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Focusing Your Story: In a book titled "The Art & Craft of the Short Story," by Rick DeMarinis, the author said something that may help you whenever a stubborn scene, story, or chapter doesn't seem to be doing what it ought to. He said, "Fiction is about trouble. Trouble is a direct consequence of desire. Characters are living embodiments of
desire. A character in need is the force that sets a story in motion." To this I'll add: a character in need is what a scene/chapter/story is about. It is the character's agenda that matters, that drives and shapes the
narrative, NOT the author's agenda for setting up the plot or to incorporate exposition or background. |
Flashbacks: In the work I see from writers new to novel writing, a common feature is flashbacks that stop the story dead. My advice: avoid flashbacks whenever possible. I don't say never—I've used three flashbacks, one in each of my three novels.
To avoid flashbacks that are story-stoppers, do these two things: 1. don't go to a flashback unless the information in it is ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY to understand what is going on or will soon happen in the immediate scene. Try, if
at all possible, to get the information in within the context of an earlier immediate scene. 2. if you must use a flashback, make damn sure it's a scene that grabs the reader with vivid tension and conflict. |
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Point of view: One of the most frequent "errors" I see in manuscripts by beginning novelists is in establishing and maintaining a singular point of view for a scene. While it is possible to write from
an "omniscient" point of view and show what any character is thinking at any time, it is a very difficult technique to master. A recent article by a professor who writes novels and teaches courses for a MFA in writing told of how
he is just now confident enough to try it. First person, the "I did this and I did that" point of view, is easy to understand and keep consistent. It is limiting, though, because you can only tell about what the character can
see, know, think, and do. Third person limited is the point of view most used in contemporary commercial fiction. It is like first person in that, while you're in a character's "head," you can only write about what he or she can
see, know, think or do. "Violations" can be subtle: a recent manuscript had the point of view character knocked unconscious, then the writer went to tell more of the action which the character could not know about. The
advantage of third person limited is that you can change to another character's point of view to get new information, action, etc. But don't give the reader mental whiplash by jumping from character to character paragraph by
paragraph. Stay within a character for a chapter if possible or, if you move through more than one character in a chapter (I use this technique frequently), separate the changes in point of view with an extra line space that
includes three centered asterisks to cue the reader. And give the reader some time in a character's head, don't just pop in for a paragraph or so (generally speaking; there are exceptions). |
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Following is a gross example of overwriting, a malady common to beginning novelists (my first was twice the length it ended up being after editing). Unfortunately, this example comes from a published novel, "The Experiment," by John Darnton. Following the sample, taken from the book, is my edit of the passage. While the writing in your sample had nothing like this, it's a reminder of something we all do, and that an editor can help you with. Here goes: "She thought that perhaps she should try to take a nap, too; the trip home had exhausted her. She walked around the bed, sat in a chair and unstrapped her shoes and took them off, placing
them to one side. She stood up and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap and bent down to pick it up and drape it over the back of the chair. She slipped her thumbs into the waist of her panties and slid them
down her legs, placing them over the dress. Then she unfastened her bra and placed it on top. From the bed, she heard his breathing shift as he moved to a different level of sleep. "She walked to the right side of the bed, lifted
the sheet and slipped underneath, pulling it up to her chin. The cotton felt cool to her skin. (and so on)" This novel was full of writing like this. I wrote the senior editor at Dutton, the publisher about it. I also sent along
the following edit: "Exhausted by the trip home, she thought she should try a nap, too. She undressed and slipped underneath the sheet, pulling it up to her chin, the cotton cool on her skin." How does such slop get published?
In this case, the author had had a bestseller, "Neanderthal," and the publisher clearly hoped to capitalize on its success. Luckily, I've seen no more from the author. Here are five simple tricks that can help give your prose energy, pace, and a good, crisp feel. 1. Use the Find feature on
your word processor and search for the word "that" (without the quotes, but type a space after the word or choose "Find whole words only). Eliminate every one you can (I could have said "every one that you can" but, you see, "that"
wasn't needed). You'll be surprised at how many can go, though I've found a few need to stick around. 2. Use Find again and search for "ing" (no quotes). You'll likely find it paired up with a form of the verb to be, usually
"was," as in "He was desperately trying to get her attention." These are passive forms, and the more active past tense will be livelier (although the "ing" form is good for what I think of as "process" action). The example sentence
would be better as "He tried desperately to get her attention." 3. Search for "was" (space after, or whole word selected). You may find constructions such as "He was tempted by the doughnut." Look for a way to turn the verb
around. For example, "The doughnut tempted him." is much more active by getting rid of the "was." Rid your prose of as many forms of the "to be" verb as you can by switching subject and object, etc. 4. Hunt down adverbs and kill
them off. Use verbs to do the job. In the example above, while "He tried desperately to get her attention." was an improvement, "He fought to get her attention." or "He struggled to get her attention." or "He strained to get her
attention." sound to me like better writing. 5. Go on an adjective hunt and take as many out as you can. For example, this phrase, " The old church is a small rectangular building." can become "The old church is small." Most
churches are buildings, and most are rectangular—the reader fills in that stuff. So zap your thats, whack you ings, eliminate your wases, and banish your adjectives and adverbs for lively writing.
I'm going to crib heavily from a book that I recommend heartily: "Stein on Writing," by Sol Stein. I was re-reading it the other day, and thought his thoughts on
flashbacks might be helpful. Here goes: Stein writes that, when asked how to handle flashbacks, Sinclair Lewis said, "Don't." But, as Stein says, sometimes you need them. When to use a flashback: when the reader MUST have the
information to understand what's going on in the "now." You have to be tough on yourself when deciding. Whatever it is, it must be essential. If you can take out and the reader will still get what's going on, you don't need it.
How to use a flashback: 1. make it an immediate scene (dialogue, action, tension, conflict), not narrative summary Stein suggests posting the following where you can see it while you write: "Fiction should seem to be happening
now." I agree, and that's what makes flashbacks so difficult. The trouble with flashbacks is that they break the reading experience. Readers are (or should be, if you're doing your job right) intent on what happens next.
Flashbacks not well done pull the reader out of the story. Here's a terrific suggestion from Stein on how to get around the flashback barrier: move flashback material into the foreground so you don't need a flashback.
His example: "You were a lousy kid, Tommy, a brat from the word go."
You learn about Tommy's childhood, what his father did to him, and how he hated his father. You can do it with thoughts, too. "Hey, kid, tell me what's the matter, " Al said. The matter, Tommy thought, was you didn't have my
father, I did. You didn't have him yanking the plate away as punishment. You didn't go to bed with pain in your gut. Hope this helps. I'm definitely going to try the "flashback into foreground" technique next time I need to
inject some backstory into my narrative.
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