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What do anaesthetists do? How does anaesthesia work? What are the risks? Anaesthesia is a mysterious and sometimes threatening process. We spoke to anaesthetist and author Aidan O’Donnell, who addresses some of the common myths and thoughts surrounding anaesthesia.

On the science of anaesthesia:

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The pros and cons of pain relief in childbirth:

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Are anaesthetists heroes?

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Aidan O’Donnell is a consultant anaesthetist and medical writer with a special interest in anaesthesia for childbirth. He graduated from Edinburgh in 1996 and trained in Scotland and New Zealand. He now lives and works in New Zealand. He was admitted as a Fellow of the Royal College of Anaesthetists in 2002 and a Fellow of the Australian and New Zealand College of Anaesthetists in 2011. Anaesthesia: A Very Short Introduction is his first book. You can also read his blog post Propofol and the Death of Michael Jackson.

The Very Short Introductions (VSI) series combines a small format with authoritative analysis and big ideas for hundreds of topic areas. Written by our expert authors, these books can change the way you think about the things that interest you and are the perfect introduction to subjects you previously knew nothing about. Grow your knowledge with OUPblog and the VSI series every Friday!

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The key to writing a chapter for good novel is not to think of it as part of a book at all, but rather a short story meant to stand upon its own merits. If it cannot stand up by itself then it will not support the book and the reader will be inclined to put the entire work down. View the chapter as you would a scene in a play. It extends from moment the curtain rises until it descends. If you don’t want the reader toss your book away, then I would like to give you some tips that will aid you in the future as an aspiring author. I will also be pointing you to examples elsewhere on Author’s Den.

A chapter needs a protagonist and an antagonist, as does any story. These may or may not be the protagonist and antagonist of the entire work, but there must be a conflict of some sort to keep the reader emotionally invested and interested. It may be a battle, a love scene, a betrayed trust, or even the final showdown. Any way you cut it, a chapter must contain the elements of a story, for it must have structure: a beginning, middle, and an end.

The protagonist of the chapter does not need to be a good guy, though if the story is about good versus evil, you may find it beneficial to write at least one chapter of the book with the good guy in mind. He may very well be a despicable, self-centered lout who sees things through his warped sense of morality. He could be an evil wizard, a rising politician, or drug dealer. What makes him the protagonist is his ownership of the arc of the story, whether the outcome is to his benefit or not. The antagonist doesn’t own the arc, but instead stands in opposition to the protagonist. You ask yourself, does this apply to various genres beside the obvious, like fantasy and science fiction? For mystery, it is the unseen and the hidden that plays the role of the antagonist, but it must be palpable and real to the reader. For suspense, it may be a mixture of the unseen mystery and a real individual or group who stands in opposition. For romance you may wonder, how can there be either, since it is the pairing or division of two or more love interests. Ah, there lies the greatest conflict of all -- and you have the protagonist and antagonist all present. Would it be anything more than pornography if the characters in the scene found it easy to come together? Maybe there is a husband or cuckolded king in the scene. Romeo and Juliet are fine examples of romance gone wrong and demonstrate the offstage antagonists as feuding families.

Another point I should make is that you needn’t stay within your genre for the chapter. A mystery can have chapter which is a romance, as long as your readers have come to expect this sort of thing from you. A science fiction can jump into fantasy, something which certain authors like Terry Goodkind have done very well. There are genres that are not compatible, but I will leave that as an exercise of common sense and decency to the writer. Remember that you warn the reader with foreshadowing that you may switch genres or they may not only put the book down but run shrieking out of the room. If you were writing a romance book, and introduced raw direct horror, for instance, your average romance reader may be just a little put off. Your agent may suggest reclassifying you novel when they start getting complaints in the mail.

The conflict is easier to imagine. We have conflicts every day of our lives. Change the stage and you can take any mundane conflict and turn it into an epic battle. How many times have you known a coworker who has taken credit for your work and you are helpless to oppose them? Transfer that motivation to the apprentice of the king’s magician and you have what could be the source of some fine conflict. A switched up potion or a faulty spell, and “shazam!” you have action!

As for structure, the beginning sets the stage for the drama to follow and prepares the reader for the yarn you are about to spin. It describes the players, builds the scene, and identifies the conflict. The middle is where the bulk of the action occurs. It contains the rising arc of the characters in the story and builds the tension to a crescendo. It may be as small as a single paragraph or as large as needed to grow the arc. It must take the protagonist somewhere physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually, that they weren’t before. It must also prepare them for the end of the scene. The end often is the hardest of all to write, but I have a little trick you might want to remember. Treat the ending like a link in a chain that connects one chapter to the next. It helps on occasion to skip the end of a chapter and write the next chapter’s beginning first and then come back and write the ending of the previous chapter. In some cases, you might want to write the beginning and ends of all of the chapters as a story in its own right, leaving out the fat and juicy middles. This is a very good practice, since it essentially yields the synopsis you will present to an agent and makes a fine instrument to construct a book.

Overall, keep in mind the arc of the book and motivations of your characters, large and small, important or insignificant, at the chapter level and in your book as whole, must agree in the end. If you neglect the motivations of these characters as they transform on their journey, the reader will neglect your book as well.

Greetings, OUPblog readers! It’s been about six months since I had my “Last Word” around these parts, and it’s good to be back, reporting in from my new vantage point as executive producer of the Visual Thesaurus. When I was writing the column “From A to Zimmer” here, I often talked about how the OUP dictionary program uses the latest computational tools to shed new light on the inner workings of the English language. The development of the Oxford English Corpus has been particularly useful in tracking English usage, illuminating everything from spelling errors to shifting idioms to innovative combining forms like -licious. In my new job, I still get the chance to fuse lexicography with state-of-the-art technology. One fun example of this fusion is a new online spelling bee that adapts to players’ skill levels. It tells us a lot about how people grapple with the confusing rules of English spelling.

American schoolchildren have been competing in spelling bees for about two centuries now, originally sparked by the spelling textbooks of Noah Webster, whose 250th birthday was celebrated by American lexiphiles two weeks ago. Since Webster’s time, the spelling bee has become a distinctly American tradition, with its lasting appeal showcased in movies like Akeelah and the Bee and Spellbound, and the widely watched national broadcast of the Scripps National Spelling Bee on ABC and ESPN. Even Great Britain is belatedly joining in the fun, with the (UK) Times currently sponsoring the first-ever national Spelling Bee.

When we launched the Visual Thesaurus Spelling Bee this past summer, we knew there was a built-in interest, but the response was still surprising. So far there have been 15,000 players who have tried their hand at spelling a grand total of 500,000 words. It’s clearly habit-forming, with many repeat visitors. The reason why it’s so addictive is that it’s been designed to be adaptive, so the more words that are spelled correctly, the more difficult the words become. And conversely, if you’re not a great speller, the words will get easier and easier. That way a player will always be quizzed at the appropriate skill level — from the orthographically challenged to the most expert spellers.

As more and more players try the Bee, the game has steadily improved based on data collected on how words are spelled. Words are being continuously reanalyzed for difficulty based on how spellers fare. Every five minutes, words are rescored for difficulty taking into account the latest data from the Bee spellers. That means there’s an increasingly better fit to different skill levels. As the player continues to spell, the quiz narrows in on his or her score, on a scale from 200 to 800. A 200-level speller will get quizzed on the easiest words, but 800-level spellers are in for a fiendish challenge — matching their wits against such oddities as puerperal (relating to childbirth), faineant (disinclined to work or exertion), and palilalia (a pathological condition in which a word is rapidly and involuntarily repeated — something you might get from trying to spell too many words!).

There’s some sophisticated data analysis going on behind the scenes to score both players and words. Using intricate algorithms and curve-fitting models, the Bee is able to determine not just how difficult a word is to spell, but how well a word is at discriminating good spellers from bad spellers. That way the Bee can quickly zero in on a player’s skill level, in much the same way that computer-adaptive tests like the GRE and GMAT tailor themselves to test-takers’ abilities.

For each word, a graph is generated to plot the distribution of right and wrong answers across different skill levels. Then a curve is drawn to fit the data. If that curve rises very steeply, then the word is a good “discriminator”: it’s an accurate way to separate the good spellers from the bad spellers. Take two relatively easy words: harried and horrendous. Both of them are about the same difficulty level: 350 on the scale of 200 to 800. Here are their graphs, with player’s skill levels on the x-axis and the frequency of correct answers on the y-axis:

harried

horrendous

As the graphs illustrate, the curve for horrendous rises much more steeply than the one for harried. So if you spell horrendous incorrectly, it’s a very good bet that your skill level is below 350. And if you spell it right, then you probably can handle words at a level above 350. Each time a player spells a word right or wrong in the Bee, that gets added to the growing pool of data about each word’s difficulty and ability to discriminate good spellers from bad spellers.

We’ve come a long way from Noah Webster’s “Blue-Backed Speller,” but the impulse to test one’s spelling prowess is still running strong — both in the American spelling-bee tradition and now, increasingly, among the international audience of Anglophones. Everybody loves a challenge, even if they accidentally learn something in the process! And as the creators of the challenge, we’re constantly learning too, finding the patterns of how people succeed and fail when confronting the odd and outrageous rules of English spelling.

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