Storming the Castle before Crossing the Moat

To some this may be a philosophical issue, to others rhetorical (and I should just shut up). Or one can begin a debate, on principal, about the fundamental basics of good writing and the very best kind of storytelling. That writers can NOT gratify their reader too quickly.

All stories begin with the "set up"; the introducing of characters, atmosphere, setting, attitude, ambiance. Great writers never rush this "crossing of the Moat".  Because the moat is where the tease begins; setting up anticipation with hints of conflicts to come. The tease is a must. It works, despite what we writers have been pressured to think, i.e. deliver the goods and get out. And where's the emotional hum; the hankering, the hoping, the falling for the guy and wondering if... for either writer or reader, in the "slam, bam, thank you, ma'am" experience? (Have we all been there or what?!)

So make your "crossing the moat" old school­-­­‑ about finding the way into your story with unanswered questions, speculation and mystery that keeps a reader wondering when the "swimming" will dump them into a whirlpool of unexpected twists and turns, dangerous monsters and gut-wrenching revelations inside the Castle. Don't cheat yourself and the reader with new school thinking, that 'instant gratification' where the story opens in battle and all you know about the hero is that he's too cute to die (so you know he won't) or all you see of the heroine is her love for her granny (so you know the bank doesn't foreclose on her house).  And you as the writer are left with the question... will a reader remember these characters?  And will they rave about my novel to friends?

I devoured The Hunger Games Trilogy.  I loved every well-written word, lived every edgy emotion alongside the characters. And know what? It takes a good while to get to the Castle (or in  this scenario, the Capital) and the "swim" is a five star adventure I recommend without reservation. And will dive into again and again!

A Family's Hero

This month I’m not going to be able to write my normal post.  The month of February has raced by me without notice.  I have been wrapped up in the grief of a family for a man who is their hero.  

My husband’s father was a Marine for 11 years and in the Army for nearly as long.  He fought in Vietnam and is slowly dying a soldier’s death.  The battles of that war still follow him on a daily basis.  So much so that he will not close his eyes in the dark of night.  He sits and holds his wife’s hand and waits.  Waits for the morning sun, waits for his next breath to come, waits for the end.  

It does not matter what medicine he is given, his eyes will not close.  It is as if he is refusing to accept the inevitable.  He will face his death, as he faced his life.  On his terms, in his command and not a minute before he is ready.  While others in his position would gladly sit to rest, to be wheeled to their room, to be comforted, not him.  He walks.  As a Marine walks.  As a soldier walks.  As a man walks who has fought the ultimate battle and comes home to tell about it.  

He raised his family in the turmoil that filled that era with ugliness.  And I am so glad he did.  He has taught us all how to hold our heads high and our feet firm.  He has shown the way to valor is not in acts of bravery, but of the strong courage that courses through our souls.  He has believed always that the woman he fell in love with at first sight was the girl fate had brought him.  It is she who holds his hand in all the minutes of the night.  

So for us who write of heroes and heroines.  Who write of love and of romance that lasts the stand of time.  We can take a page from this Marine, his story and his girl who has loved him in return through all the battles fifty years can hold.  Even this final one.  

"oo-RAH", Papa!