CRAFT: or Crap: More on (moron) Openings
Mar. 14th, 2008 06:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shalannaPostings from the Pit. Man, am I ever nauseated. Both Tamiflu and Levaquin warn you via a yellow label sticker that you can get nausea from taking them. I was snoozin' on the sofa when Hubby brought in my Levaquin and a glass and insisted I take it. I couldn't get to the kitchen fast enough to get a cracker before the wave began. Still didn't help much!
But we're in luck. I already stole most of my entry from the denizens of the Fido WRITING mailing list!
It all started when someone quoted Jane Yolen: "It's not the opening line itself, but what it portends and what it pretends to be about. Where it leads. Where it points; what it signifies; what it sets up. The opening sentence is the DNA of fiction, carrying all the genetic material for the story."
This argues in favor of the "overview, philosophy, then focusing in" types of openings that I like. ("All happy families are alike." "My life is filled with little rituals." "All the Underwoods have guardian angels." "It was the best of times. . . .")
But my taste isn't the mainstream taste. *I* may love those, but they don't get picked out in blog contests, the Amazon contest, the Gather contest, and so forth. Could it be that these openings remind readers of the books they had to read for classes, and they resent the entire device now? You never can tell.
Barb Jernigan wrote: "...And, in any sort of writing, once an expectation is set, suddenly running contrary to it has to be done VERY carefully and to intended effect. Or face the consequences. Of course, consequences will be faced regardless. Some readers can't even handle changes in point-of-view."
Good point. I generally like to stick with one POV for an entire novel, as I consider every one of my novels (save the mysteries, to an extent) to be *about* the most important thing/event that ever happened to this character. It is the catalyst for his/her character change that takes place during the book's events, and it changes the character as shown in the character arc. It has to be the "most important" (scare quotes intentional) thing that has ever happened to shape that character. Otherwise, why would this series of events be important enough or interesting enough for us to read an entire book?
That got me in hot water with Pamela, who said that she didn't think books had to be like that. (And she's right--I'm talking about how to make a novel that's more likely to sell, as best I can tell. Lots of books that I like don't fit the mold.) She wrote, "I like looking at daily life, patterns of thought, the way that people interact and the shape of events. Sometimes I'm even aware that later on in these lives are more important, even tragic, events. But since history is contingent, I figure it's all important."
That's true, as well. I think this explains why I like reading LiveJournal and various weblogs: it's all about daily life, patterns of thought, and so on. Sure, there's drama, but mostly it's about incident. The dog did something cute, the kids did something cute, LOLcats, went to a convention, funny thing overheard at work. Stuff like that. I get a window into your life as if I'm your neighbor and we're commiserating over a cuppa. However, it seems to me that this kind of thing sells very well as memoir, but not as a novel.
She added, "It might be the most important thing in the life of the theater they all work for."
To which I replied with a *squeee*: "The same theater as in Mike Ford's _Casting Fortune_ (*which is on my top ten list*)?"
Maybe the theater is a character. Settings can be characters. Marfa, TX, is definitely a character in my Marfa Lights mystery. The Marfa Lights themselves are characters, in a way. Especially the way that I "drew" them.
I should probably qualify my theory by saying that when your book is from one character's POV and isn't a series mystery novel (where the amateur sleuth who's not in law enforcement keeps running across bodies, inexplicably enough), it is going to be MUCH easier to sell if it is about the most important event that happens to that character. Her wedding, her divorce, her triumph, her coming-of-age, her rediscovery of love, a criminal trial she was falsely accused in, the death of her identical twin, whatever. That way you can actually have a synopsis that doesn't get rejected out of hand with the scribbled remark, "This story doesn't have unity." (I heard that fairly often until I figured out how to extract a thread out of the book and have the synopsis be about "the important parts" the way that the synopsis-peruser expects.) I have been told that my characters go on a Don Quixote-like journey that's not what today's readers want. Several of my stories have been called "a picaresque" (even when I see them as the character's consciously chosen journey with a driving force that is apparently too subtle or not coming across.)
I am also told that the closer-in the psychic distance, the better. ("To avoid having to say 'he thought,' explains one blogging agent. "To help people identify.") Now, my second favorite book, _The Great Gatsby_, is told by Nick, an observer, and isn't that close-in--so therefore I'll bet that most agents/first readers today would send it back to me saying that I've chosen the wrong POV, that it has to be from Gatsby's POV or maybe even Daisy's.
Why? There's seemingly a rule in workshops that you get asked the question, "Whose story is this? Each scene, if not the entire novel, should be from the POV of the character who has the most at stake." In _Gatsby_, there's a reason the narrative is told from a distance*. But it's all literary and stuff, and who would "get it" when they're looking for commercial fiction that will sell well and make the numbers?
* [Maybe the perceived psychic distance is not THAT far away in _Gatsby_, but I know the text too well by now to be able to tell. Re-read it about once a year, along with the #1 novel and a few childhood favorites. Hey, maybe that's what's screwing me up!]
I believe that life is made of the small moments, though. And it all adds up. My favorite example of this in fiction may be my #1 novel, _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Today's readers--usually in ninth grade and not wanting to read it at all--yell, "Why does she spend time telling us about Scout not wanting to wear a dress, going to the African Methodist Episcopal church, finding out that Atticus can shoot a gun, and looking in the hollow tree for those toys?!" They don't have the patience to realize that by novel's end, you'll understand a lot more about what happens and why.
Okay, I can understand how tough it is for students who're looking at Barack Obama as our possible next president to believe that within living history a man could have been accused of raping a woman AND been convicted DESPITE the proof in the courtroom that he couldn't have done it as the accusers described, and have that outcome be mostly a foregone conclusion because of his race. I can even see why it's tough for some students to "get" why Atticus felt he had to take the case, even though it would not raise his standing in the community and would in fact get him zapped by many people. (Practical types, some students. Raised on "Wall Street" with its motto, "Greed is Good!" But they might've missed the irony in that one.) All the more reason why they should read the book and learn. But I digress.
Many teens (including the one I'm tutoring) don't even see the "Boo Radley comes out" situation as I did when I read TKaM. Life is so different nowadays that they can't relate, and they don't see why they'd want to put themselves in the mindset of another age/generation. They can't see why it would hurt Boo Radley to come out . . . or why he would stay in at all in the first place . . . or why he wasn't slapped into a hospital and given drugs and treatments. It is hopeless to explain, unless the teen actually wants to hear how it was in the pre-Prozac days of involuntary shock therapy, insulin shock, and lobotomies!! ("Suddenly, Last Summer" has not aged well, either. Along with much of the rest of Tennessee Williams.)
BUT anyhow. I love books that are mostly made out of the small events of a life. _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_ is on my top twenty list and is exactly that. _A Separate Peace_ is sortakinda that way, except that it does have "the most important thing I ever did wrong out of insane jealousy that I regret now" theme punching you in the face all through. The "life is made of the little things" way is loved in memoir, but not so often in fiction, it seems. I'd read that kind of fiction.
Unfortunately--at least as far as my sending out stuff has shown me--I feel my work has a better chance if it's more like what I describe when I say, "This is the rule." Even if it isn't really a hard-and-fast rule, it usually is something being bandied about in most how-to books and in workshops. They'll say that a book needs to be all about the biggest event ever in the life of this character, or all about our heroine pursuing her heart's desire, and it also has to have THIS and has to have THAT. If the judge (a first reader, an editor, an agent) doesn't see that in your work (even if it's there!), you don't have a good chance. I'm still battling this stuff. People say they love the voice of that novel and they get pulled along by the narrative drive of the other one, but that ultimately they're not salable in this market. That's where my concerns lie.
After all, I'm not getting any younger (especially on March 18th), and I'm just trying to find what IS salable in this market--I mean, something that I can stand to live with for as long as it takes to write a novel.
I've found that writing from the deep viewpoint of the main character makes my stuff resonate more. The downside is that you do always have to be thinking like that main character. You're in trouble if you don't like him/her and you're sufficiently different from him/her! My main characters are usually at least one part Mary Sue and one part me . . . their flaws are flaws I'm intimately familiar with from seeing them in myself or in my family, I think. Then I get into trouble for being too soft on 'em or too hard on 'em. It can get pretty tough in a mystery, too, trying to figure out how to have the sleuth guess or find out something she couldn't possibly know and wouldn't think to ask about! Enter the sister who thinks completely differently. (She is always fun to write.)
Laurie Campbell chimed in. I paraphrase: "[The right opening] contains the theme of the entire book. [For example, in Prussian Yarns, I open with] Otto by himself, fighting for the land he loves. [This opening] has more of the whole story in it than I had ever realised before this moment. His aloneness, his bewilderment, his love of the land, his fight, his courage, and the fact that his opponents are way closer than he knew. It's all in, if not the first single sentence, then certainly the first paragraph."
Yes!
My favorite openings have most of the story's theme implied in the opening line or two--a thesis statement, some might say, or the PREMISE of the novel, that premise to be proved (or disproven) by the following chapters (as Robert McKee might say.) I think I do buy into the idea of a novel having a premise that you have to "prove." Agent Natasha Kern wrote to me (in a detailed *rejection*, as usual) several years ago about how I hadn't proved my premise with _LR_ and how she thought I might go in and do that. She's also the one who said that Daphne should spend the book chasing her heart's desire. She could've said that just because of the type of book it is--a woman's emotional coming-of-age and realizing that she has to grow up and take charge. (I haven't yet figured out how to make Daphne be worthy. That's her big hangup and is probably a flaw in the novel.) I wish I could've done it right so that I might've caught Ms. Kern on the hook, though. That would be awesome.
I'm sure I've put enough flammable/inflammatory stuff in here to satisfy the world for a while, so I'll go lie down and watch the TiVo. Sounds like Hubby is playing back our episodes of "The Green Hornet"! Yay!!
"...and I shall shed my light over dark evil. For the dark things cannot stand the light of the Green Lantern!" Okay, "lantern" instead of "hornet" and no Bruce Lee to boot, but it's close enough.
! ! !
"The test of any good fiction is that you should care something for the characters; the good to succeed, the bad to fail. The trouble with most fiction is that you want them all to land in hell, together, as quickly as possible."--Mark Twain, _Mark Twain's Notebook_
But we're in luck. I already stole most of my entry from the denizens of the Fido WRITING mailing list!
It all started when someone quoted Jane Yolen: "It's not the opening line itself, but what it portends and what it pretends to be about. Where it leads. Where it points; what it signifies; what it sets up. The opening sentence is the DNA of fiction, carrying all the genetic material for the story."
This argues in favor of the "overview, philosophy, then focusing in" types of openings that I like. ("All happy families are alike." "My life is filled with little rituals." "All the Underwoods have guardian angels." "It was the best of times. . . .")
But my taste isn't the mainstream taste. *I* may love those, but they don't get picked out in blog contests, the Amazon contest, the Gather contest, and so forth. Could it be that these openings remind readers of the books they had to read for classes, and they resent the entire device now? You never can tell.
Barb Jernigan wrote: "...And, in any sort of writing, once an expectation is set, suddenly running contrary to it has to be done VERY carefully and to intended effect. Or face the consequences. Of course, consequences will be faced regardless. Some readers can't even handle changes in point-of-view."
Good point. I generally like to stick with one POV for an entire novel, as I consider every one of my novels (save the mysteries, to an extent) to be *about* the most important thing/event that ever happened to this character. It is the catalyst for his/her character change that takes place during the book's events, and it changes the character as shown in the character arc. It has to be the "most important" (scare quotes intentional) thing that has ever happened to shape that character. Otherwise, why would this series of events be important enough or interesting enough for us to read an entire book?
That got me in hot water with Pamela, who said that she didn't think books had to be like that. (And she's right--I'm talking about how to make a novel that's more likely to sell, as best I can tell. Lots of books that I like don't fit the mold.) She wrote, "I like looking at daily life, patterns of thought, the way that people interact and the shape of events. Sometimes I'm even aware that later on in these lives are more important, even tragic, events. But since history is contingent, I figure it's all important."
That's true, as well. I think this explains why I like reading LiveJournal and various weblogs: it's all about daily life, patterns of thought, and so on. Sure, there's drama, but mostly it's about incident. The dog did something cute, the kids did something cute, LOLcats, went to a convention, funny thing overheard at work. Stuff like that. I get a window into your life as if I'm your neighbor and we're commiserating over a cuppa. However, it seems to me that this kind of thing sells very well as memoir, but not as a novel.
She added, "It might be the most important thing in the life of the theater they all work for."
To which I replied with a *squeee*: "The same theater as in Mike Ford's _Casting Fortune_ (*which is on my top ten list*)?"
Maybe the theater is a character. Settings can be characters. Marfa, TX, is definitely a character in my Marfa Lights mystery. The Marfa Lights themselves are characters, in a way. Especially the way that I "drew" them.
I should probably qualify my theory by saying that when your book is from one character's POV and isn't a series mystery novel (where the amateur sleuth who's not in law enforcement keeps running across bodies, inexplicably enough), it is going to be MUCH easier to sell if it is about the most important event that happens to that character. Her wedding, her divorce, her triumph, her coming-of-age, her rediscovery of love, a criminal trial she was falsely accused in, the death of her identical twin, whatever. That way you can actually have a synopsis that doesn't get rejected out of hand with the scribbled remark, "This story doesn't have unity." (I heard that fairly often until I figured out how to extract a thread out of the book and have the synopsis be about "the important parts" the way that the synopsis-peruser expects.) I have been told that my characters go on a Don Quixote-like journey that's not what today's readers want. Several of my stories have been called "a picaresque" (even when I see them as the character's consciously chosen journey with a driving force that is apparently too subtle or not coming across.)
I am also told that the closer-in the psychic distance, the better. ("To avoid having to say 'he thought,' explains one blogging agent. "To help people identify.") Now, my second favorite book, _The Great Gatsby_, is told by Nick, an observer, and isn't that close-in--so therefore I'll bet that most agents/first readers today would send it back to me saying that I've chosen the wrong POV, that it has to be from Gatsby's POV or maybe even Daisy's.
Why? There's seemingly a rule in workshops that you get asked the question, "Whose story is this? Each scene, if not the entire novel, should be from the POV of the character who has the most at stake." In _Gatsby_, there's a reason the narrative is told from a distance*. But it's all literary and stuff, and who would "get it" when they're looking for commercial fiction that will sell well and make the numbers?
* [Maybe the perceived psychic distance is not THAT far away in _Gatsby_, but I know the text too well by now to be able to tell. Re-read it about once a year, along with the #1 novel and a few childhood favorites. Hey, maybe that's what's screwing me up!]
I believe that life is made of the small moments, though. And it all adds up. My favorite example of this in fiction may be my #1 novel, _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Today's readers--usually in ninth grade and not wanting to read it at all--yell, "Why does she spend time telling us about Scout not wanting to wear a dress, going to the African Methodist Episcopal church, finding out that Atticus can shoot a gun, and looking in the hollow tree for those toys?!" They don't have the patience to realize that by novel's end, you'll understand a lot more about what happens and why.
Okay, I can understand how tough it is for students who're looking at Barack Obama as our possible next president to believe that within living history a man could have been accused of raping a woman AND been convicted DESPITE the proof in the courtroom that he couldn't have done it as the accusers described, and have that outcome be mostly a foregone conclusion because of his race. I can even see why it's tough for some students to "get" why Atticus felt he had to take the case, even though it would not raise his standing in the community and would in fact get him zapped by many people. (Practical types, some students. Raised on "Wall Street" with its motto, "Greed is Good!" But they might've missed the irony in that one.) All the more reason why they should read the book and learn. But I digress.
Many teens (including the one I'm tutoring) don't even see the "Boo Radley comes out" situation as I did when I read TKaM. Life is so different nowadays that they can't relate, and they don't see why they'd want to put themselves in the mindset of another age/generation. They can't see why it would hurt Boo Radley to come out . . . or why he would stay in at all in the first place . . . or why he wasn't slapped into a hospital and given drugs and treatments. It is hopeless to explain, unless the teen actually wants to hear how it was in the pre-Prozac days of involuntary shock therapy, insulin shock, and lobotomies!! ("Suddenly, Last Summer" has not aged well, either. Along with much of the rest of Tennessee Williams.)
BUT anyhow. I love books that are mostly made out of the small events of a life. _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_ is on my top twenty list and is exactly that. _A Separate Peace_ is sortakinda that way, except that it does have "the most important thing I ever did wrong out of insane jealousy that I regret now" theme punching you in the face all through. The "life is made of the little things" way is loved in memoir, but not so often in fiction, it seems. I'd read that kind of fiction.
Unfortunately--at least as far as my sending out stuff has shown me--I feel my work has a better chance if it's more like what I describe when I say, "This is the rule." Even if it isn't really a hard-and-fast rule, it usually is something being bandied about in most how-to books and in workshops. They'll say that a book needs to be all about the biggest event ever in the life of this character, or all about our heroine pursuing her heart's desire, and it also has to have THIS and has to have THAT. If the judge (a first reader, an editor, an agent) doesn't see that in your work (even if it's there!), you don't have a good chance. I'm still battling this stuff. People say they love the voice of that novel and they get pulled along by the narrative drive of the other one, but that ultimately they're not salable in this market. That's where my concerns lie.
After all, I'm not getting any younger (especially on March 18th), and I'm just trying to find what IS salable in this market--I mean, something that I can stand to live with for as long as it takes to write a novel.
I've found that writing from the deep viewpoint of the main character makes my stuff resonate more. The downside is that you do always have to be thinking like that main character. You're in trouble if you don't like him/her and you're sufficiently different from him/her! My main characters are usually at least one part Mary Sue and one part me . . . their flaws are flaws I'm intimately familiar with from seeing them in myself or in my family, I think. Then I get into trouble for being too soft on 'em or too hard on 'em. It can get pretty tough in a mystery, too, trying to figure out how to have the sleuth guess or find out something she couldn't possibly know and wouldn't think to ask about! Enter the sister who thinks completely differently. (She is always fun to write.)
Laurie Campbell chimed in. I paraphrase: "[The right opening] contains the theme of the entire book. [For example, in Prussian Yarns, I open with] Otto by himself, fighting for the land he loves. [This opening] has more of the whole story in it than I had ever realised before this moment. His aloneness, his bewilderment, his love of the land, his fight, his courage, and the fact that his opponents are way closer than he knew. It's all in, if not the first single sentence, then certainly the first paragraph."
Yes!
My favorite openings have most of the story's theme implied in the opening line or two--a thesis statement, some might say, or the PREMISE of the novel, that premise to be proved (or disproven) by the following chapters (as Robert McKee might say.) I think I do buy into the idea of a novel having a premise that you have to "prove." Agent Natasha Kern wrote to me (in a detailed *rejection*, as usual) several years ago about how I hadn't proved my premise with _LR_ and how she thought I might go in and do that. She's also the one who said that Daphne should spend the book chasing her heart's desire. She could've said that just because of the type of book it is--a woman's emotional coming-of-age and realizing that she has to grow up and take charge. (I haven't yet figured out how to make Daphne be worthy. That's her big hangup and is probably a flaw in the novel.) I wish I could've done it right so that I might've caught Ms. Kern on the hook, though. That would be awesome.
I'm sure I've put enough flammable/inflammatory stuff in here to satisfy the world for a while, so I'll go lie down and watch the TiVo. Sounds like Hubby is playing back our episodes of "The Green Hornet"! Yay!!
"...and I shall shed my light over dark evil. For the dark things cannot stand the light of the Green Lantern!" Okay, "lantern" instead of "hornet" and no Bruce Lee to boot, but it's close enough.
"The test of any good fiction is that you should care something for the characters; the good to succeed, the bad to fail. The trouble with most fiction is that you want them all to land in hell, together, as quickly as possible."--Mark Twain, _Mark Twain's Notebook_
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no subject
Date: 2008-03-15 02:32 am (UTC)What fascinates me is that I went to an open read recently and everybody who switched POV in their work was critisized except mine. I think it is because I try to keep everything moving at lightening speed so everbody is so concerned with what's happening that the nuance's of the characters just infiltrate their minds without them realizing. HaHa! That's what I hope for anyway, but I'm not sure it works out and it certainly doesn't come naturally for me at all. I force myself to write fast-paced when I really want to wax into Charles Dickens mode. I'm trying to keep modern readers interested I guess.
Isn't it interesting how differently we all do things?
no subject
Date: 2008-03-15 03:24 am (UTC)P.
no subject
Date: 2008-03-15 02:53 pm (UTC)Get well soon, so you don't have to take that shit much longer.