Tone

tone

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.

Avoiding Predictability

Predictability

Avoiding Predictability

In the last post, I said that I hated Downton Abbey because of its predictability. I want to spend this post on how to keep your stories fresh.

But isn’t all fiction about predictability?

So here is where it gets complicated. Kurt Vonnegut, author of many iconoclastic, often sci-fi, novels like Cat’s Cradle and Slaughter House Five, maintained there were only six basic plots. Boy Meets Girl, Cinderella, etc. So readers, however unconsciously, are looking for your novel to fall into one of these formats.

If you buy this idea, and perhaps surprisingly, I tend to, then you’ve gotta think that it’s one for predictability and zero for freshness.

However, I don’t think that’s true. As Vonnegut also points out in A Man Without a Country, it is the unique perspective you bring to the writing which makes the work exceptional and worth reading.

So my writing should be unpredictable

Not that either.

Not if it means that your calm, cool and collected protagonist suddenly grabs a kitchen knife and stabs her calm, cool and collected husband. Because one of the annoying things about readers is that they also have unconscious rules for your characters. And one of them certainly is that what they do has to make sense in the context of the personalities you have already established for them.

Otherwise, the reader will find the action puzzling, erratic, and even unbelievable. And if so, you kick them out of the continuous dream you’re trying to create.

Creating surprising/fresh stories

Now, I’m not trying to suggest that your characters can’t or shouldn’t do surprising things. Not at all. But they can’t come out of the blue. One of the most convincing ways to do that, I find, is to imbed clues in your narrative which might not be noticeable to the reader. Then when the character does something startling, the reader should be able to remember those non-obvious moments so that you can retain the element of surprise while still making it consistent with the traits established thus far.

I know that’s a bit wordy but here’s an example.

The spouse of an abusive husband seems to just take it and even, in that sickening but common tendency, does all she can to please him. A friend comes over when she is doing the dishes. The friend urges her to leave him but she maintains she loves him. Right about then, she drops a plate which breaks. You might have the wife be terrified of her husband’s reaction to mask this clue.

Later, the wife notices that her husband’s suit jacket is split at the back. She widens it. He makes an important presentation without realizing the problem. He returns, boasting of how well it went. That evening, she quietly repairs the jacket and rehangs it.

So, if she eventually stabs her husband, while it might be surprising, it doesn’t come out of the blue nor would it seem unbelievable.

A unique perspective which keeps your writing fresh doesn’t mean erratic.

A final note

The problem with writing is that there are almost always exceptions to prove the rule. While generally, readers expect continuity in the story, techniques such as stream of consciousness have worked, James Joyce’s Ulysses being an oft-cited example. The movie Moulin Rouge starring Nicole Kidman is another example where a coherent story is lacking and it totally works. That’s writing for you.

I Hate Downton Abbey

Downton

I Hate Downton Abbey

I know I lay myself open for a lot of hate mail by declaring my dislike of Downton Abby. But you can’t accuse me of just watching one program and writing it off. Nope, I watched every season.

Why?

Self-defence. Invariably, someone would ask, “Did you see Downton Abbey last night?” If I said ‘no’, I invariably got a retelling of the whole program in excruciating detail. So I watched and developed my stock answer: Yes, wonderful setting. Yes, great costumes. Good acting, too.

All of which was true. But I still hated it.

Why do I hate Downton Abbey?

Let me give you an example from the first season. So the heir to the estate shows up. The oldest girl of the family resists falling in love with him, but eventually succumbs. There is a scene of them dancing together to establish it. One wrinkle—the heir is already engaged to someone else and she sees them waltzing.

Right at that moment, I knew the fiancée was toast. And sure enough, she conveniently dies of influenza shortly thereafter, paving the way for True Love.

The whole series had that quality. When a character stood in the way of the advancement of the story, a convenient accident or death whisked him or her out of the way. It was like watching a train barrelling across a prairie towards you and then being asked to be surprised when you had to jump out of the way.

In short, Downton Abbey was predictable.

Isn’t predictability good?

Okay, I’m not saying that predictability is totally and invariably unacceptable. Take mystery novels. As I’ve pointed out in a previous post, they have a well-accepted format which readers expect and enjoy. Murder, suspect, detective, resolution. Same for Harlequin romances. Poor but worthy girl falls for virile but flawed male after series of tribulations.

And I don’t wish to imply that some authors aren’t very inventive in sticking to the expected while still weaving an enjoyable story around it. (Okay, maybe I’m just talking about mysteries.)

But where there is not a well-established path, where you aren’t supposed to know where the story is going—i.e., the rest of fiction—too much predictability is boring.

What should we be aiming for?

Fighting predictability is a constant battle. It’s not that you are aiming for it, but it is often the easy way out of a writing predicament. If your characters have become stock, then when the villain makes a choice, it takes little effort to have him act more evil than possibly explore some other option.

Even when you are striving for more nuanced characters, it is so alluring to have them act in predictable ways. The concerned mother, the feckless teenager, the embittered old man. These tropes aren’t bad in and of themselves, but good fiction aims to help the reader see the world in way he hadn’t before. Not with alien landscapes necessarily, but more with a perspective or insight which is new.

It’s harder to do that if you are using tried and true actions, feelings, or values from tried and true characters. Next post: Avoiding Predictability.

Does my Ending Work?

ending

Does my Ending Work?

What ending you choose for your novel can make or break it. And where it should end. This post is about whether the ending you have written works.

Now, whether it works is to some extent in the eye of the beholder, so take everything I say with a grain of salt. Your finale may not work according to this post but does according to your readers. Go with your readers. These are only guidelines.

Ending types

Although types of endings can be parsed in many ways, I am going to concentrate on two.

Inevitability

I certainly know the feeling. I’m coming to the end of the novel. I know the hero is going to get his comeuppance but I’m dreading it. I want him to succeed even though I know that everything is stacked against him. I’m yelling at the page, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it!” But he does and suffers the fate I feared for him.

With this type of story, even though you may not be happy with the ending, it is nevertheless satisfying and feels correct.

Surprise

The opposite but equally satisfying ending is unexpected for the reader. The story proceeds so that the reader thinks she knows where things are going. And then the conclusion is not what was anticipated.

For this ending to work, the novel has to be constructed so that the hero’s startling choice makes sense. That is, there have to be clues throughout the novel that he might choose the unexpected path but you have cleverly disguised them so that the reader doesn’t notice them while reading.

If you don’t do that, you run the risk of your reader tossing the whole book because the ending seems to come out of the blue and therefore is not credible. Establishing once again that Fiction is Not Life.

What doesn’t usually work

Deus ex machina

It literally means a god from a machine since plays in Ancient Greece used a crane to create the illusion of the gods descending from the heavens (did you really want to know this?). Anyhow, in present day fiction, it means an unexpected event which saves a hopeless situation. Your hero has to choose between his fiancée and the woman he is falling in love with (yes, Downton Abbey). Luckily, the fiancée gets the Spanish flu and is carried off by it. You can just see that crane yanking the fiancée out of the picture.

Seeing it coming from a mile away

On the one hand, with inevitability endings, you want the increasing doom (usually doom—happy is different—see below) to build over the course of the novel. Each action the hero takes pushes him down the inexorable path. On the other hand, you need to tread a fine line. Inevitability becomes boring and predictable and not worth reading if the reader can forecast the ending half-way through. You need to build tension without hitting the reader over the head with what’s coming. Not easy.

Happily ever after

I’m sorry, but as I pointed out previously, happy endings have rather fallen out of literary favor. I’m not saying it’s right but there you are. If the prince proposes to the surprised young thing and they live happily ever after—it’s all too pat for the modern reader. If you really really want a happy ending, you’d probably be better off trying to write a happy ending with a surprise finish. Give it a try but don’t say I didn’t tell you.

Will the Ship Sink? Creating Tension

tension

Will the Ship Sink? Creating Tension

I know a writing book showed me a way to create tension but I can’t remember which one. But I pass the tip on anyway. To wit: every scene in a novel has to end with a question whose answer might imperil or impede the hero’s success (my definition). Doesn’t have to be a big question or an astounding solution. Just has to be one. This unknown writing book author’s capsule phrase was will the ship sink?

An example

You can do a story and not have any tension. Consider this.

Your heroine is climbing a mountain with progressively more challenging ascents.

First slope: No problem. She is enjoying herself.

Second: Also no problem although it is much steeper than the first.

Third: Almost loses her balance but recovers and continues upward.

Fourth: She makes it to the top

Honestly, it’s a story—I’m not saying a good one—but things happen and she achieves her goal. Soooo boring.

Will the ship sink?

Let’s do this again, introducing a little tension. I am keeping the original ending.

First slope: She enjoys it for the first twenty minutes. But is getting winded. The second ascent will be much steeper.

Can she climb the next section?

No: She goes back, humiliation, etc.

Yes: She gathers strength and presses on

Second: Her legs are tired and starting to shake. She tries to use her handpick for purchase but can’t break through the rock.

Will she collapse?

No: She gets a toe-hold in a crevice and catches her breath

Yes: She can’t move

Third: She crawls to the base of the third slope. She forces herself to stand. And feels herself going over backwards.

Will she fall?

No: A boulder stops her fall. She gets back on the trail

Yes: She tumbles down to the bottom of the slope

Fourth: She makes it to the top

It retards the action to pars each scene as I’ve done but I hope it shows that adding a question (however unspoken) heightens the tension for the reader and therefore the impetus to keep reading.

Tips for tension

Every scene

We of course want tension as the climax builds to the end of your novel, but at the end of each scene is also helpful. Not always possible to do, admittedly. But probably more possible than you might think.

At the end of the scene

In the original example, the path gets steeper and she almost loses her balance. These could will-the-ship-sink moments but are resolved within the scene. So they don’t impel the reader forward.

More possibilities

Building in tension can open up the story. What happens if she can’t ascend the first slope? Different story but interesting possibility. Does she go home, defeated? Or does she vow to train and come back?

Negative outcomes create more tension

Generally speaking, the story is more exciting if each scene has a negative outcome for the protagonist. More tension. More pulling of the reader along. It can also take you into unexpected territory, not where you expected to go with the story. And that can be fun for you.

So, will the ship sink?