How D&D Can Help You Create Great Characters

It’s hard to believe that Dungeons & Dragons was once the most controversial game in existence. What started as an exercise in creativity and team-building became fuel for the 1980’s Satanic Panic.

Today, D&D has a more mundane reputation. The name conjures images of bespectacled nerds dressed in wizard robes sitting around a table in a basement. But for me, D&D is the secret weapon in my creative arsenal.

Different writing skills are like muscles; the more you exercise them, the stronger they get. D&D is great for writers who have trouble connecting with their characters. In the game, you assume the identity of your character and consider what they would do, how they’d react, and what’d they say based on the foundations you’ve laid for them.

It’s essentially a lesson in improv. You’ll be surprised by all the funny – and, if you really get into it, emotionally deep – moments these characters will take you through.

As an example, in one game a player’s character was bitten by a zombie-like creature. Several bad dice rolls later, her character became infected with an always-fatal illness known as the Blight. Suddenly all of our characters were faced with a hard choice: do we give her a quick death, let her suffer, or try to cure it? Would they be upset, scared of being infected, or in denial?

This was a conflict that arose entirely from dice rolls, but it added a new facet to my character that I hadn’t even previously considered. I was forced to analyze my character’s personality and decide how she would react to such a dire situation. In the end, our group came up with a plan- cut off the character’s arm before the infection spread.

That’s just something writing just can’t give you. Adding in a bit of random chance can teach you a lot about your characters- and about yourself. I can’t recommend D&D enough. It’s a good creative exercise, but it’s also an amazing way to build lasting friendships.

As for the Blight-stricken character, she survived. The group compensated for her missing arm by building her a prosthetic- fitted with a crossbow.

4 Ways to Think of New Story Ideas

Everyone is familiar with writer’s block, where every single word you have learned disappears the moment you try to work on something. But writer’s block has a friend- idea block.

Sometimes thinking of things to write about seems damn near impossible. Here are a couple of tried and true methods I like to use to overcome that idea block:

1. The odd couple. Take two unrelated subjects, topics, or ideas and put them together. For example, Stephen King’s Carrie: outcast teenage girl + telepathy. It’s a simple yet surprisingly effective formula.
2. Frankenstein’s monster. Here’s some advice you don’t hear often: steal ideas. Don’t plagiarize, of course, but take inspiration from the stories you love. Enjoy dinosaurs the from Jurassic Park, the epic battles in Lord of the Rings, and Game of Thrones’s complicated political intrigue? Create a story set in a magical medieval society that uses dinosaurs for labor, war, and companionship.
3. Truth is stranger than fiction. Use your experiences as jumping off points for stories. Who was that eccentric-looking person you passed in the store yesterday? What would have happened if you hadn’t been found that time you got lost in the woods? Reality often provides us with all the material we need for new stories.
4. Back off. Sometimes, there’s just no forcing these things. Stop trying to make new inventive ideas happen and give yourself a break. Do things that might spark your creativity: listen to music, read a new book, take a walk. Taking the stress off of yourself might be just what you need to think of a great new short story.

Book Review: The Outsider

The Outsider is a classic return-to-form for Stephen King: a small town, some dark secrets, and a horrifying monster thrown in for good measure. It’s what he’s known for, and damn does he do it well.

I didn’t just read this book, I devoured it. The book begins by building the evidence against one Terry Maitland, a little league coach accused of sexually assaulting and murdering a young boy. The case seems to be ironclad. When King has you doubting Maitland’s innocence, he turns and knocks it all down again.

The first half of the book reads like a police procedural thriller; it focuses largely on the gathering and examination of the evidence and the process of building a case. Things take a turn towards horror in the second half of the book. For some, this tonal shift was a bit jarring and disappointing. For me, it was a delight. I think it just depends on the type of story you want to get out of this. If you’re looking for a thriller that stays firmly grounded in reality, I’d pass on this one.

The story is tight, cohesive, and well-told. My only true criticism is with the characters themselves. The protagonist, Ralph Anderson, is a bit boring in my opinion. He’s a cop. That’s all that can really be said for him. The character that truly shines is Holly, who appeared in King’s Mr. Mercedes. I adored her, and found her to be a much more compelling protagonist. Sadly, she doesn’t appear until about halfway into the story.

Other than the antagonist – who, for the sake of spoilers, I am going to leave shrouded in mystery – Holly is the only character I truly remember. Most of the other players lack life and memorability. However, the story is strong enough to make up for it. The Outsider isn’t a character-driven novel, and that works for me. If you’re looking for in-depth character analysis, give this one a pass. 

Overall, I adored this book. I plan on going back and reading some of King’s works; stay tuned for reviews of books that are older than I am!

Final Scores

Story: 10

Character: 6

Overall: 9

 

 

 

A Writer’s Greatest Ally

It is a commonly accepted fact in the writing community that good writers read. A lot.

I’m not one to beat a dead horse. If you’re a writer, chances are you probably know that you should be reading. I have a different, though slightly related, soapbox to mount. Writers: go to your local libraries.

If you’re someone who already does this, congratulations! Feel free to close this blog and reward yourself with a cup of tea, coffee, or an $8 Starbucks frappuccino. As for the rest of you, buckle up. This is why you need to be hitting the library.

No Price Tag

Books can get expensive, especially if you’re like me. I have a tendency to hoard books like a dragon might hoard gold or princesses. If someone sets me loose in a book store I’m not leaving until I have 2-3 new books. Then I set my new prizes on my shelf, promising myself I’ll start reading them soon…and then never do. For those keeping score at home- that’s $30 to $60 just spent on books I might not touch for weeks, months, or even years.

Libraries are a great way to scratch the reading itch without breaking the bank. My local library allows you to check out up to 45 books at a time. You can renew books, place holds, and request books online. Late fees max out at $6 per book. The library itself has free Wi-Fi and printing services. There are weekly and monthly events for kids, teens, and adults. And it’s free.

That’s insane.

Going to the library can save you literal thousands of dollars in books alone. Plus the idea of late fees might motivate you to actually, you know, read the damn thing. To see how much money your library could save you, check out this nifty little calculator.

Expand Your Horizons

When I go to a bookstore, I’m very picky about what I buy. I don’t want to spend money on a book I’ll end up hating. I once spent $15 only to discover in the first few chapters that the protagonist was a rapist. This, for me, was an immediate deal-breaker. But I still paid for the privilege to read two full chapters.

My disposable income is limited; since my money is on the line at a store, I stay well within the realm of books I know I’ll like. In a library, there is no financial risk. If I don’t like a book, I can just return it and get another one. I’m much more likely to explore new authors and new genres when I go to the library.

Exploring genres, authors, and styles can only improve your own writing. It forces you to look at things from a new perspective and can spark ideas you wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. Go to your local library. Pick out a book from a genre you rarely read and give it a go. You might like it. If not, so what? It was a free book!

Support a Vital Service

Libraries do so much for their communities. They provide internet access to those who wouldn’t otherwise have it. I’ve seen people filling out job applications and printing off resumes at the library.  Kids go there to do homework that they can’t do at their houses. It’s a quiet environment where people can get work done or just relax.

The classes they offer can help with anything from healthy living to specific skills such as sewing. They do reading challenges for kids to encourage literacy- something that makes them more likely to succeed later in life.

When you visit your local library, you’re helping them secure their future funding to keep their doors open. Get out there. Read. Find books you love, find some that you hate. Your local librarian will thank you for it.

Why I Write

I think it’s fitting to begin this blog with the story of how I discovered my love of writing. Every author gets their start somewhere- for me, it was at C.E. Hanna Elementary School on the day of the Grandparents’ Assembly.

A couple of weeks before the big Grandparents’ Day Assembly, the school hosted and essay-writing competition. We were to write about an “older person” in our life, describing why we’re thankful for them. I immediately thought of my maternal grandmother, Nana.

I loved all my grandparents, but I was especially close with Nana. At the time we lived three minutes away from her house. I spent my afternoons doing spelling homework at the kitchen table while Sean Hannity ranted and raved from the radio on top of the fridge. She kept bite-sized Snickers in the fridge. I would chew away on the cold chocolate and caramel while she sipped her Diet Coke. (To this day, I don’t think I recall seeing her drink anything else. Not even water.)

My essay came directly from the heart. The focal point, as I remember it, was a trip to the Chattanooga Aquarium. I described the fish, the tiny manta rays I touched, the shark Nana coaxed me into looking at. I wrote about how much Nana meant to me. All of my love dripped out of my little heart and on to that paper. Then, I handed in the essay and forgot about it.

Mrs. Martin, my fourth grade teacher, called me over when she finished going through the essays. She handed me back mine It was in a bright yellow folder that I turned in all of my work. My name was written clumsily in pink marker.

“Your essay made me cry,” she said. “It was so sweet.”

“Really?” I said. I was shocked. All I’d done was write the truth.

“I’m selecting you as the winner for the class,” she said.

I’d advanced to the next stage of the competition. Each class chose a winner, then a winner was selected for the grade. That winner would get to read their essay aloud at the assembly. My essay was chosen to represent the 4th grade.

The assembly took up the better part of the day. Students, parents, little siblings, and grandparents crowded into C.E. Hanna’s decaying gym. I think there was a whole program, including a choral performance. Then came the readings.

I was second-to-last, meaning I squirmed and silently rushed the other students in my mind. One girl read her essay in both English and Spanish, as her grandmother only spoke the latter. In my mind her reading took at least a decade.

Then it was my turn. I stepped up to the podium. (They set up stairs so we could reach the mic) and laid out the carefully typed version of my essay. I noted with annoyance that Mrs. Martin made some minor edits; I considered skipping over them on principle, because I hadn’t written them. (I would remain very resistant to the idea of an editor until I was in high school.) But I read the whole thing in full.

When I finished, I looked up and found my family in the crowd. My mom and Nana sat on the very front row. My Nana had a Kleenex – she always kept a pack in her purse – pressed against her face. She wasn’t crying. She was sobbing. My mother’s eyes were red. Tears streaked down her face, but she smiled and clapped as hard as she could.

It stunned me. Even now I can still see my Nana: her slightly bent back, her carefully styled white hair, her thin bony hands holding that Kleenex. She gave me a tight hug afterwards- the longest and tightest I can remember.

My words did that. Something I wrote moved my grandmother and mother to happy tears. Nana never forgot that essay. She never forgot that she didn’t got a copy of it, either- something that I now regret as well. That essay set me on the path towards becoming a writer.

Now here we are, twelve years later. I’m working full-time creating blogs, emails, press releases. I’ve published a short story. I’ve won contests. I’m 15,000 words deep into a novel. If not for that essay contest, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

So thanks the school administrator who thought up the contest- and thanks to my Nana, Bernadine Anne Herron, for being my very first muse.