Ah, the irony!
Having last month complained about wordcount conventions for aspiring authors, particularly the idea that their books should be as short as possible, I’m now devoting even more words to this topic.
Having last month complained about wordcount conventions for aspiring authors, particularly the idea that their books should be as short as possible, I’m now devoting even more words to this topic.
Drafts of all three books in my proposed trilogy (and a single sheet of paper to spare!)
When you’ve written the first book in a series that you want to have traditionally published—or rather a book that has “series potential”, to use the correct querying parlance—they say you absolutely should not write a sequel (or sequels) until the first book is sold.
I’ve always considered myself a plotter. I’m very fond of pantsing my way through revisions, rewriting a scene five times in quick succession if need be rather than taking the time to outline the most feasible approach.
(Continued from Part 1)
Specifically, the first of three questions that I ask myself in attempting to create a narrative that sounds of a bygone era for historical fiction.
Being a writer of historical fiction has made me even more mindful of word choice.
Case in point: in my previous post, I argued that physical descriptions of characters of the sort that itemize their hair colour, eye colour, height, and hair style are largely irrelevant to the plot and point of most stories.
It had to do with the physical description of a certain character. Specifically, the fact that, in her mind, I hadn’t provided a physical description at all.
(Continued from Part 1)
That is to say, beginning with a book that provides a broad overview of the historical era in question.
You also have to present a well-constructed setting that captures the culture, customs, details, and ethos of the historical period in question. In this way, histfic genre conventions have as much in common with an honours-level history class as with any other genre of fiction.