Tone—What Attitude Looks Like in Writing

Last post, we talked about how the attitude or tone of your writing can enhance or detract from the pleasure readers take in your work. This can be difficult to pick up so I want to work through some examples.

Some examples of different attitudes

Remember, the tone or attitude of your piece is usually carried by the narrator. This can be the main character telling the story from her point of view, or it can be how the setting, actions, and speech, etc., are depicted.

So, let’s use the same setting—a children’s outing on a beach—and show how different tones affect the feel of the writing. As mentioned before, the attitude you think a piece takes is often subjective, so you may not agree with my label for all of the following snippets. But focus on how different words and the choice of diverse elements of the scene can affect the tone.

Happy The sun sparkled on the water. And bounced off the metal grill of Dad’s car. It was hot. Really hot. Just perfect. We ran down into the water, yelling and screaming, and flopped ourselves down onto the sandy bottom.

Sad The children ran down to the beach. I sat up. Was that Danny? The sun was in my eyes. I squinted but couldn’t see. Then I sat back and shook my head. Of course it can’t be.

Angry I swotted the flies away from my drink. Damn sand always brought them out. And what the hell were those children screaming about in the water? Making an unholy cacophony. Parents these days don’t have any control.

Nostalgic It must have been a day just like this. Warm, almost hot, sun. And there must have been children much like these gambolling now on the beach. Older perhaps, but just as lively. And as carefree.

Sarcastic/Mocking A summer idyll. I don’t think so. I bet those parents think they’re making life-long memories for their kids. And feel a glow because of it. When all the kids will remember is how their parents done them wrong.

You see how focusing on different elements of the same scene can alter the tone of the piece. A happy piece doesn’t necessarily fix on the flies; a nostalgic one may use the present scene as a springboard into the past.

Whether or not your whole novel or memoir has a particular tone depends of course on whether it is sustained by its continued use.

What attitude do you want to convey?

Depends on your writing style and your intent for the piece. But generally, I would advise against an a priori decision. Just write a good story. Tone, if there needs to be one, will probably emerge.

In fact, it is more likely that you’ll inadvertently transmit a tone which doesn’t fit or impedes the enjoyment of the story itself. So, unless you purposefully want to communicate a particular attitude and are clear why you want to do it, I think generally you’d be wiser to let the story engage the reader rather than overlay a tone.

November 20, 2020November 20, 2020

Tone

The tone of a novel can be a tricky one for both readers and writers to pick up. This post will discuss what it is and how to identify it in your writing.

What is tone?

Tone is usually carried by the narrator of the story. The narrator, even if not named, tells you about setting, describes the characters, lets you know how things are rolling out, etc. Sometimes, the narrator’s tenor can be fairly neutral and therefore in the background. But it can also be witty, sarcastic, sentimental, mocking, etc.

I want to make the distinction between a mocking tone and a mocking character.

Character: “You think you’ll get away with that, you cretin?” Ada flipped her hair.

Tone: “I’m very empathetic,” Ada said, running her artificially nurtured nails through the assisted gold of her hair.

Tone comes, not from what the characters do or say, but how the narrator describes what they do or say.

Why does it matter?

If a particular attitude can be carried off in a novel, it can be very entertaining. A wise-ass narrator who has opinions on his characters can work.

It is, however, very hard to sustain a particular manner throughout a long piece like a novel. For one thing, your story may call for some serious or even tragic events. If you’ve established the tone as sarcastic, the best you can do is treat these scenes comically.

A strong tone can also distract from your story. It can look as if you’re saying to your readers: Hey, look at how clever I am, how amusingly I’m telling you this. It can be irritating and get in the way.

Finally, a particular tone is sometimes camouflage. You want to write about the tortured relationship with your mother, but you do it in a flippant, even amusing manner. If you didn’t experience the events as amusing, then you’re not being emotionally honest with yourself or with your readers. And they’ll pick it up, even as they’re laughing.

So you may have created a compelling story with vivid characters and fascinating plot twists, but a tone that is off-putting will make the reader lose interest. It is a way of breaking the continuous dream you’re trying to craft. And being readers, it’s not their job to identify where you went wrong. It’s yours.

How can I tell how my writing is tending?

First off, and annoyingly, tone is usually subjective, just like comedy. I think the tone is hilarious; you think it’s contemptuous. Even so, you still want to most of your readers to ‘hear’ your story the way you intended it. This is where writing groups and ideal readers come in. Ask them to read for tone (you might have to explain what that is). And like all feedback, listen well and then decide yourself whether it applies. After all, it’s your writing.

However, I know that this is a tough area so the next post will go into more detail on your writing’s attitude.

October 30, 2020October 28, 2020

Write What You Want to Read

I know we all want to write works with Big Thoughts and Deep Conclusions. Because when we read these types of novel, they inspire us with what is possible.

But news—I think novels whose writer started out by thinking, ‘Right, this is going to be Big and Deep and Meaningful,’ often (I would say ‘always’ but I don’t want to exaggerate), end up with works which are also pedantic, boring, stilted, and forced. How come?

Well, pedantic because the writer (let’s call him Tom to save me typing and getting caught in the his/her thing)—so, Tom—because he has already decided the message he wants to convey, can easily slip into Telling rather than Showing, exposition, and even lecturing. While telling and exposition can have their place in a novel, their overuse will bore the reader.

In addition, since Tom has decided what he wants you to think, an efficient—I’m not saying effective—way to do it is have his characters spout his philosophy. Which often leads to stilted set pieces which don’t come out of the character’s personality and growth, but straight from Tom himself. So, we have an airhead character suddenly quoting Spinoza accompanied by a thoughtful reflection on his application to her life.

Same with plot. Because of Tom’s plan, he must often twist the plot line to meet his objectives. The hero purposely goes to a rough part of town so that he can be beaten up so that he can wax philosophical on the brutality of humankind.

Write what turns your crank

What do you typically read? Mystery, romance, scifi, westerns? Each genre has its own rules—I’ve talked about the rules of mystery in a previous post—and if you already read that genre, you have an instinctive understanding of it. You have a leg up when you start to write as you already know something of the typical settings, characters, plots, and actions.

If you are trying to decide what to write, at least start out there. I have a mystery novel hidden in a sock drawer which will never see the light of day but from which I nevertheless learned a huge amount about writing and myself as a writer.

Shouldn’t I be aiming for higher? Or lower?

I know there is still a niggle. Shouldn’t I be trying for Greater Things? Or alternately, shouldn’t I be aiming for a more commercial market?

Here’s the thing—you can start out with a project based on what you like to read and as you progress, the magic that is writing will help shape your views. For example, writing the mystery novel made me realize that I was impatient with the need, inherent in mysteries, for the characters to be assigned roles such as victim, murderer, suspect, detective, and sidekick. I wanted to be able to play more with their growth or decay.

Similarly, if you read only Booker and other literary prize winners, start trying to emulate what you admire. You may end up being the next Jane Austen or you may find that the novel is turning into a comedy.

What matters is not where you start but where you end. And the truth that you tell along the way. I leave the last words to Carol Shields.

Straining for seriousness almost invariably looks bogus while simple adherence to the truth does not.” [1]

[1] Shields, Carol, Startle and Illuminate: Carol Shields on Writing Random House, Canada, 2006 p. 19

October 27, 2020October 27, 2020

There’s a Book in Everyone. Isn’t There?

Is there a book in you?

Absolutely. I think that everybody’s life has the thrilling components of a book. Think of the timeworn stories you drag up when you’re with family and old friends. Aren’t they funny, poignant, inspiring, exciting, nostalgic, etc.? Otherwise, why do you tell them? The possibility that you are a repetitive bore I will ignore since I know none of you are.

And, in the quiet moments of life, on a long car journey or just before you fall asleep, don’t reflections on life lived or should be lived come to you? Wishes, aspirations, wisdom, regrets and longings—all the stuff of novel or memoir.

So why does Carol Shields believe that it is a myth that there’s novel in everyone[1]?

Because she knows about people like Amanda.

Amanda

This is an honest-to-god conversation I had with a would-be author (given artistic license, of course).

“So, you’re interested in writing?” I asked. “Fiction or non-fiction?”

Amanda passed a hand through the recently revamped blackness of her hair. “Oh, either one.”

“Oh, well…articles or a long piece?”

She shrugged. “Novel, articles, whatever.”

“What are you working on now?”

Her eyebrows went up high. “I’ve got a full-time job. I couldn’t do anything now.”

Of course. “Have you ever taken a writing course?”

“Do you think I should?”

I made a deprecating little noise. “Writing takes a lot of craft.”

“Oh, really? Well, maybe I’ll do that.” She smiled. “So, should I get an agent first or go directly to publishers?”

“Ah…I think you need to write something first.”

She waved that away. “Of course. That’s not a problem.” She tapped the side of her head in a significant way. “It’s all up here.”

Great. When wordless novels are the new wave, she’ll be ahead of the curve.

She continued. “Should I publish through a regular publisher or on-line?”

“Actually, I think you need to write it first.”

“Can you deduct research trips?”

“I suppose, although the tax department needs proof that you’ve written—”

“What about car expenses? Mileage, gas, repairs, car washes?”

“Well, writers aren’t in cars a whole lot. They’re usually at a computer.”

“But you must have to meet with your agent and publisher—”

“It’s mostly done on-line—

“On-line…” she seemed disappointed but took it well.

I make one last effort. “Amanda, I think you can deal with all of this once you’ve written something.”

She waved it and me away. “But I need to be prepared. Because it’s all up here.”

Do you know how to bring it out?

So that’s why Carol Shields calls the book-in-everyone thing a myth. We all have the stories but sadly, that’s not enough. As it turns out, the skill of writing things down in an interesting way is completely different from those of a good raconteur.

You need the ideas and stories, yes, but you also need to master the craft of writing enough (ADV for this blog) to shape them into compelling reading. You also need the perseverance to stick with a lengthy and sometimes frustrating process. And, unlike our friend Amanda, you need the courage to begin.

If you need a bit of encouragement or nudging, you might want to read my posts, Do I Start the Story at the Beginning? Or How to Start an Autobiography or Memoir. To address the stick-with-it-ness that you will need, read The Muse and the Piano Tuner.

And for daring and audacity, don’t take my word for it but Winston Churchill’s

Courage is the first of human qualities, because it is the quality which guarantees all the others.

[1] Shields, Carol, Startle and Illuminate: Carol Shields on Writing Random House, Canada, 2006

October 15, 2020October 15, 2020

Self-Censoring

Self-Censoring

Self-censoring is pernicious, mostly because the people who do it most are often the ones who least realize it.

What does self-censoring look like?

I was in a writing group with a woman writing about a personally difficult topic—meeting a long-lost relative. She wrote effectively about her fears and hopes for the encounter. And about her reactions to it. But nothing about the meeting itself. It was as if she closed the door to her readers on what was the emotional core of the story.

The problem is that this writer was surprised (and threatened and offended) when it was pointed out that she had written around the story rather than about it.

I get it, I do. And have some sympathy for the woman who seemed to have felt that depicting the meeting was a bridge too far. But you can see how her unconscious self-censoring affected the quality of her story-telling.

Holding back affects the quality of writing

I’ve written before of the tough necessity to appear naked on the page. Being embarrassingly, shamefully, and completely honest is the only way I know to achieve the emotional truth which readers recognize and respond to. Readers know if you are giving the straight goods even if you don’t. Being readers not writers, they don’t think, “She’s not emotionally honest.” More likely, they’ll say “I just couldn’t get into it.” And not read what you have to say.

Are you repressing your writing?

I think we all do a bit of self-censoring. To capture a real person on paper, we might change the hair color or leave out the most obvious tic or quirk.

But the real self-censorship comes which you find yourself thinking, I can’t say that! and write away from that spot. The fear of exposing yourself or hurting others can happen at any time but is very common in memoirs. Self-censorship is death to the creative process. Without knowing it, you avoid some topics and choose others. You write charming travel logs rather than the abuse at the time of the travel.

What if I’m going for charming?

Nothing wrong with then but, while they might provide light entertainment, they rarely stir a reader’s soul.

But more importantly, here’s the thing. In a way I don’t understand, my finished product is almost never as deep, affecting, true—whatever words you want to use—as originally hoped for. Many writers have that experience. The piece may be good, even very good, but there is almost always some indefinable way in which you had yearned for more.

So, if you start out aiming for shallow or good enough, you’ll end up with even less. And your readers will know it.

What can I do?

I wish I could be prescriptive or even descriptive, but mostly this consists of being able to be—hidden under covers or in the middle of a forest—honest about your work. Ask yourself questions like: are there moments where I have ducked the real issue? Or have I glossed over a messy bit because it seems too hard or painful to write?

If your aim is to be a better writer, allow yourself to fully immerse in the scene in question—allowing uncomfortable feelings to surface, staying with them rather than pushing away.

I’m not saying it’s easy but it’s the only route I know which ups the possibility that you are writing as truthfully as you can.