Emotional Investment and Return

When reading fiction, we look for one of two things (but probably two of two things): mental or emotional stimulation. I suppose there is spiritual, but that's generally classified into a different category. How good a book is hinges on the accumulation of mental and emotional points.

Now, all authors excel at some things and...excel less at others. Some are quite good at making magic with words (like Patrick Rothfuss). Others weave the plot so perfectly that you're reeling for days after you finish a book (like Brandon Sanderson). Others have many cool devices that keep you interested (like sci-fi). Most of these things accrue mental points during the reading. The prose that makes you think. The plot that blows your mind. The devices that intrigue. The political structures. The worldbuilding.

But there's another category in which to score points. This happens when you build compelling characters and convince us of how they react in a situation. Make us fall in love with that girl your protagonist is falling in love with. Make us laugh when a side character does something characteristically silly. Make us cry when loss occurs. Make us furious when the enemy prevails. Make us glory when the protagonist succeeds. Make us feel.

Here's the thing. Every book that you start reading is an investment. An investment of time and emotion. I'm committing to spending maybe ten hours with these characters; they had better well make my investment worth it!

Which brings me to the main point I want to make: POV character deaths. Let me describe exactly what an author does when s/he kills off a POV character. If you've done it right, I've developed an emotional bond with this person. If you've done it right, I'll be devastated when it happens. I might accept that it needed to happen, but that won't make me any less distraught.

Killing off a POV character, specifically the protagonist, is like having a spouse die or divorce you. It's someone you've grown to love, now they're gone forever. For POV characters with less ink to their names, it's like dating someone you love and getting broken up with. It's an important and powerful literary device and can be used very well and to great acclaim.

But imagine this: you start dating someone, even fall in love with them, but you're almost 100% positive they're going to break up with you. That might be okay once. You can take that emotional battering. But imagine there's a slew people waiting to date then break up with you. You're not going to want to go through that turmoil.

It's the same with killing off characters. If you kill off nearly every character you write, I'm getting crappy returns on my emotional investments. It's a tool, but like any tool, it can be over used. It can be the emotional analog to building up to a great climax, and then finishing with a lame cop out. I'm not going to want to read 200 pages about a ton of characters if I know they're just going to die at the end.

Just because something is realistic doesn't mean it's worth writing about. People browsing the internet for hours a day is real, but it would make a crappy book.

This post may or may not have been an A Song of Ice and Fire rant in disguise.

Phelps' Miscalculation

An obscure tidbit that you as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints may have heard is that "Joseph Smith said that an eternity is 2.555 billion years long." I heard this again the other day, so I instigated an investigation. Christopher C. Smith, he exposes the origins of this idea in a 2008 blog post. Apparently the number comes from Times and Seasons, the Church's periodical at the time (1844). W. W. Phelps sent a letter to William Smith that was reproduced in the January 1st edition. The paragraph of concern is

[E]ternity, agreeably to the records found in the catacombs of Egypt, has been going on in this system, (not this world) almost two thousand five hundred and fifty five millions of years: and to know at the same time, that deists, geologists and others are trying to prove that matter must have existed hundreds of thousands of years;-it almost tempts the flesh to fly to God, or muster faith like Enoch to be translated and see and know as we are seen and known! (empasis added)

 Bruce R. McConkie quoted this figure in a 1987 speech given at BYU. It was written about in the Mormon Interpreter. So where did this number come from, and does it even make sense?

Look at the universe.

All analysts seem to agree that W. W. Phelps took the statements in Peter and Abraham that 1000 years on Earth is but a day to the Lord, the statement in D&C 77 that the Earth has 7000 years of temporal existence, and the fact that a terrestrial year consists of approximately 365 days, and derived a value from these. 1000*7000*365 = 2.555E9, precisely the number Phelps states. But let's perform unit analysis on this.

1000 Earth years	x 7000 Kolob years x	365 Kolob days	= 2.555E9 Earth years
1 Kolob day		1 Kolob year

Seems kosher, right? Not. There are a few grievous assumptions made in this calculation. First, there is no way of know how many years are in a Kolob year. Even in our own solar system you have planets whose years range from 0.24 to 248.1 Earth years (if you include Pluto). A planet that orbits our sun called Sedna has a year of around 12,000 Earth years. At is aphelion, it's over 900 times father from the sun than Earth is. So assuming a 365-day Kolob year is erroneous when most planets in existence vary from this.

Second false assumption, 7000 Kolob years. First, the 7000 number comes from D&C 77:6 where it's said that the 7 seals on the book that John the Beloved saw are the seven thousand years of the Earth's temporal existence. It further states that only about 6000 of those years have passed, so even if the calculation was accurate, you'd have to replace 7000 Kolob years with 6000. Reading the actual revelation of John reveals characteristics of each of the seals that are identifiable with historical events. The 7000 years are clearly referring to Earth years. It's silly to start assuming every period of time given in the scriptures are not what it appears. That would imply that the Millennium is going to be 365 million Earth years long, the same length as each of the seals.

Another issue. The creation story begins with the Earth; it doesn't touch upon previous events. In Moses 1:35 God says, "There are many worlds that have passed away by the word of my power." He's made countless worlds like Earth that have already passed through existence. If this universe is about 14 billion years old and the Earth 4.5, God's been around a lot longer than Phelp's calculation proposes. And He hasn't done anything that disagrees with what we observe. If we find proof that the Earth is 4.5E9 years old, then goshdarnit, that's when God made it. 

But proof is hard to find. Evidence is easier. You can draw multiple conclusions from evidence. You can only draw one (sound) conclusion from proof. People will debate how to interpret collected data. I am currently quite convinced on the dating of the Earth and universe.

To Letchera: A Nonsense Poem

I started this a while ago but just finished it last night. It's inspired by Lewis Carroll's Jaberwocky. I don't know whether I'll rework it at some point in the future. Hope you like it!

I sopped a bit of bintle in my ebolestic broth,
Though frettled at the farlow that the spintel fellow quoth,
"'Tis lomesy and bewretched whence we letcherants do roam,
The meanest apocarthy wouldn't dare our crembous home.
The alkaline distincture and the lepazani tare
Categorize and extincture proseletics do beware.
Curcudgeon though a phalanx might through frome and slaken dust,
The legion’s mallegoric crow would pitter in the crust."

I tarrowed as I heard the laird escape the fellow's jaw,
Proposity seized and I abbreaved the challenge he laid askraw.
"To haunt an eng toward the same ascriptions you've applayed
Has always been surriliquous, a passion that abade.
So if you chantly danter and consent to be my guide,
To morrow neath a curbid dawn, to Letchera we ride."
Thus two hands struck a crimping twee that eve in Coelath Bray.
We nestled then in giltered dreams as darkness crept astray.

To aft a fortnight of a sudden lingered rife with prints,
And there astride the edgelands skriggled out my frame a wince.
The beasts that bear our burdens tarrowed treadless at the frome;
We lighted of and sauntered in whence letcherants do roam.
“Beware,” said he, “the craddleswee.” And motioned to the dirt.
A flint of fang betrayed the same, a grithing beast alert.
“And fear,” he said, “the straffoged. ‘Twill nay but feed ye death.”
I spied it gripping fast a branch and twithered out a breath.

Of time diurnal or nocturnal no sign I apprehended,
‘Twas a fortnight out from Coelath Bray the sun had last ascended.
The lomesy dank enthronged us so, it leckered in my skin,
And nigh a corpse, with fainting pulse, the destert cough began.
I hearkened half-hearted ‘tween haken hacks to hear the howl of Harn,
The echos embearing a promise that my passing would be warm.
‘Twas all for vain, my eared strains, the yowl not once arose—
Least from the throat of Harn—but me, I howled whilst in remose.

Through hacks and twithering, porous yowls, bemoaned I every second,
Adjuring time to wander back then fail at being reckoned.
“O, currish day in Coelath Bray,” I was so wont to groan.
My sevid guide of Letchera would gander me and done,
“Ye fromey, stanched Gevatheran, ‘twas ye what forced me here!
Ye’ll swiftly feed the craddleswee, and dust shall be yer bier.
I’m brisling o’er with all yer fuss, so twain a choice I lay,
Ye kinter tight yer lips anon, or skraw straight back to Bray!”

So on we strode, our pace unlenting, driven by depravity,
Body ‘long with thoughts yon deeper into obfuscavity.
The bractle waste disumed my flesh and dribbled on my soul;
A baling knell in the hintermind, droned death at each a toll.
The anguish tore me straight and savage, hope was but remote,
I teetered off the brink and wailed a blade out of my throat.
A grisled hand clamped o’er my mouth, and harshly spat my guide,
“You’ve sentenced us, Gevatheran. We’ve functerally died!”

He conjured strength from realms unknown to Gevaths such as I,
And darting ‘tween great palls of gloom, defined the verb ‘to fly.’
I stippled off in idle chase, dread heelnips from from a foe,
To my request for motion rejured back my body, “No.”
My drasted yelp of agony belied our dire state,
‘Twas answered by the craddleswee and teeth preclined to sate.
So there I lay, my folly oozing, pining after home,
My final breath a twithered sigh with lips upon the frome.

Making the Cut and Fictional Hormesis

Book lengths, who doesn't complain about them? I sure do. Sometimes they're too short, but I mostly find myself labeling them as too long. How useful and valid are such statements?

I thought of addressing this topic when I came across this statement in a two-star review of the Mistborn trilogy by Brandon Sanderson:

At around 700 pages per book, Sanderson (or his editors) got really bad at separating what's necessary for storytelling from pointless drivel. In book 2, for example, the first 500 pages could be summed up as city under siege, Eland is a philosopher and not a ruler, gets overthrown.

First off, I'm always interested in reading the contrary side of things. If I liked a book, it helps me understand people better by learning why they didn't. Same for any political of religious issue. I think a certain way, so what is it that convinces you to think otherwise? But sentence 2 quoted above clearly shows the reviewer's lack of understanding of prose.

You see, every single book that you read can be summarized. But that's not the point. No one doing leisure reading just wants the summary. It's all about engrossing yourself in the plot and going through experiences with the characters. When I read the line city under siege, I really don't give a hoot about it. But when I read the book and I know the characters, it comes alive and I feel a portion of what they (theoretically) went through. That's the power of prose.

But certainly there's a point where it becomes too much. I found myself thinking this as I read Name of the Wind by Partick Rothfuss. I definitely enjoyed the book, but I felt as if a little too much time was spent on unnecessary description. I think I would have enjoyed the book a fair amount more had it been 100 or so pages shorter. It would still be over 600 pages long, but the story would move just a bit faster.

In the end, it's up to the writer to decide when the story is far too pregnant or barren. That's a good way to think of it. I've read some stories that were so pregnant I got morning sickness. I'm just sitting there thinking give birth already! But at the same time, you can strip any story down until it's just a plot summary. There are things that I write that don't straightway contribute to the plot, but they contribute to the overall experience. A good author knows when the threshold is crossed where these ancillary anecdotes start detracting. This is called hormesis, or the too much of a good thing model. Figure out how it works.

Word Count Creep

Writing a book can be is a daunting task. Depending on your goal, you have anywhere between 50,000 to 400,000 words to type when crossing the threshold of your journey (hopefully you have the decency to constrain your prose to a length not too much higher than that). It's easy at any step in the process to lose momentum and become swamped. I want to talk about some of the writing cairns and how to get past them.

Initial Word Count Goal

I'm a numbers-oriented person. I like to have a goal in mind when embarking on most any endeavor. I think it's important for any writer to have a ballpark on their total word count. Some people may find this irrelevant and take care of it in editing, but I often prefer pre-editing over post-editing. Anything I can do to reduce work on the tail end is beneficial.

The way that I got a ballpark for my first book was precisely by looking up word counts of novels that I had read. Out of interest, here's a list of some popular book word counts. Another thing I took into account was the industry recommendations. Here's a page with a good meter.

Important also is whether you are debuting or returning to the scene. When people pick up a Dan Brown book they think, "I've read/heard of his books. I'll give this one a shot." When people see a Benny Hinrichs novel they think, "Cover's not terrible. I wonder if he's related to Jimmy Hendrix." Two different reactions. Reading a novel takes time (probably at least 10 hours). You have to convince people that your words are worth that time investment, and most people will shy away from a thick, bludgeoning tome from an unknown author.

Of interest: I wanted my first book to be somewhere between 90,000 to 105,000 words long. It turned out to be 101,000. I only achieved that by outlining and estimating.

Progress Spurs Progress

Another driving principle is that progress inspires progress. It takes hundreds of small victories to write 100,000 words. I keep a spreadsheet of my chapter word count. Every time I finish a chapter, I note the date and length along with a running total. Here's the spreadsheet of my word counts for Schools of Thought. The first time you hit 1,000 words, you think, "Wow, that wasn't all that bad. I can do that a few more times." Pretty soon you've laid out 5,000. Then 10, 20, 50, 100. Knowing that you've already accomplished something will drive you to accomplish something else.

You should find a progress monitoring method that jives with you. I do word count by chapters. Another idea is progress by event or scene (like you're shooting a movie). For that you need to have a pretty good outline.

Working Word Count Goal

Another trick of the trade that helps me immensely is a working word quota. That is, in x amount of time I will produce y number of words. My current working word quota is 2500/week. I like to use the week increment rather than day or month because it gives me enough time to do it without giving me too much time to do it.

Parkinson's law states that work will expand to fill time available for its completion. If I saw that I'll do 2500 words in a week, I may do all those on Saturday, but it gets done. If I say I'm going to do 500 words a day, I have a higher possibility of missing that goal due to other obligations. That will lead to writing depression and will encourage me to miss future goals. If I say I'm going to do 12,000 words a month, I'll inevitably go a whole week or two without writing anything. Suddenly I have to write 6,000 words a week  for two weeks straight. It's too onerous. Just as progress incites further progress, failure incites further failure. Thus my 2500/week.

Conclusion

Small victories win large wars. Set realistic goals and meet them! I'd like to add here that outlining will help everything. Maybe I say this because I'm not as much of a discovery writer, but I truly believe it. If I already know what's going to happen in a chapter, it's so much easier to write. Same holds true for a book. If you know where you're going, it'll be easier to get there.

The Kindle Relents, Lets Oneironauts In

I could try to get you to believe how difficult making my book into Kindle material was, but I know you don't like unsolicited preaching as much as the next guy. Suffice it to say, I had a wild ride getting this thing to work. The biggest hurdle is the lack of documentation. Amazon apparently expects the majority of people to upload a document file then let their algorithms chew through it and spit out a .mobi file. However, my attempt at getting such a file generated fell flat on its pupillary sphincters. It was all kinds of messed up. So many kinds of messed up, it would have been easier for me to write my own file than try and fix theirs. And did this happen because of my sloppy use of Microsoft Word formatting?

Absolutely not. It's quite obviously an issue with Amazon's code ;)

Let me explain though. To make a .mobi file, you need an HTML file of your book, and two additional XML files for navigation and such. You then combine all this in a command line executable (which I have no issues with). Nowhere is it documented that you need to use the .opf file in the cmd line argument. Also, there is little in the way of tutorials on making the two XML files (the .opf and the .ncx), so that took an age.

Fortunately I'm now in a position to easily produce another eBook once I acquire the text. If you have any questions on the process, just ask.

Here are the links: Book page and the Kindle-specific page. I'd love to hear any feedback on the eBook for those of you who get it. **I've also told Amazon that if a customer buys the physical copy, then they can download the digital book for free.

Titular Plot Revelation

There's a (I won't call it a blunder) device that you see often enough that involves the title of a work. I'll name a few: Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Artemis Fowl, Indiana Jones, Septimus Heap, Napoleon Dynamite... They all have one thing in common (besides all being male). The Character Title. You've written an entire 80,000+ word book but can't come up with one more thing. The title. Or maybe you chose the Character Title on purpose.

I'll tell why I as a reader don't care too much for the Character Title. It saps some of the tension out of the narrative, especially if there are multiple titles in your series. I know that no matter what the protagonist comes up against, he/she will definitely avoid dying until at soonest the last book. I imagine that George R. R. Martin saw this trope and decided to grossly exploit it. Nearly everybody dies in A Song of Ice and Fire—and that's a problem in and of itself. My question to writers of stories such as ASoIaF is, why should I put so much effort into becoming acquainted with your characters if I know you're just going to kill them off?

And there we've revealed two irksome behaviors. (1) I'm going to tell you upfront through the title that the character you'll grow to love is never really in danger, and (2) you'll soon find that every other character you grow to love will be slaughtered by my pen. Of course, there's another behavior that can be equally as tiresome, the resurrecting hero. If it happens once in your story and you pull it off, your book is going to be amazing. If it starts happening too many times...(Dragon Ball Z *cough*).

Now sometimes your story isn't concerned with life and death experiences (Napoleon Dynamite) and therefore has no quarrel with the Character Title. But let's take Harry Potter. He comes into a "life and death" situation at least once in every book, but (spoiler alert) doesn't die until the final one. That's exactly what the title told us would happen.

An example of some amazing titles are Lord of the Rings and Star Wars. Although LotR doesn't focus around Sauron, it's interesting that the story follows the pattern of titular plot revelation by keeping him alive until the end of book 3. That being said, we know nothing about the fates of the characters we care about. Not all of the fellowship are present at the conclusion of the epic. The title of Star Wars likewise does nothing to reveal prematurely which characters will survive until the end.

Of course you don't always want the characters you're following to die, but it makes every encounter more real if we haven't been told beforehand that they won't. My advice is that if you get to the end of a story (unless it's a standalone or a short story), wring that last little bit of juice out of your imagination and come up with a good title. But who knows, maybe a good title for your book will be the Character Title. I think Leven Thumps worked it quite well as a series.