Build Your Skills Through Improv Writing

By: Deb Courtney

Among the many reasons I am a fan of Improv writing (writing to prompts) is that it can allow us to focus tightly on improving very specific skills. For the 7/11 “Write Drunk*, Edit Sober” Improv meeting, we drew in tightly on dialog – both spoken and inner dialog.

Dialog serves two very basic functions in fiction:

1)    Reveal Character

2)    Drive Plot

There are a number of techniques that can be employed when writing dialog, but essentially they play out to perform the following:

Dialog that reveals character does so via interaction with others or vis interactions with self. Your characters reveal traits, thoughts, feelings, life approach, and more, to each other and to the reader when they speak directly to each other. Direct and indirect inner dialog reveals the POV character to the reader, and sometimes provides insight into the POV character FOR the POV character (as in those moments when you realize something important about yourself).

Dialog that reveals plot does so by providing information that moves the plot along that is not available to a character via any other method. It can also reveal partial information vis a vis clues that contextually can lead to discovery. Internal dialog which reveals plot is a method by which the character lets the reader in on important information which only the POV character knows, while keeping other characters in the dark.

Inner dialog technically is accomplished two ways.

1)    Direct Inner – typically enclosed in quotes and indicate the POV character is speaking directly to his or herself. Generally, but not exclusively used for short statements.

2)    Indirect inner – this is more a stream of consciousness or running commentary, and might be in italics but not enclosed in quotes. Used for longer passages.

Inner dialog is used for revelations, self-talk (this can be negative and used to set up dichotomies between a character’s internal views of self versus the presented views to other characters), and for not-quite direct interaction with the reader. This is not to be confused with the narrator or narrative voice, which may or not be the same as your main POV character, but in some cases will be (First Person, certainly).

Keeping all of that in mind, I set out to design prompts, which did not suggest locale, vaguely suggested potential conflict, and were springboards for either inner or outer dialog. In addition, I used gender-neutral names so as not to insinuate specific situations. Prompts for dialog night were presented in First Person but participants were encouraged to change to any other POV that would suit them.

The Prompts:

1)    I never knew what would come out of my mouth next.

2)    Taylor’s eyes narrowed and I tensed. “Don’t go there,” I urged myself.

3)    It was the same conversation I always had with myself.

4)    It appeared Chris really was talking to me.

And because we had time, and I had the forethought to put one together, one bonus that was not as general or vague.

Bonus:  Why did you have to make me fall I love? I asked in a small voice.

Hope one of these inspires you to write a short dialog-focused response. Feel free to share in the comments if you do!

“Write Drunk*, Edit Sober,” takes place on the second Wednesday of every month at Bar-K located in Downtown Colorado Springs. The format is generally a brief setup of the focus for the session’s prompts, followed by 4 approximately 15 minute writing sessions.  *Pikes Peak Writers does not advocate actually writing drunk. Please imbibe responsibly. Alcohol consumption is not a required component of the improv sessions.

About the Author: Deb holds a degree in Fiction from the University of South Florida, where she was a Saunders Scholar in Fiction. She has had numerous short stories published and has worked as a freelance journalist. Her background includes marketing and public relations in several business sectors. Her most recent venture is Courtney Literary.

PPWC 2014 Q&A - Deb Courtney

1. What was the defining moment that made your realize you wanted to be an author?

I wrote my first short story when I was about 7. I have always been a word person. I became a small publisher when I realized I could put my professional background in marketing, project management, publication management/editing and journalism all to work in a way that would work well in the rapidly changing publishing arena.

2. What is the one thing you cannot work without? What is your creative vice?

I need an internet connection AND a computer AND a cool notebook AND a pen with the perfect width, heft and ink flow. My creative vice is liking repetition too much. I am overly fond of repetition, and like to repeat myself for emphasis as a literary tool. A lot. Repeatedly.

3. If you could 'revive' any literary figure from the past for a one hour conversation, who would you choose?

Shakespeare. He was the genre writer of his time and yet his works have clearly stood the test of time. I'd like to understand the difference between what he intended to do, and what he actually accomplished, and how he feels about it.

4. What is one of your more notable or unusual conference or convention experiences?

I read the first page of my own work-in-progress out loud and was met with stunned silence. I assumed it was because it was awful, and was surprised to get a super enthusiastic response, especially in light of having used the F-word maybe 4 times in that first page. That's me, swearing in public since the late 1970s.

5. If we asked your friends and family to compare you to a cartoon character, which would they choose, and why?

Jessica Rabbit. Slightly conniving, surprisingly intelligent, with a true love of revealing clothing and stilettos.

6. What is one thing would you like aspiring authors to know about the road to success?

That writing the number of words that constitutes a full manuscript isn't enough. When you hit 80,000 or so words what you have is a perfectly square block of marble, a starting point. The talent is in carving away the excess and refining that block into its true essence, doing the hard work until you reveal the work of art inside.

About the Author: Deb holds a degree in Fiction from the University of South Florida, where she was a Saunders Scholar in Fiction. She has had numerous short stories published and has worked as a freelance journalist. Her background includes marketing and public relations in several business sectors. Her most recent venture is Courtney Literary.

PPW Open Critique - February

February 20th

Open Critique - FREE

Third Wednesday of every month

6:00 - 8:30 p.m.

Cottonwood Center for the Arts
427 East Colorado Avenue
Colorado Springs, CO

This FREE program provides a critique experience for a small number of writers who seek feedback on manuscript pages and who want to learn how to have positive critique group experiences.

PPW's Open Critique program is facilitated by Mary Karen Meredith, with regular critique guest Deb Courtney, host of PPW's "Writers' Night" monthly gatherings. During Open Critique, Deb and Mary Karen, or another experienced critiquer will provide comments, criticism and suggestions on participants' manuscript pages, as well as model positive behaviors, techniques and procedures for critiquing.

It is our hope that participants will not only receive valuable feedback on their writing, but will also learn how to create great critique groups of their own, or learn how to improve existing critique groups.

Each month Open Critique will accommodate up to eight participants with a maximum of eight manuscript pages (double spaced, one side) per person. Bring at least 8 copies. To request a slot to participate, email your request topikespeakopencritique@hotmail.com. Slots are assigned on a first-come, first-served basis, and are only considered for the month in which they are received. Participants will receive confirmation and instructions via email.

PPW reserves the right to give priority to new participants over those who have attended multiple times.
Thank you!

Hope to see you there!
Sincerely,

Mary Karen Meredith

Musings on Notebooks, Ideas and Pastel Nuns

By Deb Courtney

I carry a notebook with me everywhere I go. I will stop what I am doing to write in it, and anyone who has known me longer than 5 minutes is not surprised to find themselves quoted in it. Because, you know, I am The Conversational Shoplifter, and therefore I shoplift amusing things other people say.

My friends have lately begun calling my notebook The Book. Because The Book is ubiquitous. Where I go, so goes The Book. When I do not have it, frequently someone will ask me: "Where is The Book?"

The Book is not not just for capturing shoplifts, however. Recently, I visited a Buddhist temple and wrote this...in The Book:

They left the temple slowly, the white haired ladies in their pastel skirts and flowing scarfs and pale straw hats, four of them, the youngest with a few streaks of dark left in her long ponytail. The wind buffeted them and for a moment they seemed as nuns -- a Catholicness to the colors, sisters in pink and baby blue and palest yellow and beige and ecru, all flapping and flowing in the wind. So gentle of spirit they barely seemed there, ghosts of a more genteel time, yet I could hear the crunch of their modern practical shoes on the pebbles, making their last walk around the temple after visiting, and so they were really present, gently, gently winding up their karma, storing it for who knows what, and then off to the gift shop they went.

And when, more recently, someone poked a bit of fun at me for clutching The Book like a small child might a security blanket, my first instinct was to explain it in terms of shoplifts, how I remember the amusing bits of wordage people drop, which I wish to shape up for inclusion in my blog. But instead, I flipped to this passage, as quoted above, and then to another, much different, written in a fit of aggravation, and then to another, written while musing through the conclusion to a scene which would not conclude of its own accord. 

And then I realized something.

Writers need to carry notebooks.

To write in.

And yes, laptop computers or iPads or cell phone note files can fulfill this very necessary receiving function for writers. But for me, there is something about the beat up wreck of paper and cover, dented by the clip of a pen, marred by some ink that bled onto the the spine, curled where a bit of coffee hit the paper and not my mouth. Something important and visceral. And flipping back through it and seeing the handwriting and noting the emotional state BY the handwriting, and recalling where I was when I wrote whatever it is I am re-reading, I know that in The Book I capture the essence of things, not simply type words into a file.

In The Book, there is the flavor of life. Imbued in all its messy inconsistencies and moods.

And this is what we do as writers: capture things, ideas, scenes, in all their visceral messiness.

I am connected to the words that flow from my brain, down my arm, through my hand, into the ink and onto the paper, in a way that I am not when I type.

You cannot backspace with paper and pen; what you capture this way is as blunt and unique and as first draft as any first draft will ever be.

I want access to my first draft unadulterated non-backspaced thoughts when I go back for them. And not just the amusing Shoplifts.

So I can remember the pastel nuns of my life.

About the Writer: Writer. Diva. Wearer of incredibly high heels. Project Manager. Mom. Ex-wife. Driver of a convertible. Extravert. Eavesdropper. Herder of teenagers. Namer of things. Shopper. Chef. Dancer. Traveler. Student of the world. Observer of the patently obvious. Martini-swilling heathen. You can find more from Deb on her blog at The Conversational Shoplifter.

Column: Random 10: Ways to Use the Weather in Your Writing by Deb Courtney

Writing comes from inside us, from the secret places, from our joys and our experiences and from our imaginations. It can also be impacted by external events and phenomena. Weather is one of those mundane things which we give little thought to, but which can impact us greatly—from our moods, to directing the events of our lives in small ways. Here’s a look at how that bit of mundane might be put to work for you, as a writer.

Actual Weather, impacting us as writers:

Cold—On a brisk, cold day, place your hand on a windowpane. Take a walk in the chill. Feel the invigoration, or the pain, of two degree air as it hits your lungs. Know that for most of us, the cold is an ephemeral experience, a fleeting part of our time, but it can get in the way of things, much like writers block or a day job can. But it passes.

Gray—Oh, how a dreary day gets some of us down. The barometric pressure drops, the grey mimics twilight, and calls for a fire, a cup of something warm, and a comfy blanket. Or a nap! But what an opportunity for quiet reflection. On your goals, on your stories, on your progress. As a writer, the ability to revel in this quiet time may lead to discovery, or new ideas, or breakthroughs on old ones. So, revel.

Brilliant—When there are no clouds, and the temperature is as close to perfect as it ever gets, take a notebook and get outside. On your patio, on a hike, at a pool. Interact. Through interactions with people and nature, you build experiences upon which your characters can draw, and through which your settings can manifest.

Caliente—Summer’s heat can wring the life out of us, melt composure, wilt our good intentions. But the heat of summer can also remind us of the emotive interactions between our characters, or how they might feel on a tropical beach far away. Grab your notebook—no matter how damp—and capture the sensory experience and delights that only summer’s heat can bring us.

Windy—Whether a hot summer’s breeze or the chill thrust of winter, wind can remind us of the changeable nature of things, and also how to remain flexible in the face of strong forces. Watch the trees bend, or the dust blow, and think through how your story and your characters remain strong but flexible and unbroken in the face of adversity, or how they might splinter under the force of something too strong to resist.

Weather in your story: Setting—though a cliché, ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ does have the benefit of creating a setting of sorts. What is your setting’s weather and how does it relate to your story, plot and characters? Could this story only happen in a dusty and dry desert, or might it as easily take place in the Arctic? Why?

Mood Enhancer—Use of weather in a story can enhance or complement the mood you create in scenes. Also a cliché is rain at a funeral, but what about light snow during a romantic walk? A change in weather during a climactic moment? To avoid cliché it is advisable not to dwell overly on weather conditions as a mood enhancer, but do not ignore them altogether.

Plot Driver—Some stories really can only happen in certain climates with certain weather. A flood in small town Massachusetts might not play, but would easily in a drought- ridden Midwest town where a freak storm drops unexpected amounts of water on soil baked to bricks. That same storm would be a drop in the bucket of water absorbed by a tropical rainforest, and considered run-of-the- mill in Central Florida.

Character—Much as noted above, the weather has an impact on people. It may also have an impact on your characters. How do they respond to the weather of your story? How does it enhance or negate their moods, or the events of your plot?

Juxtaposition—A powerful tool is to play against the expected. A bright sunny gorgeous day may feel offensive at a funeral, or during a strongly emotional scene in your book, while a dreary rainy day might be an opportunity for your characters to be playfully full of joy and laughter.

As writers we are told to use what we know, and we all know the weather and what it does to us. So use it. And, as the old saying goes, if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes—it’s sure to change.

(Originally published in the Pikes Peak Writers NewsMagazine, May/June 2009.)

About the Writer:  Deb Courtney has a degree in fiction from the University of South Florida, has published several short stories, and has written freelance for such publications as The Tampa Tribune and Tampa Bay Business Journal. She is a frequent speaker at Pikes Peak Writers events.

She lives in the foothills in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where she has a winter view of Pikes Peak (which is to say she can see it only when all the leaves are off the trees). She shares her home with a driving-age teen, two cross-eyed slightly brain-damaged felines, and likely has squirrels in her attic. And that's not a euphemism.

Column: Ten Things That Come To Mind on the Occasion of Finishing a Book Proposal by Deb Courtney

(In which a writer shares her actual thoughts as experienced in the first few minutes after the actual completion of an actual book proposal.) 

1.  Vodka.  Need Vodka.

2.  Writing is vile, wretched and hard.  What was I thinking?

3.  Holy crap, I am freaking brilliant. 

4.  Uh, this is terrible.  Awful.  What was I thinking?

5.  38 pages.  This is perfect.  The best book proposal ever written.  Clearly I will land an amazing book deal in the next few moments.

6.  What was I thinking?!?!?!?

7.  It feels excellent to have finished such a long, involved and detailed task. Even if the idea doesn’t sell right away, I am pleased with the accomplishment of having gotten this far.

8.  I am an idiot.  The rejections will be epic and unparalleled, and I will forevermore sit on the double super-secret blacklist that all agents have, which they take out and laugh about over fabulous martinis in Manhattan, while sitting in bars from which I am also clearly banned for life.

9.  I finished, I finished.  Nyah, nyah, na-nyah nyah!

10.  So.  Schizophrenia.  At least I have that going for me.

Actual thoughts.  I kid you not.  Still, it feels good to have finished the whole non-fiction book proposal.  Now I wait.  And hope the schizophrenia does not get the best of me in the meantime….

About the Writer:  Deb Courtney has a degree in fiction from the University of South Florida, has published several short stories, and has written freelance for such publications as The Tampa Tribune and Tampa Bay Business Journal. She is a frequent speaker at Pikes Peak Writers events.

She lives in the foothills in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where she has a winter view of Pikes Peak (which is to say she can see it only when all the leaves are off the trees). She shares her home with a driving-age teen, two cross-eyed slightly brain-damaged felines, and likely has squirrels in her attic. And that's not a euphemism.

Column: Singeing Your Eye Whiskers by Deb Courtney

While playing poker at my house the other night, a friend said, "Uh, I think your cat may have burned itself…" We all turned to look where she indicated. In fact, the cat was standing very close to a grouping of candles, and as we all watched, she leaned over to examine a flame. Quickly she jumped back shaking her face. I went and picked her up and sure enough, she had damaged the whiskers over her right eye. Which means she will walk a little funny and bump into things for a few days.

My cat is a gorgeous long-haired mix of American Ragdoll and Bob-tail. She is like a tiny, delicate, befurred Siamese, with a loud chirrup of a voice and a tail that is always curled around her (due to the bobtail mutation). She is adorable. She is not, however, smart, and this whisker singeing was not her first. In some weird way she is determined to ‘get’ something about flames and keeps revisiting them even though they clearly cause her some damage and a little pain. I have to keep the wood burning fireplace insert doors closed as she gets super close and I’m afraid she’ll actually walk in.

Yes, that not smart.

But her persistence got me to thinking. Both in life and in writing fiction, I think we tend to stick with the familiar, the comfortable. We don’t like stepping outside our habits, climbing out of our ruts. In my current work in progress, I found myself placing limits on where I would take my character – oh, I can’t write THAT, I would tell myself. That is too vulgar, or too over the top, or would offend some people. And for a while I wrote my character very carefully so as to stay within some boundary that makes me feel safe. After all, offending people, writing things about a character that people might confuse with me, writing something too vulgar (and yes, there is a TOO vulgar for me, I do have some limits) – well, it SCARES me.

Yes, scares me.

What if something is so vulgar it puts off potential readers? What if someone surmises I am my character and therefore decides not to like ME any more? What if, what if, what if. Yet I kept coming up with scenes that seemed so right, then censoring myself. Not writing them. Just like my cat, back to the flame again and again.

But here’s what I have finally decided: We can’t be afraid to singe our eye whiskers. We just can’t. There’s a life lesson in here, certainly, but from a writing perspective, if we never go to the places where we singe our whiskers, if we only write what is safe and comfortable and what we think will not offend, well, we aren’t writing our true selves. And I think (and someone correct me if I am wrong) that writing that is unloosed, and not self-censored, and which goes exactly where it needs to go, is almost always going to be better and get more positive responses from readers than that which is restrained and safe.

By this I don’t mean that you need to work hard to offend, or use curse words, or gratuitously use sex. I mean, write the book that is there to be written, there inside your brain, and don’t let fear keep you from writing exactly that book. Even if it’s scary to step out of your comfort zones. Even if you think you might be judged. Even if you think you might singe your eye whiskers.

The worst that will happen is that you might walk a bit wobbly for a while, bump into things for a bit.

And I am pretty sure that’s okay.

Singe your eye whiskers, writer-people. Do it.

BIO:
Deb Courtney has a degree in fiction from the University of South Florida, has published several short stories, and has written freelance for such publications as The Tampa Tribune and Tampa Bay Business Journal. She is a frequent speaker at Pikes Peak Writers events.

She lives in the foothills in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where she has a winter view of Pikes Peak (which is to say she can see it only when all the leaves are off the trees). She shares her home with a driving-age teen, two cross-eyed slightly brain-damaged felines, and likely has squirrels in her attic. And that's not a euphemism.

PPW Conference Countdown: Managing Creative Projects by Deb Courtney

We all know prolific writers who crank out 5k words in a sitting, or who effortlessly hit 50K words during NaNoWriMo, or, worse still, draft a manuscript a year.  We know them, and they all know who they are.  This article is not for them.  It’s for the rest of us who can’t for the life of us figure out how they manage said feats. 

Those prolific writers don’t have access to some magic formula which eludes the rest of us, nor are they simply better people.  What they do have is an inborn or learned skill that allows them to manage projects in a more efficient manner than the rest of us, and the ability to meet their goals through self-discipline.  While I can’t help you with the latter (sorry, that’s up to you), I can assist with the former, by teaching you principles from a business discipline called Project Management.

It is much as it sounds – a process by which projects get managed, from idea to completion, and it can be applied across all sorts of different types of projects, from making cupcakes, to launching major software development initiatives for multinational corporations.

And also to creative endeavors.

Out of more than 20 years experience managing a variety of project types, I can say there are three deceptively simple areas in any project which, if not handled correctly, can set projects up to not meet their goals.  For Creative Projects, I like to think in terms of not meeting goals rather than in terms of failure, because failure sounds so definite and final.  I call these areas ‘deceptively simple’ because they sound simple, but are actually multi-faceted and pretty complex. 

For creative projects, unlike for major software launches, the creative person always has the option to re-tool and adjust their approach (unless you are under an external deadline which is another issue altogether).

The first of the three areas are related to Timeline.

Problem:  Setting  Long or Unrealistic Timelines

Projects have completion dates.  This is what sets them apart from our normal daily routine.  Projects have a finite duration, and an end goal.  We cause problems for ourselves in several ways in this area, by:

a)      Setting no completion goal whatsoever.  If you start a novel and plan to finish it when you get around to it, don’t be surprised when you are staring at page 60 of your manuscript 5 years later. 

Solution:  Set a completion goal date.

b)      Setting arbitrary completion dates for a creative project without any understanding of the  actual level of effort. How much do you plan to write – 80,000 words?  100,000 words? How long are typical, marketable manuscripts in your genre?

Solution:  have a goal for length.  You can change it later if you need to, but know in general terms how long projects like yours usually are.

c)      Not understanding how long it will take in actual effort to accomplish a goal.  For instance, writing at a rate of 1000 words an hour you need 80 hours to write 80,000 words.  But you can’t count on having 80 continuous hours – otherwise we’d all have already mastered the art of writing a novel in two weeks.

Also you can’t assume that your productivity remains at 1000 words an hour by the second or third continuous hour of writing  

Solution:  Figure out how much you can write in a given chunk of time.  This allows you to relate the word count goal to a specific level of effort on your part in real time.

d)     Poorly estimating the amount of time you actually have to dedicate to your project.  This will almost always be different than the time you imagine you will have or the time you would like to have. In high tech, project managers expect about 5 hours a day of actual programming from developers even though they are at work for 8.  It RARELY happens that you can spend all the time you have available on the major task you want to complete; other things almost always interrupt. 

Solution: Set a minimum realistic goal for each writing session based on how much of your available time you will likely ACTUALLY spend writing.  ASSUME INTERRUPTIONS WILL HAPPEN

e)      Having no end goal (beyond Write Novel.)  By this I mean that many people start out with a vague idea for a book and when asked to articulate it can’t get much beyond “I want to write a novel about a person in these circumstances that ends up this way”. 

While I am not a fan of outlining your novel in massive detail personally, this falls under the category of Poor or No Requirements; (which will be addressed in Part 2 of this series).  It’s hard to finish something by a specific date if you aren’t really certain what in fact you want to have at the end of the allotted timeframe. 

Solution:  Set an end goal with some specifics, like an 88,000 word YA urban fantasy novel in which your incredibly awesome teen zombie has overcome a variety of obstacles and changed the world’s view of zombies, and is on the cusp of winning voting rights for all zombies in the United States.

If you have specific questions, feel free to email them to me at deb.courtney@comcast.net, or catch me at Pikes Peak Writers Conference, where I will be leading a session on Project Management for Writers.

BIO:
Deb Courtney has a degree in fiction from the University of South Florida, has published several short stories, and has written freelance for such publications as The Tampa Tribune and Tampa Bay Business Journal. She is a frequent speaker at Pikes Peak Writers events.

She lives in the foothills in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where she has a winter view of Pikes Peak (which is to say she can see it only when all the leaves are off the trees). She shares her home with a driving-age teen, two cross-eyed slightly brain-damaged felines, and likely has squirrels in her attic. And that's not a euphemism.

Column: Guest Dog Goes Walkabout (and Other Stuff)

Guest Dog Goes Walkabout (and Other Stuff)

by Deb Courtney

Saturday is usually my day to do stuff around the house, and I am deeply involved in Getting Things In Order today as I have a bunch of cool chicks coming over to play Texas Hold 'em. I of course plan to kick butt, but I do need to get a bunch of stuff done before the butt kicking can begin.

Which means I do not need a dog gone walkabout at the moment. But life often delivers us that which we least need, when we least need it. My life does anyway.

So there I was staining baseboards (yes, that's probably excessive just for a poker party but I have an excessive personality. Don't judge me). And I get the call from Guest Dog's real owner (Guest Dog is not mine, I am fostering him, hence calling him Guest Dog). I have to hike a mile to retrieve him. He thinks this is great fun -- not only did he make two new dog friends and a bunch of new human pals who think he is an awesome and rockin' dog, but he gets a most excellent walk from his second-favorite human (his first of course being his owner). Guest dog = happy. I = not amused.

Sigh.

But the forced walk in the middle of what I NEED to get done got me thinking about characters and whether or not we inflict the very real and mundane stuff of life on them as much as we should. Pipes break before big parties (at my house they do), dogs go walkabout while you are on a tight schedule, half & half goes bad seconds before you need to offer it to a guest, and the grocery stores run out of the exact item you need for the dinner you have planned forcing either a change of plans or a detour to another store (several if you are me). And sometimes you can't find a bathroom when you really, really need one. Again, don't judge me.

While I am finishing the draft of my work in progress, I think I will introduce a bit more of the mundane and irritating into my main character's life. Sometimes it's not the big plot points in life that show who a person is, but the way they deal with the mundane and routine.

I will not give my character, Else, a Guest Dog, however. She is much smarter than me and would know better than to take one in in the first place.

I'm off to finish the baseboards. Then back to writing.


BIO:
Deb Courtney has a degree in fiction from the University of South Florida, has published several short stories, and has written freelance for such publications as The Tampa Tribune and Tampa Bay Business Journal. She is a frequent speaker at Pikes Peak Writers events.

She lives in the foothills in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where she has a winter view of Pikes Peak (which is to say she can see it only when all the leaves are off the trees). She shares her home with a driving-age teen, two cross-eyed slightly brain-damaged felines, and likely has squirrels in her attic. And that's not a euphemism.

Random 10: Ways to Use the Weather in Your Writing by Deb Courtney

Writing comes from inside us, from the secret places, from our joys and our experiences and from our imaginations. It can also be impacted by external events and phenomena. Weather is one of those mundane things which we give little thought to, but which can impact us greatly—from our moods, to directing the events of our lives in small ways. Here’s a look at how that bit of mundane might be put to work for you, as a writer.

Actual Weather, impacting us as writers:

Cold—on a brisk, cold day, place your hand on a windowpane. Take a walk in the chill. Feel the invigoration, or the pain, of two degree air as it hits your lungs. Know that for most of us, the cold is an ephemeral experience, a fleeting part of our time, but it can get in the way of things, much like writers block or a day job can. But it passes.

Gray—oh how a dreary day gets some of us down. The barometric pressure drops, the grey mimics twilight, and calls for a fire, a cup of something warm, and a comfy blanket. Or a nap! But what an opportunity for quiet reflection. On your goals, on your stories, on your progress. As a writer, the ability to revel in this quiet time may lead to discovery, or new ideas, or breakthroughs on old ones. So, revel.

Brilliant—When there are no clouds, and the temperature is as close to perfect as it ever gets, take a notebook and get outside. On your patio, on a hike, at a pool. Interact. Through interactions with people and nature, you build experiences upon which your characters can draw, and through which your settings can manifest.

Caliente—summer’s heat can wring the life out of us, melt composure, wilt our good intentions. But the heat of summer can also remind us of the emotive interactions between our characters, or how they might feel on a tropical beach far away. Grab your notebook—no matter how damp—and capture the sensory experience and delights that only summer’s heat can bring us.

Windy—whether a hot summer’s breeze or the chill thrust of winter, wind can remind us of the changeable nature of things, and also how to remain flexible in the face of strong forces. Watch the trees bend, or the dust blow, and think through how your story and your characters remain strong but flexible and unbroken in the face of adversity, or how they might splinter under the force of something too strong to resist.

Weather in your story:

Setting—though a cliché, ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ does have the benefit of creating a setting of sorts. What is your setting’s weather and how does it relate to your story, plot and characters? Could this story only happen in a dusty and dry desert, or might it as easily take place in the Arctic? Why?

Mood Enhancer—use of weather in a story can enhance or complement the mood you create in scenes. Also a cliché is rain at a funeral, but what about light snow during a romantic walk? A change in weather during a climactic moment? To avoid cliché it is advisable not to dwell overly on weather conditions as a mood enhancer, but do not ignore them altogether.

Plot Driver—Some stories really can only happen in certain climates with certain weather. A flood in small town Massachusetts might not play, but would easily in a drought-ridden Midwest town where a freak storm drops unexpected amounts of water on soil baked to bricks. That same storm would be a drop in the bucket of water absorbed by a tropical rainforest, and considered run-of-the-mill in Central Florida.

Character—much as noted above, the weather has an impact on people. It may also have an impact on your characters. How do they respond to the weather of your story? How does it enhance or negate their moods, or the events of your plot?

Juxtaposition—a powerful tool is to play against the expected. A bright sunny gorgeous day may feel offensive at a funeral, or during a strongly emotional scene in your book, while a dreary rainy day might be an opportunity for your characters to be playfully full of joy and laughter.

As writers we are told to use what we know, and we all know the weather and what it does to us. So use it. And, as the old saying goes, if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes—it’s sure to change.

Originally appeared in The Pikes Peak Writer, Volume VIII, Issue 3, May, June 2009

BIO:
Deb Courtney has a degree in fiction from the University of South Florida, has published several short stories, and has written freelance for such publications as The Tampa Tribune and Tampa Bay Business Journal. She is a frequent speaker at Pikes Peak Writers events.

She lives in the foothills in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where she has a winter view of Pikes Peak (which is to say she can see it only when all the leaves are off the trees). She shares her home with a driving-age teen, two cross-eyed slightly brain-damaged felines, and likely has squirrels in her attic. And that's not a euphemism.

Column: Making Your Reader Cry by Deb Courtney

Like many Pikes Peak Writers members, I am participating in NaNoWriMo. I am not doing a particularly good job at making my word count, but I will admit to being fairly happy with what I am writing. I am also fairly happy with the level of discipline I have gained -- I am spending my lunch hour writing, a thing which I would have insisted a month ago was impossible, and I am writing every singe day.

Happiness with myself notwithstanding, I hit what I think is a common week 2 crisis which went something like 'how in the world did I ever think I had the talent much less the time to try and write anything and how dare I have the hubris to think I might have something to say which might mean something to anyone but self-indulgent self." Or something like that. And I reached out to a few trusted pals for some reassurance. And they reassured me...but I didn't feel all that reassured.

I have a dear friend who is going through a life crisis, and it occurred to me while chatting with her on the phone that my NaNo project is about her exact conflict, about being on the other side of the journey which she is undertaking. And I told her this and asked if I could share the draft of the last few pages (yes, I write out of order). Indulging me, she said yes, and I read maybe 400 words to her over the phone.

While I read, I understood maybe for the first time the intended emotional impact of what I wrote. I mean, I understood it before, but in a clinical way, a 'these words should accomplish this thing" way. In that moment, I really got the visceral impact of the scene, and I realized when I finished that my friend and I were both crying. We cried for our own reasons, overlapping a bit, me for her misfortune, and for having a breakthrough insight into my own work; her for the simple fact of the unchosen life journey she is undertaking, and for realizing there is an end to it, eventually. We cried together, and the instigator of that moment were my words.

When she said she would love to read the finished product, I realized I had just been paid the ultimate compliment for a writer -- the reader-writer contract was fulfilled in that moment and she and I occupied the same emotive space. Through my words.

We write for so many reasons: out of need, out of a desire to be published, for wanting validation, for fulfillment artistically, but at the basis of every book is a simple premise -- that the engagement of the reader with the words the writer has provided will make for an experience of sorts. Without the reader, we may as well toss our words to the wind, without the writer, readers would have no way to fill that space in them that wants the words.

So maybe I am filled with hubris, thinking I have something to say that might mean something to a reader someday. Hell, I still have to convince myself of it, then an agent and then a publisher. But I think I do have something to say, and when I say it, I hope I evoke what I managed to in that small moment, that emotive connection that made my reader cry. And I am reassured.

And now, back to writing.

The final snippet: It's not rocket science. It's beer. (overheard at Southside Johnny's).

BIO:
Deb Courtney has a degree in fiction from the University of South Florida, has published several short stories, and has written freelance for such publications as The Tampa Tribune and Tampa Bay Business Journal. She is a frequent speaker at Pikes Peak Writers events.

She lives in the foothills in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where she has a winter view of Pikes Peak (which is to say she can see it only when all the leaves are off the trees). She shares her home with a driving-age teen, two cross-eyed slightly brain-damaged felines, and likely has squirrels in her attic. And that's not a euphemism.