Perhaps the first question I should address is: why are we deconstructing this particular story?

I offer you several compelling reasons.

First, Shutter Island comes from the brilliant mind of perhaps the most critically acclaimed of today’s thriller writers, Dennis Lehane.  If we’re going to sit at someone’s feet and take notes, might as well be a proven genius.

Secondly, the story exists as both a movie and a novel, allowing us access in two realms and the opportunity to contrast them in ways that illuminate the author’s intention and technique.

Theory is great.  A killer example of exemplary execution is even better.

Thirdly, the story is extraordinarily complex, nuanced and uncompromisingly brilliant.  This isn’t an entry-level deconstruction, it’s like learning to fly by taking lessons in an F-18.

That said, I have every confidence we can handle it.

And finally, it’s a great model of story structure, not to mention characterization, theme and narrative manipulation.

Prepare for Deconstruction

You know how I feel about starting to write a story without completely understanding how it’s going to end, among a list of other critical things you need to wrap your head around prior to Page 1.

It’s no different when it comes to analyzing a story. 

And by the way, in case you’re wondering, it would be impossible to write a story like Shutter Island by pantsing your way through it.  Unless you have, say, twenty years to spend on about twenty-nine rewrites, and you also bring an evolved and enlightened understanding of story architecture to the process on the level of… well, Dennis Lehane.

Every single scene in this story is in context to how the story ends.

Imagine you’re a magician and you’re trying to figure out how another magician does a certain trick.   How the trick is done from a technical standpoint.  You can’t possibly conduct such an analysis, much less make sense of it, unless you know how the trick turns out.  What the trick is. 

Same with a story. 

Imagine trying to deconstruct The Sixth Sense without knowing that Bruce Willis is actually dead the whole time, without knowing that he doesn’t know that he’s a ghost.  It wouldn’t work – you’d have to see it again, and perhaps again after that, to get any benefit from a deconstruction.

That very trick made the film — which Robert Mckee sites as one of the worst screenplays in modern cinema — about $600 million.

This is just as true, if not more so, when it comes to Shutter Island.  Which, by the way, is one of the better screenplays in modern cinema, at least in the thriller/period genre.

Because much like The Sixth Sense, what you experience on a first viewing turns out to be something completely different than you thought as you sat there and munched your popcorn in wide-eyed wonder. 

Not that you couldn’t guess what’s going on.  But even then, you couldn’t completely connect all the dots. 

Oh, you’ll have guessed some of it by the end of Part 3.  But by then it’s too late. because you’ll have missed practically all of the brilliant foreshadowing and double-nuanced sublety that, upon a second viewer, practically screams the truth.

Connecting the dots is precisely what a deconstruction is all about.

Once you do know how a story ends, then upon seeing it or reading it again, you can see how the author made it happen.  How the author fooled you into buying into one particular reality, when another reality was the case all along.

Only when you know the ultimate trick can you productively deconstruct a masterpiece of dramatic deception, character arc and narrative tension.

You’ll need to experience the story twice.  Or more.

Or, you can read the novel and then see the flick.  Vice versa if you prefer.  In either case, it’s that second round that will give you, the analytical writer, the learning experience you seek.

If you haven’t yet seen Shutter Island or read the book, then by all means try to do so by next Monday (or before you read this deconstruction if you’ve arrived  here after-the-fact), when the first analytical post will appear.  See it for the experience, the entertainment value, feel free to get swept away. 

If you can’t do that, keep reading, I have a solution for you.  In a moment.

Don’t try to analyze it yet… because you can’t.  Not until the second pass.

The second pass is like having the author sitting next to you explaining what you didn’t notice or understand the first time.

If you’re a novelist, I highly recommend seeing the movie first, then reading the book to see how the author made it all happen.

If you’re a screenwriter, read the book first and then see the movie to see how the screenwriter adapted the story.

Either way, you’ll have experienced the story twice, and that’s imperative to getting the most out of this exercise.  More so than in pretty much any other story out there.

That’s how rich and complex this story is.

The Optional Spoiler Alert — Learn the Secret Meaning of it all Here

Some of you won’t have the opportunity to see the movie by next Monday, since it’s near the end of its run.  If you live in a rural area or a small town, chances are the film has come and gone.  And it’s not yet out on DVD.

The book, however, should be available anywhere, unless you live where the postman needs an airplane to deliver your Amazon.com order.

For those of you who can’t get it done by Monday, and who still want to benefit from this deconstruction, I’m going to tell you the movie’s secret.  Right here, right now. 

CLICK HERE to get that information.  It’s not like actually seeing the film or reading it, but it will tell you the movie’s outcome, its trick, its ultimate secret.

Know it, and you can then benefit from this analysis in a much more enlightened way.

Nothing about Shutter Island is what it seems to be.  At least the first time through.

If you don’t want to know, if you’re going to see the film or read the book before Monday, stop reading here. 

Otherwise, CLICK HERE for the spoiler.

The deconstruction begins here on Monday, April 26.  If it’s remotely possible, try to see the film or read the book before then.

If you have thoughts about this story pre-deconstruction, I’d love to hear from you.  Did it fool you?  Did you guess any of it?  In either case, upon reaching the end, can you look back and see how Lehane was completely messing with our heads the whole time?

And most importantly, did you spot the major story milestones and sense the shifting context over the four sequential parts?

All that will be exposed and explored, beginning Monday.

1) Welcome to Shutter Island is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Really.  And he’s 6′8″, too. 

With Michael Crichton’s sad and sudden departure that makes Josh the tallest novelist on the planet. 

Which means I’m the second tallest.  As for the strongest novelist badge — I’ll concede the Strongest Libarian title — we haven’t gone mano-a-mono in the gym yet (we can both bench press John Grisham’s checkbook) so that’s a push at this point.  But I’ve seen his picture, and I’m worried.

Josh Hanagarne is the real deal. 

On his site he writes about life and love and fitness, especially kettleballs, for which he as an abundant passion.  He writes about other people that are worth writing about.  He also writes, and with great courage and hope and personal intimacy, about Tourette’s Syndrome.

His first novel is out, and it’s worth the time.  Because Josh is worth the time.

It’s called The Knot, which, if you’re into metaphor, is a home run title.

So I invite you to go HERE to read about it, order it, then read it.  And while you’re there check out his site, which is exploding as we speak (er… read), and has already landed him another book deal.

You can also read about it this morning at Cleavage, where the Kelly Diels holds court with her usual brilliant panache and aplomb.

Love those two words.

Meanwhile, at back Storyfix…

I’m preparing for next week’s 5-part Online Workshop at Savvy Authors on Story Structure.  For five whole dollars, if you’re interested.  Check it out here.

Check out “The Knot” by Josh Hanagarne — The World’s Strongest Librarian is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Click HERE to read Part 1 of this article, wherein I explain why writing this novel scared the hell out of me. Maybe even literally.

The Story Behind Whisper of the Seventh Thunder

Consider this for a moment.  If you don’t believe any of it, then big deal, you keep writing.  But I did believe, and I still do.  I was entering dangerous waters, and I would quickly be in over my head.

I then asked myself the question that would trigger the book as I would end up writing it.  The one that is published today.

What would happen to me if I actually did write the book as I had planned? 

If I tried to faithfully depict the end times according to John’s vision, setting those events in present day?

It was then that a terrifying thought hit me: what if I got it right?  What if, in my creative imagination of how the world might descend to an apocalyptic point, I actually – and coincidentally – hit upon the very thing that John was instructed not to write down?

I’d be guessing of course, taking literary liberty… or would I?

I can’t describe the shiver that went up my spine at the moment that specific thought entered my head.  It happened thirty years ago, and I remember it like it was this morning.

In fact, a similar chill did hit me this morning when I realized what I’ve done in Whisper of the Seventh Thunder.  Not by intention, but by invention in the name of literary license.

But I digress… back to about 1982 now.

I got scared.  Scared enough to abandon the idea of “novelizing” the Book of Revelation.  Maybe not such a good financial or career move, given that 13 years later two guys named Tim LeHaye and Jerry Jenkins would do precisely that by launching a series of novels called The Left Behind Series, each of which was a runaway New York Times bestseller that in total sold in the neighborhood of 80 million copies.

Guess they weren’t as scared as I was. 

It’s interesting to note that LeHaye was an established religious writer and preacher – one wonders if that licenses one to defy the admonitions of scripture – while Jenkins was the hired-gun writer. 

Be that as it may, there I was back in the early 80’s all conflicted with how to handle this idea.

In quest of help I consulted experts from three realms. 

First, I talked to people I knew about the story idea at its most basic level, including the scripture that terrified me and the inherent potential risks.  Opinions were polarized from two camps: fervent believers and more casual folks who weren’t sure.  The former warned me off my original story, and the latter just shrugged and wanted to quickly change the subject.

I then talked to a couple of ministers, and in direct contradiction (and to their horror), a psychic.  Interestingly, they all told me the same thing.

I was warned that dark forces might take an interest in this project.  And by dark forces they weren’t referring to greedy publishing types in New York with connections to powerful Sicilian families.  No, they feared that elements of a dark spiritual nature might try to intervene, to actually trick me into defying the word of God and write the book as I’d originally envisioned it.  Why?  Because dark forces would like nothing more than to defy God’s word, or even to upset the apocalyptic timetable.

I remember thinking at the time that this decision point – whether to blindly submit to faith, or follow one’s very human heart in pursuit of earthly success – was the state of the human condition for everyone, even those who aren’t writing a book about it.  We are tempted daily, and we decide based on the culmination of many factors, including the strength of our faith.

It was the minister who said this: “You may hear a knocking on a door that you shouldn’t answer.  I would proceed with great caution if I were you.”

If I was scared before, I was utterly, completely terrified now. 

I swore off the notion of writing this book and tried to get on with my life.  Which in my writing manifested as the beginning of an interest in screenwriting and the development of a bunch of scripts that would, in a roundabout way, bring me to where I am today with this project.

Over the next few years I never completely lost interest in the topic, primarily because of my fascination with Revelation 10:4.  I’d never heard it discussed before – though again I must remind the reader that I wasn’t an overly active or even religious person, nor did I ever attend any Bible study in which such a discussion might have gone down. 

I can’t say for sure, as I can with the original idea, when the actual premise for what is today Whisper of the Seventh Thunder struck me.  But I can say with absolute certainly that it was an evolution of my experience with the original idea, as fueled by the emotion and fear that ended up being attached to it.

That level of terror was too good to waste.  There are tens of millions of people who do believe, or want to believe, and an even larger number of people who at least know people who believe.

The concept of the book today.

This is simply stated.  Instead of novelizing the Book of Revelation, I wrote a novel about a writer who novelizes the Book of Revelation.  A writer who does what I was too afraid – or perhaps respectful of my core beliefs – to do.

Gabriel Stone had always wanted to write about the Book of Revelation in the form of a novel.  Life and a successful marriage got in the way, with his very religious wife urging him strongly to not write the book, that it would open the wrong doors and perhaps defy the very word of God himself.

And then she dies.  Suddenly, mysteriously, and coincidentally with a phone message he finds after learning of her death, telling him she’d changed her mind about his book and encouraging him to go for it.

Stone soon finds himself the pawn, even the centerpiece, in a battle for the survival and explosive success of his book, which does, in fact, specific precisely what John in the visions of the Seven Thunders, including the final one that he was instructed to never write down.

Gabriel Stone did write it down.  And if some people have their way, millions will read it.  Meanwhile there are others who get wind of the project and will stop at nothing to block its path to publication, including the complete disappearance of the author and his manuscript.

The fuse has been lit.  Gabriel Stone had unwittingly struck the match.  And now, it would be up to him to decide the outcome, which just might be the fate of the entire world as we know it.

The scales of his decision would be balanced by very human decisions based on ambition, materialism, fame and even greed, as opposed to the blind faith that Stone had struggled with his entire life.

That is the foundational premise of Whisper of the Seventh Thunder. 

You don’t have to believe in either God or the Bible to understand and hopefully be gripped by the story in this novel.  You only have to believe that there are some people who will do anything in the name of what they believe – one only has to look as far as the 9-11 tragedy to see that this is valid and current – including taking very human steps to help fulfill the prophecies that reside at the core of their belief system.

It is when those belief systems collide that we must resort to our faith to survive.

Whisper of the Seventh Thunder isn’t so much an apocalyptic thriller as it is a political thriller about the last days leading up to what some might believe to be the ignition of an apocalyptic fuse… all of it with sub-text that some might construe as coming from somewhere other than, and higher than us, as well.

As for me, the writing of this book has solidified my faith through the exploration of it.  The road remains long, but as my sister recently told me, don’t sweat the details. Just let God be God.

Check out the book’s website HERE (this article is one of several features you’ll find there.)

And of course, you can buy it on Amazon HERE, or ask your favorite bookseller to order you a copy.  Always appreciated.

(Storyfix.com is an affiliate marketer for Amazon.com.  Duh.)

Part 2: Why It Took Me 28 Years to Write My “Latest” Novel is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

The Story Behind Whisper of the Seventh Thunder

Part 1 of 2.

People ask me all the time where I get my ideas.  I have two answers.  One is for writers, and I usually give it at my writing workshops in context to seizing a teachable moment. 

The other is less precise, and much longer.

Story ideas come from somewhere we cannot completely understand.  Some intersection of our interests, our fears, our desires, our questions and – this is the mysterious part – something outside of ourselves.  Perhaps a calling, maybe a warning, but always a gentle push toward something we might not consider on our own, or even fully understand. 

Whisper was like that for me.

Sometimes we pass this off as growth.  In the case of Whisper, I’m convinced it was something more.

The core idea of this book came to me in 1978, in the middle of the night.  I bolted upright with the clarity of it, then quickly went back to sleep peacefully. 

The story emerged nearly 30 years later in the form of a novel, and the space between those two milestones continues to confound and intrigue me.

I actually didn’t write my original idea, and for a couple of reasons.

The first was that I felt the idea was beyond me at the time.  That I wasn’t ready for it. 

I’d written a bunch of stuff that was, quite deservedly, unpublished, and knew that to tackle a story on this scale required more skill than I possessed, or perhaps that I would ever possess.  Also, given the scope, I felt I needed to have already established some equity in the market as a writer, and while that didn’t quite happen to my satisfaction, about 25 years later I knew that after publishing four fairly successful novels it was now or never.

The other reason was that the original idea scared the hell out of me.

I was in my mid-20s at the time, and like many young adults I was exploring my own religious sensibilities and options.  I’d been brought up in a church-going home by a well-meaning alcoholic mother and an equally-well meaning Iowa farm boy with a temper and social issues, which created a confusing landscape of spiritual mentoring and modeling. 

I was pretty much on my own to figure out who I was and what I believed in that regard.  My sister was much better at it – she’s the finest Christian I know – but I continue to struggle with it to this day.

Even though I wasn’t much of a Bible reader, the Book of Revelation fascinated me from the beginning.  More accurately, it frightened me, and more than a little. 

If you don’t have any beliefs about God or the Bible, then Revelation is a distant or perhaps non-existent book of prophecy that reads like a fairy tale and has been inspiration for more than a few scary movies.

But if you do believe in the veracity of the Bible, this is like your parents telling you that the airplane is going to crash with you in it – this conversation is happening while you’re in the air, by the way – and if you have faith God will save you from the burning wreckage

The analogies and images from Revelations are not far removed from that metaphoric scenario.

At about the time the initial story came to me – I’m sure this is not a coincidence – I discovered the writings of Hal Lindsey (The Late Great Planet Earth), who had written several bestsellers that sought to explore and present the prophecies of the Book of Revelation in context to modern times.  Lindsey went so far as to interpret the cryptic descriptions related by the author (St. John – though which St. John remains in dispute – who received these revelations from a visiting angel while confined to a cave on the Island of Patmos off the coast of Ephesus, near what we called Turkey today). 

Lindsey gave the visceral meat of 20^th century visualization to images that, he claimed, John had no meaningful reference for, therefore no other way to describe them than the cryptic, fantastic, ancient verbiage we read today.  What John saw as massive flying locust with stingers of death in their tails could be, according to Lindsey, military helicopters spitting lead from a rapid-fire machine gun.  Certain kings and prophets and emissaries of Satan were assigned roles in today’s global political landscape, including our own Presidents, and the whole thing suddenly seemed very real, and very terrifying.

In the midst of being enthralled and terrified and challenged by all of this, an idea came to me in the form of a question: what if I novelized the book of Revelation?  What if I did in fiction what Lindsey did in a non-fiction way and assigned present-day interpretation to John’s apocalyptic visions as described in Revelations, and then weaved a credible story around them, complete with political and social relevance? 

The idea gripped me like a religious Epiphany.  And so I began to study Revelations, as well as other books on the subject.

My mother and sister thought I had found the Lord, but actually I was trying to research a potential bestseller.

And that’s when I got really scared.

In my study of Revelation I came across two verses of Scripture that would change everything, and would be the basis for a hesitance to the write this story that would last nearly 30 years.

I knew I needed a hook, a McGuffin around which to wrap this story.  In searching Revelations for such an idea, those two verses rose up and slapped me into a confused stupor that would became the journey of the writing of this story, both from a literary and personal perspective.

The McGuffin, the hook I had been looking for, was the possible interpretation of Revelations Chapter 10, verse 4, in the midst of a description of what John saw as visions foretold by the voice of what he described as seven thunders.  He had already seen and written about visions from seven trumpets and seven bowls, and the seven thunders were the apocalyptic conclusion:

And when the seven thunders spoke, I was about to write; but I heard a voice from heaven say, “Seal up what the seven thunders have said and do not write it down.”

To this day no human being has the slightest clue what that vision might have been.

The significance of that stopped me in my tracks for many years.

What could possibly be the rationale behind this Biblical instruction? 

The possibilities consumed me, literary and otherwise.  I concluded that since Revelations was, in fact, a description of the end of times, that it was the prophesized Armageddon itself, it could be nothing other than the key to knowing when it would happen. 

Revelation 10:4 was an apocalyptic timetable.  The gateway to eternity. 

Or so I chose to believe.

Why else would it be forbidden to commit to print?  For us to know and understand?  The actual events themselves had been described in detail, albeit from John’s two millennia-old, very human social perspective.  John wasn’t told the meaning of anything he saw, he simply wrote down what he saw in these visions, describing it in his own words. 

The answer held incredible dramatic potential.

I should state here that my intention and interest was always from a literary experience, rather than a spiritual one.  While respectful of the latter, even hopeful for it, it was never my purpose to preach or to evangelize, simply to write a fascinating story that capture the heart and soul of a reader to the same degree the entire landscape of Revelations had captured mine.

I was, and am, the last person who should be writing a book about religion, the Bible or anything close to sheparding folks toward the light.  Whisper of the Seventh Thunder is a secular thriller, not a religious book, in the same way that The DaVinci Code is not remotely a “Christian novel.”  Nothing wrong with those, it’s just the wrong place in the bookstore to file Whisper.

Given that context, about which I was clear even back then, I began to dig deeper.  I started concocting political scenarios on a global scale that would fit with what John had written, and might, in fact, be harbingers of a coming apocalyptic confrontation should things get out of hand.

And in that process I stumbled upon the real deal-changer.  

It was another passage from Revelation, this one from the final page of the entire Bible, Chapter 22, verses 18 and 19:

I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: If anyone adds anything to them, God will add to him the plagues described in this book.  And if anyone takes words away from this book of prophecy, God will take away from him his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book.

In other words, I’m goin’ straight to hell if I mess with this stuff.

Tomorrow: Part 2 of “Why It Took Me 28 Years to Write My “Latest” Novel”.

Check out the book’s website HERE (this article is one of several features you’ll find there.)

And of course, you can buy it on Amazon HERE, or ask your favorite bookseller to order you a copy.  Always appreciated.

(Storyfix.com is an affiliate marketer for Amazon.com.  Please buy your next 700 books by going there from here, which is about what it’d take for me to replace my printer cartridge.)

Why It Took Me 28 Years to Write My “Latest” Novel is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

I gotta admit, this pisses me off.  And if you buy into the first half of that headline, it should piss you off, too.

Because somebody’s gonna read last Fridays’ Wall Street Journal article entitled, “How to Write A Great Novel,” and they’ll to go back to their stories and emulate the supposed strategies of the greats.  Things like growing a beard, writing on trains, experimenting with font styles and playing with cool pens, and going old school by writing their manuscripts by hand.

Like any of that is gonna make you great.   

All because the 11 noted authors in this article did all that stuff, and more.

Rather than actually tell us how to write a great novel – which would have been a neat trick, at best – this article tells us just how human, mixed up and challenged – even clueless –  the most successful among us can be.  And perhaps how damn hard it is to do what the title implies is forthcoming.

That said, I think you should read it.  Because, if you can get past the cheap glow of literary celebrity, it should make you feel a whole lot better about how you go about writing a novel.

They’re Just Like Us… Insecure and Completely Alone with Their Stories

I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I haven’t heard of over half of the authors who made the cut for this article.  Names like Junot Diaz (Pulitzer Prize winner), Orhan Pamuk (Nobel Prize Winner), Edwidge Danticat, Amitav Ghosh, who join more familiar names like Anne Rice, Laura Lippman and Margaret Atwood in, supposedly, telling us how to write a great novel.

Let me inject a spoiler here: it doesn’t happen.  Not even close. 

While there is indeed a bit about the writing process, the article is completely void of creative storytelling wisdom or technical literary insight.  Then again, process is the thing people seem to argue about most – I still have pantsers putting out hits on me – so in that vein, in much the same way we are fascinated by the latest foibles of greats such as Britney Spears and Jon and Kate Goslin, you may be entertained.

One author I have heard of wasn’t among these interviewees, yet was nonetheless quoted with what I think was the best morsel of advice of all: John Irving says the first thing he writes is the last sentence of the book.

Love that.  Huge insight and wisdom there.  Because you can’t and won’t write a great novel unless and until you know how your story is going to end.  And no matter how you write it, the entire process is all about that discovery. 

And that pretty much sums up the actual “how to” value in the entire piece. 

From there it gets, well, positively gossipy. 

We learn that one writer likes to dress up like his characters and videotape himself running lines.  He admits that the first draft of his book (out this fall) was “a mess,” so – and this is pure genius, at least until he realized it didn’t work – he found a random number generator online and used it to randomly rearrange his many chapters.  Of course, this resulted in an even more randomly chaotic mess, leaving him with the rather ordinary task of trying to put it all into some semblance of a structure.

Feel better now?  I thought you might.

Another rewrites his opening line 50 to 100 times – more pure genius – while another narrates the story into a recorder and mails it all off to a typist, never setting finger to keyboard the entire time.  Several write their stories in longhand before setting themselves in front of a keyboard, which, in my view, is about as inspired and effective as commuting to work in Manhattan via tricycle.

One guy wouldn’t reveal his top secret writing process at all, perhaps fearing he’d look as completely mundane and uninspiring as the rest of these authors.

The Ways and Means of Finding Story Structure

What was most fascinating – and dare I say, validating – is that all but one of these authors spend significant time nailing down the content and sequence of their stories before they even begin assembling an actual working draft. 

Some write a few chapters along the way but have the discipline and presence of mind to set them aside until those chapters have a place in the dance line.  They use note cards, bulletin boards, notebooks and other common means of exploring storytelling alternatives, and only when that sequence is solid and in line with accepted principles of story structure – let’s assume, from their results, that they understand this concept — do they go about the business of actually writing the story in an official manner. 

The one who didn’t?  Who tried to pants her way to a draft that works?  She confesses that with her first novel she had to throw away the first 150 pages, which –and here’s the disturbing don’t-try-this-at-home part —  took her two years to write.  Then she confesses that she did the same thing with her second, third and fourth novels, until she finally figured out enough about story structure, in an intuitive sense, to realize that trying to make up her own principles of storytelling just wasn’t working.

That must be working just fine – Kate Christensen won the PEN/Faulkner Award last year.

What Works, What Doesn’t

Because I don’t want this article to be guilty of the very thing I’m railing against in reference to the WSJ piece, allow me to inject a little content here.

As I’ve said here many times, the only way pantsing a story will ever work is if and when the writer gets story architecture, inside and out.  Then, and only then, will it finally begin to pour out of their head in the right order. Because now they know what they’re doing.  They’re not making up random rules about their craft as they go along, either to suit their needs or in the absence of an awareness that such principles even exist (the sad state of many authors, pantsers and plotters alike… but more-so on the pantsing side).  And even then, multiple drafts define the process, because you can’t write a submitable draft until you know how the story is going to end.

Alexandra Alter should have put that into her article.  At least, if she wanted to come somewhere near the neighborhood of her title.

Fun With Ways and Means

It’s fun to see what means these authors go to in quest of inspiration and sanity.  Many of them, to my great pleasure, are the very same tips and ideas I’ve set forth in my ebook, 101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters.   And the structure they seek and ultimately master is precisely that I discuss in my other, newer ebook, Story Structure – Demystified.

Guess those tips aren’t as unpredictable as I thought, while being every bit as effective as I knew they were.  I’m just sayin’.

So by all means, check this WSJ piece out.  You can get it right here.

And please, feel better.  We’re all in this together, great and small, published and nonpublished, pantser or plotter, green-behind-the-gills rookie and grouchy writing instructor types alike.

(NOTE: two posts today… read the next one for a movie you should see to learn about Story Structure.)

“How to Write a Great Novel” – Why the Wall Street Journal Got it Wrong is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

No, it’s not me. His name is Colin Harrison.

There’s great value in studying the work of others. This goes for good books, great books and lousy books — there’s always something to learn. But to learn it, you need to understand the criteria of a well written story.  And if you’re a writer, that criteria is much more detailed than that of the average reader.

Book reviews help, because they highlight what works and what doesn’t.  I’ve written a truckload, and they’ll appear here from time to time in the name of illuminating the great mystery of writing a great book.  This is the first of them.

“The Havana Room”
by Colin Harrison

a book review by Larry Brooks

Copyright 2004, The Oregonian Newspaper

The novels of Colin Harrison are not for everybody. If you’re the “easy read” type who buys paperbacks to kill time on airplanes, you’d do well to stick to your legal thrillers and serial homicide whodunits. If you’re a glutton for the details of pathology and the minutia of technology, then by all means keep the latest Cornwell, Crichton or Clancy handy. And if you’re into the latest “chick-lit,” or saucy formulaic romances, or “literary fiction” that gets mentioned in the same breath with names such as Pulitzer, Nobel and Oprah, then Harrison just might scare you to death.  But know this, straight from the takes-one-to-know-one file: chances are the authors who write your favorite books read Colin Harrison in their spare time.

Colin Harrison is for readers who love words. Who delight in colorful sentences that meander into metaphor, who lose themselves in paragraphs that unflinchingly plumb psychological depths without judgment or pulled punches, all with the rhythm and witty nuance of a noir poet. Harrison is also for people who revel in exquisite storytelling, who relish immersion into a world populated with characters who reflect our dreams and terrors and, perhaps most unsettling of all, our interpersonal demons. His novels are studies in layered plotting, calculated pacing and the gritty realism of place, stories that unspool within a tableau of the unusual and the unexpected.

But do not be fooled by the rhetoric of praise. His novels are, to revert to a grand cliché, the kind you simply cannot put down.

With The Havana Room, Colin Harrison once again justifies that rhetoric. Like his previous novels (Afterburn, which was on nearly every list of best books of 2000; and 1997’s elegant Manhattan Nocturne), this new tale once again peels back the skin of life and death in the streets and tenements and cafes of New York like a gleeful forensic surgeon, introducing us to our worst nightmare of how quickly and completely a seemingly happy urban existence can detonate. When the world of budding legal eagle Bill Wyeth implodes through no fault of his own – a sequence that will have you rethinking all facets of domestic nonchalance – he takes refuge in a dark and smoky mid-town steakhouse, managed by an equally dark and smoky woman with more on her mind than employee turnover. Downstairs is a very private and, we all soon learn, bizarre lounge called The Havana Room. It is here were our hero encounters the ultimate test of his mettle, disguised as unwanted opportunity and soon chasing after him with guns and lawsuits and hallucinogenic seafood.  He is sucked into a dark abyss of deception simply because he is “a good guy,” and he must cling to the connective tissue of his integrity in order to survive some very adept efforts to destroy him.

In typical Harrison fashion, the story at a glance defies compelling description – none of the basic tenets of crime fiction are here, no burned-out detectives, no grumpy lieutenants, no brilliant criminal masterminds, just a real estate deal from hell and a moving fraternal morality play – in part because of its off-the-wall originality, and in part because it unfolds like a reality television series in which each test is more twisted and bizarre than the last. And because Wyeth has so much at stake – career, family, health, self-respect, survival… indeed, because we are Wyeth – we hang on every new torment thrown at him, rendered in scenes so vivid you may find yourself re-reading them before moving on, just to be sure you got it all, just to again experience the melody of the words.

The Best Stylist Writing Thrillers Today is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

The best gifts come unexpectedly, sometimes in unlikely wrappers. My journey as a writer has been typically long, arduous, ecstatic and occasionally both painful and fruitful, and along the way I’ve studied the craft in various forms. That journey has required several business cards, in no particular order (because I do them concurrently and intermittently): copywriter, creative director, freelance writer, novelist, screenwriter, writing teacher, blogger. Every named category here has a shelf full of how-to books, and I’ve read most of them. One of them changed my life.

Here’s the unexpected part: the best book I’ve ever read about writing novels was a book about writing screenplays. A little background: as a younger man, I wrote six novels that failed to find a publisher. They were all high-concept stories (like, what happens when all of the geezers who were hiding the truth about the Kennedy assassination began to die off, and what if one of them wanted to buy his way into heaven by outing the truth?), and while I received the occasional encouraging note from an editor advising me to learn the craft, I didn’t really understand what that meant, and as a result, why those books didn’t sell. Then, thanks to a fortuitous convergence with a small-time movie producer, I was given the chance to write a screenplay and actually get paid for it (well below Guild minimums, I assure you), and having never written one before, I decided it wise to read up on the subject.

And that’s when I found the book that changed my life. Because with screenwriting, it’s all about character and story, and very little about nifty sentences (which most new writers cling to, as I did, as their primary passion and weapon, which is why, as I did, most new writers color their narrative with too much purple). This book illuminates the structure and standards of storytelling, and to this day I’ve never seen a workshop instructor or a book do it as well.

Storytelling is storytelling. Don’t let anybody tell you that screenwriting isn’t writing, or that it differs from writing novels in terms of storytelling basics. It doesn’t. The only people who say that are elitist novelists who can’t sell their screenplays and the handful of successful screenwriters with prose like cardboard.

The book is simply entitled SCREENPLAY, by a iconic fellow named Syd Field. It’s in its bazilliionth printing, and is largely considered the bible of screenwriting by the multitude of wannabe screenwriters, which outnumber wannabe novelists by orders of magnitude.

The moment I applied the principles of storytelling as defined and taught in SCREENPLAY by Syd Field, I suddenly understood why my novels hadn’t sold, and then, why my screenplays suddenly began getting some attention in Hollywood (two options, seven big-time contest placements).

My wife, Laura, had the brilliant idea that I go back to my original passion, writing novels, and apply what I’ve learned as a screenwriter. So I adapted one of my own screenplays, called “In Darkness Bound,” and wrote it as a novel, using the same structure, character and thematic arc.

The novel sold immediately, first submission. The first draft required only twenty minutes of editing to get the editor at Penguin Putnam to sign off on it, and that’s the version that was published and became a USA Today bestseller.

Syd Field changed my life. His theories – which he doesn’t claim as proprietary, only as proven truths – are the basis of not only my writing, but of my instructing. To my knowledge I’m the only novel writing teacher who has adapted that developmental to novels, and luckily I have the war stories to prove it valid. Many of my students say that, after decades of workshops and study, it’s the best and most liberating, encouraging, and valid thing they’ve ever heard. Syd Field, through me, changed their writing lives, too.

The book is called SCREENPLAY. The author is Syd Field. If you can’t get your head around great storytelling, if you’re looking for a blueprint to tell a story in the same way that a builder needs a blueprint to erect a structure, this is the book.

The Best Book on Writing I’ve Ever Read is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com