The most important element in storytelling is conflict. Without it your story will fall victim to the "sagging middle." Conflict creates tension and drama while it focuses on the action and suspense to follow. Your story must begin with a problem and a goal. You build up the tension by preventing your characters from reaching their goals and making the problem more difficult. The drama begins from the difficulties they face. By ending a chapter in the middle of a conflict, you will intrigue the reader to turn the page.
Conflict is found in the difference between their personalities, actions to obtain their goals, and the effect their actions have on each other. Most beginning writers have a tendency to make their characters too perfect. Don’t fall into this trap because a perfect character has no story to tell. Arguing constantly is not conflict. Your characters need specific traits showing what they will and won’t do to solve their problem. That means you’ll need to flesh out your characters in detail with a profile chart. If your character decides to act on a situation, then something specific happens. On the other hand, if the character decides not to act, then something entirely different should happen. Due to the consequences of their actions, suspense builds. For every action, there should be a greater reaction from the forces against your character. This is the cause-and-effect strategy. By solving each problem that comes their way, your hero and heroine will show character growth.
There are two types of conflict, internal and external. The internal conflict occurs within the character and keeps the couple from committing. The external conflict is the situation that brought the characters together and what happens to them during the journey to reach their goals. Remember, in romance it’s the internal conflict between the hero and heroine that is the driving point of your book. It’s not easy keeping internal and external separated because the internal conflict leads to more external conflict. The tension builds upon the other until your story is wound so tight that something has to break. This is the crisis of the story. The black moment occurs right after along with the resolution and the end of the book. Be sure that all loose ends are tied up during the resolution.
People read for the entertainment. One sure way to keep your reader turning the pages is to leave her in the midst of a conflict.
Have you ever gone back to early chapters of a work-in-progress and discovered your characters saying and doing things which seem out-of-character? Most likely, we all have. And while we hope our characters grow and evolve in the space of our story, the problem of erratic behavior in characters can more likely be attributed to a lack of preparation by the writer.
It stands to reason that by the time a writer completes a manuscript, he or she knows well how the characters will react in many situations. We've been with them through angst and sorrow, felt their joys and disappointments, brought them through trials and tribulations we wouldn't wish upon our most hostile enemies. By the end of a manuscript, we know these people. But did we know them at the beginning of this epiphany? If you are still discovering out-of-character behavior in the first few chapters of your manuscript, the answer is probably no. Fret not, weary writer. Help is at hand.
You have this brilliant idea, this remarkable, ingenious plot that is going to turn the publishing world on its proverbial ear. Great. This is most helpful. You have a vague idea of setting, and if you're really lucky, you may even know your characters' names. Splendid. Do you also know your hero's favorite color? Have you any idea how he received that little crescent-moon scar over his left eyebrow? Are you aware that your heroine at age nine lost a baby sister to smallpox, that her mother took to her bed on that day and grieved her life away, leaving young heroine to raise the remaining siblings with only a wastrel father to provide for their needs? Maybe you did know these things. Maybe not. If you didn't, you should.
Will these details appear in some dreadfully long narrative on page two of your story? Let us hope not. But you need to know these things regardless of the fact they may never appear in your story. They are your window to your characters' souls. These things give your characters details and dreams, they flesh out the bones of your hero, support the actions of your heroine. They matter. Big time.
So how do you discover these pieces of the puzzle? You create them, of course. And you do it before the first chapter heading is ever typed. Make a questionnaire of sorts and interview your main characters before you tell their story. Get personal. Ask the sort of questions Freud might have asked. "Tell me, Mr. Hero...how do you feel about your mother?" Once you have your answer, dig a bit deeper. Why does he revere his mother? What does he desire more than anything else in this life? How will he know when he achieves that?
By now you've probably figured out it's not necessarily the answers to these questions that are important. More importantly, it is the motivation these answers give your characters. What are your heroine's goals? What drives your hero? Know these things and you know how they will react to most any dilemma, how they will solve a problem, or how they might respond to a direct insult, a flowery compliment. That character will be firmly etched in your mind, but more germane, that character will be firmly etched in your reader's mind.
Goals and motivations are not plucked out of thin air. They are born of past hurts and thwarted desires, because we feel a need to achieve, a need to avoid, a need to experience something. It can be anything. But it has to be something. Because without goals and motivations, your characters will meander meaninglessly through your story.
Often we realize that reaching the destination is not the goal. It might be a great place to type The End, but it's not the end all. It is the journey that is our story. It's how our characters survived, grew, changed and succeeded that makes the story so satisfying. You must know your characters to recognize how they will survive, where they need to grow, what changes will take place and what success looks like to them. Know your characters and their story will practically tell itself.
It’s your first time to judge the Golden Heart. It might even be your first time to judge anything. You’ve received your packet, the entries neatly bound in banker’s clips, fresh off the press. You pick up that first partial with sweaty palms, your nerves on edge. All you can do is stare. Who died and made you the expert? You know how you feel about your own work so you assume this writer is as passionate about hers. Why do you feel as if you’re playing God?
Don’t worry, you’re not. You’re giving a fair-and hopefully-impartial opinion. So take a deep breath, you can do this. But how do you begin?
Stop right now, put that entry down, and let’s chew on this a bit. First of all, judging is not completely subjective. There are several things a virgin judge must take into consideration. As a veteran contest entrant and judge, I’ve learned there are a few aspects that can keep too much subjectivity from creeping in. For what it’s worth, these are the things you should know before you pick up that score sheet.
If you’re judging the Golden Heart because you’re a Golden Heart entrant, you could be judging a category outside your preference. That doesn’t mean you can’t give an impartial score. Just remember to leave your personal taste at the door. If you don’t like historicals set in the Old West, get over it. This isn’t about your likes and dislikes. This is about a well-written story with all the elements that constitute a good book. You should also know the difference between the varied categories; i.e. short contemporary series versus single title contemporary.
Let’s take a look at the technical stuff. If a manuscript is full of errors (not just one or two typos that can be forgiven if the partial is relatively clean) and the grammar is, on a whole, terrible, you’re going to take that into consideration. That doesn’t mean you need to go into line editor mode, especially since the GH doesn’t allow comments. But if poor sentence structure and non-existent punctuation jumps out at you, you’re going to find the material difficult to read. And one other thing. Like it or not, GH rules state judges are not to take manuscript format into consideration when judging, therefore put away your rulers. You’re not allowed to measure the margins or count off for fancy fonts.
Now lets get to the guts of the judging process. This is where the fun begins, or so you hope. After you’ve read through the entry twice (most entries require this), you might want to try asking yourself a few questions.
Did the hook appeal to you (opening of the story)? Does the story keep your attention (pacing)? Do you connect with the hero and heroine (characterization)? Are your protagonists’ goals, conflict and motivation clearly defined (this one should be self-explanatory. If not, read a book on the subject)? Does the dialogue sound natural or is it stilted (talking heads instead of real people)? Does the setting enhance (set the mood) or does it take over the story (detailed description of every piece of furniture in the entire house)? Is the writing sensual (good use of the five senses)? Is there a balance between exposition and dialogue (talking and commentary)? Is it free of weighty back-story (three pages of blow-by-blow flashback on the hero’s first day at school with no significance to the story)? Is the writing active (not riddled with `to be’ verbs)? Is it clearly a romance (two people destined to fall in love)?
Ah, yes, and then there’s the strongly debated POV issue. In my humble opinion, regardless of whether or not you’re a POV purist, the most important question to ask yourself when judging another person’s POV technique is: Am I hurled out of the story world because I’m confused? That’s a red flag. And if you absolutely, positively know the work is poorly researched, you can take that into consideration. But another warning, if you’re going to count off on research aspects, you better be certain you know what you’re talking about.
The synopsis can be difficult to judge. It should reveal if the story flows, if there’s substantial internal (gut-level) and external (plot) conflict, an appealing romantic relationship and a satisfying ending. Some writers have a knack at writing synopses. Others, well, frankly, stink. In the past I’ve judged writers with beautiful partials and merely adequate synopses. Let’s face it, they’re difficult to write. I personally take the entry as a whole and if it’s apparent the author knows their stuff, and the story makes sense, then I score accordingly.
Consider this. Contest entries are like cars for sale. If the owner polishes the car to a shine, a prospective buyer might overlook a few stains on the carpet and a worn place on the upholstery. But if the owner merely rinses the car off, fails to remove the trash, and throws it into the market in a less-than-favorable condition, it’s likely he will have a difficult time selling his vehicle.
Okay, it sounds like a lot to know. But you should be familiar with these aspects and include them in your own work, so no sweat. And there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Some manuscripts simply shine. Some grab you by the throat and pull you through the story. They make you laugh, make you cry. The author’s voice is unique and strong. Those are the manuscripts that will stick with you long after the contest is over. They may not make the finals, for whatever reason, but they’ve touched something in you. That, alone, is worth the experience.
Now that I’ve probably confused you, I’ll end with a few last thoughts. Most manuscripts aren’t perfect. But that doesn’t mean you can’t give a great manuscript a perfect score if it captures your attention, the writing is strong and the author’s voice is refreshing. If it’s quality, then don’t be afraid to give it what it deserves. Secondly, if it isn’t up to publishing standards, then score accordingly. Above all, be fair. There is absolutely no room for pettiness or professional jealousy. And once you’re done, don’t agonize over your decisions. If you did your best, that’s all anyone could ask.
And hey, it does get a little easier the second time. Sort of.
Kristi Goldberg, a 1996 Golden Heart Finalist, has judged in several regional contests as well as the Golden Heart. She is proud to report she has yet to be threatened with bodily harm because of her efforts.