Intriguing Observations: Live. Write. Thrive.

The Intriguing Observations series was created to gather some of the greatest supporters and bloggers to provide their own insight on all things creative both in their ventures and their techniques. This week on the guest series is another all-star supporter and NY Times Bestselling author, Bob Mayer.

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No Matter the Genre, All Great Books Start With a Great Idea

The kernel idea is the Alpha and the Omega of your book, no matter what genre you are writing in.  By that I mean a single idea starts your creative process and it completes it.  It’s what you begin with and at the end of the manuscript, everything in the book points toward it.

The kernel idea is the foundation of your novel.  When I say idea, I don't necessarily mean the theme, although it can be.  Or the most important incident, although it can be.  But it can also be a setting.  It can be a scene.  It can be a character.

It is simply the first idea you had that was the seed of your novel.  All else can change, but the idea can’t.  It might be a place; a person; an event; a moral; whatever.  But you did have it before you began writing and you must remember it as you write.  If you don't, your story and style will suffer terribly.  You should be able to tell your idea in one sentence.  And repeat it to yourself every morning when you wake up and prior to writing.  Knowing it will keep you on track.

Every new book I begin, I write out this one sentence on a word document as the very first writing I do.  I print it out and put it where I can constantly see it. If you can't do remember this one sentence, then you need to backtrack through your thought processes and find it, because you had to have had it.  Everything starts from something.  Idea is not story.  Because every idea has been done, but every story hasn't.  The kernel idea is the one thing in your manuscript that cannot change.

In one of my early novels, the original idea was an action:  What if Special Forces soldiers had to destroy an enemy pipeline?  That's it for Dragon Sim-13.  Not very elaborate, you say.  True.  Not exactly a great moral theme.  Right.  But with that original idea there was a lot I could do and eventually had to do.  I had to change the target country after the first draft.  But that was all right because I still had the idea.  I had to change characters, but that was fine too, because it didn't change my idea.  I had to change the reason why they were attacking a pipeline, but again, the original idea was the same.

You will have plenty of latitude for story after you come up with your kernel idea; in fact, I sometimes find the finished manuscript turns out to be different from what I had originally envisioned, but one thing is always true: that kernel idea is still there at the end as the Omega.

For my first kernel idea, I made it as simple as possible to enable me to focus on the writing because when I was in the Special Forces my A-Team had run a similar mission on a pipeline.   Since I had a good idea what would happen in the story, I could concentrate on the actual writing of the novel.
I've sat in graduate literature classes and heard students say:  "The author had to have a moral point in mind when they wrote that book."  I agree, but sometimes it is not at the forefront of the story.  Many authors write simply to tell a story started by that kernel idea, which indeed might be a moral point, but sometimes is a story that they wanted to tell and the theme developed subsequently.

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A moral or theme (screenwriters call it intent) always does appear in a book by the time it’s done.   No matter what conscious expectations or thoughts an author has when they start writing, a lot more appears in the manuscript than they consciously anticipated.

After you have that kernel idea, you should spend a lot of time wrestling with it and consciously uncover your feelings and thoughts about it.  I try to look at my main characters and determine what will happen to them emotionally, physically and spiritually as they go through the story.  Who are they at the beginning of the story and who are they at the end?

This is an example of being aware of what you are doing.  I said above that not all authors have a conscious theme when they write a novel, but experience has taught me that it is better to have your theme in your conscious mind before you start writing.  It might not be your original idea, but it will definitely affect your characters and story.

The reason it is important to have a theme in mind is because people want to care about what they read and the characters.  If there is some moral or emotional relevance to the story they read, they will become more involved in the story and enjoy it more.  Even if the reader doesn't consciously see it either.  
Let me give you more examples of ideas I’ve used and gotten published:

What if the force that destroyed Atlantis ten thousand years ago comes back and threatens our world?  Atlantis series of books.

What if mankind didn’t originate the way we think we did?  Area 51 series.

What if Japan succeeded in its atomic bomb program at the very end of World War II and one of those bombs was hidden at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge?  The Gate

Another way to try to figure out what the core of your novel is this:  What is the climactic scene?  This is when the protagonist and antagonist meet to resolve the primary problem that is the crux of the novel.  This is what the entire book is driving towards.

Where’s the shiver?

What excited you so much that you decided to sit in the dark and writer 100,00 words.  That’s not normal, in case no one’s told you.  What excites people you talk to about your book?  I know I’m on target with an idea if others pick up my excitement when I discuss it.

Remember, as a writer, you are selling emotion and logic.  And Kirk always trumps Spock.
A key to selling your book is being able to communicate this shiver to other people.  To get them as excited as you were when you first began writing.

Bob Mayer is the NY Times Bestselling author of factual thrillers. He steeps his stories in military, historical and scientific facts, then weaves those facts through fiction creating an exciting ride for the reader.  He’s a West Point graduate, former Green Beret, and author of more than 50 books all available in eBook that have sold over 4 million copies.  He’s been on bestseller lists in thriller, science fiction, suspense, action, war, historical fiction and is the only male author on the Romance Writers of America Honor Roll.  He is one of the bestselling indie authors in the country.
Twitter: Bob_Mayer
Sites: www.bobmayer.org   www.whodareswinspublishing.com

Intriguing Observations: Writing is an Illusion

The Intriguing Observations series was created to gather some of the greatest supporters and bloggers to provide their own insight on all things creative both in their ventures and their techniques. This week on the guest series is another all-star supporter, fellow AP author and an outstanding wordsmith Meg Mims.

Writing is never easy, no matter what the genre. It’s an art—and crafting scenes to draw the reader in from the first line and keep them hooked until the last page takes hard work. One writer’s “trick” is relying on specifics. Word choice, in other words.

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Take “dog.” What kind of dog? A white dog. What size is it and what does it sound like? A yappy white poodle. Adding color, sound, even texture makes that vague word come alive. I used to teach elementary kids about using specifics when writing. Writers finagle words in fresh ways. “Digging up a cloud of dust, the dirty white poodle’s shrill yaps echoed in my brain.”

Shallow writing skips the surface of the author’s “world” and presents characters acting out scenes on an empty stage. I’m not advocating the use of info dumps. But the best writers will spin out a story on a slow line, fishing for depth. Oral storytellers do the same, using pauses and extra information to keep the listener’s interest. Take Harper Lee’s Pulitzer prize-winning novel, To Kill A Mockingbird. Being literary, she took free rein to build her world. And what a world it is, enough to shower a reader in specifics and place them smack dab in its midst.

“Maycomb was an old town, but it was a tired old town before I knew it. In rainy weather the streets turned to red slop; grass grew on the sidewalks, the courthouse sagged in the Square. Somehow, it was hotter then:   black dog suffered on a hot summer’s day; bony mules hitched to Hoover carts flicked flies in the sweltering shade of the live oaks on the square. Men’s stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon, after their three o’clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum.”

Readers (even ones who don’t like historical novels) enjoy specifics of a “story world” right along with the characters. My own trick is infusing several of the five senses within a character’s Point of View. You have to balance a razor’s edge between too subtle and overload. In Double Crossing, I used first person POV—primarily because I wanted that immediate close bonding between the heroine Lily Granville and the reader.

Writers tend to visualize their story world. Go beyond the “eyes” of a character, though, to hear, smell, feel and even taste within the scene’s action. In the following excerpt, I tried to use two or three senses at various times as Lily walks along a street in Nebraska, 1869:

I clamped a handkerchief over my mouth but Omaha’s black dirt still choked me. My hard sneeze left a ringing in my ears. There had to be a general store somewhere with needles and thread. Stray sparks from the Chicago and Western’s smokestack had burned tiny holes in my split skirt and jacket, and I was desperate to repair them both.

At last I found a shop. A bell jangled above my head when I entered. The bulky proprietor laughed and joked with several customers while he filled orders at the polished walnut counter. I meandered down each crowded aisle. Scents of dill, chives and cinnamon tickled my nose. Potatoes with earthy skins and papery onions filled open barrels. Small jars of pickled beets and corn relish, tins of fruit and baked beans lined the shelves. Huge burlap sacks of flour, sugar, salt, coffee and beans lay near the door, and wheels of cheese had been stacked above crates of smoked fish and salt pork.

Seeing the flatirons, hoes, plows and other tools all around brought a sense of normalcy back to my life. I realized I’d been wandering in a haze since Father’s funeral.

I could have had Lily touching the earthy skins of potatoes, but that would have dirtied her gloves! So keep in mind your character’s personality when writing. Vivid details come from specific adjectives and nouns—silver folding scissors, sturdy butter churns, oilcloth cape, shiny snaps. Readers can quickly identify the items with the visual cues. Dropping a few other sensory cues—bell jangled, scents tickling the nose—helps also. Adding a brief dialogue exchange with minor characters will also balance out the scene.

Your readers will appreciate that the characters are not acting on an empty stage.

Meg Mims is an award-winning author and artist. She writes “blended genre” fiction, and her western historical suspense won the 2012 Western Writers of America Spur Award for Best First Novel. Meg earned an M.A. from Seton Hill University’s Writing Popular Fiction program and is a staff writer for Lake Effect Living, a West Coast of Michigan tourist on-line magazine. Double Crossing is available both in e-book and print.

Website: www.double-crossing.com and www.megmims.com

Twitter: @megmims

Facebook: Meg Mims and Double Crossing

Intriguing Adaptations

In any creative composition that desires to convey a narrative, the piece strives to emulate life. Through the emulation it is possible for others to connect with the work.

Individuals that perceive the composition can empathize with others in familiar situations, they can recognize individuals and even understand how narrative thoughts could come together because it is familiar. Establishing relatable elements expands the scope of the piece, changes it into something personal, something that can convey a concept into the very thought process of others.

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Selecting and manipulating elements to make a composition relatable is only one part of a larger challenge, making the piece interesting to an external perspective. Individuals have their own perceptions, preconceived notions that filter any composition.

While establishing the connection with the piece creates a given level of interest, it does not guarantee that the piece will have enough innate interest to keep the viewer engaged.

The most fundamental element of any narrative that grabs an individual's attention and keeps it is adaptation.


Every narrative, every piece is driven by the fundamental concept of human adaptation, individual adaptability. People are naturally drawn to stories because of the innate fascination with observing how other people adapt to situations. Regardless of whether it's how someone would adapt to the death of a loved one, the stress of saving lives, catching a murderer, caring for a child or even switching careers the interest is piqued.

Since most people are unable to experience all the possibilities of human adaptability they are innately drawn to experience these adaptations through others. It doesn't matter if it's called coping, overcoming something or character growth, it is human adaptation and we are always interested. Mixing relatable elements into the piece only assists in emphasizing our interest in that adaptation.

A Sound Design

Any narrative composition is an assemblage of elements from the relationships between characters and their interactions, to subtle details like lighting, depth of field and narrative angles that are all designed to control the audience's perceptions of the piece.

In cinematography, a primary element that is necessary to unify a composition is sound. Whether it's the audio levels for a given scene, the subtle use of background noise or even music, audio creates the gestalt composition.

Controlling the audio levels in cinematography, while challenging, also yields the most dynamic results and brings the composition to life for the audience.

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Audio levels typically consist of two subset levels and four operating levels. The two subsets consist of the dynamic range, the full range of sound in a given recording; and the operating range, the actual range of recording. Within these subset levels are the operating levels; the Noise floor, the Reference level, Headroom and Maximum output.

The Noise Floor, also known as the background noise, is most responsible for creating a unifying tie between scenes even when the scenes take place in dramatically different settings. Most often a cinematographer will create a steady white-noise that they can underly to subtly tie together all of the scenes in a piece.

The Reference Level quite frequently is the 'talking volume' in a piece. This is subject to the direction that the sound is coming from in regards to the input. Individuals talking in frame or background music that alter from scene to scene. This is the primary level for action and interaction with the main composition.

The Headroom and Maximum Output levels are typically only utilized for 'peaking,' that is, the times when the music will swell or a particular noise will be emphasized over the previous sounds. A number of compositions utilize this to great effect for startling the audience.

A narrative composition utilizes sound design just as well as any cinematography effort. While the cinematographer needs to rely on the actual sounds and levels of their work, the writer has infinitely more control over the sound but has a greater challenge. Every narrative setting has audio levels that can be subtly used to create the desired effect and control the audience's perceptions of the scene.

 Ex. She paced along the walkway under the warm glow of the park's lights. She needed answers and he was going to be the first step.


In the narrative, the sound design is not always overt and quite frequently the audio is dependent on the audience's preconceptions of the scene. While it is not overtly described in this scene the audio levels are inferred. The sound levels are very low with footsteps on the wooden walkway and a quiet undercurrent of nocturnal sounds from the park. While the implied sounds are adequate the audio does not utilize the full operating levels for the scene. The composition feels incomplete.

Ex. She paced along the ocean walkway under the warm glow of the park's lights. She needed answers and he was going to be the first step. The winds picked up, rustling the bushes and carrying small bits of litter across the grass.


The additional details not only add to the visual composition but also succeed in generating full operating levels for the composition. The Noise Floor is filled with subtle shifts between the ocean and winds. The Reference level is filled with footsteps on the walkway while the Headroom Level is filled with swelling winds and rustling bushes.

Just as in Cinematography compositions, a Narrative composition relies heavily on sound design to control the perceptions of a scene. Understanding and utilizing the audio levels to great effect can be the difference between an average scene and a dramatic scene that influences the audience. Sound is integral creating the optimal composition, world building that immerses the viewer.

Defining the Absence

When any creative piece is crafted the artist must analyze and interpret a number of elements to bring their vision to life. Just as a painter or sculptor must consider the aspects that they must insert into their composition they must also consider how they will use what they will not include.

The Negative Space of a composition is just as integral to the piece as every brush stroke or chisel mark. The artist can use it to add depth to the composition, further define the structure of the piece and act as a transition between the elements.

As an artist sculpts their piece from the void they select the elements that will serve the piece best whether by insertion or omission. The negative space is not a simple void but strategically implemented space that can bring the composition to life. Sculptors often utilize the negative space of a piece to draw the shadows and light the piece with emotion much like a writer can wield implications through omitted events. That which is omitted can bring events, actions and even emotions for characters into sharper focus.

While the negative space defines the piece, the structure and shape of that space can be molded to guide the audience's perception. In the visual arts this can be done to define the focal point of the piece, while a literary perception on this can be called a theme. A specific attempt by the creator to shape a piece towards one singular point, one event, that the creator wishes to convey.

The most common use of negative space in any creative piece is it's use as a transitional element to prevent inconsistencies or detract from the piece. It is not only more powerful to bypass the 'mundane' parts to keep the piece cohesive but by leveraging that negative space a piece can enhance the emotional impact of what is crafted.

In writing, negative space is just as prevalent as in any other art. When characters are describing traveling to location and the next scene is the characters at that location the journey to that location is implied, it is negative space. When characters act according to their past history but do not explain it, it is implied even though it is omitted. These omissions in the writing are actually the negative space in the piece.

In any creative piece what is sculpted and what is omitted are equally important elements. While there is an extensive amount of attention that is given to what is crafted, it is imperative to understand that what is omitted is still integral to the structure of the piece and has its own impact.

How do you use the negative space? Do you arrange your piece with the impact of that space in mind?