I saw the movie Wanted this weekend. While there was plenty of action, there was one small detail that kept nagging at me, and still does on Monday morning:
The main characters are given the names of people to assassinate from a loom.
Yes, a loom - like the kind of loom that makes shirts.
This fact is not necessarily the end of all credibility. As long as there is a believeable explanation for it, it will work. It's kind of cool, actually.
However, Wanted offered no such explanation. No origin for this loom, no purpose, and most of all, how the followers of said loom figured out in the first place that the loom was giving them names, and also, how they knew that these names pertained to people that needed to be assassinated.
You're not going to tell me that it was just assumed, are you?
Anyway, the purpose of this post is to demonstrate how imperative it is that everything in your story has a purpose. There should never be assumptions.
Look at purpose as something that can penetrate the smallest details of your story. Imagine your main character's bedroom (if they're lucky enough to have one). Where is their bed? Where is their mirror? What posters are on the wall? If you place these items in your narrative, there should be a reason why each is placed where it is. This doesn't need to be outlined in the novel, but you - the writer - should know. Maybe their bed is placed next to the window because they like to see the moon at night. They're a fan of Led Zeppelin, so the posters on the wall are album covers. The mirror hangs on the door so that your main character can check their appearance before leaving for the day. All of this provides credibility, it feeds your character - their wants, needs, preferences.
Don't just have things in your story because they need to be there. Those things need to exist for a reason, and it's your job to provide that reason. Remember: never assume, or presume. Provide purpose.
Plot especially can give way to the greatest holes. In a narrative, one thing needs to give way to another. One event is caused by the one before - one purpose leads to another. If your main character has a purpose - a direction - in one scene, that purpose should lead them to the next scene, and then the next. That purpose/direction can change throughout, but it needs to lead to the next event. All of this provides credibility. The second a reader does not believe what you are telling them, that's when reluctance to turn the next page will set in.
Characters need to have reasons for doing what they do (a purpose), and each event in a story needs to have reasons for happening (a purpose). See how purpose feeds through the entire narrative?
If you are questioning a character or a scene, the necessity of either will be revealed when you question their purpose. If you can't find a reason for that character or scene to exist, then they probably don't belong in your narrative. Their existence can most likely be given to another scene or another character.
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Monday, June 30, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
I'm probably going to write a post...maybe...I think...
It is a tendency among many writers to show uncertainty in their work. Look at the following examples:
1) Bob approached his car and found Susan leaning against the passenger side door, presumably waiting for him.
2) He watched her open her lunch pail, probably ready to eat her lunch.
3) The boy was barely able to hold in his laughter.
4) He kicked the ball high up in the air, which seemed to be his method of confusing the opposing team.
5) She fingered her hair-brush, possibly thinking about whether or not she should brush her hair.
In each of the above examples, I used words that make the narrator sound uncertain. You could argue that in a strict third-person POV, the narrator cannot be sure of everything, all of the time, but there are instances where it's better to pretend that they are in order to keep your sentences clean and to the point.
Let's look at example number one:
Bob approached his car and found Susan leaning against the passenger side door, presumably waiting for him.
In this sentence, the "presumably" is not only an adverb, but is also the word that makes this sentence unsure of itself. This is in Bob's POV, so it can be said that Bob might not know what Susan is doing there. Is she waiting for him? Did she mistake his car for her own?
In this instance, however, Susan's actions define her intent. The first assumption a reader will make when Bob finds Susan at his car is that she is waiting to speak with him, so it's not going to hurt the narrative if Bob doesn't show uncertainty over it. Look at the sentence with out the "presumably":
Bob approached his car and found Susan leaning against the passenger side door, waiting for him.
I would probably cut this sentence down even more by not indicating at all that Susan is waiting for him, but cutting the "presumably" helps it along tremendously. Do you see a difference? Do you still think Bob needs to presume anything?
Let's look at example number two:
Bob watched Susan open her lunch pail, probably ready to eat her lunch.
In the above sentence, "probably" is our focus. Again, Susan's actions imply her intent. What is the first thing that comes to your mind when Susan opens her lunch pail? Sure, she could have a thousand different purposes in mind when she opens her lunch pail, but - and I hate to use the word - presumably, she's going to eat her lunch.
So with that in mind, do we really need Bob to suppose that she's going to eat her lunch? Let's look at the sentence without the "probably":
Bob watched Susan open her lunch pail, ready to eat.
This sentence isn't the best of all sentences, but you're already on track to making it clean and concise by removing that seed of presumption and/or doubt.
Let's look at sentence number three:
The boy was barely able to hold in his laughter.
In my opinion, using the word "barely" keeps the boy in a state of inactivity. He's not entirely able to hold in his laughter, but he's not unable either. Above is a prime example of the difference between being direct and indirect.
Using the word "barely" gives the feeling that the writer him/herself is unsure. It creates a more active sentence if the boy is actually doing something, instead of "barely" doing something. Use every opportunity to command your own writing. For instance:
The boy couldn't hold his laughter.
Sounds better, right? You as the writer are labeling the boy's actions directly, instead of leaving him and his laughter in a vague state. It's a small thing, but makes all the difference.
Example number four:
Bob kicked the ball high up in the air, which seemed to be his method of confusing the opposing team.
Here we have "seemed to be". The narrator of this sentence - someone watching Bob play - leaves the possibility that Bob is doing something else by kicking the ball high in the air. But does there need to be that open possibility? Can't we presume that by kicking the ball high, Bob is using his skills to foil the other team? Look at the sentence without the uncertainty:
Bob kicked the ball high up in the air, his method of confusing the opposing team.
Here we have a very direct, clear sentence. Bob kicks the ball high, using his method. The reader gets a better idea of Bob this way as well, since the "seemed to be" allows for Bob to be vague. He could be doing this, but he could also being doing that. I don't know. You never want to say "I don't know" as a writer. Know what you're writing, and who is doing what.
As mentioned, in some cases the narrator of your story will be unable to know something for sure, but weigh the instances where your character can know without becoming an omniscient god; when it doesn't affect the narrative, or the reader's perception of the character and/or POV.
Let's look at the final example:
She fingered her hair-brush, possibly thinking about whether or not she should brush her hair.
That's a lot of words for someone simply touching a hair-brush, right? There's a lot of writerly doubt here with "possibly thinking", and "whether or not". Is she going to brush her hair, or isn't she? Does the reader really need to see your character in doubt over it?
Let's look at an edited version:
She fingered her hair-brush for a moment, and then brushed her hair.
I would go even further with this, and edit it to:
She brushed her hair.
You are removing all doubt on the writer's part, and the narrator's. Remember what the focus of the sentence is: the character brushing her hair. Do you need to up the word-count of your novel or story just to shed light on a character possibly, maybe thinking about doing something? If you want to express the character's constant indecision over things, it might work, but overall, you probably don't need it. Or, to practice what I preach: you don't need it.
There's no "probably" about it.
1) Bob approached his car and found Susan leaning against the passenger side door, presumably waiting for him.
2) He watched her open her lunch pail, probably ready to eat her lunch.
3) The boy was barely able to hold in his laughter.
4) He kicked the ball high up in the air, which seemed to be his method of confusing the opposing team.
5) She fingered her hair-brush, possibly thinking about whether or not she should brush her hair.
In each of the above examples, I used words that make the narrator sound uncertain. You could argue that in a strict third-person POV, the narrator cannot be sure of everything, all of the time, but there are instances where it's better to pretend that they are in order to keep your sentences clean and to the point.
Let's look at example number one:
Bob approached his car and found Susan leaning against the passenger side door, presumably waiting for him.
In this sentence, the "presumably" is not only an adverb, but is also the word that makes this sentence unsure of itself. This is in Bob's POV, so it can be said that Bob might not know what Susan is doing there. Is she waiting for him? Did she mistake his car for her own?
In this instance, however, Susan's actions define her intent. The first assumption a reader will make when Bob finds Susan at his car is that she is waiting to speak with him, so it's not going to hurt the narrative if Bob doesn't show uncertainty over it. Look at the sentence with out the "presumably":
Bob approached his car and found Susan leaning against the passenger side door, waiting for him.
I would probably cut this sentence down even more by not indicating at all that Susan is waiting for him, but cutting the "presumably" helps it along tremendously. Do you see a difference? Do you still think Bob needs to presume anything?
Let's look at example number two:
Bob watched Susan open her lunch pail, probably ready to eat her lunch.
In the above sentence, "probably" is our focus. Again, Susan's actions imply her intent. What is the first thing that comes to your mind when Susan opens her lunch pail? Sure, she could have a thousand different purposes in mind when she opens her lunch pail, but - and I hate to use the word - presumably, she's going to eat her lunch.
So with that in mind, do we really need Bob to suppose that she's going to eat her lunch? Let's look at the sentence without the "probably":
Bob watched Susan open her lunch pail, ready to eat.
This sentence isn't the best of all sentences, but you're already on track to making it clean and concise by removing that seed of presumption and/or doubt.
Let's look at sentence number three:
The boy was barely able to hold in his laughter.
In my opinion, using the word "barely" keeps the boy in a state of inactivity. He's not entirely able to hold in his laughter, but he's not unable either. Above is a prime example of the difference between being direct and indirect.
Using the word "barely" gives the feeling that the writer him/herself is unsure. It creates a more active sentence if the boy is actually doing something, instead of "barely" doing something. Use every opportunity to command your own writing. For instance:
The boy couldn't hold his laughter.
Sounds better, right? You as the writer are labeling the boy's actions directly, instead of leaving him and his laughter in a vague state. It's a small thing, but makes all the difference.
Example number four:
Bob kicked the ball high up in the air, which seemed to be his method of confusing the opposing team.
Here we have "seemed to be". The narrator of this sentence - someone watching Bob play - leaves the possibility that Bob is doing something else by kicking the ball high in the air. But does there need to be that open possibility? Can't we presume that by kicking the ball high, Bob is using his skills to foil the other team? Look at the sentence without the uncertainty:
Bob kicked the ball high up in the air, his method of confusing the opposing team.
Here we have a very direct, clear sentence. Bob kicks the ball high, using his method. The reader gets a better idea of Bob this way as well, since the "seemed to be" allows for Bob to be vague. He could be doing this, but he could also being doing that. I don't know. You never want to say "I don't know" as a writer. Know what you're writing, and who is doing what.
As mentioned, in some cases the narrator of your story will be unable to know something for sure, but weigh the instances where your character can know without becoming an omniscient god; when it doesn't affect the narrative, or the reader's perception of the character and/or POV.
Let's look at the final example:
She fingered her hair-brush, possibly thinking about whether or not she should brush her hair.
That's a lot of words for someone simply touching a hair-brush, right? There's a lot of writerly doubt here with "possibly thinking", and "whether or not". Is she going to brush her hair, or isn't she? Does the reader really need to see your character in doubt over it?
Let's look at an edited version:
She fingered her hair-brush for a moment, and then brushed her hair.
I would go even further with this, and edit it to:
She brushed her hair.
You are removing all doubt on the writer's part, and the narrator's. Remember what the focus of the sentence is: the character brushing her hair. Do you need to up the word-count of your novel or story just to shed light on a character possibly, maybe thinking about doing something? If you want to express the character's constant indecision over things, it might work, but overall, you probably don't need it. Or, to practice what I preach: you don't need it.
There's no "probably" about it.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Questions
What exactly is a story? And what makes that story compelling?
Questions.
Stories are interesting because they create questions in a reader's mind. You introduce an intriguing character, and the reader wonders about the rest of their existence.
What is going to happen to this character?
You create a dilemma for that character, which raises the question of "what will happen" to a higher level.
How are they going to solve this problem?
Your character goes on their quest (whatever it may be), and presumably trouble will follow them. They meet a love interest.
Are they going to end up together?
The villain shows his face.
How is this bad guy going to be exterminated?
The bad guy creates even more problems. The love interest is kidnapped in a scuffle!
How is the main character going to save their love interest?
The main character must finally face down the villain to save their love and the world.
Is this going to end happily?
The main character wins over the bad guy and it does end happily.
I feel sated. Is there going to be a sequel?
That's a very simplified version of a story, but should demonstrate how a narrative gives rise to a series of questions, and those questions are what keeps the reader reading. If those questions are not compelling, and do not directly address what's going on in the narrative, then you're going to lose a person's interest.
Go through your draft and pinpoint all of those story questions, such as "what's going to happen?", and "will the hero succeed?"
Are all of those questions answered?
For instance, if you read someone else's work and start wondering about why the main character is doing something (motive), or how the main character is able to do something (ability and sense), then you are straying from your key set of questions. Those questions should be answered in the narrative. If your reader ever wonders about something that is not explained, they will lose interest.
It is hard for a writer to read their own work and discover these questions, since they already know the story, but do pay attention to what others say about your work. If they are asking you questions about things that are not answered, you must find a way to answer them, or get rid of the scene where the questions arose.
If a critiquer is wondering about something that you never meant to address, that may be a clue that you are including something in the narrative that a) should not be there, or b) needs to be developed.
Answering questions is imperative to keeping a reader. If they do not feel answers coming at them in the beginning, middle, and end, or cannot see the answers heading their way, they are going to lose interest. Imagine what taking a test would be like without any problems to solve? The writer is leading their reader through that test, and the writer needs to explain all of the answers.
Questions.
Stories are interesting because they create questions in a reader's mind. You introduce an intriguing character, and the reader wonders about the rest of their existence.
What is going to happen to this character?
You create a dilemma for that character, which raises the question of "what will happen" to a higher level.
How are they going to solve this problem?
Your character goes on their quest (whatever it may be), and presumably trouble will follow them. They meet a love interest.
Are they going to end up together?
The villain shows his face.
How is this bad guy going to be exterminated?
The bad guy creates even more problems. The love interest is kidnapped in a scuffle!
How is the main character going to save their love interest?
The main character must finally face down the villain to save their love and the world.
Is this going to end happily?
The main character wins over the bad guy and it does end happily.
I feel sated. Is there going to be a sequel?
That's a very simplified version of a story, but should demonstrate how a narrative gives rise to a series of questions, and those questions are what keeps the reader reading. If those questions are not compelling, and do not directly address what's going on in the narrative, then you're going to lose a person's interest.
Go through your draft and pinpoint all of those story questions, such as "what's going to happen?", and "will the hero succeed?"
Are all of those questions answered?
For instance, if you read someone else's work and start wondering about why the main character is doing something (motive), or how the main character is able to do something (ability and sense), then you are straying from your key set of questions. Those questions should be answered in the narrative. If your reader ever wonders about something that is not explained, they will lose interest.
It is hard for a writer to read their own work and discover these questions, since they already know the story, but do pay attention to what others say about your work. If they are asking you questions about things that are not answered, you must find a way to answer them, or get rid of the scene where the questions arose.
If a critiquer is wondering about something that you never meant to address, that may be a clue that you are including something in the narrative that a) should not be there, or b) needs to be developed.
Answering questions is imperative to keeping a reader. If they do not feel answers coming at them in the beginning, middle, and end, or cannot see the answers heading their way, they are going to lose interest. Imagine what taking a test would be like without any problems to solve? The writer is leading their reader through that test, and the writer needs to explain all of the answers.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
The Fade-Out
Have you ever been talking to someone about your craft, your draft, your chapter, etc. and notice the slow fade-out as their eyes glaze over and they offer a sloppy stream of "uh-huh", "uh-huh"...
Don't take insult, folks. I've turned this on the flip-side. I don't think writers actually appreciate how hard, complex, and esoteric their craft really is. And when our partners in conversation turn into robots on us, I think it's due to the fact that they have never experienced what we have.
When I discuss writing a draft, or editing a paragraph, members of a writers' community will have an idea of what I'm dealing with - what it means to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) and find a story there, or at least, try to find a story there.
Imagine what those 'others' are hearing when we talk about writing. They don't know the effort involved in writing 400 pages of a story and then turning around and doing it all over again, and again, and again...A part of them must think we've gone mad discussing a craft that has no discernible shape or end (until we choose to give it shape and a finale) and that comes literally out of nowhere. Sure, our minds come up with it, but where did our minds get the idea?
Are we tapping into some ancient flow of creativity? Some lifeblood that all writers find running in their veins? What is it that makes us sit down and write. It's not like our minds have an extra vessel, or our hearts pump at different rates. How would one distinguish a writer from an 'other'?
These questions (like many of the sort) are far beyond the realm of human comprehension, so I'll leave them be. But just take a minute today, or at some point in the near future, to ponder just what we're doing here. We're creating, we're a part of something that many do not understand or accomplish themselves. It's a special art that we have privelege to. Feel proud that you're here: reading, learning, sharing, and writing.
Don't take insult, folks. I've turned this on the flip-side. I don't think writers actually appreciate how hard, complex, and esoteric their craft really is. And when our partners in conversation turn into robots on us, I think it's due to the fact that they have never experienced what we have.
When I discuss writing a draft, or editing a paragraph, members of a writers' community will have an idea of what I'm dealing with - what it means to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) and find a story there, or at least, try to find a story there.
Imagine what those 'others' are hearing when we talk about writing. They don't know the effort involved in writing 400 pages of a story and then turning around and doing it all over again, and again, and again...A part of them must think we've gone mad discussing a craft that has no discernible shape or end (until we choose to give it shape and a finale) and that comes literally out of nowhere. Sure, our minds come up with it, but where did our minds get the idea?
Are we tapping into some ancient flow of creativity? Some lifeblood that all writers find running in their veins? What is it that makes us sit down and write. It's not like our minds have an extra vessel, or our hearts pump at different rates. How would one distinguish a writer from an 'other'?
These questions (like many of the sort) are far beyond the realm of human comprehension, so I'll leave them be. But just take a minute today, or at some point in the near future, to ponder just what we're doing here. We're creating, we're a part of something that many do not understand or accomplish themselves. It's a special art that we have privelege to. Feel proud that you're here: reading, learning, sharing, and writing.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
A New Way
I just started a new draft of my novel two weeks ago (which was the inspiration for starting this blog, by the way) and I'm working in a fashion that I've never tried before. Every writer works differently, but for those of you who already have a first draft under your belt, you might want to try this:
Take the first draft of your manuscript (or second, or third, or whatever you have) and read only the chapter that you are about to re-write. Once you've read that part, re-write the chapter as you want it, then use the guidelines I posted earlier (How to Survive a Chapter) and edit that chapter until you're satisfied with it. Then read the next chapter in your draft, re-write it, edit, and read the next, re-write, edit, etc. Work your way through the entire manuscript.
Make sure to print out everything you do - your first draft of each chapter, the list of adverbs/adjectives, nouns/verbs, and then each successive edit, and date ALL OF THEM. This will help you keep track of when you worked on what.
So far I have two chapters, about to start my third. I'm very used to writing a draft while keeping a blind eye to imperfections and then editing later, but I'm liking the focus that this new method has brought to my writing. It keeps a very active feel around each chapter, instead of getting overwhelmed with an entire draft.
On average, I'm writing a 5-7 page chapter and cutting it down to 3 pages.
Take the first draft of your manuscript (or second, or third, or whatever you have) and read only the chapter that you are about to re-write. Once you've read that part, re-write the chapter as you want it, then use the guidelines I posted earlier (How to Survive a Chapter) and edit that chapter until you're satisfied with it. Then read the next chapter in your draft, re-write it, edit, and read the next, re-write, edit, etc. Work your way through the entire manuscript.
Make sure to print out everything you do - your first draft of each chapter, the list of adverbs/adjectives, nouns/verbs, and then each successive edit, and date ALL OF THEM. This will help you keep track of when you worked on what.
So far I have two chapters, about to start my third. I'm very used to writing a draft while keeping a blind eye to imperfections and then editing later, but I'm liking the focus that this new method has brought to my writing. It keeps a very active feel around each chapter, instead of getting overwhelmed with an entire draft.
On average, I'm writing a 5-7 page chapter and cutting it down to 3 pages.
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