The trick to drawing in your reader is to nail the storytelling voice from the start.  Just as in life, your voice should be a reflection of who you are and where your story will go.  Your voice should be able to entertain, enlighten, amuse, move or whatever is authentic to you and to your story.  And it should start this way and remain consistent.  As Adair Lara says in her wonderful March/April Writer Digest article “All About THAT Voice”, ” It’s not the paint on the wall; it’s the wall itself.”

She points out that the content in your story is not the first thing drawing your audience in; it’s the voice.  Although her article is geared toward writing non-fiction, it applies to fiction and to life as well.

In order for your story to succeed, the reader must relate to the voice.  I immediately think of J.D. Salinger’s  teenage protagonist and narrator ,Holden Caulfield in “The Catcher in the Rye”.

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”

Holden Caulfield is a naive and rebellious teenager who is resentful of the adult world.  He detests hypocrisy, yet he, himself, is a contradiction.  He fails classes and refers to himself as being dumb, yet his intelligence is reflected in his extremely articulate narration through out the story, as we see above in that very first sentence of the novel.

The reader immediately senses what kind of teen Holden is and how he perceives the world, without revealing any additional details.  The reader relates to his voice and feels drawn to the story.

In F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby”, the story opens with Nick Carraway, the narrator:

“In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. “Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me,” just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages you’ve had.”

Wow.  That is powerful.  The reader senses that Nick is an easy-going, yet sometimes sarcastic, optimistic character, therefore; it is easy to follow along with him as he describes the life-style and experiences of his wealthy, mysterious neighbor, Jay Gatsby.  Nick’s optimism fades as we progress through the novel, symbolic of the fading exterior shine of the wealthy, fun lifestyle of the rich.  Nick is a reserved, Yale educated 29 year old man, who learned from his father and upbringing not to form quick judgements.  However, by the end of the story, he learns through irony and tragedy, the potential ” decadent” downside of the American dream.  The human aspiration to succeed, to start over, combined with social politics and it’s devastating consequences, betrayal and of one’s own ideals.  All of that, sprouting from  the seed of voice planted in the first paragraph of the story.

Start with your own voice. Bring your personality in.  Then borrow some of the tricks from writers you admire. Weave it all together and dive in.  Don’t think too hard or the voice will not sound authentic.  Just as Lara says, ” A relatable voice is confident, intelligent, vulnerable, personable, authentic and trustworthy. You want to follow this person around. You want to be her friend.”  Just as in life, we choose company based on those we relate to.  Why would a reader choose to follow along in a story if she is unable to relate to the company she will keep.  She won’t.

It’s not the paint on the wall; it’s the wall itself. It’s not the fluff on “the outside” in the content or plot, it’s the authentic voice beneath.  Start with THAT voice and your reader won’t be able to do anything else but follow you to the end.

Always hurrying from one place to another, from one person to another, from one moment to the next, we miss out on the ability to really see what is happening around us.  And if you are a writer, you lose the chance to find the story inside you. And then, perhaps, even if you are not a writer, you lose the chance to find the story inside you.

In Jack Hamann’s article in the February 2015 edition of THE WRITER, titled “Sowing Sentences”, he tells us how his writing was changed, at least in part, by a book written by Verlyn Klinkenborg.  The book,  titled “Several Short Sentences about Writing”, stresses the idea of noticing things: big things like the Iowa sky, small things like bees and eternal things like seasons.  “Everything you notice is important,” Klinkenborg says “Let me say that a different way: If you notice something, it’s because it’s important.”

What a beautiful and refreshing idea that is; to notice the things around us so that our imagination and creativity have the chance to grow.  Hamann tells us that Klinkenborg admonishes writers to take the time to see the world around us without putting it in words right away.  “Stop taking endless notes, and spend more time simply noticing. Notice what stands out.  Notice what captures our imagination. Notice without assigning meaning. Notice without judging.  Notice without writing.”

Af first, I thought this suggestion was hypocritical to our passion of writing.  How are we to write well if we do not study our material, take notes on our research, or analyze what we observe? But, then I thought about what these two talented writers were really trying to say and I remembered the wise words of Steve Alcorn in his fabulous course on UDEMY:  ” Writing a Novel”.

“Keep it simple” Alcorn suggests. “Don’t explain everything; let it speak for itself.  Readers will get it if it’s written well.” “To write big”, he says, “keep the sentence structure simple. Describe action in real time. Show the characters’ emotion and DON’T write complex sentences that will confuse the reader, do not summarize and do not analyze”.  In order to do that, to write big, we must first pay attention to our surroundings, before we rush to the keyboard with empty words that fall flat.

I have often heard writers advise aspiring authors to “write when not writing”.  Take the time to think things out in your head before plopping words onto the paper.  Therefore, doesn’t it make sense to take in the world and observe what is happening around you before coming to conclusions right away.  Might that process diminish the power of our imagination?

Warren Adler supports this in his interview with Jonathan Aldridge in the same edition of the February 2015 “The Writer”.  Mr. Aldridge asks Adler if journalism helped his fiction writing or whether the fiction writing and journalism are separate entities.  Adler responds with the following:

” Journalism taught me both speed and the necessity of observation.  Indeed, every thing experienced in life and carefully observed is the mother’s milk of creative writing”

We are too quick to race over the simple things that are important in life, in order to get to the next phase, which usually involves making money or obtaining something we want.  Whether we are writers or not, we could all benefit from the cliched idea to ” stop and smell the roses.”  Because, if we fail to take the time to observe, we fail to enjoy the moment.  And in the end, that is all we really have; the moment.

Whether we observe as writers looking for story ideas, or non-writers who look simply for ways to feel satisfaction or joy, stop taking notes, analyzing and judging.  Notice the big and small things around you with a clear and unprejudiced mind.  Have no expectations and be open. Then, when you’re  ready to record the things you noticed, what you have to say will not only be heard, but your writing will convey the meaning that you meant it to, and felt with the greatest impact.

Tapping deeply into your personal life for writing material has the power to change lives..

As writers, we should dig deep into our personal emotions to discover the “unique, yet universal” issues tied to our past experiences that are  important and relatable to the general public.  As long as we are able to connect that emotion to a universal purpose, our writing should flow naturally,  impacting heavily on those who identify with the characters and/ or the subject matter.  If we are passionate about this subject matter, which we should be if the experience was important enough to change us, our writing shall inspire unity, harmony and a positive change within our audience.  A good story allows  readers to overcome their own pain, while they learn from the mistakes of our characters which mirror their own.

As much as we write to entertain, we write to encourage our readers to think deeper, to face their own challenges and to connect with their emotions, with the hope that our story will change lives for the better.  When our readers walk in the shoes of our characters, seeing life from this other point of view, they are able to examine , then acknowledge -their own imperfections, which is the first necessary step toward their growth.

And so, a good story is born from the seeds of our deep, personal emotions and experiences, combined with the magic of our imaginations and society’s “what if” questions and a good writer should be bold enough to expose  painful experiences or emotions to her audience without holding back, in the shape of a well-developed story.  Everyone at some time in their lives relate, whether directly or indirectly, to intense subject matter such as suicide, racism, forbidden love, rape, bullying, the desire to fit in, death of a loved one and other important “universal” issues and it is the job of the writer to explore these serious and sensitive subjects in a way that our readers can identify with and quite possibly, if we are lucky, transform themselves, even in some small way, as a result.

Anyone ever eavesdrop on a conversation going on nearby?  Perhaps a group on the beach one spot over from you; a family with three small kids strategizing over where they will add the next tower to their sand castle  when suddenly the mother scolds little Johnny as he throws sand at his unsuspecting sister.  Her husband quietly lifts himself out of the sand and cradles his crying daughter, wiping sand from her face before turning to Johnny to explain the rules of the beach.  He tells a story from his own childhood to bring the point home and you’re swept away with the children, listening, seeing, feeling, as they ask questions while the father answers.  Their dialogue paints a picture as clear as if the scene he spoke of were happening right in front of you. Or in the hair salon when Ron tells the client in his chair, next to you,  about his nasty divorce and how his ex-wife robs him blind every week, catching his son in the middle.  The client asks questions and makes comments which prompts more explanation.  Or in line at the grocery store when the elderly couple in front of you talks to one another about the daughter they haven’t seen in two years who is arriving at the airport the next morning with her husband and five month old son.  You can feel their joy as the woman asks her husband if he emptied his tools and extra clothes from the guest room so that they will feel comfortable enough to want to stay longer.  “You put in those dimmer bulbs like I asked you to, right Ralph?” she nudges him.  He smiles “Yes, Eve.  Everything is ready.  Stop worrying.  Everyone will be fine.”  He slides his arm around her neck as their food glides across the conveyer belt.  He kisses her cheek just before the cashier registers their last item.  You watch and you listen and a piece of you wonders what caused the family to separate.  You hope it all works out for them.

In dialogue, we feel what the character feels.  We see what he sees.  Basically, we glimpse who he is and a piece of his world  by the words he chooses and the way he says them.  The questions that are asked, the answers given or not given, the pauses of silence, the hesitations, the reluctance to answer, the insecurity or pain in the way he speaks.  Dialogue is a powerful tool for a writer and a window into a person’s character for an observer (or a regular person).  Often, a narration or description will not convey the emotion or the meaning as clearly as listening to the characters talk.

I  was never good at noticing REAL dialogue.  Too busy with my own life and the noise in my own mind to step outside myself to eavesdrop on others.  However, as a writer I have learned to take the time outside my head to observe the world around me  and one very important way to do that is to listen in on the conversations hovering about, regardless of where I am.  I may use them one day in a story or I may gain a new perspective about something I didn’t know before.  Either way, I am better off.

In Elizabeth Sims’ article in Writers Digest January 2015, tilted “How to craft Flawless Dialogue”, she tells us:

Dialogue is not only a vehicle for adding life to your characters, but also for revealing who they really are.  Let your characters’ words betray their opinions.

Regretfully, people do not always say what they mean and mean what they say, but if you listen carefully when they are not aware that you’re listening, you will get a feel for the truth.  When their guard is down, their dialogue will always betray them.

Ms. Sims sums up her article with the following advice for writers:

.  Break up mega- paragraphs, whether narrative or dialogue.  That is, let neither your narrator nor your characters get long-winded.

.  Opt for dialogue over narration when possible.  If it  needs to be said, can dialogue do it?

.  Be as sparing with dialogue as with description.

.  If you feel your characters are flat, ask yourself if they’re talking enough.

.  Trust your beta readers.  If your reliable writing group, agent or editor says there’s too much dialogue or not enough, consider tinkering.

Whether you are a writer trying to convey a scene or a regular person (my term for people who do not write but still want to hear advice on how to live joyful, happy lives), listen in on the dialogue of life around you.  Get outside your own head and be present in the  heads and lives of others.  By learning the benefits of dialogue, the way people tell their own stories through everyday conversation, your writing ( and your life) will sparkle instead of withering away like a deflated balloon that has lost air, falling flat.

The driving force of fiction, the engine of the story, is conflict.  Whether the conflict evolves through an action -oriented plot such as kidnapping or murder or a basic human reflection such as forgiveness or coming of age, it must compel the reader to  identify with the protagonist and subsequently experience the same transformation.

“This process of discovery,” as David B. Coe explains in Jack Smith’s  November 2014 article “Stop to Start” of THE WRITER,  “occurs incrementally over the writing of the whole novel, and it’s like putting together a jigsaw puzzle.  The more pieces that are in place, the easier it is to fit in the next one, until at the end it all comes together very quickly.”

We read for entertainment and to learn and be enlightened , and to feel.  The conflict is the magic that weaves all of that together through the plot.   If there is no character transformation, and she is not affected by what is happening in the story, the purpose of the story falls short.  While it may entertain, it will likely not teach, enlighten or engage the reader’s emotion.

Ellen Sussman asks the question “If the character isn’t substantially affected by what’s happened in a novel, then why tell the story?”. “The story, or plot,” she says “should be big enough and important enough to have the power to transform the main character.”

This transformation must not come easily.  It should be accomplished only after the protagonist fought her battles, overcame obstacles, experienced hardship or defeat or whatever struggles we threw at her in the construction of our plot  From the opening pages when we first drew in our readers, through the power of our story in the chapters between, to the final pages, we empowered the protagonist, enabling her to transform.   And in the end, isn’t that what the audience wants from the writer?  A plot that carries a struggle the reader connects with, giving the reader the power to feel.

When we write, our goal is to entertain, to teach, to enlighten or engage our reader’s emotion.    By constructing a plot large and important enough to have the power to transform our character, we accomplish that goal.

E.L. Doctorow once said that “writing a novel is like driving a car at night.  You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”  You do not have to see every inch of where you are going in advance, you don’t have to see your final destination or everything you will pass along the way in order to get there.  You only have to see the few feet in front of you. One “step” at a time.

Not only is this wonderful advice to writers but it also applies to many aspects of our lives, such as setting and pursuing goals, whether long term or short term.  Whether it is a small project we want to take on like re-organizing a closet or a larger one such as renovating an entire home.  Planning a wedding, preparing for a baby’s birth and what it takes to make room in your already crowded life for another person, or going through a divorce… just take it one day at a time and you will reach your destination just as sure as you would reach it if you worried about each phase ahead of time.

In writing, sometimes it is difficult to envision the entire project, a novel in my case, from start to finish without becoming frustrated and discouraged at times.  Most times.  Its like exercise in a way- no gain if no pain.  But a bit more enjoyable at least!  Writing is fun, at least for those of us who have been called to this wonderful passion.  But like anything else, it takes hard work and persistence.   There are times when we sit down at our computer with no idea where to start, or pick up from the day before, or where to end.  As talented authors of Books on How To Write– like Stephen King, Anne Lamott, James Scott Bell, Orson Scott Card, Gloria Kempton and others have said time after time: “Just write.  Never give up.”  That is the key.

And… isn’t that the best advice for anything?  No matter how large our goals or dreams seem, no matter how difficult or unrealistic (some of my own kids tell me to give up- that I can never expect to actually be published like a “real writer”) never ever stop.  Never give up, never quit and never stop believing in yourself.  After all, the  journey is half the fun! So keep on driving that car toward your destination.  Just remember to keep your headlights bright and preserver through the night and you will eventually arrive safe and sound!

Watching a character grow over time, as she learns to overcome a fear or bitterness, sadness or insecurity, is suspenseful.  Our audience  wonders if she will be able to overcome the anger from her childhood, or if she will learn to trust herself in the end. As  the pages turn, the reader remains anxious to see what she will do next,  eager to see her outcome.  And eager to see how it will make herself feel.

If you plant a seed and water it you will see it grow.  Will it develop into a sunflower, tall and bright and strong, swaying steadily in the summer breeze?  Or will it grow into a relentless vine of poison ivy, hiding under the trees, tricking us into rubbing against it, to receive its pain.  Which will  our seed become?

When we, as writers, plant the seed of our story ,watering it with our words, we watch it develop over time, working hard to make sure that  it survives the storms of our self doubts, that it thrives under the sunshine of our creativity and perseverance. Whether it starts out with flaws, thorns sprouting on its stalks as obstacles to overcome or without blemish, perfectly shaped and smoothed, unprepared for a potential downfall, we hope our readers remain loyal, turning the pages eagerly.  Wanting to know how it will turn out, which plant it will grow into, our readers must dangle in suspense.

Our characters, like our readers and like people in general, are born, nourished and grow.  They journey through hardships and happiness, developing continuously, making mistakes and producing successes as they go.  And for those of us who watch them, whether it be the family and friends of a person, or the readers of our character, feeling the suspense keeps our blood running and our hopes up.  And like the sunflower and the poison ivy who are watered and nourished along the way, our characters will become who they are meant to be, joyful or painful, blossoming in their own unique beauty for everyone to see.

Remember in school when sometimes we were told to start an essay with a question.  “Debate an issue” our teachers would tell us.  “Present both sides of the argument and your essay will flow from there”.   Perhaps we chose to write about abortion or adoption or euthanasia.  We could start our essay with a question like  ” If your mother  was suffering greatly and begged to be given enough medication to put her out of  misery since her days were limited anyway, would you take part in ending her life?”  An interesting essay would incorporate both sides of the argument, even though you were supposed to hold true to your own view.

Many of the discussions we engage in at dinner parties, holiday gatherings or at any social gathering involve theories of good versus evil, science versus religion, the psychological make up that drives a person. Those are philosophical topics that we question every day.  Perfect subjects to argue.

In The July 2014 The Writer magazine, Roger S. Gottlieb says in his excellent article ” The Big Questions”,  that the philosophical meaning of a person’s life is just as important  in helping our characters to  leap off the page as describing how they look or sound, what emotions they feel such as hate or jealousy or joy and how they grow through the story ( he says          “what happens to them -growth and change, rise and fall, challenge, defeat or victory.)

He tells us that although many readers or critics will say fiction is about life, not ideas, and “certainly not about the rarefied abstractions people suffer in Philosophy 101″, he disagrees with that opinion.  And I agree with his opinion!

I agree when he says ” the most important writing has a philosophical dimension.”  What IS real?  What IS true? What IS good or important? How should I live?  Aren’t these the questions behind truly great writing? ”  YES  I say!  YES, YES, YES!

Mr. Gottlieb warns us,however; that the arguments are not just laid out word for word by the writer; the questions and answers emerge from the setting, character and plot thereby weaving the story.

” One reason philosophical fiction is so powerful is that the beliefs in question are held by “real people”- distinct individuals who live in particular social settings, inhabit personal histories and undergo traumatic or liberation experiences and make critical choices from which they do or do not learn.  Your task is to show how the particular philosophical position the character has, whether it’s an explicit belief or a value that is lived without being thought about much, is rooted in that character’s reality. Furthermore, you can craft a narrative in which philosophical development or learning is essential.”

We have all been taught that the key to creating a great story: one that  will “hook” the reader is to make our audience empathize or relate to our characters.  If we are able to reveal the way it FEELS to be one of those characters, to connect the reader to the experiences of our characters we are able to draw her in to explore questions of morality, human nature, social justice, truth, evil or other philosophical issues.  But, keep in mind, if we are to bring up a question -we should know where WE stand on  it in order to persuade or engage the reader , whether we are in favor or against the issue.

Mr. Gottlieb adds ”  allow the reader to trust the good faith reasoning of each side and leave us with a deepened understanding of a painful dilemma rather than just the cold comfort of the “right” position.”  Wow.  Now that is the basis of great writing.

After all, our feelings are intimately tied to what we think.   “Our most intense feelings are connected to our most deeply held philosophical visions of justice and value.”  I keep this in mind as I work on my own novel;  the actions of my characters are directly tied to their thoughts  and subsequently their feelings and I must be careful to thread that in and out  throughout each thing they say and do and think.  A great story is sewn out of connecting the reader to the thoughts and feelings of the characters, therefore, our task as writers is to keep showing how the character is thinking and how that thinking contributes to their emotions, ultimately resulting in their actions.

Don’t we all have issues we care about in the world that drive us in all that we do?  Don’t our own philosophies and beliefs contribute to how and who we choose to connect with; the friendships, relationships, jobs we choose.  What we think drives us.  And when we develop characters who imitate  how we think and feel, we not only create great fiction but we enrich the lives of our audiences and of our own.

In fiction, creating conflict is key in producing a great story, one that readers will find difficult, if not impossible, to put down. Described as a crash between at least two sides, or a struggle for power, property or something else, conflict reaps drama.  Without drama there is no interest.  My goal and the goal of most writers is to ultimately change the world or an aspect of it in some way.  By connecting with readers one by one to change how they feel or think – for  the better- which dominoes outward, spreading across society faster than a cold virus during the dead of winter, we reach that goal.  And yes, we write to entertain and perhaps ultimately make some money, but that comes later.

Aristotle said that ” the idea is to create emotion and then catharsis, thus making our audience better citizens”.  By creating inner conflict that the readers relate to or sympathize with, we attain that.

In James Scott Bell’s book ” Conflict and Suspense”, he discusses this idea of Parent / Adult and Child roles as tools to help us create conflict in our dialogue.  “We tend to occupy three primary roles in life and relationships: Parent, Adult and Child (PAC).   THE PARENT is the seat of authority, the one who can “lay down the law”.  He  (or she- a’hem ) has the raw strength, from position or otherwise, to rule and then enforce his rulings.” ( Or at least in my case, to try our best!)

He continues with “THE ADULT is the objective one, the one who sees things rationally and is therefore the best one to analyze a situation. Finally, there is the CHILD.  Not rational, and not without any real power.  So what” he asks ” does the child do? Reacts emotionally. Throws tantrums to try to get his way.  Even an adult can do this”.

What Mr. Bell is so eloquently trying to say is that the writer must figure out which role each of his characters is going to play in each scene.  How are they actually acting versus how they see themselves as acting.  How will they act in order to accomplish their goals ?  He explains that writers must work that into the dialogue so that each character is assertive in that role.  But he reminds us that we must keep it tight and natural while moving our story forward.

In life, don’t we all take on each of these roles at different times, jumping from one role to another depending on the situation. Sometimes remaining in one role for a longer duration?  How many times have we gotten ourselves tangled up emotionally because of someone else taking on the child role, throwing a tantrum ( arguing irrationally, withdrawing from us, not communicating ,withholding something or a piece of themselves, etc) or even worse, because we have taken on that role of a child ourselves.

Drama comes from conflict and we have all created it or reacted to it in some way at some point capitulating us into a tragedy or  new strength or possibly both.  Personally, I have always believed strongly in  the saying “What does not kill us will make us stronger”.  This applies to our characters as well.  Conflict may lead our character to her  death, whether physical, psychological or professional, or it may make her stronger if she is victorious in her struggle , but at the very least by the end of the story the conflict will leave the reader feeling affected. And we can only hope it will be for the better, spreading quickly.