Jack Cavanaugh's WORD FORGE

Welcome to the WORD FORGE

                                                                                                       Photo by Tom Murphy

The WORD FORGE is a working writer's studio open to all who love fiction and who are committed to honing their fiction skills. I want the WORD FORGE to be a place where writers hammer out their stories on the anvil of excellence.

An old establishment in Oxford, England inspired the creation of this blog, The Eagle and The Child pub (interior pictured above).

Years ago, if you were to wander into this pub on Tuesday around midday, you might hear C. S. Lewis reading from his current work in progress, Out of the Silent Planet; or J. R. R. Tolkien reading from a handwritten manuscript of Lord of the Rings; or Charles Williams, his supernatural thriller, All Hallow’s Eve. 

They called themselves The Inklings.

Trust me, this was no mutual admiration society. Yes, they were friends, but Tolkein was frequently wounded by Lewis's critiques of middle-earth, while he himself was an outspoken critic of Narnia. The interaction of these wordsmiths, coupled with dogged perseverance, drove them to excellence. 

The result? Epic stories in completely different styles, each having spirited millions of readers off to adventures in mythical lands.

This blog is a collection of my writing workshops over the past two decades. Here, you will be exposed to time-honored fiction techniques from the masters, past and present — Victor Hugo, Robert Louis Stevenson, Isaac Asimov, Steven King, and a host of others — along with techniques I've learned in my three decades of writing experience. I offer these blogs with the hope that they will help you craft stories for a new generation of readers who are using a new generation of reading devices.

And I hope you'll share some of your own experiences and lessons in the comments sections. 

Bottom line: It’s all about story. James Michener nailed it when he wrote in his autobiography —

“I cannot forsee what form the book, which has been so precious to me, will take in the next century. But I am positive that regardless of how the narrative is circulated, the men or women who can create it will continue to be invaluable.  The art of the storyteller is historically precious and I am proud to have pursued it.”

If you love the company of writers and are committed to crafting quality fiction, you’re in the right place. Pull up a chair and let’s get to work.

 

 

Can Any Good Come from Writers Conferences?

When I teach at writers conferences, I often teach from lists—

• 8 Things a Reader Expects from a Novel
• 4 Elements of the All-Important First Chapter
• 3 Powerful Plot Structures

Lists make for precise communication in a writers conference setting and conferees love it; so much so, many conference directors require printed listening sheets from their faculty which are assembled into an impressive three-ring binder and handed to every conferee at registration.

The problem with writers conferences is that aspiring novelists are given the impression that if they faithfully follow every step on workshop lists they’ll get published, and that bestselling novelists are those who have mastered these lists.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

This is why I begin my novel workshops with a quote from novelist Somerset Maugham —

“There are three rules for writing a novel.
Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.”

Which begs the question: Can any good come from conference notebooks, plot outlines, and books on writing fiction?

O my, yes.

It is from instruction that we are exposed to the basics of writing fiction. Lists help fledgling novelists bring order to the myriad bits of dialogue and setting and character traits and scenes and plot points that are swirling around in their heads.

However, creating order out of chaos is but a first step toward creating art and, make no mistake, writing a novel is an art form, not a fill-in-the-blank exercise. To become a novelist, you must go beyond the lists.

Years ago, when I was getting started, Linda Holland, my first editor, offered a piece of advice that has been invaluable to me. She said, “Jack, trust your instincts.”

It’s one of the best pieces of advice I can offer another writer.

Study your craft. Review the lists. Become as familiar with plot outlines as a chess master is with opening gambits. But when it comes to telling your story—trust your instincts.

An Unpopular, Invaluable Life Lesson

Stress. It’s part of living. Has been since Adam and Eve stood over the lifeless body of their son, knowing their other son was the murderer.

Not long ago an author was doing the talk-show circuit promoting his latest book which was based on a startling new study that revealed a world-wide epidemic of stress.

Shocking.

You want to hear something shocking?

What do you do when you’re under a lot of stress? Most people pray for relief, right? But what if God responded, “I know you’re under a lot of stress lately. I’m the one causing it.”

That’s basically what God told Jeremiah when He sent the prophet to observe a potter (Jeremiah 18:1-6). In this object lesson, God said He was the potter, we’re the clay. And the Hebrew word used to describe what the potter does to the clay? Distress. The potter distresses the clay when he—

• pounds out the impurities;
• molds the clay into all manner of unnatural shapes the clay would never know if not for the potter;
• then, after all this distressing, he places the clay in the fire.

 The result? The clay emerges as a suitable vessel for the Master’s use. Without the distress, the clay would forever be nothing more than a useless lump.

That’s the unpopular part of the lesson. The invaluable part is embracing it. As did—

Peter: Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. (I Peter 4:12)

James: Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing. (James 1:2-4)

Paul: …we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character, and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us… (Romans 5:3-5)

 

Be patient in failure,

Encouraged by setbacks;

It’s the struggle that makes us strong.

 

Fiction Stretching Exercise

SOMETIMES YOU STRETCH your storytelling muscles just for fun.

A few years ago I participated in a writing exercise with some friends. Each of us was given the following outline with instructions to write a scene in our given genre. Mine was historical. Here's what we were handed—

A man walks into a room occupied by two women. One he loves, one he hates. He utters one line, then exits. One of the women then follows him.

Years earlier I'd remembered reading about a rather dubious honor related to the burial of Egyptian royalty. I'd jotted the information down in my notebook thinking it might someday make a good scene.

Pairing the history with the outline, here's the story I wrote—

Earning a Rep

Joseph, a Levite from Cyprus, whom the apostles called Barnabas
(which means Son of Encouragement), sold a field he owned
and brought the money and put it at the apostles' feet.
                                                                                                  — Acts 4:36-37

HIS NAME WAS JOSEPH, but everyone knew him as The Encourager. It was a name born of a reputation.

It was Barnabas who took a chance on the newly converted Paul, ushering him into the midst of a roomful of disciples. It was a gutsy move. If Paul's conversion had been a ruse Barnabas would have handed over Christianity's core leadership to their greatest enemy, and the name Barnabas would be synonymous with Benedict Arnold. But Barnabas did what Barnabas’s do. He encouraged. If he hadn’t, there might not have been an Apostle Paul.

Eventually Paul overshadowed Barnabas. There is no indication that Barnabas was troubled by this. I think that's what I like best about him. It has been said that the hardest instrument to play is second fiddle. But without second fiddle players, there is no harmony.

What’s in a nickname? Or, to paraphrase Shakespeare:
Stinky, by any other nickname, would smell just as bad.

Other disciples had nicknames. Most notably, James and John, who were dubbed the Sons of Thunder. Maybe the fact that they asked Jesus to call down fire from heaven and destroy a Samaritan village for refusing them passage had something to do with it.

A nickname can be a shortened version of your proper name, an endearment, or a term of derision. While your proper name is given to you by your parents long before you begin exhibiting distinguishing characteristics, a nickname is often bestowed by others based on observation (rightly or wrongly).

Do you have a nickname? Are you happy with it? If not, why not try this — make up a nickname for yourself, a name you would like others to call you. Don't tell anybody. Then, start acting in a way that is true to the nickname you've chosen for yourself. Be patient. It takes a while to earn a reputation, to earn the right to wear your nickname. But with persistence, trust me, that day will come.

Linking Minds Across Space and Time

 

 

 

 

 

READING IS SPOOKY. So spooky, in fact, there was a time when reading silently—something every elementary school child is taught to do today—was considered witchcraft.

A brief history of storytelling will explain:

The first stories were spoken, told around campfires, by illiterate bards to an illiterate audience, and passed from generation to generation through repeated telling. (It seems that even in ancient times evening entertainment was plagued by reruns.) The telling of stories was mystical. Men would gather around the fire as the storyteller's words conjured up images in their minds as if by magic.

Stories took on shape and color when the ancients began illustrating them with paintings on cave walls. But the visuals lacked significant detail, such as the names of heroes and significant places. Storytellers filled in the gaps. (Think slide shows and PowerPoint presentations.) Paintings provided something stories told around the campfire lacked. Permanency.

Then, storytelling took a quantum leap forward as glyphs morphed into words, combining the detail of the spoken story with the permanency of cave paintings. Stories recorded on vellum and parchment could be told with precision, each telling the same as before.

That's when something spooky happened.