What if?: A Most Important Question

By DP Lyle 

---

Every author has been asked: Where do you get your ideas? The short answer is: Everywhere. Something you see or read germinates an idea, and a story unfolds. Sometimes the story comes together quickly, but most often weeks of building mental scenes and snippets of dialog, setting, and action must be waded through before pen meets paper. 

An overheard conversation might be the spark. Or a couple talking/arguing/laughing at a nearby restaurant table. Maybe an odd character strolling down the street. Perhaps an idea simply pops into your head from wherever those thoughts arise. 

Okay, so you have an idea. Now what? An idea isn’t a story. Ideas are a dime a dozen. They are literally everywhere. The key is to find an idea that can stand up through a 100,000-word manuscript. No small trick.

To do this, the original idea must be refined and fleshed out. An idea can become a scene, but to be a full-length novel it must evolve and expand. It must become a premise, or what many call “The Central Story Question.” It’s what the story is really about.

To become a premise, the original idea must ultimately lead to the question: What if? 

What if this happened? What if that person did this? What if that dude in the shabby clothes was actually a rogue undercover agent with a deadly agenda? What if the restaurant couple was planning a murder? What if that briefcase contained state secrets? Or an explosive device? Or a deadly virus?

From those two words--What if?--stories arise.

The power of your story’s What If? can’t be overestimated. If it is done correctly and not lost in the writing. A good What if? states the main character, the situation, the stakes, and, most importantly, the Central Story Question. 

It is the answering of this question that is the story.

Okay, so our restaurant couple is planning a murder. Who, what, when, where, and, most importantly, why? It’s always the why that makes a great story. Is it to get out of a messy marriage and save all that alimony money, or to cash in that million-dollar insurance policy, or to cover an embezzlement from a company they work for, or to seek revenge for some act? Even though the original idea was a couple planning a murder, each of these scenarios generates a different story. Each will lead your sleuth, who must solve the murder, into a different world.

What if a young couple witnesses a murder and in so doing put themselves in the cross hairs of a transnational criminal organization?

This is the What If? for my latest Cain/Harper thriller, TUNICA. 

The What If? should be stated in about 25 words or less. Because the What If? is brief, it’s often called the elevator pitch or the agent pitch. It communicates your story in the most efficient terms. We’ve all heard writers respond when asked what their story is about by saying things like, “Well, there’s this guy who lives on an island. And he hates the water. And a big shark is killing people and this is threatening to shut down the town’s beaches on a holiday weekend. And then there’s this other guy who is a shark expert and he has a really cool boat. Oh, I forgot, the first guy is the chief of police.” Yawn.

What if a hydrophobic, island-community police chief must go out on the water to kill a predatory shark to save the town’s summer economy and to prove his own self-worth?

What if an FBI trainee must exchange personal information with a sadistic serial killer in order to track another serial killer and save a Senator’s daughter?

What if the youngest son of a mafia family takes revenge on the men who shot his father and becomes the new godfather, losing his own soul in the process?

These are of course Jaws, Silence of the Lambs, and The Godfather, respectively. See how these What If?s reveal the protagonist and cleanly state the story premise? Read these books or watch the movies and you will see that each scene moves toward answering the story’s What If? Each of your scenes should, too. If not, consider cutting, or at least reworking, those that don’t.

Many authors consume weeks creating the What If? for their story. Constantly refining it, making it more on point. You should, too. It’s that important. It concisely states the Central Story Question.

Here’s a tip: When your What If? is completed to your satisfaction, print it out and tape it to your computer or the front of your writing pad so you will see it every time you sit down to write. Before writing each scene, read your What If? and ask yourself, “Does this scene help answer the Central Story Question?” If you do this, you will never lose sight of what your story is about. Particularly in the dreaded middle, where so many stories get lost in the jumble of character and backstory and cool dialog all the other stuff that goes into a manuscript. The What If? keeps you focused and on track.

Writing Fiction, or Non-fiction, Research is Key

By Patrick Kendrick

---

I have been fortunate to have my books published for some sixteen years. Throughout my writing career I have learned that research is THE key to pulling in readers and adding authenticity to your work, even if it is fiction. If you’re doing non-fiction, research is even more paramount. 

With fiction, many writers believe they can write whatever comes to mind, creating strong characters, their environments, backgrounds and whatever plot they wish to follow. But if you’re writing historical fiction, it is a must that you follow, or get as close to, following what was happening at the specific time in history you are writing about. 

My newest book, Edison’s Last Breath, a historical mystery that involves several real-life characters, such as Henry Ford, Charles Lindbergh, Josephine Baker, and Ernest Heminway (once again from my first book, Papa’s Problem). My primary character, Emmet MacWain meets these people when there is a murder at Henry Ford’s winter home in Ft. Myers, Florida. I was inspired to write about Josephine Baker as it was revealed that she was not only the biggest entertainer of her time, but that she was also a spy for the French resistance. 

As with Papa’s Problem, in which Hemingway is a murder suspect, I found that I could not just write what I knew from lore. Libraries, particularly those that exist where the character lived—Hemingway in the earlier book, and Ford and Baker in the present book—are useful as they may house personal letters and documents from the real-life character. In Edison’s Last Breath, I had the opportunity to go to the Ford and Edison estates in Ft. Myers, Florida, where, to my astonishment, I found a corked test tube, with an accompanying note read, “This tube contains Thomas Edison’s Last Breath.” Hence the title of my book, Edison’s Last Breath.

Initially I thought it was some sort of hoax, but as I researched the odd item, I found out that, as he was dying, Edison, a close friend and mentor to Henry Ford, would try to save what he thought was his last breath for his friend, Ford. Charles Edison, the son of Thomas, stayed with his father while he was in his death bed. Each time he thought his father was exhaling his last breath, he would try to capture it. I did not make this up! 

I was bowled over by this fact, and my novel took a new direction that took us to many places, including Josphine Baker’s chateau in France, where I found out even more about this heroic woman who spied for the French. She was so good at entertaining people, that German officers who suspected she was a spy would go to her home with intent to find some evidence, for which they might arrest her. But Josphine was so clever and such a dynamic performer, she would charm the soldiers with wine, dinner and a personal show, and the Nazis would forget what they came for. Baker was one of the bravest spies ever.

That was the cool thing I found out. The not-so-cool thing I found out as well, was that both Ford and Lindbergh were antisemitic, Nazi supporters.  Lindbergh was gifted a plane by the furor himself and had several mistresses in Germany, while Ford had contracts with the Germans to make trucks for their Army during our country’s war with them. Lindbergh was awarded the Serve Cross of the Order of the German Eagle, while Ford was awarded the Grand Cross of the German Eagle.

Working on my previous book (for some 20 years) “American Ripper: The Enigma of America’s Serial Killer Cop,” I had to do much more, shall we say hazardous research, such as visiting the serial killer, Gerard Schaefer, in jail. Schaefer was convicted of two murders but was believed to have committed dozens more. He typically killed two girls at a time, often picking them up in his patrol car as they were hitch-hiking. 

I spent many years writing this story because of its true nature and because so many people had to be interviewed: police who worked with Schaefer and investigated his murders, the lawyers who prosecuted him as well as his public defender, surviving family members, the killer’s mother, and many police officers in numerous states, who I still hear from, when they find another body. Just last year, I was called by a police officer who was investigating cold cases. They had found a body, a teenage girl back 1972 in a mangrove-covered area where Schaefer used to take his victims. She was never identified until an officer from Palm Beach County Sheriff’s office took over the cold cases. 

The victim was found with wire tied in knots around her hands and feet. She was skeletonized but the wire knots were still intact. Many police officers know who I am from my research and my book, so he called me and asked if I has any pictures from Schaefer’s crime scenes. I had copies made years ago from the evidence files (though I chose not to use them in my book for the sake of the families who lost their children). The cold case cop sent me the pictures they took of the knotted wire, and they matched knots that Schaefer utilized on his victims. So now that had a connection between Schaefer and the victim, Karen Poole. We also found that Schaefer used to live just around the corner from the victim.

So, research—good, intense research—can add reality to your fiction novel, or the stark truth in a non-fiction book on true crime.

Partners in Crime (Writing)

By Tilia Klebenov Jacobs

---

---

When I tell fellow authors I have a writing partner, I generally get one of two responses. The most common is a shock, rather as if I had casually mentioned that I prefer to eat bananas with the peel on. The second, though less frequent, is a cry of recognition: “Me too!” they exclaim. “Of course, you need to know each other really well first, and it’s essential that you work the same way. Couldn’t have a plotter working with a pantser, haha!”

Well, not necessarily. Allow me to lift the veil.

My partner Norman and I knew each other slightly in college, where he was editor of the campus newspaper that I wrote one article for. After college, I published a few novels, and he published a pile of short works in publications that turned me down. A few decades later we were nominally in touch on Facebook, but never spoke or met.

Then Covid hit. Writing at home with everyone under the same roof 24/7 stunk. I wasn’t good at it. While I was trying—really trying!—to write a story for a teacher friend of mine to share with her students, Norman contacted me on Facebook Messenger to ask if I knew of any writers’ groups for short stories. I didn’t, but after we’d texted for a bit about fiction, families, and more, I asked if he wanted to write together. He did. We hammered out the story for my friend and her students, and then got cracking on a novel. During that deeply unnerving time, it was marvelous to have someone to be accountable for: like having a gym buddy, but for words. 

In our experience—your mileage may vary—partners don’t necessarily need to know each other well, because we certainly didn’t. Nor do you need to have identical work styles: Norman is a pantser, and I am a blackbelt plotter (He’s adjusting nicely.) Instead, our partnership was a process of getting to know each other while adapting to one another’s approaches, and accepting that our skill sets didn’t need to be identical as long as they were complementary.

That being said, writing partners need to have a few things in common. The first, not surprisingly, is a work ethic. We take our projects seriously, showing up for meetings and producing whatever we jointly agree upon. 

The second is a sense of humor. Each of us had our characters do and say things that the other found hilarious. If you don’t share a funny bone, you see the world differently.

Finally, partners need a mutual vision of the project, including an agreed-upon-conclusion. If you’re working on a joint project but one of you is writing a noir detective story and the other has embarked upon a musical rom-com set in San Juan Capistrano on the day the swallows return, the mission is doomed.

(In the not-mandatory-but-useful category, we found it’s very helpful to have families that are at about the same stage. I can’t tell you how many times I texted Norman to say, “I’ll be late for the meeting—turns out I have kids.”)

Above all else, listen to what the story has to say to you. Our novel took us in some unexpected directions, but we respected it and each other enough to see where it led us. Sometimes the art knows more than the artist. Add a steady drip of mutual respect, and you can garner results that outstrip anything either of you could have pulled off alone. 

Sometimes the whole really is greater than the sum of its parts.

---

Till Klebenov Jacobs is a crime writer based in New England. Her latest book is Stealing Time.

Ten Medical and Forensic Mistakes Writers Should Never Make

By D. P. Lyle, MD

---

Writers make mistakes. An anachronism here, a blunder in logic there, departures from common sense everywhere, and of course the all-too-common break from real world possibilities that plagues even the most well-written story. It’s part of the process. Sitting alone, bouncing clever ideas off your computer screen offers little feedback. But readers notice such breaches. They shake their heads, close the book, snuff out the light, and go to sleep. Not the ringing endorsement you wished for. Here are some of the most common medical and forensic mistakes writers make. Mistakes you want to avoid.

The Quick Death: Death rarely arrives instantly. Sure, it can occur with heart attacks, strokes, and extremely abnormal heart rhythms, but trauma, such as gunshot wounds and blows to the head, the staples of crime fiction, rarely cause sudden death. Yet, how often has a single shot felled a villain? Bang, and he drops dead. In order for that to occur, the bullet would need to severely damage the brain, the heart, or the cervical (neck) portion of the spinal cord. A shot to the chest or abdomen leads to screaming and moaning and bleeding and expletives, but death comes from bleeding and that takes time. How long? It depends on what’s damaged. If a major artery is opened, the bleeding is brisk and death can follow in five minutes, even less. If the bullet or knife blade only strikes tissues and organs, the bleeding is slower and death can take many minutes, or hours, or not at all.

The Pretty Death: I call this the “Hollywood Death.” Calm, peaceful, and not a hair out of place. Blood? Almost never. Except in slasher movies of course and here massive bleeding is the norm. More often, the deceased is nicely dressed, lying in bed, make-up perfect, and with a slight flutter of the eyelids if you look closely. Real dead people are not pretty. I don’t care what they looked like during life, in death they are pale, waxy, and gray. Their eyes do not flutter, and they do not look relaxed and peaceful. They look dead.

The Bleeding Corpse: Your detective arrives at the scene a half hour after the murder. Blood oozes from the corpse’s mouth, from the stab wound in his chest, or from the vampire fang marks on his neck. Houston, we have a problem. You see, dead folks don’t bleed. When you die, your heart stops, and the blood no longer circulates. Rather, it stagnates and clots and stagnant and clotted blood does not move. It does not drip or gush or ooze or gurgle or flow or trickle from the body. It lies there, separates into a dark red clot with a halo of straw-colored serum, and then dries to a brownish stain.

The Accurate Time of Death: Determining the time of death is neither easy nor very accurate. It’s always a best guess and is always stated as a range rather than an exact time. Yet, how many times have you seen the medical examiner (ME) confidently announce that the victim died at “8:30 last night”? I always wondered exactly how he made this determination. Was it rigor mortis, body temperature, or lividity? Was it the presence or absence of certain bugs? The truth is that none of these is accurate. The decline in body temperature, the appearance of rigor, the development of lividity, and the appearance of flies and bugs are affected by many variables so are mostly unpredictable. The touted guidelines for each of these are like stop signs in Italy--merely suggestions. In real-life, the ME would say that death likely occurred “between 8 p.m. and midnight.” But that might make him appear wishy-washy, and Hollywood and writers like their heroes to be smart. Smarter than they could possibly be. Stick with a range, and you’ll be more realistic.

The One-punch Knockout: You’ve seen this a million times. One character socks another character in the jaw. He goes down like a sack of potatoes and is apparently written out of the story since we never hear from him again. Really? Think about a boxing match. Two guys that are trained to inflict damage and they have trouble knocking each other out. And when they do, the one on his back is up in a couple of minutes, claiming the other guy caught him with a lucky punch. Listen to me. Only James Bond can knock someone out with a single blow, and maybe Mike Tyson, but your car-salesman-turned-amateur-sleuth cannot.

Another common scenario is when a character is hit in the head, placed in the trunk of car, driven 50 miles, tied to a post or a bed or whatever, and then a bucket of water is thrown in his face to revive him. He sputters and is suddenly wake and alert. Not going to happen. If someone is knocked unconscious and doesn’t come around in a few minutes, something very bad is going on. Like a brain bruise (cerebral contusion) or bleeding into or around the brain (subdural hematoma). These require a hospital and a neurosurgeon, not a bucket of water.

The Disappearing Black Eye: If your character suffers a black eye in Chapter 3, she will have it for two weeks, which depending on the time frame of your story just might take you to the end of the book. She will not be “normal” in two days. A black eye is a contusion (bruise) and is caused by blood leaking from tiny blood vessels that are injured by the blow. It takes the body about two weeks to clear all that blood from the tissues. It will darken over two days, fade over four or five, turn greenish, brownish, and a sickly yellow before it disappears. On a good note, by about day seven, she might be able to hide it with make-up.

The Quick Healing: Do you know why boxers wear gloves? To protect their hands and faces. Back in the bare-knuckle days, broken hands and cut and bloody faces were the norm. Gloves made the sport more civilized. So, if your character gets in a fist fight both he and his opponent will suffer cuts and bruises and broken teeth. He will not walk away unscathed. His cuts will need stitches, his bruises ice, and a trip to the dentist is likely. Each of these will take a couple of weeks to heal.

If your character falls down the stairs and injures his back, he will not be able to run from or chase the bad guy or make love to his new lover the next day. Give the guy a few days to heal and make him limp and complain in the interim. If he breaks an arm, he’ll need four weeks minimum.

If he’s stabbed or shot and, as so many protagonists do, sneaks out of the hospital the next day to continue his pursuit of the bad guys, all will not be forgiven. He will have pain that will limit his ability to run and jump and fight and do all those hero things. The chances that his wound could then become infected are real and would greatly complicate his situation and might even kill him.

If his car goes over an embankment and tumbles into a ravine, he will not simply crawl out and walk away. At best he’ll be banged and bruised and at worst will have broken bones and injured internal organs. 

The Instant Athlete: Your PI drinks too much, smokes two packs a day, and eats fast food on a regular basis. After all, stake outs are boring. His belly flaps over his belt and he gets short of breath climbing a single flight of stairs. He will not be able to chase the villain for ten blocks. Two on a good day. 

If you create a scene where your character must run down a bad guy, make him capable of such a pursuit. Remember “Babe” Levy (Dustin Hoffman) in Marathon Man? He was student, slight of build, not athletic appearing in the least, yet he had to run for his life as Dr. Christian Szell (Sir Laurence Olivier) and his Nazi thugs chased him endlessly. But he was capable. Earlier in the film we learned that he was distance runner and ran around the reservoir in Central Park everyday. He could run for his life.

The Untraceable Poison: Of all the questions I receive from writers this is number one. Seems that all crime writers want an untraceable poison. Sorry, no such thing. True it might not be found or maybe not even searched for, but if it is looked for and if the ME has good blood or tissue samples, he will find it. With fancy equipment like Gas Chromatography-Mass Spectroscopy (GS-MS) virtually any chemical can be identified. This combination gives a “chemical fingerprint” of the compound in question. 

The most common drugs involved in overdose deaths are alcohol, narcotics, amphetamines, cocaine, and various tranquilizers and sedatives. The main reason is that these are readily available either on the street or in the medicine cabinet. Each of these is revealed by a simple and cheap drug screen. So, if your killer employs one of these, the ME will know it in a couple of hours.

But what if the toxin is more exotic? Maybe cyanide or thallium or the toxin of a blue-ringed octopus? This is trickier. These don’t show up on routine drug screens and must be tested for with time-consuming and expensive protocols. Maybe the ME doesn’t have the time, interest, or budget to do a full toxicological examination. Maybe he simply attributes the death to some natural cause and saves the county a ton of money. Happens all the time and it can happen in your story. But, if he pulls out all the stops, he will find the drug.

The Instant Lab Result: The world is not like CSI. Not even close. Those CSI folks get results in a New York minute. Sometimes faster. They crack computers, perform autopsies, complete esoteric toxicological testing, and create DNA profiles before the first commercial break. In the real world such testing typically takes days, even weeks. Sure a tox screen can be done in a couple of hours but sophisticated confirmatory testing takes time. DNA profiling can be done in a few hours, but before the ME reports his results he will often obtain confirmation from another lab, particularly in high-profile cases, including those that crime writers dream up. Give your ME a realistic timeframe to do his work. Your readers will notice if you don’t.

The devil is always in the details. Get these details right and your story will be much stronger.

D. P. Lyle

Outliers Writing University: https://www.outlierswritinguniversity.com

The Importance of Honest Feedback

By Judy Penz Sheluk

---

Writing is a solitary pursuit, one where we spend countless hours of our lives, often laboring over a single sentence or paragraph for more time than most of us care to admit. So, it’s only natural that we become protective of our words. After all, something that took hours to perfect must be, well, perfect, right?

If only that were so. Unfortunately, as writers, we are simply too close to our work to see the flaws. Oh, we may find the typo on page 75 on reread, the one where we’ve called a car a cat (though even that is iffy), but the overuse of a favorite trope, phrase, or gesture (my characters love to nod). Maybe not so much. And that’s why we need feedback.

Feedback comes in many forms and at various stages of the writing process. The most important thing to remember is that you are looking for an honest and unbiased evaluation of your work. You may not agree with every comment or suggestion, but you should at least consider each one without becoming defensive. Consider it “thick skin” training for the rejections you’re almost certain to face going forward. 

Let’s look at some options:

Writing Critique Groups

While there are no hard and fast rules, these work best if the group is small—three to five people—allowing each member time to read and respond without becoming overwhelmed. It’s essential to establish parameters from the get-go, such as weekly word count limits and the type of feedback expected. 

While critique groups can be invaluable for some writers, they should never be the final step in the review process. As you become immersed in your work for months on end, you lose objectivity. Those intimately familiar with your work will too.

Alpha Readers

Readers who provide detailed and constructive feedback, both positive and tactfully critical, about your book’s premise, plot, characters, and other elements. This is the place to include readers who have knowledge of the technical elements in your manuscript. 

Whether you choose to hire a professional, or ask a trusted friend or relative, they should be aware that they are commenting on an unpolished (first) draft. They should also be avid readers of your book’s genre or sub-genre. Consider this the first test drive of your overall story from a reader’s perspective. 

Beta Readers

Beta readers (or betas) critique finished manuscripts before they are published. It’s advisable to have betas who are familiar with your genre/sub-genre. Betas can be friends, family members, teachers, members of online writing groups, or other writers willing to do a manuscript swap. This will help identify the finer points of your book that may need an adjustment. Ideally, you’ll have no fewer than two and no more than five, allowing for a comparison of opinions without the risk of opinion overload. If one beta reader doesn’t understand why your protagonist hates red, that might be a point worth clarifying. If two or more betas don’t get it, it’s a must-fix. 

While betas are an excellent way to obtain (often free) feedback, they do not replace the role of a professional editor. There is one school of thought that because traditional publishers pay for editing, there is no need for authors to incur this expense if their intention is to traditionally publish. 

Let’s look at that statement. Is it true that traditional publishers hire and pay for editing services? Yes. However, it’s equally true that agents and publishers receive thousands of submissions from aspiring authors every year. While there are no guarantees, a professionally edited manuscript may increase the odds of acceptance. 

Developmental Editing

Also known as substantive or content editing, developmental editing is the first step, focusing on big picture story elements. The developmental editor will also assess and shape draft material to improve flow and organization by revising or reordering content and clarifying plot, arc of action, characters, and/or thematic elements.

Line Editing

Also known as stylistic editing, the line editor focuses on coherence and flow, eliminating jargon, clichés, and euphemisms, while adjusting the length and structure of sentences and paragraphs, and establishing or maintaining the overall mood, style, or voice.

Copyediting

Ideally combined with line editing, the copy editor checks spelling, grammar, punctuation, and usage, and ensures consistency in character names, places, descriptions, and other details. Copy editing also covers fact checking and/or obtaining or listing permissions needed (e.g., use of song lyrics or trademarked products). The copy editor may create or work from a style sheet.

And there you have it, feedback in a nutshell. Now all you need to do is write that book. Hey, if it were easy, everyone would do it.

---

About the author: A former journalist and magazine editor, Judy Penz Sheluk is the bestselling author of two mystery series: The Glass Dolphin Mysteries and Marketville Mysteries. Her short crime fiction appears in several collections, including the Superior Shores Anthologies, which she also edited.

Judy has also written two how-to guides to publishing. Finding Your Path to Publication: A Step-by-Step Guide was the Winner of the 2024 Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Best Nonfiction. The follow-up to that book, Self-publishing: The Ins & Outs of Going Indie, provides an insider’s insight into the world of self-publishing. 

Judy is a member of Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, the Short Mystery Fiction Society, and Crime Writers of Canada, where she served on the Board of Directors, most recently as Chair.

The Writer’s Playbook: Interview Your Characters

By Steven Harms

---

To start, calculators down.

Now answer the following:
What is three times three?
Ten times seven?
Nine times two?
And, to finish this little exercise, what is eighty-five times forty-six? Take your time.

Hopefully you nailed the final answer. You may be asking what this has to do with being an author? Read on.

In the spring of 1985, I was two years into my first job at the Detroit Pistons. Around that same time, in my hometown of Milwaukee, Wisconsin something occurred that got my attention. The Milwaukee Bucks of the NBA had recently been purchased by Herb Kohl – I’ll get to him in a moment – and I felt the opportunity to return home was worth an inquiry. New ownership of a pro team generally comes with a slate of changes on the business side to align with a new owner’s vision and desire for how they want the place to operate. I wasn’t wrong. I sent a letter of inquiry to the president of business operations of the Milwaukee Bucks, not expecting a reply.

Two weeks later I received a call from John Steinmiller, introducing himself and asking that I come to Milwaukee for an interview. The role was a new position, and the person they were seeking would be responsible for building the sales team and crafting the external sales strategy.

I was flown in the following week and met with John. Our discussion went well, and I was excited to put it mildly. The opportunity would advance my career to the next level. As John wrapped our interview, he informed me that the new owner, Herb Kohl, would also like to meet with me one-on-one.

Who’s Herb Kohl? Perhaps you’ve shopped at Kohl’s. That was Herb’s family business, begun by his father in 1924. Kohl’s began as a grocery chain in the Milwaukee area before adding department stores beginning in 1962, eventually selling it all off in 1979. Herb Kohl purchased the Bucks in 1985 to prevent the team from exiting Milwaukee, in line with his community mindedness, which eventually led to him becoming a U.S. Senator, representing Wisconsin for twenty-four years. That’s the man I now sat across from in his spacious office at a top floor of Milwaukee’s tallest building.

The interview with him was straightforward – my background, schooling, sales experience with the Detroit Pistons, family, goals, and a few other traditional interview topics. Herb was a soft-spoken person, palpably gracious, and he made me comfortable as we chatted. Somewhere amid that interview, completely out of the blue, he asked me that final math question at the top of this article. Stone cold. No pivot. I can’t recall the exact digits, but you get the idea. To this day, I remember Herb said, “Take your time.” It was a jolt. I recall thinking that I was about to blow the interview and wouldn’t get the job. But I figured out quickly how to process the problem and answered it correctly. He then tossed me two more of similar nature. I passed all three. In the end, I landed the job.

My length of service with the Bucks lasted four years before I moved to New York City for my next opportunity. In hindsight, I wish I had taken a moment during my time with the Bucks to ask Herb why he threw those math problems at me. I’m convinced he did so to see how I process information and how I manage myself in a stressful situation. I just never asked. I think I know the answer, at least in part, which aligns with the task we have in creating our characters and developing them.  

Every good author understands that characters tell the author what to write, not the other way around. We’re responsible for bringing the people in our stories to life, intently listening to each, being thoughtful of their backstory, and abiding by who they are as a character. Their dialogue and actions drive the plot. How those are handled by an author is critical to maintaining a compelling, authentic story.

But what happens when a scene or chapter or subplot just won’t materialize, better known as writer’s block? All authors experience that moment, some less than others, but it’s unavoidable. It will happen, probably multiple times in the process of producing a manuscript. Successfully dealing with the problem opens the door to kickstart the interrupted creative process. There are many methods, but taking a cue from Herb Kohl, consider copying his technique.

Have a conversation with the characters on what they’re thinking. Throw them a wildly incongruent question of fact or importance that is unconnected to the story and see how they respond. If their answer misses the mark, that’s alright. Now you know. If they arrive at a plausible, reasonable answer, now you know that as well. If they hem and haw and sweat, tell them to take their time and only move on after they’ve answered. That’s also informative. You now perceive facets of them you hadn’t known, which may be a key ingredient in unblocking yourself and taking your story to a higher level.

Next time you’re at a Kohl’s, or drive by one, or see one of their advertisements, think back to this article and consider the “Kohl method” of interviewing a character(s) to handle current or future writing blocks. He or she may be able to figure out the “math question” you pose. Or maybe not. Either way their strengths, weaknesses, make-up, countenance, and other previously unrevealed attributes will come to the fore.

Just one rule, though. No calculators allowed.

The Art of Paragraphing

By Melissa Koslin

---

I have read many, many books on writing craft, but I rarely see much about one of the most basic aspects of writing.

Paragraphing.

See what I did there? By making that one word its own paragraph, I called it out. Gave it more attention. Drew your eye to it.

As writers, our main job is to create a world in the reader’s mind, a world and people that seem real to us, so real that we will lose sleep to find out what happens to them. But there are other visual aspects to writing that are not in our imagination. Publishers put a lot of thought into the layout of the book—the font, how the beginning of a chapter is designed, the page headings, etc. And I think we all agree, these literal visual aspects are important. They make the book look and feel professional, and they stay out of the way—if they bring too much attention to themselves, they’ve been done wrong. Paragraphing is similar in that it’s not often noticed consciously by the reader. But it does have a subconscious affect.

Ever flip through a book, see huge blocks of text, and put it back on the shelf? Those books feel heavy, feel like they’ll be a slog to get through. Not exactly how writers want their fiction stories to be perceived.

Know why people are attracted to dialogue in books? Why it makes it feel like a faster pace? Part of that is due to paragraphing. Most conversation is a sentence or two, or even a single word, back and forth between two or more characters, and each time a different character talks, it’s a new paragraph. Of course, there are some books where it’s more of a soliloquy than a conversation—this is dialogue gone bad. No one wants to listen to a speech. Pretty much ever. 

You can accomplish this feeling of a faster pace without dialogue, if done properly. This is especially true in action scenes. I’m a suspense writer, with a focus on fight scenes, so I write a lot of action. Here’s an excerpt from my upcoming book The Lost Library. Notice how short the paragraphs are and how it creates a sense of quickened pace and intensity.

“I don’t think so.” She backed away, keeping her gaze on him and peripherally watching everything else around her.

He lunged and grabbed her bag.

Cali glared. “Back off.”

He yanked at her bag, but she had it slung across her body—exactly for this type of circumstance. As he yanked, he pulled her off balance, but she took a step and strengthened her stance, all while continuing to glare at him.

He raised a hand to slap her, but she blocked. Then she used both hands to shove him away.

A curse slurred from his lips.

He shifted, and she thought he was going to leave, but he came at her.

She blocked a punch and threw a kick at his groin. But she didn’t quite connect the kick—his legs were too close together.

As she was pulling her leg back to the ground, he swung his fist again. This time, it connected with her cheek.

Rage filled her like boiling water. She attacked with an elbow across his chin. And then the other elbow, and a kick to the groin. This time, her foot connected.

He stumbled back and fell.

She ran.

She felt guilty for not calling the police and pressing charges, making sure he didn’t try mugging someone else. But she couldn’t take the risk. Invisibility was her best defense.

However, paragraphing needs to be appropriate for the scene. Let’s say the characters are having a deep conversation. In these circumstances, longer paragraphs are often called for. Though we can’t let them get too long, or it starts to feel like boring blathering. What I like to do is throw in an occasional one-word paragraph, or maybe a short phrase. This draws attention and intensifies that one word. Even more so than in fight scenes because that one word is juxtaposed by longer paragraphs. Of course, we can’t randomly do this, so we need to keep an eye out for opportunities that feel organic, that intensify the emotion.

As writers, we have many tools at our disposal to make the reader see what we want them to see and feel what we want them to feel, and the best tools are the ones of which the reader isn’t even aware.

---

Melissa Koslin is a fourth-degree black belt in and certified instructor of traditional Taekwondo. In her day job as a commercial property manager, she secretly notes personal quirks and funny situations, ready to tweak them into colorful additions for her books. She and Corey, her husband of twenty-five years, and their young daughter live in Yulee, Florida, where they do their best not to melt in the sun. Find more information on her books at MelissaKoslin.com.