Should You Turn Your Idea into a Novel?

Usually, new writers gravitate to short stories to try out their wings, so to speak. However, the short story is an art form with quite a different set of expectations from the novel. So, if you are contemplating writing a novel, you might want to reflect on the following points. They are not about the novel form, but considerations before making the commitment.

Is your idea suitable for a novel?

Because novels are longer pieces, you need to be fairly (you can never be completely sure off the top) that your idea has at least some of these characteristics:

Has legs. Clearly you’re interested in your idea, but you’re better off if you’re thinking “I’ve always been fascinated by…” rather than “Seems like an okay idea; might work.”
Can be expanded. Any idea can be expanded, but is it relatively easy—not necessarily easy but possible—to think about where the narrative might go? Doesn’t have to go there in the long run but at this stage, can you envision your protagonist engaging in a series of actions all of which have their own climax and/or resolution or do you envision more of a short, sharp crisis?
A whole world can be created. That is, what you want to write will have the feel of a fully realized world where the reader will be able to imagine how it works even beyond the confines of the novel you are writing. Think of good science fiction. Good science fiction writers can create an alien society which all makes sense within its own context. You need to do the same even if your novel is taking place on Earth in the present day. I realize that this might not be enough so I have more in a post called Creating the Fictional World.

What doesn’t matter so much

Geography. Your novel can be confined to a room in a house or cover the great outdoors.
Breadth of the canvas. Like geography, you may concentrate intensely on the internal life of one character or plan a whole cast of them. Both can work for a novel.
How long it’s going to take to write. Novels generally take longer to write than short stories, if only because there are more words, but don’t make this a determining factor. If the material lends itself to a novel, then give it a try.
Novels sell better. Well, they do.But a novel is a significant undertaking in time and effort. And there is no guarantee you can sell it after you’ve invested all that blood, sweat, and tears. I’d be careful about choosing the novel form with future sales in mind—you might be getting into much more than you bargained for.

It’s a personal decision

As with everything else in writing, rules are made to be broken and there is no right answer. As you can see from the examples, there are few if any ideas which demand the novel rather than short story form (okay, sweeping family sagas maybe being the exception).

Make your choice and get cracking.

July 31, 2020June 5, 2020

Plot—Where the Real Story Begins

I’ve done a post on whether to start at the beginning of your memoir or story, but here I want to talk about where the real plot begins. See the classic diagram of a story above? Although the plot may be said to encompass the entire story arc or triangle, I think that where the plot actually starts to engage the reader is in the phase of rising action—that is, where the characters start to do things which will affect their fate.

The plot doesn’t start at exposition

But I find that writers tend to spend more time on the first phase of exposition than necessary or advisable. This can be a particular challenge when writing memoir. Exposition is the background you provide the reader on the setting and characters, and where you can highlight facts or events which will be important to the plot/story later on (if you don’t know what these are when you start writing, you can always go back after you’ve finished the whole narrative to add these).

Exposition is where writers can be led into the following errors:

Too much scene setting. This can include an exhaustive description of the physical setting or defining the time period. If the novel is historical, you certainly need to do some scene setting just as you would in science fiction. But this is not an opportunity to show off how much research you have done, or how expert you are in the family tree. Use the research and expertise to inform the exposition but not to the point of cudgeling the reader with more information than she needs to start the story.

Too much characterization. If, at the beginning of your narrative, you give the reader the full dope on the character (tall, determined, insightful, greedy) before you start engaging the character in events and scenes which illustrate these qualities, you have done a sort of ‘tell’ and make the subsequent show less interesting. Also, doing this can be a way of forcing the reader to judge the character the way you want rather than allowing him to come to his own conclusions.

Why does it matter?

Novels which start with a long exposition phase tend to lose the reader. Because exposition is not plot, no matter how necessary to the final story.

The typical reader starts to perk up when there are events which contribute to the unfolding of the story, i.e. the phase of rising action. You need to start your novel as close to there as possible.

How to get in the background bits

I realize that may leave some of you distressed that you can’t use all the research or background that you know. Get over it. The point is to tell a good story.

And, remember, the reader doesn’t need to know everything you know about the setting or characters before she starts. If a piece of exposition is needed during the story so the reader understands the succeeding event, stick it in close to that event. Thus, you can get the background in but when it is relevant to the reader.

In summary, do as short an exposition as you can and get to the plot—rising action and beyond—as soon as you can.

July 17, 2020June 5, 2020

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.

July 10, 2020July 5, 2020

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.

June 19, 2020April 9, 2020

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.