For those not familiar with the traditional three-act structure, it works kinda like this:
ACT I (Setup):
Introduce the characters and the world they inhabit. Give them clearly defined goals that will start them on their journey out of their comfort zone. Introduce the obstacles (including people, including themselves) that stand in the way of reaching those goals, underscoring how they will need to grow/change in order to get what they want.
In the case of WIZARD OF OZ, this was the B&W part of the story, pre-tornado, when all Dorothy wanted was to go somewhere else.
ACT II (Confrontation):
Release the monsters one at a time that prohibit your hero/heroine from getting what they want most. Complications = conflict, which motivates our character into action and keeps the story moving. Keep raising the stakes to the point where the protagonist can't go back to the way he or she was before. They are solidly on this new path, navigating this new world with all the new skills that they learn along the way, usually ending on a "point of no return," that demands the character has to take drastic action to achieve his or her goal.
For Dorothy, her fish-out-of-water story began the minute she got what she wanted - to be "over the rainbow." She stepped out into Oz and was given a brand new goal: To get back home. Along the way she met a slew of new friends in adventures that bring her to her "point of no return;" in order to return home, she has to kill the Wicked Witch.
ACT III (Resolution):
Protagonist faces off against antagonistic forces (whether people or events) in the ultimate showdown (i.e., climax) of the story. Whether the hero/heroine gets what he or she wants, this protagonist will ultimately get what he or she needs, fulfilled by the journey itself.
Flying monkeys. Wicked Witch. "I'm melting," "What a world," yadda yadda yadda. Dorothy does what she is supposed to do, and very nearly gets stuck in Oz with her new friends because as it turns out... that Wiz wasn't that much of a Wiz at all. But because of all she has learned, she is bestowed one final magic spell... that answers one last lingering question: will Dorothy ever make it home?
This is the natural flow of a story, whether a single plot told in one story, or an arc told over multiple installments. In fact, if you do write more than one book in a series, you have to pull off this three-act structure with every single book itself, with clearly defined goals (and conflict) for each and every one. This is what readers expect of you, even if they aren't aware of the specifics. And even if they can't say why, they'll definitely know when you've failed.
Every single story ever told answers certain questions in order of where they might prove most compelling. WHO are these people and WHY should I care? WHAT stands in their way? HOW do they overcome? WHEN those questions, and any new ones introduced along the way, are answered ultimately drives the story, demanding to know WHERE the payoff might be.
In stories executed well, it's the very next page after the one you're reading. This keeps you reading, even when you're forced every bit as much out of your comfort zone as the protagonist themselves.
The reader/audience, much like the protagonist, is basically a frog in a pot of water. We coax you into the pot gently, beguiling - seducing - you into the story, making you feel comfortable and safe until we start to turn up the heat in Act II. By Act III, the water is boiling and - if we're successful in how we have constructed our stories - you won't be able to hop out until you see how it all ends, despite how uncomfortable you are.
Act II is where you're going to get uncomfortable, like most confrontation proves to be. In fact, just by your emotional reaction alone, you can easily pinpoint where Act II begins (and climaxes) simply by your level of discomfort. Where did the characters piss you off? Where did they break your heart? This is where your subconscious realized that the water had started to boil and you had to adjust your *own* expectations accordingly.
You didn't really think it was just the protagonist that had to change, did you?
Act II forces every single one of us to confront our comfort zones. That is its whole purpose for being, and its importance cannot be overstated. There's a reason that a lot of writers are intimidated by Act II, because as the creator, our first instinct is to protect ourselves, our characters and even you, the reader. We're afraid to go too far, even when our stories demand it. We don't want to piss anyone off. We don't want to hurt anyone. Most of us are really nice people deep down. So many writers back off from this challenge, myself included. We envision that line of what we can tolerate and dance right up to it, generally only sticking a toe (or toenail) across it and considering it a "win" when we do. Because fiction = conflict, our stories often suffer because of our timidity. The creation of art is a spiritually violent act, much like giving birth. If it doesn't hurt us, challenge us, change us, motivate US to keep moving forward, then it's never going to work for any of you.
The masters of the craft know this and wield this important storytelling weapon accordingly.
Since I take my craft very seriously I take this responsibility very seriously, especially the more seasoned I get as a writer. I trust you more. I trust me more. I trust my stories more. As a result, Book Two is usually my challenge to take us *all* past our comfort zones for the sake of a story well told. And if you are upset, if you're mad, if you're heartbroken over these fictional characters and crazy stories that started out as mere thoughts and ideas in my fevered brain... that's a story well told. You may give me a one-star rating because you hated my characters and what they did to each other, or what I did to them, but what is hate if not another emotion? I made you feel something - strongly - so I consider this a win. In fact the stronger you feel, the more successful I was at my job. I made you care about what used to be a blank page, as if these things, people and places were real. If my characters zigged when you thought they should have zagged, and you form very strong opinions on it as a result, based on *nothing* more than the way I arrange letters on a screen - thinking, feeling, debating, worrying, anxious about, curious over, heartsick because of kernels of thought born in pure imagination alone -
That.
Is.
Astounding.
Seriously. It's magic. As a reader myself, I love when I can feel something that powerful, especially when all I really wanted was to be entertained. Make me cry, make me angry, make me feel; I'll love you a hundred times more because of it. These are words on a page, and they're making me feel something? How fucking incredible is that?? This is why I have no problem turning up the heat just so that *I* can get the most out of my story. I need to feel it. I need to be consumed by it. Like Garth says, "Life is not tried it's just merely survived if you're standing outside the fire." I jump in both feet.
Make it burn, leave a scar, and people will remember you forever.
This is why my FULLERTON FAMILY SAGA, easily the series with the most #feelz of any of my books, is my most beloved. It sold the most. It's been reviewed the most. And of all the reader feedback, it's the one where I've heard the most amazing stories of connection between the reader, the writer and the characters.
*****5- Heartsick, Broken and Pissed off -Stars***** "Why?! That same question has been on repeat in my head over and over and over since I finished this book. Why?! Ginger, WHY?! I waited a full day after finishing the book before even attempting to write up this review and I'm still not sure how I'm gonna get through it without completely losing my shit. I should have know, I did know, that there was a real good chance this book was going to destroy me-between the blurbs leading up to this final installment and that terrifying little sneak peak at the end of Entangled....I wasn't wrong to be worried, typing this up days later and I'm still in an emotional tailspin. If I could hunt down Ms. Ginger Voight I would hug her, beat her with my pitchfork, then cry on her shoulder. I can't remember the last time a book has affected me like this, so I guess no matter how I feel about how it all went down at the end, there is no denying Ginger Voight is an amazing author for bring such strong emotions out of me through her pen alone." - Bookworm Betties
Because of this, I refuse to pull any punches. If you're going to hate me (or break your Kindle,) it's going to start in Book Two. Never has that been truer than with MASTERS FOR LIFE. It should come with it's own warning label, and that comes from someone who generally shuns all warning labels. A long time ago I took the stance that if anyone needed a warning label to read a book, they should steer far clear of mine. I have no problem tackling ugly topics, as fearlessly as I can muster at the time. You're either going to love me or hate me, or love to hate me, but the minute you finish Book Two, I don't consider it a success unless you absolutely, positively, undeniably need to start Book Three to see how it all resolves, even if - especially if - you're scared absolutely shitless to do it.
I take this to new extremes in MASTERS FOR LIFE. From one of my betas, upon finishing Book Two: "Oh my God it is so awesome. I can't believe how you ended it. I need number 3 like yesterday."
This, in my mind, is a slam dunk. My goal was to write a book so gripping that you HAVE to get all your friends to read it, just so you'll have someone to talk to about it. This is why I have - if you'll pardon the pun - "infected" everyone I know with The Walking Dead. I *need* someone to talk to about this story because it's so freaking good. This is why I tune into The Talking Dead every single week to work through all the feelz with C-Hard, the cast, the creators and the fans. The minute the story hurts a little bit, I'm ready to talk it out with people who understand. It's kinda the best part about it.
But let's be honest. In order to inspire that kind of passion, it's gotta hurt. Happy-go-lucky, sexysexysexy only gets you so far. What people remember is when they got smacked in the face or kicked in the gut.
Whereas MASTERS FOR HIRE was a little more fun, a little sexier, a little more romantic, MASTERS FOR LIFE turns up the heat on our little froggies, Devlin and CC, and all who might love them. (Myself included.) Two virtual strangers are trying to forge a relationship together after two idyllic weeks together, with all the baggage in their past standing in their way. For Devlin Masters, our blank slate, our chameleon, this could (and does) mean anything. A couple of new characters find their way into the story, who definitely make things more... interesting. My main goal throughout Book Two was to keep CC guessing all the way through the book. Who can she trust? Who should she believe? Can she trust herself, even, as she watches herself morph and change into someone she doesn't really know?
In other words, welcome to Oz, my friends.
If you want a story to meander through various versions of a HEA for this couple for the next two books, I ain't yer girl. That shit doesn't interest me. I don't write escapism porn as a rule. You can escape into my books, but you're generally always relieved to make it back out again. My roller coasters shake you around a little bit, and you will need a little time to recover, which I figure is what all those happier books are for, including a few of my own.
For my series books, however, you're locked in for the ride. And I don't mind flipping the switch, taking you backwards, racing you forwards, and keeping you arse over teakettle until we're through... particularly in Book Two.
I'm out to test my couples how much they want to be together, and in doing so pose the ongoing question whether or not they deserve to be together. By the time you get to the resolution of this unusual story I've spent all this time building, I want you to buy Book Three complete with a Costco pallet of tissue and wine just to get to the end. And then we can meet and you can hug me, yell at me, curse me, then hug me again and cry on my shoulder. I will have the utmost empathy for your pain, because I've already done all those things to myself.
Throughout my second edit of MASTERS FOR LIFE, I forced myself to jump way past the line of my own personal comfort. As a result, there are a couple of scenes in this book that crawl all over me like a dozen scorpions. My first impulse is to apologize... to you and to my characters... even though I know this is the way the story has to go down in order to be told well.
If you've read my books in the past, you have an idea of what's coming, and are likely scared shitless as a result (as you should be.) For many of you, it's what you love most about me. For the rest... well, consider this your one and only warning.
I'm turning up the heat. The pot is going to boil. You will curse me, and I will deserve it. In fact, I've set up a brand new discussion forum, GV CORNER, where we can share all the feels.
Welcome to the conflict and chaos of Act II, where the fairy tale I crafted in Book One begins to fray as early as the first chapter in Book Two. Settle in as I finally start to pull back the curtain a little bit on our mysterious hero, Devlin Masters.
**SPOILERS AHEAD**
Excerpt, Chapter One MASTERS FOR LIFE
Devlin already knew how much settling for anything pissed me the hell off. He also had appointed himself as my white knight, ensuring that I would never have to settle for anything again. He studied me for a long minute before he said, “Come on.”
I followed him from the bathroom back into the bedroom. He opened up the door to the huge walk-in closet, heading straight for the chest of drawers that sat right in the middle. On the top was a big cardboard box, where he began pulling out several pieces of clothing.
I could tell immediately that every single piece had been designed by his sister, Darcy. The way they flowed, the material she used; I could tell without even trying them on that they would fit to flatter in a way no other clothes I could find at Cabot’s could.
I didn’t have to ask him where he got them. Instead, I posed another, more curious question. “Why do you have a box full of your sister’s clothes?”
He sighed as he leaned against the drawers. “I fulfill my client’s fantasies, remember?”
I lifted up the sunny yellow top to my torso. “And it’s just a coincidence it’s in my size?”
His eyes never left mine. “No, Coralie. It’s not a coincidence.” I leaned back against the drawers as I waited for him to explain, which he did without on speck of apology. “I had Darcy send me a package of size-14 clothing within an hour of getting your first email.”
My mouth dried up instantly. “What? Why?”
He sighed as he turned back to the box to pull out more clothes. “I told you before. It’s my job to give women what they want most.”
“But how did you know that included clothes?” I persisted.
He flashed me that smirk. “All women love to feel pretty in their clothes, Coralie. You know that.”
“So… wait,” I said as my brain scrambled to compute this startling new data. “You knew who I was when I sent the email?”
He inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower. “I researched you the minute I had a first and last name,” he admitted at last. “I research everyone. It helps to start a few paces ahead. I scope out a potential client’s social media, dig up any relevant articles or information on my more notable clients. I gather all available information before I initiate contact, so I can develop a plan of attack from there.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of words.”
He shrugged. “Like I told you before, a lot is riding on that first date.”
I thought back to how insecure I felt when he had originally drilled me about my dress size, something he now admitted to knowing all along. “Why did you bother asking me my dress size if you already knew it?”
He shrugged. “There was more benefit in my knowing the information than letting you know that I knew it. Women tend to get creeped out if they think they’re being stalked or played. They find it far more romantic if a man instinctively anticipates what they need, but in order to do that, one has to take the time to figure it out. Since I don’t have the luxury of ‘dating,’ I had to find a more efficient way to do that. It’s the same game, just a different delivery. I can be prepared and you can be pleasantly surprised.”
I gulped hard as I realized how masterfully he had played the game. But it was what he said next that really took me by surprise.
“More importantly I wanted to see how you felt about your size, so I’d know which piece of clothing would make you feel the most beautiful.”
The way he said ‘your size,’ hit me like a brick to the face. “Two for two,” I gritted between clenched teeth before I turned away. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back.
“This is why I don’t talk about my job, Coralie. It doesn’t matter how we got there.”
“It does to me,” I snapped. “I don’t want a relationship built with smoke and mirrors.”
He released my arm. “Then don’t marry your gigolo.”
I threw the top on the box and spun on my heel to leave the closet, but he closed the distance between us in a heartbeat. He wrapped one strong arm around my waist, lifted me up off the ground and into the unrelenting vice of his embrace. “Let me go!”
“Never,” he said softly. My eyes sought his. Resistance beyond that was futile and I knew it. “I don’t apologize for anything that brought us together, Coralie. Not one damned thing. I love you. And that is worth everything.”
Like Devlin himself, I can't apologize for how we get there. That we get there, together, is worth everything.
Having said that:
**Author Not Responsible for Broken Kindles**
Are you sure you're ready for Book Two?
Gonna entertain ya till ya scream...
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