Creative Writing – David R Lord

That Which Remains Unseen …

A look at the process of creating characters that never actually get seen.

Some of the greatest characters are the ones we never get to see. This sounds odd, I’ll give you that, but hear me out. I’ll soon be returning to the biggest manuscript I’ve ever attempted. The delay in editing is intentional, as I believe I’ll be able to tackle this 228,000 word piece better if I do so having forgotten most of what I had written. What I do recall, however, which will need some more attention in edits, is a character I created. A fearsome and, indeed, feared warrior, who will never actually appear in the book. He’ll only be mentioned by others.

This got me thinking lately about the characters who are never actually seen by the reader or viewer. Just like any other character, from the writer’s point of view, they need to be crafted and developed. Any one character can be partly defined by how other characters view them. With the Unseen Character, the reader or viewer must rely entirely on how others view that character, yet the writer must in turn develop that by having a very clear idea of the character. The major difference is that the writer keeps a great deal to themselves. This can be vital, for reasons I’ll get into presently.

From the beginning, the writer must decide if this character is ever going to be seen, and in my view they must stick to that decision no matter what. If you intend this character to make an appearance later in the story, then slowly drip feed details about them to the reader where necessary. It should be enough to capture the reader’s interest, but not be so sensational that you risk disappointing the reader, unless that is indeed part of the story. Reputations are not always deserved, after all, in real life or fiction. I have no intention of ever featuring this character, yet when he is spoken of by others there will be a sense of awe and fear throughout. The fact that he has been defeated by another, more prominent character, will provide a greater sense of awe for that character, and thus his service to the plot has been rendered.

Creating an entire character, even an unseen one, purely for the purpose of world building can have its uses, but a writer must be careful not to litter their work with them. Particularly in fantasy, too many names being thrown about can serve only to confuse the reader, especially if those names end up having no further part to play in the story. This is not to say that the characters in a story must be kept only to the core players, as it were. There is a fine balance between effective world building within a story and effectively writing a full history. In other words, make up a character on the spot if necessary for a one off mention, but do so sparingly.

The reason I say a writer must decide whether a character will eventually be seen or not is that it’s a matter of expectations. If the details about a character are scant yet tantalising, the reader will instantly begin to fill in those details with their own imagination. Although we as writers can never please everyone, this is ever more the case when it comes to Unseen Characters. We run the risk of disappointing our readers, having built up their hopes and their own idea of this character, only to have them dashed to pieces by what the writer actually intended for them. This can, at times, be used as a device to further the plot, or indeed as a bit of comic relief, but if you’re going to build up a character and have them be a major player then be sure to up your game. Make sure they are every bit as honourable or dishonourable as you have made them out to be, and just maybe you’ll exceed the reader’s expectations.

The importance of the Unseen Character as a comic device cannot be overlooked, and there have been one or two examples lately which reinforce my point about deciding from the beginning if this character is ever going to be seen. Comedy is, of course, subjective, and much relies on the audiences own sense of imagination. Comedy allows us to delve into the absurd and the extreme. A character can be described in such a manner that provokes such extreme reactions from others that the character could never actually be portrayed. This is not always the case, of course. Some characters such as Godot in Samuel Beckett’s ‘Waiting For Godot’ is never seen, and is ultimately described very little. His existence, however, is the very reason for the piece and the comedy is generated through the anticipation of his arrival. Of course, he never does (spoiler alert!).

As far as creating characters as a writer, I don’t hold much distinction between crafting a character for a stage play and crafting a character for a television script. Both require the same degree of effort and thought. Let me jump, therefore, to another unseen character, in the form of Mrs. Mainwaring. The wife of Captain Mainwaring, commander of the Walmington-On-Sea Home Guard, is often referred to but never actually seen. She provokes a certain degree of trepidation from her husband, while she herself is well known for being something of a recluse. It is believed that the writers of ‘Dad’s Army’, Jimmy Perry and David Croft, considered featuring her at some point, but the cast agreed that everyone had their own idea of what Mrs. Mainwaring was like, and to reveal her would “destroy the character”. Yet, she appears in the 2016 film version, and this is ultimately what I was talking about. In my view, she was completely different from what had been established in the original series, and the fact that she appeared at all really seemed to fly in the face of this fundamental comedy principle, that the unseen characters should remain unseen. This, of course, takes nothing away from Felicity Montagu’s performance, I just feel that her character could just as easily have been someone other than Mrs. Mainwaring.

Comedy is, quite frankly, one of things that has got me through these last few years. We’ve all had a rough time during this pandemic, and revisiting old favourites has certainly lifted my spirits. There are many examples of Unseen Characters that have been crafted exceedingly well;

Sheridan, Hyacinth Bucket’s spoiled (and very possibly gay) son in ‘Keeping Up Appearances.
Maris, Niles’ wife in ‘Frasier’.
Joe Maplin, the greedy and unscrupulous owner of Maplin’s holiday camp, heard of only through the clipped and reserved reading of his letters by Jeffrey Fairbrother in ‘Hi-de-Hi’.
Stan Walker, the on-again, off-again husband of Karen in ‘Will & Grace’.

Though we may at times take these characters for granted simply because we don’t see them, the fact remains that a writer has still put a great deal of time and energy into crafting them, to ensure they have the right impact on the plot or to have us roaring with laughter at the thought of them. I am looking forward to returning to editing my latest manuscript (even though it is huge), as I am keen to expand this Unseen Character just enough to build up the reader’s own sense of who he is, or rather, who he was.

Take a Break

Why having some time away from writing can be beneficial.

“If you don’t write every day, how can you consider yourself a writer?”

First of all, let’s have none of that. A more unhelpful and unrealistic approach to writing, in my view, does not exist. More than anything else, such a statement is ultimately geared towards making those of us who do not write every day feel inferior. Not as dedicated. Not as good. That’s a mess I’d rather not get into, save for saying that those who espouse such views are guilty of the worst kind of snobbery. Let us instead focus on the positives that come from not just not writing every day, but from taking planned breaks.

I’m currently very much on a break from writing. A planned break. I have not thrown my hands up halfway through a project and decided to give up, though sometimes if a project is causing you distress than taking a short, unplanned break can be immensely beneficial. Our writing is important to us all, but your health must come first. Taking regular breaks, doing something else entirely, not only helps to reduce your stress level but can improve your writing when you do come back, refreshed and ready.

What I mean by a planned break is that I know precisely what projects I will move onto after this break. I have just finished the first draft of a new novel, the word count of which is currently sitting at 228,00. Editing that is going to be a monumental effort, and I’d very much like to feel genuinely rested when I begin to tackle it, coming at it with fresh eyes. There is, of course, a fine line between taking a break and procrastination, but this is where an element of planning comes in.

I shall soon be receiving the manuscript of the third Figment Wars YA novel for my final proofread and seal of approval, ready for publication. This is a vital part of the writing process and will require my full attention when the time comes. I worked extra hard to get the first draft of this other novel done before the manuscript was sent to me, and I have. I’m now enjoying a brief rest period as a reward for that effort. I also know what will signal the end of that break, and what will be required of me. Once I’ve signed off on the manuscript, I have an idea for a One Act play that I shall be tackling. Once that is done, I shall return to the 228,000 word draft and be able to be entirely objective in my editing. The key is planning, knowing which projects you’re going to tackle and in what order. Sometimes there’s a sense of logic and necessity that guides such decisions, other times we have to make some tough choices. We all have a hundred and one ideas floating around in our head. Sometimes you just have to choose, and once you have, stick with it.

Taking this planned break has allowed me to catch up on a few things. I find I’m reading more, and allowing myself to indulge in a few old video games that I’ve always found enjoyable. As restrictions ease I’ve been able to meet up with a few people and catch up with friends. Of course, we can do all these things while we’re working on a writing project. It’s a matter of balance, keeping ourselves driven in writing while not neglecting other aspects of our lives. Still, I am very much a proponent of the idea of taking planned breaks where no writing is done at all. I firmly believe that our best ideas come to us unexpectedly, when we’re at rest. That’s where notepads come in, of course!

Not all writers are able to write full time. The vast majority of us have day jobs and other projects that require our attention. I’m about to return to work in TV and film production as an extra/supporting artiste, something I’m very excited about. During the times when such work is coming thick and fast, it is more than likely that I won’t have much time to write. Forward thinking and planning come into play once again here. Rather than look back and lament the lack of time for writing, I am acknowledging it beforehand and accepting that I will be able to make time for writing later.

Whatever your circumstances, I always advocate making time to rest and take a break from writing every now and then. It can be a gruelling and demanding process, as we all know, so it is important to be kind to yourself. Never beat yourself up if you don’t write every day, and pay no attention to those who would think less of you for it. Life is what we’re all aiming to reflect in our writing, so be sure to make time to live!

Crafting That Brave New World -Vol 4

Volume 4 in my World Building series of blogs, looking at the structure and purpose of the military.

Ten-shun! Stand at ease!

In this latest volume of my ongoing blog documenting my efforts at world building, we shall be looking at the military. Please, as always, keep in mind that this is me sharing my thoughts on an ongoing process, during which I am learning a great deal. I should not necessarily be viewed as an expert, particularly not on matters regarding the military. This blog will look, of course, at fictional armies, how they are structured and the role they play in the fantasy worlds we create.

Our own history proves one thing; you can accomplish a lot when you have an army behind you. Julius Caesar probably would not have cut such an impressive figure had it been him crossing the Rubicon alone. Whether for good or ill, leaders inspire their troops to follow them in their cause. How they go about doing this is something that every writer should consider when creating an army for their world. Essentially, how a leader motivates their troops can be broken down thus.

Fear -This is usually the domain of the antagonist. Hordes of soldiers all doing their master’s bidding through fear of their individual power. One can certainly argue that the orcs under Sauron, while generally unpleasant natured in themselves, function as an army under the fear of his gaze. Fear is a powerful motivator, but can be unstable. Should the leader lose their power or falter in any way, they risk the wroth of their own troops that they have misused for so long.

Reward -While it may seem mundane, the vast majority of troops throughout history and even in fantasy settings do what they do because it’s a job. Going back as far as the Romans, soldiers received yearly pay. Whatever hardships they faced out in the provinces, it was better than starving in the streets due to lack of work. Indeed, each new Roman emperor would seek to secure the loyalty of the legions through large payments upon their ascension. The financial incentive is definitely one to take into account when creating your army. There are other rewards such as being granted citizenship or a plot of land. Soldiers need to make a living just like the rest of us, and most will be looking to their retirement even in the most fantastical of fantasy settings. Rather than just giving them something to fight for, it is important to consider what they’re being given for their fighting.

Common Cause -This is certainly one of the more noble motivations. Keeping our focus on fantasy settings as an example, we can assume that when the Rohirrim rode to Minas Tirith under King Theoden, they did so because of the threat posed by Sauron. A threat that would come to them, and so they rode to the aid of their allies to help deal with the enemy. To the best of my knowledge, Tolkien never went into any kind of detail about how the soldiers of Rohan or Gondor were remunerated for their service, so we are left with the altogether loftier notions of comradery and and unity. However, the same idea of fighting for a common cause can be used to justify terrible actions by an army. Perspective and context, as always, are key.

Now that we have had a look at motivation, let us take a look at structure. On the face of it, the idea of a horde seems the most simple structure for an army. A mass of brutish, horrific fighters, determined to wipe out anything that stands before them. There isn’t anything necessarily wrong with this, if indeed it fits with the structure of your story and the world you are seeking to create. An army with such an apparent lack of structure could only really have one purpose, utter destruction and anarchy. If you have crafted an antagonist for whom this is most definitely a goal, then go for it. Even so, in most hordes there is still some form of structure. Even the Orcs have captains, and of course the Nazgul stand above them. Hierarchy of some form or another can usually be found even in the most chaotic of organisations.

The Romans have always held a particular fascination for me personally, and the way they organised their armies essentially allowed them to become the dominant power of the ancient world. 5,000 soldiers would form a legion, each of these consisting of groups of 80 men called centuries, commanded by a centurion. Many of the armies that have come since have ultimately emulated this approach. Sections, squads, platoons, companies, battalions and regiments are not just words thrown about. Each signifies a number of soldiers and each one feeds into the other when it comes to the structure of the army. It is ultimately a variation of this that I am attempting to work into my own current work.

Geographically, my current work-in-progress is set in a world in which the main continent is governed by a single empire, with various provinces contained within that continent and overseas. Being a fantasy setting, I have elected to make the use of magic fairly commonplace, though some are more skilled than others. This has led to the creation of a form of martial magic, degrees of which are used by the soldiers in this world. The sword is still very much a weapon of choice, wielded by most as well as magic.

Officially, the only single unified and professional army is the Silver Guard, loyal only to the emperor. The emperor commands all, by merit of a talisman gifted by higher beings that affords the emperor a greater command of magic than any other individual. Beneath the emperor are eight sorcerer lords, all of whom wield a less powerful talisman than the emperors. Each would still be a formidable opponent to anyone wielding magic without a talisman. These eight sorcerer lords act essentially as governors for their region of the empire. Each takes on one or more apprentices that they train so as to one day inherit their talisman and command of their region.

Some sorcerer lords keep a contingent of soldiers, men and women trained in the most basic forms of martial magic. Some act as a kind of bodyguard for their sorcerer lord, while some do act as a kind of army necessary for the protection of the empire, depending on their location. This being a very specific and ongoing purpose necessitates the creation of a clear structure. I elected to have companies, posted at each respective geographical point, though this may very well change when it comes to editing. I have commanders giving orders to the regular soldiers, but as of yet have not sought to create many more ranks.

What is certain, however, is that my antagonist will seek to change the balance of power. One of the ways he does this is not only by increasing the overall size of his army, but by restructuring it. As well as having his apprentices, he trains up other above-average magic wielders and puts them in groups of eight. The idea being that they fight together as a unit with a clear advantage over regular soldiers. The loss of one or more of their number, however, results in the entire group being thrown off balance. In terms of numbers, this would be similar to a squad. Fantasy is, of course, fantastical. but there is usually a grounding in some form of real life parallels. When it comes to structuring a fictional army, we can get as creative as we like, but we’re hardly reinventing the wheel.

One thing that should always be considered when creating an army is how they are maintained. An army marches on its stomach, and to keep them moving requires strong supply lines and sources of food. Naturally, if your soldiers are supernatural (such as an army of zombies) then these considerations go out the window. Such forces are usually sustained by the enemies they defeat. However, if your soldiers are regular flesh and blood, you need to treat them as such. Remember to have them eat, drink and stop for a rest. Few armies could march solidly for days on end and arrive ready for battle. They’ll also need to attend to other matters, such as digging latrines when they make camp. There are always no end of logistical considerations to take into account when such a large body of people gets together, and ultimately I’m still learning just what it all entails. The main point is, give a mention now and then to some of the things that keep your army going. They are not invulnerable, and the call of nature comes to them just as it does to all of us.

Squad, dismissed!

The Christmas Tree Approach

A seasonal metaphor for an approach to drafting your story.

I’ve just finished drafting chapter 31 of my current ‘work in progress’. Thirty one chapters! It’s certainly the biggest writing project I’ve ever taken on, and is proving to be quite a challenge. It represents a departure from the kind of storytelling I’ve stuck to in the past, and ultimately is part of a much larger story already mapped out. This is essentially proving to be quite a learning curve for me, and I’d like to share some thoughts on the drafting process, if you’ll indulge me.

In previous works I have adopted an approach to drafting that led to certain complications. I would sometimes strive to get it just the way I wanted it first time, looking to include as much ‘fanciful’ language as possible, which ultimately left entire paragraphs looking convoluted. For this current, very large work, I’m taking on a more bare-bones approach. Now, there is every likelihood that what I’m doing has a very distinct name that has escaped my notice. However, I’ve taken to calling it the ‘Christmas Tree Approach’ to drafting.

Now, for this metaphor to work, I’m afraid it has to be an imitation Christmas tree, not a real one. Sorry if you prefer the genuine article, but let’s keep in mind it’s a metaphorical tree. The reason it has to be an imitation tree is that such trees are usually able to be broken down into sections for storage, and in trees of average size, this means three sections. The larger base, the mid section, and the top.

Or, in writing terms: Beginning, Middle and End. Such is dramatic structure.

The most complex stories in the world can be broken down to these three key sections. When working on this new project, I mapped out the entire story in a very basic, hand written draft. Some of the details have evolved during the later writing process, but the fact remains that the overall structure remains in place. I know how my story begins, the central event in the middle, and how I wish it to end. The three key sections are in place, without which we would not have a story, or indeed a Christmas tree.

Now, with the various Christmas trees I’ve had over the years, once you’ve put it together, you need to go around taking hold of the imitation branches and begin manipulating them into position. Pulling this way and that way, bending up or down as necessary, pluming the tree until it begins to take a more pleasing shape. This, when writing, could be thought of as either the overall editing process, or the little bits of editing we sometimes do while writing.

I have striven to refrain from doing too much editing while still drafting the overall story, but it does happen. A key plot point, or indeed a hole, appears that needs your attention in order for the story to work. There is nothing wrong with this, but I have tried to limit the amount of times I go back over a chapter and start changing too much. Instead, I’ve been keeping notes about various plot points I may wish to address or indeed add once the overall draft is complete. This ultimately allows you to get a fuller picture of the story and where these edits fit in. This is why, ultimately, the pulling about of the branches can be thought of as the process of editing. Getting all the details in place to make sure the story takes shape the way you want it.

Once the basic dramatic structure of the story is in place, and you’ve edited it to make sure it all works, we come to the final stage of our metaphor. Decoration. Every home that celebrates Christmas will have their own way of decorating the tree, and I’m sure there is many an argument to be had over the correct way of doing it. However, for the purposes of this metaphor, you are the only one who gets a say over how you decorate your writing. You are in charge here.

Apart from a few moments of inspiration, in this current draft I have not been too worried if some of my dialogue or prose comes across a bit flat. What I have been focusing on, in the overall draft and the little bits of editing is the fundamental point of each chapter. What is it I want the character to say or do in this moment? What, on a basic level, is happening? This is ultimately part of making sure the story works in its entirety before you go about beautifying it. During the editing process, once you’ve filled in any plot holes you find, you can go back and look at what you’ve said and ask yourself one question: how can I say this better?

This is where you can allow yourself to have some fun and get truly creative. Play with how a character speaks and how they behave in order to craft that sense of individuality that is going to make your reader identify with them. Take that bit of dialogue and jazz it up a bit, so long as the underlying message remains. Find a better way of describing what is going on so that your reader is transported into the scenario without the event itself being lost in description.

Many writers struggle with the notion that their first draft has to be near-enough perfect. They will strive to make sure it all sounds wonderful from the get-go but risk sacrificing the story in the process. I know, I’ve done it myself. Like most of us, I’m learning as I go along. No approach to writing is going to work for everyone, but I’m certainly finding that this is currently working for me. I’ve experienced a sense of flow in my writing that I’ve not felt for a while, and it’s allowed me to persevere with a project larger than anything I’ve taken on before. I focus on the essence of the story first, then seek to beautify it later.

Essentially, one cannot decorate a Christmas tree without first putting it together and pulling all the branches here, there and everywhere. The fun comes in making it look pretty, but you have to do the boring bit first.

I hope this has at least made some sense to you all, and in some cases actually proved useful!

“That’s not a proper story …”

A blog on the importance of building confidence in young writers, not destroying it.

As I scrolled through Twitter this morning, a tweet caught my eye, which is what tweets are supposed to do. It was asking whether I could remember the first story I ever wrote. This got me thinking about something that I hadn’t thought of for many years, but now that I come to consider it, it explains a lot.

The fact is, I do remember the first story I ever wrote, and I remember the scathing criticism that came with it. My first ‘bad review’. Sadly, it came from my teacher, an issue that will form the bulk of this blog, but first, the incident itself.

I was in Year 1, so I must have been about six years old. Our teacher, whose name I have genuinely forgotten, asked us to write a short story. I decided to write a story about a pair of robots, one of whom was looking forward to Christmas, the other one didn’t like Christmas. I cannot remember the precise names I gave them, but they were something like RX-4B and TR-3P. When my teacher saw this, a look of pure disgust rippled across her face. “Those aren’t real names,” she said. I looked up at her and said “You’ve never seen Star Wars, have you?” Surprisingly, she and I never really got on very well.

Despite a strong sense of defiance radiating from my bad-ass six year old self, like everyone else I found that criticism can hurt. This isn’t me saying that children shouldn’t be criticised, but there are ways to go about it so that the criticism is constructive. I went on to train as a primary school teacher and despite deciding to go in a different direction job-wise later in life, I learned enough during teacher training to look back at my own schooling and recognise that I had some abysmal teachers at times.

Criticising a six year old’s names for robots just comes down to a lack of imagination in the teacher, which still isn’t an excuse for tearing down the work of others, let alone a child. I’ve never really let this hold me back when writing, but teachers in particular have a key role to play when it comes to developing children’s confidence, or destroying it.

My handwriting has never really been the neatest, even now. I can make it out, and if I’m writing something in a rush it can become illegible. While learning joined-up handwriting, I had a teacher who would literally gag if you presented her with a piece of work that wasn’t your neatest handwriting. I’m not kidding. I can clearly recall one incident, bringing my work up to show to this particular teacher, she took one look, blanched and said “Take it away.”

I would make mistakes quite frequently when writing, which meant ink blots and badly formed letters having to be crossed out. The fact that this teacher insisted on us striving to write neatly was not the problem, it was her visceral and over-the-top reaction to our mistakes. It got to the point where I was terrified to show her my work, because once you made one mistake, that was it. It was ruined. I would descend into tears in the classroom. To this day, when someone remarks about my handwriting, my insides tighten. I worked hard at improving my handwriting, but I struggle to recall receiving any genuine help from a teacher on this particular issue. I also, in all fairness, don’t recall any of my teachers in secondary school remarking one way or another on my handwriting, but this one teacher was all it took for me to develop a ‘thing’ about the neatness of my handwriting.

Again, I am not advocating only ever telling children what they want to hear. If a child’s handwriting needs improving, it’s the teacher’s duty to help them to do so. Refusing to even read their work because of their handwriting says one thing to me, namely “What you have to say doesn’t matter because I don’t like the way you’ve written it”. Reading the child’s work and discussing the content should come first, saying what you like about it and what could use improvement. If it’s the handwriting that needs improving, you explain why it’s necessary to be precise in how we write, namely so our words can be understood. You remind the child that this is still a relatively new skill they’re learning and that mistakes are going to happen. You allow the child time and give them the necessary support. Looking at their work and literally making a gagging noise is hardly good teaching practice, yet it’s how one of my teachers chose to conduct herself.

My own teacher training was an eye opener in so many ways, but even before I started my course, I learned about the rule of 2 to 1. Both my parents were secondary school teachers and they explained that this ratio was how to go about discussing a child’s work with them. For everything that needs some improvement, you sandwich it between two things you liked about their work. Constructive and confidence building. This is a principle I’ve always striven to employ when working with young people.

One thing I will say for the teacher who used to become quite ill at the sight of my handwriting, at least she did it in private. In my first year of teacher training, I was on a placement in a Year 6 class. Obviously, being a student teacher in my first year, I was mostly there to observe and support wherever I could. Not there to rock the boat.

The class I was assigned to had a supply teacher in one day. I’ve nothing against supply teachers, I’ve done it myself often enough, but there was something about this guy. The class was asked to write a story in fifty words. A great exercise in concise storytelling. One child wrote what I felt was a humorous, imaginative story in precisely fifty words. Exactly what had been asked of him, and he had the courage to read it out loud in front of the class. The supply teacher declared “That’s not a proper story, listen to what I’ve done.” He then went on to read out what he’d written about a man crossing a desert. Descriptive, yes, and under fifty words …but there was no story to it. It felt more like an extract than anything else. The class had been asked to write a story in fifty words, namely beginning, middle and end. This child had done so, but the supply teacher didn’t like it so he read out his own work to compare it.

To this day, I remember feeling utter indignation on this child’s behalf. He’d done precisely what had been asked of the class, written a funny and engaging fifty word story, and this teacher had the audacity to humiliate him in front of the whole class. Still, being a student, I was very good and said nothing to contradict the teacher openly. I did, however, make a point of speaking to the child later and telling him I enjoyed his story and that he was very brave for reading it out. I can only hope I undid some of the damage that could have been done.

Adults can have a devastating impact on children’s confidence if they’re not careful. Taking issue with my handwriting is one thing, but had I taken on board what my Year 1 teacher said about the names of my robots not being “proper”, I might have eventually decided that it was never going to be worth my time attempting anything creative. All writing is subjective, of course, but we should never dismiss a child’s efforts as “not being a proper story”. If you don’t quite follow a child’s reasoning behind writing something, ask them. Get them to talk you through the choices they made in their story. Teaching isn’t about giving answers all the time. It’s about asking the right questions that get children to realise their own potential for themselves.

It’s well known that a bad teacher can destroy a child’s interest in a subject. There are fantastic teachers out there who have inspired generations of children in so many ways. Confidence can take a lifetime to build, but in some cases it only takes a few knocks to leave a big dent.