Humans are pattern matching creatures, swift to classify and categorise all elements of the world around us. This is both a great strength and terrible weakness.

As we grow up, we apply patterns and put everything in its rightful place. A chair is for sitting on. A plate is for eating from. A car is for driving.

Of course, in most cases this kind of assumption is necessary for every day life. If every time we came across a chair, we had to mentally go through all the possible ways we could use that arrangement of sticks, we would end up with very tired legs.

Children, inventors are McGuyver are examples of people that are able to think outside of the standard assumptions, and see alternate uses for every day things in order to play or solve a problem.

As authors, we need to constantly challenge these patterns and assumptions and find new and surprising ways to look at every day things in order to give our work originality. This comes in useful in everything from coming up with fresh ways to describe things, rather than resorting to hallowed clichés to coming up with a shocking plot twist that hasn’t been done a hundred times before.

An interesting way to start to break down these assumptions it to try to think about exactly when a thing becomes a thing. In doing this we can start to see that the world isn’t quite a concrete as we thought.

For example, we all know what a car is. And if you remove the roof, it’s a clearly still a car. But what if you remove the engine instead of the roof. Is it still a car now? It looks the same, assuming the bonnet is closed, but it doesn’t meet the main function of the car. What if it has the engine but no wheels or doors. At what point does it cease to be a car and become a chassis. Its’ not so easy to answer.

Similarly, if you watch a daffodil grow in the garden, at what point does it become a flower. At first it is just a green stalk. Then it starts to create a yellowish bulb and slowly the bulb unfurls, Can you pin down the exact moment it becomes a flower?

If you can encourage your brain to be more open to seeing things outside of their normal categories, you can train it to be more flexible and open to unusual ideas that can enrich your writing.

Try this writing exercise:

1.       Think of at least thirty different uses for the following things:

a.       A set of keys

b.      A cellar

c.       An iPad

d.      A wooden elephant

e.      An old tennis racquet

f.        A plank of wood

g.       A bottle of shampoo

h.      A candle

i.         A CD

j.        The Bible

Try not to be constrained by what you ‘know’ the main purpose of each of the items is. If you get stuck, try to think about different physical aspects of each of the items, including what it’s made of, its properties (strong, waterproof etc), its size and shape, conductivity, reactivity.

What you should find is that at first you will come up with obvious uses for the object, but as you are forced to think of more, your brain will work harder to become more flexible and open to unusual ideas.

For example:

A candle:

1.       A light

2.       For heating food

3.       For blocking up a hole

4.       For poking a mouse out of a hole

5.       For highlighting hidden text written in invisible ink

6.       For burning a forbidden letter

7.       For propping up a table

8.       For melting and using the wax in frisky foreplay

9.       As a time keeper

10.   Use the wick as string to tie something

11.   As a weapon

12.   To write messages on

13.   A chew or throw toy for a dog

14.   A rolling pin

15.   A signal that someone is home

16.   For sending morse code at night

17.   Use the wax to fill in scuffs in wood

18.   A drumstick

19.   To hold up a box trap

20.   To wedge open a door

21.   To weight down a helium balloon

22.   A pretend magic wand

23.   A stirring implement

24.   Carve it into a mini totem pole

25.   A spirit level (hold it by the wick)

26.   A bookmark

27.   To break up a blockage

28.   To measure the depth of oil or mud

29.   To tie a puppet to.

2.       To bring it a little closer to home, think of at least ten different endings as you can each of these tired premises:

1.       Girl meets boy – they hate each other

2.       Aliens attack planet earth

3.       There’s a bomb on the bus

4.       A bank heist

5.       A pirate adventure

For example:

Aliens attack planet earth

1.       Humans fight back and win

2.       Humans fight back and lose

3.       Aliens turn out to be an ancient generation of humans that fled earth into space and are now returning

4.       Aliens turn out to be victims of another alien race and join forces with humans to fight against the third race

5.       Humans domesticate the aliens

6.       Humans abandon earth and join the aliens

7.       Humans fight back then go and attack the aliens’ home planet

8.       Aliens integrate and interbreed with humans

9.       Aliens take humans as their slaves

10.   Aliens turn out to be humans from an alternate universe

Please post your lists in the comments below!

Credit to The Five Minute Writer by Margaret Geraghty for the inspiration for this post – if you liked it, you should buy the book.

For more articles about creative writing and novel writing, visit The Novel Factory website.

There appears to be a rather popular trend out there of people making trite little cards which start with ‘You know you’re a writer then…’ and then finishing with some pithy little statement which no doubt makes the kind of people who approve of such things titter in amusement, probably while coyly covering their giggles with a delicate hand.

Whenever I see these, I either want to cringe or vomit, but rarely bother responding, because we all know it’ll just end up in a reference to Nazis (was that some kind of pre-emptive Godwin’s law?).

However, I thought I’d take to the time to list a few of the biggest humdinders here, and explain while they’re such a pile of tripe (and I have a dog, so I know how stinky tripe is):

You know you’re a writer when…

…deleting whole paragraphs of your manuscript is the emotional equivalent of stabbing yourself in the chest repeatedly.

Quote the opposite. The less you have written, the more attached you are to each word, and the harder it is to cut the waffle. The less experienced you are, the better you think your writing is, and the more precious you are about it. Deleting a whole paragraph? Give me a break. You should be doing that to warm up. The sign of a seasoned writer is one who can cut an entire chapter, nay, half a book, and just shrug.

You know you’re a writer when…

…You absolutely can’t write anything down unless it’s with that pen,  no matter how good the idea is.

Clear sign of a non-writer, becoming obsessed with irrelevant details when there are far too many important things to remember, including: fleeting ideas, the exact colour and texture of the leaves that carpet the forest floor at the beginning of November, birthdays of an entire cast of characters, whether you’ve already mentioned the knife sheath pattern, time of day for each scene, character motivations, what makes a character stand out, twists etc. etc. etc. If you’ve got time to spend worrying about which pen to use, you probably don’t have the brainpower to write a novel.

What this is actually a sign of, is obsessive compulsive disorder, which – while possibly a common symptom of writers, does not actually signify one.

And why on earth would anybody be using a pen to write? This isn’t the middle ages.

You know you’re a writer when…

… you remember the backstory of all your characters, but you’ve yet to write down a single one.

The clues are all there in this one, if you think about it. What this person is, is a daydreamer. To be a writer, you have to write things down. It’s not rocket science.

So, now that I’ve laid into example of what a writer clearly is not, perhaps you’d like my view on how you really can tell if you’re a writer?

It’s very simple. You’re writing.

If you're really serious about becoming a writer, then you need to be in a writing group - no question, and no excuses.

Beginning writers are often nervous about joining a writing group, and yes, it can be daunting - but it's well worth the effort, for many reasons.

Firstly, once you've started showing your work to others, it will help build your confidence. The first time is the hardest, but the vast majority of writing groups are supportive, and you will be pleasantly surprised to hear the nice things they will say about your work. And if you take their comments for improvement on board and make a genuine effort to edit well, it will be even more encouraging when they see and point out how the quality of your writing is getting better over time.

As well as saying nice things, if they're worth their salt, they will also find the weak points in your work, and while praise is nice, constructive criticism is what's of real value - as this is going to make you into a better writer. A good critique group will highlight areas for improvement in your work in a sensitive manner.

There's no need to take criticism personally or feel that it's in any way putting you down. That is not the point at all. The purpose of criticism is to improve your skills, so a writing group will find areas for improvement in any piece of work - even if it's damn near perfect. Critique areas may be anything from grammar and punctuation to pace, balance, emotional impact, tense, dialogue, description - anything.

Having a fresh set of eyes read something is very useful to highlight areas that don't make sense that you, as the writer, will find it impossible to know, as you have the whole story in your head and know where it's going.

And of course, associating with skilled people who are also passionate about writing will give you the advantage that you can draw on their skills and knowledge.

So, if you've been making excuses for not joining a writing group - man up and get yourself down to one!

This idea is based on a technique described in Dwight Swain's amazing, fantastic book: Techniques of the selling writer, which is chock full of practical advice on writing selling fiction. We also owe a debt of gratitude to The Snowflake Guy, for bringing it to our attention...

Dedications out the way - let's get to it. So, what do we mean by the Action >> Reaction Cycle?

Well, when you write, you will usually have a mix of things that are happening around your protagonist (for the purpose of this article, we'll assume the protagonist is the point of view character in any given seen), and things that your protagonist is thinking and doing.

If you don't know any better, you will switch between these things randomly, putting down whatever 'feels' right. Many talented writers will naturally put things in the Action >> Reaction Cycle that I'm about to decscribe, but some of us benefit from learning the nuts and bolt of it in a more formal fashion.

Note - It should go without saying that any technique or tool that writers use, including the Action >> Reaction Cycle, are exactly that - techniques and tools. They are not laws. As a creative, you must decide for yourself when you will stick doggedly to these concepts and when you will deviate, because you know better. Just make sure you do know better.

The Action >> Reaction Cycle

Action

In one paragraph, you should have an outward description of the action. This should be completely detached from the characters point of view or opinion on the matter. FACT only. No bias based on the protagonist. This is easier said than done.

Reaction

Reaction can be split into three parts: Gut, Instinctive, Rational. Let's look at those in more detail.

Gut - this should be a visceral, bodily emotional response to the Action that's been observed. Something like a cold chill down the spine, a tightening of the throat or a twisting in the gut. It doesn't involve any movement or controlled thought.

Instinctive - This is still controlled by the body rather than the mind, but it will be more deliberate. It might be leaping back, or reaching for a gun. How useful this action is will depend on the character and how well they deal with the Action and their gut response to it.

Rational - Finally, now we've got through all the gut, instinctive stuff (which probably only took seconds, or less), we can get to the controlled part of things, where the character gets to express themselves. They may have a thought: "Not again. Oh no. Not again.", or they may carry out a controlled, deliberate action: "She raised the gun, aimed, and fired." Or both.

When you write, you should cycle your paragraphs between Action and Reaction. The Reaction paragraph does not have to include every part (gut, instinctive, rational) every time, in fact, it would get a bit weird if it did. But it should include at least one, and they should stay in the correct order.

An Example

We'll start with an example where it's done wrong, with all the elements mixed up and in the wrong order:


Lorelei hugged her legs remained fixed in place, control stolen from her body. So this was it. She was going end up just like all the others, she thought as she watched the figure at the other end of the beach walking towards her, slowly closing the distance. She felt gripped with a mixture of fear and desolation.

You may think that reads okay, or you may not. But either way, let's compare it to what happens if we rewrite it to follow the Action >> Reaction Cycle:

There was a figure at the other end of the beach, walking towards her.

Fear gripped Lorelei, stealing control of her body, so all she could do was remain fixed in place, still hugging her legs, watching helplessly as the figure closed the distance between them.  So this was it. She was going to end up just like the others.


In this example the first paragraph is only a single line, but it is an, external, indisputable fact. There's a figure, he's at the other end of the beach, he's walking towards her.


Next we have the Reaction, first the gut (fear gripping her), then the instinct (all she could do was remain fixed in place, watching helplessly, etc), and finally her rational thoughts about the matter (deciding she's about to meet her doom).

Hopefully you'll agree that the second version is much stronger, and  plunges into the story so it feels more real, much more so than the first one.

So if you've got a scene that you feel is somehow lacking immediacy or there's just something not quite right that you can't put your finger on, try hacking it up and rewriting while religiously following the Action >> Reaction Cycle, and you should find some impressive results.

The Novel Factory - Novel writing software

If you've found this article useful, then you might be interested in reading our Novel Writing Roadmap. And if you like that - then you might be tempted to download a free trial of The Novel Factory, which is a software programme we've developed to help writers learn their craft, especially aimed at new writers completing their first novel, but also useful for established novelists in organising their notes, locations, characters and scenes.

If you agree, don't agree or have any other comments on this article, I'd love to hear them. And I'd particularly love to see before and after examples of this technique in action.

Your draft should be in pretty good shape now, and you really are nearing the finish line.

However, eager though you may be to show your masterpiece toagents in order for them to snap it up, you don’t want to rush things and shoot yourself in the foot.

Take another break – at least a week if possible, and then come back for a final fine tuning.

You need to be really ruthless now, seek out clichés, telling instead of showing, lazy description, meandering prose. Cut it out. Cut it down. Look for inconsistencies and iron them out.

Here are a few more areas you can fine tune:

 

Dialogue Mechanics

Dialogue is important. It brings the reader into the moment, it feels alive and happening. When is the first dialogue on your story? If it’s not in the first few pages, you could consider moving it forward.

Many new writers overuse replacements to the word said, resulting in something like this:

“You look depressed.” observed Jennifer.

“I am,” answered Barry.

 “You should just cheer up,” concluded Jennifer.

“Whatever,” grumbled Barry.

These colourful replacements border on the cardinal sin of telling not showing, and are obtrusive, dulling the pace.

Instead of relying on words like this, use description of the action to keep things moving and keep the reader right in the action. Also, don’t forget that ‘said’ tends to be invisible to readers when they’re in the flow (unless there are really a lot in a row), and often you don’t need anything to describe who’s speaking, as it ought to be obvious from context.

“You look depressed,” said Jennifer.

Barry picked at his nails and sighed.  “I am.”

“You should just cheer up,” Jennifer put a bright look on her face.

“Whatever.”

 

Paragraphing

You may think that paragraphing is not really a central part of writing. Words and sentences, that’s real writing – paragraphing is what happens inbetween.

Well, how dense or open your prose is will make a big difference to how pacy it feels and whether your reader feels like they’re wading through or skipping along.

When you scan over your work, is most of the page filled with words? If so, it may benefit from more whitespace, giving your story space to breathe. Shortening paragraphs is an extremely effective way to tweak the pace and atmosphere of your novel.

 

Don’t labour the point

This means don’t repeat yourself, and don’t keep trying to get the same point across in too many different ways. One well thought out way will be stronger on its own than several obvious or weak ways.

For example.

Celine eyed the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the shelf and her mouth watered. She loved red wine. It was the colour, like liquid rubies, and the sharp delicious taste. Her desire for it ached. The way it warmed the back of her throat. She loved it so much. Her fingers twitched towards it.

In this example we are told three times that she loves wine, and by the last time you just want to scream ‘Yes, I know!’

It’s much stronger with the second two removed:

Celine eyed the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the shelf and her mouth watered. She loved red wine. It was the colour, like liquid rubies, and the sharp delicious taste. The way it warmed the back of her throat. Her fingers twitched towards it.

However, if you want the prose to be really tight, we shouldn’t be telling at all and in fact we can do without any of them, and get the same impression from the description alone:

Celine eyed the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the shelf and her mouth watered. It was the colour, like liquid rubies, and the sharp delicious taste. The way it warmed the back of her throat. Her fingers twitched towards it.

You've done it! You've written your novel! Congratulations, you are now a member of a relatively elite club. So now your adoring audiences will be beating down your door to buy your novel and make you rich.

Or... you can go to Step 15. Submitting your novel to an agent.

Congratulations! You’ve finished your first draft! You deserve a big cigar, glass of champagne or whatever it is you celebrate these things with. Feel free to take a few days or a week off, you’ve earned it.

But then, back to work! You may think that now you’ve thrashed out a first draft, the hard part is over, and you’re reaching the finish line. Afraid not. There’s a whole lot more slog to go. But don’t be disheartened! You’re still further then 80% of people who say they’re going to write a book. Don’t give up!

Most of the large scale structure of your book should be relatively fixed by now – if you planned well, it will mean less serious redrafting is needed (for example cutting out entire chapters of characters), so you can focus on fine tuning.

We’ve already looked at some of the mistakes that will instantly mark you out as an amateur, now let’s take a look at a few aspects of writing that you can perfect to take your writing from mediocre to excellent.

Note - if you're looking for a guide to the various different drafts of a novel, you might be interested in this article.

Have you over explained your characters?

The core of this is the good old ‘show, don’t tell’. Make sure you’re not explaining the character’s personality to your readers, as they’re likely to find it dull and distancing.

Compare:

‘Jane was a slob. She hadn’t tidied up in months.’

‘Jane kicked the mouldy plate off the bed and rummaged around for the least stiff pair of jeans from the piles strewn on the floor.’

In the first example, the author makes a statement about a character, and then backs it up with a little evidence, but they’re still just giving their word. In the second example, the author is keeping out of it, just describing the action and letting the reader draw their own conclusions about the cleanliness habits of Jane.

Also, new writers often feel they need to give the entire life story of a character early on, but this isn’t a good idea. It stalls the action, and anyway, it’s more natural to get to know people in a slower, more gradual way. When you meet someone new, you don’t immediately learn everything about them, that happens over time.

By just giving consistent broad brushstrokes, you allow your reader to use their imagination and fill in the gaps, in many cases creating a character with more layers than even you thought of.

Another useful technique for building character is to use what your character notices to give information about them. When they enter a room, do they notice all the pretty girls; the stains on the carpet; or do they note all the exits and times to reach them? What they notice tells us a great deal about their outlook and priorities.

Is the Point of View clear?

A nice way of thinking about point of view is ‘whose skin are you in?’ 

This doesn’t mean that you need to write your story from the 1^st person (using ‘I’ instead of ‘he’ or ‘she’), or even that you have to use the same character’s point of view through the whole book (although the latter may not be a bad idea if it’s your first book – learn to walk before you run).

However, it is critical that the reader knows whose point of view they are following in any given scene, and this shouldn’t change within a scene.

This is because changing point of view character within a scene is very disorientating for the reader and it breaks their suspension of disbelief, as they have to mentally adjust.

Writing from a particular character’s point of view is more than just where they are standing; it’s also about what they notice. As mentioned above in the section on characters, different characters will have completely different experiences from exactly the same environment. 

For example, you’d be unlikely to have a teenager commenting on the ancient gothic architecture (unless that’s a strong part of their character), and an old lady might notice a gang of louts hanging on a corner, but have no idea what the gang bands on their arms represented.

Also, remember that you may be able to mind-read the Point of View character even if you’re writing from the third person, but you absolutely cannot read the minds of anyone else (unless your PoV character happens to be psychic), so you’ll have to get across their opinions through what they say, how they say it, actions and body language.

How proportionate is your plot?

How does your prose balance? How much is action, dialogue or description?

In general, no sentence should be included if it isn’t critical to the plot, but this doesn’t mean there’s no time to stop and smell the roses. As long as the roses have some relevance to atmosphere, and they are described in a way that reflects the mood of the scene.

If you’re going to spend a lot of lines describing something, make sure it’s relevant. For example, don’t spend two pages describing the interior of one building and two lines on another, unless the first building is central to the plot. Because you can be sure your readers are going to think it is.

Likewise, if your character is doing something, such as cooking, or fixing a saddle, don’t describe it in too much detail unless it’s important to the plot or builds atmosphere. Just because you find a hobby interesting, doesn’t mean your readers will.

On the other hand, if there’s an action scene which is central to the plot, shows key aspects of a main character and throbs with atmosphere – then break it down into moment by moment detail.

Unfortunately, there are no hard and fast rules to follow about how much description to have and how much detail to include in a particular spot – it’s all about balance.

With the second draft in the bag you can see the finish line. It's time for Step 14: Refining the Final Draft of your novel.

For more guidance on novel writing, click here.

Now, it’s been a long journey already but we’re finally ready to start a first draft. If you’ve completed all your planning well, this first draft should take a fraction of the time it would without the planning, and will also be as tight as a third draft of an unplanned manuscript.

By following the blocking from the previous step and referring to your character viewpoints, location and plot notes, you should fly through the first draft.

Here are the four worst new novelist mistakes, try to avoid them in your first draft!

1. Too many adverbs

Overuse (many creative writing tutors say any use at all is overuse) of adverbs will scream amateur louder than anything else.

In case you don't know, adverbs and words which modify (if you don't know what modify means you should probably consider switching to photography) a noun. They often end in 'ly'.

Examples:

 ·        He said, knowingly.

·         She dropped the knife, meaningfully.

The problem with adverbs is that they are often redundant, re-stating something that is obvious from the dialogue or verb. And if it's not obvious in the dialogue or verb - why isn't it?

Adverbs are often a marker of lazy description, and showing, not telling (see next mistake).

They’re also a key indicator for weak verbs. You can think of the ly as a crutch.

For example:

 He walked weakly to the door.

Might be replaced by:

He stumbled to the door.

2. Telling not showing

If you haven't heard this yet, brace yourself. It's the mantra of creative writing teachers everywhere. 

It's very common for new writers to try to explain things to their readers, as a kind of omnipotent narrator, rather than allowing the reader to experience everything themselves through the protagonist's senses.

For example, if you tell me that:

Martin Cousins was a very dangerous man.

I'll be yawning before you get to the next sentence. So what? And anyway, so you say.

However, if you say that:

Martin's knife sliced through the soft flesh of his latest victim.

Then the point is made vividly and we might even have a shiver of fear. Also, we're not being preached at; we're observing the cold, hard facts with our own eyes.

3. Overly formal dialogue

The main problem with natural dialogue in fiction is that it's nothing like natural dialogue in real life. If an author did put genuinely genuine sounding dialogue into their work, readers would be bored silly, because normal speech is full of half-finished sentences, interruption, meandering and assumed knowledge.

So fictional dialogue needs to be much more succinct, with clear direction and eloquence, but to still give the impression of being natural.

Some tips to making speech sound less formal is to use fillers (well, umm, I guess), pauses, interruptions and contractions (do not = don't, I will = I'll).

4. As you know, Bob

This is the common phenomena of writers using a character to explain a plot point to another character who already knows it.

To take an unlikely example, let's say knowing the ingredients of a Screwdriver is critical to the story. 

The amateur writer might decide to have two barmen, one of whom says something along the lines of:

'Well, as you know Nick, a screwdriver is a mix of vodka and orange juice.'

If Nick already knows it, why is his colleague telling him something so obvious? 

That's what the readers will be saying anyway. It comes across as wooden, and it's lazy. And it's just a sneaky way of telling (see above).

Characters should never say anything that the person they're talking to knows already. This isn't to say a character can never explain a plot point, just make sure they are telling it to someone who genuinely wants and needs to know.

First draft complete! Now you can go onto step 13. The Second Draft.

Serious about becoming a novelist? Save yourself waste time and energy by getting the right tools for the job.