Wanna hang out with me?

I'm teaching a one-day seminar in Hartford, Connecticut, next month. This is a fun class that will look at structure and monomyth in a new way, with a strong focus on Propp's fairy tale theories, but we'll also talk about Campbell and my main man Aristotle. It's geared toward romance writers, but all are welcome.

Deets here.

I hope to see you there!
Theresa

Setting up the Plot

I'm reading an old "cozy" mystery, The Unexpected Mrs. Pollifax, and it's brought up some issues about getting the plot started. The basic premise is that Mrs. P is an old lady (long widowed, kids in their late 30s, so probably she's near 70), and she becomes a spy for the CIA. And there's a series of books about her spy adventures.

This is the first book, and the opening chapters set up not only the first book but the whole series. So the set up is more meticulous probably than in most cozies. And it was written in the 60s, so the plot is a bit more creaky in prep than we'd have now, with our rapid openings. However, it does something missing from a lot of submissions and manuscripts I see today. Whether in the background or foreground, many books aren't really setting up the major opening plot action.
Two kinds of set up:
1) Major character motivation.
2) Action necessity.

Let's see how this is set up in this cozy mystery:
1) Mrs. Pollifax as the book opens feels so bored and useless she's actually contemplating suicide. And it's not just a theoretical "no one would even notice if I were gone". She's actually standing on her apartment house roof moving her plants around when the thought occurs to her to just step off. That's how bored she is, how much she longs for a more meaningful existence. Her doctor, recognizing her depression, asks her if there's anything she ever wanted to do that now (kids grown) she has the freedom to do. She remembers a childhood spent preparing to be a spy, a plan cut short by society's dictate that she marry. As soon as she imagines spying for her country now, she perks up and forgets to be bored.

2) But of course, we all want to be something, and the universe doesn't have to cooperate. It's not just enough that Mrs. Pollifax decides she wants to be a spy. Somehow the necessity for this has to also be set up. So in a complicated series of events (but not implausible), she goes to the CIA and applies and is accidentally assigned to a mission.

That is:
A. She is bored and depressed (her state as the book opens).
B. She is led towards an action that scares her into a better action (going to doctor).
C. Doctor gives her the seed.
D. She remembers her youthful dream.
E. She acts on the dream (goes to CIA).
F. CIA scoffs at her (conflict/resistance).
G. She's there at the CIA waiting for scoffing CIA agent.
H. CIA senior agent needs woman courier.
I.  Mistakes Mrs. P for the courier.
J. Appoints her to mission.

That's about two scenes (first chapter). Now, as I said, this is an older book. Now we'd probably compress that into one scene to get to the inciting incident (her being assigned to the mission) quickly, so she'd probably be at the CIA when the story opens, and there's some quick fill-in back-paragraph like "She wondered what Dr. Billups would say if he knew.... But he was the one who suggested...."

And we might now try to avoid the coincidence that got the senior CIA agent to choose her for the assignment. We might make Mrs. P secretly slip into the office and pretend that she's the supposed agent, or have the young agent who likes her maneuvers to get her chosen.

But one way or another, this is what we want-- to set up the motivation for the action, and then whatever is necessary to make the plot get started plausibly.

Today, we get things started quickly. But we shouldn't skimp on set up. We should set up what we need to set up the opening of the plot: Character and action.

Commas before quotes

Usually, of course, when you hook a quote to a sentence, there's a comma in between, like:

He opened his eyes and said, "Not you again."

What do you do, however, when the quote is just a piece of the quote, and the sentence isn't a nice neat quote tag (he said)?

This is a sentence I adapted (just the details changed-- same construction and punctuation) from the newspaper we have often relied on for perfect copy editing (that one with all the news that fits, I mean, that is fit). If it weren't in The Newspaper, I'd probably just sniff and feel superior. But... but... surely the Gray Lady's copy editor can't be wrong????

Here 'tis:

She once termed this, “the ultimate trend in technology.”

 Your thoughts on that comma? I would never use it. The quote isn't the full quote, and the tag is really a substitute for whatever identifying clause came in the actual quote. The quote itself is really just the appositive (explanation) for the pronoun 'this," "this" being the object of the verb "termed".

I wouldn't use a comma there, but let's try a non-quote substitute. (Clearly, I'm still assuming if the NYTimes -- oops, told ya-- copy editor puts a comma there, it was done judiciously.)

She once called Paul the last honest man.

Hmm. No, I wouldn't put a comma there. 

Ruling from you all? And rationale?

Alicia

Not that any of us would be mean or anything.....

How to Write a Bad Review

Alicia

Today on RU

Some of you who have been around a while will have heard tales of the Great Semicolon Debate of '08. I think my wounds from that battle have healed sufficiently to talk about semicolons in fiction again. But be gentle with me. The PTSD isn't completely gone, and I'm running low on xanax and chocolate.

Theresa

Progressive Tenses

Progressive tenses cause some confusion -- and because I recently ran across an example of this confusion, I thought it would make sense to talk about it. We'll talk about the example in a moment, but first let's review what a progressive tense is.

Progressive tenses indicate an action which occurs over a span of time -- an ongoing action. The action can span the past, the present, or the future. The verb is formed with an auxiliary that indicates the time period PLUS a present participle. It's always the present participle regardless of the time of the ongoing action.

I was talking on the phone when the doorbell rang.
I am talking on the phone when the doorbell rings.
I will be talking on the phone when the doorbell rings.

The bolded pieces are the progressive conjugations. We call these progressive because they denote an action in progress (get it? progress --> progressive), and they are usually used to indicate an ongoing event at the time of another non-ongoing event. The doorbell rings once, in one moment, unlike the talking which spans a spread of time.

Here's where people sometimes get into trouble with progressive tenses during sentence-level edits.

I was talking on the phone when the doorbell rang.
I was on the phone talking when the doorbell rang.

Notice that in the second sentence, we've moved the prepositional phrase (on the phone) between the auxiliary (was) and the present participle (talking). This doesn't change the fact that this is a past progressive verb -- the verb has just been cleaved by that phrase.

In the example I was shown, a professional misidentified that participle as a gerund. (Which gave me a seizure, but that's another issue.) A gerund is a present participle used as a noun.

Talking on the phone is easier than emailing someone.

Now the participle talking is being used as the subject of the sentence. It's a gerund a/k/a a noun. Participles are slippery little buggers that can mutate from verbs to nouns to adjectives, but they don't mutate because you shift a phrase. They mutate because of how they're being used. Back to our sample sentence --

I was on the phone talking when the doorbell rang.

Cleaving the verb doesn't mean it's not a verb anymore. It's still a past progressive verb. In the example I was shown, the writer was advised to convert the "gerund" (ack ptooey) to a modifying phrase, and the resulting change would have introduced both confusion and error into the sentence. This is a perfectly serviceable sentence. No changes are needed. It's cleaner to keep the auxiliary and participle together, but it's not necessary.

The other kind of bad advice we usually see with progressive tenses focuses on that poor little auxiliary verb. Can I get an amen from everyone who's been told to cut "was" from their texts? But you can't cut it from a progressive conjugation without destroying the sentence.

I talking on the phone when the doorbell rang.
I talked on the phone when the doorbell rang.

The first sentence is clearly wrong, and the second has a different meaning because the sequencing has been changed with the verb change. So don't do that. The bad verbs to kill are not the progressive tenses, but the simple past tense conjugations of "to be," such as --

The sky was blue.

That's a boring sentence. In fiction, it's not enough to describe something's state of being. We have to relate it back to the action of the plot and the perceptions of the characters.

The blue sky made her shudder with relief. They had survived the storm.

Now the description is being tied to a character's experience in a specific moment in time. That's why you should kill the "was" verbs in your text -- to elevate the text from straight description to something more specific. But don't destroy your progressive verbs. You will still need them from time to time.

Theresa

Make it happen IN the scene

A student had a good example of an opportunity to show-not-tell.

 

Hero was going to argue with heroine, trying to convince her to take a certain action (break off their betrothal).

Heroine was going to almost be convinced, but then have to change her mind to ease her dying father's mind.

 

Now the "almost be convinced" could happen in her mind. She could think, hmm. I don't want to marry this man. He doesn't love me. I don't love him.

 

But if it happens only in her mind-- if she thinks it and we know this because we're in her POV and privy to her thoughts, we do know it... but it has no effect on the scene (or the rest of the book). It has an effect only when it's shown in the scene-- when she says it aloud, or pulls off the engagement ring, or rips up the contract, or... 

 

When it's done, however, out in the scene (by her saying it out loud), it can't be taken back. She can change her mind, but her proclamation will still have consequences, on the way the relationship develops, on how he feels about her, on how she thinks of herself.

 

The WAY she'd say it is important. For example, if she would say in a small voice, "You're right. I'd be a terrible wife," then later she might castigate herself for being such a weakling. And he's set up with the task to prove to her that in fact, she would be a GOOD wife and he'd be lucky to have her.

 

If she said, "I'd sooner die than marry you!" then-- well, she doesn't have to die, but at some point she's probably going to have to do something dramatic to avoid marrying him OR to show that (in the end) she really would rather marry him than die.

 

If she said, "I owe it to myself not to marry someone I don't love," (and of course she's going to marry him in the end) then she's going to have to fall in love with him and accept that she does love him, OR marry him for other reasons and be angry at herself for violating what she said.

 

Point is, though, if she never proclaims it outright in any form, she can change her mind without penalty or conflict. The original decision not to marry him will have no real consequences on the relationship unless he knows about it.

Make It So

 So some opportunities to "make it happen IN the scene":

 

Dialogue. Make them say it, argue it. Have the tension drive them to say intemperate things, make risky vows, whatever. What's said out loud can't be taken back. It can be apologized for, it can be expiated, it can be changed-- and all that requires ACTION. Good. :)

 

Setting. Make use of the setting to -show- something happening inside a character.  Let's say he's the strong silent type that represses his anger and doesn't speak it out. Well, he can use up the repressed energy by cutting down a tree, or building a treehouse. You're the one who decides whether the repressed anger leads him to destroy something or build something.... but anyway, it takes place in the external setting. In fact, interaction with the setting is going to "tell" a lot more than he's able to think/feel internally.

For example, I had a very controlled character who had finally worked up to asking something from the half-brother who acknowledged him as a friend but not a brother (illegitimacy, see). During this time they're discussing this, they are on a newly built pier, and Michael works off his nervousness (and irritates his brother) by "fixing" all the problems the carpenter had left (nails need to be hammered fully in, etc). That is, he was fixing mistakes left by someone else. This got him into interaction with the setting, but also echoed that long after their father's death, Michael was still trying to fix the problems Dad left.

 

Objects. What objects can you put in the scene which can be used to "show" what's going on? Objects really do have symbolic significance, and you don't have to get too obvious about it-- the reader will see the character doing something with that object and figure out what it means emotionally and practically in the scene.

Like in my scene above, John refuses what is asked, and Michael stays pretty cool, but he takes off their father's signet ring (which he has) and throws it into the ocean. Afterward, he says, "That hurt," but then walked away (meaning that the brother has to take the next step to reunite them). The object is a symbol, of course, of their bond and the father who abandoned them both.

 

Actions. Obviously all the above require character action (which is why they're especially useful!). Have the character -act out- instead of just sittin' and thinkin' or stewing silently. This can be a useful action that furthers his/her goal, like if he wants to give his daughter a birthday present (goal), building the treehouse helps achieve that. Or it could be a relatively useless action that doesn't seem to have much effect, but shows her emotion at that moment. For example, if she's feeling really agitated, she could calm herself by programming her cell phone as she should have done when she bought it.  Or she could count the change at the bottom of her purse. Whatever-- the action will show the emotion.

 

Anyway, always challenge yourself to make it (whatever IT is) happen in the scene. Remember Alicia's Maxim:

Popular fiction is the art of making the internal manifest on the external plane.

 

Emotion becomes action.

Thought becomes dialogue.

Conflict becomes scene.

 

Remember what Kate Moore said a scene was: We are somewhere. Doing something.

 

Example from a famous Dickens story:

MARLEY was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt
whatever about that. The register of his burial was
signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker,
and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and
Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he
chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a
door-nail.

Notice that there is an action there that SHOWS that Marley is dead, and also forces Scrooge into doing something-- he has to sign the register. Little tiny action, but see how it sets up something essential about Scrooge, his credibility. (There's a whole lot else set up in that paragraph-- it's a marvel of setting up-- but most important, by Scrooge committing this action, it sets up something about him and his identity: A man who is good for his word.)

 

Anyone have an example of a static passage in the scene that could use a jolt of the concrete/real/active?

 

Alicia

Keep it together

Minor sentence suggestion: When possible, keep connected words/phrases together without intervening elements. In the 19th Century, there was a bit of a fad for writing sentences that kept the reader waiting for the payoff word. That was, for some reason, considered elegant. You know:

Her ability, like so many of the useful tasks she had learned as a child, to sew a fine seam, though sadly diminished with the passage of time and her failing eyesight, remained a marketable skill.

Those are called "suspensive sentences," and in the 21st Century, they're no longer elegant. But I still see them a lot, usually, I'm sure, not the result of the search for elegance but due to a lack of reading aloud! If you'd read this sentence aloud:

The chances that the progress of their passion over the summer will lead to lasting love are slim.

 ...you'd probably hear that the meaning of the sentence gets lost by the separation of subject and verb. Many "too complicated sentences" are too complicated not because of length but because of this separation. I can distinguish the main clause by diagramming the sentence (but I can't do the cool diagonals in Blogger):
The chances| are/slim.
The progress, etc., explains the chances, but as there's yet another clause (subject/verb) in there, the modifier can lead to confusion.
Here's a simpler sentence, with all the same words:

The chances are slim that the progress of their passion over the summer will lead to lasting love.

That remarries the subject and verb while keeping the modifying clause. Now there's also a guideline that modifiers should be near the word they modify, which is probably why the original author put "that the progress..." (the relative clause) by "chances." Sometimes there are two or three imperatives for a sentence, and you have to prioritize (or rewrite the sentence entirely, which is often a better idea). Here, because "slim" is a subject adjective (it just modifies the subject-- you could say "The slim chances") and the verb is "are" (which is like an =  sign), so in a way, the relative clause can be seen to modify the entire main clause, not just the subject. (In fact, writers often create clauses -- chances are slim-- out of adjective/subject just so they can make a complete sentence-- it's a way to avoid fragments.)

Point is, sentences can be recast, rearranged, rewritten. There's nothing sacred about the first sentences that embarks from our mind onto our page. Simplification, or at least sentence awareness, will let us add on to the basic sentence without adding confusion.

This is something I frequently find myself editing in my own and others' work. In fact, that "diagramming sentence" above started out as a suspensive sentence because I started it with "Diagramming the sentence.... much in between here... can distinguish the main clause." Then I rewrote it into a passive construction (arguably worse :): The main clause can be distinguished...." Groan. Third time's a charm. I know, it's still not a stellar sentence, but it's an understandable sentence.

Let's be candid here. What are the sentence problems you most find in your edits?
Alicia

Tone in fiction

I'm thinking about tone now, because I'm teaching a Scenes class, and tone is important in scenes. But... but what IS tone? It's not voice. It's not character. It's not plot. Related to all those, surely.

I'm thinking tone is more about effect-- the mood this is meant to create in the reader, and everything that goes into creating that mood is tone.

What do you think? Examples? Ideas? How is it different from voice? Help! Is there a corollary in music?

I'm going to make a list of tones I've found in book lately. I'd say there's usually a connection to sub-genre (that is, you wouldn't have a rollicking tone in a suspense novel), but I'm not entirely sure how one-to-one that is, if there's really only one basic tone per sub-genre. Anyway, types of tone-- are these too "individual" for use in explanation? Any to add?
Inquisitive
Rollicking
Thoughtful
Ponderous
Slapstick
Wry
 Rambunctious
Slow
Quiet
 Tense
Intense
Excruciating
Suspenseful
Comedic
Intellectual
Emotional
Restrained
Dignified
Haughty
Adventurous
Risky
Spooky
Conversational
Argumentative
Cautious
Legalistic
Carefree
Joyous

As I type those, I realize that I'm trying to capture in a word the -experience- of the books I'm thinking of. That is, when I think about, say, the Charles Paris mystery I just read, it's a "wry" experience-- humorous but understated and ironic.
Alicia

Thoughts? Additions? Examples? Arguments?