Hello, all!

Once again, I have been reminded that my highly idiosyncratic writing methods are far from universal, because of folk’s online reactions to me passingly referencing what I call the “evil treatment plan method of plotting”. So, this month I thought I’d share that method with you all.

But before I get into that, it’s come to my attention that when my signoff updated, the link to the newsletter-subscriber-exclusive novelette, Doll’s Eye View was removed, and a lot of newer subscribers don’t even realize it’s there for them! Have a peek—it’s a short, cute story from Martin’s point of view that takes place between Secondhand Origin Stories and Names in Their Blood, and features Martin trying to design a body for themself, with the help of friends and family.

Ok, so, as per usual, all my my talk about writing is just reflective of how I write, and not a guarantee that anything I’m doing to wrangle my specific brain into making books will work for literately anyone else. But it’s fun to get a peek behind the curtain of how others do things, if just to see how varied the processes are.

To understand how I got here you have to understand first that I’m a therapist as well as an author. That means that a key part of my job is understanding how people change over time— for better, for worse, or just for weirder. That’s a lens that’s just in my head pretty much all the time, and I can’t help it bleeding into my writing process.

Which is fine, because it’s useful for me. Writers start at all kinds of different angles. Some come up with a world they want to explore (Tolkein is the go-to example of this), others a theme they want to explore (very literary), others have a plot concept (common in classic scifi)or even a trope they want to play with (romance is especially known for this). These are all great approaches that work for a wide array of people and stories.

But, like many authors who first got their feet wet in fanfiction, I generally start off with a character. I’ve generated characters since I was little. Well, a lot of kids generate characters. I just never stopped doing it. But I didn’t start writing till my 30s because I was never sure how to get a good story going out of those characters.

My writing started then specifically because that’s when I stumbled onto this method of thinking about it (spurred on, as always, by my fantastic spouse Tybalt).

Here’s how it goes: I begin with the character, then I think about how I want that character to change. Not necessarily improve, but change. Maybe I want them to realize something about themself. Maybe I want them to develop some new perspective on others, or a system they interact with, or the world at large. Maybe I want to change their relationship to queerness, or disability, or family. The opportunities are endless!

Then, do that for every important character I want to include. That means, at the least, every character whose eyes we see through, and anyone who is impacted directly by those character’s arcs. So, if someone is changing their relationship to their father, then their father also needs a character arc at least sketched out. Because that main character’s changes have to impact the people and relationships around them in some way, to feel like it’s mattered.

Sometimes that could just be “that other character digs in their heels and refuses change against mounting pressure.” I’m not going to tend to do that with main characters, but that’s a viable way for secondary or tertiary characters to react to my main character, if necessary.

And it’s not until I’ve done all of that that I start to worry about my plot.

Here’s where the “evil treatment plan” part comes in. In therapy, I develop non-evil treatment plans, trying to find the most painless way to guide my clients from one way of thinking and feeling to another, at their request. We explore together, brainstorm together, release barriers together.

That makes good therapy.

But not always a great book. Honestly, writers who can pull that off are intimidating to me. I would not be able to write something so tranquil that’s still meaningful, although others certainly have. I always feel compelled to add a bit of anguish and the flashier forms of catharsis to my own work.

Which means, as I explore how to get my characters from psychological point A to psychological point B, a lot of decidedly un-gentle, untheraputic methods are on the table. Drop them off a building. Toss them down a mass grave hole. Get a genetic modification cult involved. Not that gentler moments don’t play their part—I love when characters help each other to grow through care and communication. But sometimes I can’t resist, as Twitter used to say, “cracking them like a geode.” Sometimes I have to push them to a breaking point for them to relinquish a belief I’m poking at.

Critically, I figure out all of those journeys together, because that allows me to weave them together. When this character is hitting a breaking point in their arc, how does that impact the character interacting with them? Can that moment move that character along their journey as well?

The plot, then, becomes a vehicle for those character arc moments. I’ll decide when an antagonist needs to do a particular thing because that’s when I need to hit this character arc beat for them to get to the end by the end of the book. Or, a clue could be revealed at a specific point because the character has to confront a reality or be deceived about some aspect of their arc. Every scene where a character has a point of view has some connection to their arc, even if it’s a subtle one.

I pick my antagonists based around what kinds of challenges I need to set for my main characters arc. If the character is coping with their relationship to authority, let’s bring in a prison owner or a government official. If they’re dealing with ghosts or family secrets, then we gotta get in someone who was there for those family secrets. The antagonists also get at least a bit of this treatment, although it may be smaller, or spread over multiple books. I like to be a bit scanty with my villians’ page time.

Then, it’s a matter of balancing the wins and losses, discoveries and lies, and making sure that what’s happening is clear, relatable, and keeping readers engaged. If I’ve done my job, readers get invested in the progress and setbacks as the character develops over time. They celebrate the wins and understand when a character makes a terrible decision.

If that sounds tricky—it is. But it’s also really fun, and so far people seem to enjoy the results.

For this month’s action item request, I’d ask you to contact your representative to say that you oppose the Trump Administration’s attempts to roll back a 20+ year old cornerstone of nature conservation by retracting the “roadless rule”. You can read up on that easily and quickly right here.

As always, thank you for inviting me into your inbox this month, and feel free to respond to this or any of my newsletters at the link below that opens this newsletter online.

‘Til next time,

Lee Brontide