What She Did Right--Wrong Number and "Relativity"

First, for those of you who are not yet familiar with Wrong Number by Rachelle J. Christensen, here's the story blurb from the back cover:

When Aubree Stewart receives a mysterious phone call on her way to work, she doesn't know what to think. At first, she assumes it's some kind of prank. But the call isn't a practical joke, and Aubree soon finds herself swept up in a world of danger, intrigue, and murder. With help from the FBI, Aubree races to protect herself and what's left of her family, but the one thing she forgets to protect is her own heart.

As you can see, Wrong Number is a suspense novel with a bit of romance. What you probably don't know, however, is it's also a story based on a premise I wish I had thought of. Why? One, because I loved the idea! But also, because one of the ways writers draw their readers into their worlds and connect them with their characters is by creating situations their audiences can relate to. I know I'm no Einstein, but for today, let's call it the law of "Relativity."

Consider how JK Rowling connected us with Harry Potter. From a distance, we initially see him as a young boy with unknown wizarding power, but as we get to know him, we discover he feels abused, neglected and powerless. How many of us aren't able to relate to those feelings? I'd wager very few.

And then there's Stephenie Meyer's Edward Cullen. From a distance, Edward is a terrifying monster, but tens of thousands of girls have not only related to him but also "fallen in love with him." Why? Not because he drinks blood, but because he's good, strong, and humanly vulnerable. In fact, I'd almost guarantee each of us can relate to him because we have not only based some of our choices on our love for someone else, but we have also wondered about our own ability of "making it" into heaven.

That's why I believe Christensen's use of the law of relativity in Wrong Number is just as effective as those utilized by Rowling and Meyers. I mean, who hasn't answered a "wrong number" phone call? What's more, how many of us haven't been just a bit creaped out by something an unknown caller said? Or didn't say? Or only breathed? I know I have. And I know I enjoyed reading Christensen's Wrong Number. I believe you will, too.

What They Did Right--RD Henham (Rebecca Shelley)

Let me start out by saying my fifteen year old, fantasy loving daughter LOVED the Brass Dragon Codex. Read it in two days. Said it was better than other dragon books she'd read recently. To me, that means Rebecca Shelley definitely did something right. And one of the things I believe she did right was she filled her book with action.

In You Can Write Children's Books, Tracey E. Dils advises middle grade books should "rely heavily on visual action . . . One way to ensure you have enough visual action in your plot is to ask yourself if you can think of at least one illustration that can be created for each chapter."

This is advice R. Shelley obviously took to heart. From the get-go. Her first chapter opens with a young dragon discovering his parents have been killed. The next introduces us to two gnomes working with lightning and acid as they try to invent a moving giant. Third, the gnome is burned. The action goes on and on. And so, too, does the reader's interest. I'd definitely recommend this book to young, fantasy loving readers.

How Not to Begin

As I said in an earlier post, I took second place in a first chapter contest. Since that time, I've thought more about the supreme importance of beginnings. After all, if our books and stories do not begin well--do not catch the reader's attention--the reader will not only put them down and find something else that interests them, but he'll also never read our really great discovery scenes, or worse, he'll totally miss that perfect climax we worked so diligently on.

A really great book, titled "Hooked," came out this last year, and I recommend it to anyone interested in improving their openings. However, as an introduction to the gold found in its pages, I will list a few of the author's "how not to begins." One reason I've chosen to list these is because, I'm embarrassed to say, I've used some of them. Another is because I've read these beginnings in the manuscripts of many budding authors and thought, "If only they knew." So, let this blog serve as a "heads up" on how not to begin.

1. Prologues. In most instances, this device only serves to distance the reader and detract from the immediacy we are trying to create. Furthermore, more often than not, it simply gives backstory which isn't necessary to the story or can be worked in elsewhere.

2. Dreams. Why? Because even if the dream is sensual, dangerous, or in any other way catches the reader's attention, it is, at its core, a lie, and as soon as we reveal it as such, our readers will distrust our ability to tell a good story. Now and in the future.

3. Absense of dialogue on the first few pages. The reason this is bad, according to "Hooked" author, Les Edgerton, is because it signals that our books are mostly narrative. Boring, boring narrative. Not a good thing.

4. Opening with dialogue (this includes inner dialogue). True, this method was popular back in the old days, but no more. Now, the reader doesn't want to guess who's speaking and why, because it creates a pause, a stall, or even a break in the reader's understanding of the story, and all breaks provide reasons for the reader to put our books down. Rather, the reader wants to feel she understands, line upon line, what is going on and feel as if she's experiencing the story with us.

As I said, these are only a few "don't do's," but I hope there are enough to satisfy your curiosity. If not, consider this a hook.