Writer Beware™ Blogs!: How to Satisfy Your Reader without Being Predictable

Writer Beware™ Blogs!: How to Satisfy Your Reader without Being Predictable

I found this advice on creating a successful balance between predictability and reader satisfaction so interesting that I wanted to share it with you. Give it a read.

A Little Respect in a Big World

Hello all, I know it's been a minute, I'm sorry. That thing called life sidetracked me. Tonight while searching for a document on my hard drive, I came across one of my writing exercises for a fiction writing techniques course I took in 2007. I don't remember what the instructor asked us to write about, but whatever it is, this is what I came up with. A story about a petty boss. What do you think?
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A Little Respect in a Big World

I learned too late of the harsh upbringing of our new boss. Had I known before he arrived, I could have warned the others so that things could have turned out differently. If we had known, perhaps now we’d be able to endure the day without periodically excusing ourselves to go outside to contemplate whether or not to return to our desks to resume the tiring, thankless, dreary, confidence shattering hours that define our workday under Mr. Boss’s reign.

But how could we have known that his father, a well respected and tough as nails state prosecutor, upon hearing of his son’s desire to one day follow in his dad’s footsteps, told him that due to his height he would never be effective in the courtroom, that jurors and judges would side with authority figures, men they could respect. That people didn’t respect short men and that law school was not an investment he’d be willing to make for his son who’d be better suited for business and sales. And how was this cruel father to know that those words would drive his son to despise himself and to develop superior intimidation skills to mask his inner turmoil. And that this negativity, like a foul and persistent odor, would remain with all he encountered.

Kevin Richard Boss strode into our 6^th floor editorial office one morning last May with a bloated chest and an expressionless boyish face. He stood there and surveyed us, his new underlings, with the same intimidating glare as an established prison yard bully. We knew the new boss was starting that day, but were caught off guard by this dramatic entrance. Since we’d never spoken a word to this man, his assertion seemed uncalled for and looked absurdly animated. I initially thought that this could be his way of breaking the ice and making us laugh. I wanted to and almost did, but then realized as I studied the coldness in his eyes, that this man, our new leader, was not there to entertain us but had drifted in from the outside to forever change the atmosphere of our cozy little home away from home. The others, Patricia, Tamela, Mike, Judy and Nesim didn’t seem to pick up the vibe that I had. I saw in their eyes, and so did he, a slight amusement at a harmless sourpuss, a tiny man standing not an inch over 5’2 and weighing not a pound over 135; the snug fit of his pinstriped slacks and the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt only drawing attention to his diminutive stature. He didn’t bother to introduce himself, not that day anyway, continuing on to his office and quietly closing the door so that only a slice of light from his office shone onto the dark hallway carpet.

“I wonder who he’s riding at the Preakness this year?” Pat, our resident comedian, blurted inappropriately. Oh how I wished she’d exercised restraint, all of us really. We laughed and howled and stomped our feet, I perhaps the loudest of them all, at my mental image of him hunched over on top of a speeding streak of brown and black. No one but me seemed to hear fists suddenly slam down on the desk in the boss’ office or notice that the slice of light had vanished from the carpet.

He’d heard our mockery, and if I recall correctly, a collective laugh hasn’t been shared amongst us about anything since.

One year later, here we sit on a Tuesday afternoon, tired from the long hours of the previous two weeks and hungry for food that we were promised but will not receive. Kevin liked to play tricks on us, well that’s how Tamela, the editorial assistant described it. Like today for instance, we smell him eating pizza. Yesterday he told us that today lunch would be on him if his favorite team, the Cavaliers lost a game to the Suns. I blame myself for us not eating pizza today, as I got a little too comfortable with the ‘good natured’ ribbing that ensued and laughed that Cleveland sucked. I and a few others joked that the Phoenix Suns would kick the Cavaliers’ butts. And they did. Like a fool, I believed Kevin would own up to what he promised. I opened the two liter orange soda I’d bought to drink with our pizza, while Mike, our graphics guy, walked down to Hooters to pick up the wings and fries that we agreed to share. But all we could do was rub our bellies to contain the hunger as the delivery guy walked past us with only one medium pizza and headed straight to Kevin’s office.

The End

Playing with My Alphabets

All I want to do in life is

Be the best Jennifer I can be

Choosing more right options than wrong

Deliberately treating others the way I wish to be treated

Expressing myself the way I know best

Finishing the projects that I start

Getting out and enjoying life

Hitting the gym or the pavement to exercise

Imagining all the things that make me happy

Joining others in an effort to make the world a better place

Kicking out all the negative thoughts that invade my private time

Learning new things

Making sure the people in my life know how much I love them

Never taking my blessings for granted

Opening my mind to possibilities I haven’t considered

Protecting my spirit from harm

Questioning what I don’t understand, but learning to let go what I cannot change

Resting my mind at night so that my body will follow suit

Sharing my creative interpretations with others

Traveling to the places that bring me comfort

Understanding that time goes on no matter how much I object

Visiting my family often

Wearing clothes that flatter my frame

eXpecting to receive the kind of love and passion that I fantasize of

Yielding returns on my investments

and Zealously enjoying the simple things in life

I'm Also a Movie Director

No, no, no, I haven't partnered with any Hollywood hotshots (not yet anyway). I do however create scripts, recruit talent, direct the action, and watch it on my mental movie screen. Because I'm a loser in the dating game, I feel great empathy for those poor souls who sit on the sidelines with me, waiting to be picked and given a chance. The underdogs. In homage to the "rest of us," most of my movie fantasies center around the adventures of intelligent and passionate Plain Janes who manage to get the sweet, handsome, gentle, and charming hero despite the adversities that I bestow on them. My movies are much better than what I find in the theatres. I sometimes star in them, other times I have an avatar. Depends on my mood. Here are a few of the classic "films" I’ve made in the past. I might close my eyes and watch one of them before bed tonight. (Oh, if only I could fall asleep right away like a normal person.)

1. That’s Your Husband?: An overweight, yet super sweet cleaning lady shocks an office full of beautiful thin singletons when they discover that she's married to their handsome and charming boss. He's completely oblivious to the fact that his subordinates wish he had chosen someone on his level of attractiveness; someone like one of them.

2. You've Got an Extra What?: A beautiful woman feels cursed by a genital deformity (Hey, I gotta keep the fantasy interesting right? Don't judge me!) As a result she's never gotten close with a man for fear of rejection. But then she meets a very special hero who's determined to show her what she's been missing.

3. Heart of Hearing: A cautious deaf woman who was raised in a convent, finds her way to the big city where she meets a special hero and his evil charming cousin. The evil cousin wants to rob her of her innocence; the hero wants to stop him. But does he arrive at the hotel in time?

4. The Roommate: Deciding between a sexy, music video model and her more conservative, homebody roommate should be easy right? Not for one hero who is quite pleased to learn that the roommate who's so boring (according to the model) is a skilled chess player--just like him. Oh the delicious dilemma?

Ahh yes, these and many more play each day on Jenn-Tube. Too bad I'm the only person that can tune in. Sometimes I wish that what I see so clearly in my head was on a real tv or movie screen. I would like to know if the audience would say "finally, something good to watch!" My actors are very talented and some have faces that I make up. Meaning I've never seen that exact face before in my outside life. I mix and match until I have an entirely new one. It's hard to do though, so I usually opt for people I've seen on the street, or in the store. Wanna know something? Sometimes I wish it wasn't make believe.

And I Love Her

Dear Inspiration,

It's me again. I miss you terribly, I mean it. Please come back to me. I feel so good when I'm with you, it's been so long since you've blessed me with your presence. I'm sorry that I've allowed you to slip away again, will you please forgive me and return to my soul?

Dear Jennifer,

I'm tired of going through this with you. You summons me; I appear; then you allow everything else in your life to take precedence over what I provide. How many times have I given you the perfect ending? Delivered the right arrangement of words? Yet what have you done with it? Nothing. I'm not sure if you deserve another chance. Do you know how many writers anticipate my arrival and reward me by expeditiously jotting down what I conjure in their minds? You ma'am have a lot to learn. But that's why I'm here. I see that you struggle and I don't want to give up on you (you're my favorite of them all). I return time and time again, each time hoping that you finally use me to make your literary dreams come true. But remember, though you're my favorite, I'm still not monogamous. I spread my ideas around (yes, even that particular one you hold so dear), and if you don't use it, someone else will.
Moving on, I know how much you enjoy listening to Ahmad Jamal. I found this little gem to help you travel to that special place that seduces your creativity. Now get to work, don't make me regret this.



Dear Inspiration,

Thank you for not giving up on me. I'll see to it that your efforts are not in vain. Thanks for the musical elixir, "Swahililand" is the truth. Off to create magic.

A Familiar, But Older Face

When I tell people I work as a writer, I usually receive a "oh, you're a journalist?" I then have to surprise them by revealing that I never went to journalism school, never studied communications, and never had to read War and Peace (that's right, I wasn't an English major either). Though I've flirted with the idea of becoming a print journalist, I haven't done anything yet to bring anything to fruition.

While at a conference this past week, during a discussion of the responsibilities of a particular job, I heard one of the attendees start a comment with, "Twenty years from now when we're all gone—"
She was referring to herself and colleagues who would be retired by then. Naturally, my brain took that phrase, conferred with my imagination, and together they came up with an image of me encountering a me who was twenty years older... 51 years old.

I pictured the surprise on both faces as their eyes registered the future and the past. As part of being a self-proclaimed weirdo, I'll admit to sometimes wishing for the three ghosts from A Christmas Carol to visit me, particularly the Ghost of Christmas Future. I want to know something, anything about what's to come.

So as I took my conference notes, I imagined what would happen at such a meeting. What insight I'd gain about my future life. I combined what I've learned about interviewing a source, with all I know of creative expression to conduct an "interview" with 51-year-old Jennifer. While my representative carefully studied the presenters' slides, who would have thought that I had secretly escaped further into my imagination for a little playtime.

[after excited yelps and hugs and kisses between the two]

31: Thank you for speaking with me today, Jennifer.
51: Don't I always find time to talk to myself?
31: You haven't lost your sense of humor I see.
51: Life tried to take it from me, but I held on.
31: You look great.
51: Why thank you. If you stop eating sweets right now, and manage to keep it that way, you can pull this off too.

31: Um, how many books have you written?
51: Twelve.
31: Big publishing house or self-published?
51: Both actually. I publish my and my mother's books, as well as a few other authors. Under my own company ____ Publishing (editor's note: company name cannot be revealed), a big publishing house.

31: Did you finish the story about Ronald and Lauren?
51: I'm glad you asked about that. I did. Won a few awards for it, and a filmmaker buddy made it into a movie. Can't tell you who plays Ronald though. Can't spoil the surprise.
31: Oh my goodness, this is unbelievable. I actually accomplish something.
51: And so much more.
31: This is amazing to hear.

31: As you may recall, I'm worried about turning 40, getting older scares me. What's it like to be 51?
51: Wow, did I really sound this sickening back then? No offense, youngin', but complaining about 40? Must be nice. But to answer your question, it feels just like 31. Except I'm 51. My mind hasn't changed but my body is playing by its own rules. Menopause finally came, to answer your other question you asked when you were 12.

31: Do you have children?
51: Eleven. You do become a foster parent, Jennifer. Eleven special men and women refer you as 'Ma.' And eight little boys and girls call you 'Big Ma.'
31: Oh my goodness, really?

31: Are you still different? You know what I mean don't you?
51: Yes. And yes, I'm still different. But check this out, I fit in a little bit more now. Mean people went out of style some years ago. 'Please' and 'thank you' are normal things to hear from everyone these days. Chivalry even came back. All the good decent women who want to be married are, I tell you the world is pretty nice.
31: Really? Am I to believe what I am hearing?
51: And get this. A study found that C average students are better people and have longer life spans than overachievers. Scholarship committees all over the world now treat people of average intelligence and academic ability with respect and give them a chance too.
31: I'm stunned, I'm just stunned. You mean, in your time, people like us are eligible for free rides too?
51: Yes, Virginia, there is indeed a Santa Claus.

51: Anything else you want to know, I really must get back to my life and you must return to yours. Being that this whole thing totally goes against the rules of the universe, time travel, and parallel dimensions.
31: Is there anything I should avoid? You know, any people to stay away from?
51: Do you like who I am Jennifer?
31: Of course. We're amazing.
51: Well if I told you what to avoid then you'd never learn what you need to get here. Just keep trusting your instinct. And regardless of how unfair things appear, don't let it change you. Now I must take my leave of you, Sweety. Take care of yourself okay?

31: Wait, one more thing. Do you ever meet that person who finally sees you. Really sees who and what you are?
51: Yes. We finally do.

I Have to Do What the Voices Say, Or Else!!

So I was sitting at work, reformatting bulleted lists and other fun editor stuff, when my characters Knowledge and Sweety decided to pay me a little mental visit. They expressed their concern...let me stop lying, they were angry with me and felt that I played them in "Sweety's Finale" (Sept. 12 post) and that I was too sleepy to even try to tackle the complexity of their relationship. I thought about it, revisited what I wrote, and ultimately concluded that they were correct. I didn't give that scene justice, not the way Knowledge and Sweety presented it to me. I rushed home to try to make things right. Knowledge, Sweety, my apologies. Is this more to your liking? Geez, do you see how hard it is when you care about these people you create? You don't do right by them, they will come back, and you have to do what the voices say, or else. -Jennifer Singleton ("the great")

Sweety's Finale

Raymond "Papi" Carter disconnected the call with Sweety and lie in bed for a few minutes, contemplating what he should do now that she had taken him up on his offer. It was true that he and a group of wishmasters acted out peculiar requests, but this was done only in his online interactive world Terror and Pleasure Garden. His clients had avatars and paid pricey membership fees for this elaborate role play. In the beginning he assumed Sweety knew it wasn't "real," but by her questions realized she really believed he and a masked gang set to the streets to fulfill thrill seekers' fantasies. Papi wanted to clear things up, but she was so fascinated about it all that his ego wouldn't allow him to reveal the truth. Besides, the thought of actually bringing these "setups" to life had begun to excite him in ways that fantasy had ceased to do long ago. And now, after patient nudging, sweet little Sweety had finally given in.

He didn't have much time to put things into action, so many thoughts were running through his mind along with possible coconspirators. Manor Park had a small pond that would be perfect for the drowning simulation. Grand Punisher, his next door neighbor and first wishmaster would be the perfect choice. He had a preference for "thick" ladies and also enjoyed rough encounters, so he would know exactly how to handle Sweety who would assuredly be fighting with all she had. Papi rarely involved himself in the "games" between his players, he was more a moderator than anything. But as he searched his mind for the perfect choice to induce her pleasure, he could think of no other than himself. Papi wanted to be the one to experience this. Over the course of their getting to know each other, he had started to develop some type of feeling for her, he couldn't help it.

Sweety was was the most naive grown woman he'd ever encountered and seemed so much in need of love, any kind of love really. She had only one picture on her blog Loserville, Population: Me, a "shoulder up" shot, the sign of someone with fat to hide. Sweety wasn't a sexy woman...not yet anyway; it was her potential that aroused him, that appealed to that innate investigator in him to figure out the right combination to unlock the uninhibited freak beneath. Still, she seemed like the nicest woman left on earth, and though she'd undoubtedly been outcast from the dating world, carried herself like she was worth something anyway. If the circumstances were different, he wouldn't mind being that long-term shoulder that she needed.

Gus, "Grand Punisher," listened intently as Raymond described how he thought the scenario should go, choosing to wait before expressing his disbelief at the idea of bringing the game to real life. Gus, a high school buddy of Raymond, used to get off on the whole terror and pleasure thing when he became the Terror and Pleasure Garden's first wishmaster three years before. But since becoming more involved with a group of gods and earths and coming into a knowledge of self, was losing interest in playing online sex and punishment games.

When his friend was finished, Gus stood and said "I knew this would happen one day. I knew that one day you would get bored and want to raise the bar. Really think about the things you want us to do to that lady. How do you know she won't go to the police and have us arrested and charged with multiple felonies."
"I can say for a fact that she will never tell a soul; on my net worth she won't. Come on, G, just help me out this one time, I won't ask you to do it again. I just want to know what it's like. And she's down with it. It's not like she's scared about it. It'll be the most exciting thing that's ever happened to her and isn't that what we're all about?"
"If I help you out with this, Ray, I want out after it's done. Grand Punisher will be retired. Agreed?"
"Alright man, if that's what you want. But don't half ass this tonight, take it as far as you can."

After it was all over, Gus watched Papi walk the cold, shaking, and crying woman back to her car. Papi looked back at him and gave him a thumbs up followed by the peace sign. Gus understood it as "good job man" and "a deal is a deal."

******

Three days after the phone call brought the memory Raymond "Papi" Carter back in her life...

Sweety grabbed her $10 bill and keys off the counter and rushed to open the door for who she assumed was the Chinese takeout delivery guy ringing the bell. This was his fastest time yet. But her eyes meet a visitor she wasn't expecting to see. Knowledge the God, the beautiful man who had brought joy into her world then took it back when he disappeared mysteriously, stood there with eyes reddened and tired from crying or lack of sleep, or both.
"Knowlege? Hey." Even though she still cared for this man, there was something very eerie in the atmosphere, so much so that she was thankful that her burglar door was locked.
"Sweety, I...I...I'm sorry about leaving you hanging like that. Oh man, wow, I know I gotta do this but it's hard."
"What's going on?"
"I stopped calling you because I was starting to fall for you and my guilt couldn’t let me reciprocate."
"Guilt over what?"
Knowledge put his head down as he struggled with the right words. "We didn’t meet at the bookstore, we met in Manor Park. I'm the man who drug you to the pond." Knowledge’s voice cracked and he dropped his head in shame.

As strong as Sweety was trying to be on the inside, her entire body began to tremble. She began to feel dizzy and grasped the burglar door for support. Knowledge reached out to gently touch her fingers but she jerked them away.
"Are you serious?"
"It was me."
"How can this be happening? Why are you doing this to me? Are you after more kicks? Come on, after a year? How sick are you?"
"I haven’t talked to Ray since that night. I don't do that anymore, I swear."
"So when we met at the bookstore, what was that about? Were you Knowledge, or a wishmaster?"
"Knowledge. When you and I started talking, I realized who you were. I wanted to walk away, but knew that I had to repent in some kind of way by showing you the best person I could be. Then after a while I got scared. I'm not here for kicks, Sweety, I’m here because I care a lot about you."
"And you don't associate with him anymore?"
"No."
"Why, because of me?"
"Not entirely. You just change."
"Just like that? How do I know this isn't part two, or that you aren't trying to hurt me?"
"I came here to make amends for taking things too far, and then not telling you who I was before now. Forgive me for that. But if you want to treat me like I'm some monster who kidnapped an unsuspecting woman, let me remind you that you cam eon your own. I know Raymond and I'm sure he didn't ask you to meet him for a candlelit picnic. You were holding the teddy bear, which meant that you must have read the note that was attached to it. Remember the note? "If you untie me from this fence you consent to play" I wrote that, that's how I know what it says. I was trying to give you an out, which you didn't take, because I wasn't convinced you knew what the Terror and Pleasure Garden was really about."

Sweety unlocked the burglard door as the delivery guy sprinted toward them with her takeout order. He offered a pleasant greeting, but the transaction remained silent as he observed the couple's stoic expressions.

Sweety wanted to close the door and leave Knowledge standing there, she really did. But his stare was so intense and communicative that it was captivating. Here stood a man who in such a short period of time had helped her expand her knowledge of different cultures, music, and schools of thought. Brutish wishmaster turned profound poet, fellow bookworm, seeker of enlightenment, and rare soul who took direction from his heart instead of his eyes.

"Well I should go and let you enjoy your food. I just wanted to look you in the face and tell you the truth about what I did, and to tell you that I enjoyed getting to know you, but if I can’t be honest with someone, I have a hard time being in their presence. That's why I left. I came back to see if...nevermind. I hope that you find it in your heart to forgive me." With that, Knowledge turned to leave.

Sweety had to make a decision, but feared whatever she chose would only have her doubting her judgment. If she banished him, she'd wonder if he was her meant to be; an odd and less than magical first meeting, yes, but her soul mate nonetheless. And she did agree to be a player in Papi's game, request it even, right? If she forgave and agreed to continue where they left off without first putting him through hell and back, he might lose respect for her for making it too easy for him. She was very experienced with the consequences of not acting the part of the angry, neck-rolling, car-keying, out for revenge bitch, who interestingly, men claimed to despise yet found utterly irresistible. Was she insane? Who in their right mind would even be standing there pondering an option other than slamming the door?

"I went to see Rakim El perform at Dojo last week, I remember you telling me about him." Knowledge looked back with a surprised smirk.
"Wow, really. He’s phenomenal, did you enjoy it?"
"Yeh. And I even understood a little of what he was saying because of the lessons we used to talk about." Knowledge smiled like he was proud of her. There was the guy she remembered.

The adrenaline that was dispatched in apprehension earlier had now received another assignment from the control center. One that left Sweety feeling helpless as the corners of her mouth began to tilt upwards, and her system began to receive frantic messages from her senses, which had started processing the warm, earthy aroma of the homemade body oil Knowledge's skin had absorbed, the firm but gentle tone of his voice, the fact that this man was the first one to ever show up at her door of his own accord. The first who just had to see her.

"Are you hungry?"
"A little."
“So let’s eat.”
Knowledge appeared hesitant to enter her apartment.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Sweety. It’s so very nice to meet you.”
"Hi, Sweety. My given name is Gus Josephson, but I ask that you refer to me as Knowledge the God, or Knowledge."
“Would you care to come in, Knowledge? I need some help devouring my steamed vegetables and fried rice?”
"Why thank you. But, I need to know something, for real, Sweety...do you forgive me?"
"I forgive you. Come on let's eat." Sweety Fisher bit her bottom lip in appreciation as her eyes followed the former wishmaster's impressive frame.

The bizarre god who controlled her world was at it again, never satisfied with the cruelties he directed her way. Surely, the reveal of the man she had fallen for as the masked one who had held her under water should have been frightening, driving her further into depression. But strangely, Sweety welcomed this surprise. She stopped trying to make sense of her life long ago. She'd come to realize that her life would consist of bizarre opportunities to step out of her boring character, to make her fantasies reality; and that she could either choose to ride the wave and enjoy it, or run away and hide. She wanted to start riding. To indulge that insatiable appetite that Papi had correctly surmised existed inside of her.

Though she'd blocked out Papi's face and the events of that night, her body kept a back up file and remembered what it felt out there, gentle hands on her breasts, a firm grip around her neck. When Sweety attempted to relive the pleasure at her own hands, she couldn't even come close. And now, the person who could make it happen had returned, and whether he would want to or not, would have no choice but to play a new kind of game, one that would ease her nagging suffering...over and over and over again.

The End