Blog

Originally published on Storybildr May 21, 2021

One of the marvelous things about being a writer is the ability to tell any story, set anywhere. However, when you create characters and writing settings that don’t approximate your lived experience, there is potential danger that you may appropriate or misrepresent someone else’s culture and life.

Whether maliciously or accidentally, we can sometimes perpetuate harmful biases in our writing, and the best way to remedy that is by working with a Sensitivity Reader.

What does a Sensitivity Reader do? 

This is someone who helps you shape representations of their religion/ethnicity/culture/sexuality/gender/traumas/lived experiences in your story, so that they’re honest, authentic, and non-harmful.

Of course, a single sensitivity reader cannot stand in for every person in their community—they are not monolith—but they can help direct you away from choices that are insensitive, harmful, and biased.

For example, I was the SR on a YA novel. I was able to give feedback on queer youth spaces, and the representation of bisexuality, being bi and having been out-ish in my late teens myself. And I’m glad I did, because there was a single line in the novel about bi people being “greedy sluts who can’t make up their minds.” This is a terribly harmful stereotype, which reinforces to all sorts of biphobia and discrimination in both the straight and queer communities. I mentioned this to the author, and she took it out.

But an SR doesn’t just exist to tell you to take stuff out. They can help you craft a better version of something to stay in. Or they might teach you about an aspect of their culture or life that you can use in the novel in that will improve the plot, or allow your work to expand in ways you didn’t expect.

When should I get an Sensitivity Reader? 

A sensitivity reader is someone you bring in either at the start of the writing process (while you’re outlining and planning), or after you’ve finished a first draft of your book, or both.

I recommend researching sensitivity readers and/or their community the moment you conceive of the character or situation that requires it. Before you even put pen to page, take some time to read articles and blog posts about that community so that when you’re planning your outline or pantsing your chapters, you’re doing so already armed with a solid foundation of understanding.

This may be as simple as—for example—me reaching out to a male Black friend of Caribbean decent and saying, “Hey friend; I’m thinking of adding a supporting character to this novel with the same background as you. He’ll be doing Z, Y, and Z in the plot. Any representation pitfalls I should avoid?”

Once you have a draft of the novel, you should be finding an sensitivity reader to read it before you put too much other work into it, so you can make sure that cornerstone is stable before you build your revisions.

How much do I share with my Sensitivity Reader?

Depending on how much the character shows up in the book, sometimes you just need to share their scenes or chapters, and sometimes you need to share the whole manuscript. It really all depends on the book and how you feel.

How do I find an Sensitivity Reader? 

• Your agent, editor or publisher may have suggestions for you, especially if they’ve worked with an sensitivity reader in the same community before
• Research and contact your local group—something like PFLAG if you’re looking for queer rep, or a grief support network if you’re looking for people who have experienced a specific trauma, etc. And be respectful when you approach them. Ask, don’t demand, and don’t outright state any information that may be triggering without warning first.
• Check out social media. There are lots of readers out there who have identifying info in their bios, or whole websites/groups dedicated to providing contact info for SRs of different stripes.
• Ask fellow authors who have also featured this community/identity in their novels who their SR was.
• Some sensitivity readers charge for their services, and some don’t.

And remember to list your Sensitivity Reader in your acknowledgements! They absolutely deserve the gratitude for their generosity and guidance!

Originally published on Storybilder on October 8, 2021

Working as a sensitivity reader or a beta reader for a writer friend is one of the greatest joys of being part of the writing community. You get to read a new story before anyone else and you have the privilege of helping your writer friend turn their just-pulled-from-the-cave-wall stone into a highly polished, beautifully cut, sparkling diamond.

Obviously there are no hard-and-fast rules about what you should and should not be doing as a critique partner (beyond Wheaton’s Law). You and your author will find your own communication style and rhythm, as well as levels of honesty and helpfulness that you’re both comfortable with. However, the whole point of stepping up as a critique partner is to support your writer friend and help them make the book they’ve written the best version of itself that it can be.

Sometimes this means you have to point out flaws, but it also means that you should be pointing out the stuff that’s good, that really works for you, and connects with you emotionally as a reader. Writers need to know not just what needs to change, but also what needs to stay the same.

Here are some tips based on what I like best in my critique relationships:

• Set your Word/Google doc to Editing Suggestions—don’t just change stuff without explicit permission.
• Use comments to point out inconsistencies and places where the story/info contradicts. It really helps to have pinpointed moments where things need improvement.
• Keep notes in a separate document of times when the story just wasn’t working or you were confused. When you’ve finished the whole novel, go back and review to see if those moments were because you just didn’t have all the info/grand reveals you needed to know at that stage of the book, and if they’ve been resolved now that you’ve read all of it, or if they’re because of the structure of the plot/character arc/writing itself, and need fixing.
• Don’t just focus on the stuff that needs fixing, removal, or has to change. Nobody likes to be made to feel that they’re an utter failure. I love it when my beta reader highlights something and just leaves a happy face or a heart emoji, or explains why a specific scene really moved them. Not only does it make me feel good as a writer, it also ensures that I keep those moments that made them excited, and they don’t get slashed in edits.
• Set up a time for a face-to-face conversation about the story once you’ve finished the whole thing, so you and the writer can discuss how the story worked for you. It’s helpful to take the time to really chew through it together.
• Talk about the broad “feeling” of the book, and what emotions it made you experience. But also pinpoint exact moments where that emotion and feeling really worked and where it really didn’t.
• Ask your author if they’re up for suggestions on how to fix the plot hole/character issue/etc. before suggesting something. Don’t forget, this is their story, not yours.
• That said, do offer possible solutions to issues you point out where you’re asked for them. Sometimes your suggestions may propel the writer toward a great solution. “I don’t know, it just didn’t work,” isn’t a very helpful answer.
• Ask yourself if something isn’t working for you because it’s genuinely not working or just because you don’t like it. If it’s the latter, consider that you might not be the right critique partner for this particular book if you’re not into it. For example: I really just dislike space opera, so if a writer friend asked me to beta one, I’d decline because I know I wouldn’t be a good match for the project.

If you remember the golden rule about treating writer friends the way you want to be treated when it’s your turn for critiques, and remember to highlight both the delightful and the disastrous, it will be a pleasant experience for everyone!

Originally Posted to Storybildr on  January 30, 2022

Now that you’ve figured out what kind of subplot you’ll be writing, and who will be the star and/or narrator of it, let’s look at the technical aspects of how to integrate your subplot(s) into the structure of your main plot. The methods I’m going to highlight here are by no means the only way to do it, but they are the most popular.

Pendulum

Alternating between two or more points of view (POV) in large sections across a shared narrative is one of the easiest ways to insert a subplot. Generally this is done by dedicating one chapter to one character’s POV, and then switching to another POV in the next chapter. The switch can also happen mid-chapter, after a scene is described from one POV, and then (after a scene break), the narrative picks up with another perspective. The assumption here is that both narrating characters are participating in the same plot points and scenes together, possibly offering competing interpretations of events or filling in details missing from one perspective through the other.

Be wary of accidentally head-hopping while doing this. Never swap from one POV to another without some sort of visual indication that you’ve done so on the page. Switching narrators pr POV mid-scene, or even mid-paragraph is confusing for the reader.

Parallel

Like with a Pendulum Subplot, Parallel Subplots alternate between the POVs of two or more characters. However, in this case, these characters are rarely involved in the same scenes or plot points together. Their narratives are separate but running alongside one another, informing one another without the characters interacting, until they finally merge together like a multi-highway interchange when required by the plot.

Weaving

If you prefer to stick to one POV, you can still weave different moments and references to different subplots into your narrative, like coloured reeds in a basket. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, this is most easily done when each scene furthers more than one plot or character arc and your clues and references and explanations are woven into your scene organically and naturally. Weaving works best when all the subplots are very closely tied with the main plot and are experienced simultaneously by the main character.

Sandwich

Sandwich subplots are pretty much the opposite of Weaving. In this case, you separate out the different subplots, stick one chunk of a subplot at the front of the book in a prologue, and place another chunk at the end in an epilogue. This technique can be used for multiple POVs, or a single one.

Consecutive

In this method, you’ll focus on one set of characters with their own subplot and POV, and then shift to a different set of characters, with their separate subplot and POV. Eventually the plots come together and resolve as one in the end. Consecutive Subplots are similar to Parallel Subplots, but in this version you don’t alternate back and forth between the POVs. Instead, you drop everything relating to the first plot all at once, and once you’ve reached the end of that plotline, you start back at the beginning and start again, this time following the second plot to its natural end.

A good example of this method is The Two Towers, by J. R. R. Tolkien. If you’ve read the book, you know that after the Fellowship splits up, the novel follows Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn separately from Frodo, Sam and Gollum, and then separate again from Merry, Pippin and Gandalf. If you watch the film adaptation, however, you’ll see how skillfully Jackson, Walsh and Boyens turned that same narrative into a Parallel Subplot Structure.

No matter what method you chose to use, make sure above all that you resolve each separate storyline satisfactorily and tie them together at the end of the novel, if it’s appropriate. Subplots should always tie-into, support, and expand the main plot.

Activity

Pick a favorite children’s story, folk-, or fairy tale. Consider the story from the villain’s POV. Now, map out the story with the villain’s story as a subplot, using each of the methods listed above. How does the story or focus change when you present it as a Parallel Subplot vs a Consecutive one? How do your main plot objectives change when the villain’s version is woven in? Do you think of the story differently when it is sandwiched inside the villain’s version? Play around with different options to see where they offer opportunities to explore your main plot in new ways.

*

Have a question about the craft of business of being a writer? Ask it here, and I’ll answer in a new Words for Writers article!

Originally Posted to Storybildr on January 18, 2022

This post is the fourth in a series on subplots.

As you’re developing your secondary plot, you’ll need to start thinking about who is going to carry it. Some subplots continue to feature, or may be told from, the point of view of your main character. Other subplots may focus instead on a minor or secondary character, who guides the reader through this second storyline.

It’s tempting to spend all of your energy on developing a really rich main character while going light on secondary characters, but you should consider putting as much initial thought into your main character’s friends, family members, and enemies as you do with them.

(Besides, we all know that really great side-characters are everyone’s favourite in novels, anyway. Sure, we like Harry Potter, but Ron, Hermione, and Draco are the ones people name when you ask them who their fave is.)

The Hero of Their Own Story

Everybody is the protagonist of their own story, even fictional characters you’ve made up to support another protagonist. Secondary characters are fully fleshed out people too, who don’t just exist as props to be used in the main character’s story, even if the reader never sees it. In their own heads, they’re as interesting, varied, and deep as anyone else, so do them a favor and write them accordingly.

Develop your secondary characters with as much personality and detailed preferences as you would your main character. Have a good think about their goals, fears, and obstacles. Figure out how they take their coffee and why, or flesh out personality details such as how they’re like or unlike their star sign, what their favourite kind of music is, if they have any dialogue tics, and more.

A great example of fully-fleshed secondary characters can be found in Sailor Moon. While Usagi is the series protagonist, the other characters- Ami, Rei, Makoto, and Mina – have their own character traits, hobbies, preferences, and opinions. These traits are sometimes in direct conflict with Usagi’s desires and goals, which leads to either comical or critical impasses in the plot.

Use Character to Further Plot

The next step is figuring out how to weave these stories together so that the secondary character’s motivation aligns or helps along the main character’s motivations and goals. How can you use the secondary character’s motivations to impede the main character’s? How can their hobbies, preferences, and tastes either solve a complication, or create one?

For example, could a character’s nerdiness about artisanal gin [Ryan Reynolds, call me. –Ed.] solve a murder mystery set in a bar? Or, more interestingly, could it accidentally misdirect the detective?

Give them Silly Hats

Not every character that appears in your book needs the full D&D Character Page workup treatment, of course. Some named characters are there for one or two scenes and then are gone. These people don’t have to be as detailed as your main characters, secondary characters and antagonists, but the reader must be able to tell them apart. If the character is close to a main character, you can use that main character’s emotions and the way they act (or react) around them, to give your secondary characters depth.

The easiest way to make a named or speaking secondary character memorable is to give them a one or two definable, memorable traits. Neil Gaiman calls this the Silly Hat. Obviously you’re not going to give them all actual silly hats, but choose something strong or unusual to help readers visualize and distinguish the characters from one another.

For example: “My wife introduced me to her receptionist, an off-beat woman named Esther with the biggest, greenest cat-eye glasses I’d ever seen in my life. I hated her the second she let loose a screeching laugh.”

In one sentence, we’ve established that Esther is non-conformist, wears unusual (and therefore memorable) glasses, and may be either socially unaware or downright rude. We can now reference one or more of these traits whenever she appears to remind the reader who Esther is, or we can give her new behavior that challenges the assumptions the reader has already made about her character.

Activity

Pick up the last fiction book you read and list the secondary characters you recall off the top of your head. Next to each character, write down what you remember about them. Why did these details stick in your head? Did you remember them by a behavior, rather than by their name? If you don’t remember any of the secondary characters, take another look at the book and reread the sections where they appear. Are they described with generic language that makes it hard to remember who they were? Do they exist in the story as anything other than a prop for the main character’s interaction?

*

Have a question about the craft of business of being a writer? Ask it here, and I’ll answer in a new Words for Writers article!