As mentioned in the previous post, there is a trap in thinking that a "good" story is a "unique" story, and that only "unique" stories do well.
In that line of thinking, the critical flaw is that you're discussing the story as though it's done, (when generally this thought is had by people still writing) and that you're confusing the line between conceptual or thematic reception with publication reception.
Yeah I just used a lot of big words. I'll boil that down -- The problem is that you're worried about how the book will sell while you're still writing it, and you're attempting to reverse engineer the process so that by the time you're done writing, publication is a breeze.
I think we should first define our terms.
"Good story" -- A story you enjoy.
"Unique story" -- A story containing elements you've never seen before, or never seen done in a certain way before
"Publishable story" -- A story that can be mass produced and sold to consumers
This comes down to a matter of perspective. If we're looking at a story by its elements, and we examine the dialogue, the characters, the plot and the pacing (to name a few)...then we can easily see if the story is unique in its presentation. Uniqueness is the most objective quality here, and it's very binary - either we have seen this story done this way before or not.
The next quality is subjective, and we appeal to our senses and tastes to see if we like the story. If we term it "good" then we associate with other good things and we smile when thinking about it. This, too, is a binary decision, but has more factors influencing it.
Lastly we blend the subjective and objective together to determine it's state of readiness for publication. The objective factors are it's completion, the level of spelling and grammar and the formatting. The subjective factors fall to editors, publishers and agents who make decisions regarding how to broadcast the story. This blend does not matter if the story is "good", and only slightly matters if the story is "unique".
We can dispense with the notion that the story is good (meaning we like it) because we can easily find published books we do not like (hello sparkly vampires, female detectives trying to be masculine, and long-winded period pieces that opine and whine before something happens). A book can be published regardless of whether or not I enjoy it. I may not purchase it, but it can be available for audiences to purchase.
Being "unique" is a selling point for publication, not a prerequisite. Many books share the same theme, plot or style of characters (how many series now make use of teenagers and magic?), but it is the specific twists applied to the stories that allow them to be distinguished from one another. Story #1 may use Norse gods, Story #2 may use psionics in algebra, Story #3 may use a boarding school of supernatural creatures...but the fantasy elements are a common thread.
When writing the story, the author needs to do everything possible to focus on the act of writing and completion of the piece. If particular parts of the story are unique, then that is a bonus for later steps in the writing/publication process, but if there are no distinctly unique elements, THE STORY CAN/SHOULD STILL BE WRITTEN. You need not shoehorn in elements to "make" the story unique. You cannot quickly tack in a magical fairy into your story about divorcing parents any easier than you can heighten the drama of a mythical hero slaying monsters by taking a chapter to describe how he pays his taxes.
As I tell many writers, "Your story is inherently unique because you wrote it." Any editor, publisher or agent who cannot work with that fact as a selling point is not an agent/editor/publisher you need to use. Find others, as so many exist. It may not be an easy find, you may have to hunt around, compare data and do some legwork, but you can find people or services to get your work published.
The last of the three terms mentioned is, for many people, the scariest, if only because they do not fully grasp the meaning, or they're unclear about it: A "publishable" story is one that will sell.
That's it. If you add any weight or thought to any part of that definition, you are projecting your fears, anxieties or expectations onto the process.
Any story can be sold and produced into a book. What it takes to make that story ready for that is different for every story and every author. Some authors need to work a page at a time with an editor and see how their sentences need to be improved. Some authors need to be locked in a room for a month and left alone to write. No matter the rigors taken, no matter the length of time spent, any story can be developed, polished and completed so that it ends up on a bookshelf.
What matters is your commitment to that time and those rigors. What matters is the foundation of habits you build for yourself so that you can produce the work. What matters is the help you receive along the way to make this process easier (note: not faster).
There are people like me who offer both paying and free services to writers to help them. My rates are reasonable, my free services are available. If you want to take your ideas and get them out onto bookshelves, come talk to me. I'm always around.
You can do this - it starts with commitment, which is the topic of my next post.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Post #6 - Your First Fork In The Road
If I had to define writing, but couldn't use technical terms, I would define writing as the use of choices to develop some problem(s) and the solution(s).
Choices abound in writing. And the reason choices exist is not because the author is indecisive, overwhelmed or under-prepared, but because they have control over EVERYTHING in their piece.
They control weather.
They control what a person looks like.
They control the forces of physics.
If it can exist in the story, the author has control over it. Also, the things not in the story they can also control by choosing to exclude them, but that's another discussion....
There can be an infinite number of decisions made in the course of story, no matter how long or short. Many decisions are contingent on other decisions, but the author retains a lot of variables should they need them.
Example: If you're writing a story set in 1920, there will not be DVDs or the Internet, unless you want to alter the technological and historical basis for your story.
Note the shift in color. The blue part of the sentence assumes a relative-Earth environment, following a timeline that parallels the author's existence. The red portion is the choice available to the author, as a demonstration of control. If the author wants to tweak things, they can.
Story generation, before words even fall onto pages, is a mental process. Thoughts come together first, and words follow. For me, those thoughts fall into two camps: Plot and Character.
Plot
A plot-based story establishes the conflict or problem-needing resolution as being greater than the characters. In Lord of The Rings, we open up with a historical perspective on ring creation and Sauron, and how the ring must be destroyed. This puts the problem to the front of the readers' minds and lets everything (characters, subplots, etc) be filtered through the question of "How are they going to solve the problem?"
A plot-driven story shifts the focus away from characters to do this. I do not mean that characters get no development, or that exposition outside of plot is missing, I mean that the bulk of focus is on the problem. There is a combination of elements at work here -- the problem is not just detailed to the Nth-degree but there exist implications and ramifications for the problem at multiple levels.
Example: Our story focuses on our car breaking down on the way to a job interview. From that summation we can see two potential focuses: The importance of the job interview (making the car a subplot) or the opposite - making the car more important (and the interview the subplot). Whichever I pick, I would not belabor the page with tons of description about the texture of the car components, nor would I detail the qualities of the shirt I'm wearing to the interview. To bloat the page with detail is NOT establishing plot. Instead, I narrate and craft the exposition to evoke the feelings of tension, anxiety and urgency.
Remember: Adding detail to the problem does not make the problem more "anything" other than detailed. It does not make it more urgent, more clear or more powerful. Only when you raise the stakes, heighten the emotional content and show the characters working towards a solution do you demonstrate that this problem is worth concern.
Character
Character-driven (or character-based) story succeeds or fail based on the strength of the connection the audience has with the character(s). Plot is not necessarily missing here (as we need a plot to tie all these characters together) but the filter and lens for the reader becomes "How will this character grow/mature over the course of this work, as they go through all these problems?"
In HBO's new series Treme, the emphasis is the characters. The characters are encountered in scene after scene where the action is mundane but the emotional impact, the weight, is felt in every part of any scene. It does not matter if the character is sweeping a floor, dancing down the street or at a barbecue, the audience is led to sympathize and connect with the characters no matter what they're specifically doing. This connection is not built through big action scenes (no a whole lot of swordfights, car chases and explosions in post-Katrina New Orleans) but rather through the motions, expressive body language and dialogue of the characters. Granted, television is a visual medium, so there is a need for things to seen. In written work that expression is handled in narration and exposition, and that is where audiences connect.
Again, it is not a matter of quantity of detail. The story does not advance very far if I know our hero has blue eyes. The story advances further when I know what those blue eyes are doing. Have they teared up over the death of their father? Have they hardened as revenge is sworn?
Remember: When you're writing character-driven stories, the emphasis is on what they do and how they do it. (If you find yourself focusing on "why" they do it, you're looking at plot). Plot doesn't oppose character, it is a matter of focus.
No matter the path you take, whether you focus on characters or on plot, you must understand that both have to exist for your story to be functional. If you have pages of character detail and history, but you don't have them doing something for a reason we can deduce, you don't have a story, you have a character sketch. If you have pages and pages establishing a crisis, complete with history and consequences, you don't have a story, you have a prologue to a story.
A character sketch needs something to do, some problem whereupon it may be applied. A prologue needs characters to advance the story both chronologically and thematically.
Don't confuse "good story" with "unique story"....but that's for my next post.
Choices abound in writing. And the reason choices exist is not because the author is indecisive, overwhelmed or under-prepared, but because they have control over EVERYTHING in their piece.
They control weather.
They control what a person looks like.
They control the forces of physics.
If it can exist in the story, the author has control over it. Also, the things not in the story they can also control by choosing to exclude them, but that's another discussion....
There can be an infinite number of decisions made in the course of story, no matter how long or short. Many decisions are contingent on other decisions, but the author retains a lot of variables should they need them.
Example: If you're writing a story set in 1920, there will not be DVDs or the Internet, unless you want to alter the technological and historical basis for your story.
Note the shift in color. The blue part of the sentence assumes a relative-Earth environment, following a timeline that parallels the author's existence. The red portion is the choice available to the author, as a demonstration of control. If the author wants to tweak things, they can.
Story generation, before words even fall onto pages, is a mental process. Thoughts come together first, and words follow. For me, those thoughts fall into two camps: Plot and Character.
Plot
A plot-based story establishes the conflict or problem-needing resolution as being greater than the characters. In Lord of The Rings, we open up with a historical perspective on ring creation and Sauron, and how the ring must be destroyed. This puts the problem to the front of the readers' minds and lets everything (characters, subplots, etc) be filtered through the question of "How are they going to solve the problem?"
A plot-driven story shifts the focus away from characters to do this. I do not mean that characters get no development, or that exposition outside of plot is missing, I mean that the bulk of focus is on the problem. There is a combination of elements at work here -- the problem is not just detailed to the Nth-degree but there exist implications and ramifications for the problem at multiple levels.
Example: Our story focuses on our car breaking down on the way to a job interview. From that summation we can see two potential focuses: The importance of the job interview (making the car a subplot) or the opposite - making the car more important (and the interview the subplot). Whichever I pick, I would not belabor the page with tons of description about the texture of the car components, nor would I detail the qualities of the shirt I'm wearing to the interview. To bloat the page with detail is NOT establishing plot. Instead, I narrate and craft the exposition to evoke the feelings of tension, anxiety and urgency.
Remember: Adding detail to the problem does not make the problem more "anything" other than detailed. It does not make it more urgent, more clear or more powerful. Only when you raise the stakes, heighten the emotional content and show the characters working towards a solution do you demonstrate that this problem is worth concern.
Character
Character-driven (or character-based) story succeeds or fail based on the strength of the connection the audience has with the character(s). Plot is not necessarily missing here (as we need a plot to tie all these characters together) but the filter and lens for the reader becomes "How will this character grow/mature over the course of this work, as they go through all these problems?"
In HBO's new series Treme, the emphasis is the characters. The characters are encountered in scene after scene where the action is mundane but the emotional impact, the weight, is felt in every part of any scene. It does not matter if the character is sweeping a floor, dancing down the street or at a barbecue, the audience is led to sympathize and connect with the characters no matter what they're specifically doing. This connection is not built through big action scenes (no a whole lot of swordfights, car chases and explosions in post-Katrina New Orleans) but rather through the motions, expressive body language and dialogue of the characters. Granted, television is a visual medium, so there is a need for things to seen. In written work that expression is handled in narration and exposition, and that is where audiences connect.
Again, it is not a matter of quantity of detail. The story does not advance very far if I know our hero has blue eyes. The story advances further when I know what those blue eyes are doing. Have they teared up over the death of their father? Have they hardened as revenge is sworn?
Remember: When you're writing character-driven stories, the emphasis is on what they do and how they do it. (If you find yourself focusing on "why" they do it, you're looking at plot). Plot doesn't oppose character, it is a matter of focus.
No matter the path you take, whether you focus on characters or on plot, you must understand that both have to exist for your story to be functional. If you have pages of character detail and history, but you don't have them doing something for a reason we can deduce, you don't have a story, you have a character sketch. If you have pages and pages establishing a crisis, complete with history and consequences, you don't have a story, you have a prologue to a story.
A character sketch needs something to do, some problem whereupon it may be applied. A prologue needs characters to advance the story both chronologically and thematically.
Don't confuse "good story" with "unique story"....but that's for my next post.
Post #5 - Catharsis
A lot of writers (myself included) use the term "catharsis to regularly describe the process of writing or the nature of the pieces they write. I have often said that writing is my alternative to expensive therapists and medications.
There is nothing wrong with using the craft of writing to help sort out feelings and establish better mental organization. Quite a few therapeutic techniques include writing a letter to express feelings, and there is a level of release granted by putting all your thoughts down on paper. These are good things that I encourage.
What I do not encourage is that this process be half-assed because you haven't quite sorted out all your feelings and ideas. People experience trauma (death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, a transition in the life) and they often get a grasp on the situation, enough to passably survive, but they do not go the necessary later steps to really sort things out and shore up their mind about the problem BEFORE they start writing.
Writing about the problem is a tool to help you find your answers. This sort of writing is deeply emotional and personal, and I would advise against turning the problem you haven't finished handling into blockbuster fiction.
Here's why.
There is a difference between writing ABOUT the problem, and writing THROUGH the problem.
Writing about the problem brings the unsorted, messy, sometimes painful feelings to the surface, allowing you to persist and exist in their chaos. You then add to these feelings all the memories that you may be surprised you stored away in your head (sensory memories, portions of conversations etc) and you get the "fun" of reliving that ache and pain and confusion.....for what purpose?
Being able to detail the trauma, essentially reliving it but now with the gift of adjectives and clauses, does NOT demonstrate that you've accepted the reality of the trauma and have moved past it.
Writing through the problem cares less about the details and more about asking yourself the progressive questions that suss out the nature of your feelings, consequences and allows you to develop any sort of plan (preferably a rational one) so that you can move forward in your life. Key here is the difference that you are not digging up the wound and not picking at the scabs.
Now this will often make someone say, "But my problems are the fuel for my writing! I'm writing about my life and what's happened in it!" To which I retort:
"What will you do when you've solved your problems? What's the next fuel?"
The issue is this -- you can keep using your problems to drive your writing, to tap into those emotional springs, and not resolve them....or you can solve your problems, get past them, stop bringing them up into your life and move forward, looking where you can take your writing with the problems behind you.
Your choice.
There is nothing wrong with using the craft of writing to help sort out feelings and establish better mental organization. Quite a few therapeutic techniques include writing a letter to express feelings, and there is a level of release granted by putting all your thoughts down on paper. These are good things that I encourage.
What I do not encourage is that this process be half-assed because you haven't quite sorted out all your feelings and ideas. People experience trauma (death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, a transition in the life) and they often get a grasp on the situation, enough to passably survive, but they do not go the necessary later steps to really sort things out and shore up their mind about the problem BEFORE they start writing.
Writing about the problem is a tool to help you find your answers. This sort of writing is deeply emotional and personal, and I would advise against turning the problem you haven't finished handling into blockbuster fiction.
Here's why.
There is a difference between writing ABOUT the problem, and writing THROUGH the problem.
Writing about the problem brings the unsorted, messy, sometimes painful feelings to the surface, allowing you to persist and exist in their chaos. You then add to these feelings all the memories that you may be surprised you stored away in your head (sensory memories, portions of conversations etc) and you get the "fun" of reliving that ache and pain and confusion.....for what purpose?
Being able to detail the trauma, essentially reliving it but now with the gift of adjectives and clauses, does NOT demonstrate that you've accepted the reality of the trauma and have moved past it.
Writing through the problem cares less about the details and more about asking yourself the progressive questions that suss out the nature of your feelings, consequences and allows you to develop any sort of plan (preferably a rational one) so that you can move forward in your life. Key here is the difference that you are not digging up the wound and not picking at the scabs.
Now this will often make someone say, "But my problems are the fuel for my writing! I'm writing about my life and what's happened in it!" To which I retort:
"What will you do when you've solved your problems? What's the next fuel?"
The issue is this -- you can keep using your problems to drive your writing, to tap into those emotional springs, and not resolve them....or you can solve your problems, get past them, stop bringing them up into your life and move forward, looking where you can take your writing with the problems behind you.
Your choice.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Post #4 - A note about Critique and Feedback
I am sort of oblivious at times, particularly when it comes to my attitudes. I don't often realize how I'm coming across or how the other person reacts. I don't filter a lot of what I say, nor gauge it for best response, as I consider that to be a disservice to people - no one gains anything when you walk on eggshells.
I don't deny that I'm a skilled writer, and that I know a lot about the technical aspects as well as stylistic aspects of the craft. While this occasionally leads me to feeling a certain level of superiority, I believe it earned -- I've been doing this awhile, and I'm good at it -- what I disagree with is that there is therefore created a sense that other people are inferior.
This is not a contest. There is no prize for being the best. (You cannot even argue that a Pulitzer makes you the best, because there are many awards available.) Just because I am good at this, and perhaps better at this than you are, in no way does that translate to you being stupid or a bad person.
Yes, there are writers and coaches WAY WAY WAY better than anything I could ever hope to be. People who teach different methodologies, different material and in different ways all exist. This variety of writing professionals is also not a contest -- John Grisham and I don't fight each other for a trophy. Different schools of thought exist, and I have mine, they have theirs.
There is a bit of a reputation that I call things "crap", and fuel some great "god" complex because all my writers (in my group) allegedly spend all their time agreeing with me. This is most often said by people who have not been a part of the group or by people who received comments they did not agree with.
My group does not spend all it's time agreeing with me. I can point to many pieces that include such comments as "WTF?" and "This isn't like you, are you okay?" We are all serious-minded about our comments. If something is not working, we say so.
Jumping to the extreme point of view that we only say bad things is wholly erroneous, because we're also very good at saying what's right.
The problem seems to come when people have this idea that in order to say what's bad, you MUST say what's good. This softens the bad, and creates a hand-holding experience which is not actually constructive. Perserving the "feelings" of a writer (who said writers have to be tissue-paper thin-skinned?) over improving the writer is not what my group is about. If you write something and it isn't good (meaning it lacks proficience thematically or technically or possesses structural errors and/or is wholly unclear, lacking in point or evocative attraction to the reader), we say so.
If you come to group and what you write is clear and concise, but all you've missed is a semi-colon (meaning there's way more good than bad), we say so.
Whatever is good or bad about the piece is said. Absent from this is a sense of personal condemnation -- I do not berate you as a person because you shifted tenses in the ninth paragraph. Also absent from this are weak, unconstructive criticism -- none of us say "It's good" and then move on. We say it's good, and then develop specific things that we found good. I may like the dialogue and Andrew may enjoy the description of the room.
My only request for people giving critique and feedback is that none of it be extreme. Avoid the "It's good" or the wholesale "Never write again, burn your keyboard." I leave it up to the individual to determine what specifically they say aside from that.
I find it both naive and foolish to think that there be some sort of extra merit or condition given to feedback, as if you have to balance bad things with good. Sometimes, things are good without bad bits and vice-versa. What matters is whether or not the writer improves because of what you said.
Note: WHAT you said, not HOW you said it.
I have neither the time nor inclination to mince words and find the best way to tell you something. Time is a precious commodity in a group of 12+ that takes almost 3 hours a night, so there is little reason to find the "best" way to tell you something.
You know what the "best" way is: Pure truth, backed up logically and cogently.
So if you bring me pages of drivel, where your plot is non-existant and your characters dry, I will say so. One of the others may say its the best thing ever. Which one of is right? We both are.
Even though this is not a matter of right and wrong (although people will try and make it such for the sake of their understanding), we're both right because we both spoke the truth.
Let the sum of the feedback GUIDE (not dictate) revisions. Do not just tally the "6 for, 7 against" but examine the whole scope of all the feedback to see if multiple people came across the same elements. And even then, it's still up to you as to whether or not you do anything about it. There are many people who write, and then come to group, and then the next month they write something else. No effort is made for publication, no concern is given to personal response on feedback. If I tell Mary that she shifted tenses on page 2, and she's been doing it for the last two months, I'll let her know that it's a habit, and here's how to break it.
My suggestion on how she break that habit is just that: A SUGGESTION. She can choose not to listen, she can choose to pay attention. I'm going to give my feedback either way.
I feel as though I rambled, so here's a summary:
1. My group is not my cult of personality.
2. When giving feedback, we speak our truth, unvarnished and clearly.
3. Feedback is at best a list of suggestions, not mandates.
4. If you need your negative feedback packaged with good feedback, I suggest you reconsider why you need packaging like that
5. Feedback about what you write IS NOT feedback about you as a person.
If I'm a jerk, then call me a jerk, but I might be a jerk who can help you write a story that turns into a book that goes on shelves.
I don't deny that I'm a skilled writer, and that I know a lot about the technical aspects as well as stylistic aspects of the craft. While this occasionally leads me to feeling a certain level of superiority, I believe it earned -- I've been doing this awhile, and I'm good at it -- what I disagree with is that there is therefore created a sense that other people are inferior.
This is not a contest. There is no prize for being the best. (You cannot even argue that a Pulitzer makes you the best, because there are many awards available.) Just because I am good at this, and perhaps better at this than you are, in no way does that translate to you being stupid or a bad person.
Yes, there are writers and coaches WAY WAY WAY better than anything I could ever hope to be. People who teach different methodologies, different material and in different ways all exist. This variety of writing professionals is also not a contest -- John Grisham and I don't fight each other for a trophy. Different schools of thought exist, and I have mine, they have theirs.
There is a bit of a reputation that I call things "crap", and fuel some great "god" complex because all my writers (in my group) allegedly spend all their time agreeing with me. This is most often said by people who have not been a part of the group or by people who received comments they did not agree with.
My group does not spend all it's time agreeing with me. I can point to many pieces that include such comments as "WTF?" and "This isn't like you, are you okay?" We are all serious-minded about our comments. If something is not working, we say so.
Jumping to the extreme point of view that we only say bad things is wholly erroneous, because we're also very good at saying what's right.
The problem seems to come when people have this idea that in order to say what's bad, you MUST say what's good. This softens the bad, and creates a hand-holding experience which is not actually constructive. Perserving the "feelings" of a writer (who said writers have to be tissue-paper thin-skinned?) over improving the writer is not what my group is about. If you write something and it isn't good (meaning it lacks proficience thematically or technically or possesses structural errors and/or is wholly unclear, lacking in point or evocative attraction to the reader), we say so.
If you come to group and what you write is clear and concise, but all you've missed is a semi-colon (meaning there's way more good than bad), we say so.
Whatever is good or bad about the piece is said. Absent from this is a sense of personal condemnation -- I do not berate you as a person because you shifted tenses in the ninth paragraph. Also absent from this are weak, unconstructive criticism -- none of us say "It's good" and then move on. We say it's good, and then develop specific things that we found good. I may like the dialogue and Andrew may enjoy the description of the room.
My only request for people giving critique and feedback is that none of it be extreme. Avoid the "It's good" or the wholesale "Never write again, burn your keyboard." I leave it up to the individual to determine what specifically they say aside from that.
I find it both naive and foolish to think that there be some sort of extra merit or condition given to feedback, as if you have to balance bad things with good. Sometimes, things are good without bad bits and vice-versa. What matters is whether or not the writer improves because of what you said.
Note: WHAT you said, not HOW you said it.
I have neither the time nor inclination to mince words and find the best way to tell you something. Time is a precious commodity in a group of 12+ that takes almost 3 hours a night, so there is little reason to find the "best" way to tell you something.
You know what the "best" way is: Pure truth, backed up logically and cogently.
So if you bring me pages of drivel, where your plot is non-existant and your characters dry, I will say so. One of the others may say its the best thing ever. Which one of is right? We both are.
Even though this is not a matter of right and wrong (although people will try and make it such for the sake of their understanding), we're both right because we both spoke the truth.
Let the sum of the feedback GUIDE (not dictate) revisions. Do not just tally the "6 for, 7 against" but examine the whole scope of all the feedback to see if multiple people came across the same elements. And even then, it's still up to you as to whether or not you do anything about it. There are many people who write, and then come to group, and then the next month they write something else. No effort is made for publication, no concern is given to personal response on feedback. If I tell Mary that she shifted tenses on page 2, and she's been doing it for the last two months, I'll let her know that it's a habit, and here's how to break it.
My suggestion on how she break that habit is just that: A SUGGESTION. She can choose not to listen, she can choose to pay attention. I'm going to give my feedback either way.
I feel as though I rambled, so here's a summary:
1. My group is not my cult of personality.
2. When giving feedback, we speak our truth, unvarnished and clearly.
3. Feedback is at best a list of suggestions, not mandates.
4. If you need your negative feedback packaged with good feedback, I suggest you reconsider why you need packaging like that
5. Feedback about what you write IS NOT feedback about you as a person.
If I'm a jerk, then call me a jerk, but I might be a jerk who can help you write a story that turns into a book that goes on shelves.
Post #3 - Show Don't Tell & Show-And-Tell
There is a great writing expression that should be etched in stone and taught at a very early age to people in English classes:
Show, Don't Tell
Having read and worked with a lot of people, I think they've either never gotten this lesson, or they're confused as to its meaning.
So let's go through it.
At the most simplistic, it instructs writers to demonstrate a feeling, an action or a concept, rather than just stating the feeling/action/concept.
Example: Janine was nervous.
This "tells" us what state Janine exists in. She is nervous. Depending on the subsequent sentences, the audience may apply their own understanding of "nervous" to develop the scene.
Example: Janine felt clammy and her stomach churned a little as she moved through the dark house.
This sentence "shows" us what Janine did and allows us to infer from the description what state she was in.
Example: Janine was nervous. Her skin was clammy and her stomach was nauseous.
These two sentences are redundant. The first sentence tells us Janine's state, and the second clarifies it. Specifically, the second sentence directs us to specifically create the condition that "nervous = clammy skin + nausea". The problem with crafting the equation is that until we hear otherwise, all mentions of "nervous" can be defined that way, even if other characters don't express nervousness in that same manner.
There are generally three issues sitting at the heart of the "show/tell" debate:
1. The author does not trust the audience in their ability to see/get/understand the story the way it is intended. - the author thinks the audience is stupid.
2. The author does not want to relinquish control of the story, not even for the purpose of cooperative enjoyment. - the author thinks they should be totally in control, all the time.
3. The author writes poorly, crafting dull sentences that either lack development or suffocate under the weight of their construction. - the author abuses sentences.
Do other issues exist here? Yes, and we'll address them in later posts.
Let's go through these three.
1. The audience is not stupid. If you (the writer) build a clear world, with compelling characters, evocative and reasonable plot, supported by dialogue and dynamic exposition then the audience will "get" any theme or moral you're describing.
If you believe the audience to be stupid, then you'll treat them that way. Generally audiences are treated poorly by suffering through bad, over-illustrative prose.
The problem here is that if you write bad prose, the audience will think you're stupid too.
Treat the audience as you treat yourself. Granted, they don't know the whole story, but you will describe it to them. That's what they're relying on you for, that's why they've chosen your story above all others for their enjoyment.
Remember: They "get" only what YOU provide them. So who is the stupid one?
2. If the story is done, give up control. I am a huge proponent of empowering authors. I believe that a majority of writer-fear can be beaten back by the knowledge that the author is in charge of the story throughout its creation. But creation is only a part of the overall package. Once created, (and we assume editing is a part of creation) the next major phase is publication, wherein the story leaves the author's hands and goes out to the audience for reading. The author cannot race out to every bookstore and change every forty-seventh page to include an extra line, and I think that sense of finality scares some people and keeps them from finishing work.
As with so many other parts of life, you can only control so much for so longer. To try and maintain that control for too long is injurious to the end product. Let go, and let audiences have your work. It's good enough. If it wasn't, it wouldn't have made it past the creation phase.
3. Prose that lays flat on the page, prose that does not evoke feeling or create images can be essentially wasted ink on paper. Further, this waste turns into wasted dollars for the purchaser of your published book, and that sense of waste translates into diminished returns from the audience (why buy a crappy book?). One of the biggest tools in the writer toolbox is the sentence, and the crafting of sentences is what distinguishes authors apart, both in terms of unique style and quality. A sentence is the delivery vehicle for information, and it's alright for sentences from Author #1 to be different from Author #2. In fact, I'll say it's preferable that they are different. HOWEVER: If the sentence is weak, unclear, vague, or grammatically incorrect that is NOT acceptable and will tell the readers/editors/critique-ers of a lack of skill or inability to convey information. (This is what they're counting on you to do, don't let them down. Trust yourself to do this, and do it well.)
Sentence composition is developed through the writing of more, and varied sentences. Practice. Practice putting the verb first, try eliminating clauses, clip adverbs....there are so many options available.
Relinquishing control is part of the process, and a big key to that is accepting that you're good enough to finish pieces and that finished work is "good enough" (because people who are good, write good things).
Trusting the audience is developed by working on both sentence construction and getting over that need to explain things, no matter how mechnical or counter-intuitive this structure may appear. Explain what you need to, what is new/foreign to the audience, and allow them to fill in the blanks. If they get it wrong, if they miss details, then have the rest of your text correct them.
Show, Don't Tell
Having read and worked with a lot of people, I think they've either never gotten this lesson, or they're confused as to its meaning.
So let's go through it.
At the most simplistic, it instructs writers to demonstrate a feeling, an action or a concept, rather than just stating the feeling/action/concept.
Example: Janine was nervous.
This "tells" us what state Janine exists in. She is nervous. Depending on the subsequent sentences, the audience may apply their own understanding of "nervous" to develop the scene.
Example: Janine felt clammy and her stomach churned a little as she moved through the dark house.
This sentence "shows" us what Janine did and allows us to infer from the description what state she was in.
Example: Janine was nervous. Her skin was clammy and her stomach was nauseous.
These two sentences are redundant. The first sentence tells us Janine's state, and the second clarifies it. Specifically, the second sentence directs us to specifically create the condition that "nervous = clammy skin + nausea". The problem with crafting the equation is that until we hear otherwise, all mentions of "nervous" can be defined that way, even if other characters don't express nervousness in that same manner.
There are generally three issues sitting at the heart of the "show/tell" debate:
1. The author does not trust the audience in their ability to see/get/understand the story the way it is intended. - the author thinks the audience is stupid.
2. The author does not want to relinquish control of the story, not even for the purpose of cooperative enjoyment. - the author thinks they should be totally in control, all the time.
3. The author writes poorly, crafting dull sentences that either lack development or suffocate under the weight of their construction. - the author abuses sentences.
Do other issues exist here? Yes, and we'll address them in later posts.
Let's go through these three.
1. The audience is not stupid. If you (the writer) build a clear world, with compelling characters, evocative and reasonable plot, supported by dialogue and dynamic exposition then the audience will "get" any theme or moral you're describing.
If you believe the audience to be stupid, then you'll treat them that way. Generally audiences are treated poorly by suffering through bad, over-illustrative prose.
The problem here is that if you write bad prose, the audience will think you're stupid too.
Treat the audience as you treat yourself. Granted, they don't know the whole story, but you will describe it to them. That's what they're relying on you for, that's why they've chosen your story above all others for their enjoyment.
Remember: They "get" only what YOU provide them. So who is the stupid one?
2. If the story is done, give up control. I am a huge proponent of empowering authors. I believe that a majority of writer-fear can be beaten back by the knowledge that the author is in charge of the story throughout its creation. But creation is only a part of the overall package. Once created, (and we assume editing is a part of creation) the next major phase is publication, wherein the story leaves the author's hands and goes out to the audience for reading. The author cannot race out to every bookstore and change every forty-seventh page to include an extra line, and I think that sense of finality scares some people and keeps them from finishing work.
As with so many other parts of life, you can only control so much for so longer. To try and maintain that control for too long is injurious to the end product. Let go, and let audiences have your work. It's good enough. If it wasn't, it wouldn't have made it past the creation phase.
3. Prose that lays flat on the page, prose that does not evoke feeling or create images can be essentially wasted ink on paper. Further, this waste turns into wasted dollars for the purchaser of your published book, and that sense of waste translates into diminished returns from the audience (why buy a crappy book?). One of the biggest tools in the writer toolbox is the sentence, and the crafting of sentences is what distinguishes authors apart, both in terms of unique style and quality. A sentence is the delivery vehicle for information, and it's alright for sentences from Author #1 to be different from Author #2. In fact, I'll say it's preferable that they are different. HOWEVER: If the sentence is weak, unclear, vague, or grammatically incorrect that is NOT acceptable and will tell the readers/editors/critique-ers of a lack of skill or inability to convey information. (This is what they're counting on you to do, don't let them down. Trust yourself to do this, and do it well.)
Sentence composition is developed through the writing of more, and varied sentences. Practice. Practice putting the verb first, try eliminating clauses, clip adverbs....there are so many options available.
Relinquishing control is part of the process, and a big key to that is accepting that you're good enough to finish pieces and that finished work is "good enough" (because people who are good, write good things).
Trusting the audience is developed by working on both sentence construction and getting over that need to explain things, no matter how mechnical or counter-intuitive this structure may appear. Explain what you need to, what is new/foreign to the audience, and allow them to fill in the blanks. If they get it wrong, if they miss details, then have the rest of your text correct them.
Post #2 - The Conceit of First Person
I do a lot of writing in the first person. It is not a bad point-of-view and allows me to more directly line up my thoughts and translate them into actions. Further, I can express a character's emotions more clearly because the "I" acts to translate and blur the line between thought and action so that the audience can more readily place themselves in the character's shoes.
However, the first person is full of traps. I've outlined a few below:
1. It's all about Me Me Me -- Most grievous among author-errors is forgetting how limited the "I" experience can be. Yes, it is the most direct way to convey narration, thoughts and dialogue in a setting, but at the same time your writing-hands are tied...because you can only write as much as the character knows.
I'm writing this blog in the first person, and while I can easily detail what I'm doing while I write (drinking a glass of water, listening to music) I have NO idea what you are doing while you read it. Maybe you're on the phone, perhaps you're downloading porn - I have no clear way (as a character) of knowing what it is you're doing. As such, I can't describe it. Well, technically, I could describe it, but I better speak in vagaries or with an element of doubt.
2. Narration is inner monologue -- Narration (which is exposition made specific to the character(s)) in the first person acts as monologue. There is very little elemental distinction between what the character thinks and interaction with the world/plot. See here:
I wrote this sentence and considered watching television.
There is a pair of explicit actions present: (i) writing (ii) thoughts about watching television, both of which serve as potential springboards for the upcoming plot. Maybe I will write another sentence, mayhaps I shall go watch television. You (the audience/reader) is propelled forward to see what comes next.
The plot (and potential-plot) are driven forward only by what I say/do/think in response to any stated action. If there's no stated action, then there's no clear indication that I have or will do anything in response. Also, if there is a stated action, and there's no relevance to me, there's not any indication that I'll respond either. Example:
I sat in my chair, looking out the window. It was too warm to do more than sit and sweat.
Starting with the pair of explicit actions (sitting, looking), the text moves from narration to narrative-exposition as I stop talking about myself and move to speak my opinion about the conditions beyond myself.
"It was too warm to do more than sit and sweat" is the opinion of the character. This does create the condition of being warm, and creates an inference that the character giving that opinion is not going to be, or not encouraged to be active. It's an opinion. There's no action in the sentence, so it's monologue.
When you dive into the first-person, and you start to explore the plot, the divisions between who says what (dialogue), what I do (action), what I think (narration/monologue), what else is going on (exposition) all blur, and sometimes horribly fail.
The plot (the conflict which drives the story and compels the characters to grow/change) is built on action, not opinion. While I can spend an entire page describing thought processes (like when a certain girl spends a whole page in chapter 2 pining for her sparkly vampire), that isn't actually moving the plot forward, it only reinforces what is already established. (Or in the case of girl and vampire, it does fuck-all).
How firm a foundation do you need to move things forward? Audiences are not stupid, so stick to this simple formula:
Once you've established some idea or concept, an audience does not need reminders in the immediate future. What you say in line 6 will hold true in line 12, unless you've introduced new conflicting material. Your monologue AT BEST establishes elements and reinforces them, but it is the action-verbs and action-beats which will advance your plot.
3. Sentence abuse -- Just because you write in the first person, you need not start the majority of sentences with "I". The world can still be described (exposition), characters interactions can be fleshed out (narration) all without you starting off with "I" to preface everything.
Bad example: I stood on the catwalk, a few feet from my foe. The whole metal structure swayed, so I bent my knees and grabbed the railing. My old foe, Doctor BadGuy, held Penny by the neck and I felt angry. I wanted to get to her sooner, before he dropped her over the edge.
The words "I" and "my" snake like a ribbon through that text. Notice too, that the character doesn't actually move forward, he instead bends his knees and grabs the railing. He wants to move forward, but doesn't actually. The end result is a lot of wanting (which is hard to describe) and not a lot of tension or movement.
Better example: The catwalk swayed and groaned as I made my way closer and closer to Doctor BadGuy. Penny hung limply in his hands, and although I wanted to save her, risking her life was not an option. Each step seemed to take hours as my old foe grew nearer and nearer. With any luck, I could sock him and grab Penny, before she collapsed or was hurt further.
There are actually more "I" and "my" in this text, but they're not as jarring. This is because the elements of the sentence have been moved around. Instead of stating what "I" does, there is a descriptive, tension-building element placed first, which allows for a more direct explicit action to occur in the first sentence. One sentence in, and we're already doing something. The second sentence does not directly present action, but it does establish context. It discusses what Penny is doing, creates the feeling that she should be saved (by "I") and clarifies that she can/will/should be saved, but not with undue risk. This qualification creates greater tension, which is detailed in the third sentence. Notice here that more action is occuring as the distance between two characters is closed. The final sentence put a nice solidifying bow on the whole thing, raising the tension by inserting a possibile course of future action.
4. Badguys - Since first person is often protagonist-focused (although there is antagonist-driven..but in that case the badguy/goodguy convention is reversed), the audience is often left without clear badguy motivation. We are treated to pages (hundreds of pages) of the hero so that we are made to sympathize, and understand and cooperate with him, but the badguy is only giving examination through the lens of the hero.
If the badguy turns out to be a goodguy all along, we only know that when the hero expresses that idea. If the badguy has been trying to demolish this orphanage, but we later find out that he's doing it because he plans to build a bigger orphanage and oppose the spread of the highway, our conclusions about the badguy come through the hero.
It falls then to the hero to tell the audience how we should then perceive this former badguy, and that's usually accomplished through narration or dialogue:
"I guess he wasn't really a badguy after all." or something like that.
Through that one sentence (or one idea, if you express it differently) the entirety of focus changes about the character. Now we can go back through the book, examine the motives and actions and use the new information we've gained to put together a more full picture of the character.
Third-person is the medium of choice here for this, giving it's objectivity and ability to describe things without limitation. The classic villian-turned-hero has most recently been done well in Rowling's Snape, as the discoveries of the final book allow a total character examination in all the previous books. If it were told in first person, this explanation and lensing of the character would have to be handled in-scene, either in dialogue between two characters (giving the audience a change to "overhear" or as hero-thoughts)
Avoiding these traps is not difficult.
To avoid the "Me Me Me", place yourself in the character, and write only what the character would think/do given the information you've provided thus far. The character does not have the benefit of the entire plot nor the other elements of the story, so put the blinders on and just express THAT character at that time. (If you're on page 7, you can't write/act with the knowledge that on page 90 he's going to die, it makes the future less credible).
To keep your narration clear, establish the exisiting situations WHILE including action. Make sure the characters DO things while they think whatever they're thinking. DO NOT have them do all the thinking first, and then act. It's not what people do.
To avoid sentence abuse, stop building "I-first" sentences. There are billions of other ways to compose the thought, use a variety.
To strengthen your bad guys or express a change in character-nature, remember that HOW you illustrate the change is what will validate the type of change. Do not skimp on this for the sake of expedience or under the assumption that "people get it".
However, the first person is full of traps. I've outlined a few below:
1. It's all about Me Me Me -- Most grievous among author-errors is forgetting how limited the "I" experience can be. Yes, it is the most direct way to convey narration, thoughts and dialogue in a setting, but at the same time your writing-hands are tied...because you can only write as much as the character knows.
I'm writing this blog in the first person, and while I can easily detail what I'm doing while I write (drinking a glass of water, listening to music) I have NO idea what you are doing while you read it. Maybe you're on the phone, perhaps you're downloading porn - I have no clear way (as a character) of knowing what it is you're doing. As such, I can't describe it. Well, technically, I could describe it, but I better speak in vagaries or with an element of doubt.
2. Narration is inner monologue -- Narration (which is exposition made specific to the character(s)) in the first person acts as monologue. There is very little elemental distinction between what the character thinks and interaction with the world/plot. See here:
I wrote this sentence and considered watching television.
There is a pair of explicit actions present: (i) writing (ii) thoughts about watching television, both of which serve as potential springboards for the upcoming plot. Maybe I will write another sentence, mayhaps I shall go watch television. You (the audience/reader) is propelled forward to see what comes next.
The plot (and potential-plot) are driven forward only by what I say/do/think in response to any stated action. If there's no stated action, then there's no clear indication that I have or will do anything in response. Also, if there is a stated action, and there's no relevance to me, there's not any indication that I'll respond either. Example:
I sat in my chair, looking out the window. It was too warm to do more than sit and sweat.
Starting with the pair of explicit actions (sitting, looking), the text moves from narration to narrative-exposition as I stop talking about myself and move to speak my opinion about the conditions beyond myself.
"It was too warm to do more than sit and sweat" is the opinion of the character. This does create the condition of being warm, and creates an inference that the character giving that opinion is not going to be, or not encouraged to be active. It's an opinion. There's no action in the sentence, so it's monologue.
When you dive into the first-person, and you start to explore the plot, the divisions between who says what (dialogue), what I do (action), what I think (narration/monologue), what else is going on (exposition) all blur, and sometimes horribly fail.
The plot (the conflict which drives the story and compels the characters to grow/change) is built on action, not opinion. While I can spend an entire page describing thought processes (like when a certain girl spends a whole page in chapter 2 pining for her sparkly vampire), that isn't actually moving the plot forward, it only reinforces what is already established. (Or in the case of girl and vampire, it does fuck-all).
How firm a foundation do you need to move things forward? Audiences are not stupid, so stick to this simple formula:
create element + solidify element -> move on
Once you've established some idea or concept, an audience does not need reminders in the immediate future. What you say in line 6 will hold true in line 12, unless you've introduced new conflicting material. Your monologue AT BEST establishes elements and reinforces them, but it is the action-verbs and action-beats which will advance your plot.
3. Sentence abuse -- Just because you write in the first person, you need not start the majority of sentences with "I". The world can still be described (exposition), characters interactions can be fleshed out (narration) all without you starting off with "I" to preface everything.
Bad example: I stood on the catwalk, a few feet from my foe. The whole metal structure swayed, so I bent my knees and grabbed the railing. My old foe, Doctor BadGuy, held Penny by the neck and I felt angry. I wanted to get to her sooner, before he dropped her over the edge.
The words "I" and "my" snake like a ribbon through that text. Notice too, that the character doesn't actually move forward, he instead bends his knees and grabs the railing. He wants to move forward, but doesn't actually. The end result is a lot of wanting (which is hard to describe) and not a lot of tension or movement.
Better example: The catwalk swayed and groaned as I made my way closer and closer to Doctor BadGuy. Penny hung limply in his hands, and although I wanted to save her, risking her life was not an option. Each step seemed to take hours as my old foe grew nearer and nearer. With any luck, I could sock him and grab Penny, before she collapsed or was hurt further.
There are actually more "I" and "my" in this text, but they're not as jarring. This is because the elements of the sentence have been moved around. Instead of stating what "I" does, there is a descriptive, tension-building element placed first, which allows for a more direct explicit action to occur in the first sentence. One sentence in, and we're already doing something. The second sentence does not directly present action, but it does establish context. It discusses what Penny is doing, creates the feeling that she should be saved (by "I") and clarifies that she can/will/should be saved, but not with undue risk. This qualification creates greater tension, which is detailed in the third sentence. Notice here that more action is occuring as the distance between two characters is closed. The final sentence put a nice solidifying bow on the whole thing, raising the tension by inserting a possibile course of future action.
4. Badguys - Since first person is often protagonist-focused (although there is antagonist-driven..but in that case the badguy/goodguy convention is reversed), the audience is often left without clear badguy motivation. We are treated to pages (hundreds of pages) of the hero so that we are made to sympathize, and understand and cooperate with him, but the badguy is only giving examination through the lens of the hero.
If the badguy turns out to be a goodguy all along, we only know that when the hero expresses that idea. If the badguy has been trying to demolish this orphanage, but we later find out that he's doing it because he plans to build a bigger orphanage and oppose the spread of the highway, our conclusions about the badguy come through the hero.
It falls then to the hero to tell the audience how we should then perceive this former badguy, and that's usually accomplished through narration or dialogue:
"I guess he wasn't really a badguy after all." or something like that.
Through that one sentence (or one idea, if you express it differently) the entirety of focus changes about the character. Now we can go back through the book, examine the motives and actions and use the new information we've gained to put together a more full picture of the character.
Third-person is the medium of choice here for this, giving it's objectivity and ability to describe things without limitation. The classic villian-turned-hero has most recently been done well in Rowling's Snape, as the discoveries of the final book allow a total character examination in all the previous books. If it were told in first person, this explanation and lensing of the character would have to be handled in-scene, either in dialogue between two characters (giving the audience a change to "overhear" or as hero-thoughts)
Avoiding these traps is not difficult.
To avoid the "Me Me Me", place yourself in the character, and write only what the character would think/do given the information you've provided thus far. The character does not have the benefit of the entire plot nor the other elements of the story, so put the blinders on and just express THAT character at that time. (If you're on page 7, you can't write/act with the knowledge that on page 90 he's going to die, it makes the future less credible).
To keep your narration clear, establish the exisiting situations WHILE including action. Make sure the characters DO things while they think whatever they're thinking. DO NOT have them do all the thinking first, and then act. It's not what people do.
To avoid sentence abuse, stop building "I-first" sentences. There are billions of other ways to compose the thought, use a variety.
To strengthen your bad guys or express a change in character-nature, remember that HOW you illustrate the change is what will validate the type of change. Do not skimp on this for the sake of expedience or under the assumption that "people get it".
Write As If Your Life Depended On It, Post #1
I've started this blog for the benefit of my writing groups, writing clients and for all the writers I know who are trying to get better.
This will NOT be a candy-coated experience. Wherever possible I will be frank, graphic and clear.
My goals are these:
1. To have an outlet for my writing thoughts, as well as present commentary about elements of fiction.
2. To review/critique specific works
3. I need another blog experience.
This will NOT be a candy-coated experience. Wherever possible I will be frank, graphic and clear.
My goals are these:
1. To have an outlet for my writing thoughts, as well as present commentary about elements of fiction.
2. To review/critique specific works
3. I need another blog experience.
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