Category Archives: Qualities of Good Fiction

About the Blurred Line

04 Wednesday May 2016

Posted by in Qualities of Good Fiction, Role of the Writer

≈ 2 Comments

I’m going to get a bit academic on you here. Bear with me. The post is only 433 words (including the footnotes and the title), so I suppose I’ll not try your patience too greatly.

Like you, I am often amazed at the length and breadth of a novel. Take a book like “All the Light We Cannot See” by Anthony Doerr. What a sweeping achievement. The characters, the great sense of place, the language – as readers we are in awe that the author has written such a wonderful, super-long story.

But this is an illusion.

As practicing writers we know something about such a book that the average reader doesn’t realize. This novel is not a single super-long story. It is a collection of related short-stories that are strung together, crafted in such a way that they read within one massive arc.
In fact no novel is one long story. A novel is always a litter of small pieces joined together so that they stand as a whole.

It is for this reason that there is so much discussion (in writing circles, of course, not in the real world) about the blurred line between a collection of short stories and a novel. Take a look at “Jesus’ Son” by Dennis Johnson, or “Kentucky Straight” by Chris Offutt, or “American Salvage” by Bonnie Jo Campbell. These are commonly considered short story collections. However, the case can easily be made that these are novels. The stories in each carry a similar weight, the setting is in focus throughout, and the voice is distinctive*. We soon see that such distinctions serve the Marketing Department far more than the reader.

Here’s the take-away. Don’t get caught up in a tug-o-war with yourself or anyone else about whether you’re writing a novel or a collection of short-stories. Focus on the writing. Let the material on the page decide what it will be.
And if you’re really successful the Marketing Team will argue the point for you.

*The trend toward short chapters in long books – even the titling of each chapter – as Doerr has done, continues to fuel the fire of this distinction. Other than the character development spanning the entire book (although this is seen in “short-story collections” too – see Tim O’Brien’s “The Things They Carried”), this book is perhaps the best example I’ve seen recently of the blurring between these two genres from a traditional novel perspective.

Note: This post is again the result of a conversation with Ben H. Winters, at LePeeps, of 71st St. in Indianapolis, 10 March 2016.

Backstory Isn’t Story

20 Wednesday Apr 2016

Posted by in Character in Fiction, Contract with the Reader, Qualities of Good Fiction

≈ Leave a comment

You will try to make your reader care about the character you’ve created. You’ll do this by telling your reader all about the character’s background, family, where he lives, his personality, clothing, job, and who knows what else. You’ll lay all of this out for your reader in great detail. You’ll do this at the top of the first page. You’ll do this before you tell them the story. You’ll do this because they have to know. They have to know all of this before they can appreciate what you have to tell them.

Go ahead. Do this. Tell them all of it.

Now, delete it.

There. You’ve gotten that out of your system.

Now start again. Show the reader your character in the heat of the moment, dealing with conflict, caught in the middle of some action. Do this starting in the first sentence.
Do this well and your reader will care about the character you’ve created while knowing nothing else.

How do we know that this is true? We know because before we were writers we were readers. And this is why we care about characters. This is why we’ve cared about characters for years.

If you still want proof, go to the library and check out Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men.
You’ll meet Llewelyn Moss at the top of page one hunting antelope. It will not be until page 20 that you’ll find out he lives in a trailer with a woman. And even then you won’t know anything else, except they aren’t part of the social elite and Moss isn’t a sissy. On page 12 Moss will find a bunch of dead guys and on page 17 he will find another dead guy and a bag full of cash. And this stuff matters. It matters because back on page one, during the hunt, you started caring about this guy. You didn’t start caring on page 20.

As Ben H. Winters said over lunch on March 10, 2016 at LePeep’s on 71st St. in Indianapolis – always put backstory in later, and if possible, never.

Simple and Concrete VS. Layered and Abstract

09 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by in Qualities of Good Fiction

≈ Leave a comment

Simple and concrete is the goal. This is where good writing lives. Layered and abstract is what most beginning writers produce. Layered and abstract is a pothole many experienced writers fall into. We think this is what will wow the reader. What we fail to realize is that layered and abstract will get in the reader’s way. It will veil the meaning. It will wake the reader from their dream.
Here are a couple of examples from my own writing. The first example in each pair is layered and abstract. The second example is simple and concrete:

“Yes,” I said, “I suppose I am hungry.”
“Yes,” I said, “I am hungry.”

“I thought about how I’d like to talk to this Maker. How I’d like to get some answers about all of this.”
“I’d like to talk to this maker, I thought. I’d like to get some answers.”

The difference is striking. Notice how the language that has been removed is meaningless and useless? It is obvious when you see it. With the first examples I thought I was adding meaning, being introspective and sensitive – I thought I was adding character depth. I wasn’t. I was infusing clutter into a perfectly straight-forward statement.
This difference, if carefully understood and then detected and ruthlessly uprooted from your writing, will leap your work forward toward being quality prose.

*Thank you, Ben H. Winters for phrasing the differences like this during one of our conversations.

What Great Writers Do

02 Wednesday Dec 2015

Posted by in Qualities of Good Fiction, Tim O'Brien

≈ Leave a comment

This is what great writers do. They think deeply and critically about the human condition and they come up with a great idea for a story, such a great idea that they are possessed by it and the act of writing it carries them, like a rushing current, until they’ve produced a landmark work that we all read in enlightened amazement.
Not true. This is NOT what great writers do. This a myth.
Late last month there was an article in Time Magazine celebrating the 25th anniversary of Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried*. On display was a page with O’Brien’s hand-written edits. In looking over that page I saw once again what I learned some time ago – the writer’s skill is not in coming up with a great story, the writer’s skill is in telling us what we already know in a new and interesting way.
The Things They Carried is a war novel^. There have been many war novels – even great war novels. It has been said that the first American war novel was Stephen Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage, a novel of the civil war. O’Brien’s landmark accomplishment was not in writing a great war novel. That had been done – many times. What makes The Things They Carried the book that it is is in how O’Brien goes about pulling us into the Vietnam War. He loops his forearm around our necks and yanks our heads down into the grit; he makes us look very closely at what is happening.
So, stop wandering around trying to come up with a great and original idea for a story.
Stop wasting your time. Instead, give us the most familiar anew.

*http://time.com/4118713/things-they-carried-manuscript/#4118713/things-they-carried-manuscript/

^You might call it a short story collection. The line between the two is too thin to warrant debate.

A Round-up…of Facts about the Daily Effort of Writing Fiction

15 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by in Creative Process/Craft, Qualities of Good Fiction, Writing Discipline

≈ Leave a comment

If after a few attempts a particular sentence or section is not working, delete it. Following this maxim has never let me down. The remaining text has never suffered in the absence of the troubling material.

Good writing only comes of bad writing. There is no shortcut to successful prose. Thinking, outlining, discussing, researching, scheduling, obtaining instruction – these are all necessary, but they don’t result in functional paragraphs on a page. Only through writing do we arrive at a draft manuscript. Bad writing is not something to be avoided. It is something to be accomplished with the knowledge that it is the gateway to good writing.

Try writing from a challenging POV*. I recently wrote a short short story (flash fiction) from the perspective of a character that dies half-way through the narrative. And then I maintained that POV for the rest of the story. No POV should be considered off-limits. Such decisions often lead to more imaginative story because they cause the writer to think differently.
Especially try this if a story is coming off flat.

Action is the result of character A trying to get something from character B that character B doesn’t want to give up. It doesn’t have to be a big thing; it just has to be some thing. In order for there to be action there must be reaction. Agreement between characters is not action and won’t result in story – no matter how interesting the agreement might be.

*Point of View – the perspective from which the story is being revealed. Might be a character or a narrator. Might be 1st or 3rd person, close or omniscient, etc.

Two Facts

22 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by in Qualities of Good Fiction

≈ Leave a comment

Two facts about life:
When people walk into our lives they don’t hand us a piece of paper or wear a t-shirt that tells us about themselves – where they’re from, what kind of food they like, how big a house they live in, their sense of humor. No, we learn this from what they say and do. We learn this from interacting with them and watching them interact with others. We learn these discrete details about them in context, either from what they say or how they say it. We learn these things from dialogue and action.
People also walk into our lives in the middle of everything. They enter while we’re doing life. We don’t get all sorts of context and backstory as we live life in all its aspects. We simply walk in. And everyone else simply walks in. Over time we take the parts and begin to constitute a picture.
Two facts about good fiction:
Good fiction reflects life. Good fiction doesn’t introduce characters to the reader. It doesn’t pause and tell the reader all about someone as they appear on the page. There is an ancient statement about writing fiction – “show don’t tell.” This is true for characters as well. Your reader should experience and learn about a character just as they would in life. It is important that you let what the character says and does define them. This is one key way you can allow the reader into the story.
Good fiction also opens a story in medias res – in the midst of things. There is again no need to inform the reader of anything. Let the scene start and the reader will accept the bits and pieces and will complete the picture for themselves. Your job is to simply provide compelling, unique bits and pieces coupled with conflict.

Fixing Dialogue – Part 2

08 Wednesday Apr 2015

Posted by in Qualities of Good Fiction

≈ Leave a comment

Another thing* that can happen is lifeless dialogue. This is easily identified. It is happening when characters sit around and talk about what is going on, when characters simply agree with each other or say things any character might say in any story, perhaps even using cliché. Here’s an example:

“Good morning, Bob, how are you today?”
“Doing great. I am so glad it’s Friday.”
“Me too. I could use a couple of Fridays a week, couldn’t you?”
“I sure could. Hey, by the way, can you believe how Julie called Tim out in the meeting last afternoon?”
“I was stunned. If she ever spoke to me like that in front of the team I’d come unglued.”
“You aren’t kidding! I’d ask her to step out in the hall and I’d let her have a piece of my mind.”

This can be deceiving. It can seem like the ratcheting up of emotion is action or conflict, but it isn’t. It is really only two characters talking about the conflict or action. There is no action on the page and the characters aren’t developing. In fact, what they are talking about – the scene that occurred in the meeting – is what we really wish the writer would write! THAT would be interesting!
I don’t have an alternative example for you on this one. The best thing you can do to fix this patch of dialogue is delete it and write the action and conflict these guys are commenting upon.
There are three options: seduction, combat, and negotiation. Dialogue needs to be doing one of these things. If it isn’t it is probably lifeless and needs to be cut.

And remember, you came to your writing life already knowing how to do this.

*See the blog post “Fixing Dialogue – Part 1”

Fixing Dialogue – Part 1

25 Wednesday Mar 2015

Posted by in Qualities of Good Fiction

≈ Leave a comment

Remember when you were a child and you played with stuffed animals, army men, or Barbie dolls? There was one thing you always did with these toys – you made them talk to each other. You had them chat it up or even argue with each other. You did this spontaneously, mocking whatever conversation you’d most recently heard. This a universal childhood experience.
Why do most beginning writers struggle to write functioning dialogue?

There are a couple of things that can cause dialogue to fall down. One is stilted dialogue. This dialogue sounds like lines were written for a character to deliver. Such dialogue is easily identified when everything a character says is in a full sentence and every detail that might be in the character’s head – their motivations and emotions are all spelled out.

Here’s an example:
“Hello, Mr. Henderson, I am Officer Jackson of the Danville Police Department. I need to ask you a few questions, if I may?”
“I don’t really want to be bothered with questions right now, I have just suffered a personal tragedy, but I suppose I’ll put up with a few questions as long as it doesn’t take too long.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it. It makes my job a lot easier when folks simply allow me to take their statements. Do you remember where you were earlier this evening before you headed home?”
“Yes I do. My wife and I were at dinner. She ordered chicken and I ordered fish. The service was slow, but we go to Frank and Mary’s all the time, so we’re used to it.”

There are several actions you can take to correct dialogue like this: read the dialogue aloud, write more drafts using your delete key liberally, listen to conversations that are happening around you and become a student of how people speak to each other. Eavesdrop at Starbucks. Jot down bits of dialogue that you hear. This is a lot of fun and will build your skill. Your reader will best learn what your character is thinking through good dialogue, not by having the character (you) tell them.

Here’s how this dialogue might start to look after you’ve taken a few of these steps:
“Mr. Henderson, I’m sorry sir, I just need to ask a few questions.”
The old man looked at the small steel name bar on the cop’s chest. C. Jackson. “OK.”
“Do you remember where you were earlier this evening before you headed home?”
“Dinner. At Frank and Mary’s. It’s catfish night.”

[Continued in Fixing Dialogue – Part 2]

If Your Story is Not Compelling

11 Wednesday Mar 2015

Posted by in Qualities of Good Fiction

≈ 1 Comment

If your story is not compelling to the reader you should delete it and move on to one that is.
Here are five questions I’ve collected that you can ask of your story to determine if it will pull the reader in:

1. What is the big problem?
There must be something your character has to deal with. “One big 300-page problem.”* If your protagonist has several small issues nibbling at her, remove them all and create one big one. Perhaps one that appears insurmountable. A bunch of small to medium annoyances might reflect real life, but does not make good story.
2. What does this main character want?
Luckily you know the answer to this now that you’ve answered #1 above. It should be clear to your reader that they want to solve/avoid/control/eliminate the big problem.
3. How many drafts have you written?
It takes about 10 drafts maybe 11 to get a story down. Then there are more. About two more drafts are needed to tighten the voice (usually) by deleting extra words so that the ones left carry the weight.
4. Are you minding the story over the language?
Do you have beautiful language, charming characters, and settings in terrific detail demonstrating a command of vocabulary and flourish that will make your readers’ heads spin? Beginning writers are really good at creating prose that has no energy. These stories often have no clear answer to questions 1 & 2. These stories are usually a result of #3. If there is any possibility of the reader misunderstanding or misinterpreting the meaning of a sentence, fix it. Simplify the language so that this is not a possibility.
5. Are you at any point informing the reader?
Does your story have flashbacks, summaries of meaning, more than 50-word passages of description or explanation? Root these out. “Flashbacks are always a bad idea. They are fundamentally and inherently a bad idea. They are a dramatic crutch. The way to resolve this perceived need is to move ahead in the story. Flashbacks are for writers who are too lazy to work details into the action. It is never permissible to inform the reader of anything.”^

* To quote Dan Barden. Of course if you’re writing a short-story, one big 10 or 20-page problem.
^ Ibid

Don’t try to be a better writer than you need to be.

11 Wednesday Feb 2015

Posted by in Creative Process/Craft, Qualities of Good Fiction

≈ Leave a comment

I am currently in a workshop with Dan Barden. Here is one thing Dan said last week: “Don’t try to be a better writer than you need to be.” That is an important statement. Let me break it down for you as Dan did for us.

This statement is about Voice & Style. Less experienced writers of fiction believe that they need to “find their voice” and “develop a style”. This is because we read writers we deeply respect (the example Dan used was David Foster Wallace, an example I’d use is Ha Jin) and we are in awe of their way of writing. All you need to do is read the blurbs on a novel to see the critics commenting on this “…a suppleness of style, and a subtlety of vision…” The reality that the unexperienced writer needs to grasp is that their voice – the one they use every day – is good enough! The style their favorite writers employ isn’t a style, it is the way they think! Concerns of voice and style are in fact concerns of the critic, not concerns of the writer.

This statement is about Clarity. Less experienced writers believe that simply telling a story in their own words is not good enough. They think they need to write to some higher, imagined level. Clarity trumps beautiful writing all day, every day. Just tell us the story. If your reader detects any ambiguity in what your prose means you are at risk. If your reader is confused by what you write, all is lost. Your reader will not re-read to gain understanding. They will put your work down and move on never to return. Aim for a seventh grade reading level in your story-telling. Then aim for fifth grade and you’ll be in great shape.

This statement is about Ego. As writers we want to create a gorgeous work of heartbreak and wonder. When we write simple sentences with straightforward meaning we think the result is bland, boring, and flat. We see our work as lacking. Our ego isn’t satisfied. Our ego has higher expectations than our readers. Our egos think that ornate, mysterious, and complex are higher aesthetics than simple, realistic, and plain. Our egos don’t think stories can come from such places. Our egos are wrong. The fact is that ornate, mysterious, and complex are inventions of the mind when consuming fiction. They are not the stuff of stories being told. The action of story is only fact laid bare. It is the reader that will consume the raw story and it is the reader that will create, from the experience of reading, the ornate, mysterious, and complex.