Miko Johnston – The Writers in Residence

FOR THE LOVE OF (OUR) WORDS

by Miko Johnston

Whenever I read books on my Kindle, I find sentences, paragraphs, and dialogue highlighted by readers, in some cases by a multitude of readers. Lines that speak a certain truth to them, that are beautiful to read, or capture an emotion that hovers near the surface of our consciousness. Lines that express what many of us feel or know to be true, but we can’t articulate because we can’t say it as well, or at all.

Every time I write something, whether it’s a post for this blog, a correspondence, or an entire novel, I always have a line or two that makes me proud. Something I feel not only encapsulates what I want to say, but does so in a way that goes above and beyond what I normally write. Genius may be too strong (not to mention immodest), but the words raise the bar from good to superb, in my opinion. They capture a small moment in life, a bit of character. They illustrate what I mean to express in a unique, visual, and impactful way. At least, in my eyes.

Alas, I rarely hear others who’ve read the words and phrases I most prize and commended them. Don’t they get it? Or am I wrong? It frustrates me sometimes.

I always want readers to enjoy my work, page by page, cover to cover, but I also want them to savor what I consider to be extra-tasty bits. I can point to at least one example, and often more, in each of my novels, but I’ve yet to see them mentioned in reviews, or highlighted, figuratively or literally, throughout the pages. Even when I’ve repeated some examples of these lines and dialogue from an earlier Petal In The Wind novel, using them as flashbacks in a later book. Even when I’ve used a few examples in my posts on this blog to illustrate a point.

Okay, sometimes my writers group members have praised a particular line, but we always have to say something complementary. It might be like wine tasting – after sampling them all, the one you like best may not be great, just better than the rest.

Am I alone in thinking this? Do you ever wonder if readers have the same reaction to the lines you prize most as you? If they remember the passages you believe particularly memorable, repeat the lines you consider most quotable? Does it matter to you?

Miko Johnston, a founding member of The Writers in Residence, is the author of the historical fiction series, “A Petal in the Wind”, as well as a contributor to several anthologies including the about-t0-be-released “Whidbey Island: An Insider’s Guide”. Miko lives in Washington (the big one) with her rocket scientist husband. Contact her at mikojohnstonauthor@gmail.com

HOW TO GROW A STORY

by Miko Johnston

I wish I could take credit for the title of this post, but the idea came from one of my favorite books on writing, How To Grow A Novel by Sol Stein. So instead, I’ll focus on what I’ve learned from the parallels between gardening and writing.

Know your regional growing zone

Trying to create a desert garden in the Pacific Northwest makes no sense. If you aim to sell what you write, be sure you have, or can create, an audience for it, otherwise write for your own pleasure.

Plant your seeds at the right time

In gardening, as in writing, timing can be everything. When I began working on my Petal in the Wind series in the early 2000s, I found little information about WWI’s eastern front (in English). That changed when the 100^th anniversary of that war approached. We’re a year away from significant anniversaries: our nation’s 250^th, the 25^th of 9/11, and (looking at you, Mad) the 100^th of Route 66, any of which should stimulate interest in books inspired by these events.

Know when to use seeds and when to use starts

With my local climate, anything slow-growing, like bushes, tomatoes or delicate herbs, takes too long to grow from seed, so I buy them as starts. Ideas also can be seeds, which require a lot of development, or “starts”, inspired by an existing story. If you like the thrill of seeing a workable idea break through the soil of your imagination, then go with seeds. Otherwise, get a head start with a pre-sprouted concept.

Plant them in the right place

Some plants need protection from the late afternoon sun while others thrive in hot, sunny conditions. Planting the latter in a place that provides some shade for the former benefits both. In writing, that’s called rhythm, which keeps the scenes flowing at a good pace, with moments of intensity/drama relieved by moments of relief/humor.

Nurture your seedlings, then toughen them up

In early March I plant some vegetable seeds indoors and set them on a south-facing windowsill to sprout. By the end of April, I’ll gradually acclimate them outside once the threat of frost has passed. If they don’t die, they go into the garden. I figure if they struggle a bit to survive, they’ll taste better. Do the same with characters; create them and then challenge them. It gives them, well, character.

Sacrifice the weak for the strongest

Thinning out your seedlings allows the remaining plants ample room to thrive, and lessens the competition for water and nourishment. Overloading your story with too many characters or too much (or a too convoluted) plot will starve out the best parts of your manuscript.

Know when to harvest

Whether flowers, fruits or vegetables, some need to be picked at their peak of ripeness, some slightly earlier and left to ripen on your kitchen counter. Leave a plant too long and it bolts or rots. Then all you can hope for is to collect seeds for next year.

A story must be tended and nurtured until it’s “ripe” for picking. Sometimes that means tackling a second draft while it’s fresh in your mind, other times it’s better to let a finished manuscript sit on the shelf awhile. Just don’t let it linger too long, but if you do, take a seed from it and start again.

Like planting a garden, a great pleasure of writing is growing your seedling into a full-fledged idea, nurturing it and watching it take form until it’s complete. The food we grow feeds our bodies, while the stories we grow feeds minds. But stories have one advantage over garden products.

My writers group used to sell our books at the local farmer’s market. We’d always remind shoppers that unlike the berries, tomatoes and lettuces they’d purchased, our products wouldn’t rot if left in a hot car awhile (insert laughter here).

***

Miko Johnston, a founding member of The Writers in Residence, is the author of the historical fiction series, “A Petal in the Wind”. Her fifth and final book in the series is about to be published. She’s also a contributor to several anthologies, including the bestselling “Whidbey Island: An Insider’s Guide”. Miko lives in Washington (the big one) with her rocket scientist husband. Contact her at mikojohnstonauthor@gmail.com

GROUP QUESTION #3 – Settings & Research, Where & How Much?

By WinR members & guests

Where & when do you set your stories?
How much research do you do on that time & place?

MIKO JOHNSTON: I’ve done extensive research for my historical fiction series, set primarily in and around Prague during the first half of the 20th Century, to give it authenticity. That includes using real places, people, events – even moon cycles accurate to the day – alongside my fictional characters. Some information has been unobtainable (at least in English), so when I can’t make it accurate, I aim for plausible.

G. B. POOL (Gayle): The setting I use in my novels or short stories depends on what the story is. So many of my private detective stories are set in Los Angeles because that city is known for its “high crimes and misdemeanors,” as we saw in these old black and white detective movies from the 40s and the great TV detective series from the 60s and 70s. I watched them all. I like having my contemporary private detectives walk that same turf. My spy novels are set in various countries during WWII, the Cold War, and into the later part of the last century. That might sound like a long time ago, but I lived through part of that time, so I know the later era.

As for how I write about those other times before I came on the scene, I watch a lot of old B&W movies and see what places looked like back when they filmed them and how they dressed. It’s a great way to “see” history when you didn’t live through it.

JACKIE HOUCHIN: My dozen stories for 4th to 6th grade kids are set in present-day Malawi, Africa. However, many of the people in the surrounding areas still live in very primitive circumstances. My goal in these stories was to show upper elementary kids in America how a missionary family (with 6 children) would live among and interact with less than modern circumstances, and still have fun. (And get into trouble!)

Most of the research I did was hands-on. I visited Malawi five times, spending a couple of weeks each. I went into villages, watched kids doing chores, caring for babies and animals, and playing primitive games. I ate the food and learned a few words. I cringed at the sight of humongous insects and scary witch doctors. I lived with a missionary family each time, seeing how they “made do.” I had lots of fun, asked questions, and took copious notes! I also never caught malaria, meningitis, typhoid, or HIV. Whew!

DIANE ASCROFT (Guest): My Century Cottage Cozy Mysteries are set in Fenwater, a fictional small town in Canada, during the 1980s. The place is far from where I now live in Northern Ireland, but I grew up in Toronto, Canada, and often visited the real town of Fergus that Fenwater is inspired by. I loved the place and thought it would be a great setting for my stories.

For my series, I wanted to create a place that beckons readers to step in and stay a while, so a fictional version of Fergus was perfect. Setting my books in Canada during the 1980s is also a nostalgic journey back to my homeland. It was forty years ago when I was a young woman, so it’s a pleasure to spend time writing about the place.

JILL AMADIO: I set my contemporary mystery series on Balboa Island, Newport Beach, CA. My amateur sleuth is a British gossip columnist banished for a year at the request of the royal family, tired of her perceptive comments. She is from the fishing village of St. Ives, Cornwall, my own hometown, which allows me to recall its pub built in 1310, my school, the beaches, my father’s pharmacy, my mother’s dance academy, and the pantomimes she produced every Christmas.

My research to jog my memory is a delight as I have several travel books on the British Isles, reminding me, too, of London, where I was a newspaper reporter. I also keep up with the news in Cornwall.

ROSEMARY LORD: I have been writing mostly about Hollywood in the 1920s and 1930s. I’ve always been fascinated with this era, and learned a lot more when researching my non-fiction books, Hollywood Then and Now and Los Angeles Then and Now.

I do a lot of research, which I find fascinating, and sometimes get far too carried away with that! I love to show how either simple or how difficult life was one hundred years ago, compared with today’s world.

I must confess that writing mysteries set today, when crimes may be solved using cell phones and today’s technology rather than old-fashioned “gum-shoe” sleuthing, leaves me cold!

MAGGIE KING: My stories are set in Virginia in the present day. Most take place in Richmond, the state capital. It’s a city rich in history and culture, and it boasts two major universities. Many of the residents, myself included, moved here from other parts of the country and the world.

Charlottesville and Fredericksburg are also Virginia cities featured in my work. A few months ago, I posted here about a research trip I took to Charlottesville. It’s important to get the details right!

To date, I’ve been content to set my stories in contemporary times. But contemporary times are distressing, so I’m tempted to try my hand at something historical that will involve significant research.

LINDA JOHNSTON: These days, I set all my stories in the present, although I used to also write time travel romances. But these days. my romances, romantic suspense, and mystery stories are set today, since I now enjoy the present more than the past.

I’m currently writing mostly romantic suspense stories, in my own successive miniseries for Harlequin Romantic Suspense. They’re all set primarily in fictional towns, so my characters can get into different kinds of trouble with the law and get out of it without my stepping on real law enforcement toes. My recent mysteries, though, were set in real areas in Alaska, for fun. And of course, I’d visited Alaska.

Thank you, ladies!

ANOTHER TOOL IN THE WRITER’S TOOLBOX

by Miko Johnston

In the course of a story, a character learns that someone important to him has just been killed. His reaction? We can easily imagine shock, grief, sadness, disbelief. A look of confusion as he tries to absorb the news, his face twisted in pain, tears flowing freely from his eyes. We can even picture him so overwhelmed by what’s happened he collapses. But what if his reaction is no reaction? Complete silence, his face devoid of expression. A cop-out? Or a way to rouse our interest as we wonder what’s going through his mind?

I often say writers have many tools in their toolbox to use, and I’ve written several posts about them over the years. Today, I’m focusing on one valuable tool that often gets overlooked – negative space writing.

By this, I don’t mean being critical. The term negative space refers to various techniques. In art, it’s the empty space around or between the primary subject or the background. In writing, using a white space to indicate the passage of time within a book chapter or story is a prime example. We utilize negative space to break up a lengthy section of dialogue with bits of physical action by the speaker (instead of “he said”) or to relieve long stretches of exposition with some dialogue or internal thoughts.

Negative space might focus on something unexpected in a scene, leaving the reader to wonder whether it’s direction or misdirection. It can be contrasting two opposites, like a calm character in a chaotic setting, or the other way around, the surprising reaction piquing our curiosity. It can be using subtext in dialogue, which leaves the reader thinking about what’s really going on beneath the surface.

A common method is to leave gaps or omissions – small but unimportant details out of a story, which allows the reader to fill in the rest. This can be as simple as allowing the reader to assume that if a phone rings, the character will answer it with “Hello”, or they’ll get up from their chair, walk to the door and turn the knob to open it when someone knocks. Negative space can also mean describing a person to a degree, but not down to the thickness of her hair, its precise shade of brown, or how many clips she’s used to pin it up if it’s not essential to the story. This creates a synergy between reader and writer, allowing the reader to participate in the story. It also keeps the pace moving.

Description is, to an extent, a matter of taste. Some prefer a brief sketch, just enough to get a sense of it, and then let the story move forward. Others like more details so they can fully picture what’s being described, down to the smells and tactile sensations. Leaving some negative space means you’re as conscious about what you leave out as what you put in. You never want to omit anything important to the story or limit the sensory details that make scenes come alive. Here, negative space gives some breathing room so the reader doesn’t feel overwhelmed with everything everywhere, all at once.

Another technique implies, rather than describes, an action, emotion or a setting. A classic example of this is by writing about the absence of something rather than what’s present. In my first novel, I wanted the reader to not only see, but feel the destruction of my character’s village. In addition to describing the wreckage, I also included what was missing – any signs of life…

…No birds chattered, no horses whinnied, no chickens screeched, no men shouted for their wives, no women screamed for their children, no babies cried for their mothers….

The positive space describing the destruction evokes sensory images – the wreckage and plumes of smoke, the smell of burning wood, which we can see. The negative space evokes a different response, one we feel. One provides visuals, the other, emotions. It creates a more complete picture. It also gives the appropriate weight to this important scene, one that will affect my character for her entire life, over the course of five novels.

Here’s another example of positive space vs negative space writing. Imagine a protagonist sitting down for a drink at a café or bar, when a huge explosion happens nearby. Positive space writing would show the scene post-explosion; the wreckage, the body count, the survivors, both injured and stunned. It would include the character’s reaction, physically and mentally. We learn immediately if she was seriously hurt, bloodied, dazed, or temporarily deafened. We’re there watching as she bolts from the scene, or runs toward the explosion to help.

With negative space writing, the character might act uncharacteristically; perhaps she remains seated to finish her drink, with the reader wondering why. Or you might cut to another scene, either one created in her unconscious mind, or set elsewhere with other characters who learn of the explosion, leaving the reader to ponder what happened before returning back to explore the aftermath. This would build interest, as the reader not only has to figure out what caused the explosion, but what happened to the protagonist. Or, you might skip ahead with a white space and leave it to the reader to figure out how many deaths and injuries resulted in the explosion, how scared she felt, or how she got away – if we eventually figure out what we need to know about what happened in that scene.

To use negative space writing successfully, you must do it deliberately and with purpose. You never want to leave out anything important to the story, or neglect to make your characters recognizable, your scenes intriguing, and your plot believable. The omissions and subtext must be apparent, as well as their meaning. When done properly, it engages the reader, playing to their curiosity, encouraging their involvement with the plot and attachment to the characters. It’s what we as writers want to accomplish, which makes negative space a useful tool in the writer’s toolbox.

Have you incorporated negative space writing in your work? If so, how do you use it?

Miko Johnston, a founding member of The Writers in Residence, is the author of the historical fiction series, “A Petal in the Wind”, and currently minutes away from completing the fifth and final book of the saga (whew!) She’s a contributor to several anthologies including the recently released “Whidbey Island: An Insider’s Guide”. Miko lives in Washington (the big one) with her rocket scientist husband. Contact her at mikojohnstonauthor@gmail.com

THE WEIGHT OF WORDS

by Miko Johnston

Words have become a frequent topic for my posts. I often say they’re a primary tool in the writer’s toolbox, and like all tools they need to be kept sharp as well as up-to-date.

When I read, I’ll occasionally come across a word I don’t know or might be unsure of its meaning, whether in English or another language. Whether plots or articles, writing that includes corporations or government agencies and bureaus often use acronyms, and thanks to texting, so does modern fiction. We all know FBI, CEO, LOL. If the mystery is set in the fictional Gotham City, we can figure out what GCPD stands for. When the unfamiliar term is foreign, an acronym or other modern slang I’ll search for it online. I don’t mind doing this, as I enjoy learning new words, terms and expressions to expand my vocabulary, even if I never use them.

I used to keep my dictionary and thesaurus handy when I write. Now, I prefer to look up words online when I’m not sure of the proper meaning, or if they’ve changed over time. I google “(language) to English” if I need a translation, or the reverse if I need the word or phrase in another language. If I’m uncertain if a word I want to use is best or if another would be clearer, I check the thesaurus. I often understand the meaning better from similar examples than dictionary descriptions. If the synonyms don’t relate to what I want to express I delete the word and find another. You could say the dictionary “tells” me the meaning while the thesaurus “shows” it.

My thesaurus also comes in handy when I need a substitute for an overused word, or if I can’t think of the right one to use. However, it’s old and doesn’t reflect modern speech. If I want the language to be au courant, I google the word, or the idea I want to express, and add synonym. The results help me decide whether to stick with my original word, choose a better one from the list, or pick a different word that more closely expresses what I want to say.

I also search for the etymology of words, phrases and expressions. As a writer of historical fiction, I must know when they came into usage to avoid anachronisms. The reverse is true as well. A word or phrase that brings authenticity to a period in history would sound ridiculous spoken out of time – who says 23 skidoo, groovy, or gag me with a spoon anymore? Then, I consider who will use the word. For example, I wouldn’t have a fusty old person use hipster (for the time) jargon, or vice versa.

Sometimes I must use an obscure word. When it’s foreign or an historical reference, I often describe it in the sentence following its usage. Sometimes the meaning can be gleaned by context, such as when my characters lit a yahrzeit candle to commemorate a loved one’s death. However, some terms can’t be explained without a dictionary-like entry – for example, plastron, which I used in my first novel, set in 1899. I expect most readers had to look that word up to find it meant “an ornamental front of a woman’s bodice or shirt consisting of colorful material with lace or embroidery, fashionable in the late 19^th century”. Hardly something that could evolve naturally in dialogue. Certain genres, such as historical fiction and hard sci-fi, as well as unique careers and hobbies of the characters, give the writer some leeway for the occasional obscure term. So does a post on a writer’s blog.

Even so, I sometimes question the use of vocabulary that may be unfamiliar to the average reader, like etymology or anachronisms. I don’t want to oversimplify the subject, nor do I want to write over the reader’s head. I wonder – should I find another way to express myself? Is there a better way that won’t send readers rushing for their dictionary? Or is that necessarily a bad thing?

Some believe using more complex terminology – what we used to call “hundred dollar words” – makes them sound smart, while others find it pompous and pretentious. A wise person can explain complex ideas in complex terms, but a wiser person can do the same using plain language. I wouldn’t consider that “dumbing down.” I’d call it making the information more accessible to more people. Even so, the best word may be foreign to some, including me. As a reader, I will look up a word I don’t know or am unsure of its meaning in the context of what’s on the page. If I have to do that once or twice, I will, but too many unfamiliar words put me off.

Some writers must use foreign words, terminology, slang, or acronyms related to the time period, profession, or avocations of their characters. How do you handle challenging vocabulary as a writer and as a reader?

Miko Johnston, a founding member of The Writers in Residence, is the author of the historical fiction series “A Petal in the Wind” as well as a contributor to several anthologies, including the about-t0-be-released “Whidbey Island: An Insider’s Guide”. Miko lives in Washington (the big one) with her rocket scientist husband. Contact her at mikojohnstonauthor@gmail.com

EXERCISING YOUR VOCABULARY

by Miko Johnston

When I think back to the dark days of the Covid pandemic, I don’t focus on the panic or the shortages. I remember the isolation. Although I had the good fortune of my husband at home and kinship through technology, I found conversations very limited. I began contacting people in my life whom I rarely saw but stayed in touch with, usually with a Christmas card, but many of my friends from the past were mired in their own woes or didn’t respond. Worse, despite having ample time to finish my novel in progress the distress kept me from writing anything…for eighteen months.

I still recall an evening at least six months into the lockdown. My husband, exhausted from yard work, went to be early. His older son called that night. In the past, I’d speak to him briefly before passing the phone to his father, but neither of us wanted to wake him. As I spoke to my stepson I began to realize how much I craved company, even if only over the phone, so what would have normally been a five-minute call stretched into over an hour. I think he, too, longed to talk, and for the same reason.

Our conversation was stilted at first, but not because of any personal reason. He and I were merely out of practice. We’d pause to think of the right word or string more than a few words together in a sentence. It took about five minutes to verbally limber up before we could chat ‘normally.’

That served as a wake-up call. From that day on, I began playing word games. It kept me entertained and, more importantly, prodded me to keep my vocabulary alive and active. Anything that forced me to plumb my memory for words (and spelling). I know many writers use writing prompts, but I wasn’t yearning to write better as much as speak better. I needed something deeper than that.

I began with Spelling Bee, a New York Times creation that gives you a ring of six letters with a seventh letter in the middle. You form words, four letters or more, that must include the center letter. I even got my husband hooked on the game; we still play it almost daily and compare our lists. Later, I added Wordle to my daily routine. You get six chances to find the five-letter word of the day – if you’re not familiar with it, you can read the instructions on the NYT website.

In both cases, trying to figure out the words stimulated my brain. Sometimes, words would pop into my head, even if they didn’t fit the puzzle. That’s when I decided I needed more stimulation and started inventing my own puzzles.

Wordle inspired a new way to challenge myself. I’d pick the first two letters of potential words and list as many as I could. I’d start with my “prompt” letters and work my way through the alphabet with the goal of reaching at least fifty words. As with my conversation with my stepson and my daily dose of word games, the more I challenged myself, the more words I could recall, and the faster they came to me.

Here’s an example:

HOW MANY WORDS CAN YOU MAKE THAT BEGIN WITH THE LETTERS:

BR——-

RULES:

Words must be at least five letters
No adding prefixes like S; ED; ING; LY; NESS to a root word of four or less letters
Only one version of the same word is allowed (ex: float OR floated OR floating)
Homographs are allowed with variations in the spelling to reflect their different meanings

(ex: score [to make shallow cuts]; score [to earn a point] becomes scoreboard)

No abbreviations
No foreign words unless they’re in common English usage (ex: pasta; rondo; bidet; pashmina)
No proper nouns
No acronyms (ex: AWOL)
No hyphenated words or contractions

GOOD LUCK!

A TRIBUTE TO WORDS AND WRITING

By Miko Johnston

My late father co-founded a non-profit organization dedicated to Scandinavian philately. In addition to translating and publishing educational books on the subject, the group held monthly meetings as well as annual exhibitions where members could present their best work. Dad served as their president for many years; his name and phone number appeared on all contact sources.

He wasn’t home the day a young man called for more information about the organization. I offered to answer as much as I could. His first question: “Can you join if you’re under eighteen?” Yes, I told him, there is no age limit. “Can I bring another guy to the meetings?” Sure, I said, but something told me he had something, um, different in mind. I then said, “You do realize that philately is stamp collecting.”

“Oh.” He promptly hung up.

We spend a great deal of time writing about words on this blog. If you hunt through our archives, you’ll find many posts on the topic, which should come as no surprise. Words are the most important tool in a writer’s toolbox. We think about them, which one to use in any situation, whether a particular word or one of its cousins (aka synonyms) would be more precise, more distinctive. Can we convert that verb/adverb pairing into one verb? How many descriptives can we edit out without losing the image, the rhythm, or the voice of a character?

Words convey and put into context images, thoughts and ideas, especially when they’re carefully selected. We have non-verbal ways of communicating as well, but unless there’s some established pattern to it, such as sign language or Morse code, their subtlety makes them less effective for interpretation – is she slouching because she’s humiliated, or her back hurts?

Whether spoken or written, signed or signaled, we rely on words as the basis of communication. Misinterpretations may cause embarrassment, as my earlier story shows, but in the right hands they surprise in an entertaining way. Writers can inform the reader without the character’s knowledge, a technique I relied upon in my first novel, when my protagonist was a child. Or they can make the reader wait – ideally with keen anticipation – for information the character already knows.

We can use words to assure clarity of thought, or to deliberately deceive. Red herrings in mysteries fall into the latter category, as do ambiguous phrases meant to mislead the reader into thinking something the author intends to prove wrong later. I’ve done this so often in my writing it might be a hallmark of my style.

Words have the power to calm and reassure, to encourage and inspire, or to agitate and inflame. Think of all the influential speeches you’ve heard or read, or the memorable phrases culled from them. Whether by actors reading from a script, politicians addressing their constituents, or activists crusading for their cause, their words, carefully chosen with deliberation, hold the power to move people. To bolster their spirits, or shock them. Convince them they’re right, or maybe, just maybe, they’re not.

All have one thing in common: Someone, or some ones, wrote those words.

Not to equate a frothy page-turner with The Gettysburg Address, but I celebrate writers who celebrate the written word. I commiserate with writers who agonize over the best way to express their or their characters’, thoughts. I respect writers for what they try to accomplish whenever they put pen to paper or fingers on the keyboard.

That’s why we deserve a formal representation for what we do.

The practice of medicine has a symbol – a caduceus with two snakes coiled around it. The symbol of law is the scales of justice. No formal symbol of writing exists, although if you Google it you’ll find cartoons of a hand holding a pencil or pen.

What do you think would make an apt symbol for writers?

Miko Johnston, a founding member of The Writers in Residence, is the author of the historical fiction series, “A Petal in the Wind”, as well as a contributor to several anthologies including the recently released “Whidbey Island: An Insider’s Guide”. Miko lives in Washington (the big one) with her rocket scientist husband. Contact her at mikojohnstonauthor@gmail.com

BRINGING CHARACTERS TO LIFE

by Miko Johnston

We can plot our stories well, describe settings vividly, and touch on all the senses, but the heart of any story is its characters, and they need more than a heart to make them come alive.

I began writing fiction, or more accurately, learning how to write fiction, while working in a library. It gave me access to numerous books and magazines for self-study. One book in the collection devoted a chapter to creating characters, complete with a checklist of traits and their opposites – outgoing vs shy; scholarly vs uneducated – from which the prospective writer could choose and assemble. I found the idea silly and worse, useless. Whether in my writing or my reading, I want characters to resemble real human beings, only more interesting than the average person. You can’t achieve that by compiling random parts. Just ask Dr. Frankenstein.

We’re told to have our characters want something and then keep it from them, make them fight for it. Good advice, crucial for plot. We must describe them with enough detail so the reader can visualize them; again, good advice. Backstories and bios, family and friends, strengths and flaws, jobs and hobbies or interests. How they dress. What and who they like or dislike. The dark secret in their past that drives them forward or holds them back. These big picture details lay a foundation for characters. However, it takes more to breathe life into them. Whether you call them quirks, idiosyncrasies or eccentricities, these subtle differences add a realistic quality to them.

Although our individual quirks may differ, we all have them, which makes this a commonality. In other words, a human trait.

Think of Robert Crais’ Elvis Cole and his affection for cartoon characters, the dry humor of Nelson DeMille’s John Corey, or the fussy Inspector Poirot and his eggs in Agatha Christie’s mystery series. Master art restorer Gabriel Allon inherited his talent, as well as trauma, from his Holocaust survivor mother. And while we naturally empathize with a blind girl like Marie-Laure in “All The Light We Cannot See”, the way she copes with it makes her mesmerizing.

There are two general types of quirks – nature and nurture. Nature includes those the character was born with, such as personality types or bio-physical traits like an intellectual disability or a club foot. A life experience, whether an acquired taste or an emotionally painful experience, would fall under the nurture category. In all cases, how the character has internalized the trait leads to the quirk.

Quirks have to be worked organically into the story. They shouldn’t be unrooted in the character’s history or biology. They should play a role in the character’s thoughts, emotions or actions. They need to be noticeable, but not too blatant; subtle, but not too vague. Readers need to discover them on their own by being shown the behaviors rather than being told about them.

A character’s quirks can be related to their physicality, the way they dress or groom themselves, their behavior or personality, or they can be completely random. Here’s one example: money. Most everyone I’ve met has a philosophy, or criteria, about what they’re willing to spend on something. They’ll be tight-fisted about some things and looser, even extravagant about others. What does it say about a character who’ll spend hundreds of dollars on tickets to the opera, a Broadway play, or the Superbowl, but won’t pay two dollars for a can of tuna in the supermarket unless they get a double-off coupon? Or worse, not buy it at all because they can remember when it cost thirty-nine cents? It says they’re “human”.

Ultimately, it’s not so much a matter of “what” a character does or doesn’t do, what they like or dislike, that makes them full-fledged humans. It’s the “why” that makes it interesting and brings them to life. Always listen to your character, for they’ll often tell you what’s right for them. For hints on this, see Gayle’s earlier post.

When treading the fine line between character and caricature, here’s what to avoid:

Cliched or overused idiosyncrasies. If I had a dollar for every alcoholic PI, or divorced or widowed detective, I could pay my cable bill for a year. If you’ve seen it before, add a new twist. If you’ve seen it over and over again, avoid it like the plague (humor intended).
An assemblage of unrelated quirks, as if selected from a list found in a book (jab intended). Author Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe tends his orchids, reads voraciously, and feasts on gourmet food from the comfort of his luxurious home. The genius of his character is how all his passions connect.
Limit the number of quirks, or else – well, just ask Dr. Frankenstein.
Don’t overdo the ones you use. Quirks are like seasoning – you need enough to enhance the flavor without overpowering it.

If you found this post helpful, leave a comment, and feel free to contribute your suggestions for making characters come to life. Frankly, my ulterior motive in writing this comes as much from my goal to write books with believable and engrossing characters as my desire to read them.

SPRING INTO WRITING

by Miko Johnston

Ah, what a year it’s been, beginning with a harsh and, in some places, treacherous winter. So far, spring has not been much better or safer in many parts of the country. It took a long while to arrive and settle down on the West Coast. Hubby and I took a last-minute vacation to sunny Sicily to escape the cold and gloom for a few weeks and postponed our annual winter trip to LA for months until we could travel around by car instead of rowboat. Both escapes kept me away from writing for a while.

I’ve always enjoyed spring, a time of renewal, and probably more so this year after the winter we’ve been through. Thoughts turn from shoveling snow to shoveling dirt in the garden, from watching the overflowing rivers subside to marveling at the regeneration of fauna and flora.

Part of that rejoicing can include a return to writing. Here are some suggestions to inspire you.

I Change it up

If you’re finding it difficult to focus on your manuscript, or daunting to consider starting one, then don’t. Think about other things to write: short stories, flash fiction, a travel memoir, a chapter from your life. Perhaps a letter – yes, snail mail – to a long lost friend or relative. Buy (or make) some blank-inside cards and create your own birthday, anniversary, get well, and sympathy messages.

In short, forget about your WIP for now, but don’t stop putting words on the page. As we always say, writing is writing.

II Revisit

If you’re writing in more than one point of view and your WIP isn’t going forward, you may have the wrong character in the driver’s seat.

I recently critiqued pages from a romantic suspense novel which had two protagonists. One chapter felt stodgy IMO, and the female came off as cold and unkind. The author had written the scenes in the male character’s point of view, so he only got to observe her behavior. I suggested redoing the chapter in the female’s POV, since she was undergoing the emotional upheaval. I felt if the reader understood what led to her bad behavior, they would find her more sympathetic.

If you get stuck, try rewriting the troublesome scene in another character’s POV.

III Revise

One of my favorite quotes about writing has always been: “Books aren’t written – they’re re-written”. Not everyone accepts or believes that.

Some writers tend to think it’s permanent once you’ve written something. We forget that until a manuscript is published, it can always be changed. In my last book, I introduced new characters whom I barely knew. I stopped writing when Covid hit before returning to the partial manuscript a year and a half later. As the story developed I got to “know” the new characters better. With my first draft complete, I went back to their first appearance to find vague conversations and a lack of detail. Using my more intimate knowledge of these characters, I sharpened their dialogue and expanded their descriptions.

If your characters are flat and generic, get to know them better. If your opening doesn’t grab the reader’s attention, your middle sags, or your ending falls flat, rework that section until you’ve solved the problem (for suggestions and tips, search through our archives, including my BACK TO BASICS: WRITER’S BOOT CAMP series).

IV Forget about Perfection

The opposite problem is to get locked into revisions, snipping away or changing words, sometimes back and forth, all in an attempt to make the manuscript flawless. It won’t happen. It never happens. Finish it. Polish it. Then hire a good editor who will clean up your grammar as well as plot holes. Lastly, find a beta reader, or readers, to give you an unbiased opinion. Do the best work you can, and then let it go.

Trust me, I understand how difficult it can be to carve out time to write, especially if we have no pressing need (such as a deadline from our publisher) to do it. However, remember this: you can’t call yourself a writer if you don’t write.

Now please excuse me, I have a novel to finish.

SEPARATING CRITIQUE FROM CRITICISM

by Miko Johnston

Unlike some of you, I never took creative writing classes. Early in my adult life, thanks to dropping out of college, I floundered in various low-level clerical positions to earn my way, but writing was my dream job. By luck I got to meet a writer whom I admired, and told him of my goal. “I want to be a writer,” I said. He responded, “Then why aren’t you?” I realized I’d asked a meaningless question. I should have been more specific – “I want to write professionally”. That’s when I returned to college and eventually became a journalist. I lost that career after a car crash and five year recovery period. Still, the urge to write persisted.

About forty years ago I decided to switch to writing fiction and began working on a series of short stories based on a childhood pet, thinking they might make good children’s books. I showed them to a good friend, who knew me ‘back when’, as well as the critter in question. I thought the stories were cute, funny and clever; as the character grew up, the storylines and maturity of the writing grew with her. My friend’s reaction? “They’re terrible.” Disheartened, I filed the stories away in a drawer. Care to guess how long it took for me to write again?

Eventually I dipped my toe in the writing world once more, this time with the idea of writing a novel. I slowly built my skills by writing, studying authors whom I respected, and reading books on the subject, but mostly by participating in writers groups.

I joined an established critique group about twenty-five years ago, where I met several of my fellow WInRs. I credit the core members with guiding me though the completion and polishing of my manuscript for publication, and like most who stuck around in the group, I eventually did get it published.

I can still recall presenting Chapters 1 – 5 of what is now my first novel, A Petal in the Wind. I’d compressed what eventually became my entire novel into fifty pages. I also recall the group’s unanimous opinion: to put it kindly, not good, but they explained WHY. No character development, hardly any scene setting or sensory details, and worst of all, an unrealistic reaction by my protagonist, thereby committing the worst crime in fiction by presenting a totally unbelievable situation. Their comments were tough to hear, but I listened and took them to heart. The next time I presented pages for critique, I received a very different response.

I see now the group doubted my ability to write well, based on my initial submission, a reasonable assumption. However, the next time I presented pages, which incorporated their suggestions and advice, the revisions not only impressed them, but convinced them I could do this. Frankly, it convinced me as well. The group treated me differently from then on.

Whenever my turn for submitting pages came up, they mixed praise for the good stuff with very useful suggestions for the problematic parts. Some members had a specialty; one focused on the big picture issues, while another (okay, it was Jackie Houchin) scrutinized each word with forensic precision. The group kept me going with positive and constructive feedback until I finished my first draft. When I presented multiple premises for my follow-up book, their comments helped me find the right path forward in continuing my saga.

I also learned how to give critique. In one of my first meetings, I listened to a short story being read aloud by the writer (okay, it was Jackie Houchin), and all I could contribute was a fashionable woman wouldn’t be wearing a white in winter. With the practice that came with reading or hearing pages from other writers, and picking up clues from their critiques, I began to develop sharper skills for evaluating the good and the not-so-good, not only other’s work, but in my own.

This year I celebrate the twentieth anniversary of my first publishing contract. It would never have happened if not for the support and encouragement of my writers group. Nor would it have happened if I’d disregarded their feedback, or became so insulted by it I’d left the group.

I can take some credit for this, but much should go to the core members. They always knew the boundary line between critique and criticism. Others crossed that line, but thankfully they did not remain in the group for very long because they usually could not accept anything beyond praise for their work. Their loss.

I’ve had the opportunity to pay it forward over the years, in critique groups and through my volunteer work with a local high school creative writing class. Occasionally someone who finds out I’m a published author will ask me to evaluate their writing. The lessons I’ve learned through my groups have helped me do that in a positive, yet helpful way.

Learning the difference between criticism and critique is crucial to the process. Critique must be reassuring, especially when you’re calling out the problems in someone’s writing. Criticism is merely negative. Criticism says something isn’t good, while critique may say that but also explain why. Good critique supports the writer, and encourages them by separating the good from the what-could-be-good-if…. It’s uplifting. It pushed you forward, whereas criticism beats you down.

What if I’m asked to critique a piece that may be beyond redemption? That’s when it helps to have a few key phrases, and a list of recommended reading. I find something, anything to praise or comment favorably on, even if it’s a character’s name. I’ll pick one salvageable problem with the writing and suggest a generic solution. Perhaps there’s too much repetition, the dialog’s clunky, or the genre is unclear. I admit some writers shouldn’t be given false hope, but I needn’t be completely discouraging. I might also remind them there’s nothing wrong with writing for one’s own pleasure, or journaling about one’s life (and keeping it private).

I recently found my pet stories and reread them. Granted, many needed work, but unlike the response I got from my friend, they weren’t awful. Sad that it discouraged me for years, delaying me from doing what I always wanted to do. But I’m writing now, and will continue to do so, having learned the difference between criticism and critique.

On another note, I always love to receive and read your comments, but forgive me if I don’t respond immediately. Today’s post coincides with my 25^th wedding anniversary, so hubby and I will be off celebrating. I promise to get back to you soon.

This story by Miko Johnston was posted by Jackie Houchin