A CORE CURRICULUM

by

Barri Bryan

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com
 Published by
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
Whiskey Creek Press
PO Box 51052
Casper, WY 82605-1052
www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright © 2008 by Billie Houston

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work

is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without mone-
tary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in
federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are

products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of
the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any

form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and
retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
publisher.

ISBN 978-1-60313-254-1

Credits
Cover Artist:
Editor: Marsha Briscoe

Printed in the United States of America

Other Books by Author Available at
Whiskey Creek Press:
www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Brush Country
Brush Country is a collection of poems that vary greatly in style, tone,
length, and content. Their unity is in the setting. Each poem is about some per-
son, place or event that has transpired or been inspired by the Brush Country of
Central Texas. Each poem has its own ambiance and its own rhythm. Whether
rugged and rough hewn as the tangled underbrush that grows in stubborn profu-
sion beneath the stately oaks and scrubby mesquites or as finely wrought as the
fragile flowers that bloom in shady glades and hidden places, these poems reflect
the unique environment, the ambiguous nature and the paradoxical people who
inhabit this distinctive and unusual little corner of the world.

Love Will Find a Way

In the charged silence of the room, her husband’s words erupt like an ex-
plosion. “I want a divorce.” Emily Franklin’s twenty-five year marriage is over.
With renewed strength and courage she didn’t know she possessed, Emily sets
out to rebuild her life.
Enter The Reverend Dennis Morrison, a compassionate man who awakens
in Emily quiet but compelling emotions. Then abruptly and unexpectedly, her
chastened and repenting ex-husband reappears, asking her forgiveness and plead-
ing for her to take him back.

Whiskey Shots Volume 11

 Dedication

~~This book is lovingly dedicated to Brian Houston~~

 An Introduction to Creative Writing

Purpose Process and Principles

This series of lessons is designed to help writers improve

their writing by writing. It is predicated on the belief that
learning to write well is not about reading, reciting, and re-
membering; it is about comprehension, perception, and rec-
ognition. The aim is threefold: to help writers understand the
importance of purpose, to perceive writing as a process, and
to recognize the underlying principles that govern that
process.
Before a writer begins to write anything, he or she should
ask himself or herself these three questions: (1) What is my
reason for writing this? The author’s reason for telling a story
will color every element of the story. (2) What do I want to
achieve? Is it to entertain readers? Is it to inform or to move to
action? Is it to change perspective? Maybe the desire is to do
all of this and more. What ever the purpose, it will have a de-
cided influence on the execution of the writing process and
the application of writing principles. (3) What response do I
want to elicit from my readers? Fiction should give the reader
a greater understanding of life, not attempt to inculcate a code
of conduct. Good fiction helps the reader to broaden perspectives
and expand horizons, not by teaching but by revealing.
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 A Core Curriculum

Purpose

Having a purpose helps the writer define his or her au-

dience, select language, and details, and choose the approach
that best suits the project.
The simplest way to define purpose is to say that it is the
central concept that controls what a writer will do and say.
The purposes for writing vary from discovering the writer’s
own feelings, to entertaining others, to recreating envisioned
experiences, to constructing an imagined world.
Purposeful writing neither requires a set-in-concrete
plan, nor is it always revealed in an instant or imparted ab-
ruptly. Often a writer settles on a purpose only to find that as
a work progresses circumstances alter and events change to
move purpose in another direction. The important thing is to
recognize when purpose does change and then to work with
patience and forbearance until it can once more be clarified in
the writer’s mind.
The exercise of prewriting can help shape and reshape
purpose. Initially purpose may be vague, but sustained work
will produce a moment when the writer will say, “That’s it!
That’s what I want to say!” When purpose changes, another
walk through the steps of prewriting can help interpret and
restate purpose.
Purposes for writing fiction vary widely. A purpose may
seek to develop an idea or a concept. It may aim at recreating
a past age or building a new and fantastic world. The aim may
be to create unforgettable characters. A writer should define
and pursue writing aims that are important to him or her.

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 A Core Curriculum

Process

Process can be defined as any phenomenon which shows a

continuous change over time. If we accept the concept of
process, we view events and relationships as dynamic, ongo-
ing, ever changing, and continuous. When we label something
as a process we also signify that it is not static or at rest; it is
moving. The components of a process interact; each affects all
the others. The basis for the concept of process is the belief
that the structure of physical reality cannot be discovered by
human beings. It must be created by them.
The process view of fiction writing postulates that fic-
tional reality is first an act of discovery and then an act of crea-
tion. A writer begins by discovering his or her own personal
truth. Only then can he or she begin to construct a fictional
reality by choosing the way in which to relate that truth by or-
ganizing plot, characters, setting, descriptions, and dialogue
into a cohesive whole. The discovery comes first. The crea-
tion that follows is best constructed by the writer who is con-
versant with the writing process that helps him or her move a
work of fiction from scene to scene and action to action.
The stages of the writing process are never simple or or-
derly. They are recurring, redundant, and often confusing.
Writing is more than walking through a process and stringing
words together. It is an activity in which various cognitive
processes—planning, transcribing, and rewriting—happen
repeatedly and in no particular order. It does not move
smoothly from start to finish. It is disorderly, repetitious,
complicated, and skewed. Writers are writing, changing, con-
templating, and evaluating throughout the process. When a
forced order reduces the process of writing to linear steps, the
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 A Core Curriculum

picture presented is incomplete and the process must be rec-

ognized as limited and restrictive.
It becomes apparent then, that learning to write cannot
be mastered the same way one would learn facts about the
anatomy of the human body, assimilate the meanings of a
group of chemistry symbols, or memorize historical events.
Writing involves learning a process and that is always more
difficult than memorizing a group of facts. And it is a back-
and-forth procedure. It is achieved in a round about, often re-
peated progression rather than in a straight line. There are no
guarantees of a continuous, forward-moving improvement.
Effective writing involves the three basic steps of the
writing process, which are prewriting, writing, and rewriting.
Prewriting is a time when the author attempts to under-
stand and organize the creative impulse. He or she is working
out problems of purpose, point of view, audience, and struc-
ture. Prewriting can take anywhere from an hour or so to
days and weeks, possibly years. Sometimes what the author
does not do, or what he or she fails to address during prewrit-
ing, can be as significant as any conscious deliberation.
Two prewriting exercises are brainstorming, which is an
unstructured probing of a topic, and free writing which is a
risk-free way of getting words onto a page without having to
worry about their correctness.
Writing involves the starting ritual, finding a pace, setting
goals, and imposing self-discipline. The first lessons in this
book emphasize self-expressive writing through reading and
writing descriptions, simple stories about concrete subject
matter. The writing then progresses into more complex cate-
gories.
Rewriting concerns revising, reviewing, and editing.
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 A Core Curriculum

Consideration is for both the process and the product. The

composing process is not a linear sequence of separate stages;
prewriting and rewriting are concurrent activities repeated
over and over again as the writer comes progressively closer
to resolving incongruities between what he or she wants to
say and what he or she has written.

Principles

Rules are not principles and it is important to understand

the difference between the two. Rules are facts. They are par-
ticular, rigid, and concrete and applied only in certain limited
contexts. The competent writer knows the rules of writing.
Principles and truths are general, abstract, and flexible enough
to be broadly applicable. The good writer is conversant with
the principles behind the rules.
Any rule is a particular application of a general principle.
The rule applies even if the user is ignorant of the principle
behind it. The better the user of the rule understands the
principle governing that rule, the better able he or she is to
apply the rule with judgment and discernment. For example,
coherence is a fundamental principle of composition. It de-
mands that each element in a piece of fiction be so arranged
and bear such a relationship to all the other elements, that the
meaning of the whole is clear and comprehensible. Under-
standing the principle of coherence gives substance and im-
portance to the rules clarifying that concept.
It is important to know the rules of writing fiction. It is
more important to grasp the basic principles behind those
rules. Both rules and principles can be useful; however, if they
are interpreted narrowly and applied dogmatically they can be
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 A Core Curriculum

as much a determent as they are a help.

Summary

This series of lessons define purpose as the central con-

cept that controls what a writer will do and say. It presents
writing as process that has been reduced to linear steps and as
such, has limitations. It theorizes that the rules of writing and
principles governing those rules for writing are best learned in
the context of writing.

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 A Core Curriculum

Preface to Creative Writing

What Does It Mean To Write Creatively?

“I can’t believe that,” said Alice.

“Can’t you,” said the Queen in a pitying tone. “Try again;
draw a long breath and shut your eyes.”
Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said; “one
can’t believe impossible things.”
“I dare say you haven’t had much practice,” said the
Queen. “When I was your age I always did it for half an hour a
day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible
things before breakfast.” (Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking
Glass.)
The Queen is asking Alice to practice what Coleridge re-
ferred to as the ‘willing suspension of disbelief.’ It is no more
than every writer of fiction asks of readers, not overtly, as the
Queen does with Alice, but subtly and surreptitiously through
the magic of creative writing.
What is creative writing? In the truest sense of the word,
every piece of writing is a creation. Something now exists
where nothing existed before. However, the term creative
writing most often refers to novels, short stories, and poetry.
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 A Core Curriculum

Creative writing is literary and imaginative rather than prac-

tical and factual. Its goal is to arouse, amuse, and entertain ra-
ther than inform, enlighten, and explain. This is not to say
that creative writing skills may not be used to advantage in any
kind of writing.
What does it mean to write creatively? I don’t have a de-
finitive answer to that question. I do know that every creative
writing act overpasses the recognized order in some way and
to some measure because the creative writer sees things in a
new light and writes about them from a different angle to ex-
pose previously undetected relationships among dissimilar
facts, events, and trends.
Creativity is a process, but not one of purely conscious
calculation. The first impulse toward creativity is a spontane-
ous, often instantaneous development. That brief and enligh-
tening interlude of radically inventive mental activity must be
followed by a much more extended period wherein the writer
applies skill, sensibilities, and techniques to give voice to that
brief moment of inspiration.
A creative writer begins with that small spark of genius
that fuels the imagination, but the key to sustained creativity is
the writer’s ability to use that initial spark to transfer past ex-
periences and emotions and to blend them with new ideas and
concepts. This ability to select and transfer past knowledge
and to synthesize it with new and original ideas is one of the
most critical factors in writing good fiction. The blending of
insight, reasoning, and originality into a cohesive and seamless
whole is the heart of creative writing.
Does this mean that creativity is nothing more than mak-
ing new combinations from old and sometimes contradictory
concepts and then integrating them with personal and original
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 A Core Curriculum

thoughts and ideas? Yes. That’s what creativity is, that’s what
it does. When a writer begins to fuse conflicting concepts
where they touch agreement, to observe familiar phenomena
from a different perspective and to discover connections
among those unrelated ideas and concepts the creative process
has begun, but it is far from complete. It still takes work, pa-
tience, and a great deal of dedication and knowledge to create
a literary work worth reading.
Even though creativity is sparked by that fleeting moment
of insight, creative writing requires persistence, diligence, and
most of all hard work. We all have fleeting ideas, unusual re-
velations, and ingenious fancies. The willingness to labor with
persistence and forbearance to fill the gaps in our inspirations
is the first step toward writing creatively.
A moment of inspiration can happen in a flash, in the
twinkling of an eye. A sustained creative endeavor requires
time and skill. One moment of insight and revelation will ex-
act days of study and contemplation and months, maybe years
of writing and revising to bring it to fruition. This ongoing
and complicated activity makes rigorous demands on the writ-
er’s thoughts and emotions.
Creative writing also requires an attentive and developed
intelligence. Creative writing involves knowing, comprehend-
ing, reasoning, imagining and evaluating. A combination of
these cognitive and affective skills must be applied to con-
struct a sustained literary work.
Knowing: Knowledge expands awareness and opens the
door to new possibilities. Good creative writing is usually
achieved by individuals who have spent a great deal of time
perfecting and improving their craft. They know the process
and the mechanics of writing. They are familiar with the strat-
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 A Core Curriculum

egies of rhetoric and understand the complexities of both

prose and poetry.
Comprehending: The point of knowledge is not to
have knowledge, but to use knowledge. A writer must under-
stand how to use the knowledge he or she possesses. Intellec-
tual comprehension is gained through practice and study.
Emotional comprehension is best acquired through empathy
and experience. Creative writing requires an abundance of
both.
Reasoning: A writer is writing every waking hour of
the day and sometimes in his or her sleep also. Much of that
writing takes the form of reasoning and re-filtering ideas
through the mind. Creative reasoning must be in terms of
what is rational and logical with consideration for ideas and
concepts that are contradictory and ambiguous. For example,
events and happenings that occur in real life often seem to us
to be unrelated, disjointed and fragmented. However, plots in
works of fiction should always be cohesive and coherent. At
the same time they should include some of the many unex-
plainable events that often come about in real life. We often
see people do things for reasons we don’t understand. In fic-
tion it is important that characters are moved to action by mo-
tives the readers can understand. But those motives should not
violate what is reasonable and logical. This kind of paradoxical
contemplating can’t be done while sitting in front of a TV or
hanging out with friends. It demands focus and concentration.
Imagining: Wallace Stevens once called imagination the
only true genius. Imagination assures inventiveness, inspira-
tion and vision. Uncontrolled imagination can easily run amok.
It must be tempered with reason. A necessary balance of these two
assures symmetry and stability in a work of fiction.
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 A Core Curriculum

Evaluating: Evaluation involves estimating, classifying,

surveying and measuring. The dimensions of originality are
blurred and vague at best. Without some ability to evaluate,
creative writing can degenerate into fanciful nonsense at best
and at worst, become nothing more than inane and absurd
dribble.
Creative writing demands not only emotional commit-
ment and intellectual skills but also integrity, dedication and
hard work. These qualities test, affirm, and consolidate what
is attained in a moment of inspiration and confirmed in its
tranquil aftermath.
A word of warning: Creativity often goes against the
grain of popular thought and current literary style. This disad-
vantage should encourage, not dismay. A writer should decide
where his or her book is begging to go and then take it there.
Once a writer starts leaving out scenes that may offend critics
or adding extraneous bits to appeal to current trends, or tem-
pering his or her truth to satisfy the present vogue of political
correctness, the integrity of the work is gone. Memorable
moving books are not written from a sense of anything but the
writer’s deepest and most honest convictions. If the work is a
light-hearted, comedic romp or a realistic drama with mean-
ings deep and profound—be it magnificent or minimal, pro-
fane or holy, graceful or gauche, it must be true to the au-
thor’s perception of reality and reflect his or her originality
and creativity. Perhaps Shakespeare said it best. “This above
all to thine own self be true...” (Hamlet, act one, scene three)

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 A Core Curriculum

Chapter 1

Overview of Chapter 1

Abstract: So long as reading is a casual and occasional en-

deavor it will seem a frivolous and insignificant undertaking.
This lesson presents reading as a serious pursuit by defining
and examining the basic elements of fiction and by exploring
its broad range.
Purpose: The purpose of the lesson is to increase reader
enjoyment of fiction by developing an appreciation of its fun-
damentals and scope.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to broaden reading hori-
zons and increase reading pleasure by expanding reading
commitment and investigating new reading perspectives.

Reading and Understanding Fiction

Fiction is that which is invented as opposed to that which

is true. In literature, fiction is a vague and general term. A
work of fiction is the product of the writer’s imagination but
it can also be informative, insightful and enlightening. Many
historical novels give graphic information about past events
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 A Core Curriculum

and happenings. Contemporary novels set in distant and exot-

ic locations allow readers to vicariously journey afar, and visit
foreign places to which they would never otherwise travel.
Short stories permit readers to experience, through the acts
and deed of others, exciting and suspenseful drama and adven-
ture. Fiction can inspire readers to strive toward lofty goals,
live unselfishly, or commit to some noble cause. But the main
reason people read fiction is because it gives them a great deal
of pleasure.
Even though it is a pleasurable pursuit, reading a work of
fiction responsively is a demanding undertaking. Delving into
a lengthy work of fiction requires more of the reader than
does perusing a newspaper item or leafing through an article
in a magazine. To discover the insights that fiction reveals re-
quires careful reading and demands the reader’s undivided at-
tention. When properly read and understood, fiction can nou-
rish our emotional state, broaden our perspectives, and enrich
our lives as well as giving us a great deal of enjoyment.
All fiction is comprised of some very basic elements. Un-
derstanding these elements is the prerequisite to an effortless
appreciation of fiction. When recognized and understood by
the reader, those elements can help increase the pleasure of
reading fiction.
Arguably the most important element of a work of fiction
is the plot. The plot is a formation of carefully selected inter-
related events that create some kind of conflict. Those events
can be presented in a variety of orders. They can be in chro-
nological order and be told exactly as they happened. The au-
thor can begin in the middle of the story at the onset of some
important moment or event. The story can be told in flash-
backs. It is the author’s mission to create conflict and then to
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 A Core Curriculum

resolve it in some way that is satisfactory to the reader. How

he or she chooses to do so is an important factor in any work
of fiction.
The categories of conflict are internal and external. A
good plot is usually composed of some elements of both.
When reading, look for key conflicts both internal and exter-
nal. After you have completed the story, ask yourself were
these conflicts resolved, and if so how?
Characters are important to a plot. The method writers
use to create believable characters is called characterization.
There are two categories of character development. The first
is direct character development where the author tells the
reader what characters are like. Character development by
telling is considered inferior to the second or indirect method
of character development in which the author shows the reader
what the characters are like. When reading look for the domi-
nant traits of each main character by marking places in the sto-
ry that make revealing statements. Ask yourself were these
methods direct or indirect?
The theme is the central idea of the story. It is what the
author has to say about the subject of his or her work. It pro-
vides a unifying point around which the other elements of the
story are organized. To discover the theme look at the atmos-
phere of the story and the moral constraints and influences
that drive the characters. Ask yourself how the names of the
characters and the title of the story relate to the theme. The
theme often consists of some kind of lesson that is dramatized
by the various elements of the story. Does the author raise
moral issues? Sometimes the story goes beyond traditional
moral values to explore human behavior instead of condemn-
ing or condoning it. Does the author make statements about
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 A Core Curriculum

characters that seem to shape the theme? Some stories em-

phasize theme less than others do. The themes we encounter
in fiction may confront as well as confirm.
The setting of a story is the context in which the action of
the story occurs. It includes the time, place, and environment
or atmosphere of the story. It encompasses such things as the
time the story takes place. Is it contemporary, historical, or
futuristic? Are there descriptions of physical places? Do these
places have influence over the characters? What is the envi-
ronment or atmosphere like? Do the main characters attend
church? Do they have wild parties? Do they cheat and lie?
What influence do these behaviors have over the characters in
the story?
The position from which the author chooses to tell his or
her story is called the point of view. Does the author tell the
story, as opposed to one or two of the characters in the book
telling the story? If this is the case then the story is told from
the omniscient point of view. To decide if the view is omnis-
cient ask yourself: is the author inside the head of all the cha-
racters? Is he or she all-knowing? The following story is told
by an omniscient narrator.

Adapted from Aesop’s Fable “The Tortoise and the

Hare”:
The Hare often bragged that he was the fastest animal on
four legs. He boasted of his speed before the other animals. “I
have never been beaten, yet. When I put forth my full speed,”
he said, standing on his big hind legs and puffing out his chest,
“No one can beat me.” Then he threw down his dare. “I chal-
lenge anyone here to a race with me.”
The Tortoise had heard the pompous Hare boasting of his
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 A Core Curriculum

speed many times before. He knew what the Hare said was
true. Still he could not let such arrogance go unchallenged any
longer. He said quietly: “I accept your challenge.”
The Tortoise was not the only animal who disliked hear-
ing The Hare boast of his strength and prowess. Some of the
other animals also thought he was a braggart and a bore. The
Squirrel nodded his head when The Tortoise accepted the
Hare’s challenge. It was about time someone opposed that
pesky rabbit.
The Wise Old Owl hooted his approval even though he
doubted the wisdom of the Tortoise’s brave effort.
“That’s a good joke.” said the Hare. He thought The Tor-
toise had taken leave of his senses. “I could dance around you
all the way.”
So a course was fixed and a start was made. The Hare
darted almost out of sight at once, but soon stopped. What
had started as a race was turning out, for him, to be no race at
all. He decided to take a little rest. The last thing he remem-
bered before drifting off to sleep was The Tortoise, who was
far behind him, plodding on and on and on.
Meanwhile, The Tortoise kept his slow but steady pace.
He was not one to give up in face of obstacles and adversity.
His tenacity was rewarded. Sometime later he crept past the
still-sleeping Hare. He knew he had little hope of winning this
race, but he was encouraged to know that he would make a
decent showing.
The Hare awoke from his nap just in time to see that The
Tortoise was crawling within inches of the finish line. Angry
that The Tortoise had slipped past him, he bounded to his feet
and ran fast, but not fast enough.
The Tortoise’s hope turned to joy when he crawled
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 A Core Curriculum

across the finish line just ahead of The Hare. Never one to
brag, he refrained from telling The Hare what a vain pompous
animal he was. Instead, he said softly, “Slow and steady wins
the race.”
The limited omniscient narrator tells the story from the
perspective of one or two characters. The following story is
told by a limited omniscient narrator.

The Tortoise and the Hare

The Hare often bragged that he was the fastest animal on
four legs. He boasted of his speed before the other animals. “I
have never been beaten, yet. When I put forth my full speed,”
he said, standing on his big hind legs and puffing out his chest,
“no one can beat me.” Then he threw down his dare. “I chal-
lenge anyone here to a race with me.”
The Tortoise had heard the pompous Hare boasting of his
speed times before. He knew what the Hare said was true.
Still he could not let such arrogance go unchallenged any
longer. He said quietly: “I accept your challenge.”
“That’s a good joke,” said the Hare. He thought The Tor-
toise had taken leave of his senses. “I could dance around you
all the way.”
So a course was fixed and a start was made. The Hare
darted almost out of sight at once, but soon stopped. What
had started as a race was turning out, for him, to be no race at
all. He decided to take a little rest. The last thing he remem-
bered before drifting off to sleep was The Tortoise, who was
far behind him, plodding on and on and on.
Meanwhile, The Tortoise kept his slow but steady pace.
He was not one to give up in face of obstacles and adversity.
His tenacity was rewarded. Sometime later he crept past the
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 A Core Curriculum

still-sleeping Hare. He knew he had little hope of winning this

race, but he was encouraged to know that he would make a
decent showing.
The Hare awoke from his nap just in time to see that The
Tortoise was crawling within inches of the finish line. Angry
that The Tortoise had slipped past him, he bounded to his feet
and ran fast, but not fast enough.
The Tortoise’s hope turned to joy when he crawled
across the finish line just ahead of The Hare.
Never one to brag, he refrained from telling The Hare
what a vain pompous animal he was. Instead, he said softly,
“Slow and steady wins the race.”
First-person point of view tells the story from the “I”
perspective rather than saying “He thought” or “She felt.” If
only one character tells the story and does so in terms of “I
saw,” “I felt,” “I did,” the view is first-person. The following
story is told from the first-person point of view.

The Tortoise and the Hare

Allow me to introduce myself. I am The Hare, the fastest
animal on four legs. The other day I was telling some of the
other guys how fast I can run. “I have never been beaten.” I
said, “When I put forth my full speed,” I stood on my big hind
legs and puffed out my chest. “No one can beat me.” Then I
threw down my dare. “I challenge anyone here to a race with
me.”
Was I surprised when The Tortoise said quietly, “I accept
your invitation.” I decided he must be an idiot. I told him, “I
could dance around you all the way.” Still if he wanted to
make a fool of himself that was all right with me.
So a course was fixed and a start was made. I darted al-
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 A Core Curriculum

most out of sight at once, but soon stopped. What was the use
to hurry? I had all the time in the world. I decided to take a
little snooze. The last thing I saw before I drifted off to
dreamland was The Tortoise far behind me and plodding on
and on and on.
When I awoke it was with a start and a fright. The Tor-
toise had slipped by me and was almost to the finish line. Now
that’s what I call a cheap trick. He should have called to me as
he passed. I bounded to my feet and raced away but I didn’t
make it in time to win the race. Then that smart-mouthed
Tortoise had the nerve to say to me, “Slow and steady wins
the race.”
In the objective point of view the author is the narrator.
He or she does not enter into the minds of any of his or her
characters. To determine if the view is objective ask: does the
author know what is going on inside the head of any of his
characters? If the answer is no, the point of view is objective.
The following story is told by an objective narrator

The Tortoise and the Hare

The Hare was once more boasting of his speed before the
other animals. “I have never yet been beaten,” said he, “when I
put forth my full speed. I challenge anyone here to a race with
me.”
The Tortoise said quietly: “I accept your invitation.”
“That’s a good joke,” said The Hare; “I could dance
around you all the way.”
So a course was fixed and a start was made. The Hare
darted almost out of sight at once, but soon stopped and lay
down to have a nap. The Tortoise plodded on and on and
when The Hare awoke from his nap The Tortoise was nearing
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 A Core Curriculum

the finish line. The Hare could not reach his goal in time to
win the race.
Then said the Tortoise: “Slow and steady wins the race.”
When a reader understands the various elements of fic-
tion such as plot, character development, theme, setting, and
point of view, he or she is better equipped to recognize and
appreciate foreshadowing.
Foreshadowing is the technique of giving the reader sub-
tle hints about some important occurrence that will develop
later in the story. Foreshadowing sometimes signifies a shock-
ing or surprising event that will happen later. It can help ex-
plain motivation, heighten suspense, or insure credibility.
The tone of the story reflects the narrator’s attitude to-
ward his or her subject. This attitude is usually conveyed indi-
rectly. Tone is often communicated through the point of view
from which the author chooses to tell the story. Sensitivity to
tone can help a reader get behind the character and see him or
her from the author’s perspective. Insensitivity to tone can
lead the reader astray in determining the theme of the work.
A way to help determine tone is to think how the story would
be if it were told from another point of view.
Irony is a way to show that in fiction, things are not al-
ways what they seem. It makes a contrast between appear-
ances and reality. Verbal irony allows characters to say the
opposite of what they mean. Verbal irony is also used to show
how a character’s expectations or beliefs can challenge reality.
Attitudinal irony is a way of showing that a character believes
something to be true when it is false and the reader, who is
privy to information not known by the character, knows it is
false. Dramatic irony requires that the author reveal that his cha-
racters of fiction are being created and manipulated by him.
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 A Core Curriculum

In fiction a symbol is an object that has a meaning beyond

itself. Symbolism is built on suggestiveness in which differenc-
es are submerged under particular likenesses. Symbols can be
divided into two major categories. Universal symbols are
symbols such as an American eagle, a Red Cross or The Star
of David. Most people recognize these as having a definite
meaning. Personal symbols are unique to an individual or a
single work. A careful reader not only recognizes universal
symbols in a work, he or she also discerns passages that give
personal symbols meaning.
There is a difference between reading an item in a news-
paper and reading a novel or a short story. We assume the ac-
count in the newspaper is true and we read it for information.
We read novels, short stories, poetry, and essays for pleasure.
Reading novels is also a way to increase insight and to gain a
sense of what life means to the writer.
Reading fiction can bring a certain pleasure that can not
be gained in any other way. The person who thinks he or she
has no taste for fiction may discover after analyzing its con-
tents and effect that it satisfies in a new and important way.
You can evaluate the last book of fiction you read by ans-
wering the following questions. (1) What was the action in
the story about? Was the plot predictable? Did tension build
to an exciting climax? Did the story seem real or was it con-
trived? (2)Who performed the actions in the story? Did the
characters have emotional depth? Did the author ‘tell’ or
‘show’ what the characters were like? (3) Where and when
did the action take place? How did the environment affect the
action and the characters? Is the story told in a straightforward
sequence or did the author use flashbacks? (4) From what po-
sition did the author choose to tell the story? Would a differ-
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 A Core Curriculum

ent point of view have changed the story? If so, how? (5) How
did the author feel toward his material and his readers? What
are some word choices that expressed the tone? What one
word best describes the tone of this story?

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 A Core Curriculum

Chapter 2

Overview of Chapter 2

Abstract: So long as reading poetry is a casual and occa-

sional endeavor it will seem a lighthearted and unimportant
undertaking. This lesson presents reading poetry as a serious
pursuit by defining and examining its basic elements and by
and exploring its broad range.
Purpose: The purpose of the lesson is to increase reader
enjoyment of poetry by developing an appreciation of its fun-
damentals and scope.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to broaden reading hori-
zons and increase reading pleasure by expanding reading
commitment and investigating new reading perspectives.

Reading and Understanding Poetry

Poetry is the most disciplined and exacting of the verbal

arts. It exists in several forms and embraces many subjects,
motives and emotions. Poetry differs from prose in several
ways. Prose is conceptual and enlightening. Poetry is imagina-
tive and contemplative. Poetry is more formal than prose and
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more carefully shaped and organized on the page. While most

prose appeals to reason, poetry often appeals to things beyond
reason.
Few readers cope with reading poems as well as they deal
with reading a paragraph of prose. This is partially because
most enter into the reading of a poem with a different set of
expectations from those they hold when they begin to read
prose. The first requirement to enjoying a poem is to relax
and listen, much as you might to a song played on a CD or the
radio, to the close relationship between words and meaning,
sounds and rhythm.
Just as you would not expect to completely understand or
appreciate a song with only one hearing, you cannot expect to
grasp the full meaning and beauty of a poem with one reading.
Poems that tell a story are called narrative poems. They
are similar to prose fiction in their handling of characteriza-
tion, point of view, plot and setting. Many of the questions
you asked about fiction, you can ask about narrative poetry.
“Mike” by Barri Bryan tells a story. Read the poem and then
think about the characters, plot, point of view and setting.

MIKE
Meet me, Mike said at the close of day
Near the fork in the road that’s half the way
Between your house and my abode,
Meet me tonight near the fork in the road.

So shy was I then, a bashful child.

Mike was bold as the wind and twice as wild.
I faltered, not sure what I should say.
His plea had taken my breath away.
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 A Core Curriculum

Stammering, I felt my cheeks grow red,

Closing my eyes, I bowed my head
And whispered, oh, no, that wouldn’t be wise.
Then lifting my chin, I opened my eyes

And studied his handsome, smooth young face

Looking for some sign, some trace
Of mockery, jest or ridicule,
To prove to me I was the fool

I must be to even think about

Waiting ‘til dark, then slipping out
To rendezvous with such as he.
Where must my mind, my senses be?

Please, he implored, and don’t be late.

I nodded, he smiled. Then it’s a date?
I wondered then, and do ‘till this day
What would have happened had I met Mike half way?

Most poems, however do not tell a story in the tradition-

al sense. Even so, there is always one character of utmost im-
portance. That character is the speaker in the poem. Chances
are the speaker isn’t the poet. Often poets choose a voice in
their work that is not their own. It is important to determine
if the speaker is the poet or someone the poet has developed to
speak in his or her place. Do you think the speaker in “Mike” is the
poet or someone she has selected to speak for her?
One way to better understand poem is to paraphrase it—
tell it again in your own words. Paraphrase “Mike”. What idea
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 A Core Curriculum

is the speaker communicating? This main idea is the theme of

the poem. It reflects the attitude the poet has toward his sub-
ject. The theme of a poem can best be understood by looking
at the poet’s use of words.
Diction refers to the poet’s choice of words. A poet must
choose words that convey meaning with both grace and econ-
omy. Examine the words in “Mike” for possible shades and le-
vels of meanings. Circle the words you don’t know. Look up
the definitions. Explain how choices of words establish the
poem’s tone.
Tone is the emotional spin the poet puts on his or her
words, the edge or perspective in the voice of the poem. De-
scribe the tone of the poem “Mike”. How does the title relate
to the tone?
Imagery is a unique and important characteristic of poe-
try. Imagery in poetry has two meanings. First, imagery
represents the descriptive passages found in a poem. The
second meaning refers to the figurative language found in a
poem, especially the metaphors and similes. Imagery in any
form appeals to the senses and lets the reader become perso-
nally involved in the poem. Imagery also helps create tone and
meaning.
Underline the descriptive passages in “Mike”. To which
sense or senses does each image appeal? Explain how descrip-
tive images contribute to the atmosphere and mood of the
poem. Mark the metaphor or metaphors in “Mike”. Circle the
word or words that signal comparisons.
All human speech has rhythm. Poetry puts that rhythm
into a set pattern. Read aloud the poem “Mike”. Does the
rhythm add to or detract from the poem’s intention and design?
Sound is used to emphasize meaning, action, and emo-
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 A Core Curriculum

tion. There are several sound devices used by poets. One of

the more important of these is rhyme. There are three basic
kinds of rhyme. They are internal rhyme, the rhymed sounds
within the lines of the poem; external rhyme, the rhymed
sounds at the end of the lines; and approximate rhyme, the
words in the poem that are close to rhyming.
Once more peruse the poem “Mike”. This time put a
check mark by lines that contain internal rhyme. Circle end
rhyming words. Decide if the poem contains approximate
rhyme. Identify words that have meaningful qualities.
A poem’s structure is two fold. It embodies the ideas that
are expressed and the melodic and patterned verse form that
express those ideas.
The most common way for a poet to create structure is
with end rhyme. Any pattern of end rhyme is called a rhyme
scheme.
Stanza is another structural device. Rhyme scheme helps
to establish stanzas. A stanza is separated from other stanzas
by extra spaces. Each stanza usually contains one idea or
thought. Stanzas in a poem usually have the same number of
lines and the same rhyme scheme.
Draw a line between each stanza of “Mike”. What is the
thought or idea in each stanza?
Symbols are objects, usually physical objects that
represent abstract ideas. The reader of poetry should always
be alert for symbols. Circle the symbols in “Mike”. List the
possible meanings of each symbol. Explain each symbol’s sig-
nificance.
Free Verse is free in the sense that it avoids strict adhe-
rence to metrical patterns and fixed line lengths. Free verse
creates rhythm by the sound quality of words, repeating
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 A Core Curriculum

phrases that have the same syntactical structure and varying

lines in a meaningful way.
A good example of a poem written in free verse is the
poem “The Good Years” by Barri Bryan. Read the poem
aloud, noting words and phrases that create rhythm. Under-
line repeated phrases.

The Good Years

I chanced to find today

A box tied with a ribbon and
Stuffed in the back of a drawer.
It must have been overlooked
When you and I divided
Our possessions, our hopes, our dreams,
Our good years.

I untied the ribbon, and lifted the lid—

Pictures—snapshots, photos—memories.
With sweet nostalgia, I thought
These were the good years. Happy days,
Before we doubted, demanded, drifted apart.
Before the recriminations, the hurt, the sorrow.
Times now forever vanished,
Our good years.

Do you ever wish? No.

Do you ever think? Forgive me.
At odd moments I find myself yearning for
What could have been and never was.
I’m posting them this morning. When
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 A Core Curriculum

They arrive treat them tenderly,

These newly-found old relics—
Pictures, faint and faded, remnants of
Our good years.

Every successful poem is an organic whole made up of

many elements, a presentation for the moment. Language in
poetry is highly organized, concentrated and intense. Poetry is
a unique way of writing and revealing personal truths. To tru-
ly enjoy poetry you must be able to hear it properly and have
some knowledge of the elements that make up a poem.

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 A Core Curriculum

Chapter 3

Overview of Chapter 3

Abstract: An inexperienced writer often makes the mis-

take of beginning in the middle of the writing process. This
can result in an unstructured and disjointed composition. This
lesson introduces pre writing as well as writing skills and ac-
tivities that can help the beginning writer create narratives
that are coherent, interesting, and well-organized.
Purpose: The purpose of this class is to increase the be-
ginning writer’s ability to recognize and utilize the stages of
the writing process as they relate to writing narrative compo-
sitions.
Goal: The goal of this class is to help beginning writers
master the process of writing narrative compositions.

Developing Writing Skills

Fiction writing is not something that just happens all at

one time. It is an ongoing process that involves not only writ-
ing, but thinking about what you are going to write, making
decisions about the contents, writing and rethinking, editing
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and rewriting, revising and editing again.

Recognizing and practicing some skills that most good
writers follow can sharpen your writing skills.
A good writer must of necessity be a keen observer.
Practice this exercise in observing. First look at some living
thing, a four-legged creature, a plant, a bird. Study it until
you feel you know something about it that you didn’t know
before. Write a paragraph expressing that new understanding.
Then choose a famous person in history whose appearance is
of interest to you. Write a description of that person. Think
of it as painting a picture with words.
A good writer is a good listener. Practice this listening
exercise. Write a scene where two people are moving and
talking from the viewpoint of a third, and listening, character,
who is observing the scene. Then write the same scene from
the viewpoint of a character who can only hear the conversa-
tion.
A good writer is able to remember details. Practice this
remembering exercise. Think of something that happened in
your childhood that is still a vivid memory. Why has this
memory stayed with you for all these years? Write an account
of the event. Explain why it left such an indelible impression.
A good writer is aware. Practice this awareness exercise.
Write 1-3 paragraphs from the point of view of a person who
is of the opposite sex and of a different age from you. Write in
first person.
A good writer is aware of and always considers view-
point.
Write 1-3 paragraphs about a conflict between two indi-
viduals from the viewpoint of one of those individuals. Next
write the paragraphs from the viewpoint of the other individ-
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 A Core Curriculum

ual. Finally write the same paragraphs from the viewpoint of

an omniscient narrator.
Voice is the distinctive style that makes a writer’s work
uniquely his or hers. Persona is a term used to refer to the
implied author, or second self created by an author, and
through whom the story is told. Practice this exercise in voice
and persona. A young woman and a young man are walking
down a busy sidewalk. Suddenly the young man takes the
young woman in his arms and kisses her. Invent a writer who
finds this scene romantic and touching, and have him/her de-
scribe it as he/she would in a story. Now invent a writer who
sees the scene as immoral and disgusting. Again, let him/her
describe it as he/she would in a story.
Setting is an important element in creating mood in any
story. Practice this exercise in using setting to establish mood.
Without mentioning the character himself, describe the coun-
tryside where a man is walking who has just been told that he
does not have a fatal disease for which he has recently been
tested. Now describe the same countryside as seen through
the eyes of a man who has just been told he has only six
months to live.
Variety of sentence styles and structures add interest and
to your writing. Diversity of sentence style and structure also
helps improve style. Practice this exercise in variety. Revise
the following paragraphs using a variety of sentence styles and
structures.

Paragraph one:
The man rang the door bell.
The man was young.
The man was dressed in jeans.
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The door was paneled.

The door was mahogany.
The doorbell was insistent.
He paused for a moment.
He took a deep breath.
He rang the bell again.
Then he knocked.
The knock was loud.
The knock was insistent.

Paragraph two:
Amber hesitated.
Amber answered the door.
She was small.
She was dark-haired
She had blue eyes.
Her eyes were bright.
Her eyes were dancing.
Her lips were red.
Her lips curved into a smile.

A good writer recognizes the importance of good dialo-

gue. Practice this exercise in writing dialogue. Develop a di-
alogue between two fictional characters. Express their senti-
ments and passions through their speech and actions, rather
than telling the reader what emotions they are experiencing.
Next rewrite the dialogue. This time include what one charac-
ter is thinking, as well as expressing his/her speech and ac-
tions. Then rewrite the dialogue once more. This time include
the thoughts of the other character.
Good writers also share some very distinct and discerna-
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ble traits. They have mastered the ability to express their feel-
ings and emotions and to relate those feeling and emotions to
their readers with honesty and sincerity. They can create or-
der from the chaos of thoughts and ideas and then back away
and view the whole of a creation, thus giving sense of balance
and stability to a completed work. Their writing is an act of
courtship; they love, woo and adore words.

The Writing Process

You have practiced writing skills and now you are ready
to explore the steps of the writing process. The writing
process is broken down into three major stages. The first is
the prewriting stage. It is here that you plan the work that is
to be done. The second is the drafting (writing) stage. This
stage involves getting ideas down on paper and making a first
draft. The third stage is concerned with revising, rewriting,
proofreading, and then checking your final draft for spelling
and mechanics.
Prewriting consists of routines and strategies for getting
started. They are mental warm-ups for writing. During pre-
writing the author attempts to understand and organize the
creative impulse by working out problems of purpose, point
of view, plot and structure. It can take anywhere from an
hour or so, to days and maybe weeks.
This first step in prewriting is free writing. Free writing
is a preparatory technique in which a writer writes down as
many ideas as he or she can think of in a short length of time.
This exercise should help you explore the fiction writing spec-
trum. Maybe you want to write a romance, a detective story, a
children’s story, a fantasy, or a historical. Jot down a few choices.
Now continue to write about those choices for a ten
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 A Core Curriculum

minute period. Draw on your own experiences and personal

truths. Let your ideas flow. Jot down your thoughts and im-
pressions. Don’t worry if your ideas don’t seem coherent.
This is a free writing period and it is exactly what the name
implies, a period to write freely any thought that comes into
your head. At this stage don’t worry about spelling, grammar,
or punctuation, just write.
When you have settled on a broad topic, you need to find
something to say about it. It’s time to brainstorm. Brains-
torming helps you limit and define your subject. The term fic-
tion is a broad one. Perhaps you have narrowed your scope
and settled on writing a contemporary romance. Leave your
thoughts free to wander and release your fancies on this sub-
ject. Think of things as they never were and ask, why not?
Look back over what you have written. Focus on the one
idea that interests you most. Are you ready to begin working
with this choice? Maybe after looking at what you have writ-
ten, you feel the need to free write again. Go for it! This
technique is called looping. It is a useful and convenient way
to uncover relevant concepts and materials. If you’re still not
sure, making a cluster diagram can help you separate and or-
ganize thoughts and ideas and break larger ideas into smaller
parts. To create a cluster diagram, draw a circle in the center
of a blank sheet of paper. Write the topic you have chosen in
that circle. Think of as many ideas as you can that relate to
your topic. Write each idea in a smaller circle around your
topic and attach each one with a line to your main topic. Then
you can explore each of your second-level ideas in turn, and
for each of those, uncover as many related ideas as possible.
This adds a third-level of ideas to your topic.
Organize ideas by putting them into a logical sequence or
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 A Core Curriculum

by making an outline or a time line. Organizational tools de-

pend on the genre of story. A time line can help organize
chronological order. You might want to free write again.
Whatever it takes, be willing to work at prewriting tasks until
you feel satisfied with and secure in your subject matter
choice.
Use a few broad headings to list the main ideas. Each of
these ideas can later be a chapter heading in your story or top-
ic sentences for paragraphs in your first chapter. Then list un-
der each major topic supporting concepts, information, and
ideas. Remember this is only a rough sketch of a possible way
to arrange your material. If you feel the need to free write or
brainstorm again, you may do so. When you are satisfied with
your work in this phase, you are set to begin the second step
of the writing process which is called drafting. The drafting
stage is a process that involves the starting ritual, finding a
pace, setting goals and imposing self-discipline. It is here that
the writer puts ideas and thoughts on paper then allows them
to develop and change as the writing progresses.
You may want to write your first draft swiftly as those
thoughts come to you and those ideas flash across your mind.
Perhaps you’d rather write more slowly, giving consideration
to thoughts and ideas before writing them down. Whatever
works best for you is the method you should use. Don’t aim
for perfection and don’t spend too much time on any section.
Use your prewriting notes to write your first draft. Re-
member that a narrative tells a story by presenting events in
an orderly, logical, but not always chronological, sequence.
First write the beginning of your story. The story can
open in one of two ways—with a scene or a narrative.
Now you are ready to begin the body of your narrative by
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 A Core Curriculum

introducing characters, giving the setting, and introducing the

action. Use descriptions, a variety of sentence structures, di-
alogue and a tight plot to help your story flow and to assist
you in bringing it to a climax. Compress time and action by
using transition words that move the story along. The envi-
ronment should be animated and visualized so that it becomes
a part of the action. Let descriptions and figurative language
help create the illusion of presence and place. Remember that
your story should be a distillation and condensation of human
experiences.
Write the ending of your narrative by resolving the con-
flict and then add a title that will catch the readers’ interest.
As you work, remember that writing is not simply a way
of expressing ideas that are clear in the writer’s mind; it is a
continuous process of thinking, learning, and discovering.
Don’t be surprised if you find yourself repeating various stag-
es of the writing process as you work.
When your work is complete, you are ready to begin the
third step, that of rewriting, revising, reviewing, and editing.
Consideration should be for both the process and the product.
Begin by rereading your work and checking on descriptions;
did you use both objective and subjective descriptions? Take
an objective look at your theme, structure, and style. Is the
narrative coherent? Are the transitions smooth?
Re-read your work once more. This time look for errors
in grammar and mechanics. Even a computer spell check does
not always eliminate all spelling errors. Check for reversals of
words such as no for on, form for from and complement for com-
pliment. Even though a computer grammar check will elimi-
nate many mistakes, review your work for quotation marks
and wrong, or lack of, end punctuation. Check for unnecessa-
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 A Core Curriculum

rily capitalized words and for words that need capitalization.

Be careful what you have your characters’ eyes do. Word pic-
tures can be shocking as in: he dropped his eyes. Watch de-
scriptive adjectives. Eliminate them when possible and substi-
tute characters’ action, facial expressions, or use words that
convey emotion. Use quick short sentences when the narra-
tive is action-packed. Longer, more flowing sentences work
better in romantic scenes. Don’t interrupt as the author. All
information should come from the viewpoint of your charac-
ter or characters.
After a few days, review your draft by reading it aloud so
you can hear the rhythm and pacing and then correct by ex-
ception. It is difficult to edit your own work and always best if
you can have someone else read your final draft also.

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Chapter 4

Overview of Chapter 4

Images and Imagination: Writing Poetry

Abstract: We have become accustomed to thinking of

poetry as esoteric and removed from daily life. This is unfor-
tunate because poetry shows us, as nothing else can, how our
minds function to create imagery through the senses. Know-
ledge of this process not only improves our enjoyment of poe-
try but enhances our ability to create atmosphere when writ-
ing in any genre.
Purpose: The purpose of this class is to use the richness of
everyday experiences and the theory of Gestalt to teach par-
ticipants how to create atmosphere through the use of im-
agery.
Goal: The goal of this class is to improve the participant’s
ability to create and use imagery when writing.

Images and Imagination: What Is Poetry?

Poetry exists in various forms and embraces so many sub-
jects, motives, and emotions. Poetry differs from prose in that
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 A Core Curriculum

prose is conceptual and informative while poetry is imagina-

tive and contemplative. Our word poetry comes from the
Greek word poetria. The original term was used in reference
to any kind of metrical composition; however, not just any-
thing written today in short rhyming lines can be considered a
well-crafted poem; not all verse is poetry.

Mary Had A Little Lamb

Mary had a little lamb
Some salad and dessert,
Then she gave the wrong address
The dirty little flirt.

Sam’s Girl
Sam’s girl is tall and slender
My girl is short and low.
Sam’s girl wears silk and satin
My girl wears calico.

Sam’s girl is fast and sporty

My girl is pure and good.
Think I’d trade my girl for Sam’s?
You know darn well I would.

As much fun as these little verses are to recite and hear,

they are not in the strictest sense of the word, poetry. Then
what is poetry? How can it be defined?
Many notable poets have, in the past, offered definitions
of poetry. Wordsworth called it “The spontaneous overflow
of powerful feelings recollected in tranquility.” For Poe it was
“The rhythmical creation of beauty.” Hopkins believed it to be
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 A Core Curriculum

“Speech framed.” Ruskin viewed it as “The presentation, in

musical form, of the imagination.” All of these quotes cite
elements of poetry. None of them offers a comprehensive de-
finition.
Since the broad term poetry is so vague and ambiguous
perhaps we can be more specific and precise if we narrow our
scope to consider what a poem is. A poem is an individual ex-
pression of an imagined experience. As such, it is subject to
general rules and guiding principals.
Can I, by defining for you what a poem is, teach you the
art of writing poetry, a word I can’t satisfactorily define? No.
Talent cannot be taught, but technique can. I can reveal to you
some elements of the craft of poetry writing. All art is
achieved through the exercise of a craft. Every craft has its ru-
diments and the craft of poetry writing is no exception.
All well-crafted poems share some basic characteristics.
First and foremost, a well crafted poem is honest in a way that
embodies stylistic qualities to persuade the reader to believe
what the poet is revealing. Honesty in writing poetry entails
more than not lying. It requires the revealing of intimate emo-
tions with integrity and candor. A poet must start with the ta-
pestry of his or her own reality, for this reality is his or her
truth. Then he or she must use the threads of individual im-
agination to weave poetic imagery that carries, conveys, and
magnifies his or her message.
A well crafted poem is creative. This creativity is the
product of imagination! What unexplored resources and un-
claimed potentials lie therein! Montaigne recognized the
worth and importance of imagination, and he realized the cost
extracted from the individual who actively imagines. He once
wrote: “Imagination has its price. I pay it every day.” He went
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 A Core Curriculum

on to declare, “I treat my imagination as gently as I can, and I

would relieve it if I could, of all trouble and conflict.” He was,
in his own way, expressing the belief that mental images pro-
duced by the imagination play a large part in conscious
thought processes.
Over the next two centuries, philosophers developed the
hypothesis that both the source and elements of all knowledge
are sensations as they exist in our consciousness. In the last
century some psychologists went a step further to infer that all
unconscious thought processes are also controlled by imagery.
The supposition that both the conscious and the uncons-
cious areas of the mind utilize images to trigger sense and
thought processes is of major concern to the poet, whose
stock-in-trade is finding new and original ways to formulate
novel ideas and to create meaningful mental pictures.
But how do we state things beyond their cause and still
identify them with personal truth and individual reality? We
do so by the reciprocal use of images and imagination to stir
intimate emotions and to reveal particular truths. Imagination
is the only function of the mind whereby ideas derived from
sense perception come into existence. Imagination is also the
means we employ to put sensory images together again in new
combinations.
Imagination consists of two parts. Reproductive imagina-
tion is the revival of sense images derived from earlier percep-
tions. Reproductive imagination is the living power and prime
agenda of all human perception. It is spontaneous and fanciful. Its
source is knowledge. Its activity is arousal; its design is vivid de-
scription. It is the soil for the seeds of creative imagination.
Creative Imagination is the means we employ to put sen-
sory images together in new combinations and use elementary
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perceptions to create new images. Its source is conception. Its

activity is expression. Its design is creative vision. It dissolves,
diffuses, and dissipates, in order to re-create. It is controlled,
to some degree, by a dominant plan or purpose. Creative im-
agination reveals itself in the balance of reconciliation of dis-
cordant qualities, of sameness with difference, of abstract with
concrete, the idea as it relates to the image. Imagination, be it
reproductive or creative, works with images, those sensory
qualities registered in the mind in the absence of sensory sti-
mulation.
****
When we begin to capture ideas and images that our im-
agination conjures up, and start to set them down in concrete
terms, we should remember what for many years psycholo-
gists have stipulated. There is within the human organism, a
representational system which enables it to perform computa-
tional processes on the often inadequate information provided
by the physical senses. Simply stated, this means that mental
vision supplies what is lacking in ocular vision. When a part of
the whole is lacking, the system itself provides the needed in-
formation.
A well crafted poem has a measure of individuality that
gives essence to meaning and substance to understanding.
Meaning and understanding have their origin in actual and in-
dividual situations. Without individual meaning and imme-
diate and quantitative understanding, a poem never touches
the roots of its own existence. With individual meaning, that
poem can extend over and above written language, because the
poet has not discovered reality, the poet has created a new reality.
Every well crafted poem contains an element of aware-
ness. This awareness often begins with the disagreement be-
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tween an internalized concept and an external observation.

Veracity and actuality collide when an outside and objective
truth, which sees things as they are, embraces a reality from
the subjective inner world of impressions and feelings. Dissi-
dence can result when insight merges with experience. Then
comes the awareness that the highest order of creativity is
merging contradictory ideas and then using them where they
touch consciousness.
A well crafted poem is sensuous for the poet is the lover
who woos with his words. Language in poetry is organized,
concentrated, intense and directed toward our senses through
imagery. A poem may express a wide range of human emo-
tions but unless its language is passionate and vital, those emo-
tions will be bland and impotent. When we begin to grasp the
triggering mechanism of imagination we begin to see why, in
poetry, an image becomes a vehicle conveying more than its
primary meaning or usage. It becomes a way of inferring, a
manner of setting down as briefly and as simply as possible
whatever is necessary for the inference desired. Imagery is a
form of presentation or display, a way of discovering and
creating an airy nothing and anchoring it to the rock of reality.
Imagery does not seek to direct, in the severe straight
way mathematics or science seeks direction. Imagery forces
the reader of a poem to become an active participant in this
imagined experience.
A well crafted poem is balanced. The trick in the use of
images is striking that delicate balance between providing too
much information and not giving enough detail. Properly
used, imagination can become the catalyst for reality in an im-
agined world. Imagination must never detach itself from reali-
ty. It must always stands in some essential relationship to
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truth and veracity.

Poetic imagination is an insight that is richly rewarding,
but dearly purchased for there is ugliness to see as well as
beauty. Along with the loveliness life has to sell, it gives, gra-
tis, a picture of the darker side of human existence.
Imagination is a two-edged sword, a blessing and a curse,
the remedy that wounds as it heals, the oracle that destroys as
it delivers.
Poetry is the most disciplined and exacting of the verbal
arts. It requires the ability to see magnificence in the com-
monplace and to set that magnificence to the rhyme and
rhythm of conscious life in the cadence of the ordinary. The
poet must control and match the rhythm of the listening ear
and the vision of the seeing-eye in the rhetorical language of
the imagination.
All human experience begins with sensory perception.
An image is a sensory perception in the mind. Images are trig-
gered and enhanced by imagination. Despite Wordsworth’s
declaration that poetry is “Spontaneous overflow of emotion,”
poetry is not entirely spontaneous. Some sort of organization
or form always disciplines its contents.
Using the guidelines provided below, write a poem of at
least eight lines, remembering as you do so that the reader of
poetry is always more satisfied when he or she is forced into
activity by having to complete the suggestions given, and by
the same token, soon loses interest if the allusion is too ab-
stract or obscure. The trick in the use of images is striking that
delicate balance between providing too much information and not
giving enough detail. Perhaps Solon in his prayer to The Muses said
it best: The control of loveliness is the wisdom of verse.
Following the steps given write your own poem. Make it
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not less than eight lines and not more than twenty lines.

1. Inspiration—A sudden, spontaneous thought

2. Notation—Write it down
3. Contemplation—Think about it
4. Imagination—Expand on your thoughts
5. Deliberation—The past colors the present
6. Innovation—Be original
7. Delegation—Anything looked at significantly, is signif-
icant.

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Chapter 5

Overview of Chapter 5

Reliving the Past: Writing Personal Essays

Abstract: Personal essays are a way of recalling and re-

cording the past. This lesson teaches the purpose of personal
essays and how they differ from formal essays. It then guides
participants through the steps necessary to create a personal
essay.
Purpose: The purpose of this class is to teach the basics of
essay writing.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to encourage participants
to write essays for fun and profit.

Reliving the Past: Writing Personal Essays

The term essay was first used in the sixteenth century by
French writer Montaigne, who called his informal reflective
prose pieces essais or “attempts”, to distinguish them from
complete formal dissertations. Over time essays have devel-
oped into a recognizable literary genre. In general an essay is a
short work about a particular subject. It consists of three or
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more paragraphs that present and develop one main idea.

Essays fall into two categories: formal and informal.
Formal essays are organized, dignified, and impersonal in
tone. There are two kinds of formal essays. One is a though-
tful treatment of a serious idea, problem, or belief. The other
is an essay that is a purely technical or scientific exposition.
Personal essays are more informal in nature. They talk to
us as a friend with no need to stand on ceremony. They are
brief and tentative in tone. They often draw heavily on de-
scription and memory. Personal essays are colloquial rather
than literary in tone. They are usually searching for answers,
not giving them.
Personal essays had their beginnings in moralistic writ-
ings. They are less elaborately organized than formal essays.
They are written in first person and are chatty in nature. In a
personal essay it’s permissible to use contractions and slang.
They present in an interesting and lively way thoughts, obser-
vations, and experiences of the writer.
A personal essay is essentially a narrative that tells a story
about a personal experience. It also speaks directly to the
reader about the writer’s own background, knowledge, atti-
tudes, and feelings; however, the writer cannot simply narrate
something that has happened to him or her in the past and call
it an essay. Those remembered recollections should be de-
scriptive and colorful. The events in the essay should be ex-
plained and analyzed. The essayist should share emotions and
feelings and explain personal views and concepts in a way that
makes the reader a part of the experience.
The beginning essay writer should be aware of two pit-
falls. The first is ambiguity which results when writing a de-
tailed, chronological narrative without bothering to explain or
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analyze events and emotions. The second is vagueness which

happens when writing an account in great detail but failing to
explain, clarify, or define terms that might be unclear to the
reader.
A personal essay is written in first person. It tells about
an important experience in the writer’s life. The writer uses
his or her own experiences to make a general observation
about life. A personal essay requires the use of precise, vivid,
descriptive language.
A personal essay has three parts. The first part is the in-
troduction that states a thesis, captures the reader’s interest,
and provides background information. The second part is the
body which tells the story, and the third part is the conclusion
which drives home the main point, summarizes, and repeats
important information.
Essays about recalled events or episodes share certain
other fundamental features. They relate actual occurrences or
incidents. They invest their stories with experience and in-
sight and they appeal to the heart rather than speaking to the
intellect.
The first step toward writing a good personal essay is to
select an appropriate subject. List some specific events you
might like to write about. You might want to write about a
first in your life such as the first time you realized you had a
special ability, aspiration, or problem.
You might chose to write about a remembered difficult
situation, a time when you struggled to make a decision, when
someone you trusted betrayed you, or someone you loved re-
jected you.
You might want to relate a time when things didn’t turn
out as you expected them to, a time when you expected a
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 A Core Curriculum

compliment and received censure, or when you thought you

would fail and you succeeded.
You might want to share a remembered incident which
challenged your fundamental convictions or beliefs.
You might want to tell of an embarrassing moment or
comical event: One you laugh about now, but which wasn’t so
humorous at the time.
You could recount an event that brought about a signifi-
cant change in your life.
You could choose to share an incident charged with in-
tense emotions, such as love, guilt, anger, pride, or happiness.
Can you remember an occurrence that taught you a sig-
nificant lesson about human nature or a situation that exposed
you to danger or serious injury?
You might choose to recount an episode that revealed to
you some new facet of your character or personality.
Some questions you can ask yourself to help you make a
decision are:
Can I recall significant details about the events and people
who make up this story? Will I be able to tell the complete
story from beginning to end? Do this event and my reaction to
it reveal important aspects of my character and personality?
Will the story arouse my reader’s interest and curiosity? Am I
comfortable telling this story?
An essay should have a central idea. After choosing your
episode or event, you are ready to organize your essay. Begin
by recalling specific sights, sounds, and smells from your sto-
ry. Imagine your story is unfolding like a scene from a motion
picture or a TV drama. If your scene is outdoors, describe the
weather. If it’s indoors tell about the room where the event is
taking place.
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What sounds do you “hear”? Are there voices? Maybe a

radio is playing, or is silence the only sound you hear?
What odors do you recall? Is there a component you can
taste?
Describe the surfaces of objects you recall. Are they soft,
hard, smooth, or rough?
Remember and describe key characters. What did they
look like? What were their actions? What did they say? Were
there unusual comments, word choices or particular voices or
accents?
Now test your choice. Do you still consider this a signifi-
cant event? Are you able to recall enough details? Do you re-
member enough about the people involved in this event?
Next explore your emotions. When the event occurred
what was your first response? What did you think? What did
you do? What did you say? Were there immediate personal
consequences?
Now ask yourself if your feelings have changed; if so,
how? When the event occurred what was your first response?
What did you think? What did you do? What did you say?
Were there immediate personal consequences?
Now ask yourself if your feelings have changed; if so,
how and why? Is your understanding of this event different
now from what it was then? Did this event have a profound
and lasting effect on you? Are your feelings settled now or do
they still seem to be changing? What does your present pers-
pective reveals about you as a person?
Write, in one sentence, the main idea for your essay. The
main idea is the main point you want to make. Focus on that
main idea, and then organize the idea by writing two or three
sentences that support your point. You can later use each sen-
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tence as an introduction to a paragraph for the body of your

essay.
You are ready now to write your introduction. Make it
lively and interesting by using active voice, power or active
verbs, and poignant and sentimental adjectives.
Next tackle the body of your essay. Keep the discourse
flowing smooth with transitions. Transitions are words,
phrases, or sentences that establish coherence among your es-
say parts.
Now write your conclusion. Give a final sense of unity to
your essay with a good closing sentence.

Helps in writing a personal essay

Writing an Introduction
In life you never get more than one opportunity to make
a first impression. This is true also in essay writing. For this
reason the importance of a good introduction cannot be over-
emphasized. A good beginning does more than introduce the
essay. It also bring the reader’s mind in focus with the writer,
thus giving the overall work character and direction. All correct
introductions state the main idea and set the tone of the work.
Good introductions also capture the reader’s interest by saying
something relevant, important, and interesting about the sub-
ject to be discussed. A great introduction is the heartbeat of an
essay.
An introduction has a three fold purpose. It reveals the
essay’s central idea, provides details important to understand-
ing the writer’s purpose, and captures the reader’s interest.
There are a number of ways to organize and develop an
introduction. You can use a startling statement of fact. That is
one sure way to catch your reader’s interest. Example: Thir-
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 A Core Curriculum

ty-five percent of the people who use personal ads for dating
are married.
You can ask a question. If you use this approach the re-
mainder of your essay should address, and to some extent, an-
swer that question. Example: Do you believe that it’s ever
permissible to tell a lie?
You can challenge a widely held theory or belief. This can
be a quick, direct way to stir interest and at the same time
state the main idea of your essay. Example: Let those who will
praise beauty. I find a quaint charm in ugliness. You can use a
quotation. If you use this approach, remember to name your
source and to quote accurately. Example: Kin Hubbard once
observed, “The man who says ‘I may be wrong, but’ does not
believe there can be any such possibility.”
You can define a concept—Avoid using dictionary defini-
tions; rely instead on your own knowledge to create your own
definitions. Example: In the process of living sixty-five years I
have gained some wisdom, and I have also revised my concept
of what it means to be a fool.
You can make an unlikely comparison—Comparing new
ideas to something the reader understands is an excellent way
to introduce the new, the unfamiliar, and the difficult. Exam-
ple: Trying to find my way through the maze that was called
the internet was a little like trying to ride a donkey through a
traffic jam. I knew I could do it, but it wasn’t going to be
easy.

Writing the Body of the Essay

A good essay flows evenly along. Your ideas should be ar-
ranged in a smooth sequence that is easy to follow. If there is
confusion when new ideas or thoughts are introduced, you
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 A Core Curriculum

need stronger connections between sentences or between pa-

ragraphs. To keep your essay from becoming choppy or ab-
rupt, you need smooth transitions to give your essay cohe-
rence and cohesion.
Words and phrases that establish coherence among the
parts of writing are called transitions. A transition serves as a
bridge to connecting one paragraph, sentence, clause, or
word to another. It also introduces accurate expectations and
does so gracefully by indicating how the item preceding the
transition relates to that which follows. Logical transitions
keep your discourse flowing smoothly from thought to
thought. Chronological transitions keep the flow of time
clear.
Transitional devices can be used for many purposes. Ten
of these are listed below.
1. To continue a point. Examples: next, besides, further,
also, finally, additionally.
2. To make an additional point. Examples: moreover, in
addition, for example, for instance.
3. To show results. Examples: as a result, therefore,
thus, consequently, hence.
4. To show contrast. Examples: but, still, on the other
hand, nevertheless, however, yet, otherwise.
5. To show similarity. Examples: too, in the same way,
likewise, analogous to, corresponding with.
6. To emphasize or restate. Examples: again, namely, fi-
nally, especially, indeed.
7. To conclude a point. Examples: finally, in conclusion,
to summarize, ultimately, definitely.
8. To express the passing of time. Examples: soon, im-
mediately, afterward, later, meanwhile, after a while.
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 A Core Curriculum

9. to show place. Examples: nearby, here, beyond, oppo-

site.
10. Miscellaneous. Examples: for example, for instance,
in fact, indeed, on the whole.
A word of caution: Be careful not to clutter your writing
with unnecessary howevers, moreovers and consequentlys.

Writing Conclusions
Conclusions tie together the elements of an essay and sig-
nal that the narrative has been completed. Every essay needs a
conclusion, even if it is only a few sentences or a brief para-
graph. An effective ending will leave the reader with a sense
of loose ends being tied up, of lines of thought being com-
pleted, and of questions asked being answered.
Some tips for writing a good conclusion are to rephrase
your main point or points. Example: “Before you decided to
go out with someone you have met through a personal ad, it
might be wise to remember that thirty-five percent of the
people who use personal ads for dating are married.” Make a
recommendation. Example: “I recommend that you set aside
some time during each day to reflect and meditate.” Express a
hope. Example: “It is my fervent hope that in the future those
reading this story will profit from my mistake.” Explain how a
problem was solved. Example: “The problem was solved by
both of us agreeing to compromise.” Use a quote. Example:
“He reminded me as he walked away that ‘Beauty is in the eyes of
the beholder’.” Or summarize your main point or points: Exam-
ple: “In closing, let me summarize by saying a lie is permissible
when and if it helps one person without hurting anyone else.”
A word of caution: a conclusion should give a final sense
of unity and supply a timely and logical end. To be effective it
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 A Core Curriculum

must mesh logically and stylistically with other components of

the essay. Don’t introduce new material, add some vague af-
terthought, apologize or moralize.

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 A Core Curriculum

Chapter 6

Overview of Chapter 6

Abstract: This lesson discusses the history of short fiction,

delineates between the two basic types of short stories, then
addresses: Structure and compression, point of view, creating
a vivid setting, and conflict and conclusion in short stories.
Purpose: The purpose of this class is to aid writers in
creating interesting, well-constructed short stories.
Goal: The goal of this class is to improve participants’
ability to write a short story.

The Long and Short of It. Writing Short Stories

Many people assume that it is a simple matter to write a
short story. After all, honest candor is all that is required. The
author states in a few simple words, what he or she wishes
others to feel and experience. It’s very simple, right? Wrong!
The truth, as a writer perceives it, is a deceptive concept
that continuously slips away on the wings of sentiment and
sensation. To be honest with readers requires that a writer be
honest with himself or herself. Honesty with one’s self can be
disturbing and painful; however, it is the first prerequisite to
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writing a good short story.

Writing a short story also requires some knowledge of
the mechanics of writing. That knowledge coupled with ho-
nesty and sustained by talent and perseverance can produce
stories that make the reading of short fiction a dynamic expe-
rience.
The short story as a genre is a relatively new phenome-
non. Narrative precursors to the short story are fables, pa-
rables and tales. Fables and parables are brief narratives that
set a forth a pointed statement or truth. Examples of fables
are those told by Aesop some five hundred years before the
birth of Christ. Some well known parables are found in Ruth,
Esther, and the Song of Solomon in the Old Testament and
the parables of Jesus in the New Testament. Tales or anecdot-
al stories set forth strange and wonderful events in more or
less bare summary without detailed character drawings. Some
examples are Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Boccacio’s Decameron and
Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales
Short stories are not necessarily better than parables,
fables or tales, but they are different. They are more realistic
than parables. They have more depth than fables. They are
more concise than tales. They have a richer surface than any of
the three. Short stories move past mere telling to create expe-
riences and involve the reader in exciting events, heartfelt
emotions and dramatic moments.
The short story in its contemporary form was developed
in the nineteenth century. Edgar Allen Poe is sometimes
called the originator of the short story as a specific genre. The
de-emphasis on narrative in the short story is a 20th century
invention.
There is no hard and fast rule governing the length of a
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short story. A good rule-of-thumb is it should contain no less

than 5000 and no more than 15,000 words. The story should
fit comfortably within the chosen length from the standpoints
of both form and logic. It should be based on a plot simple
enough to be told clearly. It should proceed in a direct line
from beginning to end, present a single effort derived from a
single cause, and have only one major conflict.
There are basically two kinds of short stories. In stories of
incidents the focus of interest is on the course and outcome of
events. In stories of character the focus is on the revelation of
a state of mind and motivation, or of moral qualities.
The basic elements of a short story are characters, plot,
point of view, and tone. The characters in a short story must
immediately assume identifying attributes and characteristics.
The author does this in one of two ways, or more often by a
combination of both. In direct characterization description is
used to tell what a character is like—ugly, kind, sympathetic,
vindictive. In indirect characterization the writer lets the
reader form his opinion by the use of descriptions such as the
character’s physical features or how he or she dresses, by the
use of dialogue, what the characters say, by revealing what the
character is thinking or feeling, or by the character’s actions.
The plot of a short story is the related series of events
that make up that short story. It consists of five parts: the ex-
position or introduction, the conflict which introduces the
major problem, the resulting complications that build sus-
pense that in turn leads to a climax and finally a resolution.
In a short story plot there should be no irrelevant details
or sub plots. The story should present at the end a single
compact impression.
The plot of a short story can open in one of two ways—
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with a scene or a narrative. An attention-catching scene is

more apt to capture the reader’s interest. Be careful. A scene
can also set up unrealistic or unfulfilled expectations.
Point of view refers to the perspective from which the
story is told. It answers the question: who is the narrator? The
omniscient or shifting narrator is all-knowing and can move at
will into any character’s mind. The limited omniscient narra-
tor has access to the responses and tells the story from the
perspective of, one or two characters. The dramatic or objec-
tive narrator is almost the opposite of the omniscient narrator
in that this point of view follows only external observable
happenings and events. The dramatic point of view tends to be
largely conversation. The first person narrator relates a very
personal and often narrow view. First person can also express
a sense of immediacy lacking in other points of view.
The tone of a short story conveys the writer’s attitude
toward the subject. Tone unifies by control of language and
syntax. It can be detached, ironic or sympathetic—the possi-
bilities are endless.
Tone is different from mood which refers to the way a
reader responds to a selection.
Each element of a short story influences and is influenced
by the central idea of the story. The central idea is the moti-
vating force behind a short story. Three popular types of cen-
tral ideas are: psychological which comments on human beha-
vior, sociological which comments on behavior of humans in
groups, and philosophical which comments on the limitations
of human perception and on morals and ethics.
In a short story action must begin at the onset. Summary ac-
tion covers long periods of time and reads like a historical report.
Scenic or dramatic action focuses on one significant matter.
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A sense of character must be created in a short space.

Two ways to do this are by exaggeration and with an accurate
eye for precise detail. Physical descriptions are important and
in them it is permissible to use both fact and inference.
Artistic unity is important in a short story. It is often dif-
ficult to unify confusing events or inconsistent occurrences
that are necessary for an interesting story. A unifying theme
can pull diversified elements together. This thematic unity can
be achieved by telling the story in chronological order where
the events of the story unfold in precisely the order in which
the occurred, or it can be done retrospectively by the use of
flashbacks.
Economy of words is always an issue in short stories. It is
also important to compress time and action. The environment
should be animated and visualized so that it becomes a part of
the action. Since there is little time for description or digres-
sion, description should keep the illusion of presence and
place. There should be only one, at the very most, two or
three fully developed characters. Remember a short story is
the fine-tuning of and focus on human experiences.
In closing let me pass on to you three generalizations
about modern short stories. They are more likely to be con-
cerned with the subtlety of the characters than with the fabri-
cation of a cunning, fast-paced plot. They are more apt to
suggest than to tell. They are more prone to moving toward a
disclosure than toward an absolute outcome.
Read the following short story. Then draw a line between
where the introduction ends and the conflict that introduces
the major problem begins. Draw another line between where the
complications that build suspense end, and the climax begins. Fi-
nally draw a line between the climax and the resolution.
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Carrie’s Moment
Carrie Martin leaned against the porch post and looked
down the dusty, tree-lined street. Shadows, like sorrow, leng-
thened with the closing day. Down the block Eva Jackson
screeched for her children to come to supper. Two houses
over, Bill Bellamy wheeled into his driveway, late, as usual. In
the distance the town clock’s seventh ominous note sounded
and then died away.
In the warmth of the gathering twilight, Carrie shivered.
So he was late again. She could think of a dozen reasons why
that could happen. That thought brought little comfort.
“Mom?” From inside the house, a child’s reedy voice
piped, “Where are you?”
“On the porch, Rachel.”
A slim ten-year-old girl stepped through the screen door.
She bore a striking resemblance to Carrie. “The news is on
TV. Aren’t you going to watch it?”
“Not tonight, Rachel.” Carrie stared into the darkness
that was descending like a shroud over the neighborhood.
A second voice sounded from inside the house. “Then can
we watch cartoons?” A dark-haired boy pressed his nose to the
screen. When his mother didn’t answer, he followed his sister
onto the porch. “Can we? Please?”
Carrie asked, “Have you done your homework?”
“This is Friday.” The boy, too, was tall and slender.
There was a hint of raw masculinity in his childish face and a
promise of potent charm in his intense manner.
Carrie replied, “Don’t whine, Sam.”
Sam turned his head to one side. “I want to watch car-
toons.”
Carrie’s features softened. “All right, go ahead.”
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Rachel motioned to her brother. “Let’s watch Bugs Bun-

ny.”
Sam bolted past her. “I get to hold the control.”
Carrie sat on the steps and tucked her dress around her
knees. “Please, God, don’t let him be with her.” Fireflies flit-
ted across the front yard. “I’d know.” She spoke into the
warm twilight. “This time I’d see the danger signals.” Who
did she think she was fooling? Coming home late from work
two Friday nights in a row was a danger signal. Carrie leaned
her head against the porch post. “It’s been almost a year.
Don’t borrow trouble.” It was never wise to disturb sleeping
dogs, drowsing dragons, or painful old memories.
But Carrie’s mind wouldn’t let go. Words from the past
echoed through her head. The affair is over, Carrie. If you can
forgive me, I’ll come home; if you can’t, there’s no place for me here.
Carrie closed her eyes against remembered pain.
“Mom?” Rachel opened the screen. “Naomi’s on the
phone.”
“Tell her I’ll call back later.”
Rachel held the screen door open. “She says it’s impor-
tant.”
Carrie followed her daughter into the house and picked
up the receiver. “Naomi, I was busy.”
“Sitting on the porch is busy?” Naomi questioned and then
asked, “What happened? You and John were supposed to be
here a half hour ago.”
“John’s not home yet.” After a spate of silence, Carrie
asked, “Are you still there?”
“I’m here. Did John call?”
“No, but I’m sure he’s okay.” Even in her own ears, her
words rang like sounding brass.
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Naomi wasn’t fooled. “Did you try to call him?”

An old familiar ache cramped in Carrie’s stomach. “John
doesn’t like me to call him on the job.”
“He’s not on the job at seven-fifteen in the evening.”
Naomi’s voice dropped. “Do you want me to come over?”
Carrie didn’t want company, not now. “No. You and
Tim go on the club. We’ll meet you there later if John gets
home in time.”
“Are you sure?” Naomi seemed reluctant to let go. “Are
you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Carrie didn’t feel fine. She felt like someone
had punched a fist into her mid section.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Naomi hung up the phone.
Carrie went back to the front porch. She sat there, star-
ing down the tree-lined street until darkness crept in to steal
the last vestige of light away.
It was a quarter past ten when John drove his pickup into
the driveway. The motor chugged to silence, the pickup door
slammed and footsteps sounded up the walk and across the
porch. Then a key scraped in the lock and the front door
opened. John’s rich baritone bounced off the living room
walls. “Carrie? Where are you?”
Carrie was damned if she was going to let him know how
worried she’d been. From the bathroom, she called, “I’m tak-
ing a shower.”
“I’m starved. I hope you saved some dinner for me.”
Carrie hung a towel on the rack. “There’s food in the
oven.”
“Make me a plate. I’ll wash up. I have something to tell
you.”
Carrie reached for her robe. The last ‘something’ John
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had come home late to tell her had broken her heart. She hur-
ried down the hall. “Don’t shout; you’ll wake the twins.”
“Sorry.” John disappeared down the hall toward the bath-
room.
Suspicion, like a slithering serpent, uncoiled in Carrie’s
stomach. She had been so sure that she had worked past the
lingering doubt that infidelity leaves behind. If John’s coming
home late, with something to tell her, brought this kind of
reaction, obviously, she hadn’t. She hurried to the kitchen.
John appeared minutes later and sat at the table. “I’ve
been with Marshall Evans. I got the contract to build the
Evan’s house.”
It seemed a perfectly logical explanation. Carrie took
food from the oven. “That’s nice.”
“We signed the final papers this afternoon. Then Mr.
Evans insisted that I drive out to his ranch and look over the
sight for the house.”
Carrie ladled food onto a plate.
Impatiently, John asked, “Did you hear me?”
Carrie didn’t bother turning. “I heard.”
“Then Mr. Evans insisted that I stay for a drink.” John put
one elbow on the table. “That’s why I’m late.”
Carrie set a food-laden plate in front of him. “Why didn’t
you call?”
“I tried, several times. I couldn’t get you. Maybe the
phone’s out of order.” John picked up his fork. “I hope you
weren’t worried.”
“This phone works fine,” Carrie replied with chilling
calm. “Naomi called around seven.”
John struck his forehead with the heel of his hand. “We
were supposed to go out with them tonight. It slipped my
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mind completely.”
“I made our excuses.”
“Carrie, I’m sorry.” He looked so contrite. Or was it
guilt that skipped across his handsome features and lodged in
the blue of his eyes? “I got busy and...”
Carrie lifted her hand. “I understand.”
Cold implacability moved in to replace John’s contrition.
“It won’t happen again.”
Carrie wished she could believe that. “I’m going to bed. I
have to get up early in the morning.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.” John pushed his plate back.
“You can sleep late.” Nodding toward the chair across from
him, he insisted, “Sit down, Carrie.” Then he added a surpris-
ing, “Please.”
Carrie perched on the edge of the chair. Her tongue
seemed to have a mind of its own. Words tumbled from her
mouth before she could stop them. “Cousin Maggie called and
invited me to drive over to Oakdale with her tomorrow.”
Surprise brought John’s head up. “You know I can’t stand
that woman.” He paused and then asked, “Why is Maggie
going to Oakdale?”
“I didn’t ask.” Carrie shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“Damn it, Carrie, I don’t how to deal with you when
you’re like this.” John’s gaze narrowed. “Your cousin’s a man-
chasing tramp. I don’t like you going out with her, period.”
Indignation brought Carrie to her feet. “Don’t be a hypo-
crite, John.” She pushed her chair under the table, spun on her
heel and strode out of the kitchen, leaving her husband to
stare after her in startled surprise.
As she stumbled down the hall, Carrie’s heart sank to the
pit of her stomach. She should sleep in the spare bedroom to-
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night. She knew she wouldn’t because she couldn’t bring her-
self to sever the last tenuous bond that held her marriage to-
gether. Instead, she walked slowly into her own bedroom,
took off her robe, lay down her side of the king sized bed and
pulled the covers up under her chin.
What was wrong with her? She had rudely refused Cou-
sin Maggie’s invitation. And John was right; Maggie was a
tramp. Carrie turned on her back and stared at the ceiling.
Had John really been working late? Had he tried to call her,
or… Between clenched teeth, she whispered, “Don’t go there
again, Carrie.”
She turned to face the wall as John came through the
door and moved about the room. Without bothering to look,
Carrie knew that he was sitting in the chair near the window
and taking off his boots. “You can turn on the light. I’m not
asleep.”
John switched on a table lamp. Carrie turned and stared
at him. A soft halo of light circled the chair and its occupant.
How incredibly handsome he was. It was small wonder that
women had always found him an exciting and attractive chal-
lenge; they probably always would. Could she blame him if
now and then he strayed from the straight and narrow? Sitting
up, she pushed a pillow behind her back. “I’m not going to
Oakdale with Cousin Maggie tomorrow. I lied.”
John asked on a sigh, “Did Maggie call?”
“Yes, but I told her I was busy tomorrow.”
“Why would you put me through that kind of hell, Car-
rie?”
“Don’t you trust me, John?” The silky words were ve-
nomous.
John stuffed his socks in his boots and set them beside his
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chair. “Do you like to see me suffer, Carrie?”

When had John suffered, or felt any other emotion ex-
cept guilt? Seldom, she suspected, and then only in passing. It
was she who had suffered and she was still suffering. There
was a bleeding wound inside her heart that refused to heal.
“Why would I do that?”
John changed the subject. “Would you like to drive out to
the Evan’s ranch with me tomorrow morning?”
Ambivalence tore at Carrie. She wanted desperately, to
spend tomorrow morning with John, but the thought that this
was a peace offering, a way of doing penance, stopped her
from accepting.
“What about the twins?”
“We could drop them off at my mother’s.”
Carrie blinked. “No thanks. I’d rather stay home.”
John turned off the light, and slipped into bed. The mat-
tress gave under his weight. He sighed into the darkness. “We
can’t go on this way, Carrie. It’s tearing us both apart.”
Weariness settled over Carrie like a fine-drawn net. She
was suddenly bone tired. She was tired of acting indifferent
when her heart was breaking, tired of putting up a brave
front, when inside she was dying. She was tired of being the
sweet, understanding wife when what she wanted to do was
give vent to the rage that bubbled like hot lava inside her.
Struggling for control, she answered, with finality. “You’re
right. It’s useless to keep on pretending.” She waited, as the
silence grew heavy, ominous.
John’s whispered words fell out into the oppressive
quiet. “What do you want from me, Carrie?”
She wasn’t sure anymore. “More to the point, John, what
do you want from me?”
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“I want your forgiveness.” His voice was heavy with re-

morse. “I want the chance to show you by word and deed that
I will never betray you again.” A sob caught in his throat. “You
can’t forgive me, can you?”
Always before she had assured him that she could. It
wasn’t so much a falsehood as a fervent hope. Lying seemed
useless now. “I can’t forgive either of us.” She sat on the side
of the bed. “I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom tonight.” Through
one long year of living in hell, Carrie had never found the
courage to leave her marriage bed. From somewhere deep in-
side her, she reached for renewed strength. “I’ll move my
things tomorrow.”
In the space of a heart beat, John was across the bed and
sitting beside her. His calloused hand locked around her upper
arm. She could feel the tension in his fingers and the strength
in his grasp. “Please don’t do that!”
A little dazed, Carrie asked, “Why not?”
“In this warm bed, in the concealing dark, I can reach
you, at least physically.” The words were torn from him. “Are
you leaving me, Carrie?”
“Yes, John, I am.” With the back of her hand, Carrie
wiped at the tears that gathered in her eyes. She hadn’t cried
in John’s presence since that first explosive encounter a year
ago. She didn’t intend to start now.
A shudder ran through his body. “Why, Carrie?”
“Why should I stay?”
His answering words were soft as satin, sincere as a
prayer. “Stay because I love you.”
They exploded like a charge of dynamite inside Carrie’s head,
shattering the dam of defenses she had been erecting for months.
Sobs shook her frail body as she collapsed in her husband’s arms.
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He held her, gently at first, then grabbing her fiercely to

him, he gritted. “If I lose you, nothing else matters. Tell me
what I have to do to make you stay.” Laying his face against
her hair, he pleaded, “Don’t cry, Darling. Please, don’t cry.”
It had been such a long time since he had called her darl-
ing. After several struggling minutes the sobs grew fainter,
less wrenching. Carrie snubbed and dried at her tears with the
edge of the sheet. “Maybe it’s too late.”
“No, it’s not!” John declared fervently.
Almost, she could believe that he needed her as much as
she needed him. “Make me believe that, John.”
The set of his jaw, the pain in his eyes gave credence to
his reply. “I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you, if you’ll
give me the opportunity.” He hugged her closer to him. “God,
how I’ve missed holding you this way.” He pushed her from
him to stare into her eyes. “Do you know what hurts the
most? It’s knowing that I’ve destroyed something fragile and
beautiful, your trust in me. You don’t feel safe with me any-
more.”
Past rejection made Carrie oh, so cautious. “I’m not sure
we can rebuild what we’ve torn down.” She said we, for the
first time admitting that some of the blame for the failure of
their marriage lay with her.
John pleaded, “Maybe we can build something better.”
Pulling her back into his arms, he kissed the softness of her
trembling mouth. “I love you, Carrie. Let me show you how
much.”
Once in every lifetime there comes an irrevocable mo-
ment of decision, one perilous second when the fate of the fu-
ture hangs in the balance of the present. This was Carrie’s
moment. “I love you too,” she whispered softly. Closing her
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eyes, she surrendered to the sweet assault of his tender love

making.
~~~~~~~~
Some questions to ask when critiquing any short
story:
What is the main idea of the story?
Is the plot coherent?
Do all the elements of the plot fit together?
Is there a clear resolution to the conflict?
Does the story achieve suspense? If so, how? If not why
not?
Does the dialogue fit the characters and the situation?
Is the ending believable?
Is the setting important to the story?
Would the story work as well in another setting?
Does the story contain irony and/or symbolism? If so are
they used effectively?
Do the various elements of the story work together to
achieve unity, interest, and effect?

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Chapter 7

Overview of Chapter 7

Abstract: In real life characters are revealed; in fiction

characters are created. Just as all elements of a real-life cha-
racter are present and visible in that living, breathing entity,
all elements of fiction; point of view, plot, theme, tone and
mood, meet in the central characters of a work of fiction. This
lesson explores the elements involved in creating fictional
characters and examines the design and direction of character
development.
Purpose: The purpose of this class is to improve the tech-
niques a writer uses to portray characters that perform actions
in a work of fiction.
Goal: The goal of this class is to improve the author’s
ability to create and develop dynamic fictional characters.

Creating and Developing Fictional Characters

The Act and Art of Creation

A fictional character is an imagined entity created by a
writer to inhabit a work of fiction. Like so many other ele-
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ments of fiction, it is a composite whose qualities should be

chosen, then designed and integrated to make that character a
reliable facsimile of a human being. If the creation is not hu-
man, it should, in some very fundamental ways, be an ex-
tended verbal portrait of a creature with some human charac-
teristics, traits, manners and frailties. Buck in London’s The
Call of the Wild is a dog. In Adam’s Watership Down the charac-
ters are rabbits. Anne Rice’s vampires and J.R.R. Tolkien’s
Hobbits are supernatural creatures; yet they are human
enough for readers to identify with them, laugh with them,
hate them and even love them.
In a broad sense we can identify two kinds of fictional
characters. Three dimensional or dynamic characters change
in the course of the story. Scrooge in A Christmas Carol is a dy-
namic character. One dimensional or static characters remain
primarily the same throughout the story. Bob Cratchet in A
Christmas Carol is a static character.
Whether characters are dynamic or static, whether they
are chosen to complement a plot or a plot is developed to fit
characters, it is important to present only those characters ne-
cessary to the plot and to know the background and traits of
each character presented. Action stories usually require fewer
characters than those centering on situations and relationships.
Just as all elements of a real life character are present and
visible in that living, breathing entity, all elements of fiction,
point of view, plot, theme, tone and mood, meet in the cen-
tral characters of a work of fiction. This is one of the many
reasons the writer needs a clear understanding of his or her
characters before ever beginning to write the story.
So then we can define a fictional character as an artificial
construction that has been given individual and personal quali-
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ties and characteristics by the author. The author conceives a

personality who takes on actions, attitudes, thoughts and ex-
pressions. Through the medium of words a fictional character
has been “created” rather than having been “born”.
One important aspect of character creation is the name
the writer chooses to give the character. A character’s names
should ‘fit’ the story’s time and place as well as that charac-
ter’s manner, tastes, and personality, social position and life
experiences. Other important attributes are background, fam-
ily, parents, and socio-economic level. All these shape a cha-
racter’s traits. Physical features of the character include beha-
vior patterns, habitual poses, expressions, postures, and psy-
chological traits including emotions, moods and thoughts, and
beliefs.
A protagonist or a main character in a work of fiction
must be not only believable but worthy. Despite their human
frailties, heroes and heroines must catch the interest and hold
the attention and sympathy of the reader.
Physical appearance and attributes such as size, weight,
age, coloring, mannerisms, appearance and clothing are im-
portant. A consistent posture, expression, or quirk can help
define and describe a character and serve as an emotional trig-
ger.
The setting and environment of a work of fiction can af-
fect a character’s inner and outer appearances.
Now that you have invented this character, have designed
a person and provided that person with a suitable environ-
ment, it is time to set in motion those episodes and events that
allow for growth development and change. Development of a
character is dependent to a large degree on the length of the
work. Characters in short stories must be given identifying
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traits and mannerisms immediately. Characters in novels have

longer to develop, grow, and change. As much as possible,
characters should be introduced in increments so as not to
overwhelm the reader. Often absolute, concrete descriptions
are narrow and restrictive. Use the metaphorical approach
then let the reader make up his/her own mind.

The Design and Direction of Character Develop-

ment
From the rib of your imagination you have ‘created’ a
character. It is now your burden and privilege to develop that
character into a reasonable facsimile of a human being whose
behavior is both believable in its consistency and unique in its
humanity. Consistency does not mean always holding the
same opinion, saying the same thing, or reacting in the same
way. The ambiguities of a character make him/her seem more
human. What you choose to omit about a character can be as
important as what you decide to tell.
The author develops his/her character in two basic ways.
He or she either makes observations about the character or
narrates and comments on the character’s behavior. The read-
er in turn, becomes acquainted with that character through in-
terpreting what the author has written about the character.
A reader would be bored out of his or her skull if charac-
ters were portrayed as people really are. Characters should be
drawn with broad strokes, given sparkle and pizzazz. Make
your characters larger than life, but don’t overdo it. Fictional
characters must be distinctive but they can’t be too different.
Characters should have some salient and defining characteris-
tics. Their subsequent development should be exciting enough
to be interesting and consistent enough to be believable.
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The technique for developing characters has changed over

time. Early novelists were content to describe appearances,
manner, and temperament and to explain motives. This me-
thod has never been entirely abandoned but today writers
more often show the characters thoughts and emotions by ‘dis-
playing.’ rather than ‘revealing’. Modern writers are interest-
ed in psychological and emotional aspects of a character’s be-
havior. In literature as in life, actions speak louder than
words.
Character development is the means by which writers
bring their characters to life. Dynamic characters should de-
velop and change. In the process contradictions will develop
among his or her thoughts, words, and actions. The more
completely you bestow on your characters human traits,
flaws, and frailties, the more believable they become. Be sure
your characters are doing what they’re doing because of the
character’s motives, not because of the author’s motives.
Contrast opposites. Much of a novel’s energy comes from
those perverted, treacherous, profane, wickedly unconven-
tional characters that populate it.

Methods of character development

What the author says overtly about the character will
usually be accepted by the reader as the truth. After all, this is
the author’s creation. This is a power that must not be over-
used or abused. It is better, by far, to avoid overt interpreta-
tions and to arrange events and happenings in a narrative in such a
way that the reader can draw his or her own conclusions.
What other fictional characters in the story say about a
character is important. The makeup and motivation of the
character speaking will influence what he or she says about
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another character.
By indicating a character’s thoughts the author can give
insight into his/her beliefs, emotions and motives. This is also
a way to show what the character thinks of himself or herself.
Self-awareness is one way to show a character’s growth and
development.
Fiction presents a highly selective view of a personal re-
ality. Each action performed by characters should have signi-
ficance and meaning. Those actions by individuals that, in
“real life” would seem trivial and incidental can be used in fic-
tion to foreshadow, reveal facets of a character, or even state
the author’s philosophy of life. Actions can reveal thoughts
and feelings even if the reader is never allowed inside a cha-
racter’s head.
Secondary characters are important too. They provide au-
thenticity and there is no full sense of a story without them.
Modern writers seem less content to settle for flat minor cha-
racters are more apt to create characters with an eye for accu-
rate details. It is important to maintain a balance between not
having bland, lack-luster minor characters and making peri-
pheral characters so vivid that they distract from the main cha-
racter or characters.
Fictional characters should obey the laws of their own ex-
istence and behave according to the dictates of their created
personalities and given temperaments. As they face crises and
adversity, they must develop and change within the patterns
of thought, attitudes, and emotions assigned to them by their
creator, the author. This diversity within consistency is the
hallmark of a dynamic fictional character. Perhaps this is why
many writers consider the creation of an imaginary person to
be the basis of all good fiction.
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Before you can begin to develop a character, you must

know that character intimately. A good way to get acquainted
with you character is to make a biographical sketch that con-
tains all of the following details:
1. Character’s name
2. Character’s age
3. Character’s Background/Social position and family
Socio-economic level, education and occupation
4. Appearance, color of hair, color of eyes, height and
weight. Describe any physical scars or handicaps. Describe
any habitual poses, expressions, or postures.
5. Psychological traits; does the character have strong be-
liefs? If so, what are they?
6. List three of the character’s most admirable traits.
7. List the character’s three greatest shortcomings.
7. Describe any emotional scars or handicaps.
8. List two ways the setting of the story affects the cha-
racter’s inner appearance.
9. List two ways it affects his/her outer appearance.

An exercise in creating and developing fictional

characters
Choose one of the situations below, then write a para-
graph that describes the two characters involved in that situa-
tion. Include a physical description, their relationship with
each other and how they feel about each other. Give each of
your characters a name.
A man and a woman are standing beneath a tree in a park.
Two space warriors have just landed on a strange planet
in the far reaches of the universe.
An old man is teaching a young boy a new skill.

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Chapter 8

Overview of Chapter 8

Abstract: The plot is the glue that holds a story together.

It may be very simple, as it is in many modern novels, or it
may be complex and consist of a major plot and one or more
subplots.
This lesson defines and discusses the elements of a plot. It
explores how each element works to link together a sequence
of related events, enabling the writer to create narratives that
are cohesive and coherent.
Purpose: The purpose of this lesson is to aid in mastering
certain basic principles and skills involved in recognizing, as-
sessing and creating strong story lines.
Goal: The goal of this class is to aid in gaining the know-
ledge and acquiring the skills necessary to create strong and
structured story lines.

Cohesive and Coherent: The Elements of Plot

The study of any art, like the study of any science, re-
quires the mastery of certain basic principles. This mastery is
acquired through knowledge, evaluation and practice. How
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does one acquire the skills necessary to plot a story? By study-

ing and knowing the elements of a good plot, by reading and
assessing stories that have strong plot lines, then by putting
that knowledge and experience to work through practice.
The term plot was introduced by Aristotle in the fourth
century B.C. He used it to describe the arrangement of a sto-
ry’s events including the actions of the characters and how
those actions affect the story. There are basically three kinds
of plots. The first is the plot in a tightly structured story. In
this kind of plot each occurring incident is closely related to
the next one. In a tightly structured plot one incident leads to
the next incident until tension builds to a climax.
The second type of plot is the episodic plot. In an episod-
ic plot episodes and events are tied to each other more
through simple chronology than through any particular cause-
and-effect relationship. Episodes are not interrelated and one
action does not lead logically to the next. In general, the
scenes in a book with an episodic structure could be rear-
ranged almost at random without hurting the work as a
whole. Most of the events depicted, although told chronologi-
cally, are not otherwise tied together by any complicated
scheme. An example of a novel with an episodic plot is Moll
Flanders, written by Daniel Defoe and published 1722. Two
more contemporary examples are The Adventures of Augie March
by Saul Bellow and Fanny by Erica Jong.
The third type of plot is the epistolary plot in which the
novel is written in the form of letters; either all by one cha-
racter or among characters. An example of a novel with an
epistolary plot is Pamela written by Samuel Richardson and
published in 1742. Pamela contains the letters of a household
servant to her relations. A contemporary example of a novel
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with an epistolary plot is The Color Purple written by Alice

Walker and published in 1982. Another contemporary episto-
lary novel is Letters written by John Barth.
This lesson addresses the traditional or tightly structured
plot.
A plot can be defined roughly as a series of events that
occur within a work of fiction. Each event in a plot should be
connected to the next like links in a chain. Typically, stories
and plays depend on plot more so than poetry which is often
built on images and around ideas rather than centering on ac-
tion. Tightly structured plots have a purpose and that purpose
is to stir the reader’s curiosity and pull him or her forward to
the next event in the story.
Tightly structured plots present a challenge to the writer.
That challenge is to arrange and shape the events in a story so
that it resembles life without having those events seem con-
trived. This can be difficult since life itself does not always di-
vide easily into circumstances in which one event leads direct-
ly into, or causes the next.
A plot is best defined as the story line, or the action line
of a work of narrative fiction. Its first element is the introduc-
tion which sets the stage, introduces the characters and their
conflict, explains what happened before the story started, and
gives the setting. The introduction should present everything
that is going to be important in the story. At a certain point,
however, the introduction of new materials must cease and
the story must proceed toward a conclusion with the facts that
have been presented.
The point of attack marks the beginning of the major
problem or conflict in the story. It is the place in the narrative
where the battle lines are first drawn between the protagonist
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and his or her adversaries.

Next come complications, those hindrances and obstacles
that usually make up the central part of a story. During this
time various problems arise, characters take action to resolve
the conflict that exists not only between them and their adver-
saries but also between whatever values and ideas each faction
represents. Because of mitigating forces and previous events
the actions may not always bring about the desired results.
The climax of a story is the high point of deepest emo-
tional intensity. It should be tense, exciting, heartbreaking,
and emotionally wrenching. It is here the reader finally dis-
covers what the outcome of the conflict will be. This is the
point in the story where the rest of the action becomes inevit-
able. In a way, it’s the beginning of the end.
The resolution follows the climax. It is the point in the
narrative where all conflicts are solved and settled. It should
contain the action and dialogue necessary to bring the story to
a satisfactory and successful conclusion.
The conclusion of your story terminates the action and
settles all differences. All struggles are over. This can be told
in as little as one paragraph. In romance novels it’s often con-
tained in the epilogue.
The plot is the organizing principal that controls the or-
der of events in a story. The author can present those events
in a variety of orders. The story can be told in chronological
order where the events begin with what happens first and then
go to what happens next and so on until the last incident oc-
curs or is related. The author may choose to construct the
plot so that events move back and forth between the past and
the present. He or she may begin at the end, and then lead up
to how events worked out as they did. Sometimes a story is
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told by flashbacks which are devices that inform the reader of

events that happened before the opening scene of the story.
Sometimes the reader enters the story on the verge of some
important moment.
There is a not any overall agreement on what constitutes
a ‘good’ plot. In romantic novels, some insist that unless the
heroine is young and beautiful and the hero is dashing and
handsome, unless they meet and fall in love, are parted and
eventually find their way back to each other, there is no plot
at all.
While this may be the basis for most romantic novels,
within the romance genre there are a variety of sub-genres
that allow for imaginative and creative story lines. Some of
those sub-genres are contemporary, historical, time travel,
paranormal, mystery, fantasy, science fiction, and comedy.
Within a sub genre there can be further divisions such as me-
dieval historicals, regency historicals and western historicals.
Regardless of genre or sub-genre, the prime mover of any
plot is conflict. There are basically two kinds of conflict. The
first is external conflict in which a character struggles against
some external force or forces. These outside forces can be
another person, character versus character conflict, a group of
people, character versus society conflict, or a natural force,
character versus nature conflict.
Internal conflict is conflict taking place within a charac-
ter’s own mind and heart. It is a struggle, within a character,
between conflicting feelings, emotions, desires, and interests.
Internal conflicts can arise from external conflicts, such as ar-
guments or disagreements. Good plots employ a balance of
both internal and external conflicts.
An important element of any plot is character motivation.
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The actions of a plot are set in motion when the protagonist in

a narrative reacts to a situation he or she must confront. The
stimulus that provokes that reaction is motivation, which is
why characters behave the way they do. Motivation is po-
wered by incentives and drives. It is sustained and goal
oriented. Motivation can be intrinsic or extrinsic, or a combi-
nation of both.
There is no prototype for the proper degree of motiva-
tion an author should express in a narration nor is there any
edict that states to what extent the author should dwell on
that motivation. A balance is important. The character should
blend with the action that in turn stimulates change in the cha-
racter. A mark of a beginning writer is ambivalence and ambi-
guity of character motivation.
There are several special techniques that can be used in
plots. One of these is foreshadowing which is the use of clues
or hints to suggest what will happen later in the story. Fore-
shadowing should never be overt and obvious, but always sub-
tle and insinuated.
Another technique is the use of flashbacks where a scene
interrupts present actions by showing what happened at an
earlier time. Flashbacks can help to explain a character’s ac-
tions and motivation by telling about his or her past. Sus-
pense, which is the tension that builds as the reader wonders
how the central conflict will be resolved, is an important plot
technique. Another technique is the use of a surprise ending
where there is an unexpected turn of events at the resolution
of the story. Surprise endings are tricky and sometimes leave
the reader not only surprised, but dissatisfied.
An important equation to know and remember is that
plot + conflict = theme. You should be able to sum up the
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plot and conflict of your story in one major idea. This idea is
the theme of the story.
A subplot is a secondary plot in a piece of fiction. It is less
important than the main plot but it has some important func-
tions. It provides contrasts for and complements to the main
plot. When skillfully managed, the subplot broadens the read-
er’s perspective on the main plot and reinforces rather than
weakens the overall effect of the story.
A well constructed story is seldom written by the writer
who goes along with the assumption that everything will come
out all right in the end. An idea, even a brilliant idea that has
not been plotted with care and executed with competence has
small chance of being successful.
It would be difficult to over stress the importance of plot-
ting your story well. A plot gives unity, form, and purpose to
a story; however, followed too rigidly and used as an end in
itself, it imposes intolerable restrictions. In a good novel the
plot develops naturally as it interacts with the characters.
Rules about plot, like all rules concerning the craft of
writing, should be flexible and adaptable to given situations.
All plots involve conflict. In romantic novels, all plots involve
a conflict that is centered on a romantic relationship between
two individuals. Readers of romantic fiction further expect
that the conflict will eventually be resolved and the story will
terminate in a ‘happy-ever-after’ ending.
This does not mean the romantic writer cannot be crea-
tive; quite the contrary. When an author understands the
simplicity of the basic romantic plot, he or she can then begin
to merge and mingle any number of elements to create inter-
esting, complex, and ingenious stories. A few of the many
combinations are romance and adventure, romance and mys-
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tery, romance and comedy, romance and paranormal happen-

ings, romance and time travel, romance and fantasy, and rom-
ance and history.
A romance writer can be purely romantic and center his
or her conflict totally on problems that arise within a romantic
relationship. Some of the familiar themes for a purely roman-
tic conflict are star crossed lovers, illicit love, the eternal tri-
angle, fatal attraction, love at first sight, and unrequited love.
Even though the basic plot for a romance novel is some-
what restricted, the number and variety of stories is endless so
long as clever and inventive authors continue to combine old
forms and invent new combinations.

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Chapter 9

Overview of Chapter 9

ABSTRACT: It has been said that description is the es-

sence of fiction. This lesson explores the forms that descrip-
tions can take and investigates techniques that aid the writer in
depicting, in graphic language and explicit details, persons,
places, things, events, and experiences.
PURPOSE: The purpose of this lesson is to improve the
writer’s ability to write descriptions that convey immediacy,
vividness, and interest.
GOAL: The goal of this class is to allow writers to recog-
nize and use various patterns of development such as domi-
nant features, sensory language, figurative language, selective
words, and varied sentence structure to write concise and co-
lorful descriptions.

Writing Vibrant Descriptions

Fiction writing is a creative endeavor and as such, can
never be reduced to a set of rules or contained in a specified
number of lessons; however, the best way to improve fiction
writing is to improve the process by which it is created.
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Knowledge of style and correctness not only facilitates crea-

tivity, it is, in itself, a part of the message. Understanding and
improving the process by which descriptions are written can
greatly improve overall writing skills, for description seldom
stands alone. It is usually a dimension of other elements of
writing.
The word describe is from the Latin describere which means
to copy or to sketch. Description is a part of daily life. A
scientist describes an experiment, a poet describes a budding
flower, a salesman describes the amenities of a new appliance;
a child describes his new toy, a teenager describes her new
prom dress. They are all different; still they are all descrip-
tions.
Writers use descriptions in all forms of fiction. Such
statements as the sunrise was beautiful, and the rainstorm was
frightening, are illustrations of how description can tell about
material things. Description can also reveal abstractions like
states of mind and attitudes as shown in assertions such as:
Tom is pragmatic or Mary is idealistic.
When properly related, descriptions can provide con-
crete illustrations of general principals. The sunrise was beau-
tiful does little to stir the imagination. The rim of a yellow sun
climbed over the eastern horizon causing the misty veil of
morning to lift and float away, gives the description of sunrise
depth and clarity. The rainstorm was frightening pales in
comparison to: A driving rain struck with sudden force, un-
leashing a howling wind that rattled windows and shook
through the branches of trees.
Descriptions can convey the ‘essential nature’ of things
described. Tom is pragmatic is vague and obscure. Tom is a
tall man with a receding hairline and a practical manner, who
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interprets ideas and actions in the light of their consequences,

shows us something about Tom rather than telling us some-
thing about Tom. Mary is idealistic is not as emphatic or as re-
vealing as despite all her experience and education, Mary
tends to look at the world through rose-colored glasses.
When properly related, descriptions convey immediacy,
vividness, and interest. The reader is transported to another
time and place and sensations intensify as the scene depicted
becomes animated and engrossing. The reader moves from
viewing to experiencing.
A description is a report of a perception; as such it
should, as much as possible, sketch a picture of the author’s
reality. A good description appeals to the senses, enabling the
reader to experience feelings and to know the subject as the
writer knows it.
There are two kinds of senses. Our external or natural
senses are seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching.
Our internal or cognitive senses are imagination and memory.
Good descriptions appeal to both the internal and external
senses.
The natural senses most frequently evoked in written de-
scriptions are the senses of sight and sound. Cognitive descrip-
tions are conveyed by stirring to memory the reader’s past
experiences. It should be pointed out that each reader’s past
experiences are uniquely and particularly his or her own.
Reader reactions to any given description will be individual
and responses will vary greatly from reader to reader.
Most beginning writers over describe by closing their
eyes, imagining a scene, object, or person, and trying to de-
scribe everything they imagine. The result is at best an ob-
scure description, and at worst a mediocre description. Skill-
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ful writers use exact language and selected details, not only to
appeal to the reader’s senses, but also to imply how the writer
feels about a subject.
Most specific rules for descriptions are oversimplifica-
tions. The following suggestions are to be used as guidelines
and not to be viewed as hard and fast rules. The method or
methods used to describe depends on so many variables. First
consideration should be the overall purpose for the descrip-
tion.
One way to describe is through the use of a dominant fea-
ture. The writer selects the most prominent feature,
attribute, trait, or quality relevant to the subject to be de-
scribed. It is best to choose a feature that can personalized
and/or classified. In long works of fiction, dominant features
can be used repeatedly as a motif.
A second method of description is through the use of de-
scriptive details. Descriptive details are a few specific compo-
nents of the thing described which the writer chooses to em-
phasize in order to make the description vivid.
The use of power or impact words improves descriptions
by creating immediacy and action. Words signify to us ideas
and concepts in the way they are known to us and represented
in our minds. The right word, or the right comparison, con-
trast or analogy can reveal the universal by presenting the in-
dividual.
Use varied sentence patterns. It is sometimes not what
you say, but how you say it. Writers must consider words not
only from the basic stand point of meaning, but also from the
position of grammar and syntax.
Use figurative language when you wish to involve and
evoke the reader’s memory and imagination. A figure of
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speech is a word or phrase that describes one thing in terms of

another and is not meant to be understood on a literal level.
To date, some 250 types of figures of speech have been identi-
fied. The most common are:
(1)A simile which is a figure of speech that compares two
unlikely objects by using the words like, as, than, and resem-
ble. Example: As idle as a painted ship upon a painted sea. (2). A
metaphor which is a comparison made between two things
which are basically dissimilar with the intent of giving added
meaning to one of them. Example: Hope is a thing with feathers
that perches in the soul. (3) A personification which is a figure of
speech in which human characteristics are attributed to non-
human things or abstractions. Example: Grim-visaged, comfort-
less despair. (4) A paradox which is a contradictory, even ab-
surd statement which, on closer inspection, is found to con-
tain a truth reconciling the conflicting opposites. Example: I
see, said the blind man. (5) An oxymoron which is a figure of
speech that combines seemingly contradictory words. Exam-
ples: Bittersweet, sweet sorrow, wild civility, silent sounds.
Think of a description as a re-creation in words of some
object, person, place, emotion, event, sequence of events, or
state of affairs. The writer’s task is to create the verbal repre-
sentation. To do this, he or she must choose the right words
and also choose which words to exclude. The latter may be an
even greater undertaking than the former. Good descriptions
are never overstated. They blend and harmonize with other
elements of the story to produce images that appeal to the
senses of sight, smell, taste, hearing, and touch even as they
speak, ever so softly, to memory and imagination. Descriptive
writing is a success when it reveals as it recalls and persuades
as it presents.
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To describe successfully, a writer must not only see

clearly, he or she must perceive clearly. Seeing refers to out-
ward vision. It involves describing the concrete through sen-
sory details. Perceiving refers to inward vision and involves
describing the abstract through figures of speech. A good de-
scription uses both sensory details and figures of speech. A
great description maintains a delicate balance between seeing
and perceiving to create a symmetrical and harmonious re-
creation.
Descriptive writing requires powers of observation.
What we see is based to a great extent on what we know.
What we see is also based on past experiences. We don’t just
perceive stimuli; we impose patterns on stimuli to compose
them. The eye and the mind collect, sort out, and impose pat-
terns on visual, verbal, and auditory stimuli. The mind relates
those patterns to other patterns, enlarging, reinterpreting,
and gives meaning to our experiences and observations.
To be effective, the writer must learn to keenly observe
authentic experiences and then describe them in terms of
ideas and objects recognized, measured and compared. Images
register in the senses every waking moment of the day and be-
cause sensory impressions are so potent, descriptions are an
ideal way to achieve this end, and in the process to add depth,
scope, shape, sound, movement, and mood to the narrative. Is
it any wonder that description has been called the very es-
sence of fiction?

Exercises in Writing Descriptions

One way to write descriptions is through the depiction
and illustration of some central impression or overriding feel-
ing or emotion. After a dominant feature has been singled out,
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the writer must focus on and arrange all subsequent details.

Describe one of the places below using a dominant feature and
subsequent details:
1. My living room
2. A busy city mall
4. A quiet country retreat
The more detached the writer is from the description,
the more the focus is strictly on the object or scene, the more
objective the description will be. Conversely, the more a
writer injects personal feelings, judgments, likes and dislikes
into a description, the more subjective it becomes.
1. Write an objective description of a friend or acquain-
tance
2. Write a subjective description of the same person.
Word choice is an important part of writing good de-
scriptions. Some words carry more impact and are more po-
werful than other words in creating pictures in the mind. It is
the writer’s task to strike that happy medium between florid
and flowery depictions and boring and humdrum delineations.
1. Write a description of a starry summer sky. Use figur-
ative language in your description.
2. Write a description of a junked or wrecked automo-
bile. Use figurative language in your description.

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Chapter 10

Overview of Chapter 10

Abstract: Setting is the context in which the action of a

story occurs. It establishes and maintains the world in which
fictional characters live and move and have their being. This
lesson examines the major elements of setting and explores
ways to more effectively use them to create atmosphere and
mood and to establish realism and credibility.
Purpose: The purpose of this lesson is to help writers
move action along by skillfully weaving the details of setting
into the overall fabric of a story.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to help writers realize the
many ways setting can be used to tell a story.

Using Setting to Tell Your Story

Meaning is not contained in an isolated word but is rather
created by the interaction of a reader with a word when it is
set into in a certain context. The word setting has several
meanings and must always be considered in the context in
which it is presented. A setting can be a thing in or upon
which something, especially a gem, is positioned. It can be the
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music or the composing of music for a group of words, such as

a poem. A setting can be the eggs in the nest of a setting hen.
In the theater the word setting may refer to the physical trap-
pings of a production, the scenery and properties or it may re-
fer to the scenery alone.
In creative literature setting is defined as the time—both
the approximate year and the hour of the day—and the loca-
tion where a story takes place. But setting assumes a larger
role than just time and place. It is more than decoration or
background. It is less tangible than plot and characters, but no
less discernable. It is less observable than theme or symbol-
ism, but just as meaningful. For all its subtlety, it is perhaps
the most revealing of all elements of fiction. In a well-told
narrative, setting is so naturally intertwined with plot and
characters that it would be impossible for the reader to im-
agine the story taking place in any environment other than the
one where the author has placed it.
A fictional setting is a kind of frame or enclosure. All de-
tails related to time, place, and action fit within this frame.
These details are multipurpose in that they have many func-
tions and uses that operate simultaneously. A setting can in-
clude descriptions of customs, clothing, scenery, weather,
geography, buildings, rooms, and means of transportation. It
also encompasses the approximate year, hour, and day during
which the story takes place. Some writers contend, and un-
derstandably so, that the psychological state of mind of charac-
ters is an aspect of setting. Properly understood and applied, a
setting becomes the under girding for a fictional narrative.
The progress of civilization has been largely a process of
overcoming and taming natural forces that are wild, destruc-
tive, indifferent, unpredictable, and mysterious. Nature has
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never been, and is not now, understood. In a work of fiction

it may be seen as a hostile force. Destructive storms, blister-
ing sun, drought, numbing cold, enveloping snow, high
mountains, precipitous cliffs, burning deserts, quicksand,
wolves, tigers, snakes, alligators and vultures can all be seen
as manifestations of nature’s hostility toward the human spe-
cies.
Nature can also be viewed as a benign, friendly force.
Flowers blooming in an open field, warm sunshine, balmy
winds, groves of trees, refreshing lakes, butterflies, singing
birds, rolling plains, and ripening crops are just a few of the
signs of nature’s goodness and bounty.
Nature can be threatened by humans. Wanton destruc-
tion of forests and other resources, pollution of the air we
breathe, contaminated water, the extinction of some of na-
ture’s species, all contribute to the precarious state of the nat-
ural world.
Man-made settings always reflect the society that created
them. A building or a room bespeaks the character of those
who build and inhabit it. It also reveals the social and political
order that sustains that circumstance. An elaborate artificial
setting emphasizes the extravagant and refined taste of the
characters living there. It also reflects their powerful financial
and political assets. Add cracks in the plaster, chips in the
paint, faded wall paper, and the same setting can reflect a de-
cline in fortunes and power.
The purpose of setting is to create realism in literature.
There are many ways in which setting can interface and inte-
ract with other elements of a story to give it a sense of, and
feeling for, reality. In science fiction, fantasy, and time travel
stories the setting is important for its own sake. This is true to
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a lesser extent in paranormal stories. In some stories the con-

flict or struggle is a direct result of the setting. Although the
importance of setting may differ from one story to another, its
fundamental purpose is always the same, to lend a sense of va-
lidity and authenticity to the story.
Settings can reveal character. To understand characters in
a work of fiction one must look not only at the character but
also at the environment in which that character exists, because
those traits that make a character uniquely himself or herself
are dependent on environment as well as circumstance. Be-
cause setting can aid in the understanding of characters and
provide insight into their personalities, it is important to make
those settings clear from the very beginning. Even in rare cas-
es when the characters are far more important than the set-
ting, that setting will still have an impact on the characters and
their actions.
Setting can make the actions and conflict in a story seem
more real. Adverse natural forces are often the source of a
character’s strife and struggle. The tension between a charac-
ter and his or her environment can play an important part in
shaping action and tracing controversy; it can also reflect a
character’s inner tensions and strife. Setting can be a dramatic
backdrop for the struggles and confrontations between a cha-
racter and his or her adversary.
Setting can reflect and sustain social environment by re-
vealing manners, mores, customs and codes of conduct. It
may be used to emphasize the deleterious effects of squalor
and drabness or to stress the sometimes debilitating conse-
quences of wealth and abundance.
Setting can create mood or atmosphere through the use
of descriptive language that has sensory appeal. It should be
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set early in the story. The writer may describe the blazing
sun, the parched earth and the dry wind to set the scene for
the tormented thoughts and actions of a character. The feel of
warm sunshine, the scent of flowers, the taste of honey or the
sound of music can be used to create an ambiance of content-
ment and happiness.
The writer can create setting by the use of sensory images
and phrases that appeal to the five senses. These images do
two important things. One, they help the reader to picture
the place, the period in history, the year and even the time of
day that action and events are occurring , and two they help to
create the feeling or mood of the story. An open road may be
used as a place for a last goodbye. A calm spring morning can
awaken childhood memories. A falling rain can symbolize sor-
row.
Setting can contribute to the emotional and metaphorical
significance of the story. Metaphors and symbolism are prop-
erties of all literature. In narrative fiction they often grow out
of mood and atmosphere which are both aspects of setting.
The dawn of a new day, a cloudless sky, a ringing bell, the
sound of laughter can speak of optimism and new beginnings.
Twilight, thunderstorms, a clock striking midnight, wrench-
ing sobs heard in the quiet of a lonely room, can create a cli-
mate of gloom and endings. A sullen sun, a train whistle, the
mournful cry of a night owl, the singing of a skylark, even a
soft sigh or the drumming fingers on a table can take on larger
and more profound meanings. Repeated use of a specific as-
pect of setting can be used to create symbols or motifs.
Because fantasy, science fiction, and paranormal stories
often exist in a world that knows only the bounds set by the
author, setting is an important factor in the structure of the
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story. Setting affects structure to a lesser degree in contempo-

rary stories and in historicals.
A major function of setting is to lend realism to the sto-
ry’s action. The more detailed the description of the setting,
the more believable the events of the story become. Without
a basis in detailed settings, stories lose much of their credibili-
ty.
An appropriate and well-drawn setting helps make a story
convincing. Some settings require a minimum of details. In
others much more is required. Local color stories depend a
great deal on setting. In them the author gives a wealth of par-
ticulars to establish mood and the general color of the loca-
tion. An author should resist the temptation to set a story in
the Kremlin, Africa, Buckingham Palace, or a tobacco farm in
the Deep South unless he or she has more than a passing ac-
quaintance with these locations.
A plot is always connected to a specific time and place.
This should give some clue as to how important the setting is
to the telling of the story. A proper setting prepares the read-
er for events and happenings in the story. A setting that is
comparable with the events and characters of a story weaves
the narrative into a cohesive whole. A setting that is animated
and visualized intertwines with events and actions to become a
part of the plot.
Is the point of view influenced by the setting? Definitely,
the point of view that a writer employs is determined to a
great extent by time and place. The point of view for a hard-
boiled, fast paced detective story that takes place in a large,
modern-day metropolis will not be the same as the point of
view for a sweet, slow moving love story set in the eighteenth
century in a small town in Middle America.
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Setting can be abstracted to discover and infer such ele-

ments as tone, statement and theme.
Details that are sensory in nature—sounds, smells, col-
ors; brief descriptions that are written in precise, vivid lan-
guage and characters that interact with the setting—all con-
tribute significantly to the understanding of the tone of a sto-
ry.
Setting can be a kind of pictorial language, a means for
the author to make broad and sweeping sociological, political
or psychological statements or to symbolize and crystallize an
idea.
Setting can give the key to important themes in a story
through its interaction with other elements of the story. Au-
thentic settings help to communicate the central ideas and ba-
sic themes contained in a work of fiction.
Time is a part of setting. The average human mind holds
two basic views of time. In a broader sense it is conceived as
the length of human life. A more limited perspective embrac-
es only that tiny unit that encompasses this present and con-
scious moment. Fiction holds a somewhat different view of
time and its passing.
In fiction, time can be a fixed point. Two examples are
“It’s three o’clock. Where is Tom?” or “This is Thursday.
Why hasn’t Martha called?”
Duration of time is another way a writer of fiction meas-
ures the passing of time. Duration can be measured in many
and varied increments. Three examples are: “It’s been years
since I last saw Mr. Jones.” “Sam hasn’t written for months.”
And “How many minutes has Mary been talking?”
The fictional overview of time in a story is threefold. The
first view is concerned with the period in history in which the story
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occurs—middle ages, colonial America or modern Europe. The

second asks the question, how long does it take for the action in the
story to occur? Does it cover days, months, years, and ages? The
third inquires into the passage of time as it is perceived in the story.
Does time move swiftly to cover events and actions with precision
and speed or is the pace more relaxed and leisurely?
Setting refers to time and place and all that these imply. It anc-
hors a story in time and space. It should add to the story but never
hinder or block it.
Artificial environment includes rooms, buildings, and cities.
Natural environments consist of time of day or night, nature,
weather, seasons. Cultural environments embrace habit, attitudes,
customs, beliefs, and laws of a given era or age.
Settings should be animated and vitalized until they become a
part of the action. Vivid descriptions can deepen the sense of time
and place. Whether you choose to write about the fabulous, the re-
mote, the mundane or the supernatural; if you describe fairy woods,
brooding forests, city slums, or lovely landscapes, be aware of this
all pervasive fact. Your setting is an integral and important compo-
nent of your story.
Visualize an appropriate setting for each of the following imagi-
nary situations:
1. While waiting for the street car, Laura sees the man who left
her standing at the alter six years ago coming toward her.
2. Hank’s heart is in his throat as he approaches Sarah to ask her
to go with him to the barn dance.
3. Ellen looks from the vast expanse of sky to the wide horizon
that looms in the distance.
4. Sir Sidney Markum frowns as he enters the room.
5. Mary’s stomach tightens with tension as she opens her
mouth to reply.

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Chapter 11

Overview of Chapter 11

Abstract: This lesson inspects the dual nature of dialogue

by examining the cognitive dissonance that exists between
spoken (oral) language and unspoken (inner) language. It illu-
strates ways to use this dichotomy to create tension, resolve
conflict, and explain motivation when writing dialogue.
Purpose: The purpose of this lesson is to increase the be-
ginning writer’s ability to coordinate the inner thoughts and
outer speech of characters when writing dialogue.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to improve beginning
writers’ ability to write dialogue that is compatible with and
comparable to a character’s inner thoughts and ideas.

Roughly Speaking: Writing Dynamic Dialogue

The word dialogue has two basic meanings. The first is a
philosophical term referring to the Socratic method of philo-
sophizing through the lengthy discussion of a subject. The
second is a literary term referring to the spoken conversation
of characters as presented in works of fiction. This lesson ad-
dresses the literary definition of dialogue.
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Dialogue appears in every form of literature: short sto-

ries, novels, biographies, essays, plays, even poems. It ex-
presses a character’s attitude, opinions, and beliefs. It is a way
to suggest the essence and to reflect under-the-surface images
by telling the substance. Dialogue gives expression to the ten-
sion between speech and thought. Good dialogue brings a
sense of life to the action in a story and provides a change of
pace from narration. Bad dialogue is like finger nails across
glass or across a chalkboard.
Dialogue is a major tool for all writers of fiction. It allows
an author to present or show rather than demonstrate or tell.
At its simplest, dialogue is a conversation between two
people; however, other characters may also participate. The
number of characters participating, circumstances, and action
are all important. From the narrative of a story the reader
learns of characters but it is through dialogue that he or she
comes to know the characters.
Dialogue should stir a story to life. Each word should be
of vital significance. To write good dialogue the writer must
probe hidden emotions and dig deeply into his or her psyche.
Why—because dialogue seeks to express timeless passions
and ageless perspectives in highly personal and intimately re-
vealing terms. Some of Adam’s exchanges with Eve could not
have been too different from some of Paris’s dialogues with
Helen or Anthony’s tête-à-têtes with Cleopatra. Some of the
conversations between Heathcliff and Cathy do not differ
greatly from interchanges between Rhett and Scarlett. Ri-
chard must have expressed to Liz some of the same sentiments
that Brad now articulates to Angelina. The difference is in the
presentation.
Good dialogue serves two purposes. First it gives insight
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into characters’ personalities, dreams, desires, shortcomings,

and motives. In short, it makes the character come to life. Its
second function is to contribute to the ongoing narrative of
the story.
Dialogue should provide information, explain facts, and
portray characters. It should do this by implication rather than
by overt statements. Dialogue must sound authentic and at the
same time be discriminating and compact. It can be used to
build suspense, plant clues, foreshadow events, and sum up
plot actions. A clever writer uses words and expressions that
reveal his or her characters’ backgrounds, ages, personalities,
and feelings
Sometimes it’s appropriate to use dialect, jargon, or slang
when writing dialogue, but be careful. These can very easily
be overdone. When characters ‘speak’ they should sound nat-
ural. When writing dialogue, sometimes using sentence frag-
ments, idioms, and contractions is permissible, even required.
When using speaker tags, it is important to be as specific as
possible. It is more relevant to write: Nell screeched than Nell
said.
Human beings strive always to establish internal harmo-
ny, consistency and congruity among their opinions, attitudes,
knowledge, and values. When faced with striving to establish
internal harmony because of some cognitive dissonance, fic-
tional characters’ reactions should reflect the same desires and
strivings as human beings display.
The need for internal harmony is accomplished in one of
four basic ways. An individual may disregard a message by de-
ciding the circumstances surrounding the message are irrele-
vant. The adding of a new cognitive element may cause disbe-
lief of the message. Sudden exposure to a new reality may
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cause the hearer to deny the message. Changing an element in

the message may cause the hearer to reconsider and decide the
message is true, after all. In all these cases the spoken dialogue
may be approximately the same, but the inner dialogue or
thought processes of the individual will be vastly different de-
pending on the situation that is causing the cognitive disson-
ance.
The dissonance or consonance relation in each fictional
situation should be in accordance to the importance of the
elements in that relationship. Four ways to create cognitive
dissonance are: (1.) a character is forced into making a deci-
sion by choosing between two alternatives. The internal
thoughts of the character may be the opposite of what he or
she says aloud. There can be external acceptance and external
rebellion. (2.) When a character is forced to comply with
another’s demand and perform a behavior that is inconsistent
with his or her beliefs, the result is likely to be overt and visi-
ble anger, reflected in both internal thoughts and outward
speech. (3.) A character who is exposed to dissonant informa-
tion, whether he or she chooses to hear, or is the involuntary
recipient, is faced with a choice. He or she will elect either to
deny the information or to disbelieve the messenger. The in-
ward thoughts leading to this decision can speak volumes
about the character. (4.) Disagreement with another person
or other persons will be expressed by both internal thoughts
and external behaviors. Behaviors may succeed in giving one
impression to other characters in the story while inner
thoughts allow the reader a different view.
A character’s change of attitude can lead to dialogue that
reveals a great deal about that character. Attitudinal changes
often occur when a situation suddenly becomes more rele-
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vant, a character is exposed to a new reality when a new cog-

nitive element is added to the situation, or when an element
changes or decreases in importance.
Dialogue that recognizes cognitive dissonance in its sever-
al forms can reveal character, convey atmosphere, dramatize
the story, and move the action along. Dialogue is more dra-
matic if descriptive details are used and if the structure and
length of sentences is varied.
Points of view affect dialogue. The writer should select
the point of view that allows him /her the most writing free-
dom and the one that adds the greatest interest to the story.
In an omniscient point of view—sometimes called pano-
ramic, shifting, or multiple point of view—the narrator
speaks in third person and knows just about all there is to
know about every character and event in the story. God-like,
the author is, or at least should be, present everywhere and
visible nowhere. This point of view can make the reader con-
scious of the author’s presence. If it lacks subtlety it may re-
strict reader involvement.
A writer may choose to use a limited omniscient point of
view. As the title suggests this point of view limits perspective
to one, sometimes two characters. This limiting point of view
provides a built-in unity and creates a strong illusion of reali-
ty. It also restricts perspective and limits the scope of action.
In a first person point of view the story filters through the
consciousness of one narrator who speaks, as the title sug-
gests, in first person. This creates a kind of built-in unity but
it also limits the scope of action.
When a writer uses the dramatic point of view, the read-
er only “sees” what is happening and hears what is being said.
Action becomes swift and creates a sense of immediacy. The
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reader must interpret the significance and the meaning of

what characters do and say. A dramatic point of view runs the
risk of misinterpretation by the reader.
Dynamic dialogue rings true. It conforms to the charac-
ters and to the situation. It also adds drama and immediacy to
narrative and conveys character individuality.
The time frame for a story has a tremendous effect on di-
alogue. Read the following excerpts to see how dialogue
slowly but surely changes over time. The first excerpt is from
a book titled Near To Nature’s Heart. It was written in 1876 by
E. P. Roe.
“Theron,” she cried in great alarm.
He did not answer.
“Theron, are you ill?”
“Yes, yes, sick at heart. My evil destiny will conquer yet.”
“Oh, Theron.” she pleaded, laying her hand on his shoul-
der, “tell me your trouble. You need dread no evil I can
avert.”
“If that were only true,” he answered, looking at her with
a face so full of trouble that her tears started in sympathy.
“How can it be otherwise,” she asked, beginning to dread
she knew not what. “Can you think me so ungrateful that I
will not make any sacrifice for you?”
“You will never be ungrateful, Vera, and you have thus
far, no more cause for gratitude than I have; but I fear you
cannot—mark I did not say will not—I fear you cannot give
up your superstition—your faith in what I am sure is all delu-
sion—for my sake; and yet you must, or else the chance for
happiness greater than I thought possible passes away from
both.”
“Theron, your words are as dark as night. What can you
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mean? Why are you so pale?” cried Vera in great distress.

This next excerpt is from a novel titled Ten Years A cow-
boy. It was written in 1890 by Tex Bender.
“Is—is that Nettie in there?” asked Phil with some trepi-
dation, when Mrs. McKinley had paused to take a breath.
“Why law, yes. Nettie, haven’t you spoken to Phil yet?
You haven’t forgot him have you? Crawl over here and take a
look at him; he’s growed powerful.” And Mrs. McKinley took
her daughter by the shoulder and drew her forward where she
could both see and be seen.
“How do you do, Mr. Johnson?” was what she said and to
save his soul Phil could answer only—“I’m pretty well; how
do you do?”
He would have given his pony, and he thought a good
deal of that pony—would have given his pony to be able to
say something more and to have said it better, but he could
not. He had been thinking what to say to Nettie all the time
her mother was talking to him, trying to decide whether to be
dignified and lift his hat and say formally, “I am pleased to
meet you again, Miss McKinley,” or to say “Hello, Nettie,”
and take her hand and squeeze it a little, and so re-establish
their old familiar relations at once.
And here he had only said, “I am pretty well, how are
you?”
The following excerpt is from a short story titled “Black
Gold”. It was written by Beth Farrell and published in the No-
vember 1938 publication of Street and Smith’s Love Story Mag-
azine Vol. CXLVI No. 4, pages 70-81.
The girl gave Beth an all-enveloping look then threw back
her head and burst into laughter. “You? You’ll last five mi-
nutes after he sees you.”
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“Why,” Robin asked impatiently, “I’m a good cook.”

“You’ll never get a chance to prove it. He’ll take you for
another rich girl chasing him with a new excuse, and send you
kiting. Sister, those swell clothes are a dead give-away. You’d
better turn around and waggle back home. I know Mr. Riding
well. I’m Lily Dickory, his timber cruiser’s daughter. I was
brought up in Riding’s camps.”
“I’ve got to have the job,” Robin said simply, opening her
purse to exhibit a lone dime and a few pennies snuggling
there. “That’s every cent I have in the world.”
The following excerpt is from Return to Paradise. It was
written in 1997 by Barri Bryan and published in 1998 by New
Concepts Publishing.
Belle shook her head from side to side. “I hope you can
manage to hold on to your sanity until after the sixth of next
month.”
Kate’s tone was ominous. “Mamma.”
“I want you sane for my wedding,” Belle announced with
a shrug of her thin shoulders.
Kate vaulted to her feet. “Your what?”
“I don’t want an insane matron of honor when I marry
Cody the sixth of next month.” Belle leaned against a porch
post and watched Kate’s reaction to the bombshell she had so
casually dropped.
“I take it back, Mamma.” Kate laid her hand over her
heart. “Long before I am over-the-wall crazy, you are going to
send me into cardiac arrest.”
“Sit down, Kate. You’re shouting at your mother.”
Kate pressed a sweaty palm to her forehead, and sat
down. “Mamma, you have known Cody less than a week.
How can you even consider marrying him?”
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Occasionally dialogue is used in poetry. The poem “Alice”

is a good example of the use of dialogue in poetry.

ALICE
Sam came in the evening, before sundown,
Sat on the porch, wearing a frown,
Asked, “Did you hear?” I replied,
“No” Then waited. He said: “Alice died.”

“When?” I asked. He looked away.

“Sometime early yesterday.”
“How?” I prayed, please, God don’t reply
In pain. She shouldn’t have to die

The way she lived, in the shadow of

Heartache and betrayal and loss of love.
Let it be an easing across,
A sense of gain, not a feeling of loss.

Sam bowed his head, in a monotone,

Said, “No one knows, she was alone.”
An ache moved in to bruise my soul,
As sadness took its anguished toll.

Alone! The solemn immensity

Of that little word swept over me.
What in the universe can atone
For being left to die alone?

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Chapter 12

Overview of Chapter 12

Abstract: Language is a code used by speakers and listen-

ers to communicate. This includes nonverbal as well as verbal
language for nonverbal language is very much a part of the to-
tal act of communicating. The importance of body language as
it accompanies the spoken word is of special interest to the
writer of fiction who must daily find innovative ways to
‘show’ rather than ‘tell’ of a character’s emotions and actions.
This lesson explores the many facets of nonverbal language
and examines the ways they can be used to enhance dialogue.
Purpose: The purpose of this lesson is to make the fiction
writer aware of the close relationship between verbal and
nonverbal language and to suggest ways to use this knowledge
to strengthen dialogue.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to help writers improve
their ability to write dynamic dialogue through a better under-
standing of the role of nonverbal language as it relates to the
spoken word.

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Using Nonverbal Language to Enhance Dialogue

Language is a code used by speakers and listeners to
communicate. This includes nonverbal as well as verbal lan-
guage for nonverbal language is very much a part of the total
act of communicating. The meaning of a message is deter-
mined not only by the words spoken but also by many other
factors such as tone of voice, bodily movement, physical space
between one person and another, and signs and gestures. Even
when sitting still and being silent a person can be communi-
cating. All these behaviors are subject to interpretation by
others.
Nonverbal codes carry more weight that spoken words.
Recent research reveals that only seven percent of the impact
of a message is verbal. Thirty-eight percent is the tone of
voice. A whopping fifty-five percent is nonverbal. (Mark L.
Knapp. Essentials of Nonverbal Communication, 1980.) For ex-
ample, if the spoken message is: “I am 65 years old” and the
body language is a nod of the speaker’s head, the listener may
well assume the statement is one of affirmation, maybe even
of pride. If the spoken message is “I am 65 years old” and the
body language is a dropping of the head to stare at the floor,
the message could be one of reluctance, or insecurity, or
shame.
If the spoken message is: “I know, I know,” and the
speaker claps his or her hands, the message sent is one of joy.
If the verbal message is “I know, I know,” but the body lan-
guage is the drumming of fingers on the table, the message is
the complete opposite.
The importance of body language as it accompanies the
spoken word is of special interest to the writer of fiction who
must daily find innovative ways to ‘show’ rather than ‘tell’ a
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character’s emotions and actions. This ‘telling’ is most often

done through the use of dialogue and tag lines.
A tag line is a couple of words or phrases that follow the
actual words spoken by a character in a story. A tag line tells
the reader who is speaking. The simplest tag lines are ‘he said’
and ‘she said’ or some minor variations like ‘she questioned’
or ‘he replied’. After a while, even if the actual dialogue is ac-
tive and forceful, this kind of conversation becomes stilted and
strained because face to face human communication involves
more than the exchange of verbal messages. It also includes
the many and varied patterns of body language.
The term body language does not mean we carry on con-
versations through our bodies. It does mean there is more to
conversation than dialogue alone can tell us. Human beings
express themselves in all sorts of ways. Body movements are
messages. They serve as cues from which the ‘listener’ makes
inferences. Body language sometimes adds to, sometimes al-
ters, and sometimes negates what is being said with words.
The writer who understands the ambiguity and uncertainty of
body language can use that knowledge to enhance dialogue
and propel story action forward.
Some things to know about body language, or more ap-
propriately, some things to know about non-verbal language
are: Nonverbal language cannot be avoided and although it is
usually interdependent with verbal communication, it can of-
ten be more significant than the verbal message; it is especially
accurate at the subjective and emotional levels. Although non-
verbal language is more ambiguous than verbal communica-
tion, it can be used to define characters and interpret relation-
ships.
There is no way human beings can avoid communicating
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non-verbally. To a certain extent we are all born with the

tendency to react physically in particular ways and when ver-
bal and nonverbal messages contradict each other the ‘listen-
er’ tends to believe the nonverbal message.
Nonverbal communication is limited as a system because
continuous and concrete meanings do not exist. Nonverbal
messages only serve as cues to make inferences. Even though a
writer can use nonverbal language on an extended basis by
giving a character the habit of smiling a certain way, raising an
eyebrow, or frowning, for the most part, nonverbal language
is situational.
Nonverbal messages are more difficult to fake than verbal
messages. Both the encoding and decoding are dynamic
processes with continuous feedback and adjustments between
the communicators.
Eye movement can express a wide range of human beha-
vior. Consider the following expressions:
He was a shifty-eyed and sly.
Her cold stare froze me.
He could kill with a glance.
We see eye-to-eye on the subject.
Because the eyes are an extension of the brain, it is almost
impossible for an individual to disguise eye meaning. Eyes
perceive more quickly than the ears hear. What we see is
processed before what we hear and we are more likely to re-
spond to our first impression.
Visual attention plays an important, and at times a critical
communicative role. During the middle ages women took the
eye-dilating drug belladonna in the belief that it made them
beautiful. The truth is that dilation of the eyes indicates a posi-
tive interest in something and large pupil size often signifies
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sexually toned emotions. Lid closure can bring about pupil

contraction, then reduction. Fatigue decreases pupil size. Al-
cohol, anxiety, or sexual stimulation all cause the pupils to di-
late.
A gaze or look can relate orientation, attention, interest,
involvement, or relationship with another individual. There
are many kinds of gazes. A gaze can be directed toward anoth-
er or withdrawn. There is the active avoidance of looking at
another. We often say such things as “Don’t stare at that poor
unfortunate woman.”
Interest and involvement can be gauged by the duration
and intensity of a gaze. A gaze can be freely given by the
speaker: “I can’t get enough of looking at you;” or demanded
by the ‘listener’: “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” It can
imply anything from sorrow and embarrassment to gratifica-
tion and delight. It can convince the listener of lies or add to
the speaker’s credibility. Gazes can run the gamut from a cold
shifty stare, to a limpid look of love.
The face is the principal location for the disclosure of
emotional states. Facial configurations can express sentiments
and feelings that run all the way from extreme happiness to
abject sorrow. Some examples are pouting, smiling, winking,
lowering eyelids, or lifting an eyebrow. Facial configurations
such as grimaces or smiles can show and in the process, tell of
pleasant or unpleasant emotions such as surprise, happiness,
anger, disgust, sadness, fear or distress.
Facial expressions require some ability to decode for they
can be disguised to be misleading. Facial clues that reveal the
attempt to cover deception are usually small movements that
often go undetected: the smile that is a little too long and set,
the frown that is a little too studied and severe, the satisfied
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smirk that is gone almost before it’s seen. Even a close ob-
server can miss such clues. The face can also be used to govern
conversation as its expressions open and close communication
channels. Not all facial expressions represent a single emo-
tion, some are combinations of numerous and varied emo-
tions.
The rhythmical patterns of speech often change, as does
tone, when a speaker shifts from speaking to one person and
begins to address another person. Pauses, intonation, stress,
structure, and pitch all add to the message of the spoken
word. Emotions such as depression, anger, and hostility have
an effect on the vocal parameters of speech. They affect tempo
and can bring about disruptions and hesitations.
If a speaker is lying or trying in some way to deceive,
vocal correlates are short, and high-pitched in tone with many
hesitations. Paradoxically, the deceiver may speak either more
quickly or more slowly.
A wide range of emotions may be suspected if the pitch of
a speaker’s voice is high, the tone loud, and the tempo fast.
He or she may be expressing confidence, anger, or fear. If the
tone is loud but the speech is slow, the speaker is likely ex-
pressing contempt. Low pitch, soft tone, slow tempo indi-
cates boredom, grief or sadness.
Some vocal characteristic that help express emotions are:
Pitch—high or low, Range—spread or narrow, Articula-
tion—forceful or relaxed, Rhythm—jerky or smooth, Tem-
po—rapid or slow, Disfluencies such as “uh,” “er,” “ah.”,
Pauses—frequency and duration. Stress is important. Italics
are used to show the word or words on which the writer
wishes stress to be placed. The word or words a writer
stresses can make a world of difference in meaning. Consider
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the following sentences: What have I done?—I’m not sure.

What have I done?—I didn’t realize. What have I done? Exclu-
sive of what others have done. What have I done?—
Questioning the deed.
A gesture is a movement of the body or any part thereof
that is considered an expression of thought or feeling. Speech
and gesture are employed together in the same enterprise
even though gestures are independent of speech; it appears
that age strengthens the ability to coordinate speech and ges-
tures. With age gestures become more specialized and pre-
cise. Gestures employ space as well as time in the creation of
expressive forms. Speech uses only time.
Fiction writers can show a range of emotions by having a
character adjust clothing, run fingers through his/her hair, re-
peatedly manipulate rings or other personal adornments,
smoke a cigarette or pipe, drink a cup of coffee, tug at a jacket
or a dress hem, or touch his/her face. Almost any part of the
body can be used to gesture.
Signs are nonverbal acts that have a direct verbal transla-
tion or a dictionary definition. Some examples are: using a
thumb and pointing finger to form a circle with the other
three fingers outstretched, forming a V for victory sign with
your fingers. Some signs such as lifting the middle finger or
circling the ear with a forefinger are considered to be insulting
or obscene.
There is a difference between a non-verbal sign and a
verbal symbol. Symbols enable the mind to function within a
world of impressions different from the actual world. They
are used to evoke thought. They don’t lend themselves to
nonverbal channels. Non-verbal signs do. Signs are simple in-
dications of some condition or event. As such they evoke im-
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mediate, almost automatic responses.

The way a person walks and stands can indicate lack of
confidence and or tell of self- assurance. An individual, who
walks with head high, shoulders back and jaw set, exudes con-
fidence with every movement. Someone who ambles along
with shoulders hunched, eyes downcast and face sagging
speaks volumes about his or her lack of assurance.
Nonverbal acts that maintain the back-and-forth speaking
and listening behavior between two or more transactors are
labeled controllers, regulators or adapters. Nods of the head,
eye movement, body shifts, restless movements of hands and
feet, tongue movements, kicking movements of the legs, and
finger tapping are often used to control the emotions. Move-
ments that may or may not be gestures are not apt to be chal-
lenged. Sounds that may or may not be speech almost always
are.
All nonverbal language is in direct relationship with the
verbal language that accompanies it. Those relationships can
be many and varied.
Shaking one’s head from side to side while saying no rein-
forces negative verbalization. A young man is asking for his
true love’s hand in marriage. His red face, sweaty hands, and
floor-directed eyes, all complement a message of nervous
fear. Pointing to the left when saying, “Go down the hall and
turn left” complements the giving of directions.
The speaker’s words can conflict with his or her nonver-
bal actions. “A young woman blushes while saying, “I’m not
embarrassed.” An anxious wife says to her to husband: ‘We
need to talk.” The husband responds with, “I have a few mi-
nutes to spare.” Even as he speaks, he glances at the clock on
the mantle. When actions conflict with verbal messages, we
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tend to rely more on the nonverbal ones. Sometimes nonver-

bal messages conflict with each other. A controlled voice and
a smiling face can be betrayed by shifting feet and clenched
fists.
Nonverbal behavior may accent parts of a verbal message.
Shaking a finger at someone while saying, “I meant every
word I said.” Jabbing someone’s shoulder with a pointed fin-
ger while saying, “This is your fault.” Shaking a fist at someone
while saying, “You will pay for this!”
Even when sitting still and remaining silent, a character
can be communicating. Passive, silent behavior can have a va-
riety of meanings and stimulate a variety of responses. Un-
yielding silence can be brief or lengthy. It usually indicates
tension, strain or anxiety. Bonding silence suggests that two
people many share an invisible bond of trust and understand-
ing. Altering silence is indicated when a character holds his or
her tongue during an argument or gives another the ‘cold
shoulder’, refusing to speak. Either instance may bring on in-
creased anger or hostility. Divulging silence is silence that
hides or withholds explicit information. Discerning silence
suggests good or bad, agreement or dissent. Triggering silence
can move characters to say or think things that they might not
say or think as a result of spoken language. Silence can also re-
veal character traits such as moodiness, shyness, thoughtful-
ness, hostility, arrogance, or any umber of other characteris-
tics. Silence may convey a message other than the one in-
tended.
Some other aspects of non-verbal communication are ap-
pearance: grooming, hair style, and clothing; physical contacts
such as hand shaking, social hugs and kisses. Territorial spaces like
public space, social space, personal space, intimate space.
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Nonverbal language, like verbal language, always conveys

more than it ‘says’ and ‘speech’ can be interpreted from sev-
eral vantage points such as postural, practical, incidental, and
emotional.
There is a difference between sex and gender. Sex is a
classification based on biology. It is not a matter of choice, but
a happenstance of birth. Gender is a learned psychological
concept. It is not bestowed but learned over along period of
time.
In general men in all times and cultures use nonverbal
gestures and space to command attention. Women use non-
verbal language to reflect emotions and to socialize. Women
achieve closeness by sharing themselves and their lives
through personal communication. Men more typically create
closeness by sharing interests and activities.
Body language should relate to and coordinate with the
character’s dialogue and emotions. Individuals respond to sti-
mulus messages with thoughts, feelings, and behavioral acts as
well as with verbal responses.
When using nonverbal messages a writer should remem-
ber and consider the character’s background and past patterns
of behavior. Communication implies that one person is active-
ly making his or her experience known to some other person
by means of a shared code so there should also be harmony
between verbal and nonverbal communications. The two
must be comparable. In nonverbal communication no one sig-
nal carries much meaning in isolation.

Describe emblems that match the following statements.

1. I promise.
2. It’s time to take a break.
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3. Listen to me!
4. That was a great meal.
5. I’m bored.
6. A display of respect.
7. Embarrassment
8. Fear
9. I’m leaving.
10. It’s a deal.
11. Childish defiance
12. Disapproval
13. He’s crazy
14. Asking for a ride.
15. Victory sign.

Answers to the above statements

1. Lifted hand
2. A wipe hand the across the brow
3. Shaking of your finger
4. Rubbing your stomach
5. A yawn
6. A salute
7. A Blush
8. Trembling
9. Waving your hand
10. Shaking hands
11. Sticking out your tongue
12. Two thumbs down
13. Turning your forefinger around your ear
14. Thumb in motion
15. Forefinger and middle finger held up and separated

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Chapter13

Overview of Chapter13

Abstract: Humor of some form exists in all societies,

even the very primitive ones. A high state of civilization is the
prerequisite for the development of satirical writings. Satire
requires a discriminating intelligence and thrives on spurious
proprieties. This lesson explores the element of both humor
and satire and offers techniques for recognizing, reading and
writing in both categories.
Purpose: The purpose of this lesson is to help writers and
readers understand, appreciate and create both humor and sa-
tire.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to aid participants in un-
derstanding and appreciating the comedic quality of humor
and the moralistic framework of satire.

Humor and Satire

Certain basic abilities set human beings apart, and distin-
guish them from other creatures in the world. The ability to
laugh is one of them. It seems that we are biologically pro-
grammed for laughter. It is not a planned or studied act but
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something we do instinctively. If you have ever been seized by

an ill-timed fit of laughter you know also that laughter is not
always appropriate, fitting, or of our own volition.
Regardless of background or culture, we all understand
laughter and unlike language, we don’t have to learn how to
laugh. Very small infants laugh and they retain that ability for
the remainder of their lives.
Laughter is rooted in the capacity to recognize the incon-
sistent and the absurd in people and in situations. Conditions
that produce laughter do not exist outside the realm of what is
strictly human. Circumstances that create laughter usually ap-
peal more to intelligence than to emotions. Laughter depends
on observing a new or unique condition or seeing a familiar
circumstance in a different light. It is immediate and tied to
spontaneity, occurring in a flash of an insightful moment or
the flicker of a new revelation.
Many scholars have offered opinions about the source and
reason for laughter (X. L. Kennedy, Literature 4th ed., 1987).
Philosopher Henri Bergson described it as “A form of ridicule
implying an attitude of disinterested superiority.” Max Beer-
bohm thought that “Incongruity is the mainspring of laughter.”
Friedrich Nietzsche opined that perhaps man was the only
creature who laughed because “He alone suffers so deeply that
he had to invent laughter.” Agnes Repplier believed “Laughter
springs from the lawless part of our nature.”
In truth, what makes a person laugh depends on a wide
range of circumstances and conditions and what may be hila-
rious to one person may not be in the least humorous to
another. What makes you laugh today may not be funny to
you tomorrow.
Those things that make us laugh run the gamut from hu-
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mor, whose intent is to bring pleasure, to gentle satire, which

points to discrepancies of an action or situation and makes it
appear laughable and ridiculous, all the way to ridiculing satire
in which laughter is evoked by an action or situation which
implies bitter condemnation of some irrational irregularity.
These are not discrete entities that are separated by a set rule
or distinct barrier. They run along a continuum, with one fad-
ing into the other and elements of one also being an essential
part of the other. This lesson addresses the elements of two
reasons for laughter. They are humor and satire.
The subject of humor is devilishly difficult to understand
even though it is predicated on the belief that we know what
is normal, otherwise we would not see the incongruity of a
situation that provokes amusement. Humor is content with
the laughter that incongruity produces. Humor demands
spontaneity. It is also subtle and surprising. It often asks the
listener or reader to bridge a gap and make a connection. Ex-
ample: Yesterday I was riding down the road with this lady
magician and she turned into a motel. Subtlety, much like
beauty, is often in the ear of the listener and dependent on
some ‘inside’ knowledge. Example: Is their marriage a suc-
cess? I’ll say. They’re almost as happy as the Bundys. Implica-
tion, the reader must be partner in the humor if it is to be
successful. Another example: If you think a hot tub is a stolen
bathroom fixture you just might be a red neck.
It is not easy to explain or convey humor. It resists close
analysis. Some common elements of humor are incongruity,
newness or unfamiliarity, and uniqueness.
The most disturbing and perplexing aspect of humor is
that the very conditions and situations we fear the most when
exaggerated and treated in a causal and off-handed way can
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become objects of amusement.

Writing humor is especially challenging because the writ-
er cannot trip and take a sprawling fall, make outlandish faces,
and ridiculous gestures, or produce nonsensical sounds and
noises. He or she must rely completely on words to create
circumstances and discourses that create in his or her audience
chuckles, snickers, guffaws, grins, and even belly laughs.
Although the talent that allows a writer to produce hu-
mor on paper is innate, there are some techniques that he or
she can learn and practice that will help to improve and ad-
vance that god-given ability.
The element of disclosure is an integral part of humor.
Move your readers along a familiar pathway and when they
least expect it, change your course and shift to a different di-
rection, one that is calculated to inject surprise and amuse-
ment.
Use colorful figures of speech that appeal to the five
senses and add a comical flavor of their own to the story.
Some examples are: (1) Saying he smells like he was born
downwind from an outhouse is much more effective than say-
ing he stinks. (2) Her skin was soft as a pulled cotton boll
paints a more powerful picture than simply stating her skin
was soft. (3) This pie has my lips saying hallelujah is more
graphic than saying this pie tastes good. (4) The room was as
dark as the inside of a coffin is more effective than the room
was dark. (5) She could talk a gate off its hinges is much more
depictive than writing she was persuasive.
Find innovative ways to convey the trite and mundane.
This can be done by mixing similes and metaphors with dialo-
gue and descriptions. Phrases such as welcome as a monthly
bill, adroit as a rhinoceros, fast as a winking eye, and danger-
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ous as wearing a metal hat in a lightening storm, when strateg-

ically placed can add interest and color to your writing. Util-
ize colorful adjectives and forceful verbs that move action
along. Exaggeration and embellishment are also ways to
heighten and intensify humor. Last but not least, time your
punch line for maximum effect. Even if that line should be a
part of the previous paragraph, put it into a paragraph all its
own. In written humor as well as in spoken humor timing is
arguably the most important element in producing laughter.
There is a subtle difference between wit and humor. Wit
is a subjective quality of speech or writing that combines ver-
bal ingenuity with keen perception. It implies superior mental
powers. It requires the intellectual ability to perceive similari-
ties in seemingly dissimilar things. Being witty requires being
clever or ingenious, and maybe even being a little bizarre.
Ready wit recognizes immediately the contradictory or far-
fetched in a situation. It is a swift play and flash of mind ex-
pressed in skillful terminology such as puns or surprising con-
trasts.
Humor is objective. It deals with the idiosyncrasies and
incongruities of human nature good-naturedly exhibited. It
implies a sympathetic recognition of human values and de-
mands a sense of proportion and self-evaluation. While humor
provides the pleasure of a laugh at the absurdity of a character
or a situation, it does not make its subject the butt of disapproval,
but merely the source of laughter. Humor, unlike wit, is more than
mere levity, flippancy or lightheartedness. Successful humor re-
quires that there be an object of laughter regarding some individual,
item, predicament, practice, habit of speech, or use of words.
(Jan Hornung. “Seven Steps to Better Humor Writing.”
http://www.writerswrite.com/journal/may02/hornung.htm.
Access date: October 07, 2007.)
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There are all kinds of humor; some is mocking, some

compassionate, some capricious. Farce is a brand of humor
based on exaggerated, impossible incongruities.
Humor of some form may be found in all societies, even
the very primitive ones. A high state of civilization is the pre-
requisite for the development of satirical writings. Satire re-
quires a discerning intelligence and thrives on fallacious pro-
prieties. Satire has flourished in western literature since the
time of the ancient Greeks. Both the ancient Greek and the
ancient Roman civilizations produced some superb satirists.
Dramatic satire was a special province of the Greeks. Non-
dramatic satire was a product of the Romans.
Satire is an attack on human follies and vices as measured
positively by some normative religious, moral or social stan-
dard. While it makes the reader laugh, it also makes him/her
see how wrong or silly some aspect of human nature is. It
casts a decisive eye on vices and follies by holding them up to
mockery. This is usually done to point out an absurdity so that
it can be shunned or corrected. The aim of satire is to set a
moral standard for society. The satirist attempts to convince
the reader to see his or her point of view through the force of
laughter. (Laurie Henry, The Fiction Dictionary.1995)
When we say a writer’s tone is satirical we are indicating
that the work, be it prose or poetry, is being critical of some
human fault of foolhardiness.
Horatian satire is named for the Roman poet Horace. Its
aim is to correct by provoking mirth and compassion. Hora-
tian satire never becomes overly excited about the evils it is
belittling. Its tone is lighthearted and amused rather than dis-
turbed or distraught. It induces a sophisticated kind of laugh-
ter. Horatian satire tends to ridicule human folly in general or
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by type rather than attacking specific persons.

Juvenalian satire is named for Juvenal, the great Roman
satirist and poet. Juvenalian satire points with anger, con-
tempt, and aggravation to corruption and evil. It displays a
stern indignation at the outrageously absurd actions of human
beings by putting them in an absurd light that invites scornful,
critical laughter. All satire, be it harsh or gentle, is done with
the purpose of developing awareness and even bringing about
reform. (McNamee, Corin, and Rogers, Literary Types and
Themes, 4th ed, 1971)
The uncertainty surrounding what is a set moral standard
for society in part explains the ineffectiveness of much of to-
day’s satire. Satire uses laughter as a weapon. Implicit in satir-
ical laughter is a censure of the folly of a particular absurdity.
For satire to accomplish its purpose there must be agreement
between the author and the reader about what is rational, cor-
rect, and standard. In today’s varied and extended society
there exists a lack of conviction about what is ‘fitting’ or
‘normal’ in terms of human behavior. This lack of certainty is
accompanied by an obsessive concern for ‘politically correct-
ness’, thus making it difficult to define satire and even more
difficult to produce it. For example Jeff Foxworthy’s red neck
jokes while wildly hilarious to some are offensive to some
others.
Another problem that hampers writing satire is tone. Of-
ten the basic difference between works of humor and satirical
works is that of tone. Tone that can be achieved orally by
pitch, stress, inflections, and other forms of non verbal lan-
guage is much more difficult to master when it must be con-
veyed by the written word.
Burlesque is a vehicle for satire that characterizes by out-
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landish exaggeration. The distortion is secured in an assort-

ment of ways: The magnificent may be made ridiculous, hon-
est emotions may be turned to sentimentality, a serious sub-
ject may be treated frivolously or a frivolous subject may be
treated seriously.
A parody is a composition mimicking another, usually so-
lemn piece of work. A parody is to literature what caricatures
and comics are to art. By use of caricature the artist emphasiz-
es certain facets of a person’s face, figure, or attitude that have
passed unnoticed until they are shown by exaggeration to re-
veal another, more fundamental side of that person. Parody
has been an important means of creating satire as far back as
Aristophanes.
Under the guise of praise, sarcasm is a bitter expression
of strong personal disapproval. It is intended as an uncompli-
mentary taunt and meant to hurt.
An invective contains cruel, offensive language. It is di-
rected against a person or cause.
An innuendo is an insinuation or implication. It often car-
ries a damaging or threatening connotation.
Irony is the weapon of choice for the satirist. Properly
used it can turn humor into satire by pointing out weaknesses
or evils of human establishments. Satire is sometimes called
“extended irony.” Irony is a broad term referring to the detec-
tion of a reality different from a masking façade. The writer of
irony does so with tongue-in-cheek for the actual intent is ar-
ticulated in words that carry the opposite meaning. (Michael
Meyer, Literature Reading, Thinking and Writing, 1987)
Irony comes in many shapes and sizes. It can be savage
and harsh or delicate and delightful. What ever the style or
purpose, it always implies that there are two groups of listen-
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ers keyed into the same statement, story, or piece of informa-

tion and that some of the listeners see it for what it is, in all its
complexity and dreadfulness and the other listeners don’t. If
you’re in the former set, congratulations; the ability to recog-
nize irony, especially in writing, has for centuries, been one of
the surest tests of intelligence and sophistication, for irony al-
ways involves some sort of inconsistency or incongruity.
The concept of irony originated with the Greeks and was
first mentioned in Plato’s Republic in the 4th century BC. So-
cratic irony is fairly straightforward. In it the reader recogniz-
es the irony of the situation and knowingly smiles as the writ-
er pretends ignorance, defeats superstition, or deprecates
popular wisdom. For Roman rhetoricians, irony was, for the
most part, verbal. Meaning was often contradictory to the
words spoken. It was not until the early 1500’s that we find
the first mention of irony in English literature. The concept
seems to have developed and expanded slowly. By the mid ni-
neteenth century it was an accepted and popular genre.
Irony can be separated roughly into three categories.
Dramatic irony requires that the author reveal that his charac-
ters of fiction are being created and controlled by him. It oc-
curs most frequently in theatrical works. Verbal irony is
present when an author says one thing and means another.
Verbal irony is complex and difficult to convey. It can leave
the untutored reader wondering what exactly is the writer’s
intended meaning. Situational irony occurs when there is a
discrepancy between what a character in a story expects and
hopes and what actually happens in a story. The reader recog-
nizes the discrepancy; so may some of the other characters in
the story.
The argument for scoffing at human foolishness or wrong
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doing in any form is that satire, by its very sting, is meant to

cure the human race of deceit and pretense. Satire at its most
derisive becomes ridicule. In ridicule laughter is evoked at the
incongruities of a person or situation. It carries a bitter de-
nunciation of the irrational deviation from the normal. Ridi-
cule usually occurs when the author attacks the person rather
than his or her aberration. The most effective satire refrains
from going too far. It is never insulting or abusive to an indi-
vidual. It always maintains a balance between hate for the act
and love for the perpetrator.
The difference between a realist and a satirist is that the
realist wants to come to terms with the world as it is; the sa-
tirist wants to reform the world. His/her remedy is to expose
those wrongs to mockery and mirth.
Satirists often employ fantasy or the sense of the absurd as
vehicles for their writings. Fantasy is the creation of a world
where common sense has collapsed. It usually authorizes a
conscious breaking free from reality. The word applies to
works taking place in a non-existent and unreal world, or
concerns incredible and unreal characters. A famous fantasy is
Alice in Wonderland.
A Modest Proposal is an example of satire based on the
sense of the absurd. In his essay, Jonathan Swift suggests that
the English eat Irish babies as a means of “preventing the child-
ren of poor people from being a burden to their parents or
country, and for making them beneficial to the country.”
While humor may be engaged in for pure enjoyment, sa-
tire must always have a purpose and a goal. It is designed to
disparage or blame human fallacy or vices as measured nega-
tively against a positive normative moral or social standard.
Satire is designed to make its readers feel critical of them-
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selves, of their fellow human beings, or of their society. Some

satires accomplish this by making the reader laugh at human
follies and flaws; others by creating a feeling of annoyance and
indignation at human vices and transgressions.
Satire requires a disciplined eye, a devious sense of hu-
mor, an impish mind and a rich imagination. When reading
satire, be on the alert for (1) the unexpected joining of oppo-
sites. Example: “I will say this much for nobility; that tyran-
nical, murderous, rapacious and morally rotten as they were,
they were deeply and enthusiastically religious.” Mark Twain
in A Connecticut Yankee in King Author’s Court. (2) An irreverent
twist or deflating anticlimax; Example: “The holy passion of
friendship is of so sweet and so steady a nature that it will last
through a lifetime, if not asked to lend money.” Mark Twain
in Puddinhead Wilson’s Calendar. (3) Saying the opposite of what
is meant. Example: Joel Chandler Harris’s Brer Rabbit, when
being stuck to the tar baby pleads, “Please don’t throw me in
the briar patch.”
Satire makes heavy demands on the reader as well as the
writer. The writer of satire can spare little thought for his or
her audience. He/she must remain detached from the target
and at the same time, present a straight-faced ‘put-on’ toward
readers. The reader is left on his own to recognize and detect
incongruities, situations, discrepancies between words and
their meaning, incompatibilities between action and results,
and inconsistencies between appearance and reality. Such un-
certainties can leave the indiscriminate or untaught reader
with feelings of confusion and frustration.
The final test for satire is the test of time. This means sa-
tirical themes must deal with eternal and universal truths. Ex-
ample: Shaw’s Pygmalion which is the basis for the movie My
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Fair Lady suggests that the street urchin and the grand lady dif-
fer little except in manners and habits of speech. Gulliver’s Tra-
vels ridicules those who ignore lessons taught by logic and
common sense. A Modest Proposal addresses political and social
injustices. Satire detects the subtle qualities of laughter and
turns them into weapons against greediness, smugness, sel-
fishness, conceit and duplicity.

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Chapter 14

Overview of Chapter 14

Abstract: Writing is a process, an action, something a

writer must endure and work through in order to free crea-
tive potential and master inventive capabilities. A writer must
not only know his or her subject material; he or she must also
know how to discover, investigate, perceive and proceed
through the writing process. This lesson investigates the steps
involved in the writing process and explores the ways they re-
late to the writing of long fiction.
Purpose: The purpose of this lesson is to familiarize the
beginning novelist with the process involved in writing a nov-
el.
Goal: The goal of this class it to acquaint beginning writ-
ers with the process of discovering, planning, organizing,
writing, revising, and proofreading long works of fiction.

A Novel Idea: Writing A Romantic Novel

The novel derives its name from the Italian novella, a
short prose tale of gallantry, scandal, and conspiracy. Novellas
were very popular in Italy in the 14th century. The first ro-
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mantic works of fiction were the Spanish and French rom-

ances written in the 16th and 17th centuries. This was a time
when reading a novel could be a social event. People read to
each other as a way of sharing experiences.
Everyone knows what novels looks like. They are those
big books that take up so much space in book stores and libra-
ries. Novels wear bright colored dust covers or splashy paper
backs. NOT ANYMORE! Today there is a new kind of novel
called an e-book. It can be bought on line, downloaded and
stored and read on a computer or a dedicated hand-held read-
ing device. These small electronic readers can hold up to 100
books. So, just maybe we can no longer define a novel by its
appearance. That doesn’t matter so much. Everybody knows
what a novel is—or do they?
A good place to begin defining what constitutes a novel is
to state the most essential quality of a novel. That we can do.
A novel’s most essential quality is its allusion to reality. This
doesn’t exclude fantastic or supernatural stories. Stories in
these genres do, however, put to more severe test the au-
thor’s ability to induce the ‘willing suspension of disbelief.’
A novel is prose fiction, yet not all prose fiction can be
classified as a novel. Word length helps define a novel. Some
say anything over 40,000 words can be considered novel
length. Others argue that it takes at least 50,000 words for a
work to be considered novel length. In either case, a novel is a
story told about characters that are related to some kind of so-
ciety in a fairly realistic fashion.
Another way to define a novel is to say it is a book-length
story in prose whose author tries to create the sense that,
while we read, we experience vicariously the emotions,
events, and adventures as they unfold in the novel. The sense
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of the actual, of being real, is the hallmark of a novel. In

summation we can say that a novel is book length fictional
prose narrative, having many characters and, often, a complex
plot.
Whatever the definition, it is a known fact that modern
fiction began in the late 17th century and developed in the
18th century. (Lionel Stevenson. The English Novel, 1960.) It
descended from, or more to the point evolved from, earlier
forms of writing. First there were the ancient epic tales such
as The Iliad, The Odyssey, and The Aenied. Then came the mediev-
al legends of Charlemagne and King Arthur. Most literary his-
torians agree that the first English novel of incident was Robinson
Crusoe. It was published in 1797.
(http://www.classicreader.com/author.phpaut.2 Accessed
January, 2008.)
Some other early English novels are Moll Flanders also by Daniel
DeFoe, and Pamela or Virtue Rewarded written by Samuel Richardson,
a London printer, in the 1840’s. Novels have been the dominant
form of popular literature for the past two centuries. (E
Notes.com. Http://www.enotes.com/literarycriticism/rise-
english-novel. Accessed January, 2008.) Many of the 19th century
novels contain sentimentality and pathos that are not to our modern
day tastes. Some 19th century authors are Charles Dickens,
George Eliot (Marian Evans), Thomas Hardy, and Robert
Louis Stevenson, and of course, the Bronte sisters, Charlotte
and Emily, who both published first novels in 1847. Some
well known 20th century novelists are Sinclair Lewis, Kathe-
rine Ann Porter, Saul Bellow, Maya Angelou, Maeve Binchy,
Anne Rice, Danielle Steele, John Grisham, and Mary Higgins
Clark.
Over the last few years there has been a shifting of tone,
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time, and perspective that has extended and expanded the

limits of romantic novels. Today they often contain elements
of the psychological or the paranormal. They are always highly
individual. Regardless of the sub-genre, modern romantic no-
vels gain their strength from being grounded in the concrete
and individual. The characters have first and last names. They
live in places the reader can accept as being real even if those
places are set in distant lands or far away planets. The reader
can also imagine experiencing what the characters experience
and feeling the emotions the characters feel.
For all the changes, extensions and expansions, the basic
elements of a novel have not changed over time. Every novel
contains characters, setting, a central problem or conflict, and
a planned, structured plot. There are some advantages in
choosing to write a novel as opposed to writing a short story.
The length and scope of a novel make it suitable for addressing
philosophical themes, sweeping historical panoramas, pressing
social problems, and complicated political concerns. Charac-
ters in a novel have time and space to grow and develop.
There are some disadvantages also. A novel’s length makes it
complicated and more difficult to sustain a story line. The au-
thor must develop a multiplicity of characters and a lengthy
and involved plot that is able to integrate and carry a sub plot
or sub-plots. If the novelist wishes to enter the mind of more
than one character, it may be necessary to adapt a multiple or
an omniscient point of view, which is, from a technical stand-
point, more difficult.
Any way you slice it, writing a novel is a messy business.
The procedure is not progressive; that is, it does not move
along in an orderly fashion from beginning to end. Quite the
contrary, it is a disorganized, repetitive, complex, and unsta-
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ble process that consists of a series of actions, changes, and

functions that, in turn, bring about an end result.
The first step in this process is invention. You, the au-
thor, must sit down and very carefully think up, imagine,
create a tentative plot line, keeping in mind that all along the
way you will be revising, reviewing and adding incidents and
complications. Next write down in rough outline form the
skeleton of your plot. Remember, you are gathering material
for a long and tedious project. When you have completed the
tentative outline, make a character sketch of your two most
important characters. These are people you will be living with
for quite a while. Make sure they ring true and are substantial
enough to stand the test of months, maybe years, and 50-100
thousand words. Hopefully, during that length of time, they
will grow and change.
Every novel must have a name. A good way to choose a
suitable name is to answer two questions. The first is what is
the main idea contained in my novel? The second question is
what do I want my readers to know when they have finished
reading my story? If you don’t know the answers to these two
questions it is time to do some serious thinking and some
earnest soul-searching. At the onset, you need a goal. This is
not written in stone, it can, may, and probably will change as
you move along, but you need a definitive starting point.
The next consideration is point of view. Point of view re-
fers to the perspective from which the story is told. It answers
the question who is the narrator? Point of view is never the
same in any two stories. Point of view bears on meaning.
You might want to choose the omniscient or shifting nar-
rator who is all-knowing and can move at will into any charac-
ter’s mind. This point of view has two distinct advantages.
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The writer can present events and situations not observed by

the central character. The writer can develop the ideas and
emotions of a number of characters.
The writer using this point of view should be careful lest
these advantages convert to disadvantages. Movement into a
minor’s character’s mind can distract from the main issue of
the story. Scenes that exclude the main character may obscure
the line of action.
You might opt for the limited omniscient narrator who
has access to the responses and tells the story from the pers-
pective of one or two characters. The advantage to this ap-
proach is the coherence of the story gains by the fact that all
actions and events are judged in the light of the perspective of
one or two characters. The reader’s strong sense of character
can lead to considerable involvement in that character’s prob-
lems.
A disadvantage to this approach is the writer’s presenta-
tion of all characters is limited to the perception of the focal
character or characters. Action is limited because the focal
character or characters must personally witness all important
scenes or have them reported to him/her in some credible
manner.
The first person narrator speaks in first person, using the
first person pronouns I and me. This approach allows for a
very personal view. The advantage to this approach is first
person can present a sense of immediacy lacking in other
points of view. First person seems to disarm the reader.
The disadvantages are the character must explain why
he/she is telling the story. The dramatic outcome of the story
is limited. The narrator should be alive and more or less ra-
tional and sane when the story ends.
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The dramatic or objective narrator is almost the opposite

of the omniscient narrator. A dramatic narration point of view
follows only external, observable happening and events. This
type of narration is largely conversation since the author does
not enter the minds of the characters.
The advantage to this point of view is it can create fast-
paced action. Like a camera with a sound track, the narrator is
recording what is seen and heard and nothing more.
The disadvantage is the writer can’t present flashbacks,
(sudden recollections of past events,) because the author does
not enter the characters’ minds.
Most novels are written in third person either from the
omniscient or limited omniscient point of view, but it is al-
lowable and acceptable to use any point of view you choose.
How are you going to tell this story?
The second step of writing a novel is discovery. This
word implies previous existence. Your plot and your charac-
ters exist, if only in the briefest of forms. Now it’s time to
take a second look at what you have done. First look at your
plot. A plot is a series of life-like actions and incidents which,
in total, make up the story. It should be cohesive, coherent
and consistent. Development of plot must be unyielding in
one sense. It must follow logic. Now is the time to explore
your plot with suppositions and insights. Take your time; lay
your scenes and foundations well.
Investigate your characters, come to know them inti-
mately. No matter how believable actions may be in them-
selves, they do not ring true if they are not performed by
well-defined individuals who are recognizable in terms of hu-
man experiences, faults, triumphs, and failures. Although they
are not real people, characters are drawn from real life. Your
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story will be concerned with the problems of these characters.

They must be developed subtly and carefully. Fictional charac-
ters should be flawed and contradictory, just a real people are.
Yet within this scope of contradictions there must be consis-
tency and congruity. Your characters should grow and change,
but not without reason and motivation, and never because of
some arbitrary demand of the plot. Character actions and
reactions to some extent dictate the structure of the novel.
Structure refers to the way the plot is assembled and how
it is presented. A long work of fiction cannot be regarded as a
novel if it does not have unity of structure. There is more than
one way to structure a novel. A straightforward narrative
means plot and structure are virtually the same. The story is
told in a chronological sequence. If the story is told in flash-
backs, remembrances, letters, or out of sequence events, the
structure of the story diverges from the plot.
Another element of a novel is the setting which can be
defined as the natural and artificial environment in which cha-
racters in a novel live and move and have their being. Settings
in a novel should be compatible with the plot. A setting can be
historical, cultural, or regional.
One of the elements that unifies a story is the theme. The
theme is the novel’s underlying central idea or thesis state-
ment. Themes are best expressed in the form of ideas that are
an inseparable part of the overall work. This does not imply
stating some overt outlook or perception over and over again.
It does entail weaving the theme so tightly into the fabric of
your plot that upon the completion of the story, even though
it is not recognized as such, it is known, and even more to the
point, felt by the reader.
Narration is arguably the essence of fiction. The first rec-
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orded English fiction is a narration. The object of narration is

to present, as much as possible, a story that comes alive in the
reader’s imagination.
The medium of fiction is language. The way a writer ma-
nipulates language is what creates his or her style. The par-
ticular way an author develops a plot, dramatizes action, and
composes dialogue, creates his or her own personal and very
unique style.
Descriptions aid in the expositions of scenes, actions, atti-
tudes, and feelings. Descriptions should bring drama and
emotion to the imagination of the reader.
Dialogue is the conversation between two or more cha-
racters in a novel. It should be realistic and appropriate. Writ-
ers sometimes include commentaries, analysis and interpreta-
tions for insight and illumination about action and characters.
If present at all, these should be kept to a minimum. It is bet-
ter to concentrate on action and dialogue, to show, rather
than tell. If the author includes too many commentaries, the
work may sound preachy or pedantic.
Irony is an important element in fiction. There are three
different kinds of irony. Dramatic irony occurs when the cha-
racter sees his or her situation in a limited way while the read-
er sees things more broadly and comprehensively. Situational
irony arises when the author presents circumstances in which
punishments do not fit the crime, or rewards are not earned.
Forces in situational irony are beyond human control. They
are often beyond human comprehension.
Symbols are specific things that point beyond their own
meanings toward greater and more complex meanings.
If you don’t already, begin now to keep a notebook.
Write down details, thoughts, hunches, images, catchy and
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clever phrases. Record your observations, sudden insights,

and ideas for revision. Never trust anything to memory.
When the thought hits, or the phrase is found, write it down!
Even if the idea seems trivial or irrelevant, make a note of it.
It’s surprising how some of those little thoughts can prove to
be strong points or help to add a special touch.
During the day I keep my notebook in my tote bag,
which I take everywhere. At night I keep my notebook on the
stand beside my bed, next to my flashlight. Many of my best
thoughts and most penetrating insights come to me in the
middle of the night.
It is a good idea to collect all your notes and make an out-
line of your novel. This helps to organize material. It aids in
remembering. It helps to unify. It is a tremendous help in pre-
senting the story clearly and effectively. It helps reduce re-
dundancy and aids in coordination. It’s invaluable for writing a
synopsis of your story later.
Choose one outline form and stick to it. The form you
choose does not have to be a conventional outline form. It can
be a setting down of your own making. The only hard-and-fast
rule to adhere to is that of consistency. An outline that follows
a set or consistent pattern helps maintain that most crucial of
all writing elements: coherence.
An outline is like a blueprint or a framework. It can help
assemble the scattered bones of a series of ideas into a skele-
ton that has form on which to hang meaning. It is not meant to
be followed to the letter. Topics and headings do not represent
equal space in the finished product. Outlines are to assist, not to
dictate. An effective way to outline a novel is by chapter.
At last you have acquired the prerequisite materials to
begin writing your novel. Now you are ready to involve your
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characters, and your reader, in chaos and crisis. This means

telling enough, but not too much. Effective fiction writing
must do more than express ideas clearly. The writer must
capture the reader’s attention and interest and hold it. The
first page, the first paragraph, yea, the first sentence of your
novel is of prime importance.
Margaret Mitchell rewrote the first chapter of Gone with
the Wind sixteen times. A good novelist must be willing to la-
bor long and diligently over the first few lines, paragraphs,
pages of a novel.
Try to pull your reader immediately into the environ-
ment and atmosphere of your story.
Now that you’ve achieved a beginning, stop, take a
breather and begin to listen to yourself as the story develops
in your mind. Even though you’ve made an outline and a ten-
tative plan, don’t be afraid to explore depths and meanings
and relationships that were not envisioned in your initial plan.
Remember as you proceed, that a novel is not a series of short
stories. No chapter is complete within itself. You never want
to end a chapter on a complete note. Close with some sugges-
tion or promise of what is to come.
I have spent an inordinate amount of time telling you to
have a plan, to make an outline, to articulate your theme and
to identify your purpose. Now I am going to tell you to begin
to question all of these. You might ask, why have them, if I’m
going to question them? The answer is: You have them so you
can question them. By now, you know where you are, where
you’ve been and where you hope to be going. How you get
there always has room for improvement and refinement. You
can and should question, hone, implement and improve your
work as you move along. There will seldom be major
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changes, but there should be an endless stream of minor cor-

rections, implementations, alterations, and modifications
along with new insights, and revelations. Writing a novel is
always a learning process.
Somewhere along the way, usually about the middle of a
work, every writer experiences a time when the writing juic-
es refuse to flow. When this happens lay the work aside for a
few days. In the meantime have someone else read and criti-
que what you have done.
When you are ready to begin again, look first at the plot.
Consider adding a new twist or turn. Re-examine your cha-
racters. Zero in on specifics. Consider making the hero or the
heroine’s plight more unbearable or mysterious. Check inte-
raction between characters. Redefine motives and reason s for
actions. Open the door to imagination. Do a little experi-
menting.
The telling of stories is the oldest of all arts. There should
always be a beginning, middle and an ending; however, a sto-
ry completes itself at a certain point. Characters gain under-
standing and tolerance. Couples who began by hating each
other are now madly in love.
In romantic novels, more than anywhere else, there is an
insistence on the proverbial happy ending. However, not all
love stories end on a happy note. The truth is, some very
famous ones have not. Whatever the ending it must catch up
loose ends, and bring the story to a close in a way that leaves
the reader feeling that differences have been reconciled, ques-
tions have been answered and problems have been resolved.
Most romance novels end on a note of happiness. Even if
the ending is not a happy-ever-after one, when concluded, a
novel should give a sense of completeness as well as a sense of
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satisfaction. The main thing is to make the ending a real end-

ing, not just a stopping place. Personally, I believe any story is
better served if some ambiguity exists past the final ‘the end.’
A good ending is the best way to reward your reader for his or
her investment of time and interest in your story.
A novel should be rewritten at least once by the author
before it is given over to someone else for a complete critique
and edit. Two rewrites is more prudent. It is that second re-
write that leads most often to the tightening and deletions so
necessary to a coherent and cohesive plot and to the fine tun-
ing to created more realistic characters.
No writer is competent to do the final editing of his or
her own work. We tend to read what we meant instead of
what we wrote. Because we are so familiar with the characters
and plot line we often fail to see unclear passages or to identi-
fy faulty transitions and recognize ambiguous expressions.
Now is the time. Begin. Good luck.

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Chapter 15

Overview of Chapter 15

Abstract: Only after a book reviewer understands the

structure of a work of fiction, comprehends its meaning and
grasps the way in which the theme of the work manifests it-
self, can he or she render an effective review. Even then a re-
view is, by its very nature, a personal response. This lesson
discusses the lack of agreement when writing literary reviews,
assesses the legitimacy of personal interpretations and dis-
cusses the reviewer’s responsibility to both readers and writ-
ers.
Purpose: The purpose of this lesson is twofold. It estab-
lishes broad parameters for review writing and stresses the re-
viewer’s dual responsibility to the reader of the review and al-
so to the writer whose work is being reviewed.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to make potential review-
ers aware of the charges, challenges, and responsibilities of a
reviewer and critic.

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Writing a Book Review

The study of literature has three main branches. They are
literary theory that evolves and changes over time, literary
history that is revised every now and then and literary criti-
cism. Literary criticism lacks hard and fast rules. Unfortunate-
ly, it is also often lacking in reason.
Criticism’s purpose is to stimulate a direct appreciation
for and ascribe an accurate level of value to a given work. In a
narrow sense literary criticism is concerned with the durable
value of literary works. It looks at formal qualities such as
structure, theme, symbolism, plot, and characters. There is
absolutely no agreement about what constitutes a broader
sense of literary criticism. Critics simply do not apply formal
criteria as a seamstress would a tape to measure the merits of
a given literary work when writing a review of that work. On
the contrary, they trust their own experiences coupled with
their innate abilities, to arrive at decisions about the merits,
appeal and worth of a work. The subjectivity of such endea-
vors makes for differences in opinions that are as deep as the
Grand Canyon and as wide as the Atlantic Ocean.
What is a review? First, let us establish what it is not. A
review is not a précis which is a shortening, in the reader’s
own words, of the text of a written work. A review is not a
summary which is the shortening of a text that is unified by
identifying the theme of the work. A review is not a commen-
tary which is a series of statements and opinions about a work.
A review is more and less than any of these and it may contain
elements of all three. A review is more subjective in that it of-
fers opinions and judgments. It is less encompassing in that it
is not constrained to surmise the plot in its entirety or to tie
the work to any specified theme or idea. A good reviewer
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does not confuse a review with other short descriptions of a li-

terary work.
Reviews, by their very nature, are personal responses.
Reading a book and writing about it is one inseparable
process. Only after a reviewer understands the structure of a
literary work, comprehends its meaning, and grasps the way
in which the theme of the work manifests itself, can he or she
render an effective review.
Are reviewers literary critics? Yes, they are. Even though
the word criticism implies finding fault, a good reviewer is
more concerned with interpretation and analysis that with nit-
picking and fault-finding. Any reviewer worthy of that name
assumes that the work he or she is reviewing has some value
and that it deserves fair and unbiased attention or it would not
have fallen into the hands of a reviewer in the first place.
Still, a reviewer is a critic and must ultimately make as-
sessments and submit evaluations. All reviewers evaluate to
some degree by relying on personal tastes and preferences.
This is a perfectly legitimate practice. A reviewer may say,
“This heroine is shallow and immature” or “This plot is weak
and poorly constructed” or “This story lags in places and is
lacking in action.” These are valid assessments and, as such,
have their place in review writing; however, a good reviewer
sets standards and looks for principals that embrace much
more than just statements of personal taste. Their criticisms
and reproaches are not simply stated, they are also justified.
The statement about a shallow and immature heroine is sup-
ported by evidence of how the reviewer reached that conclu-
sion. The criticism of a weak and poorly constructed plot is
sustained by the citing of specific instances that uphold that
verdict. The observation that there was not enough action is
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followed by actual citations where action lags or is missing.

A reviewer’s responsibility is two fold. He or she is first
and foremost, accountable to the readers who will read the
review. Second is the obligation to the artist who created the
work. The reviewer should give, as much as is humanly possi-
ble, an unbiased and objective review.
Since a reviewer cannot, in a short review, address in
depth every aspect of a given work, how much of the work
being reviewed should the reviewer reveal? He or she should
tell enough about the work so that readers of the review are
able to judge not only the work itself, but also the reviewer’s
judgment of that work.
A review is, to some extent, a literary analysis and like
any other analyses, searches for truth as the writer has per-
ceived and presented it. Insight into the development and arti-
stry of any work comes from knowledge of literary concepts
and understanding of the standards of writing required to
create good fiction. Reviewers of any genre should also care
passionately about what they do and believe fervently that fic-
tion not only provides good recreation but also help readers
better understand problems that arise in their own lives.
The reviewer must make an effort to see the work from
the writer’s point of view and to discover the writer’s main
purpose or theme. Then the scope of a review should be nar-
rowed to deal with a few fundamental topics such as characte-
rization, narrative development, point of view, and style.
A good way to review a character is to recognize influ-
ences that helped shape the character, to identify flaws as well
as virtues and then to trace development, change and growth
through the story. Characters should be true to life and react in
ways human beings would be expected to in similar situations.
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A competent evaluation of a plot traces the pattern of the

plot and makes a sound evaluation of prominent events and
their significance. Fictional probability can be complex and
tricky. In all cases action in a novel should be written in the
range of reader probability.
A good evaluation of point of view conveys a keen per-
ception of the emotional and intellectual impact of a writer’s
distinctive narrative style.
A review of style is demanding, both from an intellectual
and an emotional standpoint. It requires that the reviewer
perceive and convey, in a few concise and succinct words, the
writer’s ability to tell a story, to be subtle or complex, simple
or discerning.
Since a work of fiction is always a search for meaning, the
reviewer’s ultimate charge and challenge is to find that mean-
ing through analysis of various elements of the work and to
convey to his or her readers how well the author succeeded in
his or her quest.
A fair and unbiased reviewer is careful to read and review
every book on its own merits. The reviewer must read the en-
tire book carefully before analyzing structure, interpreting the
book’s contents, and evaluating the book in the light of its
purpose and intent. A reviewer cannot, or should not, critic-
ize fiction in terms of truth and consistency as it applies to
knowledge and facts.
There are two ways to evaluate a book. There is the in-
trinsic evaluation that looks at the book apart from any other
book and judges it solely on its own merits and there is the
extrinsic evaluation that looks at the book in the light of other
books that fall into the same genre and category. Most re-
viewers use a combination of the two to form their opinions
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and write their reviews.

To review a book, begin by reading the book in its entire-
ty in order to grasp the unity of the work and to appreciate
what the author wants you to experience. Only then are you
ready to judge and evaluate. Remember, a valid evaluation is
not arbitrary, but based on reasonable criteria.
Some questions to ask when evaluating a work of fiction
are: (1) Does the work have unity? (2) Does it have complexi-
ty of elements and structure which unity embraces and orga-
nizes? (3) Does it stir emotions and fire imagination? (4) Does
it create a new world into which you are drawn and find your-
self reluctant to leave?
A good review is not easy to write. From a technical
viewpoint is very difficult. In a very short space and with very
few words, a reviewer conveys to his readers an accurate re-
presentation of a long and often complex novel and then gives
his or her personal responses. Those responses should include
analysis, interpretation and evaluation as well as personal
commentaries.
Just as a story is not just the sum of its happenings, a re-
view is not just a retelling of the plot. Just as a novel should be
more than a string of successive events, a review is more than
a summary statement of the book. A reviewer must be able,
in 500 to 1000 words, tell and show the quality and value of a
work of fiction.
Read the following short story then write a review.

The End of Summer

I was fourteen the year my parents rented a beach house
on Padre Island. Mamma, my sister Marissa and I spent the
summer there, walking along the sandy beaches, watching the
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tides come and go, soaking sun, and feeling the gulf breeze
blow across our sunburned faces. Daddy drove out from Cor-
pus Christi every weekend. How golden and tarnished is that
memory of the last summer of my childhood.
When I close my eyes, and will myself back to that place
in time, the first sight that floats across my mind is Mamma
walking along the sandy dunes laughing as Marissa and I chased
sea gulls or picked up shells to take back to our beach house.
Mamma had once been a passably pretty woman. By the time I
was fourteen and running down the sandy beaches of Padre
Island, that was no longer true. The Mamma I knew was short
and slightly obese with fly-away brown hair and pale green
eyes. Ordinary is the word that best described her. I know
now that looks can be deceiving.
Daddy, on the other hand, was still youthful and boyish at
thirty-eight. Tall and muscular, he moved with a grace that
belied his height and size. His hair, a honey shade of yellow,
was thick and curly. I thought he was the handsomest man I
had ever known, and the most intelligent. He was, quite
simply, my hero. I adored him.
The summer days went by in endless, idyllic succession.
The nights often found me restless. I can’t recall the first time
I stole from my narrow cot to wander along the sandy, moon-
bathed beach. I only know it was like stepping from an ordi-
nary world into an enchanted dream land. With sand pushing
up through my toes, I’d walk barefoot all the way to the pier
before stopping to look at the ocean. It was always rolling, ev-
er moving, with the tide endlessly coming in and going out,
then coming in again, like the vanishing days and lingering
nights of that gilded summer.
The months passed in a golden haze. Marissa and I grew
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brown from spending so much time in the sun. Mamma made

friends with George and Gloria Morris who had rented a
beach house next to ours. She spent a lot of time with them,
laughing, joking, and talking about the good old days.
Summer began to fade. August, hot and humid, was
drawing to a close. Soon we would pack our clothes, along
with our hoard of shells, our driftwood and our memories,
and head back to Corpus. Marissa and I began to look forward
to fall, new text books, school, and old friends. Daddy said
he’d be glad to have his family home again. Only Mamma
seemed reluctant to say good bye to our island paradise.
The last night of our stay in the little beach house, I de-
cided to say my private farewell to the island. Slipping from
my bed, I sneaked out the door and walked down the beach
toward the pier. The breeze was soft and caressing. A crescent
moon hung like a tilted canoe over the gulf. As I stood on the
pier looking out across the vast expanse of ocean, I heard
voices and muffled laughter coming from the pilings beneath.
Lying on my stomach, I bent my head over the edge and
looked down.
“George, you’re a naughty boy. Stop that.” That voice
had an all too familiar ring. Mamma!
“Don’t tease me, Alma. We don’t have much time. After
tomorrow, I may never see you again.” George Morris’s pas-
sionate words accosted my unbelieving ears.
What my ears heard couldn’t compare to what my eyes
beheld! My ordinary and quite naked mother was in the inti-
mate embrace of George Morris. Jumping to my feet, I began
to run. I didn’t stop until I reached the beach house and the
safety of my own bed.
What would Daddy say when he knew? What would he
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do? Like a bolt of forked lightening it hit me. He would leave

Mamma and Marissa and me. I mustn’t tell. I couldn’t tell,
and I didn’t.
Is it chance or choice that decides a destiny? I do not
know. I only know that to this day the knowledge of that
clandestine meeting has remained my guilty secret and my
personal torment.
So ended the swift, beautiful summer of my childhood.
When I think back over that lost idyll, I begin by remember-
ing the beginning of summer, golden days and laughter, and
Mamma. In the end all I recall is summer’s demise, the pier,
Mamma and that last goodbye to the shattered illusions of
youth and summer.

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Chapter 16

Overview of Chapter 16

Abstract: The writer works alone, following his or her

own agenda and creating his or her own schedule. The nature
of the work and the isolation of the worker make it necessary
for a writer to be in command of many skills other than those
pursuant to good writing. One of the most important of those
skills is the ability to manage time wisely. This lesson ad-
dresses managing time wisely by teaching methods of flexible
scheduling and offering techniques for dealing with time was-
ters.
Purpose: The purpose of this lesson is to help writers ac-
quire the knowledge and skills necessary for managing time
wisely.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to aid participants is man-
aging time wisely by learning to waste less of it.

Managing Time Wisely

Writing is not a cut-and-dried, follow-these-rules, step-
by-step procedure. Even as a writer writes, he or she is antic-
ipating, contemplating, and revising. Writing is also a lonely
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pursuit. The writer works alone, following his or her own

agenda and creating his or her own schedule. The nature of
the work and the isolation of the worker make it necessary for
a writer to be in command of many skills other than just those
pursuant to good writing. One of the most important of those
skills is the ability to manage time wisely for time is one of
our most valuable resources and once it has vanished, it can
never be called back.
It is unfortunate that most of the rules of time manage-
ment are contradictory to human nature in general and the
writer’s temperament in particular. How can creativity be
tied to routine? Contrary to what many believe, creativity can
be enhanced and stimulated by learning to manage time and
establishing a balanced life.
One complaint of those who contemplate working from a
schedule for the first time is I wouldn’t know where to start.
It’s to your advantage to take the time and figure out where to
start.
Another objection is that setting time limits puts me un-
der stress. The opposite is true. Learning to manage time
wisely can reduce stress and relieve pressure.
A third criticism is that being on a schedule takes all the
fun out of life. Welcome to the real world. A writer’s life is
not all dancin’ on the bar and shootin’ out the lights.
We all relate to time in different ways. Historians record
time, idlers kill time, and musicians keep time, the lonely
mark time, prisoners serve time. No matter how we regard
that old tyrant the fact remains that all of us are allotted the
same 24 hours in each day.
So, if you say to me: “I don’t have time to write,” my re-
ply is: “You have all the time you’re ever going to get, which
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is 1440 minutes that come with every 24-hour day. Maybe

what you need is a more practical approach to manage the
time you have.”
Improving time management begins with evaluating your
present use of time.
And I don’t mean just the time you spend writing. Con-
sider every aspect of your life: professional, family, and per-
sonal. This panoramic view will assist in setting goals and
priorities that are realistic and balanced.
Beginning on a Monday morning, for a week keep a
record of how you spend your time. Make a chart for each
hour of each day. Log your time and activities. At the end of
that week, sit down and study the results. Make notes of time-
wasting activities. Designate tasks and projects to which you
would like to allot more time.
Think of your time as a bank account with limited re-
sources. For a writer that shouldn’t be difficult. Make a 24
hour time budget for your day. This will be time consuming,
but it will ultimately allow you more time to pursue creative
projects by making it easier for you to cope.
Design a daily schedule sheet that fits your specific needs.
This will help you plan you days more carefully. Reserve your
most productive time for your writing. It is wise to look at
your week the same way. Then consider your routine as a way
to control a flexible-within-limits-schedule.
As you plan, try to strike a happy medium. Have more
than one project, but don’t overload yourself by having too
many irons in the fire. This kind of planning puts you in con-
trol of your time and subsequently you will have more control
over your life.
Extend your thinking and your planning by making some
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long term goals for each of your projects. A goal must be

reachable, explicit, and able to be gauged. A goal should be
stated in terms of behaviors that are observable. It must also
have a deadline. A goal should be flexible but demanding. Ex-
ample: My goal for my writing project is to complete a rough
draft of my historical novel within a year of my starting date.
Goals should be considered in terms of priorities. Link
your long term goals to short-term objectives. Goals and ob-
jectives are not the same. Objectives are targets designed to
reach a specific goal. Objectives are set in short time frames.
My objectives for completing the goal of writing the first draft
of a historical novel in a year are: Do the necessary research,
make an outline and then write at least 2000 words four days
of each week.
After objectives are put in some order, they can be bro-
ken down into smaller, more manageable objectives. Exam-
ples: I will work two to three days each afternoon, four days a
week until my basic research is complete. Projected time for
completion is two to three weeks. When my basic research is
completed, I will work on my outline two and one half to
three hours each morning four mornings of each week. Pro-
jected time for completion is one or two weeks. After these
projects are done, I can move to short term objectives for
writing my novel. To be effective both goals and objectives
require a flexible time frame and a predetermined end results.
Try to schedule so that you spend short increments of
time writing. Spending twelve hours on an article a day before
a deadline adds strain to your physical and mental well-being
and usually results in a product that is less than your best.
Beware of busy work. When a demand is made on your time,
evaluate it in the light of goals and objectives you have set.
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Be jealous of your time. Don’t make the mistake of let-

ting someone else steal it from you. Learn to deal with time
wasters in an effective yet inoffensive way.
Some of the time wasters I find ever present are tele-
phone interruptions, drop-in visitors, and uncompleted tasks
from the day before, the inability to say no, and lack of self-
discipline. Here are some ways I have learned to deal with
these time-stealing demons:
I now have a voice mail system. From 7 am until 11 am, I
don’t answer my phone. A long extension enables me to take
the pesky instrument to another room during those hours.
I have made it know that a certain part of your day is de-
voted to writing. A few seasons back the World Romance
Writers Board sent me a card board door knob hanger that
reads: Writer at Work. Do Not Disturb. I have found it an invalu-
able device. Over time, family and friends have learned when
my sign is out, I’m unavailable.
What can I do about uncompleted tasks from the day be-
fore? The answer to this problem was, for me, better planning
and less procrastination. I have also improved my ability to es-
timate both tasks and time.
It has always been difficult for me to say no. I always feel
I need some excuse when I don’t say yes. I don’t, and neither
do you. My stock answer now is: “I’m sorry but I have to say
no this time.”
Lack of self discipline can be aggravated by poor health or
fatigue. If either of these is a problem for you, review your
eating habits and then set about to improve them. Get some
extra sleep. Take a weekend off.
Some people might view these actions as selfish; I see
them as taking charge of my life.
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Build in some positive reinforcements. Keep goals and

objectives visible. When you succeed in accomplishing a long
term objective or a goal, reward yourself.

Some further hints for managing time wisely

Have a place for everything and put things back in their
place when you finish with them.
Have a time for everything. It’s as important as having a
place for everything.
Your desk is an important part of your work environ-
ment. Take charge of it and you take charge of your time. Be
ruthless about discarding what does not support you.
Devise a workable file system for what does.
Make a schedule. Begin by deciding what is important to
you. Then decide what trade-offs make good sense in your
situation. Set priorities, make realistic time estimates, and de-
velop a system for handling unexpected interruptions. With-
out some guidelines it is easy to let time slip away. But don’t
be a slave to that schedule. It’s to guide and help you, not to
constrain and deter you.
Make allowances in your schedule for crises and emer-
gencies that arise and learn to distinguish between the two.
When the best laid plans go awry, or important tasks fail to
get done, meet and deal with each interruption as it arises.
Learn your personal energy cycle and plan your schedule
accordingly. I do my best creative writing early in the morn-
ing. I reserve that part of my day for my creative writing. I
can attend to such mundane tasks as research, editing, answer-
ing mail and writing factual articles another time during the
day.
The creative process requires time for proper develop-
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ment so it’s important to make time in your schedule for

some time to relax and break away from your routine.
Evaluate and learn from your day at its close, then make
tentative plans for tomorrow. It is better to look ahead and
plan than it is to look backward and wish.
Make a note of it! Write down those ideas for change and
those things you think you’ll remember. The most illegible
note is better than the most indelible memory.
Beware of busy work. Just because you’re in motion,
doesn’t mean you’re being productive. Productivity is meas-
ured by results.
Remember that faster doesn’t always mean better.
Don’t procrastinate; finish what you start. If it’s a long
term project, set short term goals and objectives to give you
some sense of stability and accomplishment along the way. A
procrastinator never knows the joy of leisure time.
Learn, as much as possible, to live in the present. Regrets
over past mistakes and anxieties over an unsure future
squander valuable work time and decrease productivity.
Avoid stress and tensions that come from anxiety, over-
work, and improper diet. Take time to take care of yourself.
Learn to say no gracefully. Learn to master changing technol-
ogy. Be open to new ideas and information. Take each day as
it comes. Appreciate and acknowledge those around you.
Mastering these few rules and skills will help you face the fu-
ture with confidence, maintain a healthy lifestyle and handle
changes with grace and ease. It will also improve your writing
by helping you to save time by wasting less of it.

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Chapter 17

Overview of Chapter 17

Abstract: It is not only students and beginning writers

who suffer from writer anxiety. Sooner or later almost all
writers are plagued by writer’s block. Like allergies and the
common cold, it can be persistent, contagious and recurring.
This lesson looks at the three basic causes of writer’s block,
and then offers ways to alleviate symptoms, and initiate cures.
Purpose: The purpose of this lesson is to help writers
recognize and cope with the countless starts and stops, revi-
sions and rewrites that accompany writer’s block.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to help writers recognize
and deal with the causes and symptoms of writer’s block.

Writer’s Block: Symptoms, Causes, and Cures

It has been said that there is no such thing as writer’s
block if your standards are low enough. Unfortunately, or
maybe fortunately, most writers are perfectionists and this
malady strikes them at one time or another. When it does, it
can complicate an already involved and intricate procedure.
Writing fiction is a process in which an individual must
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overcome not only the difficulties of plotting and structuring

but also the obstacles of staying on task long enough to set
down in writing ideas, characters, actions and events. It is not
only students and beginning writers who suffer from writer
anxiety. The person who seems to write with such ease has
probably suffered through countless starts and stops, revisions
and rewrites. Sooner or later almost all writers are plagued by
writer’s block. Like allergies and the common cold, it can be
persistent, contagious, and recurring.
A block can come at any time and for more reasons than
can be counted. Although it can be aggravating, if faced and
dealt with, it is seldom serious and never fatal. Even when no
cure seems to work, it usually goes away by itself after a few
days, or at the most, a few weeks.
When faced with writer’s block, remember two things.
Each individual must work hard to produce a good piece of
writing. No work of fiction ever reaches absolute perfection.
Having settled these two issues the writer can move on to-
ward working past his or her present dilemma.
Writer’s block is a blanket term that covers a variety of
conditions. More often than not it is caused by something oth-
er than writing. The problem can be psychological, emotion-
al, or physical.
The most common blocks are those psychological hin-
drances that plague all of us. The sudden need to call a friend;
the urge to dust the living room or wash the car, the impulse
to raid the refrigerator, anything to postpone sitting down and
staring a blank page when your mind seems to be in the same
blank state.
Another cause for writer’s block is emotional stress. If
the inability to concentrate is because of a personal problem
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the solution is to solve the particular problem that is impeding

your writing progress. The alternative is to accept the situa-
tion and try to work around it. For example, if you’re upset
because of marital or family problems, the inability to write
may be a result of your agitated state. Your choices are to
solve the dilemma, or to accept the block until your emotion-
al problem is resolved.
Maybe the block is brought on, not by some particular
emotional trauma, but by a general feeling of weariness and
defeat. In this case the answer may be to stop pushing yourself
so hard. Is it possible that you are expecting too much of
yourself?
The cause for writer’s block can also be physical. Ill
health, lack of sleep, overwork, poor diet, inadequate condi-
tions for writing, hindrances such as poor lighting or ventila-
tion, too little room or too much noise— All these can bring
about writer’s block.
The block can be caused by a particular piece of work
with which you are struggling. Have you hit a brick wall or
written yourself into a corner?
There is no generic prescription for curing writer’s
block. What works for one person may not be the answer for
another. There are some general remedies and treatments that
can be tested and tried.
Psychological writer’s block is usually experienced by be-
ginning writers at the onset of writing. It is often produced by
being overwhelmed by rigid, and sometimes seemingly con-
flicting, grammatical and structural rules. Trying to adhere to
too many confusing edicts can result in inappropriate or rigid
planning. The beginning writer should remember that rules are not
set in stone. Even usage rules evolve and change over time. Don’t
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make the mistake of trying to turn rules into absolutes.

Another psychological block that plagues writers is lack of
direction. This is usually a result of not understanding the
writing process or a fear of losing spontaneity by adhering to a
set procedure. The approach to writing should be tentative
and adjustable. A writer is freer to take this approach if he or
she understands that the writing process is not concrete and
intractable but flexible, pliant and recursive. The writer is
never a slave to the process. The process is designed to be the
writer’s servant, not his or her master.
Emotional writer’s block is usually experienced by more
seasoned writers in the middle of a long project. Blocks and
dead ends can result from the sheer magnitude of the task.
The writer may be seized by inhibitions and frustrations
brought on by fear of failure. A seasoned writer is often fear-
ful that his or her current project will fail to ‘measure up’ to
prior works.
Writer’s block that is brought on by physical conditions is
often difficult to pinpoint. Illness, loss, lack of sleep, worry,
and being pressed for time are some examples of physical
conditions that can result in writer’s block.
Writing, like any skill, requires practice. When writer’s
block strikes, try to realize that your work will be far from
what you desire it to be after the first writing. The important
thing is to keep writing. If you don’t feel you can continue
with your project, try keeping a journal or daily log. Not only
do you store and record thoughts and ideas, you continue to
exercise your writing hand, as well as your brain.
Keep calm and after a day or so go back to your project
and try to write something, a paragraph or two, no matter
how inept or vague it seems, then read aloud what you’ve
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written. Place a prompt such as asterisks in the margin to re-

mind yourself that this section needs to be revised, fine tuned,
or redone later.
Try talking yourself through a troublesome section.
Sometimes speaking aloud can tap into oral fluency.
After a short period of working, take a break, relax,
watch TV, or listen to music. It helps me to read poetry.
If the block occurs near the middle of a long work of fic-
tion, try looking at your novel from as many points of view as
possible.
Consider first the complexities and intricacies of your
plot. Go back and look at the first paragraph, the first sen-
tence. Did you promise too much or too little? Is there a
hook? Is the conflict in your story well developed? Maybe you
should consider adding a new twist or turn. Check interac-
tions between characters. Redefine motives, rethink reasons
for actions. Consider ways to make the hero’s or the heroine’s
plight more unbearable or mysterious. Try rewriting vague
points and indistinct passages. This may help to define mean-
ing and create believability, thus opening up new possibilities
to explore and pursue. Tinker with the structure of the plot
by reviewing a variety of orders such as chronological, moving
back and forth between the past and present, using flashbacks,
and entering the story on the verge of some important event.
Consider the limitations, constraints and possibilities of
your setting. Look at problematic areas. Does the setting help
to create atmosphere and reveal characters’ moods? Try to
find ways to vividly present important details to create an ar-
tistic illusion of reality. Go back and insert salient incidents and de-
tails to create a motif or continuing image. Incorporate environ-
mental influences to better define characters and motives.
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Re-examine the characters in your story. Are they believ-

able and consistent in their actions? Do they have depth? Are
they flawed and human? Do they grow and change as the plot
progresses?
One way to assess your characters is to interview them.
Ask pertinent and persistent questions. This may help you to
focus on troubled areas.
Does the story offer some insight into human experience?
Pull all your thoughts into a cohesive whole. Then review
your work again. This time try adding more action and drama
to your story. Experiment a little; be a little daring. Re ex-
amine how you are telling your story. Tighten to create ten-
sion. Remember when tension goes out of a story it sags like a
broken spring.
Review descriptions. Can they be made more vivid and
appealing? Should they be shortened?
Too much figurative language can make a story vague;
too much concrete language can make it dull.
Try linking various element of your story together. What
is your promise? Does your plot keep that promise? Is
progress fast and interesting? Are there more possibilities than
you have pursued? Will the ending be complete and satisfying
and still seem realistic and honest?
Skip forward to some future point in your novel and be-
gin to write. Try this time to be a little more honest when you
are writing about your own emotions and feelings. Above all
else a fiction writer must know and care for the truth, both
actual and imagined.
Some other ways to confront writer’s block are: Jot
down notes during the day as they come to you. Use a tape
recorder to record spontaneous ideas and thoughts. When you
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begin to revise your work, forget about spelling, grammar,

and punctuation during revision time. You can polish and cor-
rect later. For the present, let your ideas and your creativity
flow. Remember, writing is a process, a messy, troublesome,
often overlapping process, but a process nonetheless.
You might try using expressive writing for discovery and
exploration. Some kinds of expressive writing are free writ-
ing; this encourages the flow of ideas. Brainstorming which is
writing down, for the space of five or ten minutes, everything
that comes to mind about a subject. Making an idea tree; let
your main ideas be the branches and related details the twigs.
These should go along way toward giving you confidence and
momentum.
The two chief sources of strength for a writer are obser-
vation and imagination. Try some exercises to sharpen both of
these by eliciting other opinions and ideas. This will stimulate
your creativity and help you view your work from other pers-
pectives. You might want to talk about your ideas for change
and revision with a critique partner or close friend, or even
with a group. Read aloud from the troubled area of your
project. Have others read aloud to you.
Some questions to consider now are have I been too lazy
to go back over my project again? Am I too much in love with
my own words to edit sufficiently? Have I said exactly what I
want my readers to know? Have I overlooked some important
thought, emotion or idea? Are my character’s actions steady
and consistent?
Last but not least, it might be a good idea to discuss pre-
ventative measures: Here are some suggestions: Make writing
and reading a daily habit. Have more than one project going at
one time. Remind yourself that you have nothing to lose by
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writing. You can always revise, delete, or as a last resort,

throw out the whole thing and start again. Try to keep well
ahead of deadlines. End each writing session just short of what
is in your mind to write.
Often a writer hugs his infant work to him and doesn’t
want it to grow up. You may have to break your work in or-
der to remake it. You become a better writer the same way
you become better at any challenging and rewarding task -
through practice and by trial and error and by liberating your
characters and letting them mature and grow.
Writing requires commitment and hard work. You can
learn invaluable lessons about your own way of managing the
writing process if you accept the fact that writing always re-
quires rewriting and revision. Look on writer’s block as a way
to discover how to expand the number of writing processes
you use and to learn the special skills you need to master those
processes.

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Chapter 18

Overview of Chapter 18

Abstract: Writing is the most personal and complex form

of thinking and communicating. Why would any individual
choose to share this complex, unpredictable, demanding activ-
ity with someone else? The answer is simple: The conviction
that a combined effort can produce a body of work infinitely
superior to what that individual can create alone.
Purpose: To offer writers the opportunity to experience
the pleasures, problems and pitfalls of team writing.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to aid each participant in
determining if he/she is a candidate for team writing.

Writing in Tandem—Exploring Team Writing

Writing is the most personal and complex form of think-
ing and communicating. Writing requires abstract reasoning,
an increased level of maturity, and a great deal of self discip-
line. It necessitates the exploration of feelings, values, emo-
tions and ideas. It is not a cut-and-dried, follow-these-rules,
step-by-step procedure. A writer, even as he or she writes, is
also tinkering, reforming, stopping, anticipating, contemplat-
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ing, and revising, revising, revising… Why would any sane

individual choose to share this complex, unpredictable, de-
manding activity with someone else? The answer is simple:
The conviction that a combined effort can produce a body of
work infinitely superior to what that individual can create
alone.
Collaborative writing is even more complex and demand-
ing than writing solo because it involves the sharing of though-
ts and beliefs and the merging of intimate feelings and person-
al views. Not all writers are suited to this task. Test your
CQ—Collaborative Quotient by answering true of false to
each of the following questions.

1. You can compromise about almost anything.

2. Our best ideas sometimes come from others.
3. When discussing differences, you must appreciate the
other person’s situation as well as your own.
4. You should never allow yourself to be coerced or in-
timidated when resolving differences.
5. Compromise is more beneficial if both parties com-
prehend the circumstances.
6. Information, capability and readiness to take risks are
significant tools in reaching compromises.
7. Open-mindedness, understanding, and persuasiveness
are critical components in resolving differences.
8. Sometimes winning at all costs is losing.
9. Compromise can be a win-win situation.
10. Disagreements don’t have to be negative.
11. A person willing to arbitrate should not be critical of
the ideas and judgments of others.
12. Sometimes it’s easier to say no than to find a resolu-
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tion to your differences.

If you answered yes to at least nine of the above ques-
tions, you are a prime candidate for collaborative writing. If
you answered yes to at least six of the above questions, you
should be able to handle having a writing partner very well. If
you answered yes to only four of the above questions, you
might want to think twice before deciding to write with a
partner. If you answered yes to less than four, forget it.
You’re not suited for team writing. Would-be collaborators
must find some common ground for agreement and accord.
To collaborate successfully both participants must be willing
to bargain and compromise.
Before the writing begins, prospective partners should
consider how to handles some major complexities. Writing
solo stirs feelings and passions. Team writing brings the added
burden of coping with a partner’s feelings and passions also. In
team writing one must not only define and refine his/her own
values, but must also discover and accept a partner’s values.
Writing draws on associations, dreams, mental images, visions
and fantasies. When writing partners began to explore these
volatile areas, it sometimes results in emotional clashes. What
is significant to one person can be a piddling triviality to
another. Writing partners are often forced to redirect vision
and observe from a different angle.
When two writers agree to become partners, even at the
pre-writing stage, they should be prepared to deal with prob-
lems such as one partner wants to tinker with the plot. The
other agrees that revision is needful but feels his/her partner
is approaching the modification process with the antiquated
tools or unorthodox methods.
Partners agree to reform or recast a major character.
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They disagree on direction. What seems progress to one is for

the other, regression. Your partner is anticipating what? Re-
member, no two people have the same set of expectations.
Partners look back and begin to contemplate... Be care-
ful. Often contemplating can disintegrate into complaining
and it is always best, when possible to work out major prob-
lems and differences before the actual writing begins.
Expect problems and be ready to deal with them by using
the following guidelines to help work through the rough
spots.
Apply active listening. Hear what your partner has to say
without anticipating what is to come. Don’t interrupt and
don’t complete or correct what your partner has to say.
Consider your partner’s opposition objectively. Under-
standing comes through empathy and perception.
Don’t erect barriers or build walls. You can disagree
without being disagreeable.
Adopt a step-by-step approach. Break the problems down
into smaller increments. Look for areas of agreement and
maximize those points. Don’t feel you must have a precise yes
or no answer to the entire problem.
There may be an alternative solution. If not, compromise
until you come to some agreement. Remember, you are look-
ing for a solution, not trying to prove a point.
Don’t leave the problem unsolved. Talk it out. Only
then are you ready to move along with your project.
Writing requires completeness and attention to detail
that is absent from any other form of communication. When
two writers begin the process of merging thoughts and words,
it can result, instead, in a collision.
Some points to consider before even beginning to write
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are: (1) choice of words and phrases. Each writer will have his
or her own individual style. Blending and merging two dis-
tinct writing styles can be problematic. (2) Sentence struc-
ture: This involves rhythm as well as meaning and can be
cause for controversy. (3) The effective use of words as a sto-
ry telling device; how a story is told may be as important as
the story line itself.
The first big step for collaborative writers is to move
from sharing, which is to contribute what is right and proper
in this common effort, to combining, which is the ability to
bring together the two efforts into a united whole.
When the points of view and the intimate thoughts of
two individuals merge, the ideas generated are subject to dis-
pute and conflict. Baring passions and hopes that have thus far
been too private to speak aloud, results in a frightening vulne-
rability, that can, if not handled properly, destroy a budding
partnership.
So you have determined that both you and your partner
possess the ability and talent for writing in tandem. What else
is required to successfully collaborate in writing fiction? By
working with your partner through the following ten-step ex-
ercise, you will begin to get a feel for the problems, frustra-
tions, joys and rewards of collaborative writing.
Step One—In collaboration with your partner, create a
scene between two fictional characters.
Step Two—Decide, between the two of you, why your
characters acted and reacted as they did.
Step Three—With your partner, write a brief history of
the two characters you have created.
Step Four—Add physical characteristics to each of your
characters. Don’t be surprised if this becomes a bone of con-
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tention. In visualizing physical features of a character, percep-

tions can vary greatly.
Step Five—Write a short background for your charac-
ters.
Step Six—Using this short background begin to structure
your plot. Sketch the broad scene first, then go back and fill in
the details
Step Seven—Setting should emerge as the plot develops.
Create a sense of time and place by inference as well by overt
statements. Try to capture through setting, the mood and at-
mosphere you wish to convey in your story.
Step Eight—Write dialogue for your characters, or if you
already have dialogue, review and rewrite.
Step Nine—If research must be done, decide which part-
ner will file and store research. If you and your partner were
confronted with that decision now, who would get the job,
and why? How would you decide, and what extra task would
the other partner take on to compensate for this added chore?
Step Ten—Pull all the elements of your story together,
and as you do so, try to create a sense of drama. Under ordi-
nary circumstances, this process could take days, even weeks.
Find ways to telescope time so the story doesn’t drag,
Work together to create dramatic movement from one im-
mediate scene to another. Use scenery, sounds, and natural
phenomena to enhance your story telling. Use symbols, im-
agery, and metaphoric language for heightened dramatic ef-
fects. Use sensory terms to give your reader a glimpse into the
minds of your characters.
By now you should have some feel for what it’s like to write
with a partner. You also know, if you didn’t before, that a perfect
partnership, like a perfect marriage, does not exist; however, there
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are ways to lessen tension and overcome problems.

Compatibility and an accepting environment are the pre-
requisites for a workable partnership. Now is the time to lay
down some ground rules that can help create and maintain
such an atmosphere.
Collaboration has two meanings. The first meaning is to
work together. Partners may not always be working at the
same time or even on the same project but they should always
feel a spirit of cooperation and share the same goals. The
second meaning for collaboration is cooperating with the
enemy. This meaning carries the connotation of conspiracy or
collusion. In the purest sense of the word there is some collu-
sion involved in collaborative writing. It’s a joint scheme to
persuade the reader.
A permanent collaborative venture is a business partner-
ship. Each party will share duties and reap benefits from the
alliance. In the beginning it is wise to lay down some ground
rules. Who is in this partnership? Just two; there is no place in
a collaborative writing partnership for a third party. What will
you write? Will it be fiction, articles, novels? As unlikely as it
seems, this can sometimes be grounds for a major dispute.
When will you write? Set a definite time to work together.
Where will you write? Have a specific place to work, prefera-
bly one that is free from intrusions and commotions. Why
will you write? This may seem a trivial question, but without
a valid reason to write it is doubtful you will stick to it, either
collectively or individually.
Who’s in control? This is seldom a major problem.
Somewhere along the way every writer recognizes that no in-
dividual is always in control of what he or she is composing.
To paraphrase Emily Bronte, the writer who possesses the
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creative gift owns something over which he or she is not al-

ways master—something that at times wills and works for it-
self. Collaborative writing requires no more than recognition
of this fact.
Disagreements can be one of the pluses of having a writ-
ing partner. Properly handled, most disagreements make for a
better story. A little turmoil and strife can enhance the tale
and create more complex and interesting characters. Long
works of fiction are like ubiquitous weeds, they thrive best
when threatened with eradication and extinction.
Arguments and disagreements go with the territory;
however, there ways to avoid some disagreement. No guaran-
tees, but it helps to set aside a certain time to make major de-
cisions, to avoid making hasty or ill advised decisions, and to
realize you can never hope to absolve all disagreements.
Sometimes opposite is good. If partners have shared intel-
lectual interests, a difference is temperament can be an asset.
One writer may be sensible and realistic. The other may op-
erate on hunches and instinct, but if you have been able to es-
tablish a new partnership, think of it as the first step f a many
thousand mile journey. You have learned to draw wide para-
meters and agree in general on many subjects.
Now is the time to decide on particular assignments and
embark on an adventurous experience.

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Chapter 19

Overview of Chapter 19

Abstract: It has been estimated that the average adult

spends up to 29.5% of his or her waking hours listening.
Many people assume that hearing and listening are the same.
They are not. This lesson differentiates between the hearing
process and the listening process then defines levels of listen-
ing skills and offers suggestions for improving listening ability.
Purpose: The purpose of this lesson is to improve the
ability to communicate by providing guidance for isolating lis-
tening problems and giving instructions for improving listen-
ing skills.
Goal: The goal of this lesson is to help participants under-
stand the essential role listening plays in effective writing.

Hearing and Listening

“Are you listening?”
“Yes I hear you.”
“You don’t know a thing I said!”
“All the same, I hear you.”
Does the above conversation sound like a contradiction?
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It isn’t. Listening and hearing are not the same. Most of us

possess the gift of hearing. Unfortunately, too few of us have
developed that gift into the fine art of really listening. We tend
to hear the first few words a speaker utters and then if we’re
interested, move our focus toward thinking of what our an-
swer will be. If out interest isn’t sparked, our minds drift to-
ward other things and we ‘tune out’ the speaker.
Hearing is a physiological process that involves the recep-
tion of messages through sensory channels. Listening is the
cognitive process of decoding the information we receive. The
ability to listen effectively is a powerful weapon in any writ-
er’s arsenal, for writers, above all else, should be able to re-
member, retain and record effectively. It is also a tool every
writer can possess, for listening is a skill that can be easily
learned, improved through practice, and productively put to
use.
We listen on several different levels daily. We listen to
small talk from friends and acquaintances. We listen, although
often reluctantly, to persons releasing feelings, reviewing
problems or venting frustrations. We listen to salesmen and
politicians and we listen to gain or share information. Even
though we don’t recognize it, in each situation we are apt to
use a different listening approach. (Lyman K. Steil, Larry L.
Barker and Kittie W. Watson. Effective Listening Key to Your
Success, 1983.)
The most basic level of listening is the discrimination lev-
el. The hearer listens to auditory and visual stimuli and hears
the sounds and the words, but fails to comprehend either the
meaning or the intent of the message.
The second level of listening is the comprehension level.
At this level the listener listens and retains information, but
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fails to grasp the speaker’s purpose or intent.

The third level of listening is the technical level. Technic-
al listening requires the listener to act as a sounding board so
the speaker can talk through problems and reach a solution.
This level of listening uses many of the techniques applied by
counselors and therapists.
The fourth level of listening is the critical level. At this
level the listener comprehends and evaluates the message and
the speaker’s intent and then decides whether to accept or re-
ject its contents.
The highest level of listening is the appreciation level in
which the listener engages in listening for the sheer enjoyment
of the sensory stimulation of the message. This is the level all
writers should strive to attain, for it is important for good
writers to understand another person’s purpose for speaking
and point of view and then to organize and categorize that in-
formation along with the speaker’s inferred thoughts and
ideas.
A common impediment to good listening is faking atten-
tion. My years as a classroom teacher have taught me that
public school systems are notorious for teaching children ways
to fake attention. Sit up, look interested, and everyone will
think you are getting the message because everyone knows
that a good listener appears to be giving the speaker his or her
undivided attention. Nothing could be further from the truth.
A good listener does much more than just appears to be
attentive. A good listener listens accurately. Accurate listen-
ing requires more than attention. It also demands concentra-
tion. A wandering mind is the greatest enemy of accurate lis-
tening. Arguably the greatest barrier to accurate listening is
becoming distracted. Distractions are usually brought on by a
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combination of external and internal issues. The appointment

you are headed for, the noise across the hall, the television
program you saw last night, the persistent ticking of a clock
can all contribute to becoming distracted.
A good listener not only listens accurately, he or she also
listens critically and then weighs the evidence presented. Crit-
ical listening involves the ability to categorize then make dis-
tinctions. To listen accurately, you must pay attention not on-
ly to what the speaker says but also to non verbal signals given
during the talk to indicate main points.
A good listener must be able to evaluate arguments and
materials presented, and then weigh that evidence in order to
distinguish fact from opinion, tell the difference between reli-
able and unreliable sources, recognize faulty from fair genera-
lizations, differentiate proper from improper comparisons and
analogies, and identify and not be swayed by unfair arguments
such as name calling, snob appeal and unproved allegations.
Listening is a complicated process. It involves hearing,
receiving, perceiving, attending, paraphrasing, assigning
meaning and responding. It requires effort and a certain
amount of ability. It also demands that you, the listener be
able to engage in critical thinking which is the process by
which you draw conclusions about the believability of a mes-
sage’s content and connect, and on some emotional level, to
understand the feelings, judgments and beliefs of the speaker.
( Dennis S. Gouran, William E. Wiethoff and Joel A. Doelg-
er. Mastering Communication. 2nd. ed. 1994.)
Reception is the initial step in receiving auditory stimuli.
Reception includes processing both auditory messages and
visual non-verbal messages. The human ear has the capacity to
distinguish approximately 340,000 different tones. Obviously
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hearing acuity is an important component of listening. Visual

acuity is important also. Barring physical defects, the human
eye has the exceptional ability to make up to five million dis-
criminations per second. Eye listening involves viewing the fa-
cial expressions, posture, and overall appearance of a speaker.
It has been estimated that up to ninety-three percent of a spo-
ken message is received through visual and non verbal cues.
Sensitivity to visual cues is an important part of receiving a
message.
Perception is the second step in listening. The listener’s
view of the world, his or her beliefs, and values, even his or
her physical condition, all affect perception. Perception is the
screen through which the received message is filtered. A
writer’s ability to perceive the attitudes and sentiments of
others is an asset not only in writing well, but in listening ac-
tively.
Attention is the third step in listening. Attention requires
concentration. Two factors that affect listener concentration
are interest level and complexity of the message. A boring
message or a message that contains difficult concepts and ab-
stract language may cause the listener’s attention to stray.
The process of assignment of meaning occurs once the lis-
tener has paid attention to the material being presented. As-
signing meaning is a complex procedure involving linguistic
and cognitive categories and responses. It is incumbent upon
the listener to interpret the speaker’s message in a manner
that approximates the intent of the speaker.
Once the message has been assigned meaning, it elicits
from the listener a response. The assignments made will be
governed in large measure by that listener’s background, edu-
cational level and emotional maturity.
183
 A Core Curriculum

It then becomes the responsibility of the listener to de-

termine the credibility of what he or she hears. To do this the
listener must engage in critical thinking. Some questions to
ask about any message are is the message believable? Is the
message credible? Is the source for the message reputable?
And can the data in the message be validated? But as writers
we should not be just recorders of information and builders of
a knowledge structure. We should also observe, evaluate and
catalog actions and reactions of the speaker, and make infe-
rences about his or her feelings, beliefs and attitude.
Evaluate your listening habits by answering, frequently,
sometimes, or occasionally to each of the questions below.

1. I give the appearance of listening but my mind is

somewhere else.
2. I talk more than I listen.
3. I listen only to the parts of a conversation or speech
that interest me.
4. When a topic arises that I don’t want to cope with, I
don’t listen.
5. I listen mainly for points with which I can disagree.
6. I miss nonverbal clues and body language cues.
If you answered occasionally to at least four of the ques-
tions above, you are a good listener. If you answered some-
times to at least four of the questions above, you are a fair lis-
tener. If you answered frequently to more than four of the
questions above, you’re listening skills need improving.
Our world is woefully lacking in good listeners. Maybe
that’s because most of us fail to understand that effective lis-
tening involves active commitment and genuine effort. It also
requires comprehension, retention, understanding, criticism,
184
 A Core Curriculum

evaluation and critical thinking. Fortunately, most writers

possess these abilities; they couldn’t be writers if they didn’t.
Most of us recognize the importance of opening the eyes
of our minds, our hearts and our souls to more clearly see and
discern even the small events and happenings that surround
us. Most of us concur with the idea that anything looked at
significantly can become significant. How few of us learn to
listen, really listen to the cadence, the tempo, the rhythm, the
beat of the voices and symphony of sounds that daily encircle
us.
The results of learning to listen effectively are well worth
the time and labor invested. Becoming an effective listener
pays off in terms of greater knowledge, increased self confi-
dence, better performance, decreased tension, and better use
of time. It can also open your world to wider vistas and chal-
lenge you in ways you never before imagined. Thus helping
you to become a more accurate, informed and interesting
writer.

185
 A Core Curriculum

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193
 ABOUT BARRI BRYAN

Barri Bryan is a published author with over twenty no-

vels, four books of poetry and numerous short stories to her
credit. She taught English in secondary schools for several
years, holds a graduated degree in educational psychology
from The University of Texas at San Antonio, and teacher cer-
tification in six teaching fields.
You are invited to visit Barri’s author website at:
http://www.barribryan.atfreeweb.com/
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