And like life, I believe that a lot of determining time and place depends a great deal on the current events and the current population. Sitting at a bar with a few girlfriends and some frilly, umbrella-embellished adult beverages could be an appropriate time to discuss the skill level required for truly mind-blowing fellatio.  Sitting at the Sunday dinner table with my daughter and her new boyfriend, not so much. At work in the cafeteria with my boss, perhaps even less so. Time and place; it really does make all the difference.

The first litmus test I’m going to apply to including sexual situations is plot. Does the fact that John’s Tab A was inserted into Jane’s Slot B matter to the story? This applies especially when considering the sheet tango between secondary characters. Is the plot going to fall apart if we don’t know about these goings-on? And if we must know they did the deed; could we get by with knowing it happened without the actual mechanics applied?

There is an addendum to this little litmus, and that involves the romance genre. The quickest way to get your editor to pull their hair out over a romance novel is to politely close the door for the main couple to consummate in private. But notice that this still aligns with the question of importance to the plot? In a romance novel, guy-meets-girl is the point, and so their love connection is definitely relevant. And the mechanics are vicariously important to the reader.

The next test is just that: Your audience. How much “mushy stuff” does your audience want to know about? The level is going to be rather high for your romance and western genres, but not so much your spy thriller or robot science fiction. I’m not saying that sex doesn’t get involved in these other types of stories. I’m saying the level of involvement is different. A romance novel wants to know every gory detail from the first fight, to the roses of apology, to which hand he puts on which knee when he makes his move. A spy novel is likely more a quick drink, a fancy locale, a passionate kiss, and then pan to the woman all mussed and wrapped in a bed sheet as the man straightens his cuff links and leaves to save the world. It’s about expectation. If you buy a ticket for a slasher-flick horror movie, you don’t want to see When Harry Met Sally.

And the final test is you, the writer. How comfortable do you feel talking about sex? How comfortable do you feel having someone know you wrote about sex? Say you’re on the bus coming home from work, and while chatting up someone you find they have read the book you wrote. Can you handle hearing, “Hey, that one scene in the bedroom—that was hot!”

It’s okay to feel a little uncomfortable about it; that goes back to the whole time and place thing. And it’s unrealistic to think you will never have to talk about people having sex—unless you write children’s books.  People have sex, so it’s probably going to come up somewhere in your story. The point is you don’t have to sell it out for cheap thrills. Make it matter, and make it appropriate to your story, your audience, and you.

So, I spent a long weekend that was supposed to be used catching up on my writing either sleeping or sitting around in a daze blowing my nose. And, feeling guilty about not writing; I could barely form a coherent thought and all I wanted was to breathe clear enough to go back to sleep, but I felt bad because I wasn’t writing. I did, a few days later, finally get a little writing done. But it got me thinking about all the guilt that writers associate with their writing.

First thing, one thing all writers are truly professional at is finding things to do other than writing. People who have to pay their bills from their writing, and a few scarce others, find ways to work around the procrastination skills. But we all have it. I can spend three days cleaning my house from top to bottom, and still feel an urge to vacuum the second I sit down to write. Or check in on Facebook. Or spend just a half an hour on a video game. Oh, video games are my time doom.

And even if we do actually get some writing done, it’s not enough. Not enough time, not enough words for the time, not enough quality for the words. The guilt just won’t stop. We may find a day or two of surcease, but that is a rare angel indeed.

But here’s the really odd thing: when we do find the time and energy, when we get the words on page—even for something like this blog—the feeling is ecstatic. I slap my forehead and grin ear-to-ear and wonder why in the heck I hadn’t just sat down and done it earlier! I promise that I will immediately resume this wonderful feeling of fingers to keys. I am renewed and rejuvenated. I am restless and can’t sleep for the need of the joy from the word-induced drug.

I don’t have any solutions for this. Persevere x infinity. I just had to explain that we’re all a little crazy, but we do our best.

Do you see a pattern, there? If it fits into the story, the reader will go along. Even if it is not something the reader would normally be into. Think of it as a sort of story-related peer pressure; the story is a group of popular kids, and if they make something look like a lot of fun, the reader will be swept along in the moment.

When I went back and read the reviews, I found that quite a few reviews were critical of the book for not having enough strong female characters. Now, don’t revoke my female membership, here. I am just as much a proponent of moving away from the shrieking, running through the forest in high heels character as the next girl. But I disagreed with the reviews. I didn’t think that the story called for a female, strong or otherwise. The basic story was about two guys being friends and being there for each other, a story of fraternity.

So I thought I would compare it for a moment to another book(s) that is an obvious choice when looking for a dearth of strong female characters, The Lord of the Rings. Nothing against Tolkien, strong female characters were not with the times when he wrote them, and he does have a few sideline characters with both wisdom and breasts. But the basic root of the story, beyond the fellowship and saving the world and all that, it is a story of two men. Would the story have been better if Samwise or Frodo had been female? I really don’t think so. And, if it wouldn’t have improved the story, why do it?

Are we so caught up in political correctness that every story must be populated with at least one of every diverse “type?” Doesn’t that then make us guilty of tokenism? Can’t someone tell a story about guy friends? When Steel Magnolias came out, were there cries about a lack of strong male characters? Go ahead, imagine Bruce Willis storming through the living room window in Steel Magnolias.

My point here is, of course, that you should try to keep your characters as diverse as the world around you, as long as it is supported by your story. Everything should be relevant to your story.

The story features two main characters, both are good, and both are evil. What? Yeah, you heard me correctly. They are both good and evil. So, what does this make them? The protagonist or the antagonist? What this makes them, truly, is believable.

One character is a lawyer, a public defender. He’s a power-hungry ladder-climber who wants to get to the top and enjoy the fine things in life. He wants power, and he wants to use his power. He is all ego. He cuts deals with murderers, and only takes the cases he can win, because he wants to look like a stud. His view of justice is compartmentalized and convenient.

But, he’s also a family man. Loving and faithful to his wife and his daughter. Good to his friends and co-workers. And he is working against the clock and against his own ego to outwit someone who is trying in the madness of their own grief to kill off a lot of people.

The second man is a loving and devoted family man. Something of a genius tinker, he supports his family with his inventions and he makes sure he’s around to spend quality time. By complete coincidence, his house is chosen for a home invasion, and he is beaten and duct-taped-hog-tied. He watches as his wife is raped and murdered, and then as his young daughter is killed. Left with nothing, he watches the justice system bargain and deal his loss and tragedy into a few paltry years.

But he is also a government contract killer, using technology and his inventions to murder people the government wants gone but can’t get to for the job on their own. He takes ten years to build a scheme to cleanse what he sees is the evil from the justice system. He kills off the men who invaded his home and killed his family. He kills off the defense attorney and the judge. He kills off the legal team who support the district attorney. And he is about to kill off every major politician in his city when the other character of this dichotomy finally catches up to him.

These characters will stay with me for a long time.  Because they are entirely believable. This is, of course, an extreme example of making your characters human. Most of the time you will have a clear antagonist and protagonist.  Your protagonist may have a drinking problem, but he’ll still be a good guy. He’ll be on the right side of things and any deviations are within standard acceptability to the general public. He toes the line.

But also, and here we are finally to my point, the villain is not completely evil. If you want believability, you have to move away from Disney and Maleficent. No one wakes up and thinks “How can I further my evil plans and kill some babies in a dastardly fashion today?” Who the hell would believe that? And if you don’t believe it, you can’t care about it.

I think a better example–if somewhat silly–is on The Simpsons, when Homer gets a job working for the evil villain Scorpio, who just happens to be the best boss Homer ever had. Villains who are just slightly twisted but still human make for better reading.

And on that note, it’s time for me to get my laundry out of the dryer.

Have a fun day!

I’m going to try this whole blog thing. See what it’s about. There’s been a lot of fuss at work lately, and I know a few folks who are making side-bucks writing blogs for the professional people who are too busy (and can’t string a sentence together to save their souls). So, I thought, I have thoughts folks might be interested in. I am capable–most times–of stringing sentences together. And I have this great new purple netbook. Let’s see what we can get going on, already.

The first point I would like to make is about character. I don’t think you can really call a story good (and I’m speaking story generally and inclusively, here) unless the characters are solid. And I think a solid character is someone who is ordinary in almost every way. For me to connect with them, I have to think that I could meet them on the bus. They have to be the guy in line behind me buying a sammich for lunch. Otherwise, I just don’t really give a damn about what’s happening to them.

That’s the other part of the equation, of course. Something extraordinary has to happen to them. Because, of course, although I want him to be the guy in line behind me buying a sammich, I don’t want to read about him buying a sammich. I can just go to buy my sammich if I want to see that.

So there we have the essence of story: Ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances.

My problem here, recently, is really a very common one. Common mostly for first timer writers. But when I see it in established authors, it just makes me grind my teeth. I’ve read a couple of horror books by this supposedly well-established author (no, not Stephen King, I adore him. Okay, most of him). I’m not going to name names or titles, I don’t want to start a writer pissing match, I want to talk about story.

Anyway, this author obviously has a lot of issues with sex and women. That’s his cross to bear, if you will. I see it, and I can kind of get past it. As long as it can reasonably weave into the story, I can cope.  But all of his characters–with very few notable exceptions, which we’ll talk about in a minute–are perfect. They have perfect bodies, perfect hair, dress perfectly, and everyone wants to be with them always. There is never a man who doesn’t have every woman crushing on him; and never a female that doesn’t have every man crushing on them, always. Do you know anyone like this? Seriously? Even the incredibly gorgeous folks I know do not have EVERY person crushing on them EVERY time.

Further, do you want to read about someone like this? Does a person that damn perfect interest you? Can you relate to them? I can’t. They’re just not real. And, if they’re not real, then what happens to them doesn’t matter. Because that’s not real, either.  Sure, I know a story is not real. But there has to be a chance that it could be real, in order for me to care.

His exceptions are the other end of the spectrum. They are the bad or undesirable characters. They are, without fail, fat. They are uncouth. They are without a saving grace. They are gross. His disgust for these characters oozes out of every adjective. And they are usually the villains. Do you know anyone like that? Me neither. Can you care about or relate to or even reasonably be concerned about someone like that? Nope, not me.

So, in closing, so I can get my tired old bones to bed and finish off my work week tomorrow, make your characters average. Love them with the patience and wisdom of a grandparent. Never, ever, try to make a perfect character. At least, not if you want your story read.

G’night, all.