Does Your Job Influence Your Writing?

Most of us have a job to pay the bills while we noodle-away on our vocation. Few of us consider the wealth of ideas and drama that is inherent to those day-gigs. Or even how the philosophy of our labors subconsciously influence our imaginative playground.

It will surprise no one who has read the Hannah Swensen/Murder She Baked mysteries that author Joanne Fluke comes from a long line of bakers. Nor would it be particularly shocking that she worked as a personal assistant for a private investigator. I was surprised to find that she also worked as a software consultant and a writer for a game show. 

 

However, you see the riches of those experiences in each Hanna Swensen adventure. 

Michael Crichton wrote four books before he hit it big with The Andromeda Strain. The first three were standard pulp of the day, heists, assassins, and mistaken identities. Oh and lots of sex. The fourth book though, A Case of Need, was something completely different. The story of a pathologist determined to help a friend accused of murdering a nurse, the book is timely (abortion is the subplot and it was illegal in many states then, too) fast, and best of all, it smacks of hard-earned experience. That is mostly because Doctor Michael Crichton was a Havard educated doctor and research biology fellow. He’s seen some things and I’m not just talking about science.

Science does pays more than bills

As stated The Andromeda Strain was his first big hit, allowing him to leave medicine (which he hated) and write full time.  It is no coincidence that Crichton’s biggest successes were the science books—Coma, Jurassic Park, Rising Sun et al. His gift was conveying complex ideas in easy to understand terms. Story was the objective rather than show how smart he was.

Arthur Conan Doyle predates Crichton by almost 100 years. Also trained as a physician, Doyle actually practiced medicine first as a ship’s surgeon and then in private practice. Also like Crichton, Doyle's earliest publishing successes were based in science. Doyle, however, had a different drive than Crichton. Born into the closing days of the British Empire, Doyle in his work, is very much the bubbling Watson attempting to reconcile his scientific training with generational superstition and prejudice, all at the turn of the century. Holmes is his ultimate expression of reason and rational thought, standing against ignorance and brutality.

Perhaps the best known vocational writer is Dashiell Hammett (bottom row, center). A Pinkerton detective for nearly a decade, Dash knew the ins and outs of crime which can be boiled down mostly to greed and deceit. He brought that experience both to his writing—his detectives wear hard lives just as they wear threadbare clothes and comfortable shoes. They take those lives off with a drink a the end of the day and then put them back on, along with necessity and worry. Just as Dash had.

He also brought his experiences with people to his activism. Disillusioned with the Pinkertons’ union-busting activities, Dash left the agency the first year he was published. He would use experiences with surveillance and infiltration to advise the fledgling Screen Writers Guild and the Civil Rights Congress. 

But maybe you’re not a former private detective like Dash, or a doctor like Doyle or Crichton, you may not be a baker, like Fluke, either. Aren’t you ashamed? Jokes aside, I just bet, you have some experiences that have shaped your views on life and will likewise shape your writing. 

Because I don’t think anyone’s bingo card included a failed restaurateur and middling line cook become a world-wide phenomenon who would change the way a nation viewed food and travel.

The Fraud Triangle is the barometer of credibility in my little diddies.

In June of this year I will celebrate my seventh year as a Certified Fraud Examiner…by paying a stack of cash to renew my certification and attesting to my continuing professional education. Yet the CFE has provided me with a wealth of experience beyond the job qualification it imparts. Years of study and work in the field has informed my fiction writing. 

Developed by criminologist, Dr. Donald Cressey, the Fraud Triangle neatly represents the key aspects of fraud: financial pressure, (may be professional or personal pressure) rationalization, and of course, opportunity. The triangle, employed like a compass, allows the examiner to track just about every case of fraud we are likely to encounter.

Bernie Madoff toiled for 30 years to build an investment empire on word of mouth and computer innovaiton. He was also under intense pressure to conceal the fact that his investment empire was a sham. Further, he rationalized that his dupes “should’ve known better,” or “could afford it” or “they were greedy." Finally, he had unrestricted access to his client’s money—in direct contridiction to (most) state and SEC guidelines for investment services.

In my writing the fraud triangle becomes the checklist for credulity. What is it my bad men/women want? What is the pressure? What is the opportunity? What do the worse-er men/women want, etc? Granted, I come from that side of the tracks so I’m not writing entirely in the abstract or necessarily about fraud. Still, the root formula still applies. 

Like Dash, none of us are writing anything that hasn’t been written before. But just as none of it had been written in the way that Dash wrote it, nothing that has been written before has been written in your voice, or lensed through your experiences. You have some gold in your past, don’t be afraid to let it shine.

I own none of the photos above. They are used here for educational/instruction purposes as covered by the Fair Use Doctrine.

What the Least-Favorite Characters Teach Writers

 

We all have our favorite characters. When I reflect on my childhood, (a lot of illness and a lot of isolation) I recall Curious George, the Penvensie kids, and Spider Man as great companions. George taught me to be inquisitive, to seek out people and experiences. The Peter, Susan, Lucy, and Edmond gave me adventure. They also taught me how to deal with fear and loss and even personal failure. Spider Man expanded on those lessons and added on a healthy dose of mid-century optimism and humor. 

 

They were more than favorite characters, they were my friends. Then, as so many other readers do, I matured as did my tastes. I began to read further a-field and I became more critical of cherished favorites. 

 

The thing is, we all have our least-favorite characters, too.

 

Often, those less-than-favs are in the same stories as our favs. The man in the yellow hat? He took George from his home and turned him over to a zoo. Not a fan. Edmund Penvensie was a bully toward Lucy and a middling coward. Don’t get me started on Norman Osborn, (killed Gwen Stacy) and Harry Osborn, (just damned evil). REALLY not a fan.

 

But those characters have lessons to teach the writer

 

Edmund is a prime example of how to write the face-turn, (professional wrestling expression where a “heel” turns good). He encounters true brutality and near-unspeakable fear. Instead of breaking him, the fire tempers Edmund and he comes out of the White Witch’s dungeon penitent (as good Christian, C.S. Lewis aspired for us all to be) and fierce, nearly falling in battle at his siblings’ side.

 

Sometimes the last really does become the first

 

In Gerard Way’s The Umbrella Academy, Reginald Hargreeves sets out to form a team of super-powered kids to battle an unnamed evil. Even when nearly four-dozen such kids are born on one day, pickings can run slim and they’re not all guaranteed to be winners. Vonya Hargreeves looks a lot like a dud when we meet her. In a group of seven she’s the only one without powers. She also presents like a perpetual victim and that shtick wears thin, fast.

 

What UA teaches is to take your time. Over time, we find out that Vonya has been abused throughout her life. Her power, (near-god level) has been suppressed by her foster father to the point that she doesn’t even know that she has it. Then she is attacked by a villain determined to set it off by setting Vonya loose. 

 

Just like that, Vonya goes from one of the most boring characters to a HUGE factor that may be good or evil or both. It is a brilliant use of clichés to subvert tropes. Gerard Way redirects the reader’s focus and in doing so we see not only a fully-fleshed out character but we also see the other characters in new ways.

 

…and the third becomes a jerk

 

We also meet Allison Hargreeves (Vonya’s foster sister) in The Umbrella Academy. Adult Allison seems like Vonya’s polar opposite. Well-adjusted with a career, marriage, and child, Allison looks like a winner. Then we find out that her marriage has ended badly and she doesn’t have custody of her daughter.

 

Over time we find out that Allison has lost a lot more. In spite of her superpower (a form of mind-control) she has lost a hand to a supervillain. Her childhood crush (and foster brother) Luther has left Earth to live on the Moon after his own near-death experience. Her family has largely fallen apart after the death of another foster brother. We also learn that Allison is a narcissist who used her powers to compell her ex to marry her. She also used her powers on her daughter.

 

If Edmund is the entry-level face-turn, Allison is a master class heel-turn. I went from team-Allison rooting for her big comeback to cheering when Vonya slits her throat—in just a few short pages. Allison’s redemption is too little too late for me but I understand that it resonated with others.

 

Oh, yeah, spoilers…

 

I’m among the few science-fiction fans who did not like Firefly. The Fox television series created by Joss Whedon seemed a poor imitation of the superior anime Cowboy Beebop. Mostly, the Firefly characters were flat and stereotypical. The world creation smacked of Asian dread and white-male-replacement anxiety.

 

Sure, Malcolm “Mal” Reynolds is the typical haunted-hero-with-a-past. That’s thousands of heroes in thousands of stories. The problem is Mal never really moves beyond that. True, Firefly only ran one, truncated season but the later movie, (which I saw first) did nothing to suggest an arc or any form of development. Still, there were glimmers even among the drack. 

 

Meanwhile, the biggest annoyance, Jayne Cobb, a stereotypical sidekick, quickly became one of the more interesting characters. In a few episodes Jayne evolves from not-quite enemy to not-entirely ally. He also infuses humanity through self-interest, speaking truth (rudely) to power, and calling out the elephant in whatever room he’s in. While stalwart in a fight, Jayne is also the voice of “why are we doing this again?” just about every story needs.

 

Adaptations can be problematic they can also illustrate possibilities

Arthur Douglas, a human from earth, lost his family to the intergalactic titan, Thanos. Kronos, (another titan) decides Arthur will make a good ringer and he takes Arthur’s soul and places it in an enhanced being with the strength/power to challenge Thanos. Like, can’t these guys work out their own issues? A friend of mine said basically Arthur became space-Hulk. 

Having read several incarnations of Drax I can tell you he was boring. The tragedy was little more than a motivational device. His anger and second (or third) tier power made Drax little more than cannon fodder. I typically didn’t read Drax panels, skipping ahead to anyone else.

The movie was better

Guardians of the Galaxy (movie) Drax, (Arthur got the entire boot) is other-than-human species who’s family was slaughtered by Ronan, (one of Thanos’ homies). Movie Drax wears his grief the way the other characters wear clothes. Movie Drax is also literal—no sense of metaphor or simile—with a very laconic (means “basic”) sense of humor. 

Drax, in GotG, is multifaceted. He seeks revenge for his wife and child but he also fights to protect his new companions. A consummate warrior, he totally punches above his weight. He also admits when he is wrong. Drax is big and menacing but he’s also silly and clumsy. 

Our favorite characters give us so much. But our least favorites can teach us SO much about how to craft a story. Pay attention to the annoying characters, the cringe characters, the characters you like to skip-past. You’ll be surprised what they can do for your writing. 

The image above, The Guardians of the Galaxy vol 3 promotional poster is the property of Marvel and Disney Pictures. It is used here for educational/illustrative purposes as covered by the Fair Use Doctrine.

The Importance of Genre In Writing

 

Genre: noun; a category of artistic composition, as in music or literature, characterized by similarities in form, style or subject matter.

David Crosby died over the weekend. From his formative years with The Byrds to defining the sound of Crosby, Stills, and Nash with their debut concert at Woodstock, Crosby was a consummate blender of musical styles. Indeed, Neil Young (of the later Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young) called Crosby the soul of CSNY.

What does this have to do with genre?

There are many artists, musicians, and writers who bristle at the concept of genre. Radio station KPFT Houston broadcasts a two hour show called Jazz Latino. The focus is on various forms of jazz music produced across Latin-America. Juan Flores, the host, doesn’t care for the term “latin jazz.” He feels that genre labels limit accessibility (and thereby, exposure) based on prejudices.

“I use a lot of tunings because I listen to a lot of jazz.” -David Crosby

The thing is, as often as genre is used to categorize something, it is more often a guidepost. David Crosby, with rocking songs of loss and love and anticonformity, was synonymous with 1960s counterculture music. But before that, he was a pop singer with Roger McGuire’s Byrds. And before all of that Crosby was a troubadour in Santa Barbara coffee houses. For his entire life, Crosby identified as a folk singer.

“Sometimes you have to play for a long time to sound like yourself.” -Miles Davis

Pioneering jazz musician Miles Davis eschewed genre as well. Just as David Crosby combined folk, country, rock, and even jazz to meld and shape CSN/Y’s sound, Miles Davis experimented with orchestration and improvisation, pop and funk. He even recorded music from Disney cartoons. In the process Miles invented the genre of Cool Jazz. 

But prior to digital downloads, (where you better be good and sure of what you’re looking for) you went into a brick-and-mortar store and asked the clerk where to find Miles Davis, they would point you to the “Jazz” section. You might even get a “you know, if you like Miles, you might also like Pharoah Sanders, or Sonny Rollins, or…”

“I love crime, I love mysteries, and I love ghosts.” -Stephen King

Writers struggle with genre as well. New writers often defy genre-classification when talking about their work. You may get an “upmarket fiction,” which means the writer has literary aspirations along with a steadfast aversion to starving. Other (courageous) authors will cross genres. 

That success requires a thorough, understanding of both genres. Even then for every Jeff Somers’ The Electric Church (science fiction and noir) or Jacqueline Carey’s Kushiel’s Dart (erotica and fantasy) there are multitude of Twilight clones (vampires and YA romance). In fairness, a lot of misfires are a matter of ambition exceeding experience/ability. That means little to the person who invested the money and reading time on a turkey book. 

“I’ll play it first and tell you what it is later.” -Miles Davis

My wife asked Alexa to play CSN’s Southern Cross, which Alexa did while shuffling “similar songs.” So we got Southern Cross, followed by Seals and Croft’s Summer Breeze. Not great, not terrible. But the wheels came off the algorithm bus when Alexa then played Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Simple Kind of Man. Even if you like southern rock and/or easy listening, when taken together those songs sound like pots and pans crashing. 

Readers can’t love your book if they can’t find your book

Carrie is horror with shades of family tragedy thrown in. The Shining is a family drama with ghosts, as is Pet Semitary. But book sellers and book buyers knew where those books belonged and it wasn’t in the Western or New Literature sections. I promise that some angry readers returned their copies of Stephen King's Different Seasons when they realized they had been duped by the author’s name and cover art.

Meanwhile, King's Dr. Sleep is about generational addiction and recovery from abuse. It's also is about psychic vampires and is scary AF. Horror section, no doubt about it.

Get right with the game to get your work read

You want to be edgy? Great. You want to subvert expectations? Fantastic. You’re determined that your work will defy genre conventions? Good luck selling it. 

I’ve read across genres but I consistently return to science fiction and crime. As writers we (ideally) write what we like, just as we read what we like. I have four completed drafts. All are crime stories. I want to find those readers. Correction, I NEED to find those readers. Otherwise, my work languishes, unread. 

Embrace your genre. If you’re not sure what it is, you may not have read enough to define what type of story you dig. Or, you may be too close to it. That’s where crit groups, beta readers, and helpful guides come in. Mostly, it’s reading. By reading widely, you figure out how to tell the story you want to tell. Mario Puzzo wanted to tell the story of the American family in the churning seas of 20th-century-American capitalism—he chose crime as his method. You also learn the genre norms, e.g. a romance-novel ingénue is never a divorced alcoholic with sexual trauma. A supernatural YA novel is never 150K words. There are science ficiton novels wiht knights in armor swinging broadswords. They have not been well received.

Mostly as long as your readers can find your book and you deliver on the promise (genre), the readers will love you.

The image at the top, “Doctor Sleep” movie poster belongs to Warner Bros. Pictures, et al. It is used here for educational/instructional purposes as covered by the Fair Use Doctrine.

Don't Shoot the Mentor: Writing the Supporting Cast

 

In his genre-defining work, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell introduces the basic construct that underpins just about every modern story in western civilization. It is useful, (if dry) reading as the book lays out the steps of the hero’s journey. The mentor meeting is a vital step in that journey. 

The mentor is usually the one who defines terms. Obi Wan is Luke’s mentor. He’s also the audience’s guide to the galaxy far-far away as well as the circumstances Luke must face to advance on his journey. Obi Wan explains the Force, provides valuable insight (exposition), and gives a bit of set-up for the eventual conflict. It’s a lot of work for a man of Obi Wan’s age.

Most importantly to the hero, the mentor elevates them from whinny farm boy to Jedi, (trainee). For folks who don’t know/don’t like Star Wars, (what is wrong with you?) think Road House. Wade Garrett (Sam Elliott) is mentor to John Dalton (Patrick Swayze). Garrett taught Dalton to use martial arts and, apparently, hair products.

The conclusion of the mentor’s journey in (most) western stories: death

Okay, the article isn’t that short. But, yeah, Obi Wan sacrifices himself on Vader’s sword (don’t tell anyone) for Luke to escape the Empire’s clutches. But also for Luke to advance as a hero.

When we first encounter Luke and Obi-Wan, he says it upfront, “I hate the Empire.” Yet Luke’s hatred is detached. He hates the Empire the way the American colonists hated the English Crown—from a distance. When those same colonists were brutalized by English troops, that hatred became personal and immediate. Luke hated the Empire in the abstract. After Obi Wan is killed, Luke HATES Vader (and the Empire) viscerally.

Oh, Garrett dies, too. So, yeah, spoilers.

You’ll see the same basic structure play out in myriad movies, (T’Chaka and then T’Challa in Black Panther) television, (Maarva in Andor) and books, (Delilah in How Stella Got Her Groove Back). It’s a trope for a reason: it works. It’s also lazy storytelling that simply doesn’t work for every story. HSGHGB had a central conflict: does Stella and Winston make it or not? Delilah’s death is a hard-left turn in the tone of the story and we lose invaluable adult-in-the-room voice and humor. 

Subverting expectations is our speciality (For full effect, read in Obi Wan’s voice)

John Alvidson’s 1984 film, The Karate Kid is a coming-of-age drama. We follow teenager, Daniel LaRusso, who’s world is turned upside-down when his Mom moves them from New Jersey to California on (seemingly) a whim. Daniel is the quintessential fish-out-of-water and cannot catch a break with the girl, his classmates, or even on the soccer pitch. Then he meets Mr. Miyagi. 

Seriously, watch the movie. It’s a sweet story with just the right amount of butt-kicking. But you know what a sweet, coming-of-age story about a boy who finds himself in the last place he’d ever think to look DOES NOT need? Death. No one needed to die in TKK. Alvidson understood that and so, Miyagi does not die. He guides Daniel, he teaches Daniel, but most importantly, Miyagi understands that he cannot do for Daniel what Daniel must do for himself: stand up to the bully, face-down his own fear, and grow beyond circumstances. Miyagi is a warts-and-all mentor and Alvidson’s application of mentor to story is robbing-a-bank BRILLIANT.

The mentor has a plan of their own

You ever wonder if somewhere, way back in hobbit ancestry, that the Bagginses borrowed money from Gandalf? Because he sure treats them like they owe him money.

In Tolkien’s The Hobbit, Gandalf sends Bilbo Baggins off with a bunch of ne’er-do-well dwarves to rob a dragon. A plump, middle-aged male of indeterminate occupation whose only vocation is being punctual for meals, Bilbo is not much of anything and certainly not the “burglar” Gandalf proclaims him to be. A generation later, Gandalf shows up again and sends Bilbo’s nephew off on a wild jewelry chase. 

Yeah-yeah, he dies but he comes back so it still counts as subverting tropes. 

Gandalf is a mentor, true enough. He explains. He guides. And like most people, he has his own agenda. Most stories share this point. The mentor has an agenda and that agenda rarely has the best interests of the hero at the center of machinations. Gandalf is just balls-out about his. 

Double the mentors, twice the drama (Best read in Count Dooku’s voice)

In Robert Towne’s excellent 1982 film, Personal Best, Chris (Mariel Hemingway) and Tory (Patrice Donnelly) are co-competitors for the U.S. Olympic Track and Field Team. Tory recognizes Chris’ talent and starting as co-equals, begins to advise her. Especially when Coach Terry Tingloff (Scott Glenn, who has played no less than four mentors) is initially indifferent to Chris. 

Over time, Chris and Tory become lovers. Then, as Chris pulls away, they become rivals. Meanwhile, Terry begins to see Chris’ potential and decides to split the women up. Hilarity does not ensue. 

The villain as mentor (No Star Wars gags in that one)

Clarice Starling, (book, not film) is on thin ice. She’s barely making it through FBI training. Then she gets a plumb assignment from Jack Crawford, director of the Bureau’s Behavior Analysis Unit, to interview Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Starling aspires to work in the BAU and she would really like to contribute to the apprehension of a serial killer tagged, “Buffalo Bill” by the tabloid press. 

Both Crawford and Lecter seek to guide and shape Clarice. Both men seek to use her as well. Crawford uses Clarice as enticement to draw Lecter out, to get the benefit of his cunning, clinical mind. Lecter sees his ultimate other-self, (the person striving to become more than their circumstances) in Starling and he is smitten. He also sees a malleable subject that he might fashion into the key for escape. Over time, both men come to care for Starling and take steps to protect her. Ultimately, both learn that Starling, like the lion of truth, doesn’t need protecting, she only needs to be set loose. Once off the chain, she can/does protect herself.

“I burn my life to make a sunrise that I know I’ll never see. And the ego that started this fight will never have a mirror or an audience or the light of gratitude.” Luthen Rael, Andor

Luthen Rael is a pompous, petty man. A master manipulator who consigns others to death in a chess match that only he knows is in play. He seeks out Cassian Andor with the intention of using and burning the thief/smuggler. But even without meaning to, he mentors Cassian. 

There are many ways to do mentors. Killing them deprives you of SO much drama and robs you of often rich characters who are indispensable to your narrative. Consider your story. Is a death needed for gravity, for story progression, or simply for convenience. Write accordingly.

The photo at the top, Road House movie poster, is the property of United Artist. It is used her for instructional/educational purposes as covered by the Fair Use Doctrine.