Writers Boot Camp: Lip Service

Have you ever participated in a sort of boot camp? Right now i'm about halfway through an iron tribe fitness challenge. Which should be synonymous for sweat-like-a-pig-and-look-like-an-idiot torture training. And yet, there's something to be said for putting yourself out there, gritting your teeth, and just going for it. Little by little your strength grows and you even surprise yourself by what you can actually accomplish once you've worked those hibernating muscles. But as much as it hurts, we're all trembling and nearly puking together. 

And that got me thinking about writers who maybe don't have a support group, or perhaps who haven't been sharing their chapters with their critique partners for whatever reason. It doesn't matter how strong your writing muscles may be, there are still times when flexing your stuff feels rather intimidating. When you feel like you're stumbling around on achy legs and relying on clumsy muscle memory. Wondering if maybe you've lost your touch or if certain muscles aren't working quite as they used to. 

Just like those brutal lunges and impossible planks, it's not comfortable at first, and that burn definitely doesn't feel so hot. But nothing will serve you better in the long run than developing perseverance. Because if you can take some instruction and endure that initial soreness that comes from a battered ego, you'll end up lean and mean and stronger than ever.

We all say we want to grow as writers. Often times that's lip service. It sounds good. But wouldn't we all rather just be great already? Well, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but that is one muscle that needs constant exercise. So if we want to whip our flabby scenes into shape let's talk about a different kind of lip service. Not the smoochy kind I tend to teach about. The smart-mouth, sassy pants, word-play kind. One of my favorite things to write, besides a boiling point kissing scene, is banter. 

I can't tell you how many books I've read where scene after scene pass with gobs of missed opportunities for verbal foreplay or quirky characterization. I'm not implying that it has to be present in every scene, just that it can really amp up the dynamic and intensity of your chemistry on paper. Not just between your characters, but between you and your reader. 

PLUS! It makes your characters more relateable and 3-dimensional.

Let's hit the weights! We all have different strengths and weaknesses and this is the perfect learning opportunity. We will work on a two point system for each entry. Finding a strength and offering a suggestion. Note that these will be just that, suggestions. Like anything, take it with a grain of salt. If it works for your style, apply it. If it doesn't fit, no harm no foul. We're only looking at a tiny piece of the whole picture and writing is anything but an exact science... so lets get some story tidbits flowing and work that inspiration muscle till it hurts so good.

Who's brave enough to play? I'll go first for the warm up!

Boot Camp RULES and REGS:

-Suggestions and encouragement welcome from any and all commentors on each entry. 

-This can be very nerve-wracking for some. Kindness is mandatory, but the best trainers are known for pushing you to the limit. If you submit an entry, keep that in mind. We are rooting for you to succeed and succeed BIG! This is not a critical exercise but an educational one.

-Try to keep your entries about 250 words or under. Just a snippet that is a good representation of your style will work great! We're looking for personality in your dialogue here. If you're stuck for a good example, post a scene that needs whipping into shape. We're on it!

-If there is a large response, check back for your a response this weekend. I promise to get to them all!

I'll give you two examples from my rough draft of the types of verbal volleying we are looking for here: 

Something spunky... 

         Roughened fingers curled around her hand. “Redmond.” He shook with vigor. “Come from a long line of Norwegian blondes. Born as bare as a cue ball, so the hair is purely coincidental. Some say it was a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

            “And what do you say?” She shook back.

            He smiled; big, bushy eyebrows dancing with merriment. “I say it’s luck. Maybe destiny. Helped me charm the purddiest little redhead into marrying me, and it makes it plum near impossible for people to forget my name.” He released his hand to ruffle his trimmed-up chops. “Losing some of my flair though. Still smokin’ hot, just a bit of ash cooling in the fire,” Red punctuated with a wink.

            Everleigh grinned, feeling like she’d found a kindred with another spunky cock-eyed optimist who rambled just as much as she did. “Definitely unforgettable.” 

(Note: These are not wasted words. They tell you much about your character without a lot of back story dump or internal rambling.)

or something quirky that brings your character to life...

 “Put me down.”

“What? No.” Rivulets of sweat tracked down his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt.

She started to wriggle loose which awakened the shock-addled nerves in her leg. Oh oww. She sipped a breath through gritted teeth. “Jase, really. I know I’m heavy.”

He barked a laugh, holding her tighter until he found the right door and entered the darkened room. “It’s not you.”

“Ha! That line is still out there, huh? Brutal.”

She felt him shaking his head as he leaned down. Shockingly cool granite hit the backs of her legs where he deposited her on a counter.

The instant loss of his heat was replaced by a flood of light. She shouldn’t have looked but it was instinctual. A deep red stain had soaked through the fabric tied around her thigh. Tributaries of blood wove a crimson web down her leg like liquid fishnets. The entirety of her robin’s egg canvas shoe awash in a glaring garnet.

“Ohhh.” Swaying, she smacked her head against the mirrored wall. “Oh geeze. Umm.” She pinched her eyes shut. “Baby giggles. First kisses. Breakfast Blend. Stevie Wonder. Fresh baked bread. Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Singing in the Rain.”

One big hand cradled her skull and kneaded the offending spot. Another pried open one eye and struck her retina with a flash of light. “What are you doing?” His voice scraped over her skin.

“I’m finding my happy place so I don’t face plant in the sink. What are you doing?” She batted at his hand stretching her eyelids oh so flatteringly.

            “Just making sure you’re still with me.” 

(This is a very tense scene that peels back another layer of the characters identities and struggles. The playfulness is a much needed reprieve for the reader after the previous action sequence. Use that dialogue to your advantage. Make it work for you. Don't make it filler!)

Let's see what you got?

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Amy Leigh Simpson writes romantic mysteries with honesty and humor, sweetness and spice, and gritty reality covered by grace. When she’s not stealing moments at naptime to squeeze out a few more adventures in storyland, she’s chasing around two tow-headed miscreants (Ahem)—boys, playing dress up with one sweet princess baby, and being the very blessed wife to the coolest, most swoon-worthy man alive. Amy is a Midwestern-girl, a singer, blogger, runner, coffee-addict, and foodie. Her Sports Medicine degree is wasted patching up daily boo boo’s, but whatever is left usually finds its way onto the page with fluttering hearts, blood and guts, and scars that lead to happily ever after.

Check out her NEW romantic mystery novel FROM WINTER'S ASHES! Available NOW!