STRUCTURES OF A NOVEL BY RITA KARNOPP

What story structure dominates your novel?  The choice is yours, the writer.  Every novel contains four elements that determine structure; setting, idea, character, and event.  You decide which matters most to you and that structure will drive your story.

Setting – We know many stories that are setting driven.  How about Gulliver’s Travels or Into the West?  These stories always evolve around the setting.  Into the West is structured around Indian country and compared to the tame East and the people striving for a better life.  The focus or whole point of the story is for the reader to see the differences between the land and the people.  How do they handle these differences?  What conflicts and resolutions occur from beginning to end? How does this change or transform the characters?  The story begins with the arrival and ends when the character(s) decides to stay or leave.

Idea – This structure is simple; it begins by asking a question and ends when the question is answered.  We know this structure well.  Mysteries are a great example of the idea structure.  The story begins when a crime takes place.  Everyone wants to know who did it and why.  The story is over when we discover the killer and his/her motive.

Character – With character you need to focus on the internal growth of your character(s) throughout the story.  The story most likely isn’t about the growth, it’s about the plot, but character growth is important – it makes us care about him/her.  Character driven stories start the moment your main character(s) find themselves in a situation or crisis they aren’t sure how to deal with.  They are miserable or angry and know they need to make some changes in their life.  The story is about how they handle the situation and their process of change.  At the end either they make changes or settle into accepting their unhappy situation.

Structure – We all love ‘the sky is falling’ story.  You know the earthquake that can potentially destroy the world, or create enough havoc that it is apocalyptic.  Perhaps it’s the death of a king or queen, or even the Vikings conquering new lands.  In all cases the world our characters exist in is being disrupted or turned upside down.

The story begins when the character’s world is threatening chaos or has already begun.  Note that it’s the viewpoint character, not the narrator that guides the reader into the state of circumstance.  

At the beginning you don’t need a long, dragging-on prologue to describe the state of the world.  Why?  To be honest the reader isn’t emotionally invested in the characters at the beginning and they won’t care.  I hate prologues – and I never read them.  Personally, I think they’re useless.

Begin in the midst of action . . . and draw your reader in slowly . . . carefully . . . make them feel, make them care, make them pull for the character(s) – and you’ve got them until ‘the end.’

 Rita Karnopp
Author ~ Romancing the West

ritakarnopp@bresnan.net

http://ritakarnopp.com

http://mizging.blogspot.com

Celebrating Independent Bookstores by Karla Stover

  

In September 2013, author Sherman Alexi sat down with his agent, Nancy Stauffer, and Betsy Burton, co-owner of the King’s English Bookshop to have a little chat about the demise of so many bookstores.  Starting with the question, “What can authors do to help the Indies?” Alexie came up with the idea of sending letters to a small group of authors, whom he called on to “become superheroes for independent bookstores,” and the letters started a movement were writers worked at Indies for a day, drawing in customers and recommending books. Over 400 national and international bookstores participated in the inaugural, Indies First on November 30th, 2013. This year, in Washington State, alone, thirty-two bookstores participated, and I was one of the featured authors in Tacoma, at King’s books.

Tacoma has four main Indies but only King’s participated. King’s has a great reputation for hosting community events: featured poetry readings with open mike, a religion and spirituality book club, a YA Book Club for adult readers, a Banned Book Club, and the LGBTQ Book Club, to mention a few. The local vegan organization meets there as does the sword and laser group. And those are just the regularly-scheduled groups.

Anyway, on Indie day, authors worked in shifts, were asked to provide recommendations for customers, and given the opportunity to read from their own books. I was lucky enough to have two friends face a bitterly cold day and come out to support me, one of whom was visiting from New York, where he is an occasional soap opera actor and Broadway dancer. Now, at least one of my books is headed for the Big Apple. Yay!

Last year my closest writer friend died, and this year my critique group dissolved. Indie day was an opportunity to be with other writers as well as book buyers. Unfortunately for me, the writers were all men who knew each other, and I’m shy when it comes to breaking into groups. Also, I simply had nothing to say to the fellow who wrote about his girlfriend forgetting (maybe on purpose) to flush the toilet, and their urine comingling. I mean, who would have anything to offer, other than an uncomfortable laugh? And the story went one and one and on.

Though no one asked for my book recommendations, it was a good day and I hope I can participate again next year. I’d love to hang around all day and talk books. But if I don’t, it was fun and Indies deserve and need support.  

Christmas Sparkle by Cheryl Wright

Over the years I've accumulated a ton of Christmas stamps, which I regularly use to make cards. This year I vowed I would not, under any circumstances, buy any more Christmas stamps. I could make do with what I already had.

Yeah, sure. And pigs might fly.

I belong to a Facebook group where retired Stampin' Up products are sold. Some are new, some are  second-hand, it depends on how old they are, and who is doing the selling.

Most of us buying these sets are doing so because they became unavailable (due to limited quantities) when they were in the catalogue. Or because we didn't know they existed back then.

I managed to get an incredibly elegant set called "Special Season".  (If you would like to check it out, go to my Pinterest board featuring this set here.)

The greeting shown on this card is from that set. The wreath however, is not a Christmas stamp at all. It's from a set called Stippled Blossoms, which is a fabulous set, and I use it regularly for birthdays and thank you cards.

Again, you can check it out on Pinterest. This is another retired set, which I've had for several months now.

While I was in the process of making my Christmas cards recently, I found a video that uses the leaves from the Stippled Blossom set to produce a Christmas wreath.  (You can see the video here, or at the latter link.)

It was actually incredibly easy to do. Much easier than I'd anticipated.

While I've made a wreath using the technique shown in the video, the card itself is nothing like the orginal card shown.

To sparkle up my card I've added some glitter glue, some matching glitter paper, and some gold ribbon.

This close up gives you a bit more detail.

Til next time,

p.s. The winner of my last giveaway was Karen H. Congratulations Karen!!





Links:

My website:  www.cheryl-wright.com 
Blog:  www.cheryl-wright.com/blog
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/cherylwrightauthor

Lovely Maeve Binchy by Karla Stover

A biography on Maeve Binchy just hit our library shelves, and I snatched it up. I think I read all her books and bought a few to reread. I remember when Minnie Driver was hired for the movie, Circle of Friends, my favorite of all the Binchy books and how displeased (but in a gracious way) Ms. Binchy was because heroine, Bennie, was a big girl and Minnie Driver wasn't. What I didn't realize but learned in the bio. was Ms. Binchy was six-foot tall and what Alexander McCall Smith would call, "traditionally built."

In reading the bio, I learned what a penny candle is (Light a Penny Candle), and also that not every author makes for an interesting biography. Ms. Binchy traveled a lot, partied a lot, and drank a lot. She lost her faith but, nevertheless, was buried with Catholic rites. More of her books were made into movies than were shown here, at least in the Puget Sound area--more's the pity. But here's the cool thing: she lives on in uTube and was a delightful speaker. It's easy to spend half-an-hour or so listening to a charming Irish brogue tell stories. Goodbye and God bless, Maeve Binchy, thanks for the many hours of good reading.

Christmas Traditions Warm the Heart by Betty Jo Schuler

     Christmas Eve, late at night, my husband Paul and I pour a glass of

wine, sit on the floor by our fragrant long-needled pine, the room lit

only by the tree's soft lights, and exchange gift-wrapped boxes

containing ornaments we bought one another.  This tradition began

twenty-five years ago, the year we met, when he gave me a breathtaking

bauble—a clear glass pear-shaped ornament containing a partridge and a

pear tree.  Every Christmas Eve since, we've exchanged ornaments in a

special moment of quiet, peace, and love.  A Candlelight Service at our

church, early in the evening, followed by family gift-giving at my

mother's, sets the tone for this special night.

     Our Christmas tree, cut from the forest days earlier, is decked

with love and memories, and on this particular night, we reminisce.

There's a tiny red-and-white striped stocking, yellowed over the years,

that I bought the year my first son was born.  (Paul wasn't a part of my

life then; we married when my youngest son was in high school, but they

are like his own and he's a beloved stepfather.)  A "God's Eye" made of

Popsicle sticks woven with yarn nestles in the branches, a gift made by

our first grandson, his initials on the back, written in crayon.

Picture-frame ornaments with photos of other grandchildren, when they

were small, evoke tender memories.  A smiling ice cream cone, a gift

from my daughter and her husband, marks the sale of my first published

children's book, Ice Cream for Breakfast.  A china bell with shamrocks,

brought from Ireland, and a gold cross from Rome, are mementos from my

youngest son and his wife's travels.  Paul's and my trips are noted too,

and there are decorations given to us by his brother and sister, and

mine, and my favorite cousin.  Beaded candy canes and wreaths were made

by an aunt that's deceased.     And the lights that bubble around the

bottom of our Christmas tree were purchased only a few years ago, but

reminders of Paul's childhood, they still intrigue little ones. The

quilted tree skirt, hidden by piles of gifts before our family opening,

bears a large green S on a background of red and white—a treasured gift

made by our daughter-in-law.  Our middle son and his wife gave us

appropriate ornaments for our interests, a golf club for my husband and

a book for me.

     The day we take our ornaments, some shimmering, some dulled by the

years, from their boxes, is a special one at our house.  Most of the

boxes are labeled with the date, and a description, but others are

labeled in our minds.  And each year on the night before Christmas, we

reminisce.   

Merriest Christmas Ever by Betty Jo Schuler  

 http://bookswelove.net/bettyjoschuler.php

A Dog's Life by Gail Roughton (as told to her by Max Branan)

I used to be an only dog. I remember those days. Life was good. Mine was the only food bowl on the floor. All the toys in the toy box were mine. No other belly vied for attention when I rolled over on my back. The last bite rule applied only to me. (The last bite of food any of my humans were eating, I mean. You know, that last bite of anything that tastes so good? The rule that it belongs to the dog, no matter how hungry the human is?  Wanted to clarify that, didn’t want y’all to think I was the one doing any biting. I would never!) At least, I think I remember those days. It was so long ago.

I’m Max, by the way. Max Branan. There’re eight humans in my family, Mama and Daddy of course—y’all know her as Gail Roughton ‘cause she writes under her maiden name, says it’s her love song to her daddy or some such—my human sister, Becca, my human brothers Lee and Patrick, Becca’s husband Jason, and Becca and Jason’s puppies, Austin and Kinsley. See, my birth Mom lived with Becca and Jason and got herself in the family way. Becca didn’t believe it at first because she said her dog didn’t do things like that. As if. What’d she think my Mom was? A doggy saint?  Anyway, all my puppy brothers and sisters got new homes but I’m the one who lucked out, ‘cause Patrick picked me out of all ‘em to bring back to Home Central.

Patrick did a search and told Mama that Max was the most popular name for male dogs and Maya the most popular name for female dogs, but that’s not why my name’s Max, un-uh. My name’s Max because about three days after Patrick got me vaccinated up with all the puppy shot prelims at the vet’s office and brought me home from Becca and Jason’s house I got sick. Real sick. So back to the vet I went and they said I had that parvo thing. With a fifty-fifty shot of making it out of the vet hospital alive. But I’m tough. I made it through with flying colors. And when I went back home, Mama (that’s Gail Roughton to y’all) said I looked as pitiful as the Grinch’s dog Max on the cartoon version of The Grinch That Stole Christmas. So that’s why I’m Max. No popularity contest or anything involved. And boy, did they spoil me rotten or what?

So there I am. Dog heaven. I was about three, I guess. And then Jason found this stray on the side of the road. He thought she was a German Shepherd and probably a couple of months old. So he took her home. At first Becca thought it’d be great to have a German Shepherd for their baby – Austin wasn’t born yet, he came about two weeks after that – since my humans used to have a big white German Shepherd they still talked about. Only problem was, this gal liked to eat furniture. And she was scared of her own shadow and didn’t know the meaning of the words “house-broke”. Well, Mama’s such a soft touch. She took one look at her and then sent Patrick over to collect her. He named her Maya. To go with Max. Not so much because it’s the most popular female dog name as for the “M” thing.

And uh – by the way – German Shepherd, my wagging tail. As near full Doberman as makes no never mind. Mama and Patrick knew it first time they looked at her. The undocked tail and ears made everybody else hard to convince, until they saw a Dobie with undocked tail and ears on Animal Planet. Then they all yelled in amazement, “Hey! Maya’s a Dobie?!” Mama and Patrick just rolled their eyes. She was already as tall as my stomach when she first walked in the door and I ain’t no shrinking violet, I’m a fifty-five pounder myself. The vet really blew it, too. Told my folks she’d be about fifty pounds full grown. Try 110 pounds last weigh-in. Maya’s Mama’s shadow. And I got to confess, yeah, I fell in love too. Eventually. Oh, no hanky-panky or anything, both Maya and I have made that trip to the vet, but yeah, I love the girl. Mainly because Austin was born two weeks after Maya got to Home Central. And I liked the little bundle of screams and wet diapers, don’t get me wrong, but Maya? Oh, man, she fell in love. Took all my share of the eye pokes and pulled tail. All I had to do was walk up and lick his face every now and then. That kid grew up laying on her, sitting on her, standing on her. She loved it all. We got him grown to darn near human size and what did Becca do? She brought in a brand-new one and the whole thing started all over again. Though I got to admit, that Kinsley’s a pistol. Her “Hiya!’ makes my tail wag, I just can’t stop myself.

Only thing about Maya is – you got to watch the sudden noises. Mama knocked a kitchen chair across the floor once when she was sweeping. And Maya – man, she moved like lightening. Next thing I know, she’s sitting on Daddy’s lap on the sofa, all hundred plus pounds of her, with her arms wrapped around his neck! She looked just like that Scooby-Doo character when he gets scared and jumps in Shaggy’s arms, you know?

And then one Saturday night when Austin was about two, Patrick came home from work and called Daddy out to his truck. Now, that was weird, right there, man, ‘cause in this family, when anything’s wrong, you call Mama first. But I figured maybe his truck engine was making a strange noise or something. Not. Daddy walked back in and announced, “Patrick’s brought home a puppy.” Mama goes “For real?!” And Daddy says, “Oh, yeah. Says he was sitting by his truck in the parking lot when he got off work. ” So Patrick walks in with this little – and I mean little – bundle of black and white fur and sits it on the couch by Austin. Austin says, “Baby!” Funny, he was only two, but he knew that was a baby. Must be some universal baby language. Lee looked at Mama and said, “Did it ever occur to you that there’s always a baby something or other in this house?” Mama looked pitiful and said, “Oh, yeah.”

Poor Mama. She got another shadow with that boy. Patrick named him Murphy. Gotta keep that “M” thing going. He weighed maybe four pounds but he thought he was a Great Dane. He didn’t bother me that much, all I had to do was growl real low and he’d back off but Maya? Guess you can’t beat the mother instinct. He was all over her. All the time. Don’t know how that gal kept her sanity, if Austin wasn’t climbing all over her, Murphy was. Sometimes both of ‘em together. And feisty? That Murphy, he gets going, you’ll swear you need to call an Exorcist from the sounds coming out of his mouth! He’s topped out at twenty-two pounds, so he’s way the smallest of us, but dang, is he annoying sometimes! You can’t even lay your head on a pillow! And he’s always all over Maya!

Now, as a side note, I heard Mama tell Daddy, “Patrick conveniently forgot about showing me a picture of a friend’s litter of puppies on FaceBook a few weeks ago. Funny, how they were all little black and white bundles of fur, just like Murphy. Found him in the parking lot, right! In a box with a friend standing guard till Patrick got there!”

So there you have it. How I went from an only dog to a trio. But it’s not so bad most times. I guess it’d be pretty boring if I just had my humans. Like at Christmas, it’s kinda nice to have the two of ‘em in the middle of things with me. Gets kinda irritating, that last bite of food having to be split into three bites all the time, but still. Keeps me young. Hey Murphy!! Wait up!! That’s my stuffed squirrel and I don’t have all the stuffing out yet!!! Oh!  And before I forget, you can check out Mama here--http://bookswelove.net/roughton.php   She's on the computer a lot, and I'm told I and the rest of the gang might make an appearance in an upcoming book she's got brewing. Which would only be fair, I mean, we put a lot of effort into distracting her when she's been working too hard.