Controlling the Narrative - ***Adult content Warning ***

First and foremost, here's a warning about adult content! Don't go deeper if you don't want to!


There are two ways of writing a narrative!

Bold statement indeed. Please follow...

In the first, the writer is not holding anything back. And I don't mean they're avoiding maintaining suspense. I mean, their story is unfolding with a clearly established scene involving a couple of characters who are immediately set in the reader's mind, and whose dialogue / action is clearly visualised and understood.

Now then, there is a second way of writing... and is favoured by some brave souls when opening a story. An opening such as mine - one in which I am attempting to deliver myself whilst being brave but possibly without the nous to pull it off.

This second way involves the development of a feeling of senses or style rather than immediate understanding. It's meant to bring along the narrative but does so in a way that is trying smoothly to deliver an experience instead of simply stating: "Here we are, this is what we're doing".

Still with me?

Okay, imagine this... or rather, read it:

At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man came in, for she had never seen one before; but-

Rapunzel withdrew as the Prince leapt in from the window, forcing the awkward placement of his rapier to the side. His circlet of gold shone in the sun’s heavenly light and yet Rapunzel felt ill at ease from his arrival. The jut of his codpiece was unnatural; unnecessary and distracting. His face lacked, like the Old Witch, all feminine charm. But he might have seemed easy to behold, appealing even, had it not been for the intensity of his gaze; Adam regarding Eve for the first time. What could he want with her? What were his intentions?

-the Prince spoke to her so kindly, and told her at once that his heart had been so touched by her singing, that-

A strange sensation akin to nausea (but not so repulsive) bloomed within...

Here we have the opening of my latest work (after the preface you have already read, of course). In it we have two narratives that relate directly to one another.

1. The words from the fairy tale "Rapunzel" - begun mid-story - and pasted exactly as the Brothers Grimm intended. This is a narrator's voice, no?
   
2. My own narration of Rapunzel's meeting with the Prince, after he climbs up her golden tresses.

Is that easy to follow? I'd imagine so.

Now then (this does relate to my previous post on dealing with questions as they arise in the reader's mind, BTW), the narrative swings back and forth between Brothers Grimm and myself for just over a page as the BG narration moves on unfalteringly, but my own narration places Rapunzel and the Prince in bed with each other.

But, I don't want to deal with the reader's question of: Well, why are we having to listen to the BG narrative as well? What's the point.

Because if I did so, it would ruin the effect I'm trying to create - an effect I'm hoping will lead the reader on rather than bore or confuse.

The problem arises that if the reader does become confused, then I, the writer am not controlling the narrative.

This is exaserbated when my narration swaps the third-person pov of Rapunzel and the Prince with the first-person pov of me... okay, well not, me! Per se:

-she put her hand in his and said: “Yes, I will gladly go with you, only how am I to get down out of the tower? Every time you come to see me you must bring a skein of silk with you, and -

He held her down with the heat of his body alone. And she, open to his advance, floated in that ruby sea and drew up its velvet waves in her fists, exclaiming her elation with a hoarse cry that roused the night dwellers of that great wood. Breathless, she could not be fulfilled.

-I will make a ladder of them, and when it is finished I will climb down by it, and you will take me away on your horse.” They arranged that till-

I spread myself beneath him, let him push against me. Felt the heat flushing from me, chest to neck to face, as I cried out. Again! Let him thrust. Take me! I wrapped my legs about his waist, let him deeper.

-the ladder was ready

Forgive me! I write like this under the lame pretense of literary wantonness. :)

So, while I'm lost to my own excesses I'm failing to keep the reader attuned. They get to the change in tense and think: "I've lost it! The narrator hasn't a clue, and neither do I. Why the double narrator? And why the change in tense? Is this a schizophrenic narrator?"

This is made worse when, half a page later, my narrator discusses a whole new scene while the BG narrators continue.

The fact is that literary curlicues and clever tricks require grounding so that the reader feels that they are being led by someone with a map and compass. Not someone who's going to take them through this field, turn about... look at the horizon for a clue about where they're going... you get my point.

So, in controlling my own narrative, the above passage can be changed to:

He held her down with the heat of his body alone. And she, open to his advance, floated in that ruby sea and drew up its velvet waves in her fists, exclaiming her elation with a hoarse cry that roused the night dwellers of that great wood. Breathless, she could not be fulfilled.

-I will make a ladder of them, and when it is finished I will climb down by it, and you will take me away on your horse.” They arranged that till-

I spread myself beneath him, let him push against me.

The two characters entwined atop Rapunzel’s tower were gone. They had suddenly, and without my wishing, escaped my day-dream. Replaced by Holden and myself. My much shorter braid was coiled above my head and the sun-starved body of the Germanic prince was now the chocolate colour of an African-English boy. I tried to hold that moment, tried to ignore Mr Gimli’s droning narrative, or the rest of my English List class who were listening idly along with me.

It felt insalubrious to have such thoughts in public but after the fire of imagination Rapunzel’s story had started within me, I couldn’t help myself. I could see Holden pause above me, pushed up on his arms so that we could regard each other, allowing me to run my palms over his chest. My hands so pale against his dark skin.

He came on again. I felt the heat flushing from me...

Does that make it clearer? As I said, I didn't want to have to break the effect I was creating, but I have a responsibility to the reader. I was going for the effect drawn by movies when a voice over narration continues over changing visuals - but of course, the visuals will speak for themselves. We'd see the characters change from Rapunzel and Prince to... err... "Rapunzel" and Holden.

But Why? When a Reader Asks Questions

[Don't leave the reader with too many questions]

When a reader sits down to read your manuscript (obviously once it's all been polished and reshaped into a rectangle box filled with yank-free toilet paper) they do so on the pretense of a good story.

However, the one way street we all so assume we're creating here. Listening to one of Peter's Pitch responses recently and also in a discussion I had last night with MG, it is clear that the act of reading is a one way experience certainly: the acceptance and absorption of story. However the total experience does not end with boredom, annoyance, tears, joy, or thrills.

There is a separate and entirely essential element: questioning.

Writers are constantly looking for ways to hook the reader, if it's not simply to get them to start reading, then it's to keep them reading, keep them thinking, keep them guessing. The easy genre for this to work in is mystery and crime: Who dunn'it, will the cops get the badguys? Will the detective rescue the heroine in time?

But, these are your standard quizzies - look closer, there are more important, more basic questions that pop up in a reader's head as you woo them with story. Questions whose answers - answered / ignored /alluded to but put off - may have a stronger bearing on whether or not the reader gives up.

In my latest attempt at a manuscript I've started very late in the plot's development. So much so that MG asked why would I do that, considering the important facets I was leaving behind and would therefore have to deal with in flashback - not a great dramatic tool (and remember we're trying to be dramatic to hold the reader's attention.

But then, I've taken the choice to unveil the flashback as a series of vignettes throughout the novel to force the reader into changing their view of a couple of characters. Let's hope that works.

In doing this what I'm essentially doing is making my reader have to deal with a lot of unexplained issues, background elements and character motivations that I may elude to but not wholeheartedly explain (for fear of giving the game away). I cannot, however, ignore the fact that as a reader reads, questions are raised, points of interest that they instinctively want dealt with so that they can file it and move on in the narrative.

If I avoid considering these questions, and then fail to answer them at the point in the narrative when the reader thinks of them, then I'm going annoy them. Certainly, I won't be deemed the authority on my own work and therefore why should the reader keep reading?

How many books have you read that failed to tie up certain niggling plot points - and you were happy about that? None. Because we want resolution, we want to know - it's the gossip in all of us, the need to understand the truth of the matter.

Same principle with those little questions, that wish for the author not to skip ahead while the reader is still dwelling on the brief mention of the dead mother, the lesbian who used to be friends with the protagonist, what kind of town the characters live in, how that character got from A to B.

If you can't consider these for yourself it may be worth asking your beta readers to write down questions that emerge in their head as they read your work - they may not all be relevant, or the same. You may specifically wish to hold back. But if you raise too many unanswered questions, you're not on a winning streak.

Oath Breaker - Wolf Brother 5

It's funny how the book world works. In movies, films are released on a Friday. Until recently, preview screenings were on a Thursday, but at least you knew where you stood. Films on DVD and Singles and Albums are always released on Mondays.

But books... it's as if the retailers don't care - so, I was able to buy Michelle Paver's Oath Breaker (book 5 in the Chronicles of Ancient Darkness series) on Tuesday instead of its official release date of Saturday 6th.

Crazy!

And, I've finished it. Another great stream of narrative, broken between the three leads, Torak, Renn and... no not Stimpy, but Wolf. There filters in another character's cracked up narrative for a brief moment to develop the plot and build tension but we stick rigidly to these three characters for everything.

And Paver makes sure to entwine us with the emotions of these characters, endearing them to us even when they're making the wrong choice, getting lost on the quest, or beating themselves up for their failings.

Sometimes there's no warning. Nothing at all.

Your skinboat is flying like a cormorant over the waves, your paddle sending silver capelin darting through the kelp, and everything's just right: the choppy Sea, the sun in your eyes, the cold wind at your back. Then a rock rears out of the water, bigger than a whale, and you're heading straight for it, you're going to smash...

Torak threw himself sideways and stabbed hard with his paddle. His skinboat lurched - nearly flipped over - and hissed past the rock with a finger to spare.

Streaming wet and coughing up seawater, he struggled to regain his balance.

'You all right?' shouted Bale, circling back.

'Didn't see the rock,' muttered Torak, feeling stupid.

Bale grinned. 'Couple of beginners in camp. You want to go and join them?'

So it begins, and while the last book started more thoughtfully, and this one with a spruce of action, we can already see that Paver is a master of maintaining her style and garnering reader interest.

And I've still learnt so little of these skills.

Sigh.

Anyhoo, Oath Breaker... out now. Read it. It's good stuff.

Dramatic Modes - The Dramatic Narrative

How ever did I miss this?

It's one of those very important writing tools that I've been ever so desperate to emulate, and failed to grasp.

The question is why? The answer is that I had not correctly analysed the elements and therefore hadn't named them.

As we all know from Ursula le Guin's Earthsea: To name something is to have power over it.

Back in January (my, that's a long time ago), I evolved my concept of Narrative Focus, and listed 9 elements:

1. Reflection - narrator / character reflects on the past / present / future
2. Action - physical movement, physiological movement / reaction, interaction with others / object
3. Intention - decision / impetus / drive to perform an act
4. Observation - senses, dialogue delivery
5. Perception - like observation but subjective
6. Wish / Need - future reflection
7. Feeling - how the character feels generally or their observation towards a situation / object / person (with feeling)
8. Relating - reflection vs feeling / observation towards a situation / object / person
9. Resolving - intention vs feeling / observation towards a situation / object / person

But what I couldn't grasp was the flow from scene to scene. That effortless movement that, in some fashion, propels us not simply from location to location, as if we were watching ye olde films with their static cameras, but through the world and the narrative - exactly as if we're on steadicam, at one pursuing the characters, then into montage, and back again.

A friend bought me James N. Frey's How To Write a Damn Good Novel. But, aside from dipping in and out (I have such difficulty maintaining interest in how to books, where it's all this is how it's done, now go and do it yourself - I know, that's how they all are), I never got further than halfway.

However, towards the back of the book is where the nuggets are, and where, in this particular case, Frey explains the concept of Dramatic Modes.

There are, points out Frey, three distinct ways of splicing the narrative, or three different modes, if you will.

1. Dramatic Narrative
2. Scenes
3. Half-scenes

Let me cover, point 2 first: we all know what scenes are. They're the definable units of action, where we see our characters interact with one another, develop, and conflict. When I am writing, these are the formal elements of my prose - the bits I am conscious of setting up and writing about.

Why did I cover scenes, first? Because they're exactly what they say they are - and even the worst of writers can write a scene (rightly or wrongly).

Thirdly, half-scenes are a meshing of scenes and dramatic narrative, so we don't need to cover them.

So, to the crux of the post... what is dramatic narrative?

In dramatic narrative, the narrator relates actions, shows character growth, and exploits inner conflict, but does so in a summary fashion.

- James N. Frey (How To Write a Damn Good Novel)

I touched upon this while talking about Earthsea, some months back - or at least I was thinking about it.

Dramatic narrative separates true writers from the amateur, relating to the reader this elements I laid out (above) with regard to narrative focus - the narrative topics and direction that take us slightly out of the scene and evolve the story beyond what is happening within a said scene.

The Book Thief - Reviewing Elements

Those of you not part of the Litopia phenomenon, one of our latest brainwaves is to host a book group, so as to discuss varying elements, issues, styles and likes/dislikes). We've been reading Markus Zusak's The Book Thief this month, and having a little discussion on it. I include my thoughts here also (not least to fulfill the criteria of my NAW course - I have been doing stuff really, teacher):

The Book Thief - Opening

I started the Book Thief long before the book club, and got to 100 pages before setting it down and having then to pass it onto another reader (damn library books and patron requests). Of course the reason I set it down were due to the book's lolloping narrative, something that I did not feel had become a problem until about page 50.

The opening in particular, I found very interesting and we immediately get a sense of Death, of our narrator, and the style in which we are going to be presented the narrative throughout the story - there will be no surprises later on with the introduction of bullet points, narrator asides, or the pre-chapter summing up. They're all present right there at the beginning.

It's like Zuzak has gathered his tool box together and set out what he wants to use on the first pages as a reminder to the style he will stick to, throughout.

However, what does change is the narrative style - later chapters flow with large swathes of description, whole paragraphs filled with what's happening. The opening chapters are very bitty.

It has to be difficult to set up Death as a narrator and present us with his foibles and indiosyncracies:

Quote:

First up is something white. Of the blinding kind. Some of you are most likely thinking that white is not really a colour and all of that tired sort of nonsense. Well I'm here to tell you that it is. White is without question a colour, and personally, I don't think you want to argue.

It raises the question: "What is Zuzak doing here?" since the story is supposed to be leading us toward a meeting with Liesel, but instead we're discussing the finer definitions of the colour white. It's unnecessary, and I wonder if Zuzak started off writing in the voice of Death to get a feel for his narration, and then chose to put all the woolly wanderings into the book simply because he'd done all the leg work of writing them!

By 50 pages in we've forgotten the discourse on colours, so why bother us? What purpose does it have?

Style

The style is an interesting one, as I mentioned in the previous thread:

Quote:

The opening in particular, I found very interesting and we immediately get a sense of Death, of our narrator, and the style in which we are going to be presented the narrative throughout the story - there will be no surprises later on with the introduction of bullet points, narrator asides, or the pre-chapter summing up. They're all present right there at the beginning.

Each part begins with a breakdown of the following chapters (like Pratchett's Going Postal) except that these aren't entirely the chapter headings. They're more thematic than that:

Mein Kampf (P.133): the way home - a broken woman - a struggler - a juggler - the attributes of summer - an aryan shopkeeper - a snorer - two tricksters - and revenge in the shape of mixed lollies

Some of these are chapter headings, others regard content. But the effect is to give us a sense of rhythm, a brief overview (of what to look forward to - if any of you really relished moving on - wow! a snorer! That'll be interesting!) and potentially, for Zuzak, a way for him to keep track of what happens when and where.

But what purpose do they really serve? Are they just a device for maintaining the style, or something more?

Do we remember them by the end of the chapter, or part? I'd say a definite no. Perhaps, even by page two of a chapter, I'd forgotten what the chapter was called.

Do we pay enough attention to warrant them? Are they cookies meant to keep us reading (in a similar way to Zuzak repeatedly foretelling someone's imminent, or not so, death) - would we not bother continuing without them?

I mean, it's a good -enough- story, but it seemed to lag - like a biography. We know it has to reach the otherside of the war (wouldn't we all be very angry if the book ended halfway through and we closed the last page thinking that for the characters who remained, the war was yet to end), and so, aside from the so-and-so is soon to die (so it goes), The Book Thief doesn't have a particular narrative drive - we just dip in and out!

The Word Shaker was about standing up against the Fascism - in a way it's like standing up the lies and bigotry and the loud-shoutiness of all man-made cults, dogmas and doctrines. Here are two characters prepared to stand against the stupidity of the sheep, because their truth is far stronger than even the loudest of Hitler's screaming rhetoric... but, but...

I understand the story's meaning, just not why the tree died at the end of it, and what that was supposed to mean

Story/Plot

Hitchcock's bomb (not his box, which is, obviously a discussion on McGuffins)...

Take page 505, finally we reach Zucker's death - and this has been foretold many-many pages before it occurs. This gives us a distinct lack of surprise when it does happen - we don't have any invested interest in this particular character, so is Zuzak turning a wasted opportunity on its head and giving us something to expect, to wait for (he does indeed do this a lot).

Hitchcock (as I believe Robert McKee states in his book Story) that if you had two people discussing a situation at a table, perhaps they're dining there, and after a time the table explodes, and they both die, then, short of the shock factor - oh my - and the confusion... what do we go away with?

Not a lot.

Now, what if we have two people at a table, let's say they're dining again, and chatting away, and Hitchcock lets us see that there is a bomb sitting under the table, right where the couple can't see it. And we can see that there is a countdown, and we, the audience, know that the couple don't know about the bomb, and don't know about the countdown, and we do the little maths and realise that they won't escape in time, and that no one is coming to pull them away, then we have a form of dramatic irony.

We are in a greater position of knowledge than the characters - which creates a sense of tension, and spurs us to remain glued to our seat, our fingers on the book, our eyes to the page.

The pay off is that we've seen it coming and long hoped for a reprise, for saviour or deus ex machina - and it hasn't come. In Rudy's case we have come to like Rudy, and join in his adventures (adventures that are in no way diminished by constant reminder of his foreboding death).

The fact is, if I'm cynical, Zuzak would have had no real means to keep his readers reading without this kind of cookie to entice the reader on. The narrative plods, is more biographical of accounts that action/adventure/thriller, and the problem a lot of us have had in sticking through with it is largely, I believe, down to a distinct lack of anything big or attention grabbing.

That's why foretelling Rudy's death and continually reminding us is a bit of a cheat.

Also, it could seem that Zuzak is arguing in some fashion against Shoah (there's no business like Shoah-business) getting all the limelight - "My German ancestors had it bad too, you know!" he seems to say. "We were stuck here, bound by the fervour of our zealots, without a word or opportunity of rising up against it all."

And that is probably the biggest factor in people not feeling fulfilled by the piece at all - it's like setting the original Star Wars trilogy entirely from Lando Calrissian's pov (oh, I've lost the Falcon, oh the Empire are being mean to my friend, and now proposing to leave an Imperial garrison! And now I've got to lose Bespin and go fight too... Sigh)

A far better book that touches upon this level of bigotry, but doubles-back to trully show and deal with the effects is Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner. The protagonist has it largely easy, even when the Taliban get going - and then he flees Afghanistan altogether.

The key being that he still has a link to that place, has unbridled guilt, and must return to right a wrong, an in so doing endanger his life.

General Thoughts

A couple of thoughts on the Book Thief

# P.148 (A tell as a marker that leads us into a show):

Soon, her sedated condition transformed to harassment, and self-loathing. She began to rebuke herself.

'You said nothing.' Her head shook vigorously, amongst the hurried footsteps. 'Not a goodbye. Not a thank you. Not a that's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. Nothing!' Certainly, she was a book thief, but that didn't mean she should have no manners at all. It didn't mean she couldn't be polite.

# P.157 (phraseology to match mood and subject):

'Johann Hermann,' she said. 'Who is that?'

The woman looked beside her, somewhere next to the girl's knees.

Liesel apologised. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't be asking such things...' She let the sentence die its own death.'

The woman's face did not alter, yet somehow she managed to speak. 'He is nothing now in this world,' she explained. 'He was my...'

# P.175 (as above):

The road was icy as it was, but Rudy put on the extra coat, barely able to contain a grin. It ran across his face like a skid.

# P.329 (Death's Diary - here we're sidelined in the story to join Death):

What's the point of this sojourn? To tell us more stuff that Liesel or anyone in Molching would otherwise know. Death allows Zuzak to frame the narrative in the wider story of Nazi Germany and all the evil that happened. It's a bit of a cheat, and like his little asides (the tells), it's a bit distracting, but it does have purpose.

Also, it's interesting how he leads back into the story (P.332), linking us in with the wider picture:

Unknowingly, she awaits a great many things that I alluded to just a minute ago, but she also waits for you.

She's carrying some snow down to a basement, of all places.

Handfuls of frosty water can make almost anyone smile, but it cannot make them forget.

Here she comes.

# P.333 - Backtracking / flashback:

We start in the present (of the story) developing Liesel's present situation and physicality, and then scoot backwards:

Opinions varied, but Rosa Hubermann claimed that the seeds were sown at Christmas the previous year. The twenty-fourth of December had been hungry and cold...

# P.437 - Juicy descriptions:

A wooden hand swiped at the splinters of his fringe, and he made several attempts to speak.

Character/Narrator POV and Interlaced Descriptions

Coming out of another dark spot of self doubt I've been reading much and wide - recently finished Scar Night by Alan Campbell (who worked on Grand Theft Auto). Brilliant book, had me gripped all the way.


After my last slap down I got angry with myself, my inability to write something pacy, coherent and interesting - then I reworked my opening chapter... again. But I'm still not happy, despite Solvejg giving his thumbs up (with caveats). I was worried that there was still no pace to it (though, I'm probably too close to it at the mo' to realise - a kind of word blindness). I felt that the reader just floated along with the description. And it just has no place right up there at the front. So... I needed a breather. I'm kind of wrong, despite needing to do some more work (always more work), but what could help?...

What's great about Scar Night is that it's begun to yield some secrets about the construct of chapters - and, at times, I've begun to make use of them in my writing (mostly subconsciously). Let's look at the opening:

Chains snarled the courtyard behind the derelict cannon foundry in Applecross: spears of chain radiating at every angle, secured into walls with rusted hooks and pins, and knitted together like a madwoman's puzzle. In the centre, Barraby's watchtower stood ensnared. Smoke unfurled from its ruined summit and blew west across the city under a million winter stars.

Huffing and gasping, Presbyter Scrimlock climbed through the chains. His lantern swung, knocked against links and welds and God knows what, threw shadows like lattices of cracks across the gleaming cobbles. When he looked up, he saw squares and triangles full of stars. His sandals slipped as though on melted glass. The chains, where he touched them, were wet. And when he finally reached the Spine Adept waiting by the watchtower door he saw why.

'Blood,' the Presbyter whispered, horrified. He rubbed feverishly at his cassock, but the gore would not shift.

The Spine Adept, skin stretched so tight over his muscles he seemed cadaverous, turned lifeless eyes on the priest. 'From the dead,' he explained. 'She ejects them from the tower. Will not suffer them there inside with her.' He tilted his head to one side.

Below the chains numerous Spine bodies lay in a shapeless mound, their leather armour glistening like venom.

'Ulcis have mercy,' Scrmlock said. 'How many has she killed?'

'Eleven.'

Scrimlock drew a breath. The night tasted dank and rusty, like the air in a dungeon. 'You're making it worse,' he complained. 'Can't you see that? You're feeding her fury.'

'We have injured her,' the Adept said. His expression remained unreadable, but he pressed a pale hand against the watchtower door brace, as if to reinforce it.

'What?' The Presbyter's heart leapt. 'You've injured her? That's... How could you possibly...'

'She heals quickly.' The Adept looked up. 'Now we must hurry.'

Scrimlock followed the man's gaze, and for a moment wondered what he was looking at. Then he spotted them: silhouettes against the glittering night, lean figures scaling the chains, moving quickly and silently to the watchtower's single window. More Spine than Scrimlock had ever seen together. There had to be fifty, sixty. How was it possible he'd failed to notice them before?

So begins the Deepgate Codex. A brilliant entry point into a series that is well founded on equal part description and action, with a pace that never lets up. It's not often that I finish a 500+ page book in a week, and when I (a slow-slow reader) do, the book must be good - Shirley?

Here we have the prologue entry, a 7 page section that precedes the main events by 2000 years (hmm... let's not get into a discussion on the finer points of prologues and whether they should be used or not - here it's employed specifically to introduce 2 main characters: the Angel Carnival, and the city of Deepgate. Being 2000 years before the main narrative, it sits better as a prologue).

Anyhoo, let's look at what we get...

• Paragraph 1 - The character of the city of chains is evoked in one punchy paragraph. Description to set the scene and locale.
• Paragraph 2 - A "real" character walks onto the scene and as they arrive, we have them interacting with the scenery, showing clothing but always making it act or react to the location. It never tells us what he's wearing. Instead we know he had a lantern because the lantern's swing knocks against the chains and throws light about, illuminating the scenery. He wears sandals, we learn, because the floor is slippery. And finally we arrive at a specific place (The watchtower door) and another character.
  
• Paragraph 3 - Brief dialogue and character reaction to... blood! We learn he's wearing a cassock because he rubs the blood onto it. Emotionally, we get "horrified" and the "gore would not shift"
  
• Para 4 - We meet the 2nd character, and have a quick bit description with dialogue - and here came a big epiphany...

The narrator, in Scar Night, is third person limited, but... the narrator, having chosen the first character to align with (Scrimlock), describes things from the chosen character's pov. So, when the narrator writes: "The Spine Adept, skin stretched so tight over his muscles he seemed cadaverous, turned lifeless eyes on the priest", it's not so much the narrator's observation but Scrimlock's.

And this is what I've not noticed prior to this book. That 3rd person pov is not an excuse to separate ourselves from what is going on; the emotion, the feeling of being there. Why didn't I see this before?

This explains why later in the book we get recaps of certain things we have already covered - because we've entered a new character and now they're observing it.

Scar Night - Official Website
Chapter 1 Extract - Pan Macmillan

The Black Book of Secrets

In Higgins's the Black Book of Secrets we have a narrative structure composed of three separate narrators. A brilliant decision that works well to keep the reader enthused with the story. As with many published books it is a masterclass in the ways of doing things right.

As Higgins writes in the blurb:

I came across Joe Zabbidou's Black Book of Secrets and Ludlow Fitch's memoirs in a rather curious manner. They were tightly rolled and concealed within the hollow of a wooden leg. When I unrolled them the pages were brittle and water-stained, and much was illegible. The fragments are reproduced here exactly as they were written. As for the parts that were missing, what could I do but draw upon my imagination to fill the gaps?

I pieced the story together as I thought best. I do not claim to be its author, merely the person who has tried to reveal it to the world.

So it is that we have:

1. Fragments from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch - 1st person pov, past tense
   
   When I opened my eyes I knew that nothing in my miserable life prior to that moment could possibly be as bad as what was about to happen. I was lying on the cold earthen floor of a basement room lit by a single candle, no more than an hour's burning left. Instruments of a medical nature hung from hooks in the beams. Dark stains on the floor suggested blood. But it was the chair against the opposite wall that fully confirmed my suspicions. Thick leather straps attached to the arms and the legs were there for one purpose only: to hold down an unwilling patient. Ma and Pa were standing over me.
   
   
2. Narrative purportedly to have been made up by Higgins to fill out the gaps in the memoirs - 3rd person pov, past tense
   
   It was not easy to describe Joe Zabbidou accurately. His age was impossible to determine. He was neither stout nor thin, but perhaps narrow. And he was tall, which was a distinct disadvantage in Pagus Parvus. The village dated from times when people were at least six inches shorter and all dwellings were built accordingly. In fact, the place had been constructed during the years of the 'Great Wood Shortage'. The king at the time issued a decree that every effort must be made to save wood, with the result that doors and windows were made smaller and narrower than was usual and ceilings were particularly low.
   
   
3. Extracts from the Black Book of Secrets consisting of confessions - 1st person pov, present and past tense
   
   My name is Obadiah Strang and I have a terrible secret. It haunts my every waking hour, and at night when I finally manage to sleep it takes over my dreams.
   
   I might only be a humble gravedigger but I am proud of it. I have never cheated anyone: they get six feet, no more, no less. I have always led a simple life. I need very little and I ask for nothing. I was a contented man until some months ago when I fell foul of my landlord, Jeremiah Ratchet.
   

Higgins has used a different voice, particularly for each of the confessions, and their use breaks up the narrative structure to give a different view and feel. It works, maintaining (for the moment at least) my interest. Each has varying levels of info dumpage (check out the 2nd style)

Explaining the Setup

"Sparrowhawk, if ever your way lies East, come to me. And if you ever need me, send for me, call on me by my name: Estarriol."

At that Ged lifted his scarred face, meeting his friend's eyes.

"Estarriol," he said, "my name is Ged."

Naming is a big thing in Ursula Le Guin's A Wizard of Earthsea. Not only is it wrapped up in the themes - to know the name of something is to have power over it - but over the first 70 pages that lead up to this extract the reader has a good understanding of that names have a special place in this world.

We have had a great setup with Le Guin clearly developing the nuances of names, so when we reach this part, and we get the explanation (info dump if you will). It is a big tell that follows:

Then quietly they bade each other farewell and Vetch turned and went down the stone hallway, and left Roke.

Ged stood still a while, like one who has received great news, and must enlarge his spirit to receive it. It was a great gift that Vetch had given him, the knowledge of his true name. No one knows a man's true name but himself and his namer. He may choose at length to tell it to his brother, or his wife, or his friend, yet even those few will never use it where any third person may hear it. In front of other people they will, like other people, call him by his use-name, his nickname - such a name as Sparrowhawk, and Vetch, and Ogion which means 'fir-cone'. If plain men hide their true name from all but a few they love and trust utterly, so much more must wizardly men, being more dangerous, and more endangered. Who knows a man's name, holds that man's life in his keeping. Thus to Ged who had lost faith in himself, Vetch had given that gift only a friend can give, the proof of unshaken, unshakeable trust.

but then, how else do you set that out clearly? Would we have understood the meaning to Ged without it having been stated here?

This also raises a point about the difference between Show and Tell... what we have with the old S&T debate is that writers must show, in order to maintain reader interest - integrated descriptions of action, emotion, characters and setup that weave together.

The character was angry... is a tell.
The character threw down his ale an unsheathed his sword... is a show.

With exposition there is only so much showing that can be done. It's essentially an info dump and in order for the reader to understand fully what they are being told, the writer cannot flourish with a show. They must tell.

The Info Dump

George Lucas always places his info dumps at roughly 1/3 of the way through. In the insipid Phantom Menace (sorry George, I dig what you were trying, and you certainly set up a brilliant Episode 3, but Menace ain't too good) this is the scene around the dining table at Anakin's slave quarters when Qui Gon discusses Jedi's, pod racing, Anakin's ability et al. After the initial setup of action and intrigue an info dump is always required to set the ongoing tone and direction of the piece - though it doesn't necessarily have to occur where George specifies, though consider any number of quests - Raiders of the Lost Ark, James Bond, etc - after the initial opening (which in the case of both the aforementioned have the culmination (Act 3) of a different/separate story) we cut back to be told by the professors or M what the mission is going to be and its importance.

Of course, info dumps occur throughout a story - they're essential to fleshing out the piece - and as with my previous post "Stop starting" I showed how information can be slid under the reader's nose without distracting (too much) from the forward moving narrative.

The info dump I'm talking about is the big one that consolidates the "why we are here", and, as with Inkheart, there is just such a scene - though this is pulled off another site (I don't yet know where it appears in the book itself because I've not got far enough):

So, Inkheart has the following blurb:

Meggie lives alone with her father, Mo, a book restorer. But a frightening new chapter in their lives begins the day a strange figure from the past called Dustfinger arrives at their door. He warns them that a villain named Capricorn is looking for a precious book in Mo's collection. And he will stop at nothing to steal it. The dire warning forces Mo to reveal an extraordinary secret — that when he reads a book aloud, the fictional characters come to life. It is revealed that long ago, Mo accidentally brought the villainous Capricorn into the world. And now Capricorn has returned to destroy the last remaining copy of the book. Soon, Meggie discovers she shares her father's gift. If only she can use her newfound powers to send Capricorn back between the pages where he belongs.

But, the brunt of that info dump is given here.

As you can see from the excerpt, it is reeled off in dialogue form - since the reader hasn't come across this news already in their reading, there is no loss in having the conversation here (though were another character to be given this info we, the reader, would not want to sit through it a second time). Also, as it's in a specific character's voice they can embellish and use their own witticisms, giving us a feeling for them rather than having to listen to the droll of the narrator.

Stop starting

A recent post on Litopia covered a specific problem in creating a join from a developing situation/observation to a memory. This is something Solvejg has touched upon over on the MaggotFarm, with regard to considering what he can use to spark a memory link (not that I can find the post right now).

Having fleshed out a join the user decided to come up with a different approach, citing that someone had pointed out she does too much stop starting - moving from dialogue to backstory and then back to the dialogue. Her excerpt on its own linked a smile from one character to that of the narrator's husband. Working it out a little made the excerpt very effective - it's something I've not tried myself yet, but, reading Cornelia Funke's Inkheart has shown this up too (funny coincidence since I've been waiting for Inkheart's arrival for three months and it should pop up now when someone asks the very same question I found myself asking as I read the first chapter).


While I think this is a great way (as with all things - in bitesize chunks) to move the action, info drop, develop and relate to character, I was thinking to myself that perhaps Funke was relying upon it a little too much (taking me away from the action - though I can see how much worse my own writing must read now).

So, first off, here's the link to the excerpt. It's in a printable format, but just open it in a new tab or window.

Let's breeze over the opening paragraph though it's a masterclass in itself, evoking atmosphere, telling us the protagonist will be alive in many years to come, setting it off almost fairytale like with this "look back on things" view:

Rain fell that night, a fine, whispering rain. Many years later, Meggie had only to close her eyes and she could still hear it, like tiny fingers tapping on the windowpane. A dog barked somewhere in the darkness, and however often she tossed and turned Meggie couldn't get to sleep.

The shift in time almost doesn't work for me - it is slightly distracting and pulls us immediately out of the time of the book - but it is effective.

Anyhoo, throughout the text we are developing the story and our understanding and attachment to the two main characters, Meggie and her father, Mo. However, here is a perfect example of just what the Litopians were discussing:

Meggie frowned. "Please, Mo! Come and look."

He didn't believe her, but he went anyway. Meggie tugged him along the corridor so impatiently that he stubbed his toe on a pile of books, which was hardly surprising. Stacks of books were piled high all over the house— not just arranged in neat rows on bookshelves, the way other people kept them, oh no! The books in Mo and Meggie's house were stacked under tables, on chairs, in the corners of the rooms. There were books in the kitchen and books in the lavatory. Books on the TV set and in the closet, small piles of books, tall piles of books, books thick and thin, books old and new. They welcomed Meggie down to breakfast with invitingly opened pages; they kept boredom at bay when the weather was bad. And sometimes you fell over them.

"He's just standing there!" whispered Meggie, leading Mo into her room.

Right in the middle of intrigue - WALLOP - we get a chunk of information shoved down our throats. I don't deny that both characters love reading and that we need to appreciate this earlier than later as it is pretty much our description of their home, but what an info dump, especially when all we're interested in is who is standing outside and what they want. Just read that paragraph again - it takes us way out of the current situation - intriguing that Funke gets away with it, isn't it?

The key is not to do it too much - like the use of adjectives. So, let's look at a slightly different use of this tool (from a few paragraphs earlier):

Suddenly, he turned his head, and Meggie felt as if he were looking straight into her eyes. She shot off the bed so fast the open book fell to the floor, and she ran barefoot out into the dark corridor. This was the end of May, but it was chilly in the old house.

There was still a light on in Mo's room. He often stayed up reading late into the night. Meggie had inherited her love of books from her father. When she took refuge from a bad dream with him, nothing could lull her to sleep better than Mo's calm breathing beside her and the sound of the pages turning. Nothing chased nightmares away faster than the rustle of printed paper. But the figure outside the house was no dream.

Here we have a brilliant segue from Meggie's room to Mo's, giving us not just knowledge of his keenness for reading, but that he allows Meggie into his bed when she suffers from nightmares and that she is calmed by him.

And just as importantly, Funke has linked the paragraph back to the preceding - realigning and reminding us of the potential danger.

Character Templates

My most recent big problem with writing is that, though I've thought about my characters and set them against one another in a scene I've not thought properly about their angles, their needs and only briefly about their objectives.

I then spend much of my time filling out white space with descriptions of the walls, the sun and the feeling of pain a character is feeling. So, going back to basics, I've compiled a Character Template that needs to be filled out for each and every main character.

The purpose of this is two fold: 1) You know everything about your character, physically and socially. Never again will you mistakenly write that your black protagonist was a red head, or that your 4 ft 2in dwarf was able to get the cat down from the top shelf. 2) You know them psychologically in-and-out. You will be able to really understand what your character wants out of a scene, how they will react to others and, most-importantly, you will know where their idiosyncrasies lie, what they are hypocrites about and why they can't make a decision between two evils.

Give it a go yourself... maybe I should try this for my locations too!

Writing from the Heart

I haven't written from the heart for so long I have forgotten how. Much of my writing in the beginning was automatic, was characters interacting, taking action, talking, fighting, evolving... but that all changed the day I realised I couldn't write proper like what real writers do, and over the recent years I've yearned and pursued a better way of life - resolute description that is fresh and new.

Alas, I have come unstuck. What I've been concentrating on has been the editing, the second stage after the initial draft in finished, and yet that has been before or while I have been writing the first draft. I type away for a paragraph and then go back and edit, re-edit, re-edit ad infinitum until I think I like it (for the night). I never move on and though the descriptions have (recently) become blessedly punchier I'd not realised my mistake - I've been writing from the ego.

If you're coming from you ego when you write, you're missing the magic and music that appears from your deeper self. By being willing to reach down into your unconsciousness, you'll give your fictional characters greater dimension, complexities, and human qualities (warts and all).

... says Rachel Ballon (author of Breathing life into your characters).

This is important for more than simply the reason of character (though that is primarily why I have submitted to picking up a book on how to write - I must do this more often). The first exercise in the book takes the reader/writer down memory lane and asks that you write for 15 minute with feeling on a moment in your life when you experienced great emotion. Feel it and write it... simple! And powerful, since what I wrote is in the moment - it may not be spectacularly written (I haven't greatly edited it or poured time in perfecting) - is filled with so much stuff that writing with the ego does not generate:

They befriended us first with pats on the back and smiles and group in-joking. We already felt on edge since these older boys were just that: older. We were still fairly young, on the cusp of moving from primary to secondary school. In comparison these boys were much broader, far taller, even than me.

We had ridden our bikes down to Millpond for a laugh during the holidays, just to go that far and take in the lake, free of adults. Now, with the group of 3, or was it 4, lads closing in around us, we knew we were out of our depth.

The questions are easy at first: non-threatening and no reason to expect the unexpected. It didn't take them long to lead us off the path and drag us, bikes as well, into the bushes. Thick and green looking from the outside, they'd seemed impenetrable, but once inside amongst the twisted trunks and roots it was big enough for them to hold us and the bikes and keep us surrounded. We were so close to the path and yet too far from help. We'd seen no one else on our travels.

That's when the fear kicks in. The two of us, on our own, far smaller and outnumbered. What did they want?

We couldn't just run and leave them with the bikes. What would our parents say? Were the bikes what they wanted?

One of them was speaking: threatening words that I can't now remember, but we'd look at each other, panicky, feeling their heavy hands on our shoulders, wrapped about the crossbars of our bikes.

Be quiet!

What did they want? What would they do to us?

We lied right from the off, pretending to be cousins. One lived in the town, the other had come with his parents for the day. There were adults waiting for us. There was no reason for the lads to believe otherwise. We were family members, not just friends. If only we'd said they knew where we were and were coming to pick us up!

I was crying. My friend, silent. Pensive, of course, but stoic. He always was. Stronger in body and mind despite being shorter than me. Brave like dynamite. I've never been so. I have too many fears.

I cried quietly, so afraid of being beaten up, or worse. What could they do? What did they want with us? I told them I suffered from migraines, pleading that it was a serious one. It could only get worse and I had to go home... be gone. It hurt so bad. We had to go so that I could take my medication. Our family would be waiting.

They were understanding. Their threats and strict faces were so understanding and let they let me go. They turned my bike around for me and passed me out through the wall of green. I was back on the path, making my way back the way I had cycled in, back to freedom. I was shaking and balling. My face was hot and red, my cheeks soaked. And as I walked away up the path I trembled and realised what I had done.

I had betrayed my friend to them. I had left him behind with thoughts of myself.

I had forsaken him in their clutches, alone, to do with as they pleased. A knot that had sat in my stomach double-knotted itself as I looked on myself and my cowardice and kept on walking. What had I done? Surely we'd been safer together? What had I done? I kept on walking.

He came screaming past me. His hand was clutched to his ear and he was cursing and crying. He went tearing away from me in tears, yelling that they'd hit him. I saw that he had left his bike behind, that they had stolen it and paid him with a punch.

I threw down my bike at that thought. I swept away the cowardice, my fear for my own safety and with him gone into the distance, I turned around. I lurched into life and charged back into the bushes, fleeing from my cravenness. I had betrayed my best friend and let them hurt him.

I ran screaming into the bushes, cussing and throwing my fists. I gave no thought to myself. He had taken a punch for me and his bike was forfeit. That wasn't right. I charged into their lair to lay waste to them or take my share - whatever it took.

But they were gone.

I pushed both bikes along the path, followed only by my shame. Eventually I found my friend on a bench. He'd failed to find help. We were still alone. We never saw those boys again and in time our friendship passed away also, though the shame lives on.

Hopefully you can see that 15 minutes of writing without thought to place, character names, or fear of failure, evokes a far stronger piece of writing than anything I have produced recently. Perhaps I had better go back to writing my first drafts and then tying them up afterwards?!

It is certainly possible that we can write from the ego and create something beautiful, but, I am beginning to believe that in order to write more broadly, more freely, and with the possibility of calling on a wider vocabulary (or making the writing appear more verbally, the way great writers can move between subjects, subplots, descriptions and back again) free writing is the way I must go.

Contrasting

A wonderful skill in writing is to establish a place/setting/feeling in relation to a character - setting some emotional weight - and then bringing them back to contrast that feeling against the reverse. This provides an excellent way of showing change in the environment or situation, or, more importantly, in the character.

On page 41 of A Wizard of Earthsea, Le Guin places Ged in the House of the Wise at the beginning of his apprenticeship in Roke:

As their eyes met, a bird sang aloud in the branches of the tree. In that moment Ged understood the singing of the bird, and the language of the water falling in the basin of the fountain, and the shape of the clouds, and the beginning and end of the wind that stirred the leaves: it seemed to him that he himself was a word spoken by the sunlight.

On page 68, after Ged has unleashed the shadow and suffered greatly from its attack he returns to the House of the Wise and the new Archmage:

So Gensher ended, and was suddenly gone, as is the way of the mages. The fountain leaped in the sunlight, and Ged watched it a while and listened to its voice, thinking of Nemmerle. Once in that court he had felt himself to be a word spoken by the sunlight. Now the darkness also had spoken: a word that could not be unsaid.

Learning to Let Go...

... is the hardest of all a writer's lessons. I, above all... as we... ahem... all know, is worse than most. Writing way, way, way round the houses in order to purloin what I perceive to be the best way of expressing myself. Psht to brevity!

And this is where I came unstuck. Case in point, the 122 word paragraph on page 5 of my opening chapter (and a good indication of my wordiness):

The circular wall shifts as the words continue to wriggle across the page. The rows of books revolve like some ancient mechanism. One row clockwise, the next anti-clockwise, until all are in motion. They stop, one column breaks at the centre and the upper half rises up through the fog, one book length, to reveal the bare wall behind. The rows revolve a second time, stopping briefly to allow the top-half of another column to slide down into the gap. Two… three… four more times, revolving and separating, sliding and converging. The brick-books reorder themselves like a cylindrical sliding puzzle until all halt and a gap, the width of two books, comes to a stop before the great book and its pedestal.

A week of revision, of those 5 pages, has whittled just over 40 words from the paragraph, down to 77:

The circular wall shifts now, as the words writhe across the page. The rows of books revolve like some ancient mechanism and the columns slide up and down through the fog. As the books reorder themselves the ceiling begins to ripple and roll and two book-shaped spaces are revealed, showing the bare stonework of the wall behind. The spaces drop down through the books like a sliding puzzle until they are positioned in front of the pedestal.

Here's how the sentences match up, original against the new:

1. The circular wall shifts as the words continue to wriggle across the page.
   
   The circular wall shifts now, as the words writhe across the page.

2. The rows of books revolve like some ancient mechanism. One row clockwise, the next anti-clockwise, until all are in motion.
   
   The rows of books revolve like some ancient mechanism and the columns slide up and down through the fog.

3. They stop, one column breaks at the centre and the upper half rises up through the fog, one book length, to reveal the bare wall behind.
   
   As the books reorder themselves the ceiling begins to ripple and roll and two book-shaped spaces are revealed, showing the bare stonework of the wall behind.

4. The rows revolve a second time, stopping briefly to allow the top-half of another column to slide down into the gap.

5. Two… three… four more times, revolving and separating, sliding and converging.

6. The brick-books reorder themselves like a cylindrical sliding puzzle until all halt and a gap, the width of two books, comes to a stop before the great book and its pedestal.
   
   The spaces drop down through the books like a sliding puzzle until they are positioned in front of the pedestal.

I'm not saying it's perfect - though at the present time I think it is :) - but to reduce confusion and lower the possibility that the reader will grow bored of watching the walls move rather than relate to a person in distress, losing two sentences is a good start.

Also, this paragraph is important - the books, their appearance, and the reordering - to later understanding. I'm not just stopping to describe the sunset here.

Writing for you Audience

I've been reading Ursula K. le Guin of late - more about her later - and she's such a great writer, especially the Earthsea Quartet. Now, they should be re-released and promoted by the publishers!

Anyhoo, it's been really helpful to give me a push to get on with my own writing. Though that's led me into a pickle. Not least with my wife, who says: "You can't write a YA book aimed at the 12+ and use words like obsidian and oubliette."

Actually she told me off for my first draft being even beyond her comprehension - sigh. Perhaps I'll never get my act together with learning to write with restraint. I guess that answers the age old question... Who do you write for? Yourself or your audience?

Clearly, I write for myself.

But, I must curb my enthusiasm and write for my audience. Out with obsidian and oubliette, or at least in with some explanation. That said, writing:

At the bottom of the tower where the wall shakes and groans columns of books line the stonework, evoking a solid, impenetrable oubliette - a dungeon with a trapdoor in the ceiling as its only means of entrance or exit.

only supports the argument for brevity and a call to yank oubliette from the page. (I'm still fighting my corner, and by the way, thanks dictionary.com for that succinct description).

So, other than that, mostly good points for simple behaviour, only, I still have my flourishes. Which brings me to my second point...

I wanted to write about those columns of books moving and revolving around the room. Where better to start than by familiarising myself with someone whose already done a similar thing (and no, there is no dishonour in peeking at someone else's work to get an idea at how to jump first first into an issue - Francine Prose practically throttles the writer in the hope they will learn from the best).

So, who do I turn to, remembering a certain scene in a certain book about bricks coming to life and shuffling apart?

JK Rowling... of course. In Chapter Five - Diagon Alley, Hagrid magics a wall to open up and allow them access to the Wizarding World. In the film this is extremely memorable thanks to the those visual wizards, Industrial Light and Magic, who create a spectacle of shuffling bricks, that slide and grind back and forth over one another, reconfiguring like a living, organic structure, until the entrance is clear - almost like a Rubik's cube but with pull out and push in sections.


So, I thought, where better to get a feel for moving brickwork than Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone? Where better indeed:

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second late they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway on to a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.

It took me a short while to find that short passage, and having read it shuffled off grumbling and moaning and generally besmirching JK's good name for being a weak writer and nothing like as grand as Ursula K. le Guin.

Of course, I wrote my version, ahem:

The circular wall shifts as the words continue to wriggle across the page. The rows of books revolve like some ancient mechanism. One row clockwise, the next anti-clockwise, until all are in motion. They stop, one column breaks at the centre and the upper half rises up through the fog, one book length, to reveal the bare wall behind. The rows revolve a second time, stopping briefly to allow the top-half of another column to slide down into the gap. Two… three… four more times, revolving and separating, sliding and converging. The brick-books reorder themselves like a cylindrical sliding puzzle until all halt and a gap, the width of two books, comes to a stop before the great book and its pedestal.

But, as my wife now points out. Look at the size of the passage. Along with my occasional grandious words, this passage does little to push along the plot (other than generate a gap in the brick-book work) but does a lot to slow the reader down. Is a 12 year old going to care? Especially, I must consider whether or not the kind of audience I'm after - reluctant readers (it's all part of my game plan) - are going to stop there and think, so what?

I don't like it one bit and yet I must bow to my audience. I must set aside my own wants and think of them. How relevant is it? I must levy myself to JK's way, focus the reader's attention instead on what is important.

Sigh!

Narrative Focus

Narrative, narrative, narrative... what a wonderful thing. Aside from dialogue I think one might find narrative a very important entity within a piece of written work. How else might one transport one's eyes, and thusly their grey matter from point A to point B in a coherent manner without having to consider who said what and why?

Ah, it be narrative. Shame that I often have so much trouble with it. In the Figurative Language post, we saw that there is a right way to construct a sentence as part of the narrative structure, but we didn't consider what we can do with the narrative, and there lies the rub.

You see, I was reading a book t'other day and I came across an h'epiphany regarding the very different ways in which narrative may be constructed, and I don't mean first person present tense and all that fandangleness. No, pay attention.

So much of my prose can be confusing to the reader, but worse still it is confusing because I have failed to consider what elements I can focus my narrator's attention on, and thusly the reader's. How so, I hear you say?

I've tried to distill a concept for narrative choices, and it may be wrong, or not entirely complete, but this is an experimental blog and thus the mind that creates it hasn't yet had its premises inspected and signed off by the building commission.

Reflection - narrator / character reflects on the past / present / future

And for many, for Father, for me now, the risk of missing a catch through fear of foul weather is too great. If you aren’t out there catching, you’re not paying your way.

This is the living; what it is to live from hand to mouth.

Action - physical movement, physiological movement / reaction, interaction with others / object

And if I pause in my work to watch the motion, my body braced against the open-air cabin as I cast the last clove hitch between the port railing and my stash of pot traps, it looks as if he’s master of all the sea.

Intention - decision / impetus / drive to perform an act

He was my only companion for the journey, his head cocked to one side or the other, eyeing the bait I worked between my fingers. I regarded him but gave him nothing, promising instead the spoils if he stayed with me. There he lingered on my promise.

Observation - senses, dialogue delivery

Father’s lineage has bestowed me with his waxy, chiselled features, a sailor’s skin rigged to withstand the constant saltwash. I have his strong hands and the same sturdy disposition surges through my bones against the sea’s heave-ho.

Perception - like observation but subjective

He could manage all that and more, winching, knotting, securing from port to starboard; all the while grinning windward as only true sailors can. Alone, I barely had time to secure myself. I’m certain to this day that he’d made a pact with the sea. In return for having a storm’s forewarning he’d commit himself to her deep bosom one day, as if I’d been right all these years and Mother had meant nothing to him.

Wish / Need - future reflection

That first time alone, my entire catch scuppered by the dirtiest of squalls, I prayed. Whilst I’d had none of my father’s nous, I hoped I’d been blessed with some of his luck.

Feeling - how the character feels generally or their observation towards a situation / object / person (with feeling)

In the roar, the swoosh and the whoop of the squall I could hear nothing else; not the bilge pump I hoped was still running, nor my own screams of despair.

Relating - reflection vs feeling / observation towards a situation / object / person

He has a herring gull’s determination: fixed and stoic and calculating. It’s the same expression worn off ship by my father, whether skulking about the house, swigging whiskey from his favoured tin mug, or flipping mackerel in a skillet.

Resolving - intention vs feeling / observation towards a situation / object / person

On my maiden voyage, the first I made in the wake of his death, lying ahull was the only option. In my eagerness to get underway and my anxiety to honour his memory I failed to prepare.

All examples are from a short story of mine.

Reaction Before Explanation

Just a quickie... I was popping my nostrils through Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (as you do), looking for a description of the Mirror of Erised, and the room in which it is sitting, because I am trying to make sure that if (and when) I finally get back to writing my children's story, I must keep my writing less flowery (if you must know).

Anyhoo, I came across how JK Rowling presents a surprise to the reader when it affects her characters - she does so by dealing with the most immediate element, and in the case of Harry looking into the mirror - his reaction. This keeps the reader slightly distanced, as if pushing them away so that they can't see what Harry sees, making them want to know more:

His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed - for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

The lady can write. As for the screaming book, that's another example of sudden surprise, but this time rather than dealing with the character reaction, we have the most pertinent element of the shock, that being the scream that breaks the quiet:

He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, blood-curdling shrief split the silence - the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, ear-splitting note. He stumbled backwards and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once.

So, surprise or reaction first... works both ways but it's dependent upon the specifics. There's no point in her writing about Harry's reaction to the screaming book before we've read that it's screaming. Similarly, we lose any suspense and / or terror if we see the people in the mirror and not Harry's reaction.

Oh, and as for the mirror itself:

- but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it here to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on whosi.

Functional description linked in with character action (it was facing him - relates back to character position so that it doesn't feel as if we've stopped to describe it).

Comedies - Relying on the True and the Tested

Comedy is a hard thing to pull off, not least because you need to be funny, but because you need to be funny in so many ways and with such assuredness, while moving the plot... somewhere. Here, I've given four episode 1s a brief analysis of what the what and what the how, so pay attention.

Firstly, Good old Chrono posted a great article recently on his blog (Journey of the Scribe): Things I Learned from Improv. And, made this points (that are as important for Comedy as they are for Drama):

1. Every scene needs conflict.
2. Once you have conflict, escalate it!
3. When telling a story, avoid thought words such as 'decided', 'pondered', 'considered', etc.
4. Avoid 'talking heads' scenes. Characters should at least be doing something while they talk.
5. Fart jokes and scenes about gynecologists make most people groan or cringe, unless your audience is 5-year olds or horny teenagers.
6. In each scene, try to ask yourself, 'What is my character trying to accomplish this scene?'
7. Characters all have unique mannerisms and ways of speaking. Try to avoid defaulting to your own voice.
8. If you're not enjoying a scene, chances are no one else is either.
9. Subtext is amazing when you can pull it off.
10. Make every scene and every character larger than life, but still believable.

Black Books - Season 1 Episode 1

There are three plots - one main, and two sub-plots:

1. Bernard can't do his own accounting or fill in his tax forms and is desperate for assistance
2. Manny is overly stressed by his accounting job, but having mistakenly swallowed the Little Book of Calm, could die.
3. Fran's trying to solve the riddle of the latest purchase for her shop - what could it be, and will her trying to work out the answer keep her from being with her friend during labour

And the following is a list of the comedic elements in use:

1. Blagging / Lack of Knowledge/ Trying to Impress
2. Character - general funny act
3. Character - Idiosyncrasy
   
4. Character - Out of Character Response / Take on Persona of Another
5. Character - Over the Top
6. Character - Specific Saying / Way of Speaking
7. Contrasting / Reversal (Happy <-> Sad / Idyllic <-> Hell)
8. Escalate Situation / Responses
9. Forgetfulness
   
10. Getting Caught Out / Saving Face
11. Harming Oneself / Putting Self in Harms Way
12. Inability to cope with inanimate objects
13. Irony
14. Lack of Self-Awareness
15. Lack of Social Skills
16. Malapropism / misuse of Word, Phrase / Off-Cuff Wrong Saying
17. Obstructing another character (verbally / physically)
18. Offensive / Blunt / Rude
19. Reaction to Incident
20. Reminder of Something Character is Trying to Avoid
21. Repeat Something (Twist it on the repeat)
22. Sarcasm
23. Song / Poetry that doesn't Rhyme
24. Stating the Obvious
25. Stereotyping
26. Surprise Response (abnormal in situation)
27. Taking Anger Out on Others
28. Unexpected / Unexplained Act whose Outcome Leads to Explanation
29. Unexpected Observation / Link

Scrubs - Season 1 Episode 1

Scrubs is more gangshow that Black Books, and the plots resolve around a mural of life in the hospital, introducing us to the characters and following themes of fitting in (place in the hierarchy) / committing to the work / overcoming fears of inadequacy / making friends and rivals.

Here are the comedic elements in use:

1. Adopting a Funny Voice
2. Being Anal
3. Belittling Others
4. Blagging / Lack of Knowledge/ Trying to Impress
5. Character - Idiosyncrasy
   
6. Comedic Dreams / Words Put in the Mouths of Others
7. Contrasting / Reversal (Happy <-> Sad / Idyllic <-> Hell)
8. Fish out of Water
9. Gesturing / While Others are Talking
10. Giving Names (Derogatory) to Others
11. Going off on One
12. Humorous Observation
13. Hypocrite
    
14. Making Enemies
15. misleading People
16. Oneupmanship
17. Pop-Culture References
18. Sarcasm
19. Slapstick
20. Stitching Someone Up - Personal Gain / Avoidance
21. Talking Behind Someone's Back
22. Trying to be One of the Gang
23. Worrying the Wider Public with offhand Comment

Red Dwarf - Season 1 Episode 1

Red Dwarf, like Scrubs, opens with a lot of characters, but manages to shirk them pretty quickly with a heavy dose of Cadmium. There isn't a unifying theme, but the plot lines set up the main situation for the show along with Rimmer's perpetual subplot:

1. Lister is put in stasis because he won't reveal his cat, leading to Rimmer not fixing a drive plate that kills everyone with Cadmium, making Lister the last human alive
2. Rimmer fails his exam
3. Cat is the last surviving member of the cat race

Here's that all important list:

1. 1 of the 7 Deadly Sins
2. Barefaced Lying
3. Bending Rules for personal gain and claiming its not
4. Character - Idiosyncrasy
   
5. Choice of Clothing / Tools
6. Conflict / Winding Each Other Up
7. Crossing Objects / Animals (Woolly-Jumper)
8. Delusions of Grandeur
   
9. Dissing / Ignoring Authority
10. Escalating a Wind Up
11. Fish Out of Water
12. Going the Wrong Way
13. Hamming - Grand Literary Acting
14. Inappropriate Music to a Scene
15. Inappropriateness
16. Indirect Double Entendres
17. Jade comments - Lack of Knowledge (history, geography, science) / Incorrect Terminology
18. Losing Mind
19. Making a Fool of Another / Getting them to Make a Fool of Themselves
20. Me-First Ideology
21. Misunderstanding / Not Bothering to Understand
22. Nerdy
23. Offensive / Blunt / Rude
24. Punchline Interruption (of someone else's dialogue - funny or otherwise)
25. React to Incident / Situation but leave it for Someone Else
26. Repetition and Ignorance (They're all Dead Dave… Everyone's Dead)
27. Saving Face
28. Slapstick
29. Superiority
30. Trying to be Careful and Making it Worse
31. Twisting Meaning of Someone's Statement

IT Crowd - Season 1 Episode 1

And finally we have the IT Crowd, the newest of the four, and not necessarily the funniest (some of the character idiosyncrasies are vaguely annoying), but it's still a masterclass. Here we have the introduction of all the characters meshed in with two plots:

1. Power play within the team
2. Raising the profile of the team

And the list:

1. Anticlimax - from the big build up (McGuyver / A-Team sequence)
2. Blagging / Lack of Knowledge/ Trying to Impress
3. Caught Out
4. Character - Idiosyncrasy
   
5. Conflict against 3rd person bring 1st and 2nd together (then in-fighting)
6. Contrasting / Reversal (Happy <-> Sad / Idyllic <-> Hell)
7. Determination (To Do / Not Do Something)
8. Diffusing Situations
9. Failure to Listen / Lack of Interest
10. Hiding / Avoidance
11. Increasing an Alert Status
12. Jade comments - Lack of Knowledge (history, geography, science) / Incorrect Terminology
13. Job Specific Cliché
14. Mania
15. Matching Banter (Down a Blind Alley)
16. Mirroring Someone / Object
17. Missing the Obvious - Stated / Visible
18. Mistaking the Secret Nod / Talk / Handshake
19. Not Picking up the Vibe
20. Odd / Incorrect Analogy
21. Playing on a stereotyped lack of knowledge
22. Private Joke / Job Specific Joke - not got by others
23. Proving them Wrong
24. puerile Humour - Self Aware
25. Repetition (normal)
26. Self Loathing
27. Slapstick
28. Slow Response / Reaction (Purposeful)
29. Stress Induced by Others
30. Sudden Outburst
31. Telling the Wrong Story
32. The "What did they say?" or "I'm not talking to them, tell them this…" 3 way
33. The Kitten -> Tiger Unexpected Unleashing
34. The Only One Who Knows - Being Ignored
35. Toilet Humour
36. Used / Abused - Bemoaning Treatment at the Hands of Others
37. Wordplay

Having knowledge of these terms however doesn't make for great comedy. It's all in the choice of topic delivered in the form of one of these listed items, and of course the delivery itself. So, finally, altogether... the full list (just to show you what you can call on):

1. 1 of the 7 Deadly Sins
2. Adopting a Funny Voice
3. Anticlimax - from the big build up (McGuyver / A-Team sequence)
4. Barefaced Lying
5. Being Anal
6. Belittling Others
7. Bending Rules for personal gain and claiming its not
8. Blagging / Lack of Knowledge/ Trying to Impress
9. Caught Out
10. Character - general funny act
11. Character - Idiosyncrasy
12. Character - Out of Character Response / Take on Persona of Another
13. Character - Over the Top
14. Character - Specific Saying / Way of Speaking
15. Choice of Clothing / Tools
16. Comedic Dreams / Words Put in the Mouths of Others
17. Conflict / Winding Each Other Up
18. Conflict against 3rd person bring 1st and 2nd together (then in-fighting)
19. Contrasting / Reversal (Happy <-> Sad / Idyllic <-> Hell)
20. Crossing Objects / Animals (Woolly-Jumper)
21. Delusions of Grandeur
22. Determination (To Do / Not Do Something)
23. Diffusing Situations
24. Dissing / Ignoring Authority
25. Escalate Situation / Responses
26. Escalating a Wind Up
27. Failure to Listen / Lack of Interest
28. Fish Out of Water
29. Forgetfullness
30. Gesturing / While Others are Talking
31. Getting Caught Out / Saving Face
32. Giving Names (Derogatory) to Others
33. Going off on One
34. Going the Wrong Way
35. Hamming - Grand Literary Acting
36. Harming Oneself / Putting Self in Harms Way
37. Hiding / Avoidance
38. Humorous Observation
39. Hypocrite
40. Inability to cope with inanimate objects
41. Inappropriate Music to a Scene
42. Inappropriateness
43. Increasing an Alert Status
44. Indirect Double Entendres
45. Irony
46. Jade comments - Lack of Knowledge (history, geography, science) / Incorrect Terminology
47. Job Specific Cliché
48. Lack of Self-Awareness
49. Lack of Social Skills
50. Losing Mind
51. Making a Fool of Another / Getting them to Make a Fool of Themselves
52. Making Enemies
53. Malapropism / misuse of Word, Phrase / Off-Cuff Wrong Saying
54. Mania
55. Matching Banter (Down a Blind Alley)
56. Me-First Ideology
57. Mirroring Someone / Object
58. Misleading People
59. Missing the Obvious - Stated / Visible
60. Mistaking the Secret Nod / Talk / Handshake
61. Misunderstanding / Not Bothering to Understand
62. Nerdy
63. Not Picking up the Vibe
64. Obstructing another character (verbally / physically)
65. Odd / Incorrect Analogy
66. Offensive / Blunt / Rude
67. Oneupmanship
68. Playing on a stereotyped lack of knowledge
69. Pop-Culture References
70. Private Joke / Job Specific Joke - not got by others
71. Proving them Wrong
72. Puerile Humour - Self Aware
73. Punchline Interruption (of someone else's dialogue - funny or otherwise)
74. React to Incident / Situation but leave it for Someone Else
75. Reaction to Incident
76. Reminder of Something Character is Trying to Avoid
77. Repeat Something (Twist it on the repeat)
78. Repetition (normal)
79. Repetition and Ignorance (They're all Dead Dave… Everyone's Dead)
80. Sarcasm
81. Saving Face
82. Self Loathing
83. Slapstick
84. Slow Response / Reaction (Purposeful)
85. Song / Poetry that doesn't Rhyme
86. Stating the Obvious
87. Stereotyping
88. Stitching Someone Up - Personal Gain / Avoidance
89. Stress Induced by Others
90. Sudden Outburst
91. Superiority
92. Surprise Response (abnormal in situation)
93. Taking Anger Out on Others
94. Talking Behind Someone's Back
95. Telling the Wrong Story
96. The "What did they say?" or "I'm not talking to them, tell them this…" 3 way
97. The Kitten -> Tiger Unexpected Unleashing
98. The Only One Who Knows - Being Ignored
99. Toilet Humour
100. Trying to be Careful and Making it Worse
101. Trying to be One of the Gang
102. Twisting Meaning of Someone's Statement
103. Unexpected / Unexplained Act whose Outcome Leads to Explanation
104. Unexpected Observation / Link
105. Used / Abused - Bemoaning Treatment at the Hands of Others
106. Wordplay
107. Worrying the Wider Public with offhand Comment