Breaking the Rules

The previous post had examples of where the author broke what seem to be cardinal rules of writing and not only got away with it, but produced a stunning novel.

Great, I can do what I want

This type of break-the-mold book can make some writers think, “I can write whatever I want because these celebrated authors did.” Given this mindset, the writer might be resistant to feedback which tries to steer him to more tried and true methods. He might even see it as trying to dampen or change his unique voice.

Uh-huh. Well, okay, there’s always the possibility you’re writing an iconoclastic novel which will confound your critics when published to great acclaim. I always leave that possibility open. And I do buy that if you don’t believe in your novel, nobody else will. So, you may be right. But on the other hand, you might not be. So, why not read the rest of this before you toss the idea?

Walking then running

These writers didn’t skip from novice to iconoclast in one leap. Cormac McCarthy has been publishing novels for over 35 years. Similarly, Hamid, the author of The Reluctant Fundamentalist, has both a long history of writing for prestigious journals but also had already published a much acclaimed novel, Moth Smoke, before Fundamentalist.

These authors undoubtedly spent many long years honing their craft so that they could use the traditional methods with ease and mastery. It is only after they reached that high level of competence that they understood when a particular technique didn’t serve the needs of the story, and launched into something which amazed their readers with its audacity.

How do you square the rules circle?

So, what if your writing teacher or writer friends are telling you one thing and you think you’re following a different star? Well, as I’ve elaborated in other posts, slow down the automatic reaction to reject the feedback and try to find anything that might be useful in it.

Say the feedback is that your descriptions are too long even if beautifully written. This sticks in your craw. They admit the passages are stunning and still want them cut down. What’s with that? Have they no literary sensibility?

So, here’s where you need to slow down. Ask yourself questions like:

Is there anything useful in the feedback?
Too long for what reason? What is it preventing the reader from doing?
Is it possible that the delightful description is slowing the action?

You might huff that your readers should invest the time required to allow you to fully paint the atmosphere in which the action is taking. Fair enough. You may be right.

Experiment

However, how horrible would it be if you experimented with moving more quickly to action?

I’m not suggesting you do so and then lay the new piece before your critics as you confess the error of your ways. But just when it’s you and the computer, could you give it a try and then decide its value? Does it help the narrative? Does it serve the story better to rein in the description? If the answer is on balance, yes, then factor this into your future writing. If on balance, no, then you’ve seriously considered the feedback and decided to ignore it which is okay.

November 26, 2022November 26, 2022

The Reluctant Fundamentalist and All the Pretty Horses

The Reluctant Fundamentalist and All the Pretty Horses

The really annoying thing about writing is that for every sacrosanct rule that we’re supposed to live by, there’s some writer who comes up with a narrative which breaks it and damn if it doesn’t work. Like Cormac McCathy’s All the Pretty Horses and Mohsin Hamid’s The Reluctant Fundamentalist.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist

Take the novel, The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid. Reading the first few pages, I thought, “This can’t be a first person monolog for the entire novel. That’s ridiculous. It’s never going to work.” It was and it did!

The author breaks the monolog, in fact although not in form, by having the protagonist ‘repeat’ the words of the American he is speaking to before responding. Similarly, there are long flashbacks which take the more standard form.

But still, a full novel monolog. It shouldn’t work, it does, and is even necessary for the nature of the ending (read it—it’s worth it).

All the Pretty Horses

Similarly, Cormac McCarthy, the author of, in particular, All the Pretty Horses. It won the National Book Award in 1992 so I thought I would give it a go.

I hated it at the beginning. Hated, hated, hated it. For one thing, McCarthy had dialogue like (this is my imitation of him):

“Is Ruth coming?”

“Nah, she’s busy.”

“Won’t be no fun without her.”

Who’s Ruth? Who’s talking?

Also, he had long passages in Spanish (without translation) which moved the action forward. And his sentences were often (again my imitation): He hit him with a shovel until he intervened. Aaahh! These are all male cowboys. Give me a hint!

I was pissed but decided to read exactly half-way before giving up to figure out why he was so praised.

Around page 75, I fell in love. The descriptions of the West spoke to me as if I had been born to it. With characters who don’t talk much and whose internal life is almost never revealed. With only their actions to show, McCarthy created a compelling story with basically one authorial hand tied behind his back!

Yes, he still did unattributed dialogue, untranslated Spanish, and confusing pronouns. But it didn’t matter. I loved, loved, loved it.

So some authors can break from the traditional way and make it work. Sometimes, wonderfully.

Accordingly, can you break the rules, too? Next post.

September 30, 2022September 30, 2022

The Muse and the Piano Tuner

I learned a lot about the writing muse from a piano tuner.

After half an hour of plucking strings, the piano tuner called to me. “Okay, I’m done.” He rippled through some swing tune, no sheet music of course.

“Wow, you’re good! Do you play professionally?”

He shrugged. “I’m in a band.” As he stuck his tools into his satchel, “You a writer?”

I raised my eyebrows. “How did you know?”

He pointed to the book face down on the piano. “This is you, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Crummy picture.”

“So, you write full time?”

“Not full-time. As much as I can.”

He asked, almost shyly, as if it might be too personal. “Do you have to wait until you’re in the mood to write?”

I shrugged. “Well, no. If I waited, I don’t think I’d ever do it.”

Suddenly, his face cleared. “Oh, yeah, I get it. It’s like when you have a gig. Doesn’t matter whether you want to play or not. You just show up and play.”

Show up and play and the Muse might too

Show up and play. I know there’s a lot of stuff writers believe about waiting for the Muse to strike. Or I suppose ‘visit’ would be a better word for such a sought-after commodity.

With hand to head, they vow they can’t write a word unless inspired by some external force. And thus have a perfect reason not to, because that Muse, she’s not much into house calls.

However, many famous authors didn’t seem to wait. Tolstoy said, “I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine.” Victor Hugo wrote from dawn to 11:00 every day. Agatha Christie saw writing as a job.

They discovered what all writers, I believe, need to understand. The Muse isn’t going to show up until you do. It’s like Moses and the parting of the Red Sea. As a friend much more learned than me pointed out, the real learning from that story is that Moses and the Israelites had to start wading into the Red Sea before God parted it. That is, they had to show their commitment and faith before God would step in.

As the piano tuner said, you need to show up and play. It is when you are actively engaged in writing that the Muse or whatever the magic consists of, can show up. So, don’t wait for It to strike. Invite It in.

September 25, 2022September 25, 2022

Fixing Conversation with As-You-Know-Bobs

The seduction of a conversation with As-You-Know-Bobs

In a previous post, I talked about As-You-Know-Bobs—information which the characters already know but the reader doesn’t. A short-cut but not very effective way to inform the reader is to use an As you know, Bob, my life was shattered by the recent death of my grandmother.

They’re easy, efficient, and let you get onto more interesting bits of the story.

And sometimes, they’re even OK to use. If the point is unimportant to the main plot and not worth spending a lot of time on, you can get away with an AYKB. However, the example in the previous paragraph demonstrates where you probably shouldn’t use one because it’s hard to believe that this isn’t going to figure in the plot line (otherwise, why bring it up at all?).

Identifying when you are falling into As-You-Know-Bobs

It can be quite subtle. Here are some times when you might be tempted:

Establishing info. You want to give background on a character. If the character is major, a couple of short flashbacks or a conversation of the ramifications of the background on the present situation might work better.
You need to remind the reader of an earlier event. Remembering readers will not necessarily read your work in one go, it is often helpful to remind them of a past event which is the basis for the present action. A character not at the previous event could be informed by one who was. Or a one liner by the protagonist (Drat, those Munchkins again) might be enough.
‘Tell’ in disguise. Dan says to Bob: “Remember our treks into the hinterland when we were younger? I know that your wife Marj never liked you going on them. But they were great fun, weren’t they? I’ve never felt so free.”

You get across a lot of information in a telescoped format. Again, if it’s unimportant, might be okay (although I’d lose the ‘your wife’—that’s an AKYB within an AKYB). Otherwise, a flashback or a more back-and-forth dialog between the characters could bring out the information more naturally.

Want to move onto a more interesting bit in the narrative. You know where you want to go in this scene and are eager to get to it but have to establish some point first. There is an excellent possibility that this is an AYKB in the making. Again, if the point is small, no prob. But if it’s big (AYKB, I was assaulted on this mountain and never wanted to come back), stifle your urge to get through this bit quickly to get onto the character dealing with the aftermath of this trauma.

How to avoid As-You-Know-Bobs

Two suggestions, one practical and one a bit airy-fairy. But the airy-fairy one is the better, I think.

Slow down. Remember, the intent is not for you or your reader to get to the end in record time. The intent is to create a fully realized world where the characters act naturally and credibly.

Get into the character’s head space. You are probably already writing from the protagonist’s point of view but I’m suggesting a little more. If you can immerse yourself in that character so that you see the world through her eyes, it’s much harder to commit AYK-B. In her head space, you don’t fall prey to the temptations outlined above. You wouldn’t tell Bob things you know he already knows but would take them as givens and move on from there.

September 16, 2022September 16, 2022

As You Know, Bob—Cheating with Dialog

As You Know, Bob—Cheating with Dialog

I didn’t come up with this term about dialog so I thank whoever in my distant past introduced me to the concept.

What is an As-you-know-Bob? Sometimes, they’re easy to spot. As you know, Bob, I’m short and plump or As you know, Bob, I’m carrying a mysterious package. These are obvious and silly but they can slip into dialog in other ways.

As you know, Bob, my brother and I have not spoken for forty years and this is my attempt at reconciliation.

As you know, Bob, my daughter is really beautiful and attracts all kinds of unwanted attention.

Would this happen in real life? Wouldn’t you get Well, of course I know—why are you telling me again? The characters in your narrative should be no less sharp.

What’s so bad about dialog which is As-you-know-Bob?

Well, as sins of the world go, it’s not right up there. There are more egregious items just in the writing sphere.

Still, it’s a bit of a cheat. It is an economical but not effective way to communicate information the reader needs (e.g. relationship to main protagonist, history of the divorce) by pretending to remind Bob even though he already knows it. Otherwise, why say As you know?.

Avoiding As-you-know-Bobs

Let’s take the two examples from above and redo them to avoid the A-Y-K,B.

*You:*	My brother called last night.
*Bob:*	Really? How long has it been?
*You:*	God, maybe going on forty years.
*Bob:*	What did he want?
*You:*	Trying to get back in my good graces, I guess.
*Bob:*	So, what are you gonna do?
*You:*	I dunno. Maybe try to meet him half-way.

Here, Bob knows the situation and can ask intelligent questions which the reader wants to know also. You can move the story forward without telescoping everything into an A-Y-K,B.

Second example.

*You:*	I’m pissed.
*Bob:*	What?
*You:*	That jerk Dan keeps calling Jenny.
*Bob:*	You don’t like him?
*You:*	He’s just another one after her for her looks.
*Bob:*	There’ve been a few like that, haven’t there?

Generally speaking, a more vivid way to portray a situation is to use a specific example from which the general conclusion can be drawn. You are pissed about Dan not just about young men in general. Avoiding an A-Y-K,B allows you to put more meat on the fictional bones.

Doesn’t this take longer?

Yes, and what’s your point? Again, the aim is not to get your reader to the end of your piece in record time, but to engage her in what feels like a real world.

As you know, Bob, this is what you want to do. The next post will walk you through identifying and fixing A-Y-K-Bs in your writing.