Here's an article about hyperlinks as "the new punctuation mark." I'm getting interested in how the web is changing, and has already changed, prose and narrative, and hyperlinking is the most obvious web-based advance, and probably the most important one, as it makes most of the others (video, audio) possible.
I was thinking, btw, of copyright issues. I remember when a friend wanted to use a popular country song as the epigraph of her novel, and she contacted the copyright holder (not the songwriter, actually, but a company-- made me think of how Lennon and McCartney lost control of their own lyrics and music). The company told her she could use the lyrics if she paid $800 and a 1% of the sales of the book. Even if her publisher would have agreed with that last part (it wouldn't-- 1% of the sales price is like 10% of the company's eventual profits from the book), she wasn't about to pay $800 for what would actually be free advertising for the song. So she wrote her own country song, just for the book.
But think about it. Recently I wrote a blog post about synopsis, and how it shouldn't be about the plot but about the whole story. (That's what our March class is about, btw-- described on the right there.) I wanted to make a graphic distinction of the difference between plot and story, and so I linked to a site with the sheet music of Ave Maria (plot) and a Youtube video of Pavarotti singing Ave Maria. So... does a link violate copyright laws? Or is that something Youtube can worry about and I don't have to? (I don't know, but if anyone's going to sue me, I'll take the links down. :)
Our articles and blog posts are frequently posted on other sites (sometimes with, sometimes without our permission), and sometimes there's just a link to our original. Of course, we prefer the latter, as it brings people to our site (not that this means much-- not like we charge or have ads). And it would never occur to me that there was anything wrong with someone putting a link to a post of ours in their own blog or article.
But I bet I would object if someone made a book that was composed primarily of lots of links to our articles and articles written by others-- "The Best Writing Advice Evuh Book!" At least, I'd probably object if the book's compiler made money from it. I don't want someone making money from something we give away for free, after all.
No great wisdom here. But I wonder if we're going to struggle with copyright issues forever now, or if that'll be resolved by people (I hope) smarter than I am.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Settings - Your Example #2
This one comes to us courtesy of Jody Wallace. Jody's other self, Ellie Marvel, sold to Alicia a few times. I was a particular fan of her interactive erotic romance - scifi hybrid, Megan's Choice, as longtime readers of this blog might remember.
So let's take a look at what Jody can do.
"Sorry, sweetie, we're out of porterhouses." Annette, Harry's grey-haired waitress, slid a stemmed water glass onto the table in front of him and flipped her receipt book to the next page.
Out of porterhouses? How could Miss Sandie's Tea Room run out of steaks when he was the only customer who ordered them?
Harry stared at the frilly, blue-checkered menu as if another werewolf-friendly item were going to appear among the scones and scotch eggs. Miss Sandie's was his customary lunch spot, but he'd rather fire up the grill himself than settle for a fruit plate.
Which was saying a lot. Harry hadn't gotten a culinary gene, just a furry one.
"Are you sure, Annette? Did Sandie order T-bones?" He sniffed, but he couldn't detect much beyond the fresh flowers on his table and apple pie odor that saturated the dining room.
Yes, we like this. Notice that the setting is named, and then almost every other detail related to the setting is a prop. The water glass, the menu, the order book -- these are all items that reinforce the setting. Notice how Jody slips these details in as part of the action. The world is coming alive around the characters because the characters are interacting with the world. The pov character has a scene-level problem related to the setting. The elements are integrated and coherent.
For contrast, look at what would happen if we did a brief info-dump type description.
Harry sat at his usual lunch table in Miss Sandie's Tea Room. There were fresh flowers on the table, and the odor of apple pie saturated the dining room air. A frilly, blue-checkered menu was propped open at the end of the table right beside a stemmed water glass.
"Sorry, sweetie, we're out of porterhouses." etc.
A lot of the same vivid details, but the presentation is less effective because it's all static. Nothing is moving. Even where the verbs are interesting, they're immobile. Instead of a scene in which the story details are interrelated and support each other, we have a flatter version of the same.
When we talk about things like blending setting with action, this is what we mean. But it's also a good example of another principle: don't describe the setting detail until it becomes relevant to the action.
Take another look at the way the menus are used in Jody's good example and my junky rewrite. In hers, the werewolf is reading the menu and trying to solve a problem. The menu details are mentioned as he reads and thinks it through. In mine, the menu is mentioned before we reach the point where Harry has to read it. It's out of sequence.
Any questions? Any other observations?
Theresa
So let's take a look at what Jody can do.
"Sorry, sweetie, we're out of porterhouses." Annette, Harry's grey-haired waitress, slid a stemmed water glass onto the table in front of him and flipped her receipt book to the next page.
Out of porterhouses? How could Miss Sandie's Tea Room run out of steaks when he was the only customer who ordered them?
Harry stared at the frilly, blue-checkered menu as if another werewolf-friendly item were going to appear among the scones and scotch eggs. Miss Sandie's was his customary lunch spot, but he'd rather fire up the grill himself than settle for a fruit plate.
Which was saying a lot. Harry hadn't gotten a culinary gene, just a furry one.
"Are you sure, Annette? Did Sandie order T-bones?" He sniffed, but he couldn't detect much beyond the fresh flowers on his table and apple pie odor that saturated the dining room.
Yes, we like this. Notice that the setting is named, and then almost every other detail related to the setting is a prop. The water glass, the menu, the order book -- these are all items that reinforce the setting. Notice how Jody slips these details in as part of the action. The world is coming alive around the characters because the characters are interacting with the world. The pov character has a scene-level problem related to the setting. The elements are integrated and coherent.
For contrast, look at what would happen if we did a brief info-dump type description.
Harry sat at his usual lunch table in Miss Sandie's Tea Room. There were fresh flowers on the table, and the odor of apple pie saturated the dining room air. A frilly, blue-checkered menu was propped open at the end of the table right beside a stemmed water glass.
"Sorry, sweetie, we're out of porterhouses." etc.
A lot of the same vivid details, but the presentation is less effective because it's all static. Nothing is moving. Even where the verbs are interesting, they're immobile. Instead of a scene in which the story details are interrelated and support each other, we have a flatter version of the same.
When we talk about things like blending setting with action, this is what we mean. But it's also a good example of another principle: don't describe the setting detail until it becomes relevant to the action.
Take another look at the way the menus are used in Jody's good example and my junky rewrite. In hers, the werewolf is reading the menu and trying to solve a problem. The menu details are mentioned as he reads and thinks it through. In mine, the menu is mentioned before we reach the point where Harry has to read it. It's out of sequence.
Any questions? Any other observations?
Theresa
Friday, February 18, 2011
writer's resources
For a newbie workshop, I'm working on a list of helpful links and resources for writers (fiction and non-fiction).
I'm especially interested in sites with information about publishers and contracts.
But also in sites that help writers connect with other writers, especially for critiques.
And really any site you think would be helpful, especially for those just starting out or those just starting to submit.
Any ideas? Thanks! You make my life easier!
Alicia
I'm especially interested in sites with information about publishers and contracts.
But also in sites that help writers connect with other writers, especially for critiques.
And really any site you think would be helpful, especially for those just starting out or those just starting to submit.
Any ideas? Thanks! You make my life easier!
Alicia
Settings - Your Example #1
A few days ago, I offered to look at setting excerpts from your manuscripts and give some feedback. You can still send them in if you want to -- the more, the merrier. If you want to get in on the deal, send 150 words max to edittorrent at gmail dot com. I'll be going through them in the order received.
So here's the first example, from an anonymous submitter.
Franque the mathematician sat up in bed. The bobble of his nightcap bounced gently on his ample cheek. He pulled the cap from his head, twisted the bobble on its plaited threads, turned it so far, then let go, watching it unwind.
The sleepy voice of wife seven, lying beside him, asked, “You alright?”
“Yes, I'm fine. Need to sort something out. You go back to sleep.”
Franque swung his legs over the side of his bed, shuffled forward and dropped the three or so inches to the floor. For the three thousand six hundred and fiftieth time he said to himself, Must get a lower bed. He donned a fluffy white dressing gown, slipped his chubby feet into a pair of leather flip-flops and flapped his way through the dimly lit halls of his huge home, down wide sweeping stairways, along vaulted corridors, to his office.
I've bolded two types of details in this passage. The first are the props -- the dressing gown, the slippers, the hat -- and the second are the proper setting details -- the bed, the corridors, etc. Although these two categories of details read differently, and although the characters might interact with them differently, they still hold down basically the same job in the narrative. Concrete details in the story world help to bring the reader into that world. Whether it's a shoe or a speedboat, it's accomplishing that same basic task.
Here, the details are weighted toward props. The great thing about props is that they can change fairly easily, and as we know, change can create dramatic interest. If he's wearing pajamas in this scene and a track suit in the next, we can conclude something about a change as the character moves forward through time. This is minimal change, of course, but don't overlook even these micro-ways to manipulate the way the reader interprets the story. You want some mix of both props and immutable setting in each scene, in most cases.
Let's take a look at how these particular props and setting details are communicating character and story details.
--bed, nightcap, dressing gown, slippers, dimly lit hall.
These indicate the time in which the scene occurs. We're never told it's the middle of the night, but we know it from the props and the action. I'm all in favor of this kind of suggestive writing because it can lead the reader into a more engaged state. Details are presented that allow us to draw a conclusion on our own. The trick in this sort of writing is making sure the details lead the reader to the correct conclusion. Here, because there's nothing to contradict that impression and there's a wealth of facts to confirm it, we can be assured the reader will correctly conclude "dead of night" as the time.
--bobble
Are we actually talking about a tassel here? A bobble is a little lumpy bit knit into fabric. Here's an example of a bobbled hat. Here's an example of a hat with a corded tassel. If the mathematician often misnames objects or stumbles over words -- I'm thinking absent-minded professor stuff here, not so much malapropisms -- then this works to help establish his character. But it would work better if we saw him stumbling for other terms, too. This could be a hallmark of his behavior when he's trying to work out a problem. Do we see any other evidence that he might be a bit garbled when he's thinking hard? Hmm. The "three thousand etc. time" seems to work against that -- it's a funny line, but it's a little too precise if we're aiming for an impression of confusion.
--three inches or so from the floor
Yes. This. Why is this a great detail? Because it focuses on something slightly out of the ordinary. This automatically lends a bit of interest to the setting. Do you all remember in one of the setting posts when we talked about how it's better to skip the expected details and focus on things that are unusual? This is a strong example of that principle. We're not just told, there's a bed, there's a blanket, there's a pillow -- although any of those details could accurately describe a bed. Instead, we're told he has to maneuver to get out of this bed and that it's too tall. There's a nice subtextual suggestion that he's small, the bed is large, he's small in the bed as he wrestles with his problem -- almost a hint that the problem itself is too big for him. Throw in the bobble thing, and maybe this guy is more lucky than bright? Good detail. (Assuming this is the impression the author is trying to create.)
But contrast this with,
--his huge home, down wide sweeping stairways, along vaulted corridors
So, we're told it's a huge home. Okay. And then this impression is magnified with the stairs and corridors. Okay. It ties in nicely to the giant bed, but where the giant bed was unusual, the big stairs and halls are sort of expected in a huge home. Right? There's nothing wrong with these details, but they don't have quite the same impact as the big bed. As an editor, if I were working on this manuscript, I would mentally flag these details. If the halls and stairs are important in later scenes -- if, for example, there's a chase through this labyrinthine network of passages, or if our absentminded mathematician gets lost in his own home -- then setting up for it now is not a bad idea. Otherwise, different details might work better here.
I also want to point out that the details are feathered into the action very nicely. It's a good blend, and it moves at a pretty solid pace.
Is anyone else wondering why Franque can't sleep? I am. It's a good scene question, but as we're in his point of view, I almost wonder if we shouldn't be getting glimpses of the problem keeping him awake. We hear some of his other interior monologue. Why not this, too? If the paragraph starts giving us this insight, then I think this might be okay. Hard to know for sure without seeing the whole piece, and I won't make any judgment on this, but I did want to flag it for the author as something to think about during revisions.
Any questions?
Theresa
So here's the first example, from an anonymous submitter.
Franque the mathematician sat up in bed. The bobble of his nightcap bounced gently on his ample cheek. He pulled the cap from his head, twisted the bobble on its plaited threads, turned it so far, then let go, watching it unwind.
The sleepy voice of wife seven, lying beside him, asked, “You alright?”
“Yes, I'm fine. Need to sort something out. You go back to sleep.”
Franque swung his legs over the side of his bed, shuffled forward and dropped the three or so inches to the floor. For the three thousand six hundred and fiftieth time he said to himself, Must get a lower bed. He donned a fluffy white dressing gown, slipped his chubby feet into a pair of leather flip-flops and flapped his way through the dimly lit halls of his huge home, down wide sweeping stairways, along vaulted corridors, to his office.
I've bolded two types of details in this passage. The first are the props -- the dressing gown, the slippers, the hat -- and the second are the proper setting details -- the bed, the corridors, etc. Although these two categories of details read differently, and although the characters might interact with them differently, they still hold down basically the same job in the narrative. Concrete details in the story world help to bring the reader into that world. Whether it's a shoe or a speedboat, it's accomplishing that same basic task.
Here, the details are weighted toward props. The great thing about props is that they can change fairly easily, and as we know, change can create dramatic interest. If he's wearing pajamas in this scene and a track suit in the next, we can conclude something about a change as the character moves forward through time. This is minimal change, of course, but don't overlook even these micro-ways to manipulate the way the reader interprets the story. You want some mix of both props and immutable setting in each scene, in most cases.
Let's take a look at how these particular props and setting details are communicating character and story details.
--bed, nightcap, dressing gown, slippers, dimly lit hall.
These indicate the time in which the scene occurs. We're never told it's the middle of the night, but we know it from the props and the action. I'm all in favor of this kind of suggestive writing because it can lead the reader into a more engaged state. Details are presented that allow us to draw a conclusion on our own. The trick in this sort of writing is making sure the details lead the reader to the correct conclusion. Here, because there's nothing to contradict that impression and there's a wealth of facts to confirm it, we can be assured the reader will correctly conclude "dead of night" as the time.
--bobble
Are we actually talking about a tassel here? A bobble is a little lumpy bit knit into fabric. Here's an example of a bobbled hat. Here's an example of a hat with a corded tassel. If the mathematician often misnames objects or stumbles over words -- I'm thinking absent-minded professor stuff here, not so much malapropisms -- then this works to help establish his character. But it would work better if we saw him stumbling for other terms, too. This could be a hallmark of his behavior when he's trying to work out a problem. Do we see any other evidence that he might be a bit garbled when he's thinking hard? Hmm. The "three thousand etc. time" seems to work against that -- it's a funny line, but it's a little too precise if we're aiming for an impression of confusion.
--three inches or so from the floor
Yes. This. Why is this a great detail? Because it focuses on something slightly out of the ordinary. This automatically lends a bit of interest to the setting. Do you all remember in one of the setting posts when we talked about how it's better to skip the expected details and focus on things that are unusual? This is a strong example of that principle. We're not just told, there's a bed, there's a blanket, there's a pillow -- although any of those details could accurately describe a bed. Instead, we're told he has to maneuver to get out of this bed and that it's too tall. There's a nice subtextual suggestion that he's small, the bed is large, he's small in the bed as he wrestles with his problem -- almost a hint that the problem itself is too big for him. Throw in the bobble thing, and maybe this guy is more lucky than bright? Good detail. (Assuming this is the impression the author is trying to create.)
But contrast this with,
--his huge home, down wide sweeping stairways, along vaulted corridors
So, we're told it's a huge home. Okay. And then this impression is magnified with the stairs and corridors. Okay. It ties in nicely to the giant bed, but where the giant bed was unusual, the big stairs and halls are sort of expected in a huge home. Right? There's nothing wrong with these details, but they don't have quite the same impact as the big bed. As an editor, if I were working on this manuscript, I would mentally flag these details. If the halls and stairs are important in later scenes -- if, for example, there's a chase through this labyrinthine network of passages, or if our absentminded mathematician gets lost in his own home -- then setting up for it now is not a bad idea. Otherwise, different details might work better here.
I also want to point out that the details are feathered into the action very nicely. It's a good blend, and it moves at a pretty solid pace.
Is anyone else wondering why Franque can't sleep? I am. It's a good scene question, but as we're in his point of view, I almost wonder if we shouldn't be getting glimpses of the problem keeping him awake. We hear some of his other interior monologue. Why not this, too? If the paragraph starts giving us this insight, then I think this might be okay. Hard to know for sure without seeing the whole piece, and I won't make any judgment on this, but I did want to flag it for the author as something to think about during revisions.
Any questions?
Theresa
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Speaking of futurology-
I'm sure everyone knows that Borders is filing for bankruptcy and closing 1/3rd of its stores, including the beautiful one in my town's downtown. What have you heard about this? What are your thoughts? Is this something that will affect the future of the story?
Alicia
Alicia
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Future of story
I'm reading a sort of "futurology" book called Flash Foresight, which suggests that we can have foresight of future events and trends if we (among other mental actions) distinguish between "hard trends" and "soft trends."
A hard trend is one that is going to happen, while a soft trend might seem to be inevitable but isn't.
For example, the baby boom generation is going to age. Hard trend.
There will be greater employment soon as baby boomers start to retire. Soft trend. (Boomers could work till they're 80, and might have to.)
So I'm thinking of what the trends are for story. I'm not going to say "novels" or "books" or "publishing," because I don't know that those are really eternal. But I think "story" is eternal-- we've probably always had it, and always will.
What's a hard trend that might affect the future of story? The Flash Foresight author identifies "globalization of literacy," that more and more people will become literate across the globe.
What's a soft trend, something that has been true in the past but might not continue to be? Maybe that NYC will be the center of publishing, or that "books" will continue to be the way story is transmitted. I wouldn't bet a lot on either of those at this point.
So put on your pointy cap and let's speculate about the future. What are other "hard trends" that will affect story? And what can we learn from this that might influence us as writers?
One question I have is whether English will continue to be the dominant language for global communication. Of course, other languages are spoken as first languages in greater quantity (Mandarin), but when it comes to second language, will English continue to dominate? If so, does that give English-writers an advantage?
Does the global communication of the Internet mean greater literacy in English?
Will people from other cultures still want to experience the myths and stories of their culture even as the Internet leads them out of the culture? I ask because I wonder if we writers would benefit from studying the stories of non-Western cultures, expanding our cultural stew.
Should writers go beyond their own borders for publication? With the Internet, of course, there really are no borders. But what if you want a book-book, in print? Should you consider publishers that are in other countries? Is that worth trying?
Have we finally (finally... boy, am I impatient... it hasn't actually been more than a decade!) gotten the "e-reader" app that will open up the new world to us as writers? The instant transmission of books, the lack of shipping requirements, the un-cabling of written story from paper.... Does this open up the market beyond where the post office can cheaply reach?
What about other forms of entertainment? After all, video can be transmitted almost as quickly as prose these days. Should we writers think of ourselves as competing with film and TV, or are those just providing another type of story?
Okay, how about "reality?" You know, that thing that happens outside of story. :) Facebook, Twitter, reality TV, news, those are all in contrast to fiction/story. Can we co-opt that, I mean, can we learn from that? Should we, or is fiction a necessary and eternal alternative to reality?
Just some thoughts as I watch the Big Thaw outside-- the first time I've seen the driveway in 9 weeks! And that reminds me that everything changes. Even the snow and ice, which seemed so permanent, will eventually change. I hope. Tired of winter here!
Alicia
A hard trend is one that is going to happen, while a soft trend might seem to be inevitable but isn't.
For example, the baby boom generation is going to age. Hard trend.
There will be greater employment soon as baby boomers start to retire. Soft trend. (Boomers could work till they're 80, and might have to.)
So I'm thinking of what the trends are for story. I'm not going to say "novels" or "books" or "publishing," because I don't know that those are really eternal. But I think "story" is eternal-- we've probably always had it, and always will.
What's a hard trend that might affect the future of story? The Flash Foresight author identifies "globalization of literacy," that more and more people will become literate across the globe.
What's a soft trend, something that has been true in the past but might not continue to be? Maybe that NYC will be the center of publishing, or that "books" will continue to be the way story is transmitted. I wouldn't bet a lot on either of those at this point.
So put on your pointy cap and let's speculate about the future. What are other "hard trends" that will affect story? And what can we learn from this that might influence us as writers?
One question I have is whether English will continue to be the dominant language for global communication. Of course, other languages are spoken as first languages in greater quantity (Mandarin), but when it comes to second language, will English continue to dominate? If so, does that give English-writers an advantage?
Does the global communication of the Internet mean greater literacy in English?
Will people from other cultures still want to experience the myths and stories of their culture even as the Internet leads them out of the culture? I ask because I wonder if we writers would benefit from studying the stories of non-Western cultures, expanding our cultural stew.
Should writers go beyond their own borders for publication? With the Internet, of course, there really are no borders. But what if you want a book-book, in print? Should you consider publishers that are in other countries? Is that worth trying?
Have we finally (finally... boy, am I impatient... it hasn't actually been more than a decade!) gotten the "e-reader" app that will open up the new world to us as writers? The instant transmission of books, the lack of shipping requirements, the un-cabling of written story from paper.... Does this open up the market beyond where the post office can cheaply reach?
What about other forms of entertainment? After all, video can be transmitted almost as quickly as prose these days. Should we writers think of ourselves as competing with film and TV, or are those just providing another type of story?
Okay, how about "reality?" You know, that thing that happens outside of story. :) Facebook, Twitter, reality TV, news, those are all in contrast to fiction/story. Can we co-opt that, I mean, can we learn from that? Should we, or is fiction a necessary and eternal alternative to reality?
Just some thoughts as I watch the Big Thaw outside-- the first time I've seen the driveway in 9 weeks! And that reminds me that everything changes. Even the snow and ice, which seemed so permanent, will eventually change. I hope. Tired of winter here!
Alicia
Help with Western weather
My son will be driving west (Chicago to LA) next week, and I'm trying to help him plan a route. Through Denver is the shortest and easiest, but what's the weather like on the way (I -80 and I70)? Should he go the longer southern route?
Anyone around who can give weather recommendations on the trip over the Rockies? Everything's melting around here, but how about in the West?
Alicia
Anyone around who can give weather recommendations on the trip over the Rockies? Everything's melting around here, but how about in the West?
Alicia
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Sharing a Link
This is worth reading, and not just for the humor. "The Writer's Survival Guide" by Chuck Wendig at Terrible Minds.
T
T
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
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