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Monthly Archives: March 2009
Monthly Archives: March 2009
I’m writing a scene with high tension. A character has just been forced to choose between the life of her grandchild or her child. In her anger, at the world, at herself, she lashes out at an ally. How do I write this scene without slipping into melodrama?
It’s espeically difficult because the ally is a talking bear.
Any advice? Tips? Tricks?
The lovely Lady Glamis has once again inspired today’s blog post.
Appropriately, this entire post is a flashback to something I wrote in the OWW discussion group a while ago. There we were discussing narrative tension.
One device which classically saps narrative tension out of a chapter is to begin with the happy end and then flash back. I think this is why so many people advise against flashbacks in a story.
Lord Theoddues Kelvin wiped his forehead. Zounds, that was close! He almost hadn’t made it safely back to London.
When Dr. Devil had left him stranded in the lava pit, surrounded by hungry cyborg dinosaurs, he’d had to think quickly. First, he’d grabbed a nearby rock and thrown it at the control panel on top of the T-Rex’s head. But the rock wasn’t strong enough to break the plastic casing around the control mechanism. He leaped and rolled out of the way just as the tremendous jaws snapped at the spot where he had just stood…
No matter how exiting the scene in the flash back, it’s boring because the writer just told you he’ll make it back out alive. Plus, having a long scene in the past perfect tense is really annoying.
Not all flashbacks have to kill tension, however. Flashbacks can increase tension, if done right. Here’s an example from my trendy steampunk romance:
Lord Theoddues Kelvin knew the moment he kissed the hand of the
Incomparable he had lost his heart. After a lifetime as a bachelor
explorer, he had finally found the Angel to lure him home to a
comfortable existence of brandy before the fireplace. He vowed he
would do anything to win her.“Forgive me, we haven’t been properly introduced. Miss…?”
“Viola Devil,” she smiled. “Oh, here comes Father now.”
Dr. Devil entered the room. He paused just a moment, a flash of shock
registering on his face, when he saw Theo.(Four months earlier)
Dr. Devil shoved Theo into the lava pit filled with hungry cyborg
dinosaurs… [etc, ending on a hook other than the question of Theo’s
survival, for instance, Theo discovers Dr. Devil has stolen the
Medallion of Time.](Present time)
“I believe we’ve met,” Theo said with a tight smile.
“Why, how marvelous!” Viola exclaimed. Neither man moved. They watched
each other like two panthers. Her brow furrowed. She glanced between
the two men, sensing the tension between them, but not understanding it.“Yes.” Dr. Devil fondled the engraved bronze medallion he wore around
his neck, taunting Theo with it. “Lord Kelvin and I share an interest
in Paleontology.”
In both examples, we know ahead of time that Theo survives the dinosaur pit. In the second example, there is still tension (hopefully) because the real question isn’t whether he survived, but what is his relationship to Dr. Devil and how will this impact his relationship with Viola?
Some stories are more exciting if not told chronologically. In my sip [series in progress], just to make my life difficult, I use flashbacks in every single novel. They are not all flashbacks to the same character — in a sense, they aren’t flashbacks at all, but other strands of the story, told achronologically. They are told in the order the scenes need to be revealed, or peeled away.
For an example of this technique used to marvelous effect, see Ursula Le Guin’s The Dispossesed.
Importantly, acrhonology fits the theme of my story, as it does in The Dispossessed, so it is not something I could simply cut or rearrange. One of the story’s themes is the way the past, and the way different characters see the past, affects the present and how they see one another. So not only does the story include flashbacks, it includes flashbacks of the same scene told from a different PoV. Hopefully, this will not undermine narrative tension, but buttress it.
I enjoyed this essay on Beyond the Runis of Elechan — which is also a really cool name for a blog. (For the full article, see here.)
The objections to Romance are stronger than mine — I love a good Love Story, and will accept it for its own sake — but I agree with this:
I want to read about a much broader spectrum of humanity with a much broader spectrum of experiences and interpersonal relationships. While I have a romantic streak, I want to read about same sex partnerships, people exploring their sexuality, about belonging with a group, close friendships, family bonds, siblings, choosing one’s tribe… the whole gamut, please. Make me understand what makes people tick. Offer me alternatives.
… I value most highly the books that, on re-reading, I will discover more depth to. This admittedly places me less at the ‘adventure’ and more on the ‘literary’ end of the spectrum…
So why not just read straight literary fiction? Speculative fiction can offer a different kind of richness than a story set in the world we know. Just as we can know fictional characters with an intimacy we claim with most real people, in speculative fiction we can know other cultures in a way we are often unable to know our own.
Speculative fiction means I don’t know the cultural assumptions people operate under; I don’t know which way, figuratively speaking, they will look first before crossing the street, I don’t know which insults they will be able to forgive and how easily, which persons and what actions trigger their ‘enemy’ reflex, how easy or hard it will be for them to change their standard mode of thinking or what that mode *is.* And in the reading, I am engaging with my own preconceptions and biases, comparing my reaction to the events I read on the page and the characters to the protagonist’s; questioning, querying, I also do not know the circumstances under which they live their lives – I am literally walking in their shoes, seeing their world through different eyes – and I do not know what the technology (or magic) can and cannot do, so I am constantly discovering new things about my own world, too. (Never mind all the cool stuff that I would never have thought of that actually happened in our own world, only I wasn’t aware of it.)
The trend now, even in fantasy (particularly urban fantasy / paranormal romance) is toward shorter books than the doorstops of yore. Unfortunately, a book which has both character depth and complex world building requires a certain expanse.
Also, plots which do these things – that have reversals and characters making bad choices and suffering the consequences and bouncing back from them and learning – are not ultra-short plots, which is one reason why I object to 90K books – not that you cannot write a great story in 90K, but my opinion is that a short novel (65-90K) is a different beast from the kind of novel I like to read and write, which hovers around 120K, or rather, in the 100-140K range. (And some stories are complex and interwoven enough to need more. This does not mean that they are bloated. More on bloateware in another post.)
Amen. The trend toward slender volumes has given my wip bulimia.
With all of this, I concur. Where I disagree is that this writer does not want to see,”The underlying myth is that one person – if he is brave enough and true to himself etc – can change the world, can make things right, or make things better, that there’s a noticable difference of the world before him and after him…”
This is, of course, the heart of a fairy tale. True, every now and then, I think, “Wouldn’t it be cool to see a story about a baker and a blacksmith who just remained so throughout the story and never turned out to be a king or wizard in disguise at all?” But every time I read such a book — there are a few — I find it profoundly dissatisfying after all. It doesn’t capture the fairy tale. I think literary fiction, by the way, when it works, does the inverse, and makes an absolutely ordinary story as significant as the Odyssey or the Fall from the Garden. After all, why can’t an ordinary person, if he is brave enough and true to himself, change the world, make things right and make things better?
The criticisms of the typical Save The World plot are perfectly valid. It is too easy for drama to become dullness. If the only choice is save the world or not, obviously the hero will save the world, and does any reader ever doubt the hero will succeed? The real questions are always deeper.
What is the real name of your real enemy? (The Wizard of Earthsea) What is the price of saving the world? (The Lord of the Rings) What does it even mean to save the world? (Heroes)
Earlier this month, Amoloki asked if we ejoy
I think I do write from the joy of writing. At any rate, I do experience joy while writing. Not always. At times, I hate my book, I growl at my story, I loathe what I’ve written and despair of it. But other times, I’m so excited by a scene, I jump up out of my chair and, literally, dance for joy.
This is the main reason I must write locked alone in my room. I look like an utter idiot.
http://amloki.blogspot.com/2009/03/writing-on-happiness-in-writing.html
Last fall I applied to a prestigious graduate academic program. I had a meeting with a professor in my field (history) and we had a wonderful discussion. I admire her work, and she seemed genuinely enthusiastic about what I wanted to study.
Early in the new year, I heard, albeit informally, that I had been accepted to the program.
Yesterday, a form rejection arrived.
As a writer, I’m used to form letter rejections, and, if it hadn’t been for the rumor that I had been accepted, I would have soldiered on through this rejection too. But staring down at those words, “We know this must be disappointing, but we must turn away many applicants…” I felt a fool. Bitch-slapped by life.
I will never, ever be able to go to graduate school now, I whined inside my head. I will never be able to face my former professors to ask for recommendations a second time. I had only applied to one program. Idiot.
Fortunately, I had tried hard not to boast about my acceptance, but I had shared my joy with my family. (“Oh, good, finally you’re going to stop wasting your time writing!”) And even my writer’s group. (“If you waste your time on that, you’ll have no time to write!”)
My husband, ever sensible, told me to stop moping about the house, agonizing over the letter, and to just write and ask them if it was a mistake. That’s crazy, I thought, You can’t write to either a school or an agent who’s rejected you and ask, “Hey, are you sure about that?”
Of course, this was a little different because I had been told a contradictory message before. I emailed.
The rejection letter was a mistake. My name had been accidently slipped in with the long list of those to be sent form rejections.
Now, if only agent rejections would turn out to be mistakes too. 🙂