Putting The Past in Context

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Putting The Past in Context

Say you’re writing a historical drama where two noblemen of Henry VIII’s court. They engage in all kinds of nefarious plots to prevent the other from being appointed the Gentleman of the Stool. They scheme, poison, scandal-monger, and lie.

You may write a very convincing and even riveting tale of intrigue but it’s not going to catch the reader if he is puzzled as to why the two men want the position. Especially as the main duty seems to be wiping the King’s bottom on the toilet.

You need to contextualize the rivalry. Show the Gentleman of the Stool as the only courtier assured individual and private access to the King. To ask for favors, or turn the King against a rival. Then the rest of the story falls into place.

You may also need to contextualize the past even with more recent events. For example, the novel The Reader by Bernhard Schlink was first published in 1995 in German. A pivot point of the plot, set in World War II, is that the heroine goes to great lengths to conceal that she is illiterate. A literate 1995 audience may not understand why the shame was so great. The reader needs to understand how or why or if the context affects how open the secret is.

Putting context into the past

So, how do you do this?

Not, of course, by hitting the reader over the head by using a long passage of tell to provide the context.

But you might have one of the noblemen musing what he could do if he got the preferment he desired. Or show a boy being made fun of because he can’t read.

So take a look at the story you’re writing. On the one hand, being specific and tangible is a strength of any tale. On the other, it can be so unique that it is puzzling to the reader who has not been in that situation. Identify any things which might impede understanding of the story.

But also remember that readers can often pick up the meaning or context as they go along and take some pleasure in being able to figure it out. So, don’t go crazy with this context business. Only the really important bits.

Not just the past

Actually, contextualizing is appropriate in any situation where you think that your desired audience is not of the culture you are writing about. An LGBTQ story aimed at those outside the community may need to explain aspects of the context which might be unfamiliar to an outsider.

For example, in the translation of a Swedish (I think it was Swedish) novel, the hero says hello to a man on a ladder, painting a house. The painter almost loses his balance in surprise. The author kindly provided a footnote to explain that speaking to strangers was unusual in Sweden (Sweden?).

So, don’t go crazy but also don’t lessen the power of your saga by forgetting to provide the appropriate context.

February 4, 2022December 20, 2021

Open Secrets

In the last post, we discussed plots with secrets which you want the reader to enjoy unravelling. In this post, I want to talk about open secrets.

What’s an open secret? The family knows Mom is slowly descending into madness but nobody talks about it. The brother in jail doesn’t exist to all intents and purposes. Secrets are not just found in families. The boss who drinks heavily in his office. The parish accounts known to be inaccurate. The office lovers who think they are keeping things clandestine.

I think these are way more fun to write about. Well, ‘fun’ may be, actually undoubtedly is, the wrong word as these secrets often spring from painful personal experiences. Their expression frequently requires bravery to reach emotional truth. But also produces the best writing.

How to convey an open secret

Open secrets are usually grounded in and influenced by their setting and the characters involved. So, if you are writing such a novel, you need to rely primarily on your sense of how to develop the story. But you might want to check the following questions just to ensure that you’ve answered them in your text.

Why is it secret?

Shame or some variant of it is often the reason for secrecy. For this or any other fundamental emotion to be credible to the reader, you need to establish why the characters are keeping silent. Even before the reader knows of a secret, she needs to see the characters act in odd but not necessarily mysterious ways. The mother gets hysterical if the father is fifteen minutes late. The assistant refuses to book any of the big boss’ appointments after lunch. The characters’ actions may be just quirky. Or even better, barely noticed by the reader. But they set the stage for their later involvement in the open secret.

Why is it nevertheless open?

There’s something big and covert but nevertheless known to a defined group of people. Some questions your story should answer:

Why do they know it and others don’t? Why can’t others know? Shame? Legal problems? Spy ring?

What are the machinations to protect the secret from outsiders? What actions or non-actions does this group take? How do these cause problems or awkwardness when interacting with outsiders?

And the machinations to protect themselves from knowing the secret? Often, and especially within families, those in the know ignore, downplay or lie about events even among themselves. The woman says she tripped. The repair to the wall is made without comment. Parents deny the event to children who witnessed it.

How does the reader know that there’s a skeleton?

Generally speaking, you want to slowly reveal that there is a secret. First stages can be sudden stops and/or starts of conversation or action which cue something is going on. Farther on, something might be said the reader knows to be untrue but nobody contradicts. Until finally, the secret is revealed.

In all of this, it’s important to keep up the mystery without confusing. If you throw out so many unanswered cues that Something is Wrong, the reader will feel lost. And eventually impatient. Give the reader enough along the way so that she feels as if she’s making some headway in understanding. Reveal the secret at a pace that fits the story but keep building tension.

Otherwise, she won’t care enough to stick with you until the secret is revealed.

January 28, 2022December 20, 2021

Keeping Secrets

I’m not talking about your personal secrets, the ones you agonize whether or not to reveal by being naked on the page. I’m talking about the more technical issue of how/when you disclose secrets as part of your plot.

Secrets are a lovely playground for writers—so many ways to misinterpret, add mystery, and/or keep the story moving forward. But not without its pitfalls for the writer.

Too many secrets

You’ve come up with a great mystery novel idea. The FBI, CIA, NSA and Department of Justice are all trying to kill a woman with an earth-shattering secret. Throw in a rogue NSA agent and your detective and you have a dog’s breakfast of underground motives and activities. It’ll be great fun throwing in red herrings and false trails. You barrel towards your surprise ending.

Okay, so this is where you want to give a thought to your reader. You know where you’re taking this. But the reader doesn’t. All he experiences is five or six shadowy characters doing enigmatic things, all of which seem unrelated. If you’re lucky, he’ll stick with you. But more likely, he’ll be confused, can’t keep the story lines straight, and will give up on the novel as a boring tangle.

Some fixes

Cut down the number of suspects. I know—strikes a blow to your heart. But think about it. Why are many villains better than one really well-written one whom the detective doesn’t recognize until almost too late?
Make each suspect/secret really intriguing. The previous suggestion may be a bridge too far. An alternative is to spend more time with each suspect so the reader has an interest in finding out what happens to the particular characters.

Too obvious

The opposite end of the spectrum is making the villain too obvious. The character that always seems to be on the scene. The nosy parker. The excessively helpful bystander. Since your reader is often smarter than you, revealing any one of them as the murderer/villain will seem flat and been-there-done-that. And your novel will end deflated rather than with a big pop.

Some fixes

Give credible reasons for being there. Presumably, your bad guy has to be present or at least connected to the events experienced by your detective. Spend some energy coming up with a credible backstory for your villain. The attending doctor, the protagonist’s kid’s teacher, the physio working out the detective’s muscle cramps.
Let the reveal be satisfying. Okay, this isn’t really a fix. It’s more how the end product will feel to your reader. You want a I-didn’t-see-that-coming-but-it-makes-sense, rather than an Oh-okay-that’s-what-happened. If you get the first reaction, you’re likely to have built a story which kept your reader involved while planting clues he won’t recognize until after he knows the solution.

A Goldilocks moment

Yes, it is a matter of the porridge being neither too hot nor cold. Give a thought to how the story will strike the reader. Keep giving the reader a reason to turn the page. The promise of a great ending doesn’t cut it. Instead, litter the path with crumbs which allow the reader the pleasure of trying to figure things out as the novel progresses.

He’ll love you for it.

January 21, 2022January 21, 2022

Every Hero needs a Dr. Watson

I had the revelation that I needed a Dr. Watson when I was writing my first novel. Which will never see the light of day but from which I nevertheless learned a lot. I realized that my heroine/detective was puzzling out the mystery almost entirely in her head. Lots of thinking, not so much action. I suppose I could have had her discuss her conundrums with her cat, but as you know, cats don’t do supportive or empathetic. And certainly not second fiddle.

Then the revelation. That’s why Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, author of the Sherlock Holmes novels, wrote in the character of Dr. Watson, faithfully following Holmes everywhere. Yes, the conceit is that Watson is recording the stories for posterity, but in fact, it is a way to allow the protagonist to work through the issues of the novel in a more dynamic way.

Not to say that talking to someone is an adequate substitute for action which moves the plot forward, but it does have the advantage of being slightly more active than inner dialogue. It also introduces the possibility of conflict or debate if/when Watson disagrees with Holmes’ analysis. Which rarely happens with the omniscient Holmes, but you get what I mean.

(Almost) every novel needs a Dr. Watson

I think most novels need a Dr. Watson. Can be a best friend, a colleague at work, even a stranger on the subway.

Look at your draft to see if you have a Watson-like character that not only can get the protagonist’s thoughts out of his head and into speech but also potentially challenge the logic, wisdom or even morality of the hero’s intentions. Or elaborate and refine his plans.

This Watson character can, in and of himself, add a dimension to the story by having a definite view which conflicts, or at least must be reconciled, with the hero’s. Action-oriented versus cautious; retiring or larger than life; pragmatic/principled; empathetic/hard-nosed. You get the picture.

You don’t need to go crazy either in the number of contrasts or extent of the difference. Otherwise, you risk falling into caricature or stereotype. But a strong secondary character can not only enhance the story but your reader’s interest in it.

When you don’t need one

Naturally, if your hero is primarily caught up in personal angst, a secondary character providing a listening ear and even objections, might not be appropriate. When the protagonist’s raison d’être is introspection and tangling himself in the weeds of his thoughts, then allowing the story to flow as intended may be the right answer.

But if you have a worry in the back of your mind that your hero is doing too much thinking and not enough action, Dr. Watson may be your ticket. The discussions don’t in and of themselves constitute action but they seem to promote it. Give it a try.

December 31, 2021January 28, 2022

Finales that Aren’t

Recently, I did a post on knowing when you’re finished your novel and I know that this post sounds like it might be a repeat but it isn’t. There is a difference between finished and finales.

There seems to be a fashion now for trilogies and other multi-book sagas. Whether this urge is driven by readers who want more or authors who have more to say, I don’t know. Personally, I shudder at the idea. If I go for broke in writing a novel, it doesn’t feel as if there is much left for a sequel. Much as I am sorry to say good-bye to my characters when I finish, I don’t usually have any urge to delve back into their lives.

But for those who feel that generational sagas are for them, one word (or more) of advice.

Finales have to be satisfying

You are nearing the end of the first volume of your trilogy and have a good idea of where the next one is going. And you want the end of the first novel on a real cliff-hanger to encourage readers to rush to read the next.

All well and good. However, it’s important to remember that the ending of the novel has to be more than an advert for the next. It needs to be a satisfying ending in and of itself.

What does satisfying mean? Relax, doesn’t have to be a happy ending, nor do all the strands need to be tied up neatly. Your main character may not even triumph. His failure might be a very satisfying ending. The right one, not the happy one.

But it does need to at least provide a resolution—perhaps not the final—but an answer to the goal your protagonist set out to achieve and has motivated him to action.

If you don’t, the end of the novel will feel as if you’ve kind of stopped in mid-sentence. It will annoy the reader who will feel, perhaps rightly, that she’s been vaguely cheated. And will not encourage the purchase of the next book of the trilogy.

The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins is a good example of getting this right. The first volume, The Hunger Games, ends (spoiler alert) with the two main characters Katniss and Peeta, deciding to die together rather than give the authoritarian regime what it wants—a clear victor to the Games. The two are both declared victors and so the novel reaches a satisfying conclusion.

However, the kernels of the next novel are sewn in that Katniss is seen as a dangerous enemy because she engineered this perceived defeat of the government. How she becomes a symbol of the resistance is depicted in the second book of the series, Catching Fire.

Here is an example of planting the seeds of the next book while effectively providing a fulfilling finish to this story.

So, make sure that the reader is happy because there is plot closure even if with a continuing story. It’s one way to up the chances that your next novel will be eagerly anticipated.