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Reading While You Write

Aug 132010

Selma is conducting a poll of writers: Do you read? How often and how much? What are you reading right now? Do you read while you’re writing?

Selma says: I had a conversation with a friend of mine who teaches a creative writing course at the local university about writers and reading. She says that most of her students don’t read. They are adults who are paying fifteen thousand dollars to do a degree and they don’t read. They are too busy learning how to be writers. They are too busy writing, to read.

Something is definitely wrong with that scenario. The way I look at it is, how can you become a writer – a good writer – if you don’t read?

Here’s my response:

I used to read about 100 books a year, almost entirely fiction. The year I concentrated on writing my first real novel (i.e., second novel if you count the “training novel”) I decided that I would not read while I was writing after I found myself taking on Dickens’s style of writing while re-reading Oliver Twist. It was a very obvious example otherwise I might not have noticed. I decided that I needed to develop my own voice first before I could again combine my two joys of writing and reading. I lasted almost a year without reading fiction and it was really hard. It took a lot of discipline to not reach for a book, and I’m afraid I really don’t understand people who can exist without needing to read. And I don’t think you can be a good writer if you don’t need to read; if you’re not addicted to stories. Nowadays I can read and write at the same time without it affecting my style, but I have become lazy I think. Or perhaps just demotivated. It feels easier to pick up a book and read than it does to write these days.

Right now I’m re-reading Assassin’s Apprentice by Robin Hobb. This is the first book in a trilogy that itself is part of an eleven-book series. Now that I’ve read all eleven I wanted to start again to pick up the foreshadowing and nuances that a first time read precludes. My husband thinks I’m nuts. What about you?

House Works

May 202010

I’ve been fascinated by the character Gregory House (from the TV show House, M.D.) for a while now. Can he be called an “anti-hero”? Perhaps the term should be “anti-protagonist”? Or perhaps it is heroic, story-wise, to wrap one’s brain through medical mysteries and save the patient in the nick of time, even if it is not the patient’s life one cares about but his illness.

Whatever you want to call him, House is supposed to be anything but likeable. And yet he is a compelling and brilliant character. (Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the character is portrayed by a superb actor in Hugh Laurie.)

What is it that keeps us coming back for more of this curmudgeonly arrogant bully?

The Mystery is Elementary, Dear Wilson

While the mystery to be solved in each episode falls under the domain of the plot, it is essential that the great detection and explanation is made by House, the detective-protagonist. Audiences and readers can forgive a lot in a good detective, as long as he delivers the goods: the juicy mystery solved in the most theatrical way possible.

Is He Serious?

House says things that are meant to shock. They are unexpected coming from a medical professional who is supposed to pay lip service to a vaguely acceptable bedside manner. House always catches new patients and their families off guard; they give him the benefit of the doubt, waiting for the punchline. He disorientates them long enough to get away with his remarks before hitting them with a flash of genius.

Inspiration Strikes

On the other hand, House’s colleagues and the audience know him well enough not to be distracted by his outrageous comments, but expect, instead, the now-familiar pause in the middle of a monologue that precedes his declaration that he has solved the mystery by linking it to something bizarre and seemingly unrelated. We are dragged along in fascination as we wait for the explanation as to the connection.

Relationships

Most importantly, though, in all fiction is the relationship between characters. Readers cannot identify with a character in a relational vacuum; readers need context. The element that saves House episode after episode is the grudging respect the other characters have for him. Wilson places such a high value on House’s friendship that he is willing to accept the worst possible treatment from him; he’s had his life, his relationship, his home, and his privacy turned upside down by House. He’s tried to end the friendship numerous times yet House is the person he needs to have with him when he is at his most vulnerable. Cameron and Cuddy both went so far as to fall in love with House and tried to rescue him from himself. Cuddy lied under oath for him. Foreman, Chase, Thirteen, and Taub cannot stand to work for House, but they do anyway; they stay, they leave, they return: something draws them to him.

And then there are the “minor” characters who play a major role in showing the audience who Greg House really is and why he is worth our time. Remember “Scooter”, the med school admin officer who masqueraded as a doctor to join House’s team? Scooter mirrored House’s thought processes but with a calm, dignified demeanour: House as he might have been without the arrogance, bitterness, and addictions. Would Scooter have turned into a House had he been given authority and power like House instead of being an employee for 30 years?

Tritter, the cop out to get House, pushes House to breaking point. For the first time the audience has the chance to feel sorry for House while experiencing shock that, this time, House is not going to get away with what he usually would.

Which takes House into the hands of rehabilitation psychiatrist Dr Nolan. Nolan is more than up to the task of House-keeping. He is another character with patience and dignity who seems to know exactly what House is thinking and how to handle him. But the switch in the relationship is what makes it so compelling: it is a game as long as both are trying to out-think and out-manoeuvre the other. It’s less of a game when House begins to need Nolan. And the game is over when Nolan needs House.

Every relationship needs both participants to alternate support and vulnerability; being the “strong one” and the dependent one; the give and take. And every character needs a relationship. It is the most vital element of a good story.

It’s easy to write unlikeable characters who bore or offend your readers. It takes far more skill to write a character your readers are drawn to despite his flaws.

More on the importance of character relationships

House : Seasons 1-5
House : Season 6

Show Me Who You Are

.My Fictional Life Blog, Writing Craft 6 Responses »

May 052010

***The following contains spoilers for the Australian television movie Little Oberon.***

Here is an example from a movie (Little Oberon) of showing the audience key elements of the story instead of telling them. (“Show, don’t tell. Show, don’t tell”: something my writing teachers always drummed into my head.) It’s much easier to show in a visual medium such as film, but you can still use these concepts in a book.

In the movie, a teenager was trying to find out who her real father was. She doesn’t find out herself during the course of the movie, but the audience does if they are paying attention, because the audience is let into the secret by a few brief scenes that need to be interpreted.

In one scene quite early in the movie, the teenager orders a cup of tea at a café. She quickly spoons three heaped sugars into the cup and stirs it quite lightly, tapping the spoon on the rim of the cup. She’s not really paying attention to what she’s doing, but the scene stands out because she’s being watched by a boy who’s interested in her.

Later, near the end of the movie, a man is offered a mug of tea together with a bowl of sugar. He heaps three sugars into the mug, stirs lightly, and taps the mug with the spoon. It is so similar to the manner in which the teenager took her tea that the audience is bound to be left with an “Aha” moment. This man is her real father.

It is now that the audience realise that there were other clues – also shown – to confirm this theory. We hear this man speak with an Irish accent. When another character tells the teenager a well-known Irish saying, she is entranced. It is clearly the first time she has heard the saying, but she takes it to heart, and repeats it at the end of the film – after the duplicate tea-stirring scene.

But none of the characters in the film notice this similarity – at least not yet. The film ends leaving open the possibility that the characters might still run into each other and notice these similarities. Of course, there’s also the possibility that some audience members would not have picked this clue up – but that doesn’t matter since it’s only part of the story. It’s more important that the audience who did notice it have enjoyed the little secret twist that only they are allowed to discover by themselves. There is no audience hand-holding by having the character turn round and tell the audience what just happened: “Wait a minute. You take three sugars in your tea, just like me. Are you my father?”

It’s important to trust your readers to discover and interpret the clues you leave when you show part of your story. When you decide over and over that you must confirm the clues by telling the reader what is going on, you really show the reader that you don’t trust her to be intelligent enough to pick up what you mean. And you also show the reader that you don’t have enough faith in your own ability as a writer. Let go of some of the control of your story.

Romance for the Aged

.My Fictional Life Blog, Characterisation 2 Responses »

May 012010

I can handle small doses of horror in book form (not movies), but what I really can’t stomach is romance. Take that as a disclaimer. I avoid romance and romance blend genres, including Fantasy-Romance, as much as possible, so I haven’t read the books that contain the concept that I feel like griping about today. And I may need to insert some Sci-Fi-slash-Urban Fantasy Technobabble just to get through this post.

Here’s my Logic:Fail. Character A (let’s say this character is male*) is immortal and has lived a comparatively long time (say a few hundred years (although nobody beats Methos from Highlander at 5000 years)). Character B (female, love interest) is fifteen or sixteen. Not fifty. Not fifteen hundred. Fifteen. A teenager. Yes, like the ones hanging around at the mall. I get that the 200-year-old man is still hunky and feels like he’s young still and all that, but, seriously? I have tried to imagine the most mature, intelligent, capable, driven, and inspirational young teenage women I have known or read about in such a situation (even thinking of someone like Anne Frank or Mary Shelley); I have pondered how desperately and embarrassingly my girlfriends and I, as teenagers, tried to get the attention of boys just a little bit older than us, let alone the crushes we had on some of our much older male teachers and other role models.

Just what could a 200-year-old man possibly fall in love with in a fifteen year old girl? A being who has two centuries’ worth of experience of the world/galaxy/multiverse; of lives that have come and gone; of technologies and world-powers and wars and treaties and opinions and philosophies changing and changing. (Of mitochondria, midochloria, and FTL hyperdrive, of dilithium, gravimetric field displacement, and warp core reactors.) I’m just too cynical to see any innocence in such a “romance”. But I do understand exactly why the story is lapped up by teenagers who daydream about running away with their gorgeous English teacher. But, kids, when you get a little older and wiser and start really thinking about this concept: cue the ew.

(* There seem to be remarkably few 500-year-old women seeking romantic liaisons with a willing Adonis these days, but that’s almost another post.)

Image: Full Moon © Peter Neal, 2006.

Revise Your Novel in One Week

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Apr 152010

There is now a “lite” version of the “How to Revise Your Novel” Workshop available for only $5. This is a complete revision programme; not a teaser. It was created by an author who was offered an opportunity to submit her novel to fit an unexpected open slot in a publisher’s line-up… with the catch that the deadline for the completed manuscript was the following week. She did it: revised an entire novel in a week. She’s put together everything she learnt about revising the hard way, with the good news that you can take as much time as you need to do your own revision. If you don’t know where to start revising here is a handy guide to getting through the process.

How to Revise Your Novel Lite, 50 pages, PDF

(Note that the sign up site will push you twice to consider the full How to Revise Your Novel workshop. If you only want the $5 Lite course, just click “No thanks” each time and it will redirect you. You can always upgrade later if you want to.)

Exposition Exposed

.My Fictional Life Blog, Narrative 3 Responses »

Apr 112010

I’ve just finished reading the first book in Robin Hobb’s latest addition to her Elderling Realm universe: Dragon Keeper*. Hobb uses a lot of exposition in this book (which possibly explains the complaints by readers reviewing on Amazon that this book is “slow moving”). The pace didn’t bother me, though, and I was quite interested in studying Hobb’s technique here.

Flashbacks and Bridging Gaps

The story unfolds, unevenly, over quite some time. To bridge gaps of time when little of importance occurs Hobb jumps the story forward, and then summarises the interleading period through a musing by the viewpoint character. But, interestingly, she also uses this technique to cover important plot events by jumping ahead to when the event is over and allowing the character to mull over the day in question. I’m ambivalent about this constant retrospectivity. It requires a lot of pluperfect tense (“had had”) and, as mentioned, I think this is the cause of the slowness that many readers are battling with. But I also think it lends the story a lot of depth due to the characters’ introspection. The characters have much more time in the quiet following an event to decide how they feel about what occured and to analyse their own and others’ behaviour. Since so many of the subplots are character driven, this is important to the story.

Repetition

I was also interested to compare this book to the book I finished earlier (Inkspell*). Robin Hobb’s books always feel very intense to me and I wanted to try and figure out how she achieves this. In comparason, Funke’s books feel very light and breezy, even when the subject matter is quite dark and sad. Is it just the difference between adult and children’s authors, or is there some additional technique being put to use here? J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter* series achieved a middle ground in intensity, I think, so it doesn’t seem a quality that must be denied in children’s books.

A technique I did notice in Dragon Keeper that seemed to add intensity was layers and layers of repetition, particularly of the characters’ feelings and torments. Hobb doesn’t rely on just one example to show the reader that Alise was an emotionally abused wife or that Thymara felt unloved by her mother; she layers these themes over and over the way an artist would apply a glaze. Again, this techique is tricky; too much feels too repetitive, but hitting the right formula adds a heaviness to the character’s soul that feels like depth to the reader.

Multiple Viewpoints

Sorry to bring this up again. But one of my reasons for reading this book after Inkspell was to contrast these authors’ use of multiple points of view. Hobb keeps to one viewpoint per scene, but allows a number of these scene changes per chapter. I know it’s nit-picking, but I really prefer that the characters have a whole chapter to themselves even if the chapters are shorter. What difference does it make whether the switch comes at a double paragraph break or a chapter end? I don’t know; only that a chapter break feels more complete to me.

Hobb employs a viewpoint technique of showing a scene from one character’s viewpoint and then turning the camera around, as it were, and filming the response from the opposing character’s viewpoint. I’m not fond of this, or at least not a lot of it; it feels a bit contrived to me. Also, the danger here is that viewpoint characters don’t need to become suspicious of one another, or notice any clues in order to pass these on to the reader, because the reader is dished the dirt directly by the character doing the deed. This was another complaint logged by Amazon reader-reviewers: one of the main characters, in particular, is infuriatingly blinkered to two pieces of knowledge that she should, these readers felt, have picked up by now. I wonder how the story revelation might have been affected if the point of view (Sedric’s) that reveals these secrets were removed and only hinted at through subtle clues observed, but not understood (yet), by Alise.

This is an interesting element to ponder, and again I’m relating it back to my own WIP: Do I really need three viewpoint characters? Or would the story pack more punch if the character with the dark, dirty secret is only observed by another character, and not free to spill the beans directly to the reader?

Further reading on exposition and point of view:
Avoiding Exposition Pitfalls
Point of View

More on Robin Hobb’s books:
The Farseer Trilogy
The Liveship Traders Trilogy

*Book Depository has free world-wide shipping, making it a better option for non-US book buyers.

More on Point of View

.My Fictional Life Blog, Narrative, Point of View 2 Responses »

Mar 232010

I’m still reading Inkspell* (don’t laugh! I’m also reading Life of Pi* and Playful Parenting* and I only get a few minutes a day to gulp down a page or so), but I’m finding this a very interesting example of a multiple viewpoint book. It is addressing a lot of issues I was exploring in my planning.

The need (or not) for symmetry: trying to arrange equal “airtime” for all the viewpoint characters. This is what a planner’s heart wants to aim for, but organically it flows better if symmetry is not forced.
Using a different point of view at each chapter change (or not). In Inkspell some chapters continue with the same viewpoint character for three or four chapters, which I like as it allows a little more time to get to know some of the characters.
How long can a character be left in limbo before the reader starts to wonder what happened, or, gasp, forgets about that particular character? One character in Inkspell is badly wounded and we don’t return to this story strand for 43 pages. I found the gap a bit long; I thought one of the later check-in chapters could’ve been brought in earlier without affecting the timeline.
Character dominance. Where several characters are viewpoint characters in their respective chapters, who takes precedence for point of view when these characters meet in a chapter? A few times in Inkspell the dominance is chosen for one chapter with the following chapter told from the point of view of the other character. There is no omniscience or mixing of viewpoints.
The viewpoint character is quite clearly established within the first line or two of each chapter in most cases.

I think with just three viewpoint characters I will have a much easier time getting a little bit of that symmetry I’m after while retaining the sense of flow.

*Book Depository is a better option for non-US book buyers.

How to Revise Your Novel - Open Again

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Mar 092010

The How to Revise Your Novel online workshop is open to new students again. You may remember it opened for only a very brief window in January. This is probably a more relevant course to more advanced writers than How to Think Sideways.

Update: The How to Think Sideways Writing Career Development course has also been opened to new students. This is a comprehensive writing course suitable for beginning and intermediate writers, advanced writers who are thoroughly stuck in a rut, or those after indepth examples of queries and proposals that have sold.

Both classes can be taken in your own time and commense as soon as you’ve signed up.

Easy Does It

.My Fictional Life Blog 3 Responses »

Mar 092010

I’ve set myself a ridiculously easy daily writing goal. I’m a little ashamed to admit what it is: 100 words. Yes, I know. I’m a breastfeeding mum; give me a break.

But it’s working. I can do 100 words even on a really busy day. I can squeeze it in somehow. And I’ve thrashed that goal almost every day this week. When I finish one thought I wanted to get down and see I’ve reached 180 words it’s only 20 more to 200. Perhaps the next thought takes me to 240. Oh, another easy ten words. But now 300 is within reach.

Perhaps next week I’ll make it to 500. But that’s not a goal; it’s just five easy bursts of 100 words.

Standing Alone

.My Fictional Life Blog, Point of View, Writing Craft 4 Responses »

Mar 052010

Since I made the decision to turn my trilogy into a stand alone novel I’ve been trying to choose between the options of interweaving the three related stories or running them separately as Parts 1, 2, and 3.

My heart likes the former. It will make for a fuller, rounder story, and it will take more writing skill. My head likes the latter option. It’s easier and means all I need to do is shorten book one and tag books two and three on the end.

The other issue my head has with interweaving the three stories is that I don’t get to write swathes of the book from one point of view at a time. This is something I really love about my draft of the first third of the book; there is only one viewpoint throughout and it makes for a very personal and intense ride. I’m reluctant to lose that. But my original trilogy idea involved three characters each with his or her own book told entirely from a single viewpoint. Now the three story strands are tied together with a theme that makes them far stronger and with that comes three different viewpoints.

So, subconsciously, I went looking for examples of stories told from multiple viewpoints. First I was reminded of Robin Hobb’s Liveship Traders Trilogy, which I found rich with the layers of characters each thinking theirs was the life that was important and worth fighting for. But I also remember the frustration of having to leave a character at a crucial moment in order to ride with the next character. I felt taken against my will until I settled again into the story. But Liveship used many characters’ viewpoints; with only three I will be able to treat my readers to a number of chapters in one viewpoint at a time.

That was in the back of my mind yesterday when I picked up Inkspell* by Cornelia Funke; a much simpler book and one that has the same reader age range as my story. It was much easier to see my dilemma tackled in a book like this, and handled satisfactorily. Inkspell’s viewpoint characters have as many chapters as necessary to follow a plot strand until there is a logical segue to the next character. There is no rigidity to locking the characters into a single chapter at a time because the next chapter must switch point of view. It’s fluid, and I think that comes from the way it was written: Funke says that she free wrote this book so quickly she could barely type fast enough to keep up with the story.

Another trilogy told from alternate viewpoints is Jonathan Stroud’s Bartimaeus Trilogy*. Although there are only two viewpoint characters in the first book, and three in the second and third, the viewpoint character’s name appears in the header of every page of the chapters he or she owns so the reader always knows whose story is being told. So this is another way of presenting it. However, what I did find slightly off putting is that the author relies on this to alert the reader so that he doesn’t have to start the chapter with the viewpoint character’s name. But the header doesn’t appear on the first page of a chapter so occasionally it requires turning the page to check which character we’re on in order to imagine the scene properly. I think I would rather just use the character’s name in the first line.

So my plan of attack is to continue writing the rest of this story from whichever point of view is required, preferably several chapters per character though. Then when I have a rough first draft completed I will redo my synopsis and fit in parts of the second book (which I’d already started before deciding to consolidate), and then work out where I need to write scenes from the point of view of the second and third characters to slot into the first part. And sand and varnish.

I think it’s doable.

*Book Depository is a better option for non-US book buyers.

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