Day of Rest and Review, Part 2

Two weeks ago, the first part of my series of two posts on a "day of rest and review" was featured on the Holy Worlds blog. Here's the opening of part 2, published today.

In part 1, I discussed the concept of a “DoRR”: a Day of Rest and Review devoted to God and centered on your writing. Just to recap, here’s the overall structure I suggested for your day:

1. Begin with Scripture, prayer, and journaling.
2. Look Back
3. Look Now
4. Look Ahead
5. Close in Scripture, prayer, and journaling.

In today’s post, I’ll take a closer look at the “meat” of the DoRR—the three middle portions of look back, look now, and look ahead.

Read the rest of the blog post at this link. And, for a dose of much-needed writing humor, here is Calvin and Hobbes.

A Recipe for a Dark Lord

In the last post, we talked about how to kill off our villains. However, that doesn't help anything if we don't have a villain to kill off in the first place!  Before we begin, though, why do you need a villain at all? 

Here's why: every story is only as good as its villain. The villain is the one who opposes the hero, who prevents him/her from meeting his/her goals. Without the villain, your story has no conflict—no purpose. Without the villain, your hero could do and have whatever he wanted, instantly, without any obstacles. Without a villain, your story would be--prepare yourself!--boring.

Okay, so you need a villain. That still leaves an important question: how does one go about creating a Dark Lord of the Universe? After all, sometimes it can get a little tough to think of a really evil villain on your own. That’s where this post comes in. I decided to mix and stir and bake an arch-evil-villain, so that all of you can read my recipe, be impressed by all the hours I spent slaving over a hot computer, and bake your own villains.

So, without further ado: a recipe for creating your very own Dark Lord.

4 cups goal

3 cups motivation

6 tablespoons backstory, sifted

2 handfuls minor villains

1.5 teaspoons weakness

½  cup accessories

1 pinch gold or lapis lazuli

Preheat the oven to 873 degrees Celsius (1,603.4 Fahrenheit).

In a large black bowl, combine goal, motivation, and backstory. Blend at light speed for ten minutes, until dough forms blackish lump. Should have the same consistency throughout

(Note: the villain should want something—his goal—that is directly opposite what the hero wants. Your villain must have a good reason for wanting this goal—a motivation. Usually, the motivation is not isolated in space and time, but is the result of the villain’s history and upbringing—his backstory. You need all three of these elements to make the villain believable.)

In a separate, smaller bowl, stir minor villains until thawed. Then quickly fold into the main batter until completely engulfed.

(Note: minor villains are important because your hero always, always, always needs opposition. Without opposition, there’s no suspense or tension or conflict in your story. In other words, it’s boring. But, hey, your arch-villain can’t be everywhere at once, can he? So that’s where the minor villains come in. Minor villains provide conflict against the hero in minor situations. Usually, they’re tied to the main villain and the main conflict of the story as well.)

Add the weakness and knead carefully, spreading weakness throughout the whole lump. This is a most delicate phase—too many weaknesses will make the dough fall apart, but too few will make it dry and fossilized.

(Note: in other words, your villain can’t be all-powerful. He needs to be relatable, and the way to do this is to bring in weaknesses. Often, you can find his/her weaknesses if you dig around enough in the villain’s past.)

Once weaknesses have been kneaded in, sprinkle accessories on top. This is the point in the recipe where you can add your own distinct flair: the curling walrus moustache, the pocketwatch that doubles as a sword, the bright red hair standing on end, or the evil villain cape of awesomeness, for example.

Bake for 1,095 days in the back burner of your mind. Remove from oven and let sit. Should be burned black around the edges.

If desired, add a pinch of gold or lapis lazuli for effect. Serve frozen or boiled in the lava of revenge.

Feeds 1 story.

Why Humor Will Make or Break Your Story

You may think that humor is an unnecessary nuisance when writing your story. You want your stories to be serious, full of deep life lessons and morals which people can apply to their lives. You may, indeed, believe that books would be more enjoyable without humor. In fact, you might wonder why I'm writing a post about humor at all.


On the other hand, you might be a compulsive comedian. Your writing may be littered with thousands of second-rate riddles and characters who seem to crack a joke at every opportunity. You believe that humor will engage your readers and make them enjoy their experience in your world. What could be wrong with that?


As it turns out, both of these views are a little...extreme. If you write without any humor at all, what's to stop the story from being dry and stuffy? And if you use too much humor, your reader will wonder whether even you think of your writing seriously.


In my view, at least a sprinkle of humor is absolutely necessary in every story. Yes, you heard right--every story.


"But," you might say, "I want to be like the great authors! Tolkien never used humor!"


Oh really? Then how do you explain Merry and Pippin, archetypal jokesters who had me laughing from the first few pages? If you're not convinced, here's a little except to tantalize your funny bone:

Aragorn: "Gentlemen, we do not stop till nightfall." Pippin: "What about breakfast?" Aragorn: "You've already had it." Pippin: "We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?" Merry: "I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip." Pippin: "What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?" Merry: "I wouldn't count on it. ” 

Examples of humor abound across all reams of fantastic literature--Fred and George, the beloved Weasley twins from the Harry Potter series; even Mr. and Mrs. Beaver from C.S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. The recent Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan is chock full of humorous references to modern life. If you think a fantasy book doesn't have humor in it, then look closer--I'd bet that, more likely than not, it does.

Now, none of that is to advocate for a book that's completely fun and games. As writers, we strive to give our readers a powerful emotional experience, one that will make them laugh and cry, shout with joy and scream with fear.

What is the mark of a truly great book? That it can plumb the depths and soar to the heights of human emotions. That's the kind of book that, when readers put it down at last, they'll sigh and say, "Now that was a good read." That's the kind of book that we're trying to write, and that's the kind of book that a touch of humor can help us create.