Came across this is a review of Norah Jones's latest:
"That would be like hating on peaches for being juicy."
I am always-- who knows why-- charmed by the term "hating on." "Hating" is a static verb, referring to a feeling. (I am hating the smell of that banana peel in the trashcan under my desk.)
But "hating on" is an active verb. It's a new construction, but generally means that I don't just statically hate this thing, but I, you know, bitch about it, write nasty Tweets about it, leave bad reviews on the Amazon page. That is, I actively act on my hatred when I hate on something.
We should remember that when we're writing character emotions. If a character has strong emotion, she doesn't just feel the emotion. She acts on it in some way, especially if she can't formulate the thought or speak the words because the emotion is verboten somehow. She might not be dumb enough to SAY or even "think outloud" the thought, "I hate my best friend," but if she hates her best friend, she's going to show it somehow. She'll clench up when the friend comes close. She'll notice the friend's number on her cell phone display and refuse to answer it. She'll accidentally on purpose forward the friend's confidential rant about her boss to the boss. She might not TELL the emotion, but she'll SHOW it.
Telling what the character is feeling is good. It shows character depth. But it's not enough, especially when the character isn't able to articulate or own up to the feeling. Try showing it instead, and I don't mean useless actions like kicking that banana-redolent trashcan.For example, she closes the phone and ignores her friend's phone call, thereby missing out on the warning that her department is going to be closed and she laid off. Or her friend is fired by the boss and vows eternal revenge against the company, not realizing it was our character's fault for forwarding the email.
How can the character hate on or love on or deliberate on or worry on or bitter on or resent on in a way that affects the plot or at least that scene?
Alicia
Showing posts with label show don't tell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label show don't tell. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Wisdom From Our Theater Friends
Sometimes I read books in fields tangential to publishing to see if I can find a new way to look at a writing issue. Currently I'm re-reading Sonia Moore's "The Stanislavski System" about acting technique because I find acting books contain useful tidbits about character. (And also because I was tearing my house apart looking for my Billy Mernit book, "Writing the Romantic Comedy," with the side effect that I now have a huge pile of rediscovered books I want to re-read.) (And yes, I found the Mernit, mis-shelved in baffling fashion with a stack of old chick lit novels. Go figure.) (Though, now that I think about it, that kind of makes sense.)
Anyway. Re-reading Moore, and ran across this paragraph which I thought I'd share. Not about character craft, but about audience relationship with the performance. From the chapter Elements of an Action, section Communion--
To make the meaning and logic of his actions understandable to the spectators, an actor must communicate with them indirectly, through his communion with other actors. ...[W]hen an actor has direct contact with spectators he becomes merely a reporter instead of a live character. This relationship disrupts the truth of the performance and distracts the audience from the play itself. An honest, unbroken communion between actors, on the other hand, holds the spectators' attention and makes them part of what takes place on stage.
This reminds me of a drawing we used in one of my dramatic writing classes in college. Character One and Character Two interact with each other, and the audience witnesses the interaction:
Please forgive my insanely crappy drawing skills. But despite my inARTiculateness *har*har* this drawing might make clear what we're talking about. It's about how a scene is perceived and how to control the attention of the viewer.
When we translate this concept to fiction, we're basically talking about point of view and the old "show, don't tell" rule. In other words, whether in theater or on the page, when characters interact directly with each other, the action is more interesting. When the characters interpret the action directly TO the reader-- whether through omniscient narration, exposition, or other methods -- it's less compelling.
Why is this? Dunno. Maybe we're just hardwired for it. I mean, what's more likely to capture your attention -- film footage of a train colliding into a car, or a guy with a mic talking about it? Direct experience just feels more compelling, even if we're merely witnessing that direct experience from a safe distance. I mean, nobody actually wants to be driving that car. But the film footage of the wreck itself might go viral.
So, how do we work this to our advantage in fiction? Use some of the things we've spent over three years exploring on this blog.
Do you see how these things sort of interrelate? They all have to do, more or less, with narrative distance between the reader and the characters. The default should be something closer, rather than farther, but the main thing is to become conscious of the ways you can push the reader back just by simple word choices and narrative choices.
Theresa
Anyway. Re-reading Moore, and ran across this paragraph which I thought I'd share. Not about character craft, but about audience relationship with the performance. From the chapter Elements of an Action, section Communion--
To make the meaning and logic of his actions understandable to the spectators, an actor must communicate with them indirectly, through his communion with other actors. ...[W]hen an actor has direct contact with spectators he becomes merely a reporter instead of a live character. This relationship disrupts the truth of the performance and distracts the audience from the play itself. An honest, unbroken communion between actors, on the other hand, holds the spectators' attention and makes them part of what takes place on stage.
This reminds me of a drawing we used in one of my dramatic writing classes in college. Character One and Character Two interact with each other, and the audience witnesses the interaction:
Please forgive my insanely crappy drawing skills. But despite my inARTiculateness *har*har* this drawing might make clear what we're talking about. It's about how a scene is perceived and how to control the attention of the viewer.
When we translate this concept to fiction, we're basically talking about point of view and the old "show, don't tell" rule. In other words, whether in theater or on the page, when characters interact directly with each other, the action is more interesting. When the characters interpret the action directly TO the reader-- whether through omniscient narration, exposition, or other methods -- it's less compelling.
Why is this? Dunno. Maybe we're just hardwired for it. I mean, what's more likely to capture your attention -- film footage of a train colliding into a car, or a guy with a mic talking about it? Direct experience just feels more compelling, even if we're merely witnessing that direct experience from a safe distance. I mean, nobody actually wants to be driving that car. But the film footage of the wreck itself might go viral.
So, how do we work this to our advantage in fiction? Use some of the things we've spent over three years exploring on this blog.
- Pay attention to how your narrative is weighted. Check the proportions of your narrative elements. You do this by looking at how much space they take on the page. In most ordinary commercial fiction scenes, there should be lots of action and dialogue, with the next biggest chunk coming from interior monologue, and then description. Exposition should be minimal, regardless of the form of the exposition. (NOTE: I'm not telling you to totally eliminate your exposition. Just keep it lighter than the other elements.)
- Make sure your interior monologue is true interior monologue, that is, not summary that tries to pretend to be interior monologue. Example: She wondered if he would like an apple pie for their picnic is not true IM. Would he like an apple pie for their picnic? is IM. She wondered is a thought tag that interprets the nature of the thought for the reader, so it removes us from the direct experience of her interior monologue. (NOTE: I'm not telling you that all thought tags are per se evil. But use them deliberately and sparingly for effect. Okay, Alicia? lol)
- Use gestures in place of mood words to make the experience more vivid. (Show, don't tell.) Example: She felt angry at him is less effective than She threw her napkin at him.
Do you see how these things sort of interrelate? They all have to do, more or less, with narrative distance between the reader and the characters. The default should be something closer, rather than farther, but the main thing is to become conscious of the ways you can push the reader back just by simple word choices and narrative choices.
Theresa
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Leona line edit
Leona:
She heard Daniel-Jirel’s repeated no’s as he looked at Jenna’s face. She could also feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves. He rolled her partially over, holding his breath as he turned her to check for more wounds.
The body was cold; telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body. He held back his despair by looking around to see if he could find clues as to who had done such a despicable thing. He was afraid he knew but hoped he was wrong. He was fairly certain the damage to her face had been done by an optical resonator crystal laser.
Am I right to assume that the optical whatsit means this is set in the future? Heck, what do I know-- maybe that already exists. But it makes me think this is the near-future.
She heard Daniel-Jirel’s repeated no’s as he looked at Jenna’s face.
I don't know who "she" is-- presumably you identify that in the paragraph immediately above. You're right to use the pronoun. You don't want a name is this line when there are two others.
repeated no’s
This is one of those quandaries I'd write around. See, an apostrophe-s usually means a possessive, which this is not. An S with no apostrophe of course usually means a plural, which this is (more than one no). There really isn't an easy way to pluralize words like "no" or dates like the 60s, though we're going much more for the simple S these days (see, the Royal Society for the Preservation of Apostrophes is having an effect :). Trouble is, it makes "nos" almost unrecognizable as "the plural of no", and adding -es (as we sometimes but not always do after an O ending) results in "noes," which looks like a misspelling of "nose".
So rather than try to figure out what would be 1) correct, and 2) easy understandable, I'd re-cast the sentence. :) You know, also, if it's something he's saying and she's hearing, I'd prefer it in dialogue anyway. It's more visually interesting that way, and adds the sharpness of authenticity where a narrative summary wouldn't. So try something like--
She heard him whisper, "No, no, no," as he looked at Jenna’s face.
She could also feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves.
"off of him" can be trimmed to "off him" and then you don't give the reader that momentary "huh?" of the two similar words next to each other.
You have "also feel" like she's been feeling before, but in the sentence before, she was hearing. So She could feel is just fine.
Whoever "she" is-- she's not giving a very interesting perspective, and I wonder why you decided to put this paragraph in her viewpoint, especially when the NEXT paragraph is in his viewpoint. What's interesting about her POV? She's kind of just narrating what's happening, and there's no reason that can't be done in his POV (so there's no shift).
Maybe she's an empath, and she can literally feel the guilt coming off him? But notice that first, you don't need to be an empath to pick up another person's guilt, and second, she has no reaction. If the guilt is rolling off him, if it's strong emotion, wouldn't she react? Maybe step back, or put her hands up to ward off the feeling?
That's the real problem-- "She" isn't really here at all. She's just a narrator, a camera recording what's going on. Where's her emotion? What does this all mean to her? Does she have some connection to these two people? Does she care what's happened? Daniel feels guilt-- what does she feel? Triumph? Horror? Jealousy?
Now you might not want to get into her emotions, but if you're going to use her just as a narrator, make her a better narrator. What's it feel like to be there? Can you subtly insert some setting detail? You might have done this in the paragraph before, but if she is narrating, she notices what as this is happening? Do Daniel's words echo in the still night? Or do they get lost in the cacophony of the traffic in the nearby street? Does he fall on his knees on the wet pavement next to the body, or squat down in the mud, or move carefully across the marble floor to her side? Does "she" see all this in the glow of the streetlamp or the glare of the sun?
You don't need all the senses engaged here, just the ones that "feel" most to her. She's the POV character, our eyes and ears on the scene, so what can she tell us that puts us right there? This might take more words, of course.
He rolled her partially over, holding his breath as he turned her to check for more wounds.
Who is "her"? Two women in the scene. He rolled Jenna? He rolled "the body"? (That will signal, of course, that Jenna is dead- no longer Jenna, but "the body", and you might not want to signal that yet.)
This line isn't in her perspective, or rather, it could be just as easily in his, in the next paragraph. Think about why you put this paragraph in "her" POV. What effect did you mean to create for the reader? If "she" can't give us a more interesting perspective, I'd say put the whole passage in Daniel's POV. He has what "she" doesn't-- a stake in the event, an emotional reaction, a specific task to perform (checking the body).
I truly don't mean that single POV is the only way to go. However, it should probably be the default because it's easier for the writer and the reader. Use another POV when it can provide something important, a new approach, an interesting perspective, a glimpse of character through her perception. You can do that here in the first paragraph-- she's got to care, if not about Jenna than about Daniel, right? So be in her. What emotion is she feeling as Daniel falls to his knees on the wet pavement (or the marble floor or whatever)? You don't have to explain it all, but KNOW it. Know what she's feeling, what her emotional filter is, and let that infuse the word choice and sentence design.
Let's say, for example, that she was the one who murdered Jenna. Well, that's interesting. So she sees Daniel drop to his knees (or whatever) and what does she feel? If she loves Daniel, if Jenna was a rival, she might initially feel triumphant that her rival is dead, and then, when she feels Daniel's pain, she might feel a sort of uncomprehending anger, and realize that even if Jenna is dead, the jealousy is not.
Or maybe she's Jenna's sister. Or maybe she's Daniel's mother. What's her role here? What's her emotion? Even if she's a sociopath, she'd feel something, even if it's the absence of feeling.
She felt nothing but mild interest as Daniel turned the body over. How intriguing, those waves of guilt coming off him. She wondered what it felt like, to feel guilt.
Just an example-- her lack of emotion is an emotional response.
The body was cold; telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
Now we're in his POV, and we know that because you have a mind-term (telling him-- that is, we know we're in his mind).
Here’s a website with all sorts of information about punctuation.
The semicolon should be a comma. Semicolons separate two independent clauses (can be a complete sentence on its own), and what you have here is one independent clause:
The body was cold
and a participial phrase, albeit a long one:
telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
Notice that the clause there is a lot shorter than the modifying participle, and that the participle modifies not a noun (body?) but the whole clause-- what told him? The coldness of the body. So you might think of simplifying the clause into a noun so the participle can become the predicate. I'm not saying that's a good idea-- I tend to like short clauses with long modifiers, just because I'm difficult, and I sometimes like that rhythm. But just try it out. Remember: One of the glories of the English language is its near-infinite variety of sentence constructions. So experiment. Here's how it would look:
The body's chill told him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
The benefit there is that the most important information isn't buried so much.
Also think about action here. Does he reach out and touch her still belly? What would his hand do? What would his body do? What would he do?
One interesting trick is to show emotion through body action, especially nearly involuntary body action. Strong emotion shows itself in body action. The emotion that leads a man to touch a woman's dead body is a different emotion than the emotion that would make him back away. The reader will know the emotion by "seeing" the action.
He held back his despair by looking around to see if he could find clues as to who had done such a despicable thing. He was afraid he knew but hoped he was wrong.
See, you're using words instead of action to show the emotion. Try using action. The words are fine too, but if you can SHOW in action, you might not have to TELL in words. Keep in mind that you're in his head, and he's not necessarily going to think those words. Maybe he will. Just try and act it out in your own body; act the emotion, and then narrate what the emotion would make him do. You actually already have that-- his despair is shown by him looking around. Now here's how it might be in a sort of deep POV, which I don't think you are doing, but here's an example:
Clues. There had to be some clues. He looked around the body-- anywhere but at the body-- for the clue that would tell him who had done this. He already knew. But maybe he was wrong. He hoped he was wrong.
Now watch the shiniest words. "Despicable" holds the unfortunate echo of Daffy Duck's lisp, so it's probably the wrong word no matter what. But I just deleted a "terrible" from something I wrote -- "It was a terrible thing to say." What's wrong with that? (Okay, it's a cliche, and "thing" is seldom a good option. Besides those.) Words like "terrible" and "despicable" draw too much attention to themselves, when the attention should be on -- on what was said, on what was done. A murder is a despicable act-- we don't need to be told that. If what my guy just said was terrible, the reader probably noticed without having to be told. You don't want the reader to be irritated: "Yeah, yeah, I noticed."
He was fairly certain the damage to her face had been done by an optical resonator crystal laser.
Come on, come on. We're not babies. We can stand it. Show us her face. What lets him think it's been done by a whatever?
Also watch your wiggle-words. "Fairly certain" implies a calibration of certainty that we can't interpret. It's precision without meaning. How about "He thought" or "The damage looked like it had been done with..."
"Fairly" calls way too much attention to itself, and it's not even a shiny word.
And remember that he's got a body and it can move. What can he do to her face to tell him what did the damage?
With a gentle finger, he touched the scorch mark under her lower lip. That sort of damage could have been done with...
He steeled himself and spread his hand over her forehead. The gel there used to be her skin.
etc.
So try writing this more in the body of the POV character. Try showing emotion in the action. If that doesn't work, you can always go back to the words. But try it and see if you can FEEL it more, and show it more.
Alicia
She heard Daniel-Jirel’s repeated no’s as he looked at Jenna’s face. She could also feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves. He rolled her partially over, holding his breath as he turned her to check for more wounds.
The body was cold; telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body. He held back his despair by looking around to see if he could find clues as to who had done such a despicable thing. He was afraid he knew but hoped he was wrong. He was fairly certain the damage to her face had been done by an optical resonator crystal laser.
Am I right to assume that the optical whatsit means this is set in the future? Heck, what do I know-- maybe that already exists. But it makes me think this is the near-future.
She heard Daniel-Jirel’s repeated no’s as he looked at Jenna’s face.
I don't know who "she" is-- presumably you identify that in the paragraph immediately above. You're right to use the pronoun. You don't want a name is this line when there are two others.
repeated no’s
This is one of those quandaries I'd write around. See, an apostrophe-s usually means a possessive, which this is not. An S with no apostrophe of course usually means a plural, which this is (more than one no). There really isn't an easy way to pluralize words like "no" or dates like the 60s, though we're going much more for the simple S these days (see, the Royal Society for the Preservation of Apostrophes is having an effect :). Trouble is, it makes "nos" almost unrecognizable as "the plural of no", and adding -es (as we sometimes but not always do after an O ending) results in "noes," which looks like a misspelling of "nose".
So rather than try to figure out what would be 1) correct, and 2) easy understandable, I'd re-cast the sentence. :) You know, also, if it's something he's saying and she's hearing, I'd prefer it in dialogue anyway. It's more visually interesting that way, and adds the sharpness of authenticity where a narrative summary wouldn't. So try something like--
She heard him whisper, "No, no, no," as he looked at Jenna’s face.
She could also feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves.
"off of him" can be trimmed to "off him" and then you don't give the reader that momentary "huh?" of the two similar words next to each other.
You have "also feel" like she's been feeling before, but in the sentence before, she was hearing. So She could feel is just fine.
Whoever "she" is-- she's not giving a very interesting perspective, and I wonder why you decided to put this paragraph in her viewpoint, especially when the NEXT paragraph is in his viewpoint. What's interesting about her POV? She's kind of just narrating what's happening, and there's no reason that can't be done in his POV (so there's no shift).
Maybe she's an empath, and she can literally feel the guilt coming off him? But notice that first, you don't need to be an empath to pick up another person's guilt, and second, she has no reaction. If the guilt is rolling off him, if it's strong emotion, wouldn't she react? Maybe step back, or put her hands up to ward off the feeling?
That's the real problem-- "She" isn't really here at all. She's just a narrator, a camera recording what's going on. Where's her emotion? What does this all mean to her? Does she have some connection to these two people? Does she care what's happened? Daniel feels guilt-- what does she feel? Triumph? Horror? Jealousy?
Now you might not want to get into her emotions, but if you're going to use her just as a narrator, make her a better narrator. What's it feel like to be there? Can you subtly insert some setting detail? You might have done this in the paragraph before, but if she is narrating, she notices what as this is happening? Do Daniel's words echo in the still night? Or do they get lost in the cacophony of the traffic in the nearby street? Does he fall on his knees on the wet pavement next to the body, or squat down in the mud, or move carefully across the marble floor to her side? Does "she" see all this in the glow of the streetlamp or the glare of the sun?
You don't need all the senses engaged here, just the ones that "feel" most to her. She's the POV character, our eyes and ears on the scene, so what can she tell us that puts us right there? This might take more words, of course.
He rolled her partially over, holding his breath as he turned her to check for more wounds.
Who is "her"? Two women in the scene. He rolled Jenna? He rolled "the body"? (That will signal, of course, that Jenna is dead- no longer Jenna, but "the body", and you might not want to signal that yet.)
This line isn't in her perspective, or rather, it could be just as easily in his, in the next paragraph. Think about why you put this paragraph in "her" POV. What effect did you mean to create for the reader? If "she" can't give us a more interesting perspective, I'd say put the whole passage in Daniel's POV. He has what "she" doesn't-- a stake in the event, an emotional reaction, a specific task to perform (checking the body).
I truly don't mean that single POV is the only way to go. However, it should probably be the default because it's easier for the writer and the reader. Use another POV when it can provide something important, a new approach, an interesting perspective, a glimpse of character through her perception. You can do that here in the first paragraph-- she's got to care, if not about Jenna than about Daniel, right? So be in her. What emotion is she feeling as Daniel falls to his knees on the wet pavement (or the marble floor or whatever)? You don't have to explain it all, but KNOW it. Know what she's feeling, what her emotional filter is, and let that infuse the word choice and sentence design.
Let's say, for example, that she was the one who murdered Jenna. Well, that's interesting. So she sees Daniel drop to his knees (or whatever) and what does she feel? If she loves Daniel, if Jenna was a rival, she might initially feel triumphant that her rival is dead, and then, when she feels Daniel's pain, she might feel a sort of uncomprehending anger, and realize that even if Jenna is dead, the jealousy is not.
Or maybe she's Jenna's sister. Or maybe she's Daniel's mother. What's her role here? What's her emotion? Even if she's a sociopath, she'd feel something, even if it's the absence of feeling.
She felt nothing but mild interest as Daniel turned the body over. How intriguing, those waves of guilt coming off him. She wondered what it felt like, to feel guilt.
Just an example-- her lack of emotion is an emotional response.
The body was cold; telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
Now we're in his POV, and we know that because you have a mind-term (telling him-- that is, we know we're in his mind).
Here’s a website with all sorts of information about punctuation.
The semicolon should be a comma. Semicolons separate two independent clauses (can be a complete sentence on its own), and what you have here is one independent clause:
The body was cold
and a participial phrase, albeit a long one:
telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
Notice that the clause there is a lot shorter than the modifying participle, and that the participle modifies not a noun (body?) but the whole clause-- what told him? The coldness of the body. So you might think of simplifying the clause into a noun so the participle can become the predicate. I'm not saying that's a good idea-- I tend to like short clauses with long modifiers, just because I'm difficult, and I sometimes like that rhythm. But just try it out. Remember: One of the glories of the English language is its near-infinite variety of sentence constructions. So experiment. Here's how it would look:
The body's chill told him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
The benefit there is that the most important information isn't buried so much.
Also think about action here. Does he reach out and touch her still belly? What would his hand do? What would his body do? What would he do?
One interesting trick is to show emotion through body action, especially nearly involuntary body action. Strong emotion shows itself in body action. The emotion that leads a man to touch a woman's dead body is a different emotion than the emotion that would make him back away. The reader will know the emotion by "seeing" the action.
He held back his despair by looking around to see if he could find clues as to who had done such a despicable thing. He was afraid he knew but hoped he was wrong.
See, you're using words instead of action to show the emotion. Try using action. The words are fine too, but if you can SHOW in action, you might not have to TELL in words. Keep in mind that you're in his head, and he's not necessarily going to think those words. Maybe he will. Just try and act it out in your own body; act the emotion, and then narrate what the emotion would make him do. You actually already have that-- his despair is shown by him looking around. Now here's how it might be in a sort of deep POV, which I don't think you are doing, but here's an example:
Clues. There had to be some clues. He looked around the body-- anywhere but at the body-- for the clue that would tell him who had done this. He already knew. But maybe he was wrong. He hoped he was wrong.
Now watch the shiniest words. "Despicable" holds the unfortunate echo of Daffy Duck's lisp, so it's probably the wrong word no matter what. But I just deleted a "terrible" from something I wrote -- "It was a terrible thing to say." What's wrong with that? (Okay, it's a cliche, and "thing" is seldom a good option. Besides those.) Words like "terrible" and "despicable" draw too much attention to themselves, when the attention should be on -- on what was said, on what was done. A murder is a despicable act-- we don't need to be told that. If what my guy just said was terrible, the reader probably noticed without having to be told. You don't want the reader to be irritated: "Yeah, yeah, I noticed."
He was fairly certain the damage to her face had been done by an optical resonator crystal laser.
Come on, come on. We're not babies. We can stand it. Show us her face. What lets him think it's been done by a whatever?
Also watch your wiggle-words. "Fairly certain" implies a calibration of certainty that we can't interpret. It's precision without meaning. How about "He thought" or "The damage looked like it had been done with..."
"Fairly" calls way too much attention to itself, and it's not even a shiny word.
And remember that he's got a body and it can move. What can he do to her face to tell him what did the damage?
With a gentle finger, he touched the scorch mark under her lower lip. That sort of damage could have been done with...
He steeled himself and spread his hand over her forehead. The gel there used to be her skin.
etc.
So try writing this more in the body of the POV character. Try showing emotion in the action. If that doesn't work, you can always go back to the words. But try it and see if you can FEEL it more, and show it more.
Alicia
Monday, June 15, 2009
Leona edit
Leona:
She heard Daniel-Jirel’s repeated no’s as he looked at Jenna’s face. She could also feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves. He rolled her partially over, holding his breath as he turned her to check for more wounds.
The body was cold; telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body. He held back his despair by looking around to see if he could find clues as to who had done such a despicable thing. He was afraid he knew but hoped he was wrong. He was fairly certain the damage to her face had been done by an optical resonator crystal laser.
Am I right to assume that the optical whatsit means this is set in the future? Heck, what do I know-- maybe that already exists. But it makes me think this is the near-future.
She heard Daniel-Jirel’s repeated no’s as he looked at Jenna’s face.
I don't know who "she" is-- presumably you identify that in the paragraph immediately above. You're right to use the pronoun. You don't want a name is this line when there are two others.
repeated no’s
This is one of those quandaries I'd write around. See, an apostrophe-s usually means a possessive, which this is not. An S with no apostrophe of course usually means a plural, which this is (more than one no). There really isn't an easy way to pluralize words like "no" or dates like the 60s, though we're going much more for the simple S these days (see, the Royal Society for the Preservation of Apostrophes is having an effect :). Trouble is, it makes "nos" almost unrecognizable as "the plural of no", and adding -es (as we sometimes but not always do after an O ending) results in "noes," which looks like a misspelling of "nose".
So rather than try to figure out what would be 1) correct, and 2) easy understandable, I'd re-cast the sentence. :) You know, also, if it's something he's saying and she's hearing, I'd prefer it in dialogue anyway. It's more visually interesting that way, and add the sharpness of authenticity where a narrative summary wouldn't. So try something like--
She heard him whisper, "No, no, no," as he looked at Jenna’s face.
She could also feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves.
"off of him" can be trimmed to "off him" and then you don't give the reader that momentary "huh?" of the two similar words next to each other.
You have "also feel" like she's been feeling before, but in the sentence before, she was hearing. So She could feel is just fine.
Whoever "she" is-- she's not giving a very interesting perspective, and I wonder why you decided to put this paragraph in her viewpoint, especially when the NEXT paragraph is in his viewpoint. What's interesting about her POV? She's kind of just narrating what's happening, and there's no reason that can't be done in his POV (so there's no shift).
Maybe she's an empath, and she can literally feel the guilt coming off him? But notice that first, you don't need to be an empath to pick up another person's guilt, and second, she has no reaction. If the guilt is rolling off him, if it's strong emotion, wouldn't she react? Maybe step back, or put her hands up to ward off the feeling?
That's the real problem-- "She" isn't really here at all. She's just a narrator, a camera recording what's going on. Where's her emotion? What does this all mean to her? Does she have some connection to these two people? Does she care what's happened? Daniel feels guilt-- what does she feel? Triumph? Horror? Jealousy?
Now you might not want to get into her emotions, but if you're going to use her just as a narrator, make her a better narrator. What's it feel like to be there? Can you subtly insert some setting detail? You might have done this in the paragraph before, but if she is narrating, she notices what as this is happening? Do Daniel's words echo in the still night? Or do they get lost in the cacophony of the traffic in the nearby street? Does he fall on his knees on the wet pavement next to the body, or squat down in the mud, or move carefully across the marble floor to her side? Does "she" see all this in the glow of the streetlamp or the glare of the sun?
You don't need all the senses engaged here, just the ones that "feel" most to her. She's the POV character, our eyes and ears on the scene, so what can she tell us that puts us right there? This might take more words, of course.
He rolled her partially over, holding his breath as he turned her to check for more wounds.
Who is "her"? Two women in the scene. He rolled Jenna? He rolled "the body"? (That will signal, of course, that Jenna is dead- no longer Jenna, but "the body", and you might not want to signal that yet.)
This line isn't in her perspective, or rather, it could be just as easily in his, in the next paragraph. Think about why you put this paragraph in "her" POV. What effect did you mean to create for the reader? If "she" can't give us a more interesting perspective, I'd say put the whole passage in Daniel's POV. He has what "she" doesn't-- a stake in the event, an emotional reaction, a specific task to perform (checking the body).
I truly don't mean that single POV is the only way to go. However, it should probably be the default because it's easier for the writer and the reader. Use another POV when it can provide something important, a new approach, an interesting perspective, a glimpse of character through her perception. You can do that here in the first paragraph-- she's got to care, if not about Jenna than about Daniel, right? So be in her. What emotion is she feeling as Daniel falls to his knees on the wet pavement (or the marble floor or whatever)? You don't have to explain it all, but KNOW it. Know what she's feeling, what her emotional filter is, and let that infuse the word choice and sentence design.
Let's say, for example, that she was the one who murdered Jenna. Well, that's interesting. So she sees Daniel drop to his knees (or whatever) and what does she feel? If she loves Daniel, if Jenna was a rival, she might initially feel triumphant that her rival is dead, and then, when she feels Daniel's pain, she might feel a sort of uncomprehending anger, and realize that even if Jenna is dead, the jealousy is not.
Or maybe she's Jenna's sister. Or maybe she's Daniel's mother. What's her role here? What's her emotion? Even if she's a sociopath, she'd feel something, even if it's the absence of feeling.
She felt nothing but mild interest as Daniel turned the body over. How intriguing, those waves of guilt coming off him. She wondered what it felt like, to feel guilt.
Just an example-- her lack of emotion is an emotional response.
The body was cold; telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
Now we're in his POV, and we know that because you have a mind-term (telling him-- that is, we know we're in his mind).
Here’s a website with all sorts of information about punctuation.
The semicolon should be a comma. Semicolons separate two independent clauses (can be a complete sentence on its own), and what you have here is one independent clause:
The body was cold
and a participial phrase, albeit a long one:
telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
Notice that the clause there is a lot shorter than the modifying participle, and that the participle modifies not a noun (body?) but the whole clause-- what told him? The coldness of the body. So you might think of simplifying the clause into a noun so the participle can become the predicate. I'm not saying that's a good idea-- I tend to like short clauses with long modifiers, just because I'm difficult, and I sometimes like that rhythm. But just try it out. Remember: One of the glories of the English language is its near-infinite variety of sentence constructions. So experiment. Here's how it would look:
The body's chill told him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
The benefit there is that the most important information isn't buried so much.
Also think about action here. Does he reach out and touch her still belly? What would his hand do? What would his body do? What would he do?
One interesting trick is to show emotion through body action, especially nearly involuntary body action. Strong emotion shows itself in body action. The emotion that leads a man to touch a woman's dead body is a different emotion than the emotion that would make him back away. The reader will know the emotion by "seeing" the action.
He held back his despair by looking around to see if he could find clues as to who had done such a despicable thing. He was afraid he knew but hoped he was wrong.
See, you're using words instead of action to show the emotion. Try using action. The words are fine too, but if you can SHOW in action, you might not have to TELL in words. Keep in mind that you're in his head, and he's not necessarily going to think those words. Maybe he will. Just try and act it out in your own body; act the emotion, and then narrate what the emotion would make him do. You actually already have that-- his despair is shown by him looking around. Now here's how it might be in a sort of deep POV, which I don't think you are doing, but here's an example:
Clues. There had to be some clues. He looked around the body-- anywhere but at the body-- for the clue that would tell him who had done this. He already knew. But maybe he was wrong. He hoped he was wrong.
Now watch the shiniest words. "Despicable" holds the unfortunate echo of Daffy Duck's lisp, so it's probably the wrong word no matter what. But I just deleted a "terrible" from something I wrote -- "It was a terrible thing to say." What's wrong with that? (Okay, it's a cliche, and "thing" is seldom a good option. Besides those.) Words like "terrible" and "despicable" draw too much attention to themselves, when the attention should be on -- on what was said, on what was done. A murder is a despicable act-- we don't need to be told that. If what my guy just said was terrible, the reader probably noticed without having to be told. You don't want the reader to be irritated: "Yeah, yeah, I noticed."
He was fairly certain the damage to her face had been done by an optical resonator crystal laser.
Come on, come on. We're not babies. We can stand it. Show us her face. What lets him think it's been done by a whatever?
Also watch your wiggle-words. "Fairly certain" implies a calibration of certainty that we can't interpret. It's precision without meaning. How about "He thought" or "The damage looked like it had been done with..."
"Fairly" calls way too much attention to itself, and it's not even a shiny word.
And remember that he's got a body and it can move. What can he do to her face to tell him what did the damage?
With a gentle finger, he touched the scorch mark under her lower lip. That sort of damage could have been done with...
He steeled himself and spread his hand over her forehead. The gel there used to be her skin.
etc.
So try writing this more in the body of the POV character. Try showing emotion in the action. If that doesn't work, you can always go back to the words. But try it and see if you can FEEL it more, and show it more.
Alicia
She heard Daniel-Jirel’s repeated no’s as he looked at Jenna’s face. She could also feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves. He rolled her partially over, holding his breath as he turned her to check for more wounds.
The body was cold; telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body. He held back his despair by looking around to see if he could find clues as to who had done such a despicable thing. He was afraid he knew but hoped he was wrong. He was fairly certain the damage to her face had been done by an optical resonator crystal laser.
Am I right to assume that the optical whatsit means this is set in the future? Heck, what do I know-- maybe that already exists. But it makes me think this is the near-future.
She heard Daniel-Jirel’s repeated no’s as he looked at Jenna’s face.
I don't know who "she" is-- presumably you identify that in the paragraph immediately above. You're right to use the pronoun. You don't want a name is this line when there are two others.
repeated no’s
This is one of those quandaries I'd write around. See, an apostrophe-s usually means a possessive, which this is not. An S with no apostrophe of course usually means a plural, which this is (more than one no). There really isn't an easy way to pluralize words like "no" or dates like the 60s, though we're going much more for the simple S these days (see, the Royal Society for the Preservation of Apostrophes is having an effect :). Trouble is, it makes "nos" almost unrecognizable as "the plural of no", and adding -es (as we sometimes but not always do after an O ending) results in "noes," which looks like a misspelling of "nose".
So rather than try to figure out what would be 1) correct, and 2) easy understandable, I'd re-cast the sentence. :) You know, also, if it's something he's saying and she's hearing, I'd prefer it in dialogue anyway. It's more visually interesting that way, and add the sharpness of authenticity where a narrative summary wouldn't. So try something like--
She heard him whisper, "No, no, no," as he looked at Jenna’s face.
She could also feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves.
"off of him" can be trimmed to "off him" and then you don't give the reader that momentary "huh?" of the two similar words next to each other.
You have "also feel" like she's been feeling before, but in the sentence before, she was hearing. So She could feel is just fine.
Whoever "she" is-- she's not giving a very interesting perspective, and I wonder why you decided to put this paragraph in her viewpoint, especially when the NEXT paragraph is in his viewpoint. What's interesting about her POV? She's kind of just narrating what's happening, and there's no reason that can't be done in his POV (so there's no shift).
Maybe she's an empath, and she can literally feel the guilt coming off him? But notice that first, you don't need to be an empath to pick up another person's guilt, and second, she has no reaction. If the guilt is rolling off him, if it's strong emotion, wouldn't she react? Maybe step back, or put her hands up to ward off the feeling?
That's the real problem-- "She" isn't really here at all. She's just a narrator, a camera recording what's going on. Where's her emotion? What does this all mean to her? Does she have some connection to these two people? Does she care what's happened? Daniel feels guilt-- what does she feel? Triumph? Horror? Jealousy?
Now you might not want to get into her emotions, but if you're going to use her just as a narrator, make her a better narrator. What's it feel like to be there? Can you subtly insert some setting detail? You might have done this in the paragraph before, but if she is narrating, she notices what as this is happening? Do Daniel's words echo in the still night? Or do they get lost in the cacophony of the traffic in the nearby street? Does he fall on his knees on the wet pavement next to the body, or squat down in the mud, or move carefully across the marble floor to her side? Does "she" see all this in the glow of the streetlamp or the glare of the sun?
You don't need all the senses engaged here, just the ones that "feel" most to her. She's the POV character, our eyes and ears on the scene, so what can she tell us that puts us right there? This might take more words, of course.
He rolled her partially over, holding his breath as he turned her to check for more wounds.
Who is "her"? Two women in the scene. He rolled Jenna? He rolled "the body"? (That will signal, of course, that Jenna is dead- no longer Jenna, but "the body", and you might not want to signal that yet.)
This line isn't in her perspective, or rather, it could be just as easily in his, in the next paragraph. Think about why you put this paragraph in "her" POV. What effect did you mean to create for the reader? If "she" can't give us a more interesting perspective, I'd say put the whole passage in Daniel's POV. He has what "she" doesn't-- a stake in the event, an emotional reaction, a specific task to perform (checking the body).
I truly don't mean that single POV is the only way to go. However, it should probably be the default because it's easier for the writer and the reader. Use another POV when it can provide something important, a new approach, an interesting perspective, a glimpse of character through her perception. You can do that here in the first paragraph-- she's got to care, if not about Jenna than about Daniel, right? So be in her. What emotion is she feeling as Daniel falls to his knees on the wet pavement (or the marble floor or whatever)? You don't have to explain it all, but KNOW it. Know what she's feeling, what her emotional filter is, and let that infuse the word choice and sentence design.
Let's say, for example, that she was the one who murdered Jenna. Well, that's interesting. So she sees Daniel drop to his knees (or whatever) and what does she feel? If she loves Daniel, if Jenna was a rival, she might initially feel triumphant that her rival is dead, and then, when she feels Daniel's pain, she might feel a sort of uncomprehending anger, and realize that even if Jenna is dead, the jealousy is not.
Or maybe she's Jenna's sister. Or maybe she's Daniel's mother. What's her role here? What's her emotion? Even if she's a sociopath, she'd feel something, even if it's the absence of feeling.
She felt nothing but mild interest as Daniel turned the body over. How intriguing, those waves of guilt coming off him. She wondered what it felt like, to feel guilt.
Just an example-- her lack of emotion is an emotional response.
The body was cold; telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
Now we're in his POV, and we know that because you have a mind-term (telling him-- that is, we know we're in his mind).
Here’s a website with all sorts of information about punctuation.
The semicolon should be a comma. Semicolons separate two independent clauses (can be a complete sentence on its own), and what you have here is one independent clause:
The body was cold
and a participial phrase, albeit a long one:
telling him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
Notice that the clause there is a lot shorter than the modifying participle, and that the participle modifies not a noun (body?) but the whole clause-- what told him? The coldness of the body. So you might think of simplifying the clause into a noun so the participle can become the predicate. I'm not saying that's a good idea-- I tend to like short clauses with long modifiers, just because I'm difficult, and I sometimes like that rhythm. But just try it out. Remember: One of the glories of the English language is its near-infinite variety of sentence constructions. So experiment. Here's how it would look:
The body's chill told him there was no chance to save the baby that rounded Jenna’s body.
The benefit there is that the most important information isn't buried so much.
Also think about action here. Does he reach out and touch her still belly? What would his hand do? What would his body do? What would he do?
One interesting trick is to show emotion through body action, especially nearly involuntary body action. Strong emotion shows itself in body action. The emotion that leads a man to touch a woman's dead body is a different emotion than the emotion that would make him back away. The reader will know the emotion by "seeing" the action.
He held back his despair by looking around to see if he could find clues as to who had done such a despicable thing. He was afraid he knew but hoped he was wrong.
See, you're using words instead of action to show the emotion. Try using action. The words are fine too, but if you can SHOW in action, you might not have to TELL in words. Keep in mind that you're in his head, and he's not necessarily going to think those words. Maybe he will. Just try and act it out in your own body; act the emotion, and then narrate what the emotion would make him do. You actually already have that-- his despair is shown by him looking around. Now here's how it might be in a sort of deep POV, which I don't think you are doing, but here's an example:
Clues. There had to be some clues. He looked around the body-- anywhere but at the body-- for the clue that would tell him who had done this. He already knew. But maybe he was wrong. He hoped he was wrong.
Now watch the shiniest words. "Despicable" holds the unfortunate echo of Daffy Duck's lisp, so it's probably the wrong word no matter what. But I just deleted a "terrible" from something I wrote -- "It was a terrible thing to say." What's wrong with that? (Okay, it's a cliche, and "thing" is seldom a good option. Besides those.) Words like "terrible" and "despicable" draw too much attention to themselves, when the attention should be on -- on what was said, on what was done. A murder is a despicable act-- we don't need to be told that. If what my guy just said was terrible, the reader probably noticed without having to be told. You don't want the reader to be irritated: "Yeah, yeah, I noticed."
He was fairly certain the damage to her face had been done by an optical resonator crystal laser.
Come on, come on. We're not babies. We can stand it. Show us her face. What lets him think it's been done by a whatever?
Also watch your wiggle-words. "Fairly certain" implies a calibration of certainty that we can't interpret. It's precision without meaning. How about "He thought" or "The damage looked like it had been done with..."
"Fairly" calls way too much attention to itself, and it's not even a shiny word.
And remember that he's got a body and it can move. What can he do to her face to tell him what did the damage?
With a gentle finger, he touched the scorch mark under her lower lip. That sort of damage could have been done with...
He steeled himself and spread his hand over her forehead. The gel there used to be her skin.
etc.
So try writing this more in the body of the POV character. Try showing emotion in the action. If that doesn't work, you can always go back to the words. But try it and see if you can FEEL it more, and show it more.
Alicia
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Emotional exposition
Film-going adventures... Saw Australia, which was created, conceived, cast, portrayed, written, etc., all by Aussies, and so why does it seem so utterly like a not-great but very expensive 60s-era Western? I mean, really, if it weren't for the accents and the Japanese bombers arriving at the end, I would have thought I was not in the Outback in 1941, but rather in the desert sets of outer Hollywood pretending to be 1890 Arizona. :) Every cliche we love in Westerns is right there, including a totally Eastwoodlike intro of the hero by narrowed eyes (though Hugh Jackman shows far more beefcake than Clint ever did, but then, whoa, seriously better beefcake—is that a body double, or has Wolverine been working out?) devolving into a barroom brawl that spills out into the unpaved street. (Now to be fair, some of these scenes are fun, and there's a beautiful child in a major role, and Bryan Brown! Back again! He was the most fun actor in Thorn Birds, pace all Richard Chamberlain fans. And so cool here! But it was in a Lee Marvin role—just can't get away from the Western influences. :)
Oh, yeah, the "noble savage" in this film is Aboriginal, not Native American, but he still imparts the nobly (not savage) wise Big Emotional Revelation to the clueless (but very buff) hero. What's the revelation? Oh, I forget. It was something about how Hugh was a coward, because he'd been hurt before and was now afraid to love. I think we've heard that before. In fact, we probably SAID that before. The Aboriginal friend pronounces this wisdom in a nobly pontifical way, and Hugh immediately accepts the wisdom and runs off back to his true love (abandoning, apparently, the wise best friend).
This "emotional exposition" scene shows a lack of confidence in the story! And this is something to watch out for in our own books. If we've done our job setting up and developing the character journey, and if we've created scenes that show the emotion, no one should ever have to state out loud the emotional revelation. The character should figure it out for himself because of the events of the story, and especially the event right before realization. (Realization... not revelation, see!) If you're near the end of the book, and you have so little confidence in your emotional arc and character journey and character that you think you need to bring in someone else to lecture out the big truth, then instead of writing that scene, you should be revising your macro-structure. Something's gone wrong in the big story elements, and it can't be fixed by a lecture, however wise. (Australia didn't need this, btw. All it needed was some catalytic event to make Hugh choose to go back to Nicole and the adorable child. That's why I said that it shows a lack of confidence.)
In fact, I tell romance writers—if in the last scene, the romantic couple have to SAY "I love you," you've failed. The reader should know this from how they've changed, how they've grown, and how they've sacrificed for each other. (The characters of course can speak their love – people do, after all—but I'd say first write the scene without those words, as if those words aren't in the language, as if love can only be shown and described without love words. THEN you'll have a great emotionally resonant resolution scene, and you can put in the Three Little Words afterwards. :)
So... no emotional exposition lectures, okay? Make your story do the work. And then if you want the words spoken out, well... try something more fun than a Noble Oppressed Minority wiseguy intoning the wisdom. For example:
1) Put the revelation in the mouth of a discredited character. Hey, if it's the truth, it's the truth, right? Play with that by using the least credible character as the transmitter of wisdom. (I'm envisioning Steve Buschemi or Rob Schneider here.) It will be unexpected, and also force the main character to evaluate the merits of the revelation rather than just to accept Received Wisdom from a beloved and all-knowing thus perfectly credible character.
2) Try a character who is saying this not from some benevolent motive but to further her own agenda. Again, this will add a layer of uncertainty and conflict, making the protagonist have to work at it. Think of Ilsa in Casablanca: "You're a coward, Rick!" She's trying to get the letters of transit from him, not further his emotional journey. Her own motive is suspect—and both of them know it.
3) Something else the World's Greatest Script (Casablanca, I mean) does right is that Ilsa says this but immediately takes it back. This accomplishes a lot—it gets the Revelation spoken, it shows that Ilsa is scared of her own insight, it shows that she's not so stupid that she continues alienating the guy with the letters of transit, and most importantly, it forces Rick to act not with anger but with compassion... where if what she said stood, he'd be defensive and unmoving. Oh, it also shows something about her character, that she really does still love him.
But see, all of the above are making the Revelation not a resolution but a conflict. Should I believe Rob Schneider? Is Ilsa just trying to shame me into giving her what she wants? Do I love her more than my pride? Can I risk loving her especially now I know how far she'll go to protect her husband? All these will lead not to a static scene where something is imparted from on high, but an active scene where the character has to do more than accept the obvious—he has to create his own realization, take his own next step on the journey.
You know, it always comes down to Show, Don't Tell, doesn't it?
That is, if you've got a message to impart, write a bumper sticker. If you're going to create a story, make something happen and cause something else to happen, and let your characters' changes play out in the scenes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
