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The Story Question

As you may have surmised from my last post Pick a Story and Write, I have been battling with my Muse about my novel. In an effort to get back on track I went back to the beginning. No, not the opening scene, the real beginning. I opened up my writer’s notebook and re-read my story question. Story question? Yes, story question. What is this story about? Who is involved? What is the major plotline? What is the major conflict that needs to be overcome? Sometimes it’s called your elevator sales pitch. You know, you step into an elevator at a convention and standing there is the editor-in-chief of the publishing house of your dreams. It’s just the two of you and you decide to pitch your idea for a story. You have 12 floors to sell it. If it works you end up with a mutli-book contract. If you fail, your only route is self publishing. What do you say? If you have created the story question, you have half a chance. The story question is the 30,000 foot level view of your story. You shouldn’t give the details away. But you need enough the capture the person’s attention.

Since I’m not quite ready to pitch my story to the editor of my dreams, I use the story question to help keep me focused on where I wanted to go in the first place. When I review my story question, I ask myself, is the story I’m writing and the story question on the same track? Am I keeping with the flavor of the initial idea? Is the new direction better than what I originally intended? Do I need to modify the question or the story?

I strongly suggest that if you have not already done, take some time and craft a story question for your current project. Or, if you have a project that died too soon, try to craft a question for that story and see where you may have gone wrong with it.

My question has changed slightly since I first crafted it. However, the main points are still the same. Everytime I read it, I get a feeling of excitement that helps me press onward. I can see the individual scenes that need to take place to answer the question.

Here is my story question for “Smoke and Goblet”:

When a master thief tries to fence a stolen item, he finds out that it is not just another bauble but also, a phylactery that contains the source of all fear. The situation deteriorates when he finds out that the previous owner stole the item from a necromancer with an insatiable appetite for creating new thralls. With the necromancer, the previous owner, and even his own fence wanting him dead, can the thief find a way to dispose of the object without becoming dead, or worse and still make a profit?

I would love to read some of your story questions. Sell me on your idea. I have a twelve floor elevator ride to listen to you. 🙂

 
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Posted by on July 16, 2012 in Other Strangeness

 

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Up on the Soapbox

I promised myself that I would not use this blog to get on my soapbox unless it was life or death. Well that lasted four months.

The term “I have a bone to pick with you” does not cover the full depth of feeling I have on this topic. So, I have a carcass to pick with all of the women of the world!

Uh-oh, there I have gone and done it. 

Last friday, I came to the realization that all women are sneaky, deceitful, selfish, liars by omission. You have kept a secret from men for an eternity. Something so valuable that you whisper “Me precious!” to yourselves whenever it is mentioned in public. On the rare occasion that it is mentioned in the presence of men, you down play it or make it sound trivial that it should not warrant the attention of the men in your lives.

“Liars, cheats, thieves!” I scream. You have cheated me out of half of a century of experiencing this wonderous thing. For this you cannot be forgiven!

“What is it, you ask, that would make this usually jovial, forgiving man display such angst against all womankind?”

The answer is…a pedicure, complete with foot scrub and massage!

Stop laughing and let tell you a little story.

I have been complaining to the CEO of my domicile for several weeks that one of my toenails keeps splitting. I have tried everything I can think of but to no avail. Finally, the CEO said, “I know what will work. Friday we will go see a friend of mine and she will fix you right up.”

Excellent. 

So, Friday, after work, we drove to this little strip mall and go into a nail salon.

Excuse me? What’s going on here?

The CEO gently took my hand and said everything would be alright. No one was going to hurt me. For the next 55 minutes, my feet were pampered like they were gods. I will not describe it in detail as it must be experienced to be believed. The lovely ladies did giggle to each other about my ugly feet in their native language. But it did not spoil the moment. I can not tell you the last time my feet felt as happy as they did Friday evening.

Now before the men out there demand I turn over my “Guy card”, let me say that I refused to let these lovely people paint my toe nails red…or any other color. And they did try. We men like simple pleasures. That is the truth of it.  All I am saying is that this is one the women of the world have kept from us, until now. Do not knock it until you have experienced it. So, put on your big boy britches, suck up your manhood and take a plunge. I promise you will enjoy yourself.

Lastly. Ladies, though you may be talented with words, I can promise you this; There is no poetry or prose sufficiently powerful to make me believe that a bikini wax is anything other than medieval torture. So, I will pass on that experience.

Have a nice day.

 
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Posted by on April 3, 2012 in Other Strangeness

 

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