Category Archives: Contract with the Reader

When Writing Upstages Story

16 Wednesday Nov 2022

Posted by in Contract with the Reader, Creative Process/Craft, Technicalities

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Upstage is a theater term. This is when one actor over-acts and pulls the attention of the audience to himself––regardless of the intended focus of the script or the play. This is a selfish move, one meant to highlight the actor and his skill at the cost of the other elements of the play. Upstaging is bad acting and can be either intentional or unintentional. Upstaging is always spotted by the audience. It pulls them out of the viewing experience and results in a failed scene.

Because we are writers and writing is what delights us, there is a tendency, especially among newer writers, to allow the writing to upstage the story––to make the writing the product we’re seeking to produce vs. the story and the reader’s experience of it. This is a type of author intrusion. Such writing is characterized by overly complex language, over-use of modifiers (adjectives, similes, etc.), and awkward, unwieldy sentences. What readers say when they read this kind of writing is ‘I tried. I just couldn’t get into the story.’ A failed scene.

If your writing is trying to accomplish anything other than a lasting reader experience, refocus the work. No reader is going to come to your work for the purpose of consuming beautiful words and marveling at your skill. Readers read for the intoxication story offers. And it’s your job to enable them to do so.

The Beholder’s Share*

06 Wednesday Oct 2021

Posted by in Contract with the Reader, Creative Process/Craft, Qualities of Good Fiction

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The idea is this: part of the meaning or significance of a work of art is provided by the viewer. The viewer of the work, by the act of consuming the work, is granted a share of the art’s intent. There is a creative co-op that occurs between the artist and the audience.

In the Westside Writers Workshop, the writing workshop I facilitate, we have begun to use this term when we speak of our written work. We ask ourselves, what is the beholder’s share? How will a reader engage with this piece of writing? What will they take away from it, what will they make their own? How does the writing leave room for the reader to engage?

Creative writing may be started, but it isn’t finished in solitude. A written story is finished in public, out in the wild, where readers take it in, internalize, and share in it. This is when the work is finished, when it has found harbor with a reader. Readers complete books. Readers complete stories. 

*‘The beholder’s share’ is a term from the art world. Coined by Austrian art historian Alois Riegl and popularized by another Austrian-born, British art historian, Ernst Gombrich.

Reading at Speakeasy

22 Wednesday Sep 2021

Posted by in Contract with the Reader, Writing Life

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Last Thursday evening here in Danville, Indiana, Speakeasy Books and More held their inaugural reading, and I was privileged to be one the four authors who read. There were thirty or forty readers who stopped in to listen and to chat afterward. Celebrating this new indie bookstore and the power of story, in a live environment, was oxygen. Thank you to the readers who attended and made this happen. 

There is an axiom among writers, “readers finish books.” This means a reader completes a book by translating it into their imagination and integrating it into their personal experience. A book isn’t meeting its potential except when it’s being read. 

This is doubly true at a live reading. Readers turned listeners, gather to hear an author read, and become a creative jury. They listen to and judge the story—it’s truth laid bare for their consideration. The story is brought before the public square and when readers engage with the author, it becomes a collaboration like none other. The story is finished in these moments.

Until just three or four hundred years ago, when European readers began to read silently to themselves, reading aloud was the primary way in which writing was consumed. Readers (author or reader) read writing aloud. This was a social activity, it was the way reading happened––just as it did Thursday evening at Speakeasy.

For this writer, few aspects of the writing life bring more joy than spending an evening with readers maintaining this ancient tradition.

Fist

11 Wednesday Aug 2021

Posted by in Contract with the Reader, Creative Process/Craft, Reading as a Writer

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It has happened twice now, toward the end of the final draft of a project. There it is, a glaring typo discovered at the beginning of the story. A typo that has been there all along––or at least for several drafts––but completely overlooked.

We were very close to finalizing the galleys of The Confessions of Adam when it was discovered, in the first chapter, instead of referencing the trunk of a landmark tree, there was referenced a tree truck.

And once again, just a few weeks ago, a beta reader, at this late stage in my current project, found––in the preface–– that the word first had been written as fist.

The point here is you must engage beta readers and editors. Both of these were found by such collaborators. Neither was found by me, my publisher or my agent. And in the case of Confessions, most had poured over the manuscript, some of us many, many times.

Being the author, you will become utterly blind to such errors. Your brain will determine what is on the page instead of your eyes. Your only hope is collaboration with others before your manuscript is out in the wild and such mistakes are found by readers. For readers miss nothing.

If You’re Bored

30 Wednesday Jun 2021

Posted by in Contract with the Reader, Creative Process/Craft, Role of the Writer, Writing Discipline

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If you’re bored, no…if you’re not thoroughly riveted by the piece you’re writing, it’s not ready for a reader. And until this criteria is met, it never will be.

If you're not thoroughly riveted by the piece you're writing, it's not ready for a reader. Click To Tweet

In my 2 June post I wrote about a different situation––one in which the writer has a pair of contrasting positive emotions about the piece s/he is creating. But here I’m speaking to when the project, no matter how much you’ve tried, holds no interest for you. The material doesn’t draw you in. The project is utterly failing to take on a life of its own.

So what to do?

Option #1: Narrow the Scope

There’s likely something that brought you to the project to begin with, some nugget, some core. Go and reimagine the project based on that core. What brought you to the project? Perhaps what has happened is you’ve lost that initial excitement as you’ve sought to develop the story and it’s become diluted, cluttered, overgrown. Find that core, narrow the scope to only that core, and start again.

Option #2: Abandon the Project

You may have to abandon the work. Recognize that this is not about you, your work ethic, or your ability to finish. This is about the work. The work either functions or it doesn’t. And you don’t have time to focus on work that isn’t begging you to.

In the end, you are writing for a reader. The first step in gaining a reader’s trust starts long before you encounter them. You must write work that pulls you to the edge of your creative seat, work that grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go. Anything less is not worth your precious time. And won’t be worth your reader’s precious time either.

Percy’s Six Elements of Story: Ticking Clock

27 Wednesday Jan 2021

Posted by in Benjamin Percy, Contract with the Reader, Qualities of Good Fiction, Role of the Writer, Technicalities

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[This is the fifth in a series of six posts started on December 2, 2020. We’re exploring Benjamin Percy’s foundational elements of story as found in the opening of his book Thrill Me: Essays on Fiction.]

Ticking Clock

Your story is really starting to come together. You’ve established the narrative goal. Your protagonist is acting with unwavering urgency, meeting obstacles that are building her resolve, and creating tension for your reader. You’ve also got most of the lower-order goals in each scene working as well.

Your main character is already fully motivated. What will adding a ticking clock do for your story?

It will bring to the forefront that reality with which we all live––there is only so much time. The narrative goal, if not accomplished in time, will result in even greater angst for your protagonist. Perhaps this ticking clock is driven by some aspect of place or setting, perhaps it’s driven by an ever-closer approaching antagonist, or even by some simmering character trait of the protagonist himself.  

A ticking clock will get your reader’s heart racing, it’ll pull your reader down into the story like little else can. Time is an element you must manage in your story, regardless. Why not manage it in a way that will cause your reader to––quick––hurry––turn the page?!

Percy’s Six Elements of Story: Create Lower-Order Goals

13 Wednesday Jan 2021

Posted by in Benjamin Percy, Contract with the Reader, Creative Process/Craft, Qualities of Good Fiction

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[This is the fourth in a series of six posts started on December 2, 2020. We’re exploring Benjamin Percy’s foundational elements of story as found in the opening of his book Thrill Me: Essays on Fiction.]

Create Lower-Order Goals

So, you have the narrative goal and a protagonist with the unwavering urgency to pursue that over-arching goal. You have laid out the obstacles that will hinder this character all along the way and create tension. The next concern is building the scenes that will form the overall story. 

Scenes can be thought of as mini-stories. Each scene moves the protagonist along in their quest. The best scenes have a goal, what Percy calls a lower-order goal, that propels that particular scene forward under the overall arc of the story. Just as the human urgency speaks to the DNA of the protagonist, these lower-order goals should as well. These goals should not only provide momentum but also develop the character, be integrated with what they say and do, and deepen the setting as well. Of course, the primary concern in this is your reader. Bring your reader along with pace and tone that creates the certainty––the certainty they will turn the page.

Percy’s Six Elements of Story: Create Obstacles that Ramp Up Tension

30 Wednesday Dec 2020

Posted by in Benjamin Percy, Contract with the Reader, Creative Process/Craft, Technicalities

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[This is the third in a series of six posts started on December 2, 2020. We’re exploring Benjamin Percy’s foundational elements of story as found in the opening of his book Thrill Me: Essays on Fiction.]

Create Obstacles that Ramp Up Tension

So, you have the narrative goal and a character with the unwavering urgency to pursue that goal. If the character pursues and achieves their goal unhindered, there is no story. There is no action. There is no change in the character and there’s nothing to draw a reader in. 

Instead, what must happen as the character unwaveringly pursues his/her goal? Bad things. And a lot of them. The more bad things and the worse they are, the better. We don’t want to simply pile on tragedy. This will create pity. Instead, with each obstacle, the character is shocked, processes, and regroups—renewing their resolve in the pursuit of the narrative goal.

This is why novels are set in wars—All the Light We Cannot See—or amidst deep societal and familial ideals and decorum—Blessings—or on the edge of apocalyptic events—Station Eleven. In these scenarios there are plenty of narrative goals, human urgency, and assured obstacles which create conflict and result in tension. Story will occur. The reader will be thrilled.

A Blind Man in a Textile Shop

21 Wednesday Oct 2020

Posted by in Contract with the Reader, Creative Process/Craft, Role of the Writer, Writing Life

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Perhaps this is an illness of all creative writers. Perhaps it’s an illness with which I alone suffer. In either case, I am constantly seeking the perfect metaphor to describe the craft of making fiction––language to best describe the way it feels to write.

Today I believe I hit on one that comes very close to satisfying my search. It describes well the process, the act of writing, the work of finding your way as you place word after word, laying narrative onto paper, story onto screen.

Writing fiction is like being a blind man in a textile shop.

So often, I am guided by my gut, that invisible monitor and detector of aesthetic, rather than by the words my eyes read or the rationale divvied out by my conscious self. Today, while working on my current novel-in-progress I felt suddenly as if my sight had gone dark and I was reaching, feeling the text to see if it had the right hand––as those in the textile business call it. I felt that there was a sensor in my core that had taken over and was weighing the words, worrying them for accuracy. It was physical, yes, but ultimately intuition was judge. The text had to feel right, create a sensation when held.

Writing fiction is like being a blind man in a textile shop. 

Yes, at least for today this metaphor will do.

First Book Club

26 Wednesday Aug 2020

Posted by in Contract with the Reader, Debut Novel, Role of the Writer, Writing Life

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On Saturday evening, August 29th, I will attend my first book club where The Confessions of Adam has been read and will be discussed. I’ve been invited to come and talk about my debut novel. These readers aren’t rookies. They’ve met monthly, enjoyed dinner, and read books together for over two decades.

As I prepare for the conversation, I’m pulling my notes from research, considering what I might read if asked, and gathering a few extra books, bookmarks, and author cards. But what I know is this––what I bring to this group of thoughtful readers will pale in comparison to what they will give me. They have taken the time to read my novel and I will receive an hour of reader insight––listening in as readers talk about their experiences with my book. Such conversation is invaluable as I work on my next manuscript. Such feedback informs and educates a writer like none other can. It’s a rare opportunity for which I am grateful.