writing tips

Don’t Make Readers Take Your Word for It

Has this ever happened to you? You’re reading a book, there are a lot of good things going for it, you’re even enjoying some things … but you’re just not feeling it. You’re not even sure what “it” is. You just know you’re not feeling what you’re supposed to.

More specifically, you’re not believing what the characters feel. Something about the story as a whole isn’t authentic.

That’s the best word I can think of for it. Authenticity. It’s quite possibly one of the most difficult things to establish in our writing.

Or maybe it just is for me.

The thing is, it’s a characteristic of the piece as a whole, with a mix of different variables going into it. You can’t deconstruct it completely any more than you can break a baked cake down to its constituent ingredients.

We have to try, though. We can’t just learn from CPs and beta-readers that the gut-feeling authenticity isn’t there and throw up our hands. “Oh, well! So much for that story. Guess I’ll try another one.” We have to think about what might be factoring into it.

So I’ve pondered, and here are the first three that occurred to me.

1. Show, don’t tell. I know! How dare I trot that tired thing out? But think about it. “Telling” is, at its root, asking the reader to take your word for it that your character is angry or heartbroken or whatever. You can’t show everything (even trying would be a pain), but try to show enough.
2. Motivate actions (and reactions). If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you might remember my little theory about Front-End/Back-End Motivation. (If not, may I shamelessly suggest you read that and see what you think?) Lack of authenticity may stem from readers not buying into your characters’ choices.
3. Voice, voice, voice. If the voice is (or becomes) jarring, stilted, or otherwise not right, it knocks the reader out of the story. It becomes just words on a page, and the characters lose their realness.

Okay, that’s what I’ve got, but I’m sure there are other things that contribute to the problem. Any ideas?

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You Gotta Represent

If you’re like me, you probably didn’t learn much about data and statistics when you were in school. There were bits and pieces sprinkled throughout my math textbooks, usually at the end of a chapter, and usually sections that teachers deemed skippable.

Not so anymore. Since just before my teaching career began, data and statistics have been getting a lot more attention in math curricula. One of the last courses I took for my bachelors degree was a stats class where I learned about box-and-whisker plots for the first time. When I started my internship a few months later, I discovered kids were learning about those plots in Pre-Algebra.

It makes sense when you think about it. We have data flying at us every day in the form of survey results, charts, and infographics. It’s important to be able to interpret all that information with a critical eye.

Something getting particular emphasis is the idea of sampling methods and using a representative sample. Say you’re doing a survey on career goals among the student body at your school. You’re not just going to ask the kids in the advanced art class and call it good. Likewise, if you want to know the average height of teenagers, you’re not just going to measure the basketball team.

I got to thinking about this in reference to writing. Specifically, getting critique and feedback. It kind of follows the examples above, plus the reverse. You want to be a little bit narrow (if you’re looking for information relating to teenagers, including grandparents in your sample doesn’t make sense), but also not too narrow.

What determines “narrowness” in this case? There are certain things any reader can point out for you—typos, grammatical errors, things that truly don’t make sense. But for the more subjective “Does this work or not?” questions, you probably don’t want to seek the opinion of someone who doesn’t read or even like your genre. If such a person comes along and gives their opinion anyway, you should see if anything’s valid, but don’t get too carried away with it.

At the same time, you don’t necessarily want all your feedback to come from people who only read exactly the kind of thing you write, who may even write very similarly to you. Like I’ve said before, my critique partners are great because even though we all write YA, their strengths and preferences vary enough from mine to push me out of my comfort zone and make me stretch.

Have you had a representative sample in your beta readers and critique partners? How did you get that perfect selection?

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Getting the Right Consistency

You’re all thinking this is another post about how Food Network rules my life, right? Wrong. That’s not the kind of consistency I’m talking about.

Every time I have a long enough break from school, I drive to visit my family over 500 miles away. That’s a lot of driving, and it’s given me a chance to develop very specific road-trip pet peeves. Two of the biggies are related to consistency, but at opposite ends of the spectrum.

The first annoyance is the driver who can’t seem to maintain speed on the highway. Not everyone has cruise control, and not everyone who has it wants to use it. That’s fine. But when they vary as much as 15 or 20 mph due to nothing other than their own distraction, I get annoyed. Especially since they always seem to go fast when I could pass them, and drag their wagons when I’m stuck behind them indefinitely.

The other problematic drivers are consistent when they shouldn’t be. They go one speed—say, 65 mph in a 70 zone. The highway cuts through a small town, so the speed reduces significantly, maybe down to 45 mph. They keep going 65. Too slow when they should go fast, too fast when they should go slow.

Okay, time for a writing parallel—why not?

Driver #1 is like a writer not maintaining consistency within the plot or characters. Yes, characters grow and change, but not out of the blue, and not just because it’s convenient for you. Don’t make your readers slam on the brakes for no reason.

Driver #2 is like a writer plowing through the ms with the same level of tension throughout. There should be peaks and valleys. Sometimes the reader needs a relative breather. Don’t blast through the scenic village at the same speed you cruise through the desert.

Now I’m off to check my ms for both varieties of consistency.

Any tips, tricks, or thoughts related to consistency … in writing, life, or anywhere else?

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Potential Pitfalls: Dead Horse Beating

I’m going to start an occasional series on potential pitfalls in fiction. Mostly things I’ve noticed (and am trying to eradicate) in my own work, or things that irk me as a reader.

First up, the over-explanation, telling readers what they already know. It can happen in a range of ways, including single line statements-of-obvious. I’m focusing more on full explanations in dialogue. It’s sort of the opposite of As-You-Know-Bob syndrome. In this case, Bob doesn’t know the following information, but the reader does.

And it’s really, really annoying to read.

There are times one character needs to explain to another what has happened, what the plan is, etc. I can only think of a few times this should happen “live” on the page.

1. When revealing information previously withheld from the reader. I have a little of this in one of my novels, where I’ve only hinted at things, until the MC reveals her secrets later on. Hopefully (if I’ve pulled it off right), this kind of explanation is rewarding to the reader, verifying their guesses or giving some surprises.
2. When the explain-ee’s reaction is important to the plot. Is this information going to prompt a major event? Divorce filing? Attempted murder? Okay, maybe something a little less extreme could work, too.
3. When the explain-ee will have new information to add. Maybe the reader already knows the MC’s half of the story, but another character may have info to fill in gaps that change the whole outlook.

(Could have sworn I had a #4 in mind. Will add if I remember it.)

An important note: #1 is often the only time you might need to play out the full conversation. Many of these are situations where tell-don’t-show is actually the best course. (I summarized everything we knew so far.)

In most other situations where it’s necessary to fill in another character, there’s one strategy I find particularly effective: the art of the skillful scene/chapter break.

Character 1: “We have a lot to talk about.”

BREAK

Character 2: “Say WHAT?” (or other appropriate reaction)

Can you think of other situations where playing out information the reader already knows may be desirable? Do you have strategies for avoiding the for-Pete’s-sake-we-already-know-this reaction from your readers?

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Two Sides to Motivation

No, this is not a post on how to get yourself to meet your NaNoWriMo word count goals.  This isn’t about “get your cursor moving” motivation at all.

This is about motivation within the story–motivating the characters as well as the plot.  First, a little background on what prompted this post.

I was reading (and generally enjoying) a pair of books from a particular series.  The first red flag came when a side character was killed and I felt nothing.  Maybe it happened too fast, maybe it was a failure to develop an emotional connection earlier … or maybe it was because it “just kinda happened.”  Moving on, the MC executed an impressive string of “just doing things” for no clear reason other than to conveniently get herself in trouble.  That’s when I really started thinking about it and the failings of motivation.

Anyone who’s tried to write a query letter has probably explored character motivation related to central conflict.  What does the MC want and what stands in his/her way?  My exploration has taken me from that macro level to the micro level of individual scenes and character actions or decisions.  I’ve concluded that there are two types of motivation.  I’m sure someone out there has more technical names for them, but this is how it’s worked out in my mind.

Front-End Motivation
This is what triggers a character’s actions.  Why does she do this?  Why does he react that way?  It stems from preceding events as well as the character’s personality and values.  The trick here is to make sure our characters act and react in realistic and consistent ways, keeping them imperfect yet still believably human.  If a character’s going to make an obviously poor choice, the reader should be able to buy into the reason.  Show the doubts or the willful rebellion, whatever it is that drives the decision.

Back-End Motivation
This is why an event/decision/development is worth including in the story.  A few random details for flavor are fine, but anything more substantial should have a reason for happening.  It may be the resolution of an earlier mini-conflict or the catalyst for something to happen later.  In essence, it’s what keeps individual scenes connected.

Both types are necessary, and different scenes will have a different balance of front- and back-end.  I imagine few could be described as 50/50, but 5/95 (or 95/5) should be likewise rare.  What happens when the balance is weighted too far to one side–or worse, when one side of the motivation is missing?

Back-End with No Front:
This dilemma inspires the “Well, that’s convenient” reaction in readers and seems to be at the root of my instigating experience–the MC who “just does stuff.”  As authors, we know what we want to happen, so sometimes we force our characters to jump through hoops, just for the sake of making something work in the plot.

Front-End with No Back:
Scenes with this problem may come across as feeling random, tangential, or even indulgent.  I suspect it occurs more when a writer is trying to pad the word count, or perhaps when the plot isn’t yet fully formed.  The characters do things that make sense given their personalities and prior events, but it doesn’t really go anywhere.  I’d say it’s nothing to be too afraid of in a first draft if you’re a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pantser rather than a planner, but definitely something to watch out for in editing.

Neither Front Nor Back:
Sound the alarm and get thee a reality check, pronto!  Characters are reacting inconsistently and randomly, and the story is going nowhere.  At its most extreme, this isn’t a story–it’s words spewed onto a page.  Might be okay for a free-write to play with dialogue or characterization, but once you’re in story mode, these things need to be reined in … at least to a degree.


So, let your characters be human (even if they aren’t human, SF/F writers).  People rarely do anything truly random.  At the same time, be judicious in choosing which human moments to include in your story, and be mindful of why you’ve chosen them.

  

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