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When to Break Literary Law

literary

When to Break Literary Law

In the last post, I featured another author, Muriel Spark, whose novel The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie thumbed its nose at literary law. Having already discussed why to be wary of Breaking the rules, I now want to discuss when you might want to.

Unfortunately, I fear this post is going to be pretty wishy-washy. I can’t tell you with certainty when to take the plunge or what form it should take. I may not even be able to give you examples from other writers. Because this is an idiosyncratic and personal phenomenon.

But I am pretty sure of (maybe) that sitting down, thinking, Right, I’m writing an iconoclastic novel, doesn’t work. The result is likely to be forced and false

Breaking literary conventions

I think the time to break literary laws is when the fracturing is required because of the needs of the story or because it is the nature of your voice as a writer.

You may get to the point that following the normal story arc just doesn’t suit or support where you want to take the novel. You might want to interject fantasy elements in an otherwise reality based tale, the significance of which will only become evident at the end. You might have drawn a protagonist who is so out of touch with who he is that the most effective way to show it is to omit any kind of inner life. These might be times when you dump conventions and go with what best serves the story.

I also accept that some writers can best express who they are, i.e. their voice, through elliptical, non-linear, and even chaotic novels where the joy comes from going along for the ride and not from following a strict story line. So ignoring rules may be what is needed to truly capture your spirit on the page.

So, if either of these (and probably others I haven’t thought of) fit you, then by all means, give it a go.

Some caveats

There are, however, some issues which might arise from these approaches which are worth paying attention to.

As I have discussed before, in order to feel true and realistic to your audience, writers must know that the readers’ expectations from fiction which are largely unconscious but which you ignore at your peril.

You might decide that your ending should be vague and even confusing in order to fit with the rest of the novel. However, since readers by and large expect some kind of resolution, you may confuse and even anger them. While you might be going for the latter, do you really want to confuse them?

I’m not saying don’t do it but I think you need to be cognizant of the possible outcome. Because not only are you violating their normal expectations, you are asking them to conform to your new rules, however unspoken. Even if that rule is that there are no rules.

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The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

Brodie

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

One of the only silver linings in this historic period of social distancing is the chance to reread favorite old books. In my case, it is the novel The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark. The book rather than the  1969 movie of the same name (although I liked it, too) is what I want to discuss.

Edinburgh of the 1930s is the setting for the novel. Miss Brodie is a teacher in a private girls’ school and her charge is the twelve-year-old class. She ignores the curriculum to introduce ‘her girls’ to her highly romanticized view of the world with its decided fascist leanings. The girls adore her and follow her teachings slavishly. Well, with one notable exception. Read the book—it really is worth it.

But it is Spark’s defiance of literary conventions which I find fascinating.

Brodie ignores literary conventions

Lack of internal thoughts

A novelist’s access to the thoughts of at least the protagonist allows we understand the character’s world view, her fears, her desires, and hopefully find her sympathetic enough to want to know what happens to her.

Spark never uses this technique. Absolutely no internal dialogue. And yet we have a perfectly clear image of who she is.

How does she do it? By having her girls, their parents, her colleagues and her various lovers be fascinated/annoyed/jealous of her. From those sources, we have a complete picture.

Normally, I would be all over this. It verges on tell, not show. Spark forces us to rely on the observations of others rather than our own. It should be difficult to ‘get’ the character if her thoughts are closed to the reader.

And yet, it totally works. I know who Jean is despite Spark writing with one hand tied behind her back.

Shifts of Points of View (POV)

Because of intense fascination of Brodie’s girls with her, we get lots of shifts into their POV. We are inside the heads of the non-major characters and it all seems perfectly natural. But multiple POVs are usually frowned upon, particularly, you would think, because there isn’t one for the main character.

Shifts of time

In addition, Spark casts forward into the future to talk about the fictional present. She depicts the Brodie girls as adults, discussing how they view Brodie now. Just fascinating..

Breaking the rules

You might think that Spark could get away with what she did as she was depicting an over-the-top persona. The flamboyance of the character makes it easy for others to know her and pass that knowledge on to us.

But other authors have used the same technique with much more taciturn lead characters. Cormac McCarthy, the author of, in particular, All the Pretty Horses features cowboys in many of his novels. Can you imagine a bunch less likely to admit to having inner thoughts, much less sharing them? And yet he also makes it work (also worth reading, by the way).

So, authors can and do break rules that are normally considered sacrosanct. In Breaking the rules, I discussed the danger of writers assuming that they can be as wild and crazy as they like, assuming that their readers will take it lying down. But news, the only thing they might lay down is your book. Next post: When to Break Literary Law.

 

 

 

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Dealing with Other Writers’ Envy

envy

Dealing with Other Writers’ Envy

In the previous post, I suggested a way to deal with your jealousy. The other side of the coin is the envy of other writers toward what you write.

If you continue to work at becoming a better writer, both in skills and spirit, this proficiency can have the unfortunate side effect of others resenting it and you.

So let’s get over the huffing and puffing. They have no right to be jealous. If they had put as much time and effort as I have…yeah, yeah. You’re right. But doesn’t change the situation. So let’s talk about dealing with it. But first…

Is it really envy?

Honestly, it’s probably more of a feeling than anything else. You get a vibe that someone in your writing group envies you.

But beware of assuming your reactions are fact. Sometimes, what we think is true is more about how we feel about ourselves than how than how the world feels about us.

So, before taking any action on your belief, just do a mental check. Can you identify anything the other person said or did which confirms your conviction? A list of possible actions was discussed in the previous post.

If you can’t identify anything concrete, then give a thought at what else might be going on with you that would prompt this touchiness.

But if you are pretty sure that it exists, let’s move onto how to deal with it. I want to distinguish between beginning writers and those more practiced.

Beginning writers

This happens. Even though you’re just starting out, you may get a funny reaction. It might be about your writing skill but might also be that you are daring to do something new and innovative.

Whatever the source, the first reaction is the urge to say what’s your problem? Well, you can of course do it, as long as you don’t mind losing the friend or causing a minor war.

Instead, I would simply stop asking them to read your stuff. If they press to do so, lie. Oh, I haven’t done anything recently.

At this stage in your writing career, it’s important to prevent disheartening feedback. It’s hard enough to summon the courage to write and share. Starting out, you need praise for the act of daring as much as the writing itself. Mean-spirited comments might discourage you into stopping.

More experienced writers

When you are a more experienced writer, the jealousy is likely to be subtle but still there.

I think you can factor your knowledge of the other’s mindset into the feedback. That is, don’t take just her word for the idea that the story is flat; poll the other members of the group. Or, just say, thanks, interesting point and just let it die.

And this antipathy is a kind of a compliment, however backward. Your writing is good enough to prompt these comments.

Okay, just one final thing. I know you would never do this consciously, but are you inadvertently creating this resentment?

No, no, I know you’re not. But just in case, ask yourself:

  • Could how forcefully you express your opinions come off as doctrinaire?
  • Do you remind your peers of your superior skills?
  • Are you dismissive of others’ feedback on your pieces?

No, I know you’re not. I have faith in you.

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Jealousy and Writers

jealousy

Jealousy and Writers

Jealousy. This is kind of like those little icons on sites which ask “are you a human?” Check ‘yes’, please. Ergo (I’ve always wanted to use ‘ergo’), you’re likely to be jealous of other writers at one time or other. Somebody turns out a piece you don’t think you could have; another gets more praise than you think warranted i.e., more than you got.

Mostly writers deny or ignore the green-eyed monster. But pretending doesn’t help. Suppressed jealousy can make you feel inadequate. And people convinced they are lesser than aren’t the most open to learning and growing. So what can you do?

How to tell if you are jealous

This may have a kind of duh! feeling to it but like all emotions, jealousy can prompt you directly to action without being conscious of what lies beneath. A not-comprehensive list of how it might demonstrate itself:

  • Nit-picking the envied person’s piece. You can usually tell you’re doing it if nobody else has the same problem.
  • Pretending you don’t remember a fact/event which has been established to make The Other doubt how effectively she got it across.
  • ‘Forgetting’ to read The Other’s piece.
  • Making extremely critical remarks (e.g. this is junk) rather than a more nuanced and kinder comment (e.g. I got a bit confused by the plot).

Of course, sometimes these are legitimate—well, maybe not the last one. But if you find yourself doing these more than occasionally, that you need to pause and ask yourself, what’s going on?

How to deal with your jealousy

Naturally, you could just stop expressing your feelings. But while that might stop the behavior, it doesn’t stop the emotion. So I propose a more comprehensive way.

Okay, are you jealous of Margaret Atwood, Salman Rushdie or Charles Dickens? Of course not. Unless you’re writing with them (particularly challenging in Dickens’ case), you don’t envy them—you admire them. So why not turn what you are feeling into that? It all comes from the same source but admiring someone’s writing makes it a whole lot easier for you and on you.

So when you get that funny, uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, or heart, or throat, try to reframe it.

Reframing the feeling

This is an exercise best done with a glass of wine and a quiet house.

  • Consult wherever in your body is telling you that you’re jealous. Don’t try to chase it away. Just be with it.
  • Ask yourself What about The Other’s writing makes me feel this way?
  • Some answers might be she makes it look so damn easy or how come he could come up with that great plot twist? or I wish I could write as lyrically—mine is so flat. Etc., etc.
  • Having identified the source, add: and I admire that. That is, she makes it look so damn easy and I admire that. How come he came up with that great plot twist? I admire that. You get the drill.
  • Hopefully, you can tap into the secret admiration which prompted the negative feeling to begin with.
  • Use this understanding to benefit your writing by asking The Other, “God, you make it look so damned easy. How do you do it?” You not only flatter The Other but might even get some good tips out of the response.

So, you can use the twinges of jealousy into something productive which can not only help your writing but relax that stomach, heart or throat that has been tensing up.

But what do you do it the tables are turned. How do you deal with envy directed your way? Next post.

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I Love Self-Editing

self-editing

I Love Self-Editing

In recent posts, I’ve talked a lot about the self-editing you need to do to your draft manuscript. I fear your spirits might be sinking at the amount of work which looms ahead.

It can be a lot of work. Unless, of course, you’ve decided that every word is perfect, every character fully developed. Then we have a problem of a different sort. But assuming you have identified scenes to fix or write, it may be discouraging. It might even disincline you to do anything further which would be a great shame.

So I am here to tell you that actually, self-editing is fun. Yes, fun. I love to do it, maybe not more than writing itself, but it’s right up there.

This post will try to convince you to take on editing as an adventure rather than a drudge.

Editing seems to be largely about taking out stuff and putting other stuff in. Both are fun.

Self-editing: the taking stuff out

This is more often the copy editing phase. You are looking for the normal grammar, punctuation, missed and extra words. But in addition, there is seeking out and destroying the clumsy bits always in a first draft. Like the “hello, how are you”s and the tortured way you got the character out of the room. Rereading makes you realize you could simply stop the scene rather than have her get up from the chair, say her good-byes, move to the door, take the elevator to the ground floor—you get the picture.

Although this may sound weird, I get a positive thrill in lowering the word count. So much so that I actually track the number cut. Useless, no? But it provides a great sense of satisfaction. I don’t know why, it just does. And this is not just the crazy lady talking—many writers really get into this.

Fundamentally, I think self-editing appeals to my latent Napoleon complex. I am in complete control. I can do anything I want. I can push events around wherever I want. I have the power of life and death over my characters. See, Napoleon.

Self-editing: the putting stuff in

The other part of editing is identifying what is missing. Often scenes needed to clarify the plot or develop a character more fully.

While they probably take more brain power and imagination, these putting in parts also have their appeal. For one thing, you usually have a relatively short scene to write. You already know where you want to go so it is much more doable than writing the full sweep of the novel.

Because in these concentrated bits you already know what you want to accomplish, it allows focus on the quality of the writing rather than juggling plot, character, flow, and theme as you typically have to do when you wrote the novel originally.

 

There is an unexpected pleasure in having all the pieces of your novel and being able to reconstitute it in a way which is stronger, more elegant, and just plain better.