writing advice

Fantasy is quite literally a magical genre, and as a fan, there’s nothing more exciting than seeing that magic brought to life. From epic undertakings like the Lord of the Rings trilogy to dazzling new Netflix series like The Witcher, adapted fantasy has more than proven its entertainment value and staying power in recent years “” which may have some fantasy writers wondering, How can I do that with my book?

Of course, blockbuster dreams shouldn’t be your only motivation; in order to succeed as a fantasy writer, you need genuine passion for your story, regardless of whether it ever hits the big screen. That said, there are definitely some things you can do to make your book more vivid and “cinematic”! Here’s how to strike just the right balance to write fantasy that’s both compulsively readable and potentially watchable.

Create a unique, vibrant world

When writing fantasy, worldbuilding should come before all else. If you don’t lay out your geography, cultures, and magic system(s) first, your storytelling will almost certainly feel thin or haphazard in places. Not to mention that a well-established world is key to a great adaptation: the realm you create will serve as the visual and atmospheric backbone of your show or movie, so make sure it can hold itself up.

You might start by thinking about your world’s predominant beliefs and power systems. What folklore, religious influences, or other major ideas have shaped it, and which might clash and lead to conflict in your story? What group is in power “” or which groups are contending for it “” and what are their motives and ambitions? How have factions arisen within this context, and to which do your main characters belong?

Once you have a strong sense of these elements, you can think more about the “fun” cinematic details: what your world will look, sound, and feel like. Consider your wider setting “” whether that’s a collection of feuding countries or the far reaches of outer space “” as well as smaller ones that will lend your story color. Flesh out what people do on a daily basis: how they work, interact, and take care of themselves, and how all this reflects the society in which they live.

Finally, think about what will distinguish your world from other fantasy worlds. Will it be based on unusual mythology? Will it offer a new aesthetic, or revitalize an old one (as Leigh Bardugo’s Grishaverse, now being adapted as Shadow and Bone, has done for steampunk)? Though cinematic considerations should not take precedence over organic worldbuilding, it never hurts to muse on this sort of thing early on.

Plan rewarding character arcs

Now you’ve hammered out your world, it’s time to fill it with characters that will engage readers and viewers alike. Though some might argue that writing physically attractive characters is the best approach here, those of us who have watched too many shows on The CW will know that even stellar looks can’t make up for poor characterization “” which is why you should focus on strong character arcs instead.

Why highlight character arcs in particular? Firstly, because fantasy tales can easily get lost in their own grandeur. You need human stories to act as an anchor, otherwise people will simply stop caring. And secondly, because at the end of a (usually lengthy) fantasy book or adaptation, readers want to feel the journey was worth it. If your characters don’t end up changed or at least reaffirmed in their principles, people will wonder, what was the point of all that?

To give you a jumping-off point: a strong character arc should intrigue readers from the beginning, giving them a sense of the character’s potential for various outcomes. As the story unfolds, the character will face obstacles “” often in the form of other characters on their own journeys “” and make choices that determine who they become.

The trajectory of this arc depends on what role you want each character to play. For example, you might have a character renounce their previous goals and become an antagonist, moving the story in a brand-new direction. From there, you’d need to work out whether this character will revert or fight it out with the protagonist. But either way, you’ll have the audience deeply invested “” and ultimately rewarded with an exciting, emotional (and yes, cinematic) finale.

Hone your action and dialogue

Action and dialogue are two more crucial elements when writing screen-friendly fantasy. However, there’s a reason this tip reads “hone” rather than “increase” “” though you might be tempted to cram your fantasy with epic battles and rapid-fire dialogue, quality remains much more important than quantity.

When writing action (used here to mean “physically active things the characters are doing”, i.e., not thinking or sleeping) it should be pacy and easy to visualize, yet not overwhelming in its description. Whether your characters are dancing, feasting, or hiking up a mountain, provide just enough detail to conjure a clear image while still leaving some things to readers’ imaginations.

The only exceptions are tide-changing fight scenes, for which you can take a beat-by-beat approach to draw attention to their significance. This scene from Dorothy Dunnett is an excellent case study in descriptive, revealing action; see how she uses long, all-in-one-breath sentences to illustrate the rush of action. Of course, this isn’t the only way to write a good fight scene “” you might find that short, staccato sentences better reflect the punchy combat styles of your characters, or that interspersing the action with dialogue creates more emotional resonance.

Speaking of which, let’s talk dialogue (no pun intended). Like character arcs, this is important in every story, but especially in fantasy; it adds another human element that will keep readers invested. And witty banter is a real breath of fresh air onscreen!

But writing great dialogue is easier said than done. To tackle this challenge with confidence, nail down your characters’ voices before you dive into your story. You can try dialogue-based writing exercises “” or, if these feel too random, write a few prequel stories about what your characters were doing before your central narrative began. Whichever exercise you choose, just remember to really delve into your characters’ minds in order to grasp their distinct voices.

As your story progresses, you’ll be surprised how much your characters have to talk about. Once again, honing is key. Though you can draft as much dialogue as you like, keep only the best lines in your actual book “” not just the clever ones, but those that also enhance characterization or serve the plot. The rest you can save for a rainy day, like the sequel or even the eventual adaptation, which will likely place more emphasis on dialogue.

Use plot twists wisely

This article on writing cinematic fantasy would be remiss if it didn’t discuss plot twists. From Snape being a double agent to Gandalf coming back from the dead, a thrilling twist is often the cherry on top of an action-packed fantasy”¦ just be careful not to overdo it. To extend the sundae metaphor, one or two cherries is fine, but more than that and you’ll make your readers sick.

Audiences particularly dislike out-of-nowhere twists, so make sure any twists you do include make sense within the story. If you find yourself throwing in a twist when you haven’t built up to it enough, whether to liven things up or because you feel like you “should, “ stop right there! You might think it’s cinematic, but it’ll only come across as cheap.

That said, it’s fine to come up with a twist at the end of your book, then go back and sprinkle in hints throughout your story “” “mak[ing] it look like you knew what you were doing all along,” as Neil Gaiman advises. You might even devise a twist that could be revealed now, but would have much better payoff down the line. If that’s the case, be patient; your readers will appreciate the strategic mastery of saving the big guns for later books.

And of course, if a bona fide “twist” simply doesn’t suit your story, don’t force it. Books aren’t adapted on the basis of twists alone; people want fantasy tales with wildly original worlds, compelling characters, and creative writing to rival the likes of Jemisin and Le Guin.

Sure, it’s a tall order. But won’t it all be worth it when you’re the showrunner on your very own fantasy series? With these tips in mind, you might just have the next Game of Thrones on your hands”¦ only your ending will be a lot more satisfying.

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BIO: Savannah Cordova is a writer with Reedsy, a marketplace that connects authors and publishers with the world’s best editors, designers, and marketers.  In her spare time, Savannah enjoys reading contemporary fiction and fantasy, as well as writing short stories.

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If you’re an author or other fantasy and science fiction creative, and want to do a guest blog post, please check out the guest blog post guidelines. Or if you’re looking for community from other F&SF writers, sign up for the Rambo Academy for Wayward Writers Critclub!

How do you learn to write? You learn by observing and doing, by reading good fiction and making attempts at your own. The truth is that writing is primarily self-taught, that the axiom that you must write a million words is on the mark, and that the first rule is this: To learn to write, you must be writing.

With my students who are writing and thinking about writing, I would have to actively give them bad advice like Play videogames rather than write. Don’t read anything. Only write when you’re in the mood. for them not to get better. That’s the plain and simple truth.

So Do Writing Classes Help?

Writing classes do help – or can, at any rate, depending on what you do with them. They can supply short-cuts, impetus, tricks and techniques. They can kick you in the butt and make you produce, by forcing you to give fellow students a piece to critique, or via homework or in-class timed writings. They can provide inspiration to keep going by giving you something new to try or a way to break a log-jam or dry spell. They can build connections and new friends for you, sometimes friendships that will last for years or even decades.

But with or without them, if you’re writing and think about writing, you will get better at word-smithing, and that is true no matter what stage of the game you’re at. I schedule classes with other people for the Rambo Academy because they’re classes I want to take, which means I’ve been very lucky in recent years, getting to hear people like Seanan McGuire talk about writing series or Ann Leckie discuss writing space opera. Those classes always inspire me, and the novel that I have coming out next year from Tor had its genesis in Leckie’s class. If I wasn’t willing to take classes, I wouldn’t have had that inspiration.

What Should You Learn to Become a Writer?

What should you learn? Learn grammar, so you don’t have to rely on Word’s red wiggly line to tell you when you’ve got a subject/verb agreement. But remember a good, innovative writer colors outside the lines sometimes — know the rules so you can break them with panache. A writer writing to get a high score on Grammarly is missing the chance to innovate and improvise, and aiming for mediocrity in the process.

Learn how to show instead of tell, weaving a dream to pull in your readers. Pay attention to your senses so you can replicate those sensations in your text. Work on supplying the details without ever drawing attention to yourself, so you never commit the cardinal sin and remind the reader that they are reading. Look at how other people do it, and find the techniques that work for you.

Learn how to revise what you write, so you can just write whatever you’re writing, knowing that you’ll make it perfect in the rewrite, and relax into that joyful flow of verbiage. That’s another thing you must be doing in order to learn the skill, but also a place where working with a group that lets you critique other people’s work as well as be critiqued will help you learn it faster.

Critiquing groups are a vast help but not in the way you think. You learn more from critiquing someone else’s work than you do from having your own critiqued, because the former forces you to articulate your ideas and understandings of fiction. You’ll be amazed at how often the problem you’re spotting in someone else’s work will turn up in your own.

What Should You Read to Become a Writer?

What should you read? Read everything — contemporary and classic — and when you love or hate a piece of writing, go back and figure out why. Look at what other authors are doing and imitate them. Steal like Picasso and make things your own.

Read stuff that wins awards so you know what the current trends are and who’s producing what. You can’t predict where the market will be going, but you can know what territory has been so well-visited that it probably won’t be returned to.

Read nonfiction because so much of the stuff of story resides there. Nonfiction will give you details that help makes your dream real for the reader, as well as insight and information that will help shape your stories.

Read poetry because it is beautiful and feeds your soul, and because it will teach you new things to do with words, while seeping into your writing and tinging it with new and beautiful colors.

What Should You Do to Become a Writer?

You must write. Every day if you have that luxury, even if it’s a quick 100 words squeezed in on your phone on the bus to work. You must figure out how to carve space and time for your writing, and you must defend that time from well-meaning friends and vile enemies alike. You must learn to step the hell away from social media and other distractions sometimes and just write. Use the things you love to coax yourself along — ten minutes on Twitter if you finish that page, an ice cream cone for hitting your weekly word count, that new fountain pen for completing that story. Find the things that make you productive — and do them.

You must — at some point — start sending stuff out. Don’t do the editor’s job for them by rejecting the work before they even see it. Send it out and write more while you’re waiting for it to come back.

Remember that writing is a professional activity, that if you’re putting yourself out into the public maybe you want to think about how you’re coming off in face to face and online interactions. It’s a small eco-system and you’ll find that the editorial intern you take out a frustration on today may well be the acquiring editor turning down your book somewhere down the line. Don’t assume you always have the right answer, and don’t be afraid to admit when you don’t. Be kind. Or at least, as per Connie Willis’ advice, don’t be a jackass.

The unexamined life is not worth living, Plato tells us, and I will add that it’s not one that makes you a better writer. If you want to understand the human heart, look to your own and all its petty mean behaviors as well as the nobility of which it is capable. Write what you know; write truth. All of this will help you become a writer.

But write. And write, and write some more. You cannot be a writer until you begin to write.*

*For an alternate viewpoint, consult Timothy the Cat.

Oh, it’s that time! The season of looking back at the year and seeing what you did or didn’t get done. And the season for starting to nominate for awards. I’ve been reading and recommending for a while now, but it’s always fun to read all the wrap-up posts and find anything that I missed. I do have a monster post full of some of this year’s reading, but I’m still working on that. (When I have it, there will be a link here.)

Writers wondering whether or not they should put up an awards eligibility post, the answer is yes, yes you should. Do us all the favor of collecting your stuff and making it easy to find. If you’ve got a lot, point out some favorites.

The stories of my own I am pushing this year are “Left Behind” (short story), “Red in Tooth & Cog” (novelette), “Haunted” (novella co-written with Bud Sparhawk), and the fantasy collection Neither Here Nor There. SFWA members should be able to find copies of those on the member boards; I am happy to mail copies to people reading for awards whether or not you are a member. Drop me a line and let me know the preferred format. I am looking for reviewers interested in Neither Here Nor There and happy to send copies as needed.

I was asked to stick the speech up online; this is not a literal transcription, but based on my speech notes. I’ll write up some additional notes later on this week. Here is the speech.

(after a little banter about muffins) I would ask you all if you’re having a good time but I know that you are. Because I’ve been so impressed by the enthusiasm, the professionalism, and the talent here, and amazed at how well the presenters are taken care of by the conference. Thank you for the chance to be here.

I figure you are all already stuffed full of writing advice, so I wanted to give you some things for after the conference.

First off, go home and sleep. Decompress. You’ve been working hard all weekend and you deserve it.

Then start to work. If you’re a notetaker, go back over your notes. I still go over mine from Clarion West in 2005 every once in a while. If you’re not, go look to see what other people have written up. I guarantee you’ll find some blog write-ups and other notes. Go find what you might have missed.

And use those notes and ideas to start to write. I try to write, every day, 2000 words, because that’s what Stephen King does and I think he’s a pretty good role model. Note that I say try, because I don’t always hit it. But you must write. Every day you write is a victory.

When I taught at Hopkins, the students used to defiantly bring up King as an example of what they liked to read. It always surprised them when I said I liked him too. It feels like I’ve been reading Stephen King all my life. At least, for a very long time. He’s produced a lot of wonderful books, including one of my favorites, The Stand. In this book you get to see beneath the covers on a lot of those books.

What: On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King is divided into two parts. The first is an autobiographical look at his writing over the years. It is unflinching and honest and well worth the read. The second is stuff about writing. It is also unflinching and honest and well worth the read.

Who: If you are a writer who buys writing books, it maybe impossible for you not to know about this book already. If you’re a writer who doesn’t read books about writing — this one’s worth picking up.

Why: Read this to become a better writer, or just to understand the craft better. King uses the metaphor of the writer’s toolbox, which is a very useful one.

I want to suggest that to write to your best abilities, it behooves you to construct your own toolbox and then build up enough muscle so you can carry it with you. Then, instead of looking at a hard job and getting discouraged, you will perhaps seize the correct tool and get immediately to work.

What goes in your toolbox? Vocabulary and punctuation. Point of view. Literary Devices. Foreshadowing. You get the picture.

When: Read this when you’re feeling a bit starved for the muse and want to be reminded that writing is a matter of work, not divine inspiration.

Where and how: Read it with pen in hand, ready to underline and make notes that apply to your own writing. Read it with King’s books close by, so you can reach for them and see his principles played out in their pages.

Enjoy this writing advice and want more content like it? Check out the classes Cat gives via the Rambo Academy for Wayward Writers, which offers both on-demand and live online writing classes for fantasy and science fiction writers from Cat and other authors, including Ann Leckie, Seanan McGuire, Fran Wilde and other talents! All classes include three free slots.

Prefer to opt for weekly interaction, advice, opportunities to ask questions, and access to the Chez Rambo Discord community and critique group? Check out Cat’s Patreon. Or sample her writing here.

#sfwapro

I can’t think of a better book to begin with than a writing book I go back to over and over again, both for teaching and to apply to my own writing. Be aware that many of these essays are also contained in The Jewel-Hinged Jaw.

What: About Writing, by Samuel R. Delany, is a book of writing advice that includes seven essays, four letters, and five interviews. Two essays are ones I go back to over and over again, “Thickening the Plot,” and “Characters.”

Who: People who will enjoy this book include all manner of writers, as well as anyone interested in Delany’s own awesome fiction.

When: You should read this when you’re feeling uninspired about your own writing or if you want some assurance that “writing to discover” is as valid an approach as plotting things out thoroughly.

Why: Delany is one of the foremost SF writers of our time. His work speaks not just to those beginning to write, but those well along their path. If, like me, you love his fiction, you’ll find About Writing sheds new light on those works.

Where and how: Read it someplace quiet, where you have space to stare off into the distance, thinking about what Delany has said. Read it straight through or else do what I do and dip in at various places. No matter what angle your approach takes, it’ll be rewarding.

The following comes from an email exchange between myself and John Barnes, whose story I critiqued and who has given permission to reprint the exchange 🙂 I know that this question often comes up for newer writers. They see writers who write long, elaborate sentences and wonder why they then get criticized for overly long and complicated sentences.

John: When you said to work on writing on a sentence /paragraph level, were you referring to sentence structure or cutting needless words? Was it well-written? Would a good play on muscle memory to intersperse the story with flashes of memory, along the lines of what Aliette De Bodarde did with immersion?

The answer to the question in the first sentence is yes to both. I think that you are at a point in your writing where you should both be looking at constructing interesting, graceful sentences as well as making sure that you remove excess words. Extraneous language often gets in the way of a story’s speaking to a reader, muffling its impact.

I thought the language was competent, but still needs the final polish that removes any awkwardness or places where the prose calls attention to itself. One of the ways a writer convinces the reader to relax and give into the experience of the story is by convincing them they are in expert hands that will keep reminders that they are reading to a minimum. Awkward sentences or passages that are overly wordy can remind a reader that they are reading and generally are experienced as a negative rather than a positive.

Absolutely a good play on muscle memory that intersperses the story with flashes of memory would be great. To make it superlative, the language needs to be constructed as clearly as possible. If you go over “Immersion,” you will see that in every sentence, words are pulling their weight and there are no extras.

Here is the only thing I know to be true about writing advice: none of it is 100% true. There are always exceptions, always idiosyncrasies of individual process.

Here is the smartest piece of writing advice I ever got: said by Syne Mitchell while I was at Clarion West in 2005, “Try different things, find what works for you, and do that. Lots.”

Writers should pay attention to our own process. Sometimes we’re reluctant to do so. We worry that like the centipede in the story who stops being able to walk after thinking about exactly how she does it, looking at our own process will damage or kill it. A Schrödinger’s cat: we know we’re doing something, but if we look to prove that, it’ll vanish.

This is not actually true. Looking will, most probably, not kill it. If you are the rare exception that cannot look at their process without damaging it, a brief examination will let you know this without damaging anything too much. Maybe. There are no guarantees in writing advice.

But if you are part of the vast majority that WILL learn from it, what will you gain?

Last week in the Writing F&SF Stories class, we talked about dialogue. This is one of the basic tools for a writer.

The key points were:

1. You are creating a Platonic ideal of speech. If you wrote the way people actually speak in day to day experience, it would be full of uhs, excess words (particularly conjuctions), and abrupt shifts in grammar. Such a conglomeration of words would prove off-putting on the page.
2. People’s language reflects so much about them, both external and internal. Their education, their biases, their social class, their gender, their obsessions, the metaphors of their inner landscape…the list goes on and on.
3. Eavesdropping is an imperative for writers. Be shameless in your listening and faithful in your notations — but in your writing use it freely, altering and editing it in order to achieve point #1..
4. Punctuate it correctly. Writers who don’t know the ins and outs of punctuation rusk putting most editors off. Perhaps you are one of those who argue that creating marvelous things with language requires using it in new and interesting and sometimes ungrammatical ways. To which, I would say that sure, do that, but do it in a way that people will understand. Convince the editor that (one) you know what you’re doing with the punctuation by being both consistent and comprehensible and (two) that you’re using it for (good) purpose and we’ll follow you. But to do this you MUST know what rules you’re violating, so no matter what, you’re going to have to buckle down and learn the basics of punctuation.

Enjoy this writing advice and want more content like it? Check out the classes Cat gives via the Rambo Academy for Wayward Writers, which offers both on-demand and live online writing classes for fantasy and science fiction writers from Cat and other authors, including Ann Leckie, Seanan McGuire, Fran Wilde and other talents! All classes include three free slots.

Prefer to opt for weekly interaction, advice, opportunities to ask questions, and access to the Chez Rambo Discord community and critique group? Check out Cat’s Patreon. Or sample her writing here.

Several people have been asking if I’d offer an online workshop and I’ve been thinking about how best to do that. So here goes. Please spread the word of this however you can. If I don’t get at least 3 students for a workshop, I’ll cancel it.

Dates:
Workshop 1 — Wednesday evenings, 8 pm-10 pm PST, December 14, 2011-January 18, 2012
Workshop 2 — Saturday mornings 9:30 AM-11:30 AM PST, December 17-January 28, 2012 (I have to miss the 21st due to a convention).

Format: I’m going to offer two sessions, one on a weekday evening and the other on Saturday mornings, because I know schedules vary. The class will run six weeks, with a two hour session each time. I would like to schedule workshop time into that, where you’ll get a chance to read and critique each other’s stories, as well as a chance to hear me critique them, so starting with the second session, part of the class will be devoted to that (no more than 50%, tops). I’ll be doing the class as a Google Hangout, so we’ll all be chatting face to face, which means there is a limit of 9 students per class. There will be an optional make-up session for both workshops for people who had to miss a class or two along the line the week after the class ends.