Breaking Bad has invaluable lessons for storytellers, regardless of whether you’re writing fiction, graphic novels, or screenplays. Let’s break down the first episode to understand what makes this masterpiece work.

1. Start with Action

It’s a great idea to start fast in the middle of the action. Breaking Bad opens with wild driving of an RV, drugged-out thugs in the back, and a protagonist wearing a chemical mask while his partner lies unconscious. This scene actually occurs about 85% through the episode chronologically but is shown first for two reasons: it creates mystery about what’s happening, and it starts with an exciting scene that buys time to set up the story.

2. Establish Your Protagonist’s Uniqueness

Early in the episode, we see Walter White teaching chemistry, and it’s immediately clear he’s not your average high school teacher. This is crucial because if he were just average, the entire show wouldn’t work. Smart protagonists (and antagonists) make interesting story twists possible—dumb characters usually make for uninteresting stories. When possible, make your character smarter than average.

3. Build Sympathy Early

One of your primary goals as a writer should be getting readers to feel sympathy for your main character. We see Walter White in a humiliating scene washing his student’s car, and we learn he’s very sick with lung cancer. Once we feel sympathy for Walter, we’re on his side and ready to go on his journey.

4. The Power of Contrast

To make the ending emotionally satisfying, you need to establish the opposite at the beginning. Breaking Bad does this by depicting Walter at his weakest: awkward with guns, wearing geeky sweaters and glasses, essentially an egghead opposite to the swaggering, masculine Hank. He’s even shown struggling with intimacy. This early weakness makes his later transformation more impactful.

5. Plant Seeds for Future Payoffs

When Hank shows off video of his drug bust, Walter asks, “How much money is that?” This brilliant foreshadowing connects to his future empire and massive cash stockpile. It also establishes character motivation—while Walter claims he wants to provide for his family, what he really wants is power, with money as its symbol.

6. Creative Dialogue Solutions

Sometimes, less is more. We don’t hear the doctor tell Walter about his lung cancer diagnosis—we just see the mouth moving and infer what was said. Instead of focusing on the obvious, Walter fixates on a tiny mustard stain, showing his inability to process the devastating news.

7. Raise the Stakes Continuously

A cancer diagnosis alone isn’t enough—the story piles on complications: mounting bills, a pregnant wife, and a son with cerebral palsy. Experienced writers know you can always make things worse to raise the stakes and increase the challenge for your character.

8. Use Lies to Create Tension

When Skyler asks Walter about his day after his diagnosis, he simply says “fine.” Lying creates tension in two ways: we anticipate the eventual exposure of the lie, and it rings psychologically true—it’s often difficult to reveal devastating news.

9. Show Character Change Through Action

Walter’s transformation begins with small rebellions: blowing up at his car wash boss, standing up to bullies threatening his son. These changes surprise those around him, particularly Skyler, showing his evolution from meek teacher to something more dangerous.

10. Include Symbolic Moments

The show pauses for a quiet moment of Walter lighting matches and throwing them into a pool—a perfect symbol of life’s fleeting nature and his shortened future. Such symbolic moments also provide a necessary break from the episode’s rapid pacing.

11. Drive the Story Through Decisions

Walter doesn’t just dream about cooking meth—he takes concrete steps: going on a ride-along with Hank, showing interest in the meth lab details. This represents his turn from mild-mannered teacher toward future drug kingpin.

12. Combine Story Elements Efficiently

The SWAT raid scene accomplishes two goals at once: showing dramatic action and introducing Jesse Pinkman. Single scenes doing multiple jobs make for efficient storytelling.

13. Balance Serious with Humor

Even in serious drama, include moments of humor. Walter standing in his underwear in the desert provides comic relief and contrasts with the heavy themes of cancer and death, giving viewers a needed breather.

14. Create Memorable Villain Introductions

When introducing the villain Crazy Eight, instead of the cliché of kicking a puppy, we see him training a dog to attack humans—a fresh take on establishing a character’s brutality.

15. Use Contrast for Impact

The episode brings Walter to both his highest point (outsmarting the drug dealers with chemistry) and his lowest (attempting suicide in the desert in his underwear). This contrast makes both moments more powerful—the highs aren’t as high if the lows aren’t sufficiently low.

16. Show the Cost

Never let your characters emerge unscathed. The episode ends with Walter puking and Jesse sporting a black eye, showing the physical toll of their actions. These visible costs make their accomplishments feel earned.

The episode concludes with Skyler’s famous line “Is that you?”—indicating not just Walter’s renewed virility but his transformation into someone his wife doesn’t recognize. This masterful pilot episode serves as a microcosm for Walter’s larger transformation throughout the series, demonstrating how to craft compelling character change within a single episode while setting up a larger narrative arc.

The post One Episode of Breaking Bad Will Change Your Writing Forever appeared first on Bookfox.

I’ve been working as an editor with Jim Roberts for many years now, and it’s so wonderful for him to get the validation and honor of having his debut short story collection published by Belle Point Press. (It’s also a finalist for “Book of the Year” by Foreword Reviews!).

He’s truly a wonderful writer, full of wisdom and stories that surprise you, and I knew from reading his very first story that he was going to be successful.

His book “Of Fathers & Gods” comes out today, and you should definitely pick up a copy.

Here’s what I said about the book for a blurb:

“These are stories haunted by father figures, both present and passed, and by the many ways they’ve failed their children. Through stories about kidnapping, prosthesis creation, family secrets and mass shootings, Roberts never loses sight of the thumping, bleeding hearts of his characters, yearning for better lives. If you’re looking for the firm, no-nonsense truths of Flannery O’Connor and the raw, hardscrabble edge of Denis Johnson, this is your book. You would be wise to pick up a copy.”

Jim and I spoke over email for this interview:

I absolutely love the title for this collection. Can you tell us how you came up with it?

Since my book deals with fathers and how they relate (or don’t) to their children, the “Fathers” part of the title was self-evident.

As for the “Gods” part, that was inspired by the Biblical story of Abraham and Isaac, a story that deeply disturbed me the first time I heard it as young child. The story is always told from the POV of Abraham, but I can never stop thinking about it from poor Isaac’s POV, marched up a mountain by those he trusted as protectors and then finding himself under a knife wielded by not one but two fathers, his earthly father and God.

Also, a reference to Abraham and Issac plays a key role in the finale story of the collection titled “Late Fiction.”

Speaking of knives, they seem to pop up in my writing from time to time (see how many you can spot across the nine stories in the collection).

Look at the cover of Of Fathers & Gods for example. I had no hand in that design. Never said anything to anybody involved in the cover creation about knives. Knives just seem to materialize here and there as I write. Coincidence or deep subconscious? Or is there a difference?

What was the process like for writing these stories? 

About thirty-five years ago—yes, you heard that right, I’m old—against all reason and common sense, I started writing a novel. I’m still working on that same mofo. I use the phrase “working on” loosely.

Back then, I was absorbed into a career in the marketing research industry, working insane weekly hours and flying all over the U.S. and Europe, and I had two young sons at home. So, I’d often go months and sometimes years in between writing sessions. The first draft progressed at a sloth’s pace.

But here’s the good news. I never stopped thinking about it even if I wasn’t actively typing words into a PC. Thinking about the story arc. Strategizing. Envisioning scenes. And all that thinking about the novel threw off some valuable byproducts: lots and lots of ideas for short stories. Characters and situations I liked but didn’t belong in the novel.

As for physical process, I work best early in the morning. I roll out of bed and grab a drink and don’t let anything get between me and my keyboard and write until I burn out, usually about three hours.

Eat lunch, exercise, run errands in town, distract myself until about six p.m. Then read what I wrote that morning (I always edit on paper) and mark it up. Sometimes type revisions before bed, but otherwise make revisions the next morning. Rinse and repeat.

Oh, and I only work on one story at a time, although I might jot down a sidenote if something worthy pops into my head related to different story I have on my to-be-written list.

What stories didn’t fit into the collection, and why?

Okay, it’s true confession time. I did what writers are told not to do. I had nine stories and put every damn one of them in the collection.

My entire inventory at the time. Now, in my defense, they were all written with the same theme hovering over my head: the relationships between fathers and their children—the good, the bad, and the awful.

My age drives a lot of writing decisions. I had what I thought were nine good stories in hand. Might I have written some even better ones on this same theme in the future, and displaced one or two of the original nine? Sure, but when you’re within spitting distance of age seventy, you must take that word “future” very, very seriously.

As any writer in the trenches of seeking publication knows, the lead times in publishing are loooooong. Years to write, re-write, edit, re-write again, research publishers, submit, submit, submit, rejection, rejection, rejection. And if finally accepted, up to two more years before the publisher births the book out into the world. If you’re thirty, no biggie perhaps. If you’re seventy, you might miss the birth of that baby.

What was the process like in finding a publisher?

Long, time-sucking, tedious, frustrating grunt work. And that’s just the good parts.

I had several things working against me that had to be factored into a “how to get published” strategy. Forget the Big 5, or Big 4, or Big Whatever-they’re-called today. You need an agent for them, and paradoxically it’s more difficult to get an agent than a publisher. And no sane agent would want what I was offering: (agent thoughts are italicized):

• A literary (low demand)
• short story collection (seriously, nobody buys short stories)
• from a completely unknown, unproven author (how many TikTok peeps you got?),
• who is old (wait, is this guy gonna live long enough to create an ongoing revenue stream?).

So, I went after small, independent presses who don’t require an agent as intermediary. Untold hours surfing the web and reading “market book” listings of such presses, flagging the ones who accept short story collections but don’t have specific identity requirements such as “author must be a left-handed dentist born in the state of Iowa.”

I eventually built a spreadsheet with fifty potential small presses, then started submitting (a long, slow process customizing cover letters to each one and rejiggering the manuscript to meet various, unstandardized submission requirements).

As expected, the rejections started rolling in, but I kept submitting and eventually connected with a press whose mission fits perfectly with my fiction.

What advice do you have for authors seeking to publish their first collection of short stories?

Learn as much about the craft of writing fiction as you can. Got an MFA? Great. If not—and I don’t—then read some carefully selected craft books (I especially recommend ones that illustrate key lessons with real world examples) and attend some writing conferences that include craft lectures and workshops.

Try to get into a good writers’ group of no more than 4-5 writers. This is hard to do, because some writers’ groups and workshops can do more harm than good. If you don’t get good vibes after the “settling in” period, abandon ship and try another group. I was in 2 or 3 before I finally hit a great one.

The hallmarks of a great one are what I call “civil honesty” and camaraderie. You need people who will tactfully tell you your baby is ugly, or you’ve got spinach in your teeth. False praise or jealous nitpicking do no one any good. Try to develop a Jedi sense for determining which advice to take and which to ignore. It’s difficult to know and you’ll never get it 100% correct.

After arming yourself with great skills, write some killer stories and hire a good developmental editor, ideally someone with a lot of short story experience, to assess and critique your stores. Rework and then submit, submit, submit to lit mags and ignore all the rejections.

After a few are published, research “how to organize a short story collection,” (again, a developmental editor can be helpful with this part.) Now, at long last, you are ready to begin submitting your collection (or seeking an agent, if you decide to go that route). I sound like a broken record, but you must be psychologically prepared for a long, long, winding road and settle in for that odyssey.

If you could tell your younger writing self anything, what advice would you give?

Liquidate all savings and assets and buy Bitcoin the first day it becomes available.

Oh, you said writing self. Easy—read more and procrastinate less. Time is precious. Maybe you don’t hear the clock ticking when you’re thirty. But it ticks nonetheless.

When do you know a story is finished?

They’re never finished. Every time I revisit one that’s been published, I want to tweak or polish or change something somewhere. They’re like children, you can’t hold on to them forever.

There reaches a point where they must be released into the world. My wife and daughter-in-law are painters, and they tell me they feel the same about their paintings.

We worked on these stories together for several years — can you describe the experience from your end?

Excruciating hell. No, just kidding!

If I had to put it into one word, then the experience was educational. Highly educational. This is going to sound like hyperbole, but I’m serious when I say I learned more from your critique summaries and marginal notes on my stories than I learned from hours of reading craft books or attending craft lectures at writers’ conferences.

Why? Because I learned specific skills at the exact moment I could apply them to a work-in-progress. When that happens, it sinks in deeply.

What are your favorite literary journals?

Honestly, I’m not a consistent reader of literary journals. I read from them, but it’s infrequent and helter-skelter.

Because of time and money constraints, I prefer to read short stories from classic collections (such as Raymond Carver, Alice Munro, Flannery O’Connor, etc.) or from annual, curated collections such as Best American Short Stories, The Pushcart Prize Winners, Best of the Net, Wigleaf 50, etc.

Can you recommend three short story collections that authors need to read? 

Only three?

• Cathedral (Raymond Carver)
• Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage (Alice Munro)
• and The Things They Carried (Tim O’Brien).

If you had said “name five,” I’d add Knockemstiff by Donald Ray Pollock and Jesus’s Son by Denis Johnson.

I love every one of those collections! Great choices. What’s a craft book that every writer should read?

Although I’ve never read much of his fiction, Stephen King’s On Writing is fascinating and eye-opening regarding the “writing life” and many other issues.

And this may sound like pandering—but I swear on all that is holy it is not; it is my true opinion—The Linchpin Writer by John Matthew Fox.

Aw shucks, thank you.

Based on the subtitle, one might think it applies more to novels than short stories, but I found the advice, and especially the examples in Linchpin to be highly applicable to the craft of writing any type of fiction.

What are the main themes that keep coming up in your book?

The relationships between fathers and their children: the good, the bad and the awful. Parental actions have lifetime consequences.

It’s no secret fathers can be notorious missing pieces—whether missing physically or emotionally—and it is often the missing piece that weighs heaviest around the neck, a lost part of the puzzle that spells “love.” Drop the “e” from love and you can still sort of spell it. But it’s not the same.

What story was the most difficult to write, and why?

I’ll cite two stories that were difficult for me, for different reasons. The first is “The Jackshit Bastards,” the first “real” short story I ever wrote (and the only story I’ve ever written that was never rejected, having been accepted by the first literary journal where it was submitted).

It was also the first time I had worked with a developmental editor (John Matthew Fox). Although I had conceptualized a good story, I made a lot of executional mistakes, and a lot of rewriting was required. I rewrote some sections of it over a dozen times, and at times almost abandoned it because I didn’t think I’d ever get it right. I’m very proud of that one, because I persevered and pulled it off eventually, and because it is my wife’s favorite story from the collection.

The other difficult story was “Tender, Like My Heart,” because the father in that story shares many similarities with my own father (the only father in the entire collection to do so). In the story, Digger Shay—the father of the protagonist Tedi—dies from lung cancer, just like my dad. Tedi’s grief and anguish are drawn from my own personal experience, so yeah, that was hard to write. I will never read some of the scenes from that story at a public reading, because I can’t get through them without tears.

What’s your writing journey been like? 

Schitzephrenic, circuitous, and disjointed. I read Ralph Ellison’s novel Invisible Man when I was eighteen or nineteen. Invisible Man didn’t just tell a story; it challenged conventions, shattered stereotypes, and dared to confront uncomfortable truths. By the time I reached that last page, I said, “I want to do this. I want to learn how to write fiction like this.”

In high school and even junior high the thought, the fantasy, of being a writer passed casually through my mind from time to time. But so did a lot of other half-baked ideas and daydreams about the future.

None of them really stuck until I read that book. When I finished the last paragraph, I was both exhilarated and terrified because I was convinced I could do it. I could write a good book of fiction. Nothing as great as what Ellison had accomplished. But something respectable. If Ellison was The Beatles, maybe I could do something akin to Badfinger. 

So, Invisible Man fell into my lap and turned me into an English Major. I was a star student of literature and writing. But it only lasted about three semesters before FSD set in. (Fear of Starving to Death). My wife and I came from humble backgrounds and had to beg, borrow, and steal our way through college. The prospect of walking away with a questionably valuable English degree into a future that was no different from my past, a future of scratching and pecking for dollars, scared me. “The FSD is strong in this one,” said Darth Vader.

Okay, if we’re going to continue the Star Wars analogy, I crossed over to the dark side and suppressed my desire to write for decades until I awoke recently to discover I’d grown old. When did that happen? I thought there would be plenty of time. Wrong.

I gave up an early passion for writing and instead spent my life successfully defeating FSD. And I’m glad I did because none of us, late in life, are the same as our nineteen-year-old selves. I certainly had the passion at age nineteen to be a good writer, but I didn’t have fifty plus years of my own experiences, and the experiences of others close around, to draw upon to craft interesting and compelling stories.

Which one of these stories — you can only pick one — would be the best one to be turned into a film, and who would play the main characters?

“The Jackshit Bastards” because I think it contains sufficient characterization, conflict, and other content to fill up two hours of screen time. Interestingly, this story was a finalist—along with “Tender, Like My Heart”—for the Screencraft Cinematic Short Story Award. So, there’s some evidence that others see at least a modicum of “film” potential in it. Actors?

The twins would be Jason Bateman and Laura Linney.

Oh, those are fantastic choices. I can totally see them in those roles.

Laura Linney’s character’s love interest would be Margot Robbie. And the father would have to be either Brian Cox (from Succession) or Pierce Brosnan.

Have you ever taken a literary pilgrimage?

Yes, but not intentionally. Our family was on vacation visiting Gettysburg and D.C. and we made a day trip to Baltimore. While there, pretty much on a whim, I decided to walk maybe a mile to pay homage at Edgar Allen Poe’s grave. We were at the Inner Harbor and no one else really wanted to do a long roundtrip walk to go to a cemetery.

I asked a street vendor about directions, showing him my map, and he advised me to maybe take a cab instead of walking through a dicey neighborhood. A rickshaw driver (bicycle rickshaw) overheard our conversation and offered a ride.

While I can’t prove it, I like to tell people I may be the only person, or at least one of the very few, who’s taken a rickshaw to Poe’s grave.

Turns out the rickshaw driver was an aspiring writer. Of course he was.

What are you working on next?

Two novels. One novel is finished and awaiting one last look by the developmental editor (that would be you, Mr. Fox).

For the other novel, I’m a half dozen chapters into the first draft, gathering feedback from my writers’ group now and then when I come up in the rotation. I have lots of notes for yet another piece, but I don’t yet know if it’s a novel, novella, or short story.

Finally, I’ve become enamored with flash fiction lately, and have three or four pieces ready to send out to lit mags, so down the road I might try to publish a collection of flash. But as I stated earlier, time is not on my side.

Want to hear God laugh? Tell Him your plans.

Jim Roberts is the author of the short story collection Of Fathers & Gods (Belle Point Press). His fiction has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and twice named to the finalist list for the Screencraft Cinematic Short Story Award. Short stories by Roberts have been published in Prime Number Magazine, Rappahannock Review, Snake Nation Review, Flash Fiction Magazine, and ArLiJo-The Arlington Literary Journal.

His essay “Fiction is Trouble”—a hybrid personal and craft essay about the writing of Of Fathers & Gods—is forthcoming in Reckon Review, May 29, 2024.

Roberts was born in Amarillo, Texas but grew up in rural East Texas. After college, he lived and worked briefly in Houston before moving to Cincinnati, Ohio to pursue a business career. Now a full-time writer, he splits his time between Ohio and Texas, depending on whim, changes in the weather, or the beckoning of distant haints.

Find him on Facebook and Instagram and learn more about his writing and works-in-progress at www.jimrobertsfiction.com.

The post Jim Roberts Wrestles with Difficult Fathers (Interview) appeared first on Bookfox.

Ah, the dreaded comp titles.

You know you need two similar books to your own when you send a query to a literary agent, but how are you supposed to find them?

And how can you figure out which ones to choose?

I’ve helped a lot of authors land agents over the years, and I’m going to tell you all the mistakes that you should avoid (yes, there are a lot of mistakes to avoid).

You THINK you’re communicating one thing when you choose a comp title, but you’re actually saying something completely different.

1. Popular Books Choice

The Popular Books choice is one of the most common mistakes that authors make when choosing comp titles.

They think: How can I go wrong if I choose Harry Potter and Hunger Games? Those books were fantastic!

But these are almost always the wrong choices. Agents would get laughed out of the publishing house if they brought these comp titles to publishers. Publishers are usually looking for more mid-level books, not the crazy bestsellers.

• What you think you’re saying: My book is going to be popular like these bestsellers
• What you’re actually saying: I have wildly unreasonable expectations for how my book will sell

You’re also telling the agent that you’re not a very big reader, if these are the only books you could come up with.

2. Old Books Choice

By “Old” books I mean books that are older than 3 years.

Yes, when doing comp titles, more than 3 years is considered old.

That’s because comp titles are meant to give publishers a sense of how this book might sell. If you’re choosing books from a decade ago, the publishing landscape and book buying market are completely different.

And if you’re choosing classics from twenty or forty or sixty years ago, that’s SUPER unhelpful.

• What you think you’re saying: My book is going to be a classic
• What you’re actually saying: I’m not reading any books that are being published now

3. Slightly Different Genre

Let’s say you have a memoir.

Make sure you pick comp titles that are firmly within the memoir genre, rather than ones that are lightly fictionalized. For instance, “Everything Sad is Untrue” is a fictionalized memoir, so even though the front cover says it’s a true story, it’s not a good comp title for a memoir.

Or if you have a fantasy subgenre, like Anthropomorphic fantasy or Gaslamp Fantasy or Urban Fantasy, then …

You don’t want to pick comp titles that are fantasies, but are in a slightly different subgenre. The comp should definitely be in the narrow subgenre of your book.

• What you think you’re saying: my book is cool
• What you’re actually saying: I don’t understand what genre my book is

4. No Comp Titles

I know, I know, it’s incredibly difficult to come up with comp titles.

But the choice is never never never to avoid the comp title paragraph. It’s better to at least attempt to put some books down as comp titles, because then the agent can tell that you tried.

And my recommendation is to set aside 5 or 6 hours to find the right comp titles. It’s truly a herculean task, to come up with a list of 10 or 15 and then slowly narrow them down until you have *just* the right ones.

It’s completely natural to start sending a query letter out to agents, and then realize your comp titles could be improved, and switch them. I’ve even switched them multiple times, and have several different comp titles for different types of agents.

• What you think you’re saying: my book is original
• What you’re actually saying: I’m not a reader

Don’t be afraid to customize your comp title for a specific agent (for instance, listing someone they represented as a comp title).

5. Focusing on Content

It IS possible to choose books that are actually too similar to your book. But similar in a particular way.

For instance, it’s a bad idea to focus too much on the content of the comp titles rather than the container.

Perhaps you have a husband/wife relationship in your novel, so you look for novels that also have husband/wife relationships.

That would be great, but it’s not the most important thing. The most important thing is nailing the:

• Genre
• Length
• Tone

Your comp titles are cousins, not siblings. They don’t have to have big elements line up, they just need to have enough genetic material in common that the publisher can see that your book might sell in a similar way to the comp title books.

That way they’re not flying blind when they’re offering you an advance, they’re basing it off the sales number and profitability of your comp titles.

Oh, you didn’t know your comp titles could end up factoring into how large your advance is? Well, consider yourself informed.

6. Too Many Comp Titles

The standard is two.

It’s pretty rare to see only a single comp title or to see three comp titles. If you want to play it safe, simply stick to two.

If you go full bore and whip out six books that are comp titles, the agent is going to blink and shake their head and you’re going to be one step closer to a form rejection.

Whittle your selections down until you only have the best two. And don’t worry — if you’re unsure, you’ll probably be able to talk it over with the agent before they send your manuscripts to publishers, and if they think your other picks are better, they’ll use those.

• What you think you’re communicating: I’m well read and my book fits so well in the publishing firmament
• What you’re actually communicating: I’m indecisive and I couldn’t choose which books were best

Final Thoughts

Lastly, don’t put too much pressure on yourself. If the agent likes your book, they’re still going to take you on, even if your comp title suggestions are terrible.

Agents often do their own research and choose their own comp titles to send to publishers, so don’t sweat it. Do your best, and hopefully it will be good enough to pique the agent’s interest.

Don’t forget to leave a comment about whether these tips worked for you!

The post What Your Comp Titles Might be Telling Agents appeared first on Bookfox.

Guest post by E. S. Foster

What do you know other than writing?

While it’s the norm to specialize in one area and perform one specialized set of skills, understanding the mechanics of fields outside our typical scope can be highly beneficial.

You can’t just be a writer. You have to know another field.

Being able to understand and work in more than one area earns you the title of a “polymath,” a term slightly akin to a “jack of all trades.” Like Benjamin Franklin and Leonardo da Vinci, polymaths use their skills in one area to advance themselves in other areas.

But what does the polymath perspective look like to a writer?

Here are some major fields of study that writers could benefit from overall.

1. Mathematics

This might seem a bit counterintuitive. How can a field devoted to a specific set of rules have anything to do with getting creative and writing a story?

But authors like Lewis Carroll was a mathematician first before he was the children’s storyteller. Not only did he include math riddles and math problems, but a good portion of his Alice books were dedicated to counteracting the latest advancements in mathematics.

Specifically, he disliked the shift away from Euclidian geometry, so the nonsense aspects of Wonderland reflected his view of what a world without this mathematicswould look like.

Madeleine L’Engle wrote A Wrinkle in Time with many of the mathematical elements includedas part of her growing interest in math and science. She didn’t necessarily have mathematics in mind when she wrote the book and its subsequent sequels, but this interest helped advance her perspective on the major themes prevalent in her work, and it helped build her world too.

2. Music and Art

A song, a symphony, or any instrument cranking out a tune is more than just notes and sounds put together. A painting, even an abstract one, is more than just colors and shapes.

• Did you know Hans Christian Anderson was a paper cutting artist? He once stated, “Paper cutting is the prelude to writing,” in an 1867 letter.
• Bob Dylan is primarily known for his music, but he also won a Nobel Prize and the Pulitzer Prize for his poetry. His perspectives on poetry and music came together to garner him such an achievement.

Don’t waste any moment thinking that “distracting” yourself from your work by focusing on other creative outlets is going to harm you. Not only do writers need a break sometimes, but they also need to discover their expression in any way they can.

Craft your creative expression by painting a picture or writing a song. As you come back to your writing, you’ll better understand yourself and what matters to you.

3. Science

Science focuses on what we know and what we don’t know about our world. The same thing goes for writing. Sure, we can take creative liberties when we create new worlds, but understanding the features of our own is beneficial.

Some people were scientists before they were writers:

• Carl Sagan was an astronomer and astrophysicist who wrote Contact, his only novel, in 1985. Using his background in various scientific fields, he crafted a hard science fiction story. Even though his work contained extraterrestrials, the science behind the fiction was accurate thanks to his scientific study.
• Andy Weir also writes hard science fiction. While he mainly worked in computer science, he studied orbital mechanics when he wrote The Martian. This work has been lauded for its scientific accuracy.

Our world functions in a specific way and stepping away from that diminishes the accuracy you want to strive for. Readers won’t take your story seriously if you throw inaccurate science into an otherwise believable story.  

When writing in any genre, you want to stick to the facts. If you create a new kind of physics in your world, stick to the rules you created. If you want your work to be accurate, study as much as possible. It takes a lot of brainpower, but a believable story is always vital.

4. Philosophy

Many works have philosophical undercurrents, whether writers realize it or not. A good book does more than simply tell a story. It makes a statement of some kind, and it’s up to readers to analyze the work and figure out what it is.

Philosophy focuses on the why of our reality. We ask ourselves big questions, which we don’t have the answer to. Why are we here? What are we meant to do? Writing asks those same questions. They take on the confusing nature of our world and offer a solution.

Writers may be interested in philosophy or philosophers in their own right.

• Figures such as Voltaire and Goethe wrote their own fiction, which placed philosophy at the forefront of the story.
• On the other hand, genre authors such as Philip K. Dick and Terry Goodkind are better known for the fiction aspect of their stories, though there is still plenty of time spent on the philosophical aspects to their work.

You aren’t likely to ever completely understand the world. That’s fine. As a writer, you can speculate and come up with your own answers. Not everyone will agree with you, but this is your chance to examine the world around you.

5. Religion

Some writers are known for being religious. Others are interested in one particular religion despite not sharing that faith, or they critique religion as an institution in some way.

Examples include:

• Writers such as C. S. Lewis, who was also an apologist and a theologian after converting from atheism.
• G. K. Chesterton was also a writer and apologist, as well as a philosopher whose fiction often focused on religion.
• Ursula K. Le Guin, on the other hand, included Daoism and other Eastern religions in a lot of her works, stating that both Buddhism and Daoism helped shape her perspective on life.

You don’t have to be religious to be a writer. Like any other field, religion might inspire you in different ways in your work. You might want to tackle the issues the world faces or ask the bigger religious questions.

It’s also not uncommon to create your own religion if you’re writing fantasy or science fiction. Often created religions metaphorically examine the issues we witness today or contribute to powerful worldbuilding.

6. Psychology  

Psychology involves looking into the mind and understanding how we think and feel. It’s not uncommon for people to approach a story through a psychological analysis. Some writers are better known for how their work influenced today’s views on nature and society.

For example, H. G. Wells wrote a variety of books dedicated to humanity and science together. While his works speculated on the growing advancements in science and engineering, he also focused on human nature and conflicts between humanity and nature. His book The Island of Doctor Moreau is an amazing example of man vs. nature, society, and himself all at once.

Other writers have used fiction and nonfiction to examine their own psychological state. Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar is essentially a poetic biography about Plath’s own mental illness.

By looking inside ourselves, writers can evaluate their own history and recognize the importance of telling their history. And speaking of history….

7. History

Historical Fiction has always been a well-rounded genre. With all the different time periods available to study, there’s plenty of material to write about or take inspiration from.

Some more recent historical fiction books include:

• Daisy Jones & The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid
• All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr.

In both cases, the author examined a period they were inspired by and crafted beautiful stories out of them.

Examining history has also helped writers when creating their own history for their own world. George R. R. Martin was inspired by the War of the Roses when writing his Song of Ice and Fire series, along with several other historical events.

Your personal history isn’t something to be ignored either. Many works are dedicated to a writer’s past, their experiences, their pain, their joy. Every life is a story. And every story deserves to be told, even if it might seem like no one wants to hear it.

Sometimes, the first place you can find inspiration in is yourself. Writing your life story down may be difficult, but it helps you work through your emotions and reconcile with your past. It may even be that your personal experiences help someone else out in the long run when they read your story.

8. Mythology and Folklore

Like history, mythology offers a wealth of stories to reexamine or recreate. Myths passed down for centuries have been told and retold in multiple ways.

Many cultures have similar types of stories, while others have stories unique to them. Some mythological stories, such as the myth of Icarus or the myth of Pandora’s Box, are well known, but there are plenty of other stories in all countries.

Look at the specific places that interest you. Or look at the myths from your own country. Plenty of writers have taken different myths and retold them:

• Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series
• J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Silmarillion (which used myths as inspiration for creating their own stories)

These stories are often the basis for new and exciting ideas. Besides retelling them in a new way, writers have found ways to touch on modern issues through the myths whose teachings are universal.

9. Politics

The political climate seems forever turbulent, but that shouldn’t stop a writer. Stories don’t have to be overly political, but they can touch on political topics through metaphor or allegory, as well as touch on a specific issue of the current time.

A great example of the first is Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, which tackles topics such as a fictional government’s influence on the human body and mind through a society that is made up of a specific hierarchy. One of the reasons Brave New World is still timely today is because of how it tackled the issues in 1932 that we still face today.

Like the second, many writers have examined the political issues prevalent in society at the time and wrote to combat it. Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 may have been set in a futuristic society, but Bradbury examined the idea of censorship and the shifting tide of entertainment through the novel.

One doesn’t need to look far to find any political headlines. It might seem overwhelming and tiresome to constantly hear about politics, but like any other major field, navigating an issue through a story might help others out in the long run.

10. Culture

Lastly, think about your culture. Where do you come from? What people groups belong to your heritage? What stories have they told in the past?  

Stories from and about other cultures need to be told. A lot of history—how people live and what they believe in—has been pushed to the side for a long time. These are stories that need to be told. Books such as:

• The House on Mango Street by Sandra Sisneros
• Kira Kira by Cynthia Kadohata

These books depict a specific culture and how the characters navigate various triumphs and challenges.

There’s more to it than we think when it comes to culture too. Everyone has been or will be part of a community or area that is unique. Think of books like Marjorie Kinnan Rawling’s The Yearling, set in the communities in the Florida Everglades, for example. 

The best way to study culture and community is to speak with others about their experiences or look back on your own experience in those sectors. Additionally, reading books by an author from that culture will give you firsthand experience of the culture you wish to study.

Conclusion

In the end, writing isn’t just writing. Look for inspiration everywhere you can find it.

This doesn’t mean that you need to become a “polymath” or master multiple fields of study just to write, but feel free to examine any of the opportunities around you to learn more about the writing craft.

Take the time to look at your own experiences as well. While being a jack of all trades means researching more than one area, you shouldn’t ignore how you got to this point. Writers should take inspiration from anywhere they can find it.

The post 10 Non-Writing Topics that Writers Should Study appeared first on Bookfox.

A full solar eclipse will be visible in Mexico, the United States, and Canada on April 8, 2024, and I’m thrilled about it.

The last one was in 2017, and I took my five-year-old twins and drove all the way up to Oregon and camped in a field to watch it. It was one of the most memorable and beautiful and surreal experiences of my life.

Because of that experience, I’ve looked for descriptions of solar eclipses in literature. There are more than you would expect!

1. Annie Dillard, “Total Eclipse”

My favorite writing about solar eclipses comes from Annie Dillard. In her collection of essays, “Teaching a Stone to Talk,” she writes an essay about journeying to Washington in 1979 to witness a full solar eclipse.

The essay’s full of quick-witticisms, like this one, my favorite: “Seeing a partial eclipse bears the same relationship to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does to marrying him.”

I can 100% agree that’s true. A full eclipse is simply shocking and life changing.

Here’s the excerpt of the passage speaking directly about the eclipse:

From all the hills came screams. A piece of sky beside the crescent sun was detaching. It was a loosened circle of evening sky, suddenly lighted from the back. It was an abrupt black body out of nowhere; it was a flat disk; it was almost over the sun. That is when there were screams. At once this disk of sky slid over the sun like a lid. The sky snapped over the sun like a lens cover. The hatch in the brain slammed. Abruptly it was dark night, on the land and in the sky. In the night sky was a tiny ring of light. The hole where the sun belongs is very small. A thin ring of light marked its place. There was no sound. The eyes dried, the arteries drained, the lungs hushed. There was no world … We got the light wrong. In the sky was something that should not be there. In the black sky was a ring of light. It was a thin ring, an old, thin silver wedding band, an old, worn ring. It was an old wedding band in the sky, or a morsel of bone. There were stars. It was all over.

Annie Dillard, “Total Eclipse” in “Teaching a Stone to Talk”

2. James Fenimore Cooper, “The Eclipse”

In the early 1800s, James Fenimore Cooper witnessed a total eclipse in New York and wrote about it for Putnam Magazine. His daughter found it among his papers after his death and it was published posthumously. Like Dillard, he doesn’t stop with the mere physical description, but extrapolates from the event to try to say something about our very existence. Here is an excerpt from “The Eclipse:”

At twelve minutes past eleven, the moon stood revealed in its greatest distinctness — a vast black orb, so nearly obscuring the sun that the face of the great luminary was entirely and absolutely darkened, though a corona of rays of light appeared beyond. The gloom of night was upon us. A breathless intensity of interest was felt by all. There would appear to be something instinctive in the feeling with which man gazes at all phenomena in the heavens. The peaceful rainbow, the heavy clouds of a great storm, the vivid flash of electricity, the falling meteor, the beautiful lights of the aurora borealis, fickle as the play of fancy, — these never fail to fix the attention with something of a peculiar feeling, different in character from that with which we observe any spectacle on the earth.

3. Virginia Woolf, Diary

In 1927, Virginia Woolf traveled from London to North Yorkshire to see a total solar eclipse, and wrote about it in her diary. It was the first solar eclipse in almost 200 years, and another one wouldn’t happen for another 72 years. Woolf’s account of the eclipse serves as a remarkable example of how a natural phenomenon can deeply affect an individual, particularly someone as sensitive and perceptive as Virginia Woolf.

But now the colour was going out. The clouds were turning pale; a reddish black colour. Down in the valley it was an extraordinary scramble of red and black; there was the one light burning; all was cloud down there, and very beautiful, so delicately tinted. The 24 seconds were passing. Then one looked back again at the blue: and rapidly, very very quickly, all the colours faded; it became darker and darker as at the beginning of a violent storm; the light sank and sank; we kept saying this is the shadow; and we thought now it is over – this is one shadow; when suddenly the light went out. We had fallen. It was extinct. There was no colour. The earth was dead.

That was the astonishing moment: & the next when as if a ball had rebounded, the cloud took colour on itself again, only a sparky aethereal colour & so the light came back. I had very strongly the feeling as the light went out of some vast obeisance; something kneeling down, & low & suddenly raised up, when the colours came. They came back astonishingly lightly & quickly & beautifully in the valley & over the hills—at first with a miraculous glittering & aetheriality, later normally almost, but with a great sense of relief. It was like recovery.

4. Issac Asimov, “Nightfall”

Issac Asimov also wrote about a solar eclipse in a sci-fi story about a world that was perpetually in sunlight, and the gigantic moon that would block out the sun. The short story is called “Nightfall”. Eventually, it was expanded into a novella, but not by Asimov himself, but by a ghostwriter.

It’s really about the psychology of disaster, of how humans respond when faced with their source of light being blacked out and being thrust into darkness.

“Imagine darkness – everywhere. No light, as far as you can see. The houses, the trees, the fields, the earth, the sky – black! And stars thrown in, for all I know – whatever they are. Can you conceive it?”
“Yes, I can,” declared Theremon truculently.
And Sheerin slammed his fist down upon the table in sudden passion. “You lie! You can’t conceive that. Your brain wasn’t built for the conception any more than it was built for the conception of infinity or of eternity. You can only talk about it. A fraction of the reality upsets you, and when the real thing comes, your brain is going to be presented with the phenomenon outside its limits of comprehension. You will go mad, completely and permanently! There is no question of it!”

5. Mark Twain, “A Connecticut Yankee”

The first solar eclipse I ever read about was when I was twelve. I was reading Mark Twain’s “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.”

In this novel a time traveler from the 19th century saves his life from a murderous king by predicting a solar eclipse. The King and others are astonished by his power to control the sun, and thus spare him.

It grew darker and darker and blacker and blacker, while I struggled with those awkward sixth-century clothes. It got to be pitch dark, at last, and the multitude groaned with horror to feel the cold uncanny night breezes fan through the place and see the stars come out and twinkle in the sky. At last the eclipse was total, and I was very glad of it, but everybody else was in misery; which was quite natural. I said:

“The king, by his silence, still stands to the terms.” Then I lifted up my hands—stood just so a moment—then I said, with the most awful solemnity: “Let the enchantment dissolve and pass harmless away!”

There was no response, for a moment, in that deep darkness and that graveyard hush. But when the silver rim of the sun pushed itself out, a moment or two later, the assemblage broke loose with a vast shout and came pouring down like a deluge to smother me with blessings and gratitude; and Clarence was not the last of the wash, to be sure.

6. Lloyd C. Douglas, “The Robe”

In “The Robe” by Lloyd C. Douglas, he writes of the eclilpse that happens in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus’ crucifixion. I don’t find the prose particularly memorable for this one, but he does describe the desperation of those stunned by the sudden darkness.

Turning about, with swimming eyes, he started down the hill. It was growing so dark now that the narrow path was indistinct. He flung a backward look over his shoulder, but the descending gloom had swallowed up the knoll.

By the time he reached the city streets, night had fallen on Jerusalem, though it was only mid-afternoon. Lights flickered in the windows. Pedestrians moved slowly, carrying torches. Frightened voices called to one another. Demetrius could not understand what they were saying, but their tone was apprehensive, as if they were wondering about the cause of this strange darkness. He wondered, too, but felt no sense of depression or alarm. The sensation of being alone and unwanted in an unfriendly world had left him. He was not lonely now. He hugged the robe close to his side as if it contained some inexplicable remedy for heartache.

7. Stephen King, Dolores Claiborne

I love that here, King weaves the solar eclipse into the storyline. The whole story is building up to a climactic murder that takes place at the exact moment of the full solar eclipse.

I started walkin again. Our shadows had completely disappeared, and the big white rock where me n Selena had sat that evenin the year before stood out almost as bright as a spotlight, like I’ve noticed it does when there’s a full moon. The light wasn’t like moonlight, Andy—I can’t describe what it was like, how gloomy n weird it was—but it’ll have to do. I know that the distances between things had gotten hard to judge, like they do in moonlight, and that you couldn’t pick out any single blackberry bush anymore—they were all just one big smear with those fireflies dancing back n forth in front of em.

Vera’d told me time n time again that it was dangerous to look straight at the eclipse; she said it could burn your retinas or even blind you. Still, I couldn’t no more resist turnin my head n takin one quick glance up over my shoulder than Lot’s wife could resist takin one last glance back at the city of Sodom. What I saw has stayed in my memory ever since. Weeks, sometimes whole months go by without me thinkin about Joe, but hardly a day goes by when I don’t think of what I saw that afternoon when I looked up over my shoulder and into the sky. Lot’s wife was turned into a pillar of salt because she couldn’t keep her eyes front n her mind on her business, and I’ve sometimes thought it’s a wonder I didn’t have to pay the same price.

The eclipse wasn’t total yet, but it was close. The sky itself was a deep royal purple, and what I saw hangin in it above the reach looked like a big black pupil with a gauzy veil of fire spread out most of the way around it. On one side there was a thin crescent of sun still left, like beads of molten gold in a blast furnace. I had no business lookin at such a sight and I knew it, but once I had, it seemed like I couldn’t look away.

The post 7 Solar Eclipses in Literature appeared first on Bookfox.

Every member of my book club has decided to list our top 25 novels of all time, and in the spirit of that disclosure, I decided to make mine public here at Bookfox.

A list of the most important books is like a horoscope reading of your soul. Give me someone’s list, and I’ll tell you what they love, what they value, what they champion. That said, don’t read too much into this list! My soul is not quite as corrupt as some of these books would suggest.

Almost twenty years ago I made a list of my top 50 books — there was a trend going around the literary bloggers — and I would link to it but it’s been forever lost in the cosmos of the internet. However, I posted a copy of it beneath this newer list, and there’s a decent amount of overlap.

I should say that these do not appear in any particular order. #25 didn’t squeak in, and #1 is not my all-time favorite. It’s hard enough to narrow the entire field of books down to 25 selections, much less order those from top to bottom, like some kind of cage-match ranking.

This also isn’t a list of the “Greatest Novels,” whatever that means. This is merely a personal selection of my favorite books.

There were three ways I limited the books I was choosing from:

• It’s only fiction. There’s no nonfiction on this list, or else Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard would be here. There’s also no poetry (sorry, Mary Oliver). I squeaked in one collection of short fiction, and one novella, but all other 23 are proper novels.
• There’s no repeated authors. No matter how much I loved two books by the same author, I didn’t want to give anyone the privilege of appearing twice.
• I tried to focus on modern novels. I did include a handful of older titles at the end, simply because leaving them off would physically pain me. But 80% of these books were written in the past 30 or 40 years.

How did I decide on my top 25 books? Well, when I thought about it, I used three criteria:

1. Stickiness. You can’t elevate a book right after reading it, or even 6 months after reading it. It has to linger for years and years in your brain. Durability is one of the key factors of greatness.
2. Re-reading. I don’t re-read a lot of books. So if a novel truly has captured my imagination, that’s the only time I ever would reread. A good number of the books below I’ve gone back to.
3. Weight. There are plenty of fun-to-read books that don’t deserve to be on an all-time favorite list. For me, my favorites need to make me wrestle with the most fundamental aspects of being alive, and they need to haunt me with provocative questions.

Hope you enjoy this list!

1. Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy

Reading Blood Meridian is a kind of test. If you keep reading, you fail the test, because you must be a horrible human being to persevere in the face of genocide and babies hanging on trees.

But what keeps me coming back to this book is the Shakespearean-level language, and the rewriting of the myth of the American founding, and the grappling with the heart of evil.

2. 2666, Robert Bolano

I am aware this is a polarizing choice. Half the people I meet think this is a dreadful book they could not finish, while the other half gush about its praises.

But I’m swept up by the search for the reclusive author Archimboldi, and captivated by the love triangles and the plight of the femicide victims in Mexico.

It’s also a better book than the much lauded “The Savage Dectectives,” in my opinion.

 

3. The Secret History, Donna Tartt

This is a 600 page book and I read it in a single sitting. I received it at 3:00 p.m. and I didn’t stop reading until 11:00 p.m.

Yes, it’s that good.

It’s a misnomer to call this an academic novel. Yes, it takes place at a university, and yes it involves a tight-knit group of young scholars devoted to ancient Greek, but the murder mystery at its core, and the way that the story unravels, transcends genre.

4. Snow, Orhan Pamuk

Orhan Pamuk is a Turkish writer, and this is the story of a wave of suicides among Muslim girls forbidden to wear their headscarves at school.

I love the “enclosed space” of this novel, because the whole town is snowed in and isolated, and how the book wrestles with faith, religion, death, and love.

5. Neapolitan Quartet, Elena Ferrante,

I am aware this is cheating, choosing four books and pretending like it’s only one. But to be fair, I read them all in a two-week rush, so to me they felt like a single, unified work. Splitting them into four was more of a marketing decision than an artistic decision.

But let me say that the sheer scope of this Italian series, and the psychological depths of these women, are unparalleled in the world of literature. I love it so much.

I also enjoy her shorter novels, but the sheer imaginative heft of these make them my favorites by far.

6. Elementary Particles, Michel Houellebecq

I know that Houellebecq is the bad boy of French literature, and I’ll probably get flack for including him on this list, but this really is a fantastic novel.

It’s the story of two half-brothers, one a scientist, and the other a sexually addicted hedonist, and it grapples with the future of humanity itself (you know, light reading).

7. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles, Haruki Murakami

It’s difficult to pick just one Murakami novel, but I think this is his masterpiece.

His last two novels have been rubbish — they feel like pastiches of his former work — but his mid-career novels are wildly imaginative. He puts the magical into the realism.

Ostensibly, this is about a man searching for his cat and for his wife, but the surreal components of the story elevate it to canonical status.

8. Gilead, Marilynne Robinson

Robinson exudes quiet grace. In this tiny, unassuming book, she manages to fit a whole world of family strife and reflection.

It feels more like a meditation than a narrative, but I love stepping into John Ames’ mind and voice, and journeying alongside him.

It’s one of the rare books in literature that make you want to be a better human being.

9. Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro

I love Kazuo Ishiguro and have read every book of his, and it was a close call between this novel and “The Remains of the Day.” In the end, I’ve thought more about “Never Let Me Go” over the decades, and so it gets the nod.

Ishiguro has the ability to take a genre like fantasy and sci-fi, and literify it — see “Klara and the Sun” and “The Buried Giant.”

For those of us who appreciate the pleasures of genre fiction, but yearn for the literary craft, language, and characterization, he’s the ideal author.

10. Laurus, Eugene Vodolazkin

If you are well read, you’ve at least heard of all the books up to this point, but you might not have heard of this one.

Vodolazkin is a Russian writer who penned this marvelous, surreal novel about a 14th century monk losing his wife during childbirth.

It explores plagues and poverty, healing and miracles, and it takes at least two readings to get a grip on it.

11. Jayber Crow, Wendell Berry

If I hadn’t limited this list to novels, I might have chosen Berry’s collected essays (or perhaps some of his poetry).

Even so, he’s written a number of novels that deserve your attention — “Hannah Coulter” and “The Ballad of Old Jack” among them.

It’s a story of unrequited love, and presents a philosophy of how to live well within the confines of small-town America.

With every book of his I read, I feel a little wiser.

12. A Thousand Acres, Jane Smiley

This Iowan re-imagining of King Lear features the implosion of a farm family.

It’s a story of a domineering father, a love interest who comes back to town, and the turmoil between siblings.

13. The Sellout, Paul Beatty

When you read that first paragraph and swear out loud, thinking: what have I gotten myself into?

But then you buckle up and settle down for one of the funniest, wittiest satires ever written about race in America.

You won’t regret reading this story of a black man in Los Angeles who attempts to reintroduce slavery and segregation.

 

14. Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Díaz

Oscar is so nerdy and dorky, and the fact that he can’t get laid is both funny and sad. This is a book that champions obscure references in acrobatic prose.

Longstanding curses, Caribbean dictators, and beautiful Dominican women — there’s a lot to entertain here.

15. Blindness, Jose Saramago

What if the entire world went blind? That is the premise of this book, and the “what if” concept takes place inside a prison where the blind have been corralled.

Part fable, part political allegory, but all legendary storytelling, Saramago explores the way people within communities oppress others and jockey for power.

16. City of Tranquil Light, Bo Caldwell

I picked this one mostly for personal reasons, but what all-time list isn’t based on personal reasons?

Four generations of my family were missionaries in China, and when I read this book, I see them, I weep with them, I rejoice with them.

It’s a tender story of a marriage steeped in kindness, and lacking any kind of agenda or dogma.

17. The Known World, Edward P. Jones

I’ve read a good amount of novels about slavery, and the danger is that they start to resemble each other. “The Underground Railroad” by Colson Whitehead, for example, trades on so many familiar tropes that I felt I’d read it before.

Jones, on the other hand, removes the governor from his imagination and goes full throttle on a wholly original story.

BTW: the first chapter of this book is one of the best I’ve ever read.

18. Wizard of the Crow, Ngugi wa Thiong’o

What I like about this novel is that it upends so many of the traditional narrative sequences of Western storytelling. Thiong’o is drawing from oral techniques and African traditions to craft a story that is impossible to predict.

It’s also a madcap and hilarious book.

19. Metamorphosis, Kafka

When I taught in a Great Books program, this was the one book I wished I could add to the curriculum.

Kafka is one of the greatest giants of literature, his shadow sprawling over every book after him. There’s a reason we say Kafkaesque — not every writer gets their name made into an adjective.

I also love the theme of metamorphosis in literature. From Ovid’s to Lewis Carroll to H.G. Wells, change is at the heart of storytelling.

20. Collected Stories, Flannery O’Connor

A colleague in creative writing at a university said that Flannery O’Connor wasn’t great because she didn’t write about love.

It’s true. She doesn’t. But you should never apply quotas or checklists to great works of literature — just examine what’s inside, and accept what’s present.

Flannery O’Connor remains a hardbitten, no-nonsense writer of small-town Southern life, and I love her for it.

21. Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad

This is a bottomless book. I read again and again and again and every time I get something new out of it.

Kurtz looms large in my imagination, up there with The Judge and Cathy Ames, as a character who haunts me.

22. A Confederacy of Dunces

Ignatius J. Reilly is part philosopher, part hot dog vendor, and all kinds of crazy, decked out in a hunting cap and a medieval worldview. This dude’s a walking, talking embodiment of chaos and hilarity.

“Dunces” is one of my top three funniest books of all top (“The Sellout” and “Catch-22” are also in the mix).

I love Ignatius so much I even did a literary pilgrimage and visited his statue in New Orleans. Hats off to you, you crazy oddball.

23. East of Eden, John Steinbeck

Steinbeck fans are evenly divided on whether this or “Grapes of Wrath” is better, but for my money, “East of Eden” is the easy winner.

I appreciate that it’s a California novel, where I live, and a novel with an ambitious scope of time and characters.

If “timshel” doesn’t mean anything to you, you might want to read this book.  After my neighbor read it, he got a “timshel” tattoo.

24. All the King’s Men, Robert Penn Warren

I prefer my literary fiction to have all the twists and surprises and pacing of a commercial novel, so I get the best words of both characters/language and also the entertainment of plot.

“All the King’s Men” delivers it all. It is a quintessential American novel, with football and politics and a wrestling with history.

25. Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Bakhtin said that Dostoevsky was a great writer because he refused to be dogmatic.

Dostoevsky gathered all these characters together and let each one speak.

The result is a polyperspectival novel with so many voices, and I love stepped into that conversation about morality and God.

2011 List: 50 Literary Pillars

Here is my list of 50 Literary Pillars, which I wrote in 2011 for the blog “Big Other”, and which includes nonfiction and even a couple of podcasts/films. Some of these are head scratchers, and might have been picked because I’d read them recently. Some others reflect a more experimental vein of reading (I was younger, I still liked that high art).

1. Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy. I once suggested this as a fixture on high school reading lists and a principal told me parents would riot. I still think it belongs in every possible canon.

2. The Border Trilogy by Cormac McCarthy. More ways to describe lightening than you thought possible.

3. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky.

4. Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky. The great novel of ideas.

5. House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski. Of course the inventive typography is wonderful, but the pathos within the erudition makes this book sing.

6. Blindness by Jose Saramago. Taught me the power of a “what if” premise.

7. Snow by Orhan Pamuk.

8. The Collected Stories of Deborah Eisenberg by Deborah Eisenberg. Compression, compression, compression. She is the best at it.

9. The Collected Stories of Flannery O’Connor by Flannery O’Connor. She knows the human heart, all that is wicked and all that is good.

10. After the Quake by Haruki Murakami. Contains two of best short stories ever written. The rest are pretty good too.

11. Wind Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. Cats, classical music and wells.

12. Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace. I don’t mean to get all Heraclitan on you, but I don’t know how you can be the same person after reading this book.

13. Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace. This entry is a placeholder for all of Wallace’s nonfiction. Read it all.

14. The Children’s Hospital by Chris Adrian. If any contemporary writers have imaginations better than Adrian, I haven’t read them.

15. The Elementary Particles by Michel Houellebecq. A primer on the wrong ways to think about sex.

16. 2666 by Roberto Bolano. I wish all novels were this ambitious.

17. Collected Fictions by Jorge Luis Borges. This is an infinite library.

18. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. The funniest book I’ve ever read.

19. Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry. Teaches you what the world should be and what it shouldn’t.

20. The Art of the Commonplace by Wendell Berry. The book I quote more than any other.

21. The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene. Gives religion legs and heart.

22. Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. The sheer force of language makes me feel inadequate as a writer.

23. Children of Men by P.D. James

24. Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

25. Moby Dick by Melville. The archetypal “large, loose baggy monster.”

26. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

27. Miracle Boy by Pinckney Benedict. He writes the stories I want to write.

28. Mr. Blue by Myles Connely

29. Turn of the Screw by Henry James.

30. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne

31. Metropole by Ferenc Karinthy. I’m a sucker for languages. Especially imaginary ones.

32. If on a winter’s night a traveler by Italo Calvino.Ah, the structural possibilities of narrative.

33. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. The book that made me become a writer.

34. Jesus’ Son by Denis Johnson. Surreal and wonderful.

35. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. The power of this novella is that its meaning always lies just beyond my grasp.

36. The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. In my experience of reading, the first marriage of philosophy and literature.

37. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. The second marriage.

38. Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee.

39. Jealousy by Alain Robbe-Grillet. He upended all my novelistic rules.

40. The Winners by Julio Cortazar. I usually dislike the amount of dialogue in his work, but the premise of this mystery cruise carried me through.

41. Gilead Marilynne Robinson

42. The Old Testament. “Where we find men, things, and words in a style so grandiose that the Latin and Greek literatures have nothing to lay upon it.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

43. Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche. Nietzsche taught me how to think.

44. Fear and Trembling by Soren Kierkegaard. Since I’m going to be a father of twins in the next few weeks, the father/son relationship haunts me.

45. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions by Thomas Kuhn. How to think about the progress of science.

46. Sexual Personae by Camille Paglia. Defined my notions of gender and sex.

47. Orphan Master’s Son by Adam Johnson.

48. The Decalogue by Krzysztof Kieslowski

49. Mars Hill Audio

50. Lonely Planet Guides. Because travel has fed my imagination.

The post My Favorite 25 Novels of All Time appeared first on Bookfox.

I did not read as many books as I would have liked this year, but I still read 70. That’s a dip from last year’s total of 100, but in my defense, I did midwife a number of books of other authors through developmental editing and publishing. I also finished editing my own novel, which I’m currently shopping to agents.

I read pretty widely, as you will see from the partial list below, but I’d say that my biggest group of books is international fiction, both in English and translated. I read sixteen international books this year, and I love reading outside of the borders and encountering cultures and worlds far removed from my own. Look at the graphic at the bottom of this post to see some specific titles.

Without further ado, here are my 7 favorite books of the year.

I feel like Bernard Malamud might get overshadowed by other post-war Jewish novelists like Philip Roth and Saul Bellow, but for my money, I dig him. You probably know him because he wrote “The Natural,” made into the eponymous movie with Robert Redford. This year I explored his range with “The Fixer,” “The Assistant,” and “The Tenants,” all of which I enjoyed (and which were wildly different from each other.). Easy-to-read prose with stories wrestling with moral issues.

Michael Faber is the Danish guy who wrote the missionary-to-aliens novel, “The Book of Strange New Things” (the one that’s not “The Sparrow.”). This year I dipped into his most famous work, “Under the Skin,” which got made into the movie with Scarlett Johansson. Haven’t watched the movie, but I loved the book. It feels like literary sci-fi, in the mold of Kazuo Ishiguro’s “Never Let Me Go,” gently easing you into a story of an alien woman picking up hitchhikers and doing unmentionable things to them.

“Kristin Lavransdatter,” by the Norwegian writer Sigrid Undset, was a novel I’ve been meaning to read for a few years. Written in the 1920s, it’s set in the 14^th century, and it’s one of the greatest love stories ever written, up there with Shakespeare and Austen. It’s a trilogy and I’m excited to read the next two books.

I’m depressed that Bo Caldwell has only written two books, because I would gladly consume anything she writes. Last year I loved “The City of Tranquil Light” and this year I had the pleasure of “The Distant Land of my Father,” a wonderful portrait of an expat family in China during World War II, which explores a daughter’s complicated relationship with her father.

As far as fave memoirs for the year, last year I loved the surfing memoir “Barbarian Days,” which I still recommend to anyone who will listen. This year my favorite was … drum roll please … “H is for Hawk,” a British memoir of dealing with a father’s death by training a wild hawk. Helen Macdonald writes beautifully and muses thoughtfully.

After reading a book, some decay under time’s pressure and others ripen. “The Great Passion” by James Runcie is the latter. It’s the story of Bach composing St. Matthew’s Passion, but it’s a rich meditation on art and grief. We read it inside my book club, and though the rest of the guys enjoyed it, I think I enjoyed it the most.

Lastly, I have to mention “Stoner” by John Williams, recommended to me at a writer’s gathering in Anaheim. No, it’s not about marijuana—Stoner is the protagonist’s name. It’s described as an academic novel, but it’s really a portrait of an unremarkable man, his scholarly career and his love for his wife. It’s quiet greatness.

I also left Goodreads, after a long affair that was not love, merely convenience. It seems Amazon has spiked Goodreads out of spite – buying it and then never allocating any resources to it – so Goodreads is stuck with design and technology from 2013.

So I decided to leave the Amazon ecosystem and try out StoryGraph, which has fun data points for your life in reading:

• 8% of my books this year were over 500 pages
• I give 5 stars more than any other ranking
• 22% of my reading is Nonfiction, while 73% is Fiction, and sorry Poetry, you’re only about 5%.

I miss the community aspect of Goodreads, but StoryGraph is better in every other way.

So this isn’t from StoryGraph, but I did make a map of some of my international reading this year. These aren’t necessarily my favorite books, fyi.

Here are the books, listed from left to right:

• Canada: “The Peculiar Life of a Lonely Postman” by Denis Theriault
• Iceland: “Independent People” by Halldor Laxness
• Nigeria: “Chronicles from the Land of the Happiest People on Earth” by Wole Soyinka
• Norway: “Kristin Lavransdattar” by Sigrid Undset
• Poland: “Solaris” by Stanisław Lem
• China: “The Three-Body Problem” by Cixin Liu
• Australia: “True History of the Kelly Gang” by Peter Carey
• Japan: “Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids” by Kenzaburo Oe
• Russia: “We” by Yevgeny Zamyatin

Sorry, South/Central America! In previous years I’d dipped pretty heavily into South/Central American fiction, because I love it so much, but apparently no books this year in Spanish.

Two of these are sci-fi — other than literary fiction, sci-fi is probably my favorite genre (see Michael Faber above). I like the sheer possibilities of it, unlike more formulaic genres like crime or romance, where the books all tend to resemble one another after you’ve read a few hundred.

My favorite book by Kenzaburo Oe remains “A Personal Matter”, but I did enjoy “Nip the Buds.”

Denis Theriault is a quick read, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, although the twist at the ending is probably more appropriate for literary readers (you’ve been warned).

I did not enjoy Wole Soyinka’s novel — I just couldn’t get into it.

I did enjoy Halldor Laxness’s “Independent People” which I read on a recommendation by Ann Patchett at Parnassus books‘ social media. It’s a sprawling epic with a strong streak of independence, but it doesn’t just champion independence, it also shows the limitations of it.

I hope all of your reading has been pleasurable this year, and you’ve found wonderful books that enlarged your world! In the comments, please name your favorite novel of the year.

The post Year in Reading (2023) appeared first on Bookfox.

“In my life there are many silences,” wrote the novelist Juan Rulfo, “and in my writing, too.”

It’s important to think about how your story uses silence. Most of the craft of writing focuses on all the noise — the dialogue, the cacophony of the senses, the action.

But silence is not just an absence, but a way of communicating what can’t be communicated with words.

Silence can:

• show a character’s discomfort
• create the mood for a book
• slow down the pace of your story.

Here are four ways you should be using silence in your fiction.

1. Silence for Pacing

Sometimes you need to slow a scene down. Maybe a character dropped a bombshell of a line, and you want the reader to dwell on it for a moment, rather than rushing headlong into the next paragraph.

A moment of silence helps to pause your story. To take a break for a moment, before the rush of action and conversation begins again.

Here’s an example from Karen Joy Fowler’s “We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves”:

“Around then, there was one of those strange moments when all the noise inside the restaurant suddenly stopped. Nobody spoke. Nobody clicked the sides of their coffee cup with their spoon. Nobody outside barked or honked or coughed. Fermata. Freeze-frame.”

Silence can also show a moment of awkwardness between two characters. In this scene, a brother and sister are meeting again after years and years of not seeing each other.

Silence is a way of showing the distance between them.

2. Silence as Characterization

Plenty of characters in fiction don’t speak much. Staying silent is excellent characterization — we feel like we know them because of how little they speak.

Here’s an example from Arundhati Roy’s “The God of Small Things”:

Estha had always been a quiet child, so no one could pinpoint with any degree of accuracy exactly when he had stopped talking. Stopped talking altogether, that is. The fact is that there wasn’t an “exactly when.” It had been a gradual winding down and closing shop. A barely noticeable quieting. As though he had simply run out of conversation and had nothing left to say. Yet Estha’s silence was never awkward. Never intrusive. Never noisy.

I love that Estha’s silence grows across this passage. He starts as quiet and then grows to complete silence. This silence is character change.

So here, silence is not a blankness. It’s a full, rounded character trait that tells us more about Estha than pages of dialogue ever could.

Have you written a character who is tight-lipped? It might be a good idea to try out a character who withholds speech.

3. Silence as Atmosphere

Using silence in your book can create a mood.

In Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road,” the post-apocalyptic landscape is silent because almost nothing is alive. So the silence is the silence of death, of a landscape where nearly everything has been killed.

When McCarthy repeats the word silence again and again and again throughout the book, the reader feels the agony of a world scorched by a nuclear disaster, where even keeping alive is a struggle.

• “They stood listening in the utter silence.”
• “They trudged all day, the boy in silence.”
• “….he retrieved the tin with the pliers and they ate in silence.”
• “In the darkness and the silence he could see bits of light that appeared random on the night grid.”
• “They stood and brushed themselves off, listening to the silence in the distance.”
• “The nights were blinding cold and casket black and the long reach of the morning had a terrible silence to it.”

In one section he repeats a two-word sentence three times:

“The silence. The silence. The silence.”

He’s making the silence haunt these characters and haunt the reader.

4. Silence for Dialogue

I have a whole video on how to use silence in dialogue in my course, “The “Ultimate Guide to Writing Dialogue.”

Your characters shouldn’t respond to every line of dialogue. Sometimes, you just need them to be quiet.

Silence can indicate that they want to avoid the question, or are uncomfortable, or don’t know what to say, or refuse to say what they want to say.

In these cases, silence speaks volumes.

Here’s a classic example from Ernest Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants”:

“It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,” the man said. “It’s not really an operation at all.”

The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on.

“I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s really not anything. It’s just to let the air in.”

The girl did not say anything.

We know the girl disagrees with this idea to get an abortion because she doesn’t say anything. She’s afraid to disagree out loud. But we can sense how uncomfortable she is with this conversation.

Here are three other ways to handle silence in your dialogue:

• Use Punctuation. For example, use ellipses to indicate a pause in time before another character speaks
• Use Description. When you have a description of the outside world next to dialogue, it will slow down the pace and feel like silence.
• Use Thoughts. Intersperse a POV character’s thoughts around the dialogue, and the reader will understand nothing is being said at the moment.

Writing Challenges

1. Jay and Silent Bob: Try writing a passage of dialogue where one character does all the talking and the other stays silent. Show the non-speaker’s gestures, noises, body language and actions to off-set the speaker’s lines.
2. Describing Silence: Write a scene where the main character experiences a profound moment of silence. Describe the setting and the character’s internal and external reactions. Consider how the lack of sound affects the senses and emotions.
3. Dialogue Interruption: Create a dialogue between two characters where a significant pause or silence occurs. This silence should be loaded with meaning — it might represent tension, understanding, a secret, or an unspeakable thought. Reflect on how the characters navigate this silence.
4. Meet Mr. Quiet: Craft a scene where a character must respond to a situation or another character without words. This could be through facial expressions, gestures, or actions. Explore how much can be conveyed without spoken language.
5. Silent Twist Epiphany: Write a short piece of flash fiction (under 1000 words) where the climax of the story involves a moment of silence. This could be a realization, a decision made, or an important event, where silence plays a crucial role.
6. Weaponized Silence: Write a scene where two characters are in conflict, and one of them uses silence as a tool or weapon. How does this silence affect the other character and the dynamics of their interaction?
7. Mute City: Set a scene in a typically noisy environment (like a busy city street, a school, or a marketplace) and then remove all sound. How does this change the atmosphere? What do the characters notice that they wouldn’t otherwise?

Good luck with writing silence in your fiction!

Don’t forget to subscribe to my newsletter for more tips like this.

The post 4 Ways to use Silence in your Fiction appeared first on Bookfox.

School visits are an important source of income and exposure for most children’s book authors, but if you haven’t been in a classroom in awhile, reaching out can be intimidating.  (What if you say something wrong and end up in the principal’s office?) 

As a veteran teacher of 17 years, I’ve seen my share of guest speakers, and I’m here to fill you in on what librarians, teachers, and school administrators are really thinking, and what to do and say to give yourself the best chance of success. (And don’t worry, we rarely put adults in detention.)  

1. Don’t Call the Office 

When you’re trying to figure out where to start, calling the local school office might seem like a logical first move.  But a school office on an average Tuesday is busier than an airport the week before Christmas, and calling the frazzled secretary and asking lots of questions is not the best way to go about getting the information you need.  

Instead, visit the school’s website and look for a faculty directory that lists email addresses.  The best point of contact at most elementary schools is going to be the school librarian, but you might also reach out to:

• A teacher for a single grade (to just visit a single classroom)
• a designated language arts teacher
• principal
• assistant principal
• the leader of the PTO (if there is one). 

If you want to send a paper flyer or packet of some kind, the website will also list the school’s mailing address. Just make sure you address it to a specific person at the school, or it is bound to end up in the trash.  

2. Don’t be Spammy

Educators get hundreds of emails a day, so the last thing you want to do is spam them with dozens of emails because you’ve forgotten who you’ve emailed already. 

Keep a basic spreadsheet with each school’s contact person, email address, website, etc.  And note the date you first reach out to them. Wait about two weeks from that first contact to send them a polite “nudge.”

After that, if you still haven’t heard back, cross that school off your list until next year when you might get a different response.  

And speaking of dates, NEVER email, call, text, or send a smoke signal during the first or last week of school. Ever.  

3. Always provide a Digital Copy 

Teachers want to preview the entire book and make sure it’s appropriate for their students. 

To eliminate that barrier to entry, include a PDF copy of the book in your first contact. This sets their mind at ease, and lets them know you’re not promoting something controversial that could get them in trouble with parents or administration.

Plus, giving something for free is a nice gesture that makes them more likely to want to invite you!

4. Have a Great Pitch

So many authors think, “Hey, you want me to come talk about my book?” is enough to get them in the door.

But entertaining a large group of students for any length of time takes way more planning and hard work than most people think, and approaching it with an attitude that’s too laid back is a huge red flag for educators.  They need to see that you have a plan and that it’s appropriate for the age group, time frame, etc.  

So, make sure your email or flyer includes: 

• A brief, clear description of what your presentation will include.  (It’s a good idea to include a sample slide or two.) 
• A general guide for how long the presentation will take. 
• The age group your presentation is appropriate for.  
• A polite request for any special equipment or accommodations you may need.

5. Be Willing to Go Virtual

Of course it’s better to do in-person visits. But more and more schools are inviting children’s book authors to Zoom into the classroom, and this widens your reach.

Now you can reach out to schools not only in your geographical area, but all over the country. It limits what you can do in the presentation (so you won’t be able to do some of the suggestion in my next point), but it widens your reach.

Before you try a virtual presentation, look up examples of how they’re done on Youtube. Here are some fantastic examples:

• Darren Farrell reads “Thank You Octopus.” Notice he talks about the process of writing the book, and doesn’t just read it, but explains as he goes through.
• Author Jules Marriner did an evergreen visit that any teacher can play, which can get you a lot of reach in terms of children who learn about you.
• Watch Tammi Sauer do a presentation for kids. See how physical and active she is? Her body is constantly in motion.

6. School vs. Classroom

It’s fine to visit a single classroom, especially if you’re just starting off.

But if you can get a presentation to the entire school, or to several grades at once, obviously that’s fantastic. Usually authors who can book that have a few books out and have a proven track record at schools, so you might want to work up to this.

Don’t be afraid to ask for a larger presentation — they can only say no! (and you shouldn’t be afraid of a no).

But usually it’s better to work with 3 – 5 single classrooms before you start pitching yourself as right for a whole-school or multiple grade presentation.

7. Talk about Money

Of course school visits aren’t just a paycheck; they’re a golden opportunity for authors to connect with young readers.

As an author it’s wonderful to see interaction and seeing the kids’ reactions to your work. If you’re an author, you need to experience this.

But … you should talk about money. For instance, ask if the school has a stipend they give to visiting authors.

It won’t be much, but it’ll make you seem professional to ask, and most authors make just as much money off teaching and presentations as they do off book sales, so it does make a difference. Here are some common financial arrangements:

• Flat fee (this is similar to a stipend).
• Book Sales (ask them to buy a few copies for the library and individual classrooms).
• Free (best if you’re just starting off)

8. Offer Extra Perks

When you make your pitch, tell the school contact about your plans for extra perks.

For instance, throwing in a free coloring page for students can make you unforgettable. It’s a simple act but ensures that each kid takes home something, even if they can’t afford a book.

A free coloring pages for students can also double as a page that directs parents to your website (which gives you the chance to make more sales!).

A coloring page doesn’t cost you much, but it does make your visit more memorable. Bonus points if the coloring page is directly related to the theme of your book. Even better, have your illustrator take all the color out of one of your pages of the book, and use that as the coloring page!

9. Suggest an Interactive Element

Don’t just have the kids sit while you read to them. Come up with a fun gimmick that gets them involved!

Here are some ideas to get kids out of their seat and participate in your story:

• Story Theater
  • Take a short segment of your book and turn it into a mini-play. Cast some willing kids as characters, and narrate the story while they act it out.
• Interactive Q&A Wheel
  • Create a spinning wheel with various questions or prompts related to your book. Spin it and let a student answer the question or complete the prompt, then offer small rewards like stickers or bookmarks for participation. This not only engages the kids but also helps them to think critically about your book.
• Scavenger Hunt
  • Hide clues around the classroom that lead to a “treasure”—perhaps a copy of your book or some themed goodies. Each clue could be a question or challenge related to your book. Divide the kids into teams and set them loose!
• Pop Quiz with Rewards
  • Compile a list of multiple-choice questions based on your book. Use interactive clickers or a show of hands for answers, and reward correct answers with small trinkets or bonus questions.
• DIY Craft Corner
  • Create a simple craft activity that ties into the theme or characters of your book. Prepare kits ahead of time and distribute them to the students. Walk them through the craft as part of your presentation. Just make sure the craft pieces are cheap, because you’ll need to have a lot of them!
• Soundtrack Session
  • Choose different genres or styles of music that fit various scenes in your book. The second time you read your book, play snippets while reading those particular segments, and ask the kids how the music enhances or changes their perception of the story.

If you pull off even a couple of these gimmicks, you’re not just another visiting author—you’re the main event!

10. Show Teachers Your Visit Helps

Inviting a guest speaker into a school is a LOT of extra work for the teacher. 

I know, it seems like you’re helping them out by taking care of the students for an hour, but it’s not that simple. 

There is:

• permission to be requested from the administration
• lesson plan schedules to be adjusted
• routines that will be thrown out of whack, and the kids are sure to be hyped up the rest of the day.

So, if you want the school to say yes, you need to demonstrate that the benefits outweigh all that extra stress.  

Clearly identify what benefit your visit will provide for the students.  For example:

• Classroom Activity: Your book features characters who become friends by being pen pals, so your presentation includes an activity where each student will write a friendly letter. 
• Align with a holiday: Your book is about a military kid who misses their parent who is stationed overseas, so you offer to present the week before Veteran’s Day to raise awareness.  
• Moral Lesson: Your book is about a character who learns to stand up to a bully, so your presentation will teach kids a simple finger play and song that reminds them of safe ways to stand up for themselves.  
• Inspiration: You were a struggling student in elementary school, but now you are an author! So your presentation will focus on your personal story to inspire struggling students.  

Be as specific as you can about what value you can offer, and then, make sure you actually deliver on your promise!  

11. Work out Logistics Early

Most authors send home some kind of order form so that students can purchase their books.  How you arrange this may depend on your publisher/printer’s required lead times, your willingness/ability to lug a hundred books from your car into the school, and many other factors.  The important thing is to have a plan you can clearly communicate to the school up front.  

For example, my author visit flyer reads:  

Please send the attached order form out to all students in advance of my visit.  Completed order forms and payment must be turned in to me two weeks prior to the visit in order to allow time for the books to ship.  I will sign all books before the day of the visit and pass them out to students that day.  

Your plan might be very different!  Just make sure you communicate it up front.  Teachers and librarians have enough planning to do as it is!  

12. Be flexible. 

I know, I know…I’ve just spent all this time telling you to make a plan, and now I’m telling you to be willing to change it?  

Yep!  Here’s why.  

Having a plan in place up-front shows the teacher or librarian that you know what you’re doing.  But you should also show them that you’re flexible.

If you know anything about education, you know that teachers spend a great deal of time planning the perfect lesson or unit…but are masters at improvising when those plans have to change. 

Add a line at the bottom of your email that says:

“If you have any questions or special requests, don’t hesitate to ask!  I am committed to working with schools to provide a great experience for students!”

If you’re a children’s book author, getting into the schools in your area can be a powerful marketing strategy and a great way to increase sales.  You just have to have the right approach!  So reach out and get started!  

With these teacher-tested tips, you’ll be at the top of your class!   

FAQ:

Q: Should I charge?

A: At the beginning, you shouldn’t. If you’re a newcomer trying to get exposure, a free visit could be your ticket in.

However, later on in your career, once you’ve gotten some bestsellers under your belt, you should definitely be paid for your time and expertise.

Q: What grade should I target?

A: Target the middle age group that your book is intended for. For instance, if your book is for ages 5 – 7, then you probably want to hit 1st grade or so, which would roughly be kids aged 6.

Remember that it’s okay to go lower (down to kindergarten), but never never go above the age range (fifth and sixth graders will think your picture book is uncool if it’s targeting younger children).

Q: How long should my visit last?

A: This can vary, but generally, 30 to 45 minutes is the sweet spot. It’s enough time to do a reading, a Q&A session, and maybe even one of those killer classroom gimmicks we talked about earlier.

Q: What should I bring to the visit?

A: Anything you need to sell copies.

• Copies of your book for sale or signing
• Any props or visuals for your presentation
• Handouts or activity sheets related to your book

Remember, the goal is to create a memorable experience, not just read a book.

Q: How do I handle book sales?

A: Coordinate this with the school beforehand. Some schools allow on-site sales; others may require you to only offer books for purchase online. Advance sales are also a great strategy, and then you hand out the books to the kids on your visit.

Remember younger kids won’t have money, so make sure to hand out fliers beforehand for pre-sales, and also hand out fliers on the day of, so parents who missed the first flier can buy your book after the visit.

Also, ask if the teacher has funds to purchase a copy for her classroom.

Q: Should I send a thank-you note afterward?

A: Absolutely. A thank-you email (or, even better, a handwritten note) shows professionalism and appreciation. Plus, it keeps the door open for future visits.

Now that you’ve got the lowdown, you’re ready to graduate from aspiring visitor to guest-of-honor author. Good luck out there!

The post 12 Insider Tips for Authors Booking School Visits appeared first on Bookfox.

So you want to start a children’s book, and you’re faced with a blank page.

Where do you begin?

Well, the first line of your children’s picture book is the most important line. It sets the tone for the rest of the book, and grabs the reader’s attention.

Mess it up, and the reader, either a child or an adult, will dump your book faster than a kid getting rid of broccoli. Nail it, and you’ve got them hooked.

Now, if you haven’t read my post, “8 Steps to Starting Your Children’s Book“, that’s the post you should read before this one. That lays all the foundation for what to do before you begin, and then this is the post to guide you through writing that first line.

So, how do you ensure your book has an irresistible start? Let’s take a look and see.

1. What You’re Doing Wrong

Before we get into the fixes, let’s take a moment to recognize the common traps.

• Boring the Reader: Kids aren’t going to wait for your story to get interesting.
• Too Complicated: A complex prologue may work in adult fiction, not so much here.
• Lack of Action: You’ve got to start somewhere exciting, folks.
• Starting with Description: Let illustrations do the describing.

So, if you’re stumbling in any of these areas, keep reading. And if you’re utterly lost, you might want to check out How to Write a Children’s Book to start at square one.

2. The Hook: Make it Snappy

The most memorable first lines aren’t just pretty words strung together. They serve specific purposes. Here are some strategies to consider:

1. Inject Conflict: Kids love drama as much as adults do. A conflict or question can draw them into your story world instantly.
2. Be Quirky: A little oddity can go a long way in sparking curiosity. Get your reader to say, “Wait, what?”
3. Target the Senses: Make it sensory. You’ve got sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste to play with. Use them.

Here’s how you would do each one of those three things:

1. Inject Conflict: “The day Gracie decided she hated vegetables, the carrots started plotting.”
   • Picture it: An underground carrot revolution, complete with spy radishes and a broccoli kingpin.
2. Be Quirky: “Nobody knew why Mr. Muffins wore a tutu, but it made Tuesday mornings interesting.”
   • Is Mr. Muffins a dog, a cat, or maybe even a walrus? And why Tuesdays? Imagine the possibilities.
3. Target the Senses: “The air smelled of freshly baked cookies and impending doom.”
   • Cookies and doom? That’s a mix of comfort and tension too irresistible to ignore.

Also, if you want to learn more about how to write your entire children’s book, check out my article on “12 Steps to Writing Your Children’s Picture Book“.

3. Good Examples of First Lines

How should you write the first line of your children’s book?

The first sentence matters more than you think. If you start off in the wrong way, you’re not going to keep the child’s attention. You’ve got maybe five seconds to make a good impression, so make it count!

Let’s look at some examples in famous children’s books and see what they do for their first line.

• “The night Max wore his wolf suit…” You might have recognized this one. It’s from “Where the Wild Things Are” by Maurice Sendak. It’s a great way to start a story fast. Boom! A kid in a wolf suit? You’ve got my attention.
• “I know I’m not an ordinary kid.” This is from “We’re All Wonders” by R.J. Palacio. Now, tell me, what kid doesn’t feel that way at some point? It taps into this universal sentiment but also promises an extraordinary tale.
• “A mouse took a stroll through the deep, dark wood.” In”The Gruffalo” by Julia Donaldson, there’s immediate action, a character intro, and the allure of the ‘deep, dark wood’. Kids are already wondering, “What’s going to happen to the mouse?”

Kids are pretty much like adults; they decide if they’re interested within the first few seconds.

So make your first sentence a baited hook.

4. Five Types of First Lines

Alright, you aspiring children’s book authors, buckle up! We’re diving deep into the world of first lines today. What, you thought all first lines were made equal? Think again. There are different types of hooks, and knowing which one to use can make a world of difference. Here’s the lowdown.

1. Meet the Character: Introduce by Name

This is where you straight-up introduce the main character. “This is Olivia. She is good at lots of things,” from “Olivia” by Ian Falconer, is a prime example. From the get-go, kids know Olivia is going to be interesting.

• It’s direct
• It’s simple
• It builds anticipation

This style is particularly effective when your character has a quirky personality that you want to flaunt right from the start.

Be careful about using this introduction, though. It’s probably the most overused way to start a children’s book story, and it’s often better to start in a more original way.

2. Action Opener: Start with a Bang

These types of openers throw readers into a situation or an event, usually one that’s action-packed or tension-filled.

“A told B, and B told C, ‘I’ll meet you at the top of the coconut tree‘” from “Chicka Chicka Boom Boom” is a brilliant case in point.

• It immediately sets the plot into motion
• It offers a taste of the book’s rhythm or tone
• It creates instant intrigue

3. The Question Starter: Create Curiosity

These are openers that pose a question either directly or indirectly. The classic “Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?” literally asks a question as its opening line, instantly engaging the reader.

• It elicits thought
• It invites participation
• It introduces a problem or a mystery

Remember, though, your question has to be one that your story intends to answer, so make it relevant.

4. Scene Setting: Lay Down the Landscape

Sometimes the opening line paints a vivid picture of the story’s setting, like “In the great green room…” from “Goodnight Moon” by Margaret Wise Brown.

• It gives the reader a visual anchor
• It sets the mood
• It often hints at the theme

5. The Emotional Teaser: Tug Those Heartstrings

The first line from “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” by Judith Viorst sets the emotional tone for the entire book:

“I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there’s gum in my hair and when I got out of bed this morning I tripped on the skateboard and by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.”

• It establishes the emotional state of the protagonist
• It often hints at the story’s core conflict
• It invites empathy or other strong feelings

Remember, the purpose of fiction is to make your readers FEEL things. And the terribly horrible day book starts with that dour tone right from the start.

5. Good Strategies

1. Build the Character

Who’s the star of this show? Get to them fast, and make them memorable. Consider Mo Willems’ “Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!” The pigeon is there, pleading his case from the get-go, and kids instantly recognize his zany personality.

1. First Line: A grand entrance is a must.
2. Physical Traits: Briefly describe what they look like.
3. Personality Quirk: Give them a characteristic that makes them special.

Kids are going to relate to characters that are somewhat like them but also have a dash of the extraordinary.

2. Create Clear Stakes

Oh, the drama! Even in a children’s book, the stakes must be clear. In “The Cat in the Hat,” the stakes are simple yet urgent. Will they get the house clean before Mom gets home?

If the reader doesn’t know what’s at risk, they won’t care. Make it simple, make it fast, and for heaven’s sake, make it clear.

The reader should know, maybe by the first page, what will happen if the characters don’t succeed. There should be a consequence if they fail to solve the problem.

3. Show Conflict

Conflict powers every story.

Try to think of a book, any book, where there isn’t conflict. You can’t! It’s the essence of what makes a narrative.

So when you’re writing a children’s book, it’s a great idea to show conflict from the very first line. Don’t delay — make the reader worried right away about the tension in your book.

6. Common Mistakes

Starting with a Cliche

As an editor of more than 1000 children’s books, the most common mistake I see is starting a story with this cliche:

“Once upon a time…”

This is a mistake because most of the time, the story they’re writing isn’t a fairy tale, so they’re signaling the wrong genre to the reader. (if you are writing a fairy tale, read my post on how to do that well!)

But second of all, it’s a phrase that we’ve heard thousands of times before, so you’re not drawing the reader into your unique story, you’re just repeating the way that thousands of other stories have started. Usually, you can do better than this.

Overthinking It: The Paralysis of Perfection

You want that first line to be epic, monumental, the stuff of legends. I get it. But sometimes, in our quest for perfection, we end up with a line that’s convoluted, stuffed to the brim with metaphors and complexity.

Bad Example: “In a universe swirling with cosmic dust and imbued with existential questions, Timmy the Turtle pondered the ineffable nature of his shell.”

• Symptom: Reads like it was written for a college philosophy class.
• Cure: Simplify. How about, “Timmy the Turtle wondered why his shell was so hard.”

The Info Dump: TMI in Record Time

Yes, your world-building is phenomenal, and yes, every detail is a sparkling gem. But throwing it all at the reader in the first line? That’s going to confuse them.

Bad Example: “In the kingdom of Glitterwood, where the trees are made of licorice and the rivers flow with lemonade, Princess Penelope sat on her emerald-encrusted throne.”

• Symptom: More detail than a travel brochure.
• Cure: Keep the focus narrow. “Princess Penelope sat on her throne, missing her old life in Glitterwood.”

Ignoring the Role of Illustrations: Let the Art Speak

Here’s where a lot of writers trip up: they forget that picture books are a marriage of words and art. Your words don’t need to do all the talking; the illustrations have a big role to play.

If you’re describing everything down to the color of the sky and the type of tree, you’re robbing the illustrator of their job. And honestly, you’re wasting precious word count.

Bad Example: “Sarah the Squirrel scampered up the tall, brown oak tree whose branches reached up like arms towards the azure sky.”

• Symptom: Overwriting what the illustration will already show.
• Cure: Let the art do its job. A simple “Sarah the Squirrel scampered up the oak tree” will suffice when paired with the right illustration.

The Non-Starter: Where’s the Beef?

The opposite of the Info Dump, this line is so bland it could be the first line of any book in the universe. You’ve got to have conflict, writers!

Bad Example: “It was a day like any other.”

• Symptom: Vague and interchangeable with any story ever.
• Cure: Make it relevant to your story’s unique angle. “It was the day Timmy found the magic pebble.”

A good technique is to start your sentence with the phrase: “And then one day…” and write what starts your storyline.

Being Too Abstract: The Riddler Strikes

Metaphors and wise sayings are great, but if they’re so abstract that you have to be a cryptographer to figure them out, you’ve gone too far.

Bad Example: “Life is but a fleeting whisper in the grand tapestry of time, thought Billy the Bee.”

• Symptom: Mystifying and dense. Is Billy a bee or a Buddhist monk?
• Cure: Start with a specific problem. “Billy the Bee buzzed around, wondering why there wasn’t much honey in the hive.”

The Slow Crawl: Hurry Up Already!

Children’s picture books are not the place for a slow, drawn-out introduction.

Kids want to jump into the action or get to know the character ASAP. (they’re not amazing at patience — but sometimes we adults aren’t too good either).

Bad Example: “On a sunny and slightly breezy afternoon, where the clouds were a picturesque formation of cumulus fluff and the temperature was neither too hot nor too cold…”

• Symptom: Enough with the weather report!
• Cure: Get to the point. “On a sunny afternoon, Maria found a strange key.”

Test Your First Line

You’ve written that first line. Fantastic!

Now, how do you know it’s any good? Simple: Test it on kids, revise it, and get professional advice if needed. If you’re in doubt, get feedback on your book from folks who know the ins and outs of children’s literature.

Take it to the Next Level

So, you’ve got your first line down. What’s next? Well, if you’re looking to go from amateur to pro, consider investing in a course like “Two Weeks to Your Best Children’s Book”, which can guide you through the rest of the storytelling process.

In a Nutshell

The first line of your children’s book is your handshake with the reader. It’s your one shot at a first impression. Make it count. Different types of openings serve different types of stories. Knowing which one best fits your tale can be the first step in making your story not just readable but unforgettable.

And when you’ve finished writing your entire book, come visit us at Bookfox Press and we can help you with all the nitty-gritty of publishing (from formatting to illustrations to ISBNs).

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