Peter de Vries, novelist and satirist, said, "Every novel should have a beginning, a muddle, and an end." The muddle is the conflict. It’s what drives the plot and turns a recitation of facts into a story. Conflict arises when forces or desires are in opposition. It can be man against man, man against nature, man against himself, or man against God, with all kinds of variations. The purpose of fiction is to arouse the reader’s emotions. This requires conflict. The reader must care. Put a character the reader likes or cares about in a bad situation and it will create interest. The great writers know this. Elmore Leonard said, “Aim for the heart.” William Faulkner (Nobel prize acceptance speech) said, “The only thing worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat, is the heart in conflict with itself.” Conflict may also be called the problem, thwarted desire, opposition, or similar names. Without it, the story will be boring. Without conflict, there is no story. C...

Photo by Cara Lopez Lee A word is not reality. It’s a metaphor for reality. So, in a way, every word is a story. Just open a dictionary and look up any word: pronunciation, part of speech, definitions, usage, origin, and whatever else your dictionary tells you. Let’s try it with “sentient” and the American Heritage Dictionary: Sentient (sĕn ’ shənt, -shē-ənt) adj. 1) Having sense perception; conscious: “The living knew themselves just sentient puppets on God’s stage” (T.E. Lawrence). 2) Experiencing sensation or feeling. [Latin sentiēns, sentient-, present participle of sentīre, to feel…] According to Merriam-Webster , the first known use of “sentient” was in 1632. Every word has a history. Each word we personally know also has a history within us. To me, “sentient” is the story of HAL 9000, the self-aware computer who killed astronaut Frank Poole and tried to kill David Bowman, in the book and movie 2001: A Space Odyssey . “Sentient” calls up the chilling momen...

Nobody likes rejections, but we all get them. If you're a writer, you get them by the truckload. You get them from your critique group. Readers and judges of contests give you low scores or write mean-spirited or positive, but disheartening comments. When you start querying out your manuscript, you get rejected by agents. If you finally get an agent, then you get the pleasure of being rejected by editors. Your book gets published, and then it seems like the critics are out for blood. Even with good reviews, readers reject you, sometimes on world-wide bulletin boards or chat services, sometimes when you're sitting at a table in a store and hardly anyone even makes eye contact, let alone comes over. Book stores reject you--they don't want you for a signing, or you show up for a signing and they forgot to order copies of your book. And on and on. Constant, never-ending rejection. Why Do We Do This To Ourselves? Excuse me. Did I say that aloud? What I meant to say was: Reje...

A number of years ago I belonged to a writers' group that was a wonderful source of good critiques and strong support. It was a mix of published and unpublished writers, but no matter what side of the fence any one stood on, the dedication to writing was the same. One of the things we always did at our annual Holiday party was to write down three writing-related goals for the coming year. The goals had to be specific and significant, like finishing a work in progress, acquiring an agent, or selling a book. We would all write down our goals, then put the papers in an envelope that was sealed to be opened the following year. Then we would open the envelope from the year before. It was always interesting and enlightening to read what we had written and report on how well we had achieved those goals. Some of us did much better than others, but I found that writing the goals down, knowing they would be shared in 12 months, made me work harder toward achieving them. I haven't d...