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It’s Show (and Tell) Time!

“Show, don’t tell” is something of a mantra for fiction writers.

Here’s an example of both:

Telling: “Close the door,” she said nervously.

Showing: Her cigarette trembled in her hand: “Close the door.”

Telling: Peter was a fussy, neat sort of man.

Showing: Every Monday, Peter ironed and folded his towels into perfect squares and stacked them in the airing press, according to size and colour.

“Showing” your reader what your protagonist is thinking/doing, encourages your reader to engage more with your book/story/play, to interpret and  picture what is going on. Showing also allows for more atmosphere and lends insight into character. Conversely, “telling” tends to deliver all the information neatly wrapped and can deny the reader all the fun of involvement and imagining.

Therefore, rather than telling the reader, ‘Bob was depressed,’ you might describe what Bob was doing and saying and the reader will also get a greater sense of ‘Bob’ if you do so.

Having said that, if the writer “shows” every inch of their novel it may bore the reader and slow the pace. There are times, for the sake of speed and economy, the writer needs to “tell”, so they can quickly move on to the next stage of the story.

If I could suggest a rule of thumb, it would be “show” the most important parts/events of the story and “tell” the minor linking passages. It’s your judgement call as to when and where to show or tell, but do give it thought.

Finally, please bear in mind the general consensus is that you always avoid telling via adverbs in speech attribution: “he said arrogantly”, “she shouted defiantly”, “we mumbled apologetically”. Instead, try to think of ways you could show this arrogance, defiance or apology.


Mona was a waitress and she was in trouble. Big trouble…

Telling stories in the third person…

Shift over, she was beat. Checking her phone, Mona saw Detective Daxter had called again...

The third person (he/she/it) is the most common narrative point-of-view. The third person observes the main character(s) from a distance, describing how others might see/consider your protagonist. In other words, it gives the narrator greater scope and view privileges than the first person narrator.

If you are writing an extended piece of fiction, you might find it easier and more accommodating to work with a third person narrator. The following are some varieties of this narrative point-of-view

* Nowadays, it is common to have a third person narrator that observes your main character whilst simultaneously looking over his/her shoulder and seeing the story almost from his/her point of view. This ‘over-the-shoulder’ third person narrator can provide some of the advantages of the first person without the drawbacks – however, it is somewhat limited as you are largely viewing events from your character’s POV. For emerging writers, this third person narrative may be a safer bet if wanting to attract an agent.

* You may want your narrator to be quite separate from your character, however. In which case, you could have your narrator follow him/her from a distance, observing actions as if a camera and not directly informing the reader of the character’s inner thoughts.

* Or you could have an omniscient third person narrator – a ‘God-like’ storyteller who sees all and knows all.

The “It” narrative

This is an unusual form of third person narration that tells a tale from the point of view of an object or an animal. An “it” narrative might conceivably be the story of a ring, told by the ring, as it recounts its many owners etc…

Multi narrators

Some books/plays/films are narratives told from various POVs. More common in Victorian prose than in contemporary writing, multi narrators allow for a vigorous description of a community and is useful if the author wants to concentrate on the interconnectivity of a place.

Whichever variety you choose, it is important to be style consistent throughout your work (or if you aren’t, have a reason for that).


I, Me, Mine

 

Once you’ve found your character, the next decision you’ll make regards narrative point-of-view. Think of your favourite novels. Do you favour 1st person (“I”) or 3rd person (“he/she/it”) books? Chances are, you’ll write more comfortably using the type of narrative point-of-view you prefer to read.

Today I’d like to blog about using the first person narrative point-of-view. If you chose the “I” narrative, or first person, your tale will be viewed through the eyes of one of your characters and events will be expressed in that character’s language and should reflect this character’s perceptions and opinions.

The first person can be very intimate and often allows access to the protagonist’s innermost thoughts, which is a helpful method of hooking the reader.

 On the negative side, all that “I, me, my” can be akin to listening to a monologue – and may bore the reader, if you’re not careful. Additionally, you are limited as to what you can tell the reader, as you can only “know” what your narrating character “knows”. Finally, littering the page with “I”s – neither looks nor “sounds” appealing. For the above reasons, the first person is often more suited to short stories rather than novels. Having said that, there are wonderful first person novels out there and if you are determined to use a first person narrator, you really ought to read great examples of this narrative point-of-view to get a good handle on it:

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemmingway

Also, a first person narrator could be a minor character observing a major character, which may remedy some of the pitfalls outlined above. Examples of this type of narrative include Sherlock Holmes and Wuthering Heights.

The Unreliable First Person Narrator 

My personal favourite first person narrator is the unreliable variety. It has great comic/tragic potential. With an unreliable narrator, the story is told by a character that doesn’t really “get” what is going on. The reader guesses the true state of affairs, however, and the narrator becomes the butt of the joke. An unreliable narrator is often a child or a naïve or foolish person who does fully comprehend how the world works (think Forrest Gump). The resulting book/play/short story can be quite funny and/or very moving. See the following examples:

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night by Mark Haddon

Good Behaviour by Molly Keane

Bridget Jones’ Diary by Helen Fielding

 


A Question of Character

What is his favourite joke?

If you want to hook your readers, you’ll need a character that leaps off the page. A good character is believable and interesting. Firstly, be careful your character is not of music-hall-cliche stock (dumb blonde, greedy banker, uber-organized German, upper class twit etc…) – the problem here is that the reader will have met your character far too many times before to find them interesting now. As usual, turning the cliche on its head can be a good place to start getting ideas (chess-master page three girl, a banker who secretly gives away money etc…)

Also, don’t focus on describing what they look like from head to toe. In fact, their general physical appearance is not so revealing – the key is often in the interesting quirks and blemishes. Moreover, you ought to climb inside your character’s skin, get to know them intimately and let the reader see how they tick. It  is  good if there is something unusual about them. Here’s a sample list of questions you could mull in order to give your character depth:

Rather than describe the colour of their hair and eyes, write instead about their height, posture and walk.

If you first met this character, what would strike you most?

What is their natural scent or preferred perfume or aftershave.

What sort of diet do they have and what has been the physical impact of this regime?

What does their best friend think of them?

What happens when your character gets drunk?

What does your character have in his/her pockets/handbag?

What is your character’s favourite joke?

Also, to make your character particularly memorable, give him/her/it a singular physical attribute your reader will long associate with them. Think of it this way, if you were going to a costume party dressed as Harry Potter, Sherlock Holmes, Miss Havisham or Liesbeth Salander – what would you need? My guesses are, respectively: a lightening bolt scar, a deerhunter hat and pipe, an old wedding dress, and a dragon tattoo. Try to imagine what you’d need to be recognizable as your character.


That’s Just Pathetic!

Your Character Looks on the Bright Side?

“Pathetic fallacy” is the posh academic term that refers to the technique of ascribing human emotions to inanimate objects, usually to reflect a character’s mood. For example, say your protagonist falls in love; you might describe flowers laughing and trees waving their branches gleefully. Or perhaps there’s been a loss, and suddenly the landscape looks bleak and there’s rain and clouds a-brewin.

“Pathetic fallacy” was very popular with the Victorian novelists – I always think of Thomas Hardy when asked to give an example. Therein, however, lies the problem – “pathetic fallacy” is a little out of fashion nowadays. This demise is partly due to the modern attention span. If you’ve ever read novels by the Brontes, Dickens, Elliot or Hardy – you’ll know all about lengthy landscape description and frankly, how dull it can be for modern readers. If you absolutely need to say how each field in the valley looked, then spread your descriptions out over the course of your work. Above all, as Elmore Leonard wrote, “Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.”

Another reason “pathetic fallacy” is no longer de rigueur in the literary world, is that it can seem a tad cliché. For example, if your protag is heading home to see his wife and there’s a storm, and they fight… yawn. Your foreshadowing’s is derivative, predictable and boring.

Still, “pathetic fallacy” has its place in the literary toolbox. It can provide emphasis for mood. I suggest using it sparingly, with caution and avoid storm/argument, rain/depression, sunny days/falling-in-love clichés.

Personally, I like to turn PF on its head and have my character see beauty in rain or trouble in sunshine or make a storm a symbol of peace. In short, my advice would be to use PF by all means, but when you do, surprise your reader.

Oh, and whatever you do, never open with a “pathetic fallacy” weather report. That’s the biggest cliché in the cliché box. I mean, it’s just pathetic : )

There's a Storm Comin'


Life In The Blurbs

Can You Sum Up Your Story On A Pebble?

Blurbs, those wee plot synopses on the back of books, are a great writers’ tool. Firstly, writing a blurb for your yet-to-be-written novel helps you get to the kernel of what it is all about. Secondly, penning such a blurb will prompt you to imagine your novel as a reality and motivate you to keep going and finish what you’ve started.

Also, reading the blurb of a novel that closely resembles your own will help you get to the bones of your own story, structure and theme. Look at how these other works are summed up. Do they concentrate on plot or theme or character? What is the hook? And what is yours?

Remember, a blurb is not a synopsis. Blurbs are short, the shorter the better, maybe a line or two long. Some are even just a few words. You don’t have to condense your story to “Jaws in Space” but do boil it down as much you can. If you had to sell your story on the back of a postage stamp or a pebble, what would you write?

When you’ve crafted your blurb, place it close to your writing place. It will keep you focused on what your book is about – and make sure that point is then evident in the very DNA of every moment of your book.

Finally, when it comes to approaching agents, having a well-written blurb you can include in a cover letter will prove very useful. Your blurb is your elevator pitch. Spend time on it and perfect it.

 


Think Outside the Castle

Aliens invade Liverpool building?

When considering the setting for your story you turn to atmosphere. What mood do you want to give your work? If you require a spooky setting, you may be inclined to set your story in an environment that most would find unnerving such as a disused factory, an isolated house, a museum at night etc… If your novel is a romance, then perhaps an elegant European hotel on a lake might do the trick. Although….

Challenging Your Readers’ Preconceptions

…You could think about capturing your reader’s imagination by turning settings on their head. In Alex Garland’s book, The Beach, he took a paradisiacal environment and made it a hellish place, as did William Golding in Lord of the Flies.

Likewise, you could take a grim, poor council estate riddled with crime and drugs and set a love story there. Endear its readers by accentuating the positives in the ugly setting (sense of community spirit, humour etc…).

Surprise and challenge your readers’ preconceptions, it will make for a memorable tale. Why not take a suburban house and people it with elves to create a Fantasy novel. What about an action thriller set around the world of chess? Or yoga? Horror often works all the better when set in a mundane, everyday location rather than Dracula’s Castle. Think outside that castle.

A Family of Trolls Move to Amagansett, East Hampton?


All Three Monkeys And More – sensory writing

What Can Your Character Physically Feel and Touch?

Confining your description of a setting to what is visible, is not to do it justice. A writer should encourage the reader to imagine using all five senses. Think of what this environment would smell like, taste like, feel like and the sounds you would hear. The sense of smell is particularly potent as it is the strongest of memory triggers and naming a distinctive scent will pull your readers into your work.

Sight:::Hearing::::Smell::::Taste::::Touch::::Sight:::Hearing::::Smell::::Taste::::Touch

Compare the following:

Isobel lay on the ground and gazed at a sky dotted with yellow leaves. Smoke curled into view and her eyes  followed its trail to a nearby bonfire.

With

Isobel lay on the ground and gazed at a sky dotted with yellow leaves. The branches rustled like paper bags and the wind carried the scent of a bonfire and air that tasted of earth, smoked, damp earth and beneath her, wet mud seeped through her clothes and onto her skin, cold and embracing.

I think you’ll agree that the second version draws the reader into the setting, allowing them to roundly experience the landscape – via every imaginary sense.

What Can Your Character Hear?

Try to use all senses to describe the following:

Prison cell

Hospital ward

Beach Pub

School room

Your grandmother’s sitting room


You Are Here

On a Busy City Street

A literary setting refers to the landscape and the people/characters that fill it. The setting is the signature of many a writer: Stieg Larsson and Sweden (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo), Annie Rice and New Orleans (Interview with a Vampire), John le Carre, the world of spies.

Writing what/where you know

It is often said you should “write what you know”. A sensible approach, especially for the new writer. By placing your characters in scenes and situations with which you are familiar, you are more likely to invest a sense of realism in the story. Also, practically speaking, writing about familiar territory will save on research you might otherwise have to do on a subject/setting.

Some writers resist writing what they know as they feel their own environments are not “glamorous” or “extraordinary” enough to merit such attention. This is nonsense. Whatever you do and whoever you are, your life will seem exotic to someone else. The fact that you grew up on a council estate/project developent in Bolton/Kalamazoo is interesting to someone living on a farm in Siberia. Remember, the life of an immigrant taxi-driver would quite likely fascinate the Queen of England.

Also, you don’t necessarily have to set your story in your street or your workplace. Think of your Saturday morning football team, your school, the nightclubs you frequent, a hospital you’ve spent time in or a prison. All are equally valuable settings for a short story, novel, play, film script or even poem or song.

Your environment is your gold, mine it.

 

But I don’t want to write about my environment…

 

That’s fine too. There is also case for “writing what you don’t know”. Fantasy writers, for example, are (usually) not elves living in Middle Earth. Historical fiction writers have not lived in Tudor England. Yet, Fantasy/SciFi/Historical novels are written and enjoyed every year.

For Fantasy/SciFi you need a familiarity with the genre and a vivid imagination. For historical fiction you need to like research. For all the above you’ll require the ability to convincingly create an unfamiliar world.

Bear in mind, however, that while a Fantasy writer won’t get complaints from angry elves about his misinformed stereotypes.

A novelist who sets a story in a modern French monastery, and knows nothing about France or monks – is asking for trouble. Firstly, their prose may be riddled with (skewed) perceptions of France and the French, monks/Catholicism/wine-making etc… And not only is there danger of rehashing clichés, their writing might lack the detailed realism a reader finds so reassuring and intriguing. So, if you want to write about banditos in the mountains of Sardinia, and you can’t go and live there for a year – then research, research, research. Read as much as you can on the topic, as well as any other fiction that has used the same environment as a setting.

In a Magical Castle

 

 


Haiku! Bless you…

Autumn at Annaghmakerrig

The Japanese know how to appreciate the moment: think of those tea ceremonies where the design and the feel of the cup is lauded, the colour of the drink discussed, the scent, the very feel of the beverage dissected and praised. Not surprising, therefore, the land of the rising sun gave us the haiku.

Haiku is a poetic form that, traditionally, aims to capture a moment in nature, like a snapshot with words. Again, this is most typically achieved using seventeen syllables arranged in three unrhymed lines of five, seven and five syllables.

The practice of writing haikus is particularly useful if you are engaged in a word-limited literary arena such as writing songs. In such instances, words should be chosen carefully so that they can convey the specific mood, meaning and impact you require and haikus can help you build up that muscle. Haikus encourage you to pick up every word and study it closely for its sound, meaning, feel and impact. Here are some examples of the haiku:

 

Over the wintry

forest, winds howl in  rage

with no leaves to blow.

Soseki (1275-1351)

My all time favourite, however, is the haiku by the ‘punk poet, John Cooper Clarke:

 

Writing a poem

In seventeen syllables

Is very diffic.

(John Cooper Clarke, 1979)

 

Which also serves as a useful memory aide for the form…

 

The picture here is crying out for a haiku, can you think of one?