Generating Story 11: Creative Q&A with Author Janci Patterson

ByJohn Brown

I was introduced to Janci Patterson at a local convention by author Sandra Tayler (some may know Sandra because of her husband Howard who does the online Schlock Mercenary comic).  Janci told me she’d just signed with a YA publisher. That was exciting. I asked her what her novel was about. She told me, and I immediately hated her because it sounded like such a fun idea, and I wanted to not only read it, but also write the story myself. Luckily I have a few scruples and did not pay the local Klingons to off her and drop her body in the Great Salt Lake for the brine shrimp to feast upon.

BTW, did you know that back in the day hucksters placed this ad in Boy’s Life magazine?

Look at that cute sea-monkey family. Look at the picture of the human family watching the sea-monkey family swim around a castle in a bowl. Click on it. See it large.

As a young lad, I, as every good Boy Scout should, subscribed to the magazine. I saw that ad over and over.  Who wouldn’t want a sea-monkey? So I saved up my money, earned by watering plants and trees at a nursery in the hot Utah summer sun, and ordered me a family to put on my own shelf.

The aquarium came. It was not a bowl and did not have a castle. But, hey, there were real live sea-monkey eggs right there in the packet. They weren’t just fantasy creatures! I mixed in the water and salt and dropped the eggs in. I can’t tell you how excited I was. Days later the eggs hatched. And what did I have?

Brine shrimp.

BRINE SHRIMP!

I could have had my mom drive me to the lake where I could have scooped up a million of them. For free. That was, I believe, my first great disillusionment. The first great step from child to adult.

Alas, sea-monkeys . . .

Anyway, back to story. Janci was one of those Codex Writers who shared how she used Q&A to develop her killer story idea. She agreed to share it with you. Here’s Janci.

***

The idea for CHASING THE SKIP started with a game of existential questions.  That’s like Twenty Questions, only with no question limit and much more confusing subject matter–like the Pythagorean theorem, or gas prices.  My husband and I like to play the game on long road trips, since a really good round can take two or three hours to play out. 

On this occasion, I chose a bounty hunter.  It took Drew about five minutes to guess that one–not my finest subject ever.  But after he guessed it, we started talking.  I knew that bounty hunters still existed, but I had no idea how chasing down a fugitive could be a part of our contemporary justice system.  Just what is it that bounty hunters did, anyway?  How did it all work?

After our road trip, that question stuck with me, so I began to do some research.  What I discovered fascinated me.  A bounty hunter could legally chase down his mark because of the bail bond process.  In order to be released from jail before a pending trial, an arrestee had to put up bail money as collateral, to ensure they returned for their trial.  Since most people can’t afford to post the full bail amount, a bondsman will post it for them, in exchange for a smaller fee.  When the arrestee skips bail, the bondsman is out the money–unless he can get bring the arrestee back.  In fact, he’ll have that person sign away their constitutional rights to privacy in addition to paying the fee.  He’s allowed to go find them if they don’t show up in court.  He can even break and enter to do so–dragging them out against their will.  But the bondsman is a busy man, so he signs those rights over to a bounty hunter, and off the bounty hunter goes, chasing down the skip.  If a person is good at it, bounty hunter can be a legitimate career.

As I researched, I knew I had the beginnings of a story.  This had all the elements–reality with a touch of danger, crime with a touch of justice.  I wanted to make it work. 

But I write YA novels, and no bondsman would sign on a teenager to go after his skips.  That would have all kinds of negative legal ramifications, and even if it didn’t, no reader would believe it. Enter my Creative Q&A, the question I always ask when I’m doing idea development for a novel: where can I put a teenager in this?

Answer: she couldn’t be the bounty hunter, but she could be the bounty hunter’s daughter.

That posed its own problems, of course.  No dad in his right mind is going to haul his daughter along on the road with him as he tracks down skips.  (Or, in question form, what would make a dad in his right mind bring his daughter into such a dangerous situation?)  I needed a crisis, so he had to bring her along, had to track down the skip, had to keep going with all of it, even when things got rough.  And if I could work in some interpersonal drama, all the better.

And so it was that Ricki became abandoned by her mother, forced to ride along with her bounty hunter father, a man she barely knows, as he chases down a skip who is more dangerous than his usual mark.  Why would he take this particular job with Ricki along? 

Ricki would like to know that, too.

***

John Sez: ins’t that a great idea?  I hate Janci.

While we’re hating her, did you notice that she got some random bit of zing playing 20 questions with her hubby? She followed it up by doing some research.  After doing that, she had a lot more zing. She also knew she had a general topic for a story.  She knew she had the beginnings of a story because her zing meter was going wild. 

But she didn’t have a story yet.  She had a vocation, which is nothing more than a bit of setting.

To have a story you need character, problem, plot, AND setting.  So she whipped out her Creative Q&A tool to help her find a character.  And the question she asked was one she’s found is very productive for her. It’s a basic question. But it’s an excellent question. And from that Q&A she started to develop the rest of the story parts.

The take away isn’t that playing 20 questions on road trips is the key to story ideas.

It isn’t that one question Janci asked, as fundamental and productive as it is.

It’s that the principles we’ve been discussing in these posts work. Develop the 6 Core Parts. Think about objectives. Start anywhere. Hunt zing. Generate your own zing. Use Creative Q&A. Work on the various parts using whatever tools you have until you have developed enough that the story comes alive in your mind.

I hope she sells a million.

For more in this series, see How to Get and Develop Story Ideas

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    Presentation for Brandon Sanderson’s writing course

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    PDF of the slides

    Brandon asked me to substitute for him on March 1st and teach the students about indie publishing. For those of you who were there, here are the slides.

    2018 Sanderson Class – Indie Publishing Final PDF

    “If I Were Published”

    To start the presentation, I regaled the students with a surprise: my epic-fantasy-BYU-newbie-author version of the classic Fiddler on the Roof song which I called “If I Were Published.” Dylan Rowe, a student in the class with some serious violin chops, practiced with me in secret, then accompanied me during the performance. He was great. And the performance went well. We all had a great time. There’s a recording. Once I get it, I’ll post it here.

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    Dear Lord, you made many, many unpublished writers.
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    But it’s no great honor, either.
    So what would have been so terrible if I had one small best-selling series?

    [Dylan began to play and I began to sing]

    If I were published,
    Yaba dibba dibba dibba digguh deedle daidle dum.
    All day long I’d biddy-biddy-bum
    If I were a published man

    Wouldn’t have to work hard,
    Yaba dibba dibba dibba digguh deedle daidle dum.
    If I were a biddy biddy pub
    digguh deedle daidle published man

    I’d write a big long epic–hundreds of characters!
    Swords and dragons and a lot of gore
    A snot-nosed lad who was prophesied for the fight

    There’d be a quest to one far side of the map
    And one to find a lovely ancient lore
    And one more leading out into the blight

    [I paused here, to think, then sang the tune to the last line again with the first four of these]

    To meet a sprite,
    and a dark knight,
    with an old birth right,
    read by moon light,
    that … cures snake bite.

    [Dylan produced a big scratch. I covered my eyes in shame.]

    Oy! Bad story development.

    I’d see my wife, my Nellie,
    Looking like a rich man’s wife,
    with a proper golden skin,
    rolling out the yoga mats to her heart’s delight.

    I’d see her driving the kids
    in something other than a minivan
    Oy! What a happy mood she’s in!
    Posting perfect selfies to day and night.

    Hordes of bright-eyed zoobie writers will come to fawn on me.
    They will ask me to advise them,
    like Sanderson the Wise.
    “If you please, Mister Brown?”
    “Pardon me, Mister Brown?”
    Posing problems that would cross a Shakespeare’s eyes
    Ya da dee da dum, ya dah da dum

    And it won’t make one bit of difference
    if I answer right or wrong.
    When you’re published they think you really know.

    If I were published, I’d have the time that I lack
    to go to the temple and to pray,
    seated in a corner of the celestial room.
    And I would serve on projects building Enoch’s Zion
    from here to Africa and beyond.
    And that would be the sweetest thing of all

    Oy!

    If I were pub-lished.
    Yaba dibba dibba dibba digguh deedle daidle dum.
    All day long I’d biddy-biddy-bum
    if I were a published man.

    Wouldn’t have to work hard.
    Yaba dibba dibba dibba digguh deedle daidle dum.
    Lord who made the lion and the lamb,
    You decreed I should be what I am.
    Would it spoil some vast, eternal plan,
    if I were a pub-lished man?

    Limericks

    I took a bunch of copies as my books as gifts to support the good cause of entertaining hard-working students. But there was a twist. To get a book, they had to pay me one limerick. It could be about anything and of any quality. But it needed to be a limerick. They had, like, 5 minutes to write one at the end. Thirty-three souls came up with the payment. Here they are for your enjoyment.

    1.
    A writer, a publisher, and a poet,
    And now, wouldn’t you know it,
    They’re debating a comma,
    and imagine the drama,
    When they’re divided on just how to cull it

    2.
    There once was a class of fiction
    Which had a stranger take up his position
    He was quite amusing
    He kept them from snoozing
    For he had quite a talent for diction.

    3.
    John Brown’s book could be greatness
    I hope it’ll be a hit, not a miss
    Your lecture was great,
    It did not stagnate
    I hope you will great me my wish! (to get your book)

    4.
    I want to write a book that is fun
    where an evil something kills someone
    And the people will fail
    ‘Til the heroes prevail
    But I fear I will never be done.

    5.
    I’m trying to write my own book.
    But, if you now went to look
    I fear you will find
    It’s all in my mind
    But, oh – all the effort it took!

    6.
    There once was a poodle named Paddle
    whose fur was cut into a saddle
    until in the park
    he ate too much bark
    And now his tight fur is a battle.

    7.
    There was a young woman whose head
    Had eyes that looked dead
    As boys approached her,
    Her sharp tongue they started to stir
    Filling others with dread

    8.
    A poet sat twiddling his thumbs
    He felt his ideas were dumb.
    He was lacking in time
    But just couldn’t rhyme
    So he loosened his thoughts with some rum.

    9.
    “In honor of your song”
    “You know I’d really love to be published
    Oh, the glam and the glory I would relish
    The hordes of fans my mind’s eye can see-
    Sanderson with John Brown bowing to me –
    And don’t (?) tell me my dreams are embellished”

    10.
    Homework I do not much like, you see
    But for your book a lim’rick it be
    and so i must do,
    with great thanks to you,
    this my small bit of lame poetry

    11.
    There once was a boy named John
    Who needed to mow the lawn.
    He pulled on the rope
    But oh, what a dope!
    Alas, the gas was all gone!

    12.
    Guardian Angel Limerick
    I’ve struggled to write since the phone call,
    when the maybe’s, the what-if’s turned actual
    and the grieving stretched on
    till the morn she was gone
    and the world lost, but I gained, an angel.

    The note with that one: “I was the girl who asked if the limericks had to be funny. Thank you for coming to class and giving us the books. I’ve included my limerick below. My mother passed away a couple weeks ago. This is my tribute to my loudest cheerleader and my harshest critic.” Boy, I’m definitely honored to have this one.

    13.
    There was a young man from Pocatello
    Who thought that he was a brave fellow
    But one dark, dark night
    He took quite a fright,
    And found that he was quite, quite yellow.

    14.
    There once was a sorcerer bloke
    Who traveled outside for a smoke
    He yawned, “curse this day”
    And that is to say
    The incantation now was spoke

    15.
    There once was a ship fresh-moored
    With my favorite couple on board
    But despite the large fanon
    It was destroyed by the canon
    And my ship, sunk quick, sailed no more

    16.
    There once was a sad unicorn
    Who had tragically lost his gold horn
    And thus ran away
    and still to this day,
    He stands but a horse all forlorn

    17.
    There once was a grandma so old
    on her birthday she had a bad cold
    as she blew out her candles
    her kids yelled, “Mad scandal!”
    as her dentures flew into the mould

    18.
    There once was a cat named caterer
    who keeps running into the mirror
    we got her some glasses
    form the shopping masses
    and now she sees everything clearer

    19.
    There once was a dust speck named Mike
    Who lived on the edge of a spike.
    He was bumped off that edge,
    then snagged on some sedge,
    ending up on the wheel of a bike

    20.
    I am a cat who is hip.
    Who likes to shoot from the lip.
    My songs are all crude.
    My stories are lewd.
    I like to make reality flip.

    21.
    There once was a bunny named Mopey
    Who had friends that were silly and dopey.
    They hopped on a train
    That took them to Maine
    Where someone threw them in a bath that was soapy

    22.
    I want something to teach me to cook
    but this sure and that kind of a book
    but bore shadiz tes (yeah, couldn’t read it, dang it)
    and this sure seems fair
    So now I guess I should take a look

    23.
    There once was a man named John
    Who put his books out to pawn
    Some students one day,
    Wrote limericks to say,
    “We love your free books–give us one.”

    24.
    My mother wanted to get a book,
    And she gave me that terrible look.
    A limerick the price,
    I wrote one down twice,
    So please give me that sought after book.

    25.
    There once was a man named Lam
    Who like to eat lots of Spam.
    When the aliens came
    He cooked them a meal
    And so his soul they did not steal

    26.
    There once was a tiger named Ted
    He went to town in a bed.
    Jeep in the rustle
    He spotted a tussle
    And now he has bumps on his head.

    27.
    Once I tried writing haiku;
    it seemed like a fun thing to do.
    But I fumbled the timing,
    and couldn’t stop rhyming,
    and now this haiku is just poo.

    28.
    Once I was writing a sonnet
    But my paper hand not a word on it.
    I sat there confused,
    My talents unused,
    Because nothing else rhymes except “bonnet”.

    29.
    I love me a good paper book
    But the digital have a nice look
    Shopped for a kindle all day,
    Tried to buy on eBay,
    But, somehow I just have a Nook.

    30.
    There once was a man with pink hair
    And all he ever got were rude stares.
    He said, “I know that I’m hot.
    There’s no need to gawk.
    Goodbye.” And left with great flair.

    31.
    There once was a lobster named Clyde
    Who was inexplicably snide.
    But he had some bad luck,
    from the sea he was plucked
    and now he’s been battered and fried.

    32.
    I was once walking home on the street
    When a woman, I happened to meet
    I said to her, “Hey.”
    She said to me, “Nay.”
    So I went out and bought me a treat.

    33.
    Tetris is the very best game
    My playing will put you to shame
    See… I am the best
    Put it to the test
    One day it may lead me to fame.

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  • Washington Irving, Family, & Writing

    ByJohn Brown

    How do writers juggle writing and family?

    One of my heroes is Mary Higgins Clark who, as a single mom, started a career. She got up very early, wrote for 1-2 hours in the morning, and became a mega-seller.

    I have four girls. And a full-time job. When the first two were little my wife was working and I was Mr. Mom going to school. Then we switched.

    Here’s my experience. While I love writing, my stories do not run to me and give me wonderful strangling hugs after school like my youngest. While I laugh at the humor I come up with in my stories and enjoy it, it cannot replace the uncontrollable giggling I experience when I go on dates with my second. While writing lifts me, it does not fill my office with notes and wallpapers of love like my oldest. And writing never drags me out to play ghosts in the graveyard or hide and seek–daughter #3. Nor will my stories and novels be there for me when I’m old.

    While writing is incredibly fulfilling, my wife, kids, and other relationships are a joy it cannot replace.

    What all this means is that I try to recognize that I can’t let family and writing compete. They can’t be equal priorities. Family comes first. But this doesn’t mean I don’t write. I block out times to write. These are my writing times. I get up early to make time for this. I don’t watch a lot of TV. I don’t read a million blogs, nor, alas, can I read fiction at the level I used to. I make time. But I also make blocks when I just forget writing (even though it can be hard).

    Specifically, here’s my average work week.

    5:00 AM rise, wake and get centered for the day
    6:00 AM work (“work” is my day job and writing)
    6:30 AM family and breakfast
    7:30 AM go to work (at home). Try to get in 7-8 hours at day job and 2 hours writing. When I did commute I wrote for 1 hour during lunch and 1 hour in the morning before I went to work. Then I’d take a 2 hour block on Thursdays.
    5:30 PM family etc.
    9:30 PM bed

    On Saturdays I get a few more hours writing. Sunday I forget everything but family.

    With the new book contract I have to become a bit more creative. But if it ever comes down to sacrifice the last 2 years of my oldest being at home and writing, well, the books will go.

    When my writing plans meet reality, I try to adjust and find other slots for writing. It wasn’t easy in the beginning, but it’s become much easier. And I don’t worry about what I might have accomplished in writing if I’d just had the extra time. Such what-if’s, I’ve found, are almost always poisonous. And who the heck cares? Because while I want to write wonderful stories, I think the greatest loss I think I might experience at the end of my life (believing in an after life or not) is looking back and seeing that I traded the opportunity for wonderful relationships for a rapidly mouldering spot on the shelves.

    Washington Irving wrote a funny and wonderful piece on this mouldering in his “The Mutability of Literature” in THE SKETCHBOOK OF GEOFFERY CRAYON. I recommend every writer read this to put life and writing into perspective.

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