Filtering

"Filtering" is when the writer forces us to "look at rather than through" the point-of-view character's eyes.  So says Janet Burroway, author of eight novels and several books on creative writing, one of which is the most widely used text on the craft of writing fiction in the entire country. 

Filtering can inadvertently hold the reader at a distance, especially when working in a close 1st or 3rd-person point-of-view, and keeps the reader from sinking comfortably into the fictional dream.  One moment the reader is hunched over the POV character's shoulder, observing the world as if he is that character; seeing only what the character sees.  But stumble across a "filtered observation" and suddenly the reader finds himself looking at the character instead of with the character -- watching the character as the character watches something else.

In his book, The Art of Fiction, John Gardner refers to this as "the failure to run straight at an image; that is, the needless filtering of the image through some observing consciousness.  The amateur writes: 'Turning, she noticed two snakes fighting in among the rocks.' Compare: 'She turned.  In among the rocks, two snakes were fighting.' Generally speaking--though no laws are absolute in fiction--vividness urges that almost every occurrence of such phrases as "she noticed" and "she saw" be suppressed in favor of direct presentation of the thing seen."

The first time I read that paragraph by John Gardner I was totally confused.  But luckily there was Janet Burroway's  Writing Fiction, A Guide to Narrative Craft, to help clear up the confusion:

As Gardner says, no laws are absolute in fiction, but you may be surprised how much tighter, more in-the-moment, and vivid your writing becomes when you remove the filters.  Give the exercise below a shot and see if removing the filters doesn't improve the vividness and pace of your work-in-progress.

~
Janet Burroway's classic text, Writing Fiction, A Guide to Narrative Craft is available online at IndieBound and Amazon.

The Art of Fiction by John Gardner is available here.

International Plot Writing Month

Whoops... with all that was going on during the month of November (National Novel Writing Month, for instance) I completely neglected to post anything new in this blog.  Next week I'll post another writing exercise (the one about "filtering" in fiction that I mentioned in an earlier post on Beginning Writers).  But this week, because we're already ten days into December,  I wanted to let you know about something big going on this month over at Martha Alderson's blog on "plot".


As you know,  Martha is the Plot Whisperer, and on December 1st her website, Plot Whisperer for Writers and Readers, officially launched the Second Annual International Plot Writing Month.  This month, guided by Martha, we take the 50,000 words we wrote during those frenetic days of November and learn how to craft them into "a coherent piece, worthy of publication."  Day by day, step by step, the Plot Whisperer guides us through a sort of re-thinking process -- no writing required :-).  She helps us sort through our unwieldy manuscripts to find the potentially well-told story within; to prepare ourselves for that second draft; and to ultimately, (beginning in January!) shape the words into a readable, enjoyable, and possibly even publishable final manuscript. 


"The first draft of any writing project is considered the generative phase. The muse is often responsible for much of the generative phase. The writer acts as a conduit and allows the inspiration to come through onto the page. The generative phase is all about getting the words on the page.

At the end of the generative phase, a writer is often faced with a manuscript full of holes and missteps, confusion and chaos. This is part of the process in that editing in the generative phase risks stifling the muse, which often results in stagnation.

When a writer completes the generative phase the real work begins—crafting the words into a coherent story."
[From: The Plot Whisperer for Writers and Readers]

So if you have time, and you're ready to take your manuscript to the next level, hop over to the Plot Whisperer and check out International Plot Writing Month for yourself.  If you arrive late, and you will if you're just going there now, you can always scroll down and read through the earlier posts from December 1st onward. 


Good luck!
See you next week :-)


Leslie

It's that time of year again...

Hm.  I was going to write about "filtering" this week, but OMG:  It's almost November!

I can't believe it's here again so soon!  If you don't know what I'm talking about, it's National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) -- 30 caffeine-filled days of noveling pleasure and word-count frenzy in which we all try to write 1,667 words per day with the goal of completing a 50,000-word "shitty" first draft by midnight on November 30th.  Are you up for that? Are you ready to go??

There are so many ways to tackle this thing: 

l If you're a planner like me, you might prepare a detailed map outlining every chapter and every scene, with a character chart delineating each major character's growth and change throughout the entire story -- a master plan so to speak, so you'll know where you're going and how you plan to get there.  My advice is to print out your plan and pin it to the wall next to your laptop.  That way you'll have it to refer to whenever you get stuck, which if you're like me will happen quite often. 

l  If you're like some of my successful NaNo friends, you begin on November 1st with nothing but the seed of an idea germinating in the soft tissue of your brain.  The idea here is to sit yourself down in front of your computer and imagine a character or two, listen to what they tell you, and hope that their words trickle down from your brain to your fingertips. If you're lucky, you'll end the month like my friends have, with something unwieldy, surprising, and magnificent -- a rough first draft to take you through the rest of the year and possibly beyond.  That's when you'll apply structure and plot to shape the story into something compelling and meaningful. 

Flannery O'Connor liked to work this way.  She once said: "If you start with a real personality, a real character, then something is bound to happen; and you don't have to know before you begin.  In fact, it may be better if you don't know what before you begin.  You ought to be able to discover something from your stories."

l  Of course you can always use a combination of these two methods.  Ansen Dibell, author of Plot, calls this writing method "Outlining from Inside":

"Stories -- especially live, convincing stories -- will change under your hands.  That's the reason I've never been persuaded of the usefulness of outlines.  By other writers' experience and my own, I judge that you generally won't know how a story's going to go until you get close to the place where something is just about to happen.  It will take its own shape and tell you how it wants to go, if you listen and watch attentively for the ways it's telling you. 

            "My advice is that you should always know what your next set-piece is going to be." [Dibell defines a set-piece as "a big scene the reader can see coming and can look forward to awhile, either in fear or in hope, before it's reached."] "You should be laying the groundwork for it right up to the time it happens.  You should start that groundwork either from the story's beginning, or lay down the first seeds back before the previous set-piece, to mature and bloom later."

            "When you've written your set-piece, you should be looking ahead to the end, to see if you can see its shape any more clearly from this vantage point than you could before.  And if you can, make adjustments to make this scene lead more clearly, more precisely, toward the last cliff, with fewer possible turnings-away, so that the story, crisis by crisis, narrows down to a point that seems inevitable when it comes. 

            "I call it outlining from inside.  Blocking out the story, one set-piece at a time, from inside it, taking due account of what it seems so far to be trying to become.  That much outlining, I believe, every writer needs if his story is not to appear a funhouse, a random series of events sprung on the reader for no particular reason, gone too fast to have impact, leading from nothing to nothing.  You need some kind of an outline, some idea of where you're going and how, if you're going to keep your story out of the funhouse which, in fiction, is no fun at all.  Look ahead at least to your next major scene and get ready for it.  Then deliver."

           

l   Another method I've heard about (but never tried myself) is the "Snowflake Method" developed by Randy Ingermanson, physicist and author, in which you begin by writing a one-sentence summary of your novel in 15 words or less. You turn this little snow-crystal into a snowflake (and finally, a snowball) by rolling it through the snow-fields of your mind where hopefully it picks up more and more ice-crystals during each pass.  By November 30th at midnight you should have a massive and intricate snowball full of well-developed characters, detailed settings, and compelling dialogue.  It goes something like this:

            1.  Write the summary sentence of your story in 15 words or less.

            2.  Expand this sentence into a 5-sentence paragraph: one sentence for the story setup, one sentence for each of three "disasters" that take place during your novel, ideally each disaster worse for the protagonist than the last.  The last sentence  tells the ending.

            3.  Expand each sentence of your summary paragraph into a paragraph of it's own, fleshing out some of the disasters in your summary paragraph above.

            4.   Expand the one-page plot synopsis into a 4-page synopsis… etc., etc., etc.

You get the picture. Actually, it's much more detailed than that, and may be just what you need to organize your thoughts and turn them into a well-oiled page-turner.  You can get all the background information, and Randy Ingermanson's "Ten Steps of Design" at AdvancedFictionWriting (scroll down).

Anyone who's ever NaNo'd successfully will tell you that every writer has a slightly different method of reaching that 50,000-word goal by the end of November.  All I can tell you is what worked for me.  

Here's just the thing to help get you started.  It's a great little exercise from John Dufresne's wonderfully encouraging book on writing fiction, The Lie That Tells A Truth.  (Might be a good one to read in preparation for November 1st…)  The exercise below will not only get you thinking about the beginning of your novel, but will come in handy whenever you're ready to begin that next big scene.

If you haven't already signed up for National Novel Writing Month, I urge you to do it now, before it's too late. You'll have the time of your life and you'll end up with a writing project to take you through 2010 and beyond :-)

Good luck!

An exercise from John Dufresne to get you started:

John Dufresne is professor of creative writing in the MFA program at Florida International University in Miami, and author of The Lie That Tells A Truth, a Guide to Writing Fiction.  He has also authored four novels, and at least two short story collections that I know of. 

Flashback

Yesterday I changed my mind about how to structure my novel. This is nothing new -- I've gone back and forth with this for nearly four years now. My novel spans approximately six years in time, and though the events occurring in the earliest months are critical to the story's outcome, I want to keep the main focus on those events that take place during the final year of the story.

Telling the story in chronological order seems like the most straightforward way to go, but that option gives equal weight to both past and present events. Another option would be to tell the story in alternating parallel storylines, one chapter in the present, followed by a chapter of flashback, and then back to the present in the next chapter, and so on. This structure would also seem to put too much focus on my character's past actions. For now, I've settled on a third option: I'll begin each chapter in the present and then flash briefly back to an important scene from the past, giving just enough information to provide necessary motivation or to reveal character. These flashbacks will follow a chronological timeline, until hopefully by the end of Part I the past will have caught up to the present and I can proceed with the rest of the novel in the present time.

The only problem, of course, is that flashbacks can be difficult to pull off. "There is an inherent plot problem when you use flashbacks," writes James Scott Bell, author of Plot & Structure. "… forward momentum is stopped for a trip to the past. If not used properly, the reader can get frustrated or impatient (not to mention editors, who tend to distrust flashbacks altogether)."

But flashbacks can be a good thing, as Caren Gussoff notes in this excerpt from her excellent chapter on "Setting and Pacing" in Gotham Writers' Workshop: Writing Fiction, The Practical Guide:

One thing for sure, to be such a wizard we need to keep our readers from getting lost in time and space, to keep our transitions as smooth and inconspicuous as we possibly can. In her bookPlot (from the Elements of Fiction Writing series) Ansen Dibell writes:

One way to make sure you're solidly anchored before you make the leap back in time is through the use of sensory detail. Author  Rust Hills (Writing in General and the Short Story in Particular) writes:

Recently I've tried to pay attention to how some of my favorite authors manage to navigate so smoothly from present to past and out again. The following are just a few flashback transitions from one of my favorite short stories, "Tiny Smiling Daddy," by Mary Gaitskill (Read her stories. Gaitskill is a master at piloting the reader through time and space). Each of the following passages leads into a brief flashback scene. The last one is my favorite-- the way the author ferries the reader from a scene in the present action (He stopped at a crowded intersection, feeling like an ant in an enemy swarm), through a brief summary of events over a period of time (She wrote poems about heroic women warriors, she brought home strange books and magazines), to a particular, vivid moment in time (Kitty screamed at her, the tendons leaping out on her slender neck.... ) So fluid. So seemingly effortless!

So, if in your current writing project you're ready to "lean off the roof" and take your reader on a brief journey into your character's past, here's an exercise to help get you started:

James Scott Bell, Plot & Structure

Rust Hills, Writing in General and the Short Story in Particular

Ansen Dibell, Plot

Gotham Writers' Workshop: Writing Fiction: The Practical Guide (chapter on "Setting & Pacing" by instructor, Caren Gussoff)

Mary Gaitskill's collection of short stories: Because They Wanted To

Beginnings

Inspired by a writing contest, I've been spending time this week trying to decide where to begin my current novel—a project I've been working on (off and on) for the last four years. This isn't the first time I've attempted to write a "beginning" for this novel, although you might think so from my current state of panic and confusion ;-)

Do I begin with dialogue? Sounds like that might be a good option. Or maybe I should try to set the mood, to begin with a lush description of a particular setting, one with special significance for my characters? On the other hand, I might introduce a character instead, maybe begin by painting a physical portrait of my protagonist (or maybe his mother, his love interest, or his malicious older brother, the novel's antagonist). Should I enter the story in the middle of an argument? Or, maybe with a question posed by my narrator? Do I invite the reader in with a strong sensory impression? How about presenting a character need, instead? Or maybe a motive? What about an action? Or should I just combine all of these things together into one long scene?

It seems there are endless possibilities—at least a thousand good alternatives and hundreds of potential doorways into each unique story. Though there may be more than one "right" beginning for this story, in the end, I suppose, I can only choose one. The idea is to incite the reader's curiosity and draw him into my novel, to write a beginning that will somehow get him to stick with me, to want to read the next page, and the next. That said, I'd better pick a beginning that works :-)

Many good writers and creative writing professors have written books and articles about how to begin a story (a novel, a memoir, or creative nonfiction). Some of my favorites: David Lodge in his book, The Art of Fiction; Sol Stein, in Stein on Writing; Nancy Kress, in Beginnings, Middles, and Ends; and many others. My favorite lesson, (one I find myself returning to again and again), comes from Josip Novakovich, award-winning author and professor of English at Penn State University. In his book: Fiction Writer's Workshop (1995) he discusses fourteen different ways an author might choose to begin a piece of fiction.  As a teaser to get you to read the book,  I'm listing the ways, including the examples Novakovich gives from literature. What you don't see here is the author's specific and detailed analysis, giving the advantages and disadvantages of each different way of opening your novel, short story, or memoir. From his chapter on "Beginnings and Endings":

1. Open with Setting:  F. Scott Fitzgerald's Tender Is the Night:

On the pleasant shore of the French Riviera, about halfway between Marseilles and the Italian border, stands a large, proud, rose-colored hotel. Deferential palms cool its flushed façade, and before it stretches a short dazzling beach. Lately it has become a summer resort of notable and fashionable people…."

2. Open with an Idea: Charles Dickens' Hard Times:

"Now, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts: nothing else will ever be of any service to them…."

3. Open with a Strong Sensation: Jessica Hagedorn's Dogeaters:

1956. The air-conditioned darkness of the Avenue Theater smells of flowery pomade, sugary chocolates, cigarette smoke, and sweat.

4. Open with a Need or Motive: Katherine Mansfield's "Marriage a la Mode":

On his way to the station William remembered with a fresh pang of disappointment that he was taking nothing down to the kiddies. Poor little chaps! It was hard lines on them. Their first words always were as they ran to greet him, "What have you got for me, daddy?" and he had nothing.

5. Open with an Action: Irwin Shaw's "The Eighty-Yard Run":

The pass was high and wide and he jumped for it, feeling it slap flatly against his hands, as he shook his hips to throw off the halfback who was diving at him.

6. Open with Sex: Tama Janowitz's Slaves of New York:

After I became a prostitute, I had to deal with penises of every imaginable shape and size. Some large, others quite shriveled and pendulous of testicle.

7. Open with a Symbolic Object:  Jean Stafford's "A Country Love Story":

An antique sleigh stood in the yard, snow after snow banked up against its eroded runners.

8. Open with a Character Portrait: Charles D'Ambrosio's "Her Real Name":

The girl's scalp looked as though it had been singed by fire—strands of thatchy red hair snaked away from her face, then settled against her skin, pasted there by sweat and sunscreen and the blown grit and dust of travel.

9. Open with a Question: Ivan Turgenev's Fathers and Sons:

"Well, Peter, any sign of them yet?" This was the question addressed on the 20th of May, 1859, to his servant—a young and lusty fellow with whitish down on his chin and with small dim eyes—by a gentleman of just forty years of age, in a dusty overcoat and check trousers, as he emerged hatless on the low steps of a posting-station on the X highway.

10. Open with a Scene: Alexander Pushkin's "The Queen of Spades":

Card-playing was going on in the quarters of Narumov, an officer in the Guards.

11. Open with Travel: Reidar Joensson's My Life as a Dog:

The snowflakes had a hypnotic effect on me. I was getting more and more drowsy, but I needed to keep my eyes open. What if I missed my station and got off at the wrong one, rushed out into the white arctic tundra, totally dazed, only to be met by wolves who were ready to tear me to pieces! Now, that would be unforgivable and unworthy of a true Trapper.

12. Open with a Character's Thoughts: Saul Bellow's Herzog:

If I am out of my mind, it's all right with me, thought Moses Herzog.

13. Prediction: Richard Yates' The Easter Parade:

Neither of the Grimes sisters would have a happy life, and looking back it always seemed that the trouble began with their parents' divorce.

14. Open with an Anecdote: Anton Chekhov's "In the Ravine":

The village of Ukleyevo lay in the ravine, so that only the belfry and the chimneys of the cotton mills could be seen from the highway and the railroad station. When passers-by would ask what village it was, they were told: "That's the one where the sexton ate up all the caviar at the funeral."

Exercise: With your current project in mind, read through Novakovich's fourteen ways of beginning a story. As you read, think about how you might use each of these methods to imagine a new beginning for your short story, novel, or essay. Make notes. Some of these doorways won't work for your particular project. Write a rough, ten-minute draft for each of three new beginnings. You may be surprised to discover a new, more perfect opening to your fiction piece in progress.

Fiction Writer's Workshop (1998 version) by Josip Novakovich is available to purchase online at IndieBound.