Whether you study the ancient seven planets, the seven invisible energy centers known as chakras, or the seven groups of Bach flower remedies, there’s a clear message:

Seven is the ancient number of human completion along ancient spiritual paths.   Each of those seven steps along the path is rich with character strengths and flaws.

Complex stories arise when characters come into conflict because they are:

• Facing the same external issue while facing separate internal issues.  If the issue is a missing child, for example, one could be coming from fear (root chakra) and another investigator could be committed to solving the case only because of personal power issues (navel chakra).   Even as allies, they won’t feel connected until each grows through the issues of the chakra or emotion.
• Or they may be facing the same core problem, but with important differences.  Bach’s fear group, for example, includes fear of loss of control and four other kinds of fear.   In a thriller, people experiencing different fears would have similar lessons and still find it hard to relate to each other until each learned his or her particular lesson.

Seven is a good base number, just as Bach’s full 38 is a full, complete list of character types.   Astrology, numerology and tarot contribute their own lists, as does the Hebrew alphabet.  

What every author needs is a reminder list that stirs memories and rouses the ghost of Agatha Christie’s Miss Jane Marple within your soul–a system that makes you say, with Miss Marple, oh that reminds me of so-and-so from my village (my life or the gossip I’ve heard) and the way that went is…

Bach is probably best known today for his Rescue Remedy, a blend of flower remedies.   Tori Warner-Shepard, author of Now Silence, when I was a younger psychic and new real estate sales associate.   Since then, I’ve given Rescue Remedy credit for cushioning a lot of emotional shocks–more from family life and my work as a professional psychic than my Tori’s and my then-shared profession of real estate sales.   Although that, too, has its stories.

As an emotionally drained caregiver, I turned to other Bach remedies.   One of my M.D.s who shared a history of allergies suggested I turn to homeopathics whenever over-the-counter remedies were appropriate, and I’ve valued his suggestion, too.

But today, I’m not recommending a healing process.  I’m recommending story characters.  Easy-access characters, great story triggers, all on one website.

Because each of the 38 traditional remedies is designed for a personality type who’s likely to get in trouble.  My kind of character–someone whose whole heart and soul leads her into trouble and conflict she can’t resolve without personal growth.

The 38 character-types are archetypal, powerful–and, for me at least, easier to “see” in modern fiction than some of the mythological archetypes.

I’ll be interested to see what the rest of  you think.

His lesson on eliminating “ly” words was an eye-opener for me, so I got permission from Don to share it with all of you.   Of course I knew (going back to my own copy editing days) that “ly” words make weak writing–but Don showed me what an important small step this change is.

So here’s Don:

Back in my newbie years I heard someplace that I should eliminate “-ly” words.  I had no idea why, but that was the common advice, so I accepted it.  Later, I realized my writing was sharper.  But why would that be?  Years later, while writing dialogue for a scene, the reason hit me.  It can be explained by two words: author intrusion.

To illustrate, consider this sentence, which is indicative of many writing samples from unpublished writers:  “I’ll advise you to stop doing that,” he said, angrily.

How do we know he said this angrily?  Well, the author told us!  After the character said his line, the author poked his reader’s shoulder and said, “That thing the character said?  It was said in an angry manner.  I just wanted you to know that.”

Here’s a more vivid explanation.  You’ve just taken your seat at a theatre on opening night.  The lights dim and the curtain opens on two actors.  The female actor steps forward and says, “John, I wish you hadn’t done that.”

The theatre lights suddenly go bright and the director bounds onto the stage, waving his arms.  He stares at the audience.  “That thing the character said?  I just wanted you to know it was said in an angry manner.  Do we all understand that?”  Satisfied that we do, he disappears behind the curtain and the actors again take their places.  John says, “Well, it wasn’t my fault,” and that director prances back onto the stage to tell us John was miffed, perhaps even a bit petulant.

Do you think you could settle in and enjoy that play?

What’s the solution?  The way our sample dialogue is now, with those “-ly” words, the author is TELLING us how the lines were said.  Let’s let the characters themselves SHOW us their frames of mind, perhaps like this:

“I’ll advise you to stop doing that.”  His hands formed fists at his sides.

Let’s look at another way to show the character’s feelings.  Consider this dialogue:  “Don’t you think we’d better stop?” she asked, anxiously.

There’s that author again, telling us how the characters think.  What’s another way to show she said her line anxiously?  Well, we can alter what she says so that there’s no question, and no need for the author to butt in.  Perhaps like this:  “My God, shouldn’t we stop?”

Author intrusion is only one problem with using “-ly” words.  Redundancy is another.  The above quote uses an adverb (the -ly word), a frequently seen redundancy.  If someone said “Now, now” to you, wouldn’t you immediately classify it as a mild statement?  Do we really need an outsider—the author—to tell us it was, by using “mildly?”  We are being told twice, and that makes it a redundancy.

This is also an instance of author intrusion.  The adverb adds nothing and in fact detracts from our story involvement.  If a quote seems to need an “-ly” word, change the quote so that it doesn’t.  Edit the above example to:  “Now, now,” he said.

Here’s another example:  “It’s none of your business!” she said hotly.

That exclamation mark says she was hot, doesn’t it?  Change this to:  “It’s none of your business!” she said.

Where possible, leave out the dialogue tag completely.  This is true especially when there’s a rapid-fire exchange between characters, like this:

“It’s none of your business!”

“Now, Betty, I was only asking . . .”

“You men.  You come in here and . . .”

Is there any question about who said what?  Or how they said it?

Adverbs are frequently overused in non-quoted material and often are redundant.  Compare this sentence . . . Amy quickly jumped up.  . . . with this one:  Amy jumped up.  The latter is stronger, don’t you think?  Besides, how could one jump slowly?  Aha!  Another form of redundancy.

One more:  “She quickly jerked the hat off her head.”  Compare that with:  “She jerked the hat off her head.”  Or, better yet:  “She jerked off her hat.”

More action, less fog.

• If you don’t have a good critique group, contests are important for the feedback.  Know in advance, though, what feedback to expect and who will provide it.   Some contests don’t provide feedback at all (Golden Heart, for example.)  Some feedback comes from readers, some from published authors and some from editors and agents.
• If your book is ready to pitch, and there’s a contest whose final judge is an editor or agent to whom you’d like to submit, contests may get you out of the slush pile.  The better the preliminary judges, the more likely it is that the final judges will actually see the work that is closest to publishable.
• If you want to get feedback on your love scenes or you opening hook, try a specialized contest.   They’re often less expensive and it’s easier for a group to train judges for a contest with just one or two things to judge.

• If you haven’t completed enough of the book to know you can write it no matter what some judge says, the work isn’t ready for contests and the possibility of clumsy rejection.
• If the editor or agent who will be the final judge doesn’t work in your genre, save your postage for another time.  An editor who hates ghost stories won’t love your paranormal suspense even if it’s polished enough for New York.
• If your writing budget is really tight and you’d have to work overtime to pay for contests, focus on writing first.
• If you already have outstanding credentials that will get you out of the slush pile, you may want to skip all but the major contests.  If your resume says you have twenty years’ experience working in a morgue, you can probably get out of the slush pile with a mystery publisher with a good query letter.

Like many other people I treasure, Sally came into my life by serendipity.  A friend said, “There’s this writing workshop…” and I said, “Writing?  Why not?”  There were two workshops, both taught by Sally in a single week end.   I still have the notes twenty years later (and still use them) and now Sally is teaching a for Writers Online .Classes in August.  Her workshop will be on Cross-Genre writing, and here’s a little of what Sally has to say about the power of Cross-Genre work.

“Cross-Genre Knowledge is Empowering”

By Sally J. Walker

Most writers create stories similar to their reading tastes or live up to that adage “Write what you like to read!”  Some writers consciously write to a specific market, as in “Write to your reader expectations.”  But what happens when your style of storytelling COULD pull in more readers from other genres with their own set of expectations?

Well, that requires an understanding of the expectations of the scope of and details of those other genres.  Incorporating those expectation elements can result in “Cross-Genre Appeal” and that is precisely what my up-coming course at Writers Online Classes will be all about.

I have found a particular appeal, even a challenge to deliberately weaving in types of characters and plot structures from various OTHER genres than the main genre I am writing in.  The practice stimulates my creative process, my growth as a writer.  The possibilities are endless.

At this very moment I am writing a Christian western romance.  Each of those three genres dictate conventions, limits and specific elements I must work at everyday so that a reader favoring any one of the three genres will be satisfied.  I don’t want to be predictable nor boring.  I want my characters to be unique and my plot events to be convoluted yet logical to the sequences I create.  It is hard work to maintain a well-crafted literary flow as I do all that . . . but, WOW, is it gratifying when I am “in the zone” and story flows out of my mind and into my fingertips.

My awareness made me think of other stories I have created:  an action-adventure romantic mystery (When Eagles Scream, a screenplay), a contemporary western horror (Eyes of the Cat, another screenplay), a children’s Scottish fantasy (The Legend of the Golden Rose, a read-aloud picture book), an historical romantic suspense (Please Believe in Passion, a novel) then on and on through my portfolio.  As I objectively assessed each of the projects I have completed, I discovered  a subconscious effort to write cross-genre stories all along.

This AWARENESS empowered me as I revised each of my works readying them for marketing.  I identified where I could trim blatant elements to artistic subtlety and where I could enhance thin elements to meet the expectations of readers (and editors) in OTHER genres I could market to.

Subsequently, I encountered writers who did not understand other genre expectations but likewise wanted to write for a broader appeal that would increase their own chances of selling a project.  So, I took my notes of the various genres, studied them in depth to verify my own observations AND researched the dictates of genre experts to create a succinct series of lessons in “how to” do that very thing, deliberately write for cross-genre appeal.  for me, the study and practice has proven that adage “Knowledge is power.”

What a hoot to share with others in a succinct, time-saving manner and empower them!

Maybe I should call it the piggy bank Moon.

Before the day is out, I’ll start a new piggy bank for something special I want to buy.   The juicier the better, I think, but Taurus is both sensuale and practical, so you can use Taurus energy for almost anything.

Taurus does rule both banking and personal property, so you could save to invest in a new scanner or to buy extravantly gorgeous lingerie or  to make a down payment on something big like a car or college tuition.

Taurus rules money and banking, but not personal debts; debts come under Scorpio.  So whatever you plan to do with money under a Taurus moon will work better if it’s for a cash purchase.

You can set aside at little as a penny.   And add to your fund every month when the Moon’s in Taurus, even if you can only add another penny or two at that time.   It’s the stability and constancy of Taurus you’re looking for.   Of course, you can and probably will add to the funds between Taurus Moons, but you’ll want to refresh the magic with a new investment whenever the Moon’s in Taurus.

In Mountain Time, the Moon goes void just after midnight Thursday morning, so take action today.

I can’t get to the bank today, so I’ll put a little change in a pretty box on my dresser and dedicate that money to my new car.  The one I haven’t picked out yet, but know I want.

And when I decide on a car, I’ll just slip its picture under the box for luck.

But there’s no luck to saving under a Taurus Moon.  Astrologers have been doing it for centuries, just as farmers have been planting under Taurus moonbeams.  Things grow in Taurus, and what better than money?

Tarot is metaphors with images Tarot images, like the visual patterns of an astrology chart, supplement the metaphorical meanings and trigger ideas and options.

While astrologers and psychic readers are expected to provide information and content during a consultation, coaches are often more effective when they simply ask questions.   A creativity coach, for example, has expertise in the creative process but not necessarily in the field in which a client works.   So the astrologer provides metaphors and the coach provides questions .

Coaching has a greater focus on the client’s personal responsibility for whatever the client wants to accomplish.

Coaching is more open-ended.   Astrology and psychic work usually relate to a defined time period and often to a specific question.   Would my work be handled more effectively by a New York agent, a California agent or someone in another state is a great relocation question for an astrologer–but it’s not a coaching question.

What do you need to know before you choose a locaiton? would be a good coaching approach.

So I’m back from my “sabbatical year” of minimal work with astrology while I focused on coaching.   Coaching by the stars is my own metaphor for working with clients with either set of tools.   Of course, astrology clients still have to provide time, place and date of birth.   Coaching clients only have to bring a curious mind or a goal or a vision.

1.  Both coaching and astrology focus on moving from the present into the future.   Astrology is a tool for looking at the present and future symbolically and making responsible and responsive choices.   Coaching looks at our dreams and visions and develops strategies for resolving internal and external conflicts and building moment.   So they share a future-oriented perspective (as opposed to therapy, for example, which focuses on the past and its impact on the present moment.)

2.  In the hands of an experienced astrologer, astrology opens a conversation that expands rather than restricts a person’s options.   Coaching and astrology both look at present resources, risk factors, and commitment as factors in planning a successful future.

3.  Coaching raises questions–and while you’d think of astrology as answering questions more often than it asks them, astrology actually excels in asking questions, too.   The symbols of astrology are open-ended enough to expose multiple possibilities for each event.   And I often think good coaching begins with asking enough questions to help people find a goal and develop at least three potential ways to reach that goal.

So it’s not surprising that I sometimes reach for a coaching client’s astrology chart when we work on timing questions or shift gears with an astrology client and raise the kinds of questions that coaches ask.   What once seemed like an either/or choice now seems to me to be the best of both.

In Red Oak, Iowa, my home town, they still fly the funeral flags of our hometown veterans on Memorial Day.   Among them are two men I loved who came back:  My father and my grandmother’s brother, who was my surrogate grandfather:  Charles Arthur Reese and Philo Douglas Clark.

The stories they told me as a child were wildly exaggerated and made war sound like a great adventure.   Today I might dialogue with Uncle Philo about his real memories of World War One.   Dialogues aren’t limited to living people.

You could also dialogue with the condition of living in a world at war, and you might be surprised at what you discover for your own life and your writing.

Or this may be a chance to say good-bye in dialogue–or hello to someone you never got to meet.

Dialoguing is simple:   Sit quietly and breathe slowly and deeply.   Write a name on the journal page and make a short list of up to a dozen milestones in that person’s life, remembering that you are only one of those milestones.   Then close your eyes and imagine that person or something representing the situationn in front of you.

Close your eyes.

Write:  Hello or some other greeting.

Listen and record what you hear or understand.

Write your next sentence.   Continue until the conversation drops.

Ask if there’s anything else.

Sit in silence a little longer, waiting.

And when it’s really done, jot down a summary sentence for yourself or maybe a reminder about what you want to take into the rest of your life from this moment.