Book PlanPlan Book
Planning, writing and developing a book
Like so often when I need a leap into a new book I'm working on, I registered for an on-line course this year. It has triggered a heated debate because the storyteller is not at all vivacious. The narrative is confessedly doomed in the chemistry of Where' d You Go, Bernadette?, which is an appealing interlocution.
History is more about her absence of reaction to every incident, interrupted by small outbursts of rage (breaking the five cups in the laboratory) about her indecisiveness and the injustice of living than about all the acts she does to advance history. For me, a good book layout is built on two kinds of fuels.
The one is what happens from the outside - the incidents that trigger a response in your storyteller. The ideal situation is that there are many of these two types of combustibles within the historical fabric. It' s coming from the outside. There' s something happening to the storyteller that's changing the course of the film. Due to this extraneous change of games, the storyteller has to respond, make choices.
In the end, however, the event should result in #2, the instant of "I can't stand it anymore", when the storyteller is acting on his own name and making a break. It' inside the tank. Normally, points 2 and 4 on the storyline board use this type of power. Powerful storyline structures go back and forth in these major turning points - some from the outside, others from the inside.
They can also graph the motion within each section, see the kind of gasoline you use, and make sure it is variable. After a while, a book that only provides outside support (things that happen to someone) can get boring. It is not clear to us that internal changes and expansion take place, choices are made.
Telling the tale is a sacrifice, which is basically dull. If both are busy, you have a beautiful equilibrium, a beat, a credible character who is responsible for the game. I am now in the middle of chemistry, and although my spirit still enjoys the way I write, my soul is still aching. The things happen, but the storyteller doesn't react, except fear and apathy.
This book has been highly praised by critics, but it's not my kind of history because nobody drives this one. When a storyteller ends the narrative by the rationale of the cause (something happens) that produces an effect (a reaction) that produces another cause (the act that he or she engages in reacting to it), is the narrative even in motion?
And if you want to go further, start your history in terms of outside and inside gas.