Why Now?

why

Why Now?

In a previous post, I discussed what you can do if the first draft of your novel is too short. This post covers another question you may need to ask yourself as you are strengthening the manuscript: Why now?

Obviously, your novel is set at a particular time, even if an indeterminate present, and at a particular point in your hero’s life. I suppose the exception might be a family saga which is going soup to nuts.

But generally, writers pick a period in the main character’s life to focus on. Might be middle age, might be just starting out, might be on the brink of death. Whenever it is, a good question to ask yourself is why you picked that age/state of life. Why does your hero do what he does at this moment in his life?

An example of why now?

For example, your hero (Todd) might be a downtrodden spouse who has been married for twenty years and then suddenly announces he wants a divorce. Why now?

Why didn’t he do it early in the marriage when it became clear that things weren’t going as envisioned? How come he didn’t see the signs before the wedding? Why wouldn’t he leave it until his dying day and make it his last words?

Asking yourself this question can prompt two possible lines of thought.

First, you might need to adjust or rewrite so that it makes sense to the reader why this is the right time in his life. Sure, he might have fallen in love and that would be the impetus. But isn’t there a compelling inner reason why Todd chooses this moment to allow the new love to be the dominant factor in his decision?

Second, although I know you’d have to be dragged to this option, is there a dramatically more interesting time in his life to leave the marriage than the one you have used? Is there a stronger reason to justify the act at some other point?

Why not earlier, later, or not at all?

So, let’s continue to play with the why now? issue.

What if it is earlier?

What if Todd makes the decision to leave early in the marriage? What prompts it? Could be another woman but then are you painting a picture of a man who can’t make a commitment? What about him allows him to break from the easier path of putting up and going along?

Or later?

What if he decides leave the marriage much later?  Does he struggle with abandoning what he might think of as his duty? Or does the angst come from how he has to change himself to make this move? Or does he revise his personal definition of duty?

Or not at all?

I know—this is the all-bets-off option. If he doesn’t do the central thing of the novel, it’s a whole new ball game. But if you have created a truly interesting character, might there be more scope to explore who he is in a different situation? Just asking.

Who cares?

I know that reading this may cause a certain level of discomfort, especially if you believe you have completed a first draft. But playing with the concept of why now? at very least encourages  you to make sure that what Todd is doing in the present tale is well grounded in an understanding of why he chooses to act at this moment in his life.

Playing with options may open up possibilities that hadn’t occurred to you. Might not mean a rewrite. Could just be a deepening and strengthening of your story.

Next: subplots.

Who/What is the Tale About?

tale

Who/What is the Tale About?

The tale is about?

When you’ve finished the first draft of your novel and looking to strengthen it and even lengthen it, who or what your tale is about is a good question to ask. This may seem quite simple-minded. You might think, “Well, my tale is about Minisha because she’s the main character.”

You’d be right, of course. Your novel has taken Minisha in a particular direction. She might have traveled to experience the world. She might have never left town, but longed to. Or she didn’t want to leave—just more leeway from a strict mother. Any of these and many others could be interesting paths.

Who/what the story is about shapes choices

I am a great proponent of just writing whatever comes up. Minisha meets a smarmy charmer. She almost gets run over in the street. She realizes that she can tackle the mountain after all. Whatever interests you.

But somewhere near the end of the first draft or when you are editing, you need to consider who or what the novel is really about. For example, is the story about Minisha discovering who she is on her journey (whether physical or mental) or is it about her romance with the professor she meets along the way?

Which path you choose can and should shape your thoughts on what scenes can be kept; which deleted; and which rewritten or reoriented.

The novel is about self-discovery

So, let’s say you’ve decided that the novel is primarily about Minisha’s self-discovery. Review your scenes to ask questions like:

  • The romantic scenes are appropriate still but do the number, length or even emotional impact of these scenes outweigh those of the self-discovery? If they’re very prominent, does the relationship overshadow the self-discovery?
  • How do you make the self-discovery more show than tell? This is an important way to signal your main theme. What does she DO which indicates her changes? Much of self-discovery happens in the character’s mind. But can you have her taking a physical risk or buying clothes more fashionable than she usually buys? This can show increasing self-confidence.

The story is about love

But what if the story is primarily about falling in love? You might ask similar questions:

  • Can you/do you want the self-discovery to revolve around the falling in love? E.g. she didn’t realize she could be lovable; she is getting in her own way in romance. If so, do you need to tone down the angst and revelation around her faith or career?
  • How much of the self-discovery do you need to show on stage, as it were? Slowing down enough to give a thorough picture of the internal struggle Minisha is undergoing should be compelling and hopefully, more intense than the scenes about the love interest.

Why do I have to make a choice?

Well, of course you don’t have to. It’s your novel after all. But considering the question helps to bring focus to the novel. It also helps decide what scenes you need to write in SHOW mode and what can be TELL or shorter or perhaps not needed.

Decide later or at the end

Again, ask yourself these questions when you’re near or at the end of your first draft. Examining this too early in the process will wreck the spontaneity of allowing the tale to take the path it needs to.

You do need to ask it. But only after the first draft is in the bag.

My First Draft is Too Short!

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My First Draft is Too Short!

Finishing a first draft is a milestone. I want to say the job is done but there is more to do.

Congrats! First draft done!

First off, take a minute to slow down and pat yourself on the back. No, do more than that. Treat yourself to a dinner out or that sweater you’ve been lusting after. Take the time to savor the great accomplishment. Thousands have started a novel but given up before reaching this point. Well done!

But is it a novel?

There is probably an existential answer to the question but I’m focused on a more practical issue. Is your novel between 80,000-90,000 words? That’s typically what both publishers and readers are looking for. As with any rule in writing, there are exceptions. War and Peace has 587,287; A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, 46,333.

It’s not that you can’t have a novel outside the normal boundaries but you’ll probably have a hard sell both to publishers and your eventual readers. I don’t know whether readers have trained up publishers or the other way around, but they usually expect some heft in any novel they’re committing their time to.

So, to avoid an unnecessary and uphill battle, make sure your novel is in the optimal range. And if you are newish to the game, your word total will almost always be seriously short of the target.

Bump up word count and engage readers more

A low word count can cause panic as you may feel written out, but there are ways to bump up your word count while engaging your readers more fully.

Don’t gallop to the end

If you have a story in mind, you want to get the bare bones of the plot down as quickly as possible. And that’s not a bad thing. But give the manuscript a read and consider where you could elaborate on the basic design.

Your hero needs to destroy a piece of code which has world-ending potential. You have a lot of scenes where he is plotting his movements once he has broken into the facility. But what about adding a scene or scenes where he has to learn how to physically infiltrate the building? You might have given passing attention to this aspect in your draft which you can expand into an interesting quest in and of itself. You increase the suspense for your reader and up the word count simultaneously.

Flesh out characters

Say you have created a character (let’s call her Delilah) who likes to get her way. The protagonist (Angela) is the target of her pressure. You show Angela doing what Delilah wants despite her misgivings so that you can go onto the juicier parts where Angela gets into trouble.

But what if Delilah breaks down Angela’s resistance gradually rather than Angela giving in during one scene? What if you show Delilah’s war of attrition? That way, Delilah is a more interesting character, not just a steam-roller, and Angela doesn’t seem as weak (not usually a good look for the protagonist). Better story and higher word count.

Use subplots

A sub-plot is a story parallel to the main story which may enhance or amplify the main plot. I know that doesn’t give you much but I think I need to spend time on this so I will talk subplots farther on.

Anyhow, alls to say, increasing the word count for your novel can also heighten the excitement and engagement of the story. The next post will cover a question you might need to ask yourself as you are improving your manuscript.

Fixing Deus ex Machina

machina

Fixing Deus ex Machina

In the previous post, I pointed out how even an accomplished author such as Robert Harris can get caught in the Deus ex Machina trap. Let’s talk about how to avoid it.

The Machina bit—how to tell

It can be hard to identify this. You may have had a sudden brilliant idea which would work things out for your heroine and wrote it out. But when you’ve done that, pause for a moment.

First off, take a skeptical look at your climax and resolution. Is there enough build-up to make both credible? That is, is it what most reasonable people might do to resolve their problem? Does the heroine have the skill, experience, guts, etc. to pull it off? Or has someone suddenly ridden out of the blue for the rescue? And yes, Prince Charmings would fit this description.

If you’re not sure, ask friends, family, etc. They don’t have to read the whole novel. Just explain the issue that the heroine is facing and how it is resolved. If you get nods, you’re probably good to go. If you get puzzled expressions and lots of questions you may have an inadvertent Deus ex Machina.

The fix bit

It may look like an insurmountable mountain but actually, the fix can be easy although possibly time-consuming.

Deus ex Machinas, almost by definition, come out of nowhere. And make the solution you propose unlikely or unbelievable.

But the answer is not necessarily to change the ending. The answer is more likely to be going back into your story to introduce enough elements so that the resolution doesn’t feel to your reader like an easy way out for you.

An example

Let’s go back to our hero on a crumbling cliff. A bomb goes off and kills the enemies but not the hero. If you really want to keep this ending, think about how to make it credible.

Could the hero take a huge risk and jump down to the rocks beneath the cliff before the bomb goes off? If so, you need to establish earlier that he is a dare-devil type with highly developed agility (and show, don’t tell, please).

Or could the enemies be fairly incompetent bomb makers and the bomb just stuns them? If so, you would need to have more than a couple of scenes showing the enemies’ incompetence and particularly in bomb deployment. An opportunity for some humor if you want to take it that way?

I’m not saying that any of these would be fabulous saves to your story but the point is that you can go back into the story and build in what you need to make the ending credible.

For example, in Munich  which we discussed in the last post, the author Robert Harris could have included some subtle scenes where the secret agent/secretary does things which are unremarkable at the time but, on reflection, are clues the reader fails to pick up.  For example, the hero could be irritated because the secretary keeps trying to tidy up his papers. Or he keeps running into her as he is going about his mission. He remarks on it but in a by-the-by way.

It is often effective to introduce these hints when the reader is being distracted by some high drama related to the main plot.

So, it’s not that you can’t have a bomb going off. But make sure there are enough illustrations/clues/hints in the preceding scenes so that your reader’s reaction is “How clever,” rather than “Huh?”

Deus ex Machina: Robert Harris’ Munich

Deus

Deus ex Machina: Robert Harris’ Munich

I love Robert Harris’ books but even such an accomplished writer can fall into the trap of Deus ex Machina.

Love Robert Harris’ novels

I just want to repeat this as I would not want to put you off reading Robert Harris. He is an exemplar in using research to illuminate and not drown the story (memoir and historical fiction writers, take note). Fatherland, one of his earliest, brilliantly uses what might have happened in Nazi Germany after the war. The Cicero Trilogy is another example of meticulous research turned into compelling reading. He also writes exciting contemporary novels like The Ghost, which has been turned into an equally gripping movie called The Ghost Writer directed by Roman Polanski. So, are you convinced that I like his writing? Let’s proceed.

What is Deus ex Machina?

Deus ex Machina is a literary term which loosely means that the writer writes himself into a corner. He creates a great dilemma for his protagonist but there is no way out. The hero is on a crumbling cliff and his enemies are waiting just below him on the mountain. Suddenly, a bomb goes off and blows up his enemies. Our hero makes his way safely down the mountain and lives happily ever after.

Which leaves the reader thinking, “Wait a minute—where did the bomb come from?” and/or “How come the blast didn’t destroy the cliff, too?” This is Deus ex Machina. The resolution to the story through an unexpected and often unbelievable event not engineered by the hero.

Robert Harris’ Munich

Munich covers the events which led to the signing of the Munich Pact in 1938. The Pact was negotiated between Nevil Chamberlain, the then Prime Minister of Great Britain and Adolf Hitler, Chancellor and dictator of Germany. It was Chamberlain’s attempt to stave off conflict with Germany through yielding to Hitler’s demands and is widely seen as an at least an ill-advised and at worst, a shameful piece of appeasement. Which did nothing to prevent the outbreak of war.

Hugh Legat is an ambitious but junior member of the British diplomatic corps who is taken to the Munich conference because of his friendship with Paul von Hartmann. They met at Oxford and Hartmann is now with the German Foreign Office but secretly opposed to Hitler. He has promised the British government a document damaging to Hitler only if he can turn it over to Legat.

He does so but it is stolen from Legat’s briefcase and it seems inevitable that Hartmann will be arrested.

Okay—spoiler alert but necessary.

All is saved because a British secretary, also in Munich, but barely mentioned in the rest of the novel, is a secret agent who stole the document for safekeeping.

This comes out of the blue. Harris is known for his clever and unexpected endings but this one, I think, slips into Deus ex Machina territory. Instead of “Oh, how clever—makes sense but I didn’t pick up the clues,” I thought, “What? Where did she come from?”

Next post: Let’s talk about how to avoid Deus ex Machina in your writing.