October 12, 2026 · 6:00 am

Narrative Voice – who is telling the story and when did it happen? #writing

Today’s post is a bit involved, but bear with me, because beginning a story with the wrong narrative voice can lead to that place where we just aren’t interested in our project anymore.

Three things combine to tell the story to the reader:

  1. Narrative point of view is the perspective, a personal or impersonal “lens” through which a story is communicated.
  2. Narrative voice is how a story is communicated, the author’s fingerprint.
  3. Narrative time, or what we call tense, affects our perception of character development.
  • In grammar, tense is a category that expresses time reference. Tenses are usually shown by how we use the forms of verbs, particularly in their conjugation The main tenses found in most languages include the past, present, and future.

Narrative time/tense shows us the event’s location in time. The author’s choice of verb tense shapes our perception of when the story happened in relation to the protagonist’s current state. That choice tells us when an event happened relative to another time, past or present.

Narrative voice affects a reader’s perception of characters in subtle ways. It should be an undercurrent that goes unnoticed after the first few paragraphs. It shapes the reader’s view of events subliminally.

I’ve used the following sentences as an example before: “I eat,” “I am eating,” “I have eaten,” and “I have been eating.”

All are in the present tense: eat, am, and have. Yet, they are different because each conveys unique information or points of view about how the action relates to the present.

Subjunctives are small verbs of existence, but just like adverbs, they are telling words. These words fall out of our heads and into our narrative in the first draft because we are just trying to get the story down. In the second draft, they are signals telling us what needs to be reworded.

Subjunctives are hard to spot. Forms of “to be” can be found in subordinate clauses where something is mandated or required:

  • I demand the prisoner be fed the same as anyone else.

BUT how does this relate to the topic at hand?

What if my characters are stranded in a desert? Should I write, “They were hot and thirsty“?

A sentence like that leaves nothing to the reader’s imagination. “Were“ is a subjunctive. The reader is on the outside, looking in.

This is where our choice of narrative time/tense comes into play.

Our job is to take that experience of thirst and make it immediate. No matter what narrative point of view we’re writing in, strong verbs affect narrative time and change everything.

Which sentence feels stronger, more pressing?

  1. They trudged on with dry, cracked lips, yearning for a drop of water.
  2. I walk toward the oasis with dry, cracked lips and parched tongue.

Each sentence says the same thing, but we get a different story when we change the narrative tense, point of view, and verb choice.

Narrative voice, verb tense/time, and expanded imagery combine to change how we perceive the characters in that moment.

Strong verbs best describe our characters’ actions and emotions. They connect the reader to the immediate situation our characters find themselves in.

For my short story, View from the Bottom of a Lake, the narrative tense that worked best was a past tense, close third person.

Peggy Jayne smiled. Beneath the green-glittering gaze, her toothsome smile flayed her daughter, leaving Sarah breathless, panicking and longing for her lake.

Sometimes the only way you can get into a character’s head is to write them in the first-person present tense, which happened to me with Thorn Girl. I struggled with her story for nearly six months until a member of my writing group suggested changing the narrative tense and point of view.

Once I did that, the story fell out of my head the way I had envisioned but couldn’t articulate, and I wrote it in one evening.

My first instinct is to shake my head and back away.

But I don’t. Long ago, my Lady told me that in every life, a time will come when you arrive at a precipice. You must either leap the chasm or fall to your death.

I stand at that place now.

That switch made that particular short story so much easier to write. Remember, in a traditional first-person point-of-view story, the protagonist is the narrator. No one ever has complete knowledge of anything, so the first-person narrator cannot be omnipotent. Her lack of knowledge is the story.

It is crucial for authors to write short stories as well as longer pieces. They force us to tell our stories from different points of view and encourage us to experiment with using a different narrative tense than we normally gravitate to.

Every story is unique, and some work best in the past tense, while others need to be in the present. Regardless of the narrative tense, your voice is unique. Your habitual word choices are unique.

That is why only you can tell your stories.

Credits and Attributions:

Quote from View from the Bottom of a Lake, © 2020 Connie J. Jasperson. Story first appeared in the anthology Escape, published by the Northwest Independent Writers Association and edited by Lee French.

Quote from Thorn Girl, © 2019 Connie J. Jasperson. Story first appeared in the anthology Swords, Sorcery, and Self-rescuing Damsels, edited by Lee French and Sara Craft.

 

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October 9, 2026 · 6:00 am

#FineArtFriday: Two visions of “Greenwood Lake in Autumn” by Jasper Francis Cropsey (revisited)

I first showed these paintings in October of 2018. Today we’re featuring two beautiful images of Autumn in New England in the mid-nineteenth century. They are both painted from the same beach on the shore, at what was clearly a favorite time of day.

Jasper Francis Cropsey created many paintings of Greenwood Lake, a freshwater lake on the border between New York State and New Jersey, beginning in 1843. The above image is titled “Autumn on Greenwood Lake.”

The second painting is titled, “Autumn in America.”

Over the next few decades, Cropsey painted numerous scenes of the area, many from the same viewpoint on the lake as today’s featured paintings, each with varying intensities of color. Something about this lake and this beach captured the artist’s heart.

These two paintings were done years apart. What really intrigues me is the difference in the way he depicts the light and the changes in Cropsey’s style. In the second painting, he has moved away from the classical style of his early works and embraced luminism.

The second painting was done in an early autumn, and the first was painted later in the season. In both paintings, we see cows drinking at water’s edge. In the distance and nearly hidden by shadows, we see fishers and their rowboat.

However, the scenery has slightly changed in the second painting, as the landscape does from year to year. There is more debris in the second, and the shrubbery seems more mature. Cropsey’s skills have matured as well, and he has gravitated to deeper, more intense colors by the time he made the second painting.

The sun is in the same place as in the first, but it feels later in the evening. The autumn haze completely hides the hills.

Clearly, this was a place that was beloved by the artist, as he returned year after year, and made many landscapes of this lake and the surrounding area.

About the artist (Via Wikipedia):

Jasper Francis Cropsey (February 18, 1823 – June 22, 1900) was an important American landscape artist of the Hudson River School. He was best known for his lavish use of color and, as a first-generation member from the Hudson River School, painted autumn landscapes that startled viewers with their boldness and brilliance. As an artist, he believed landscapes were the highest art form and that nature was a direct manifestation of God. He also felt a patriotic affiliation with nature and saw his paintings as depicting the rugged and unspoiled qualities of America.

Jasper Cropsey died in anonymity but was rediscovered by galleries and collectors in the 1960s. [1]

Credits and Attributions:

IMAGE 1: Wikimedia Commons contributors, “File:Jasper Francis Cropsey – Autumn on Greenwood Lake – Google Art Project.jpg,” Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Jasper_Francis_Cropsey_-_Autumn_on_Greenwood_Lake_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg&oldid=867315579 (accessed October 7, 2026).

IMAGE 2: Wikimedia Commons contributors, “File:Jasper Francis Cropsey Autumn in America.jpg,” Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Jasper_Francis_Cropsey_Autumn_in_America.jpg&oldid=926171886 (accessed October 7, 2026).

[1] Wikimedia Commons contributors, “File:Jasper Francis Cropsey – Autumn on Greenwood Lake – Google Art Project.jpg,” Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Jasper_Francis_Cropsey_-_Autumn_on_Greenwood_Lake_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg&oldid=867315579 (accessed October 7, 2026).

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October 5, 2026 · 6:00 am

How participating in writing challenges shaped me #writing

From 2010 to 2023, I participated in an annual writing rumble called National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo. It was an annual creative writing challenge held in November each year. It began in 1999 in San Francisco with a group of twenty-one writers challenging each other to write a 50,000-word novel in thirty days. Over the years, it grew into a multinational event, an annual convergence of writers from all over the world.

For the first eight years of my participation, it was fun. During my ten years as a municipal liaison (ML) for that now-defunct organization, I discovered that there is no one way to begin and complete a novel or any other writing project that fits everyone.

However, some of us get more done when we have a deadline, even a self-imposed one.

The joy went out of NaNoWriMo once the national leadership changed, for reasons well documented on YouTube. Both my Co-ML and I became disgusted with its overtly corporate direction and walked away a year before the organization fell apart.

But November happens every year, and it’s still a great month to get that novel out of your head and onto paper.

I got involved in that annual challenge when a young writer in the Philippines, whom I met through a gaming website, mentioned he planned to participate. I had never heard of it, but since I had started and sort of completed several rambling, incoherent novels, I was intrigued.

I wasn’t sure I could do this crazy thing. But when I broke down the numbers, I saw that all I had to do was write 1,667 words daily. That was something I could do if I dedicated three hours an evening to it. I told my husband, and he said to go for it, even though I didn’t know what to write about.

Everyone who knows me will tell you that fear of failure has never stopped me from ruining my life. So, I googled the national website and signed up. I chose the handle dragon_fangirl. Through the website, I discovered that my town had a large group of participants in various stages of their careers, some who’d never written a thing, and others with several books published.

I started going to their “write-ins,” meetings at coffee shops and libraries where we got together and wrote furiously for one or two hours as a group. We commiserated and discussed our progress, and in the process I found a cadre of friends who became the core of my writing group. I am still writing with them.

During that first year, I rose at 6:30 a.m. on November 1, 2010, filled with trepidation. I opened a new document, gave it the title of “NaNoWriMo novel,” and saved it,

Then I stared at my laptop, with no idea where to begin or even what I wanted to write.

I had been working on an urban fantasy for several years, but I wanted to do something new. An idea had been lurking in the back of my mind for a Don Quixote-style character. But I also wanted to write sword-and-sorcery.

I read Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote as a teenager (at my father’s behest) and borrowed (stole) the heartily misogynistic adventures of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser from Dad’s nightstand, along with any other lurid and unsuitable novels that happened to be lying around.

I loved any kind of fantasy, from sword and sorcery to Arthurian mashups to epic high fantasy. The first words I wrote for that year’s novel were: There was a cabin in the woods.

It was a banal beginning, but it gave my idea a jumping-off point. I just began telling the story as it fell out of my mind. Surprisingly, I discovered my word count averaged 2,500 to 3,000 words daily. By day fifteen, I knew I would have no trouble getting to 50,000, and by November 21st, I had passed the 50,000-word mark.

At the 68,000-word point, I had completed my rollicking tale of snark and medieval derring-do. It was utterly unpublishable, but I didn’t know that until after an unfortunate experience with a predatory publisher.

The one thought that comforted me during that rough beginning was the fact that I had written the basics of a story I would have sought out at the bookstore.

After that fiasco, I turned to other writing projects for several years. I had written the storyline for an anime-based RPG that was never published because of a lack of funding and the tech crash. I still had the rights to my story and maps, so I wrote it as a novel, had it edited by my current editor, and published it. Three more novels set in that world followed.

Then my friends suggested I could rewrite the novel that my first publisher had ruined and republish it. After my wounds had healed from the bad publishing experience, I took the novel apart and separated the three main character threads. Over the next ten years, those threads became three books: Huw the Bard, Billy Ninefingers, and Julian Lackland.

All three novels are set in that original alternate medieval world, and center around the same group of characters. Much of what was originally written could be reused.

I learned how to lay down a first draft through participating in my local NaNoWriMo group. The wonderful people I met during those years helped me gain the tools I needed to turn a first draft into a properly finished book.

If you have the idea for a novel and want to get it out of your head while you are enthused about it, I suggest you write at least 1,670 words every day. At the end of thirty days, you will have written slightly more than 50,000 words.

This takes me about 2 hours of stream-of-consciousness writing, as long as I don’t go back to correct misspelled words. I do have an outline to follow, which has grown into a storyboard. This plan of action helps me know what should come next.

Many excellent writing challenges have emerged since NaNoWriMo’s downfall.

If you are looking for something to spur you into action this November, check out:

Novel November™ by ProWritingAid: The Free Writing Challenge

Reedsy Studio Writing Challenges

Pathfinders Writing Collective

AutoCrit Novel 90 Writing Challenge

And SO many more. Just Google “writing challenges” and see what you might be interested in

Last year I participated in ProWritingAid’s Novel November and had a great time. I posted about my experience here: #NovelNovember has ended, my book isn’t done, and once again, I’m clueless #writing | Life in the Realm of Fantasy

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October 2, 2026 · 6:00 am

#FineArtFriday: Midsummer Dance by Anders Zorn 1897

Anders Zorn: Midsommardans.

Artist: Anders Zorn (1860–1920)

Title: English: Midsummer Dance (Svenska: Midsommardans)

Date: 1897

Medium: oil on canvas

Dimensions: height: 140 cm (55.1 in); width: 98 cm (38.5 in)

What I love about this painting:

I enjoy paintings of ordinary people celebrating life, and in the northern countries, the return of sunlight and the longest day of the year is something to celebrate. The artist conveys the feeling of movement beautifully, depicting both the motion and emotion of the dancers.

I enjoy seeing the traditional dress, costumes women only wore for special events such as Midsummer’s celebration. Even in 1897, these costumes were relics of the past, cherished symbols of their nationality but rarely worn.

The maypole stands to the right of the scene. In the background, the older people watch from the sidelines, remembering the days when they danced.

Everyone is having fun, even the onlookers. I suspect the cleanup was a chore the next day, as next days always are, but it looks like it was a party to remember.

About this painting, via Wikimedia Commons:
English: In his autobiographical notes, Anders Zorn writes about how the idea for the painting was born:

“This work was painted in June and part of July after sunset and I am pleased to have done it. I had just given Morkarlby a new maypole. It was painted red every Midsummer and I realized and still realize that it is my solemn duty to be present and to lead the dressing of said pole. My farmhand, dear Verner, was in charge of raising the maypole on the stroke of midnight on Midsummer night. Once it was up, a reel was played and people danced hand-in-hand around the maypole and the yards in an endless snake of youngsters. Then there was dancing in one of the yards until sunrise. This is what my painting portrays.”

Zorn does not put the maypole at the center of his Midsummer Dance. His message is all about the experience of the dance, the scents of a summer night and the light. He completed this painting in 1897. [1]

File:Midsummer Dance (Anders Zorn) – Nationalmuseum – 18607.tif – Wikipedia

About Midsummer, via Wikipedia:

Midsummer or Midsommar (Swedish: [ˈmɪ̌ˌsɔmːar] or [ˈmǐːdˌsɔmːar]) is a celebration of the season of summer, taking place on or near the date of the summer solstice in the Northern Hemisphere, the longest day of the year. The name midsummer mainly refers to summer solstice festivals of European origin. These cultures traditionally regard it as the middle of summer, with the season beginning on May Day. Although the summer solstice falls on 20, 21 or 22 June in the Northern Hemisphere, it was traditionally reckoned to fall on 23–24 June in much of Europe. These dates were Christianized as Saint John’s Eve and Saint John’s Day. It is usually celebrated with outdoor gatherings that include bonfires, maypole dancing and feasting. [2]

About the Artist, via Wikipedia:

Zorn was born in Mora, Sweden, between the lakes of Siljan and Orsasjön. He studied at the Royal Swedish Academy of Arts in Stockholm from 1875 to 1880, and then spent time travelling in Europe, painting watercolors and society portraits in London, Paris and Madrid.

He returned to Sweden in 1885, and on 16 October, he married Emma Zorn (née Lamm) (1860 – 1942). After spending their honeymoon abroad, in eastern Europe and Turkey, they returned to Sweden in 1886, spending time with Emma’s family at Dalarö, before settling near Mora, where their house, which is now the home of the Zorn Collections, is located. [3]

To read more about the life of this artist, go to: Anders Zorn – Wikipedia

Credits and Attributions:

IMAGE: Wikipedia contributors, “Midsummer Dance,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Midsummer_Dance&oldid=1361282744 (accessed October 1, 2026).

[1] Wikipedia contributors, “Midsummer,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Midsummer&oldid=1374492604 (accessed October 1, 2026).

[2] Wikimedia Commons Contributors, File:Midsummer Dance (Anders Zorn) – Nationalmuseum – 18607.tif – Wikipedia (Accessed October 1, 2026).

[3] Wikipedia contributors, “Anders Zorn,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Anders_Zorn&oldid=1366818498 (accessed October 1, 2026).

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September 28, 2026 · 6:00 am

Avoiding scope creep (aka project creep, requirement creep, or kitchen sink syndrome) #writing

Autumn is here in the Northern Hemisphere, the time of year I think of as the writing season. Many books begin in the cold, dark months and are published within a year. Others take years to finish. Some are good, and some contain many fatal flaws that should have been resolved before it went to press.

But how? Whether you are an indie or traditionally published author, good project management skills are an essential tool.

There are several project management methods, but I use a phased (or staged) approach. This method breaks down and manages the work through a series of steps.

  1. Concept: The Brilliant Idea. Make notes (a storyboard) so you don’t forget good ideas.
  2. The Planning Phase: create a raw outline. Some people don’t need this step, but I do.
  3. The Construction Phase: write the first draft from beginning to end, then continue through multiple drafts. This is time-consuming, but it is necessary.

Good project management gives authors a way to cope with the writer’s first-draft curse: “scope creep.” Scope creep refers to changes and uncontrolled growth in a project and can occur at many points after the project begins. Many novels die young and unappreciated because scope creep took over. The plot meanders through the swamps of blah, blah, blah.

This happens when the project’s original idea is brilliant but nebulous. In business, as the project progresses, an inventor or production team may face unavoidable situations that affect production. The whole darned thing takes longer than we thought it would.

Novels begin life as a glorious idea not fully formed. Thus, stories grow exponentially as we write.

Books are one area where this sort of growth is fundamental to the project. However, this is why some rudimentary organizational skills are critical for the author. Successful authors are project managers, even if they don’t realize it.

ONE: Identify your Project Goals

This story is your invention, and some inventions take years to develop before they hit the market. Be prepared to take the time to do it right. Nothing reflects worse on an author than claiming AI slop is an original creation or rushing to publish a book before it is reader-ready. (The AI thing always comes out, so don’t fall into that trap. Be honest and admit to it if you are pushing books out via AI.)

TWO: Write the basic story.

  1. Monitoring and Controlling during the construction phase: This is where you build quality into your product.
  2. Find beta readers and heed their concerns in the rewrites. Take the manuscript through as many drafts as you must to have the novel you envisioned.
  3. Hire a good line editor to ensure consistent quality.
  4. Find reliable proofreaders. (Your writing group is an invaluable resource.)

THREE: Completion or Closing.

  1. Find an agent if you are taking the traditional route.
  2. Employ a professional formatter for the print version if you are going indie.
  3. Court an agent and publisher if you are taking the traditional route.
  4. Employ a cover designer if you are going indie.

Let’s go back to the second stage, writing the basic story.

Build your storyboard/stylesheet and note the changes you make as you go. See my post on stylesheets/storyboard’s here: Self-editing: Ensuring Consistency. Nothing upsets a reader more than a book where, in chapter forty-four, the author inadvertently contradicts what was written in chapter two. The storyboard is a visible, easy-to-understand way to stay on top of this.

I know, you’re going to tell me that you have it all straight in your head.

But as every child who has ever told a lie knows: stories grow and evolve in the telling. Eventually, the lie looks nothing like how it was in the first telling. I find that a storyboard is an essential tool for keeping the story straight.

I use a spreadsheet program for this, but a standard Word or Google document, a pen-and-paper notebook, or a whiteboard with sticky notes works just as well.

My storyboards contain the following elements:

  1. GLOSSARY: A list of names and invented words as they arise, all spelled the way I want them.
  2. MAPS: nothing fancy, just something rudimentary to show me the layout of the world.
  3. CALENDAR of events: especially important if the characters must travel.
  4. ALSO: the rough outline of my projected story arc, along with descriptions of invented worlds, religions, and magic systems.

For maps, you don’t need to get fancy. All you need are lines and scribbles that show the essentials, like what lies to the north, south, east, and west. Also, we need to know the spelling of any named towns and where they are in relation to the protagonist’s opening location. Use a pencil so you can easily update your map if something changes during revisions.

If you aren’t artistic and want a nice map later, your scribbled map will help a map artist create a beautiful, accurate product.

  • If your story takes place in the real world, use Google Maps and print out a copy for your reference, or scan a map into your storyboard.

Distances: How long does it take to travel one mile or kilometer using the common mode of transportation?

Time: Sometimes time gets mushy when we are writing as fast as we can. A calendar gives us a realistic view of how long it takes to travel from point A to point B, or how much time it will take to complete a task.

Worldbuilding: What season do your events occur in? Foliage changes with the seasons, and weather is a part of worldbuilding. You should have some notion of where rivers and forests are relative to towns because those landmarks will be mentioned at some point.

More worldbuilding: The map shows the terrain your story takes place on, and weather can affect the terrain. Your characters will interact with their environment in different ways depending on the season and the weather, and this will affect how long it takes them to travel from place to place, depending on the mode of transportation.

Original map of Neveyah from the author’s files. ©cjjasp 2008

I hope this long-winded rant helps you create the perfect novel. Project management is a vital tool for the author. Good storyboards are the author’s project management tools.

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September 25, 2026 · 6:00 am

#FineArtFriday: a second look at “An Autumn Walk in the English Garden of Munich” by Anders Andersen-Lundby 1887

Artist: Anders Andersen-Lundby (1841–1923)

Title: English: An autumn walk in the English Garden of Munich. German: Herbstspaziergang im englischen Garten in München.

Date: 1887

Medium: oil on canvas

Dimensions: height: 77 cm (30.3 in); width: 106 cm (41.7 in)

Inscriptions: Signature and date: 1887

What I love about this painting:

Once again, I was scouring Wikimedia Commons and kept returning to a painting I previously featured. I first saw it in October of 2025 and loved it.

Anders Anderson-Lundby shows us the perfect autumn day for a stroll. Truthfully, the day looks so pleasant that I’d like to be walking there. The leaves are nearly off the trees, and those that remain are golden and brown. Those who walk in these woods seem happy, content to be outdoors while the weather remains decent.

An unusually dry and overcast autumn has arrived here in the Pacific Northwest, a slightly less warm continuation of the dry, overcast summer we just experienced. Did I mention that it has been dry and overcast for what feels like years? For the last few months, the sun waited to break through until late in the afternoon. When it did, it dispelled the gloom in a short burst of “This is what you could have all the time if you lived in Honolulu.”

But today, we have rain and wind. Will it be enough to break the drought? A month of it would help, but that is unlikely in this year of the Super El Nino. The east coast suffers unusually wet weather while our forests get ever dryer, ever more likely to go up in flames.

Regardless of the rain we have today, the deciduous groves in my part of the world will soon look like the foliage in this painting. Even now, the native big-leaf maples are shading toward yellow and brown. Their leaves have begun falling and soon their branches will be bare.

However, color abounds in suburban neighborhoods across my county. The Japanese maples and other non-native trees brightening gardens and public through-ways have turned a bright red. Soon our native vine maples and that (now undomesticated) decorative-plant-gone-native, staghorn sumac, will also be dressed in scarlet.

About the Artist, via Wikipedia:

Anders Andersen-Lundby (December 16, 1841 – January 4, 1923) was a Danish landscape painter. He was most associated with winter landscapes.

(He) was born in Lundby, Denmark. He grew up in Lundby near Aalborg. In 1861, when he was twenty, Andersen-Lundby traveled to Copenhagen, and there he exhibited his works for the first time in 1864. By 1870, he gained popularity especially with his winter landscapes from both Denmark and southern Germany, most often with fallen snow or thaw.

In 1876, he moved to Munich with his family where he exhibited his paintings. He frequently visited Denmark and participated in exhibitions there. He exhibited at the Charlottenborg Spring Exhibition 1864–1913. [1]

To view more of Anders Anderson-Lundby’s work, go to Anders Andersen-Lundby – Wikipedia.

Credits and Attributions:

IMAGE: Wikimedia Commons contributors, “File:Anders Andersen-Lundby – Herbstspaziergang im Englischen Garten (1887).jpg,” Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Anders_Andersen-Lundby_-_Herbstspaziergang_im_Englischen_Garten_(1887).jpg&oldid=1068508759 (accessed September 24, 2026).

[1] Wikipedia contributors, “Anders Andersen-Lundby,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Anders_Andersen-Lundby&oldid=1191864454 (accessed September 24, 2026).

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September 21, 2026 · 6:00 am

Crafting the hook #writing

I started writing my very first novel in 1993. It opened with an info dump that went on and on, and on.

I didn’t understand the importance of starting with a strong opening paragraph that leads to an active first page. I didn’t know how to sustain the pacing, the rhythm of conflict-resolution-conflict that forms the arc of the plot.

It took a good writing group, numerous books on craft, and many seminars to get the education I didn’t have. Most importantly, I worked with an excellent editor (and still do) and over the years that experience has gradually shaped what I thought were final drafts into manuscripts I’m not ashamed to submit to her for the final edit.

The novels I love most all begin with a clear dramatic hook. This literary device should appear at the ends of scenes and chapters. The hook is sometimes a big problem that entangles the main character and promises a real struggle from the opening pages to the ending’s resolution.

Other times it is a small but intriguing mystery that leads us into a larger story.

No matter how the story opens, it begins with the opening act. The characters are introduced, and the scene is set. The plot will be hinted at and established in the first pages because that is where we:

  • Introduce the protagonist(s). Who and what are they?
  • Introduce the setting. Where are they?
  • Introduce the conflict. What does the protagonist want? What hinders them?

This is the first hook, the place where the author establishes the tone of what is to follow. Getting the pacing right in those opening pages and maintaining it to the last page in the novel is, in my experience, the most challenging part of making revisions.

Sometimes I open the story by dropping the characters into the middle of a mess. I still need a pivotal event at the 1/4 mark that upends what they know and sets them on a new trajectory. The destination ahead is now unknown, and this event launches the story.

The inciting incident does not necessarily have to be an event or tragedy. I have read and enjoyed many books where I became immediately engaged in the characters themselves, or the author’s writing style.

However, no matter how wonderful the characters are or how clever the prose, a story must change the characters emotionally. They must either grow in maturity or change for the worse.

I admit, I prefer character-driven stories. I love books where action and intrigue exist only to drive character development.

What about subplots/side quests?

If the subplot is the opening hook, why isn’t it the main quest? Does completing this quest drop us into the Big Problem? If so, great.

Cartoon: I am their creator. Why do they not obey me?If not, we need to rethink the plot. We do need roadblocks to success, and those often lead us away from the main path. As long as we can still see the ultimate goal, they will keep us entertained.

Side quests are a good way to develop characters and provide needed information or necessary tools. When the shift into the subplot is done right, it will keep the story moving forward. However, the transition must feel natural and organic to the main quest. Clumsy transitions make a story arc feel haphazard.

Also, while they are fun in an RPG video game, side quests that exist only to liven up a random, pointless plot arc don’t help.

In my favorite books, side quests worked because they were introduced after the book’s tone and central crisis were established, and they were crucial to completing the central quest.

A good, well-known example of a crucial side quest appears in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. Bilbo must get lost in the Misty Mountains and stumble across the One Ring. Possessing this magical artifact is essential to completing the main quest.

The possession and destruction of the Ring drives his nephew Frodo’s story, which is covered in three epic novels: The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

So, yes. Subplots that advance the main plot arc can provide small hooks that keep us reading and develop the story’s emotional side.

But let’s go back to the opening hook.

An example of an opening paragraph that conveys visual information is this:

A noise at the mess tent’s door alerted Callie Hanson to her boss’s presence. She looked up from her dinner of soup and bread. Donnal entered, sitting opposite her. “I hate to interrupt your meal, but one of the searchers fell and is badly hurt. You’re needed in surgery now.”

In that short story, the opening paragraph consists of 50 words. It introduces the protagonist, tells you where she is, and hints at the larger problem. It also introduces the inciting incident.

But what does a final paragraph do?

Here’s another example I have used before. The scene prior to this paragraph details a tense discussion and follows after a (now former) landlord’s stormy departure.

I stuffed my now empty wallet back into my pocket. Then I slung my laptop bag over my shoulder, picked up my suitcase, and looked around. No wife to kiss goodbye, no real home to leave behind, nothing of value to pack. Only the need to say goodbye to Portland and my failures. The quiet snick of the door closing behind me sounded like deliverance. I’d hit bottom, so things could only get better. Right?

The character in the above transition scene performs an action and moves on to the next event. It reveals his mood and some of his history in free indirect speech and propels him into the next chapter.

He does something: He performs an action, and that action gives us a great deal of information. It tells us that he is preparing to leave on an extended journey.

He shows us something: He shows us a barren existence and offers us his self-evaluation as a failure.

He tells us something:  He shows us his state of mind. The door has closed on an episode in his life, and he has no intention of going back.

This paragraph ends the chapter. When the next chapter opens, he steps into an opening paragraph that leads into the next action sequence. We find out who and what new misery is waiting for him on the other side of that door.

When you begin revising, look at the opening paragraph of each chapter. Ask yourself how you could rewrite it to convey information and lead the reader into the action. Then look at the final paragraph and ask yourself the same question.

Finding the right words to hook a reader, land them, and keep them hooked is a lot of work, but it will be worth it.

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September 18, 2026 · 6:00 am

#FineArtFriday: a second look at “Autumn Landscape (September)” by Lucas van Valckenborch, 1585

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Artist: Lucas van Valckenborch  (1535–1597)

Title: Autumn Landscape (September)

Date: 1585

Medium: oil on canvas

Dimensions: 116 x 198 cm Rahmenmaße: 131,5 x 214 x 6,5 cm

Collection: Kunsthistorisches Museum

What I love about this painting:

No matter how hard I scoured Wikimedia commons for the perfect September piece, I kept coming back to this image. It was first featured here in September of 2023, and I still  love everything about it.

We see an entire view of ordinary autumn life in the 16th century, but better than that, Lucas van Valckenborch shows us the passage of time. He depicts the chronology of how people lived and celebrated each week of the changing season by showing us September in the Netherlands.

The way he shows us this chronology is ingenious and is a signature of his work. The early weeks of September are shown in the left foreground, with laborers bringing in the harvest. Others are working to dry and preserve foods. The colors he uses are vivid, the last shades of summer.

In the bottom to middle right, he shows us mid-September with people relaxing, feasting, bowling, and dancing. The harvest is in, and people have a little time to enjoy the last days of good weather. The colors he uses are more muted, with shades of brown dominating. The leaves are brown and falling. Yet, there is a vibrancy about it, a sense of life. People celebrate a successful harvest one last time before winter’s cold grip closes in.

In late September, people fish, and the market becomes the center of village life. People are less active, but the market draws customers. The end of September presages colder weather and hints at the beginning of winter. This is shown in cool shades of gray, as if in a black-and-white photograph.

He is known for using this trick of color to denote receding distances. But he deliberately places figures performing specific activities within those colors, showing us how people lived and the passage of their days as well as distance.

The first days of September are bright, days of plenty. Yes, we’re working hard, but we’ll be grateful for the bounty when winter comes.

We look forward to the middle of September, because once the rush of harvest is over we will party like it’s 1585.

In the distance, we know the cold dark days loom, but we are prepared. Our cellars will be full and we will hunt and fish while we can.

Lucas van Valckenborch’s body of work shows us that he was a brilliant storyteller as well as an artist. Many paintings of that time show us the poverty, but here we see the prosperity of a village during the early renaissance. It wasn’t all doom and gloom after all.

About the Artist and his work, via Wikipedia:

Lucas van Valckenborch or Lucas van Valckenborch the Elder (c. 1535 in Leuven – 2 February 1597 in Frankfurt am Main) was a Flemish painter, mainly known for his landscapes. He also made contributions to portrait painting, and allegorical and market scenes. Court painter to Archduke Matthias, the governor of the Spanish Netherlands in Brussels, he later migrated to Austria and then Germany where he joined members of his extended family of artists who had moved there for religious reasons.

In their mixture of fantasy and accurate topographical details, van Valckenborch’s landscape paintings offer a view of the world and man’s relationship to it. This is particularly clear in his rocky landscapes in which the diminutive people on the winding path are reduced by the monumental cliffs. An example is the Rocky Landscape with Travelers on a Path (c. 1570, Sotheby’s 6 July 2016, London lot 3) where the distant goatherd and the silhouettes of his charges seem ant-like in comparison to the vast distance, and the vertiginous perspective of the scene. This dramatic visual depiction is clearly intended as a commentary on man’s place within the universe.

He also painted, between 1584 and 1587, a series of large pictures depicting the labours of the months, probably on commission for Archduke Matthias. These compositions, of which seven survive (five of which are in the Kunsthistorische Museum), present the various months of the year by showing the changing landscape and the traditional activities of humans during each month. It is not clear whether the five missing paintings were never painted or are lost.[4] Due to their realistic setting these compositions carry a documentary interest. The work of Pieter Bruegel the elder, who had painted a series of 6 on the times of the year, was influential on van Valckenborch. Lucas van Valckenborch moved away from the tradition of painting the landscape in three cascading distances that were rendered in three different colours: brown, green and blue for each receding plane. Rather he often left out the green tone for the middle distance. He also innovated the thematic scenes by developing them into genre scenes with a stronger narrative depth. [1]

Credits and Attributions:

[1] Wikipedia contributors, “Lucas van Valckenborch,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Lucas_van_Valckenborch&oldid=1173224796 (accessed September 14, 2023).

IMAGE: Autumn Landscape (September) by Lucas van Valckenborch. Wikimedia Commons contributors, “File:Lucas van Valckenborch – Autumn landscape (September).jpg,” Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Lucas_van_Valckenborch_-_Autumn_landscape_(September).jpg&oldid=618977280 (accessed September 14, 2023).

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September 14, 2026 · 6:00 am

Chapter length: What is enough and what is too much? #writing

Many times, I’m asked how long a chapter should be in a novel. Today seems like a good day to discuss this rather subjective topic.

Personally, I try to consider my readers’ comfort. I’m like many other readers. Once I begin reading a chapter, I want to finish it before I have to put the book down.

In my opinion, nothing is better than a long winter’s weekend spent sitting on the sofa in my comfy jammies, reading a book I’ve waited more than a year for.

However, life is hectic, and most of us rarely have the opportunity to sit and read all day, no matter how much we wish we could.

Having said all that, each author must decide what their style is based on their own reading preferences. This opinion might change as a writer’s career progresses, and it may not.

I’ve read and enjoyed many books where the authors made each scene a chapter. I barely noticed that detail because:

  1. Their transitions were smooth.
  2. The pacing was flawless.
  3. The story was engaging.

Some well-known authors limit their chapter length. One suggested 1500, while another has said not more than 2500.

One of my favorite authors sometimes has chapters of only five or six hundred words, which keeps each character’s storyline separate and flows well. For my storytelling style, 1,500 to 2,500 words is a good length. This allows a reader to take a break for whatever reason, and if the hook I ended the chapter on is good, they will return as soon as possible.

I feel that each chapter should detail the events of one scene or several closely related scenes. I see chapters the way I do paragraphs. Cramming widely different events into one place throws off the pacing. It makes the narrative feel erratic and disconnected.

Some books require longer sections. This is true of my novel, Julian Lackland. The overall story arc is comprised of short stories that detail important events in chronological order.

So, what is a transition?

Transitions move us from one scene to the next. They offer a chance to convey necessary information in just a few words.

Soft transitions: Brief conversations make good transitions to propel us to the next scene. They also offer ways to end a chapter with a tidbit of information that will compel the reader to turn the page. Information is crucial, so we want to provide it when the protagonist and the reader require it.

Hard transitions: This chapter is over. A new chapter begins.

Sometimes, a hard transition consists of a hashtag or extra space between closely related scenes. This is useful in a short story or when small incidents combine to form a larger crucial event that should be covered in one chapter.

When the next chapter opens, the protagonist steps into an opening paragraph that leads into the next action sequence. We find out who and what new misery is waiting for him on the other side of that door.

I use fade-to-black transitions only to finish certain kinds of events. I haven’t written smut in years, and don’t see a reason to start now. So, I use that literary device when two characters are romantically involved.

Consider the passage of time. When a real chunk of time has passed between the end of one event and the beginning of the next, end the chapter and give it a firm finish with a hook. Good hooks encourage the reader to keep turning the pages.

With each scene, we push all the main characters forward and raise the stakes a little more. Action and information keep the reader engaged. Good transitions are crucial to pacing. They let the reader reflect and absorb what they’ve learned before moving on to the next scene.

This brings me to how the narrative point of view can influence the length of a scene or chapter. Some editors suggest you change chapters, no matter how short, when you switch to a different character’s point of view.

I agree with this stance, as a hard transition when you switch narrator-characters is the best way to avoid head-hopping and subsequent confusion.

But what is head-hopping? When you change the narrative point of view in the same scene, one paragraph to the next, with no definite separation, you create a “viewpoint tennis match.”

First, you’re in Character A’s head hearing her thoughts, then you’re in Character B’s head hearing his. Then you’re back in A’s head. It becomes challenging to know who is speaking or thinking. The characters tend to lose their individuality and begin to sound the same.

However, sometimes it is okay to switch narrator-viewpoint within a chapter. Some events require showing more than one character’s perspective. However, be careful how you handle the narrator change. Use a hard break, such as an asterisk between the paragraphs where the switch is made.

Between the larger scenes and within the chapter, we might include bookend scenes as a soft transition. These will only be a paragraph long, a few words exchanged between characters as they progress to the next event, or even a mention of the world through the protagonist’s eyes. These scenes are short but should reveal something and push the story toward the unknown.

Bookend scenes lay the groundwork for what comes next.

The short transition from scene to scene does the heavy lifting when it comes to conveying information. It is the best opportunity for clues about the characters and their history to emerge without an info dump.

You may be wondering: should I use numbers, or give each chapter a title?

If snappy titles pop up in your mind for each chapter, by all means, go for it. Otherwise, numbered chapters are perfectly fine. Whichever style of chapter heading you choose, be consistent and stay with that choice for the entire book.

I try to end my chapters at a logical place with a hook that entices the reader to continue reading. Sometimes I am successful at that. Other times it’s hard to think of a good hook.

But each narrative has logical places where chapters should begin and end. You, as the author, get to choose what those places are. The length of your chapters is up to you.

 

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September 11, 2026 · 6:00 am

#FineArtFriday: Landscape with Haywain by Worthington Whittredge 1863

Artist: Worthington Whittredge (1820–1910)

Title: Landscape with Haywain

Date: 1863

Medium: oil on canvas

Dimensions: 24 x 36 in. (61 x 91.4 cm.)

Inscriptions: signed and dated ‘W. Whittredge./1863’ (lower right)

Collection: Cleveland Museum of Art

What I love about this painting:

Harvest is upon us! September has arrived and it is time to get as much hay stored away as possible. Whittredge has painted a glorious day at the end of summer. Everything is meticulously done, from the house on the shore of the lake below us, to the boulders left behind by glaciers, and the hayfield itself. Neat stacks of hay wait for the men to load onto the wagon, raked and stacked by the women.

Every member of the family is working together to get the job done, as they must get it under cover before the autumn rains come. Damp hay or straw goes moldy and becomes inedible. Worse, the heat generated by decomposition can cause it to spontaneously combust … and fire is a thing no one wants to have happen in their barn.

In centuries past, hay and straw were indispensable commodities. No family could do without either. Along with grain, hay fed the animals. Straw was useful as bedding for livestock and people, and when firewood ran low, it could be twisted tightly into logs and burned. Certain kinds of straw could be used to thatch a roof.

Making hay was a harvest-time activity that took place across the countryside in past generations and still does in our local farming communities. While tractors and baler machines have replaced horses and some of the labor, one can still see giant rolls of hay in the fields, waiting to be transported to the barns.

About the Artist:

Thomas Worthington Whittredge (May 22, 1820 – February 25, 1910) was an American artist of the Hudson River School. Whittredge was a highly regarded artist of his time, and was friends with several leading Hudson River School artists including Albert Bierstadt and Sanford Robinson Gifford. He traveled widely and excelled at landscape painting, many examples of which are now in major museums. He served as president of the National Academy of Design from 1874 to 1875 and was a member of the selection committees for the 1876 Philadelphia Centennial Exposition and the 1878 Paris Exposition, both important venues for artists of the day. [1]

To read more about this artist and his work, go to Worthington Whittredge – Wikipedia

Credits and Attributions:

IMAGE: Wikimedia Commons contributors, “File:Worthington Whittredge – Landscape with Haywain – 1975.20 – Cleveland Museum of Art.tiff,” Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Worthington_Whittredge_-_Landscape_with_Haywain_-_1975.20_-_Cleveland_Museum_of_Art.tiff&oldid=1259548575 (accessed September 8, 2026).

[1] Wikipedia contributors, “Worthington Whittredge,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Worthington_Whittredge&oldid=1366270905 (accessed September 8, 2026).

 

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