Brinkhurst.com

“That’s it,” Jessica exclaimed.

“What?”

“That’s the restaurant,” she says.

“Where?”

“Right there,” she says.

I see what looks like a house in the middle of some downtown shops. The house is right next to a bakery that doesn’t use white flour or white sugar in anything and an overpriced toy store for stupid rich people’s children.

“The house?”

“Yeah, you’re going to love it,” she says.

We went inside and there were tables in just about every room, except for the living room, where the buffet was housed.

“Hello. Table for two?” the waitress asks.

“Please,” I respond.

The waitress looks to be about 60 years of age. She doesn’t look run down or tired at all, just happy. Even though it can’t be much past 7am, she greets us with genuine happiness. She is actually happy we are here.

“Would you like tea or coffee?” the waitress asks me.

“Can I please have some orange juice?” I respond.

The waitress looks at Jessica and smiles. She then starts to walk away without getting Jessica’s drink order.

“Two OJs coming up,” the waitress says.

“So how do you know her?” I ask Jessica.

“Who, the waitress?” Jessica asks

“Yes. Although, I suspect she probably owns the place,” I respond.

“You pick up on things fast. She is the owner,” Jessica says.

“Interesting. Are you going to tell me how you know her?”

“Well, I do come here a lot,” Jessica says.

“Yeah, but this isn’t the kind of place you would frequent. It’s nice, but I get the feeling that you’re more of a rushed person who lives on a schedule. If you come here a lot, it’s because you want to see the owner. It’s not the opposite. You don’t know the owner because you come here often.”

Jessica played with my hands and didn’t really say anything else about the woman serving us. She just looked at me and smiled with her eyes. She truly loves me.

It’s that weird time of day, on this Tuesday morning, where someone old enough to be an adult but young enough to still be able to party would just be driving home to go to sleep. He would be at a red light, and he would spot someone in the car next to him who is older than his grandfather. The older gentleman is beginning his day, getting a fresh start. They are both at the light for different reasons, yet neither of them is any hurry, and they both sit there, reflecting on what brought them there at the same time of day.

“What do you think brought us together?” Jessica asks me.

“Physical attraction.”

“You think the only reason we are together is physical attraction?” Jessica asks.

“No. I think it’s what brought us together though. I think wit, interest, and adventure is keeping us going.”

“What about destiny? What about kismet?” Jessica asks.

“Do you believe in that stuff?”

“I’d like to,” Jessica says.

“I know that I like you, and I know that’s enough for me,” I said.

“Yes. I suppose that’s enough for me too.”

“I would love to think that some higher power hooked us up for a reason, but if I believe that we were predestined to meet each other, I then have to believe that the same cosmic power offed my family so that we could be going to breakfast together.”

“Can’t some things be fate and others not be fate?” Jessica asks.

“I don’t know. I think everything’s random.”

If you are omniscient like some narrators, you see all and know all. Let’s look at the different types of narrators and discuss. There are three basic types of narrators.

1. First Person – a narrator who is also a character in the story.
2. Second Person – a narrator who makes the reader a character in the story.
3. Third Person – a narrator who sees the story but is not a part of it.

First Person

Usually a first person narrative is not omniscient. Since the narrator is in the story, it is more common that she would only be able to tell you about what is going on in front of her. In some cases, you would get a first person omniscient narrator. Since this narrator sees all, she could tell you about what is in front of her and what is going on when she is not around. See the two First Person examples below.

Not Omnicient
I see Henry and Jane walking into the washroom together; they shut the door behind them, and I am stuck outside, hoping they are not doing what I think they are doing.

Omnicient
I see Henry and Jane walking into the washroom together; they shut the door behind them, and I am stuck outside. Henry grabs Jane by the hips, and she thrusts herself towards him. He is a bit rough, grabbing her face and pulling it towards him. She motions towards him, about to kiss him, but then she grabs the hair on the back of his head and pushes him down to his knees, and I will forever be devastated.

Second Person

Second Person narrative can’t be omniscient, since the reader can’t know all and see all. See the Second Person omniscient free example below.

Not Omnicient
You see Henry and Jane walking into the washroom together; they shut the door behind them, and you are stuck outside, hoping they are not doing what you think they are doing.

Third Person

Usually a Third Person narrative is omniscient. Since the narrator is in the story, it is more common that she would be able to tell you about everything in the story. In some cases, you would get a third person narrator who is not omniscient. See the two Third Person examples below.

Not Omnicient
Henry and Jane are walking into the washroom together; they shut the door behind them. Who knows what is going on behind those doors?

Omnicient
Henry and Jane are walking into the washroom together; they shut the door behind them. Henry grabs Jane by the hips, and she thrusts herself towards him. He is a bit rough, grabbing her face and pulling it towards him. She motions towards him, about to kiss him, but then she grabs the hair on the back of his head and pushes him down to his knees.

As a writer, you can take the reader anywhere you want. You can hide things from her or let her know everything. I think it is the narrator’s job to tell the truth to the reader. This may be the truth as believed by the narrator, but not actual truth. In other words, don’t allow the narrator to lie to the reader, but there is no reason that your narrator can’t mislead your reader into believing something else.

If your narrator goes through an entire story making the reader believe that someone is a man, when in fact that person is female, it is fine, as long as the narrator did not expressly tell the reader that the person is male, all the while knowing the truth. If the narrative character lies to other characters, causing the reader to believe the untruth, that is all right too. The reader should feel as though they can trust the narrator when the narrator is speaking to them, but the reader is savvy enough to know that people lie, and you can’t trust everything that happens in a story.

Do have any thoughts that you would like to share on this?

If you want everyone to think you’re sexy and stylish, work on the form of your sentences.

Sometimes we write sentences in what seems to be the most logical manner. What if we could move a few words around in the sentence in order to improve the readability and excitement of the story?

Let’s try this.

I can feel the warm sunlight on my skin.

Or this.

My skin feels the warm sunlight.

Or this.

The sunlight is warm; I can feel it on my skin.

The goal here is to use the appropriate sentence for what you are writing about. There isn’t one sentence above that is better than another. In the first example, you are telling the reader first about how you feel. This could be appropriate if you were talking about emotions.

The second example focuses first on your skin. If this were a sensual moment in your story, you could talk about nude sunbathing and your skin.

The third example focuses on the sun. If it is a nice day for the first time in a week, this might be the appropriate sentence.

The key here to improving your form is to think, with every sentence you write, about the context and the goal of your sentence.

Your thoughts?

Is it really important for you to have climax in every single story you read? As many of you already know from English class in high school, the critical parts of a story are rising action, climax, and falling action.

If your story removes the climax but still has a rise and fall, that is where the reader yawns. If I invest my time into reading a big build up only to have it fall without that big exciting moment, what’s the point? I don’t want to go right from conflict to resolution; I want some really “edge of your seat” stuff to happen in between.

If I remove the rising action and falling action, which means that there is no build up to the conflict and no slope at the end of it, I can create a story that is 100% “edge of your seat.” That is hard to write, exciting for the reader but hard to write. As a writer, you will have to figure out how to explain the conflict that lead up to this point without slowing down the action to get there. You could resort to flash backs, but . . . yeah, LAME. You also want to give your reader a sense of finality at the end of the story. The reader wants some sort of end, even if it is the “good guy” dieing.

I’m not sold on the idea that there are really compelling stories without any sort of climax at all, but I don’t think that a story requires a strategic rise and fall action. For my two cents, I think every story needs the 3 following.

1. Conflict
2. Climax
3. Resolution

Interesting stories often put those three elements in a different order, sometimes cutting them up and spreading them out. For instance, you might start a story with the resolution, as with American Beauty, which was then followed by the conflict then the climax, and the resolution was repeated and fully flushed out at the end.

What are your thoughts on story telling? Does there have to be a formula at all?

The thrill and suspense of the chase is enough to keep anyone on the edge of her seat. Even though we are talking about books, not movies, the chase scene can still be very exciting. What if we tried this?

I see a car behind me. It seems as though it has been following for a while. I speed up to see if he continues to follow. The more I speed up, the more he stays on my bumper. I turn off the main streets onto a rural road, going as fast as my car will carry me. The car behind me is honking and flashing its bright lights. I see an intersection ahead, slamming on my breaks for a sharp left turn where I almost spin out of control.

He follows, without ever wavering, still honking and flashing lights. I’m in the middle of nowhere. How do I get away, what does he even want. My old muscle car is no match for the high performance machine behind me. It corners better and goes faster. I hear shots ring out, and I’m coming up to a red light.  I hammer the pedal down as far as it will go, but it makes no difference. I can almost feel the friction of the car behind me.

There’s only one answer. I slam on my breaks, and the car behind folds up into itself like a pop can.

I have read good chase scenes, and the key is to describe every twist and turn. Make your reader feel that they are being chased.

What do you think?

In stories, someone who carries out an act of bravery, without any obvious personal reason to do so can create an important connection with the reader. The hero of a story either becomes the person you want to be or the person you want to be with. Either way, it creates a wonderful fantasy that can captivate a reader. In short, it builds “sick street cred.” Your hero can take your reader through the rest of the story, and the reader is happy to follow because they just love the hero so much.

What if we try a scenario like this.

I am a little lost. I am supposed to meet Sandra at some farm. We are going to go on the haunted wagon ride and buy some pumpkin pies. I doubt that I can get her to go in the haunted house. She may be 29, but she is terrified of the dark and people who threaten her with chain saws. Why do I always get lost? Why did I take Sandra’s ridiculously bad directions to some farm in the middle of nowhere? I see a farm ahead; it is the first sign of civilization that I have seen in 20 minutes. This place is very secluded, and it doesn’t seem to have any of the signs of a haunted ride or tons of city people parking their cars in an empty corn field. I’ll stop and ring the door bell. I hope someone is home. Nobody is answering the door, but I hear screams coming from the barn. Maybe I am at the right place. Perhaps I came into the farm at the wrong entrance. I’ll just go to the barn and ask where I can pay admission.

In the barn, I see a woman strapped to the wall with a dirty old rag in her mouth, fastened in with duct tape. Her eyes don’t have that sexy thrill of Halloween in them. I see genuine fear. She is missing a clump of hair from her head. This is real. Further in the barn, there is a man with some sort of circular saw standing over a woman who is laying on a table. She too looks bruised and beaten. This barn of horrors is missing the fun and sex appeal of Halloween. It is isn’t even scary. It is just crazy and disturbing. Instead of being the kind of place that makes you lock your doors at night, it’s the kind of place that makes you wish you didn’t live in a world like this. This just isn’t Halloween. It’s real. It’s real.

The man sees me and shuts off his saw. He walks over to me, pulling a butcher’s knife out of his belt. He is a bit smaller than I am, and he is not in very good shape, but I’m not trained in any sort of hand to hand combat, and this guy is about to carve me up like a piece of meat. Think fast.

“I love your haunted house. Where is the main entrance anyway? I haven’t paid my admission yet.”

“Haunted house?”

“Yes this is the haunted house on route 32, right?”

The woman on the table was screaming, getting louder and louder.

The man looks at me; he knows that I know.

“You come to my farm, off route 34, askin bout some tourist place on 32. Nobody gets that lost. Who sent you?”

I got that lost. Think fast, faster.

“OK, you got me. I saw you one time outside your farm. I saw the look in your eyes. With that one look. I could tell who you were. We can always tell our own kind. I followed you back to the farm but never came to visit. This is my first visit, and I’m so happy I was right. Please let me help you. Let me cut her, just a bit.”

“Who the hell are you?”

He runs at me with the knife, holding it to my neck. I can’t show him that I’m nervous. I can’t show my fear.

“I am you. I am just like you. Don’t you see? God brought us together. He brought us together to cleanse the Earth. We can do this. We can do this together.”

“No God sent you here.”

“Look into my eyes. You can see that we are the same. Look deeper. You will see. We can always tell our own kind. Look even deeper. Do you see now? Do you see that God wants us together?”

The woman strapped to the wall isn’t buying it. Her eyes have lost the horrible sense of terror. It has been replaced with hope. She sees my big, innocent, blue eyes. They couldn’t possibly look anymore innocent than they do. The man pulls the knife back and jabs it towards my throat. I’m getting ready for the collapse, but there is nothing. I feel nothing. I look down and see that he has jabbed the handle into my throat. He must have flipped the knife around before thrusting it forward.

“I see,” he says.

I take the knife from him.

He continues: “finish her like the pig she is.”

“I will. I will.”

I walk towards her with the knife. I look at her in the eyes and say: “someone has to die.”

Holding the knife high above her body I stand there and wait. The man comes close to me, puts his hand on my shoulder, like a father might do to a son.

“It’s her time. Go ahead. I’ve prepared her for you.”

I sweep the knife towards him. Stabbing him as hard as I can. I just aim for his body, hoping I don’t miss.

“No. It’s your time.”

He tries to pull the knife out, but he just collapses to the ground. I untie the woman on the table, but she doesn’t move. She just lies there shivering with the man’s blood sprayed across her body. Her eyes are soulless and dead. The woman on the wall has a relieved look on her face. Her humanity still exists, but like the woman on the table, I feel as though mine is lost. I am untieing the woman on the wall, taking the gag from her mouth. She hugs me and looks at my eyes, but I have trouble looking back at her’s.

“You are a my hero.”

“I just killed a man.”

Our character here is identifiable. A bit of an every-person that turned into an hero. This is the type of scenario that gets me interested and makes me want to read more.

How about you?

Take control of your writing and be an active writer. It is easy to do, and it is much better for the reader. The reader follows your story, so you need to be in control and lead them in the right direction, so don’t be passive.

Take a look at these examples.

Passive

While robbing the bank, the gun was shot by Tom.

Active

While robbing the bank, Tom shot the gun.

The passive voice feels harder to read. It is more confusing and less exciting. The active voice interests me; it makes me want to know why Tom shot the gun, what he was thinking. The passive voice makes me think about the gun, and I don’t really have a lot of questions surround that.

Always try to use the active voice, unless impossible. Your readers will thank you.

What do you think?

Your fiction title might be the most important bit of writing you do. Yes, you might have 300 pages of the best damn novel ever written, but without a good title, who would even read it in the first place?

Let us think about a scenario where we set out to write a short story about an Evil Monkey, so before we write the story, we title it “The Evil Monkey.” It is a compelling enough title, if I am setting out to read some type of horror story. Although the title comes first in your work, it is the very last thing that you should ever write. You can’t properly title your work without writing it first.

Writing a title before  a story is risky. What if you change your mind about the evil monkey and decide that it is nothing more than an insane man’s hallucination? The monkey gets killed off using the right combination of pharmaceuticals, and the crazy hallucinatory fellow regains his stability. The whole story can now be built around the crazy guy and his inability to fit into society with his new rational mind. If you had to write the story around the title, would you be thinking “how does the evil monkey fit in”?

My recommendation is to always write the title last. It is good to plan a story around a concept, but there is no reason to commit to a title before you really know what the story is about.

Now that you have written your story and it has been decided that the crazy man can’t make it through life, you can use the monkey as a metaphor for the man’s insanity and struggle. Your main character, sadly, kills himself at the end of the story, jarring your reader and making an award winning story. Perhaps at this point, you realize that your title should be “Kill the Monkey.”

What do you think?