I've often heard it said that writers have a "natural length" - set a particular author loose on a story idea and their stories will tend to come out in a particular length range. This also applies to the idea of "natural novel writers" whose ideas like to expand into longer books, and "natural short story writers" whose ideas are pithy and can be concisely expressed. Some people find it really hard to cross over this borderline; others find it less difficult.
I believe in natural length. I began as a novel writer, and for the longest time I was convinced that short stories just weren't for me. Then, once I started writing them, I learned a lot of things about story structure that I could bring back and apply to my novels. However, it turns out I do have a "natural length" for short stories - it runs between 7500-12,000 words. This is called the "novelette" length. I never set out to write a novelette; I just have an idea, organize it and write it... and guess what? It's a novelette.
I think that the difference between novel and short story writers may have something to do with structure. It's hard to say, but I do notice that I find it easier to take a large idea and render it in a small form than to take a small idea and render it in large form. When I take a large idea and shrink it, I remove everything that doesn't tie directly back into the main conflict thread. When I take a small idea and expand it, I often find everything I add in feels like fluff. Maybe it's just that I like the potent feeling in every sentence of the short form.
Another factor, though, might be what I call the fractal structure of novels. People talk a lot about the "hook" and about "arcs" and about the "climax" etc. The more I write, the more I realize that this same kind of structure happens at multiple levels. Each chapter needs to have its own hook, its own raising of stakes, its own climax. To some extent, even each smaller scene has this same pattern on a smaller scale. It's no wonder that novel chapters can so often be used as short stories!
This may be one reason why it's tricky to move from short to long. A string of short stories does not make a novel, because they'll have structure on the lower level, but they may not have structure on the larger level. That large-scale, across-the-novel trajectory may be difficult to identify and work into the progression of the shorter pieces. I don't mean to say that it can't be done, but I know I would find it tricky if I had created a sequence of stories and hadn't come into it already thinking about how to create the larger-scale pattern.
Have any of you had experience switching from long to short, or from short to long? What was it like for you? Have you taken a particular story and tried to change its format from novel to short or vice versa? I'd be interested to hear what your experience was like.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
Do characters really need to be likeable?
I've seen multiple discussions recently, in various locations, of whether characters in stories need to be likeable. At last I was inspired by Janice Hardy's post yesterday on what makes one POV "better" than another to write out my thoughts.
I don't personally think that all characters have to be likeable - not by a long stretch. I can see the point of those people who say much of a story may be lost if everyone has to be likeable. But I do remember feeling that I just couldn't stand the characters of "Seinfeld" - and for that reason I couldn't be bothered watching them for more than five minutes without feeling they'd robbed me of valuable time. What is the critical criterion?
My answer is going to seem overly simple, but I think characters have to be relatable, not likeable. There has to be some quality about them that makes you feel like you recognize them, and that they are real.
So what makes a character relatable?
This is a question that I've done a lot of thinking about. I write science fiction and fantasy, and that involves creating lots of alienness - alien languages, fantasy cultures, characters who are not human and characters temporally or physically (even physiologically) far divorced from our day-to-day experience. I don't get to work with the girl or boy next door, unless that person is about to encounter something really unexpected! However, in my writing I always strive to give my readers the insider's viewpoint. That means that if I want the story to succeed, particularly if I want to push a reader out of his or her usual way of thinking, it's absolutely essential for me to try to achieve that relatability, in order to invite reader investment in even the most unusual characters.
Every point of view character should have at least one relatable element - even antagonists. It's also likely that you'll want to find relatable elements for non-point of view characters. This kind of element could be:
From "Let the Word Take Me":
David Linden is a kid who is trying to win the approval of his father.
Allayo is a gecko-like alien. She is deeply principled and understands her life through her faith.
From "Cold Words":
Rulii is a 6'4" wolflike alien. He is discriminated against as an oppressed minority, and has paid a steep price for the power to help his people: he's addicted to a cocaine-like substance because it keeps him from shivering and thereby losing his ability to work toward justice.
From "At Cross Purposes":
Lynn is an engineer who loves her work and resents a boss who doesn't understand what she does.
Tsee is an otter-like alien. She would do anything to protect her twin brother, and she loves science and beautiful things.
From my WIP "For Love, For Power" (with special thanks to beta reader Jamie Todd Rubin for pointing this out):
Tagret is a privileged boy who loves his mother, suffers because his mother and father hate each other, and experiences awkwardness in trying to approach the girl he likes.
Aloran is born a servant, but believes in gender equality and becomes angry when he sees anyone abused.
Nekantor is a power-hungry boy (the antagonist) who suffers from mental illness including paranoia and obsessive-compulsive disorder.
From this list you may notice that I find character psychology to be a great ally. Even a character like Rulii who seems very strange, or someone very unlikeable like Nekantor, can be relatable. Funny enough, suffering for a recognizable reason - and by that I mean really experiencing distress - has huge potential for increasing relatability.
What about your characters do you find relatable? Are they likeable? Do you see a difference?
It's something to think about.
I don't personally think that all characters have to be likeable - not by a long stretch. I can see the point of those people who say much of a story may be lost if everyone has to be likeable. But I do remember feeling that I just couldn't stand the characters of "Seinfeld" - and for that reason I couldn't be bothered watching them for more than five minutes without feeling they'd robbed me of valuable time. What is the critical criterion?
My answer is going to seem overly simple, but I think characters have to be relatable, not likeable. There has to be some quality about them that makes you feel like you recognize them, and that they are real.
So what makes a character relatable?
This is a question that I've done a lot of thinking about. I write science fiction and fantasy, and that involves creating lots of alienness - alien languages, fantasy cultures, characters who are not human and characters temporally or physically (even physiologically) far divorced from our day-to-day experience. I don't get to work with the girl or boy next door, unless that person is about to encounter something really unexpected! However, in my writing I always strive to give my readers the insider's viewpoint. That means that if I want the story to succeed, particularly if I want to push a reader out of his or her usual way of thinking, it's absolutely essential for me to try to achieve that relatability, in order to invite reader investment in even the most unusual characters.
Every point of view character should have at least one relatable element - even antagonists. It's also likely that you'll want to find relatable elements for non-point of view characters. This kind of element could be:
- a relatable goal - e.g. wanting to fall in love, or wanting monetary or other success, wanting freedom or justice, wanting to create or protect family, or even just wanting to keep a full stomach and a roof over their heads, etc.
- a relatable external conflict - e.g. being up against racial or other discrimination (in the case of sf/f, we often see "other"), facing peer pressure, facing bullying, dealing with bureaucracy, dealing with a rival for the same goal, etc.
- a relatable personal characteristic (good or bad) - e.g. being deeply religious, being dedicated to one's work, having a disability, experiencing self-doubt, depression, or a recognizable mental illness, trying to pursue a virtuous life, being haunted by one's past mistakes, caring deeply for others, being unable to make a decision, etc.
From "Let the Word Take Me":
David Linden is a kid who is trying to win the approval of his father.
Allayo is a gecko-like alien. She is deeply principled and understands her life through her faith.
From "Cold Words":
Rulii is a 6'4" wolflike alien. He is discriminated against as an oppressed minority, and has paid a steep price for the power to help his people: he's addicted to a cocaine-like substance because it keeps him from shivering and thereby losing his ability to work toward justice.
From "At Cross Purposes":
Lynn is an engineer who loves her work and resents a boss who doesn't understand what she does.
Tsee is an otter-like alien. She would do anything to protect her twin brother, and she loves science and beautiful things.
From my WIP "For Love, For Power" (with special thanks to beta reader Jamie Todd Rubin for pointing this out):
Tagret is a privileged boy who loves his mother, suffers because his mother and father hate each other, and experiences awkwardness in trying to approach the girl he likes.
Aloran is born a servant, but believes in gender equality and becomes angry when he sees anyone abused.
Nekantor is a power-hungry boy (the antagonist) who suffers from mental illness including paranoia and obsessive-compulsive disorder.
From this list you may notice that I find character psychology to be a great ally. Even a character like Rulii who seems very strange, or someone very unlikeable like Nekantor, can be relatable. Funny enough, suffering for a recognizable reason - and by that I mean really experiencing distress - has huge potential for increasing relatability.
What about your characters do you find relatable? Are they likeable? Do you see a difference?
It's something to think about.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Culture Share: Philippines - Gates and Exterior Walls by Charles Tan
This post is part of The Writer's International Culture Share, in which writers discuss their personal experience with world cultures: Charles Tan discusses gates and exterior walls in the Philippines.
Gates and Exterior Walls by Charles TanAs a Fine Arts student, I was taught various design aesthetics. Gothic architecture. Modern architecture. It's even more interesting when you apply it to Philippine homes, mainly because we've been heavily influenced by our previous colonizers like Spain and the US. And yet, when I compare the image of houses here to houses elsewhere, there is a significant difference between the two. I couldn't quite pinpoint it at first and it was the simplicity of it all that eluded me: Philippine houses have gates and exterior walls.
This is a significant cultural detail. It's not because Filipinos are paranoid by nature, but if we analyze Philippine history, we're very much a feudal country and that kind of legacy has had a lasting impact. Just as an example, land ownership is a significant portion in our Constitution and land reform is a never-ending political issue. The obsession with land is a factor in our architecture, be it consciously or unconsciously.
Every single house in the Philippines has a gate and an external wall (the only exception are squatter's homes). Whether you're rich or poor, your home will always have those two. Sometimes, it's just a token presence rather than any practical hindrance: I've visited houses where the gates are only waist high and the "wall" is actually a short fence. At other times, it's a secure fortress, with steel gates more than twice my height and equally towering walls that are reinforced with barbed wire. Because of this, certain US concepts are foreign to us. We do have lawns but they're hardly open to the public so the morning paper will never end up on our lawn. Similarly, automated garage doors are redundant so most people--even wealthy citizens--simply don't have a garage door.
What's interesting with gates and exterior walls is that there's variation in design and not all of them are practical in keeping out intruders. Our gate for example looks like a net so anyone passing by can see through it, and when I get locked out of the house, I easily climb the gate. (Of course it has to be said that we live in a village, which is a walled-off community.) On the other extreme is a gate with the paint faded and all you have is this huge metal slab with a peekhole. Exterior walls have a lot of variance. I've seen some home owners allow vegetation to cover their gate while others make do with a paint job. What's on top of the exterior wall however is what's surprising. The school near our house, for example, has shards of broken glass embedded on top of their walls to deter trespassers. Some houses incorporate spikes and fences into their design. And others are simply flat, relying on sheer height to deter intruders.
The presence of gates and exterior walls is so commonplace that many of us take it for granted and it's simply assumed when discussing architecture. From a cultural perspective, this all ties back on how we value land in the country and this is simply one manifestation of it.
Charles Tan lives in Manila, in the Philippines.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Wednesday Worldbuilding Workshop: Orienting by marking insiders vs. outsiders
Welcome to week 13 of the Wednesday Worldbuilding Workshop! This week's entry comes from Siri Paulson. Thanks for submitting - it was great to see a couple of new entries come in this week! As I generally do, I'll begin by highlighting in blue all the words that I use to pick up worldbuilding information, and directly following the excerpt, I'll talk about how those words give me entry into the world.
***
Athneh shifted position on the carpet where she sat cross-legged. "Herbs from the fish-kin!" she cried. "Healing herbs for all your ills!" Around her on the market quay, City-dwellers hurried on without stopping. It made her edgy.
A Ferrican stopped before her. She raised her eyes past the crenellated hem of his tunic to the bow in his hand. "Expecting trouble, sir?"
"I need a protection charm," he said in accented Kemetian. That wasn't exactly an answer, but it wasn't a denial, either.
Guilt warred with shame. "I...I have none, sir."
"But you're a fish-kin. Or are you an Islander trying to make a profit off fake magic?"
Athneh gasped, the insult rendering her speechless. Her people might live on the Islands too, but they weren't the same as the Islanders. Even Ferricans knew that.
Ruri leaned over from behind the weavings she had spread out next to Athneh's carpet. "She's all out of the charms you want, sir. They've been popular today."
Athneh shot her friend a grateful glance. "That's right," she said to the Ferrican. "But I have herbs to make your mind sharper and your movements faster. Would those tempt you?"
"Fine, but be quick."
Athneh blinked. Ferricans were normally chatty. She took several bunches from the assortment before her and wrapped them in a cloth. "Brew two pinches of this into a tea and drink it. If you're in a hurry, use cold water, but the effect will be less pronounced. Don't use more than two pinches per day or you'll get the shakes. Any questions?" She put the herbs into a small sewn bag and looked up at him.
"How much?"
"Two packets of salt, sir."
The Ferrican dropped the packets into her hand and took the bag. He glanced from Ruri to Athneh and then their husbands in the small boats tied up behind them. "Be careful, fish-kin. The Kemete have cut off negotiations with the City. Everyone's waiting to see what they do next."
Ruri opened her mouth, Athneh went to elbow her, and a horn from the City walls made them both jump. Athneh whipped her head around to see the sentry on the south wall, facing the coast of Kemet across the strait, wind his bronze horn a second time. The Ferrican ran off.
"Quickly!" called Jorlath from the boat he shared with Ruri. "We've got to get out of here!"
Ruri, gone almost as pale as the Ferrican, began to roll up her weavings without a word.
Brin said mildly from the other boat, "Perhaps it would be better to stay within the walls."
Athneh shivered. The very idea made the City seem smaller, despite the whitewashed buildings that rose three or even four storeys. She had always liked the gentle curves of the walls and roofs, the window-boxes overflowing with flowers from the Islands and the river delta of Kemet and beyond, but now all she wanted was to be on the open water that surrounded the City.
***
The first piece of world information we get here is the name, Athneh. Alternate-language names really establish difference fast! One word, and instantly we're not in Kansas any more - probably science fiction or fantasy. We can tell that we're not dealing with aliens or high tech pretty quickly though, because of carpet and cross-legged. The fact that our character is selling herbs and calling out her wares gives me a sense that we're dealing with lower technology, and evidence is building for a fantasy scenario. The term fish-kin also has a fantasy feel to it because if the word "kin," so I'm not surprised when we find that the herbs being sold are healing herbs for all your ills. (I should remark, though, that words like these have been used for unusually flavored sf, notably by Michael Flynn). We get our first sense of physical setting beyond the carpet and the herbs (which suggest climate) with the words market quay and City-dwellers. The word City written with a capital letter gives me some cultural information to add to that provided by the girl calling out her wares on the market quay, indicating that life here centers around a particular city (that I'll be looking to find out more about).
Next comes the word Ferrican. The ending -an suggests this is some kind of affiliation word, most likely a nationality. The crenellated hem of his tunic suggests his culture through fashion. The bow suggests military technology level. Also, Athneh uses sir to be deferential, providing social information. It's not clear how much this indicates that the Ferrican must be revered, however, because using "sir" also is natural between a merchant and customer. We get our first hint of magic with protection charm. Kemetian is clearly a language, though who it naturally belongs to is not clear. Soon the piece starts to indicate social strife between different groups, when the Ferrican accuses Athneh of being an Islander trying to make a profit off fake magic. This at the same time suggests that real magic is possible. We are told that this is a serious insult, and we see some of Athneh's ideas about what people in this world know about each other, something which continues later with Ferricans were normally chatty. The instructions for brewing the tea give hints of culture, and her description of the shakes hints about knowledge of the body in this world. The Ferrican then buys the herbs with two packets of salt, a very distinctively different form of currency.
More social information keeps coming. Soon we get husbands in the small boats tied up behind them, a glimpse of daily practices. Then politics ensues with the Kemete cutting off negotiations with the City. Toward the end of the excerpt we get a physical description of the the walls of the city, its whitewashed buildings and window-boxes, and an indication of the larger surround with river delta of Kemet.
All right. At this point I'm going to shift gears and go into my brown-marked think aloud commentary. I don't intend these to be any kind of corrections, but I'll share my thoughts and any confusion I might have.
***
Athneh **[I'm thinking fantasy here, though the language pattern isn't so traditional that I can immediately rule out sf or some world language I don't know] shifted position on the carpet where she sat cross-legged.**[Clearly she's human; if she weren't, I'd expect some hint here.] "Herbs from the fish-kin!" she cried. "Healing herbs for all your ills!" **[Calling out and selling healing herbs gives me another fantasy nudge. I'm not sure whether I'm looking at real magic yet or not.] Around her on the market quay,**[interesting location.] City-dwellers **[I think the quay is in or near the City, but I'm not sure about their precise relation] hurried on without stopping. It made her edgy.
A Ferrican **[this seems either like a nationality (first guess) or social affiliation like a monastic or military affiliation] stopped before her. She raised her eyes past the crenellated hem of his tunic **[I see him quite clearly] to the bow **[is this a fashion, or a weapon? It's not clear for another few words; an adjective might clarify this] in his hand. "Expecting trouble, sir?"**[She treats him deferentially, but this could just be because of her job, not his]
"I need a protection charm," **[so there's magic here.] he said in accented Kemetian. **[A language - but whose language? Not native for him, apparently, but it comes a bit out of the blue and makes me shift gears when I'm busy on the lookout for what "Ferrican" means.] That wasn't exactly an answer, but it wasn't a denial, either.
Guilt warred with shame. **[wow, a pretty extreme reaction to just not having what he wants. What did she do? Who could be is holding her to this standard?] "I...I have none, sir."
"But you're a fish-kin.**[oh okay. I thought she might be fish-kin, but she could just have been a merchant selling their stuff.] Or are you an Islander **[yet another social group. It's starting to give me difficulty orienting myself.] trying to make a profit off fake magic?"**[fake magic implies that real magic is possible, and interesting confirmation of the hint earlier.]
Athneh gasped, the insult rendering her speechless.**[Another extreme reaction. Athneh seems very sensitive, and I wish I had some hint, from her judgment, of why this was such an insult. Otherwise it feels like we're being handed the information that this should be offensive.] Her people might live on the Islands too, but they weren't the same as the Islanders. Even Ferricans knew that.**[This goes a little way toward fixing my sense of who the Islanders are, but I still know nothing about them to back up her sense of insult. I do get the hint that she doesn't think too highly of Ferricans, though.]
Ruri leaned over from behind the weavings she had spread out next to Athneh's carpet. **[Oh, so she's not alone here. Is this a friend, or just a fellow merchant? It's not clear.] "She's all out of the charms you want, sir. They've been popular today." **[I'm not sure if she's telling the truth, because of the way Athneh reacted.]
Athneh shot her friend **[oh, a friend.] a grateful glance. "That's right," she said to the Ferrican. "But I have herbs to make your mind sharper and your movements faster. Would those tempt you?"**[I wonder why she didn't go straight to this, rather than admitting she didn't have what he wanted. It makes her come across as less experienced as an herb-seller. Is she very young?]
"Fine, but be quick."
Athneh blinked. Ferricans were normally chatty. **[This one has already been established as rude, so I'm not sure why she'd be surprised here.] She took several bunches from the assortment before her and wrapped them in a cloth. "Brew two pinches of this into a tea and drink it. If you're in a hurry, use cold water, but the effect will be less pronounced. Don't use more than two pinches per day or you'll get the shakes. **[I like the sense of medical knowledge she's showing here. That is a nice, and unusual, addition to the world.] Any questions?" She put the herbs into a small sewn bag and looked up at him.
"How much?"
"Two packets of salt, sir."**[hm, alternate currency - cool. I'm not sure how far we are from the sea, since only "quay" has told me anything about the possible nearness of water to this location. I'd be surprised to see salt as currency so close to the sea where people could make their own, but maybe there's a larger political group in the area which has established the use of this currency.]
The Ferrican dropped the packets into her hand and took the bag. He glanced from Ruri to Athneh and then their husbands in the small boats tied up behind them.**[wow, I'm revising my sense of Athneh's age here, and also my sense of the nearness of water! I really like the gender-relations and culture information in this though.] "Be careful, fish-kin. The Kemete have cut off negotiations with the City. **[I link this with Kemetian, the language he spoke, through grammar, but I have little sense of who these people are, or where.] Everyone's waiting to see what they do next."
Ruri opened her mouth, Athneh went to elbow her, and a horn from the City walls **[I am guessing they are outside the City at this time.] made them both jump. Athneh whipped her head around to see the sentry on the south wall, facing the coast of Kemet across the strait,**[oh, so Kemet is not far away. I still can't figure out where they are relative to the walls, though this seems to indicate they're probably inside.] wind his bronze horn a second time. The Ferrican ran off. **[Does she have a guess as to his purpose or where he might go?]
"Quickly!" called Jorlath from the boat he shared with Ruri. "We've got to get out of here!"**[I see his fear. It might be nice to have a sense of what kind of place he thinks is safer.]
Ruri, gone almost as pale as the Ferrican, began to roll up her weavings without a word.
Brin said mildly from the other boat,**[Is it not Athneh's boat?] "Perhaps it would be better to stay within the walls."**[Oh, so they are inside the walls?]
Athneh shivered. The very idea made the City seem smaller, despite the whitewashed buildings that rose three or even four storeys. **[I wish I'd seen some of this earlier, because it's hard for me to orient to her idea of changing locations when I don't have the location firmly established already.] She had always liked the gentle curves of the walls and roofs, the window-boxes overflowing with flowers from the Islands and the river delta of Kemet**[Is this where the flowers are from? Somehow I put it as something she liked (i.e. I guessed it was in the main clause not the subordinate clause] and beyond, but now all she wanted was to be on the open water that surrounded the City. **[This makes me wonder how far it is, and why it would be better to be there than within the walls. Potentially cool insight into her thinking, but I'm not quite able to tie it down.]
***
First of all, let me thank Siri for submitting - thanks, Siri! I liked a lot of things about this piece, as you can see. You're ambitious here, giving us a lot of social groups, affiliations, potential strife, insult, etc. all of which is good. What I did find, though, was that I was doing a lot of hopping about from one piece of new information to the next, wishing for more orientation, more description, more detail (I felt disoriented quite early, certainly by the time the Ferrican spoke in Kemetian). I don't think that it's a question of just adding more, however, because it would be easy for the storyline of a potential attack on the city to be lost in a flood of details. What I'd like to see is a stronger sense of alignment with Athneh. So that her reactions don't seem extreme and so that your explanations don't feel external to her, I'd like to see you get closer to her, and try to put things in terms of her awareness of insiders and outsiders. Okay, so she's sitting on a quay calling out her wares, herbs from the fish-kin. But is the quay her home territory? Is it familiar to her? And are the fish-kin her people? Just placing an adjective or two, giving us a detail about the nearness of the water being comforting to her, though the walls make her feel hemmed in, for example - that would do a whole lot to show her identity and ground her judgments of the things around her.
She would react to the Ferrican in accordance with how her people view Ferricans - I'd like to know whether a Ferrican is a type of City-dweller, such as a member of the military, or a traveler from a foreign land which might have an independent reputation in the eyes of fish-kin. The language Kemetian threw me off - why would he be speaking it? Because it's a lingua franca? Because he's been sent by Kemetians? What would Athneh guess about him? She'd certainly have a strong emotional reaction if she's hearing the language of the enemy, particularly if speaking Kemetian is unusual. The reference to Islanders comes out of the blue, since there are no Islanders here and I'm not sure how they are relevant to the larger conflict; I'm thinking the whole insult sequence might be left out of this piece and saved for sometime later. We aren't grounded enough in Athneh's worldview at this point for her sense of insult to strike us naturally; instead I'm feeling like I'm being informed of the value of the insult. It could be very effective, though, if used later when I have more knowledge of the complex relations in this world.
It can often be helpful to go through and categorize everything in a scene in terms of whether it is an insider object/concept or an outsider object/concept. Particularly in an interesting situation like this where there are lots of conflicting social groups. Athneh's judgments of "mine" and "yours," of "homelike" and "foreign" can then serve as valuable signposts for the reader. You can also explore a me/you/they relation, such as having fish-kin be "we," City-dwellers "you" and Kemetians "they" (I'm not sure where the Ferrican fits into this, but you might have a better sense of that).
Please don't feel any pressure to reveal the whole picture of social complexity so early in the story. The longer the list of players, the more valuable it is to start with as few as possible, and let the main character slowly introduce us. I've dealt with this a lot, because of having a society with seven caste levels. You should have seen my readers' heads spinning when I tried to introduce them all at once! I think you've got a lot of really cool stuff here, and tons of social information to impart, so I'd really encourage you to start by orienting us to a very basic insider/outsider sense when we first meet Athneh, (I'd probably begin with fish-kin vs. City and use her judgment of physical details to help ground the location as well) and then slowly complicate it each time another person or event enters her life.
I hope you find my comments helpful. Readers, you are welcome to comment constructively below.
***
Athneh shifted position on the carpet where she sat cross-legged. "Herbs from the fish-kin!" she cried. "Healing herbs for all your ills!" Around her on the market quay, City-dwellers hurried on without stopping. It made her edgy.
A Ferrican stopped before her. She raised her eyes past the crenellated hem of his tunic to the bow in his hand. "Expecting trouble, sir?"
"I need a protection charm," he said in accented Kemetian. That wasn't exactly an answer, but it wasn't a denial, either.
Guilt warred with shame. "I...I have none, sir."
"But you're a fish-kin. Or are you an Islander trying to make a profit off fake magic?"
Athneh gasped, the insult rendering her speechless. Her people might live on the Islands too, but they weren't the same as the Islanders. Even Ferricans knew that.
Ruri leaned over from behind the weavings she had spread out next to Athneh's carpet. "She's all out of the charms you want, sir. They've been popular today."
Athneh shot her friend a grateful glance. "That's right," she said to the Ferrican. "But I have herbs to make your mind sharper and your movements faster. Would those tempt you?"
"Fine, but be quick."
Athneh blinked. Ferricans were normally chatty. She took several bunches from the assortment before her and wrapped them in a cloth. "Brew two pinches of this into a tea and drink it. If you're in a hurry, use cold water, but the effect will be less pronounced. Don't use more than two pinches per day or you'll get the shakes. Any questions?" She put the herbs into a small sewn bag and looked up at him.
"How much?"
"Two packets of salt, sir."
The Ferrican dropped the packets into her hand and took the bag. He glanced from Ruri to Athneh and then their husbands in the small boats tied up behind them. "Be careful, fish-kin. The Kemete have cut off negotiations with the City. Everyone's waiting to see what they do next."
Ruri opened her mouth, Athneh went to elbow her, and a horn from the City walls made them both jump. Athneh whipped her head around to see the sentry on the south wall, facing the coast of Kemet across the strait, wind his bronze horn a second time. The Ferrican ran off.
"Quickly!" called Jorlath from the boat he shared with Ruri. "We've got to get out of here!"
Ruri, gone almost as pale as the Ferrican, began to roll up her weavings without a word.
Brin said mildly from the other boat, "Perhaps it would be better to stay within the walls."
Athneh shivered. The very idea made the City seem smaller, despite the whitewashed buildings that rose three or even four storeys. She had always liked the gentle curves of the walls and roofs, the window-boxes overflowing with flowers from the Islands and the river delta of Kemet and beyond, but now all she wanted was to be on the open water that surrounded the City.
***
The first piece of world information we get here is the name, Athneh. Alternate-language names really establish difference fast! One word, and instantly we're not in Kansas any more - probably science fiction or fantasy. We can tell that we're not dealing with aliens or high tech pretty quickly though, because of carpet and cross-legged. The fact that our character is selling herbs and calling out her wares gives me a sense that we're dealing with lower technology, and evidence is building for a fantasy scenario. The term fish-kin also has a fantasy feel to it because if the word "kin," so I'm not surprised when we find that the herbs being sold are healing herbs for all your ills. (I should remark, though, that words like these have been used for unusually flavored sf, notably by Michael Flynn). We get our first sense of physical setting beyond the carpet and the herbs (which suggest climate) with the words market quay and City-dwellers. The word City written with a capital letter gives me some cultural information to add to that provided by the girl calling out her wares on the market quay, indicating that life here centers around a particular city (that I'll be looking to find out more about).
Next comes the word Ferrican. The ending -an suggests this is some kind of affiliation word, most likely a nationality. The crenellated hem of his tunic suggests his culture through fashion. The bow suggests military technology level. Also, Athneh uses sir to be deferential, providing social information. It's not clear how much this indicates that the Ferrican must be revered, however, because using "sir" also is natural between a merchant and customer. We get our first hint of magic with protection charm. Kemetian is clearly a language, though who it naturally belongs to is not clear. Soon the piece starts to indicate social strife between different groups, when the Ferrican accuses Athneh of being an Islander trying to make a profit off fake magic. This at the same time suggests that real magic is possible. We are told that this is a serious insult, and we see some of Athneh's ideas about what people in this world know about each other, something which continues later with Ferricans were normally chatty. The instructions for brewing the tea give hints of culture, and her description of the shakes hints about knowledge of the body in this world. The Ferrican then buys the herbs with two packets of salt, a very distinctively different form of currency.
More social information keeps coming. Soon we get husbands in the small boats tied up behind them, a glimpse of daily practices. Then politics ensues with the Kemete cutting off negotiations with the City. Toward the end of the excerpt we get a physical description of the the walls of the city, its whitewashed buildings and window-boxes, and an indication of the larger surround with river delta of Kemet.
All right. At this point I'm going to shift gears and go into my brown-marked think aloud commentary. I don't intend these to be any kind of corrections, but I'll share my thoughts and any confusion I might have.
***
Athneh **[I'm thinking fantasy here, though the language pattern isn't so traditional that I can immediately rule out sf or some world language I don't know] shifted position on the carpet where she sat cross-legged.**[Clearly she's human; if she weren't, I'd expect some hint here.] "Herbs from the fish-kin!" she cried. "Healing herbs for all your ills!" **[Calling out and selling healing herbs gives me another fantasy nudge. I'm not sure whether I'm looking at real magic yet or not.] Around her on the market quay,**[interesting location.] City-dwellers **[I think the quay is in or near the City, but I'm not sure about their precise relation] hurried on without stopping. It made her edgy.
A Ferrican **[this seems either like a nationality (first guess) or social affiliation like a monastic or military affiliation] stopped before her. She raised her eyes past the crenellated hem of his tunic **[I see him quite clearly] to the bow **[is this a fashion, or a weapon? It's not clear for another few words; an adjective might clarify this] in his hand. "Expecting trouble, sir?"**[She treats him deferentially, but this could just be because of her job, not his]
"I need a protection charm," **[so there's magic here.] he said in accented Kemetian. **[A language - but whose language? Not native for him, apparently, but it comes a bit out of the blue and makes me shift gears when I'm busy on the lookout for what "Ferrican" means.] That wasn't exactly an answer, but it wasn't a denial, either.
Guilt warred with shame. **[wow, a pretty extreme reaction to just not having what he wants. What did she do? Who could be is holding her to this standard?] "I...I have none, sir."
"But you're a fish-kin.**[oh okay. I thought she might be fish-kin, but she could just have been a merchant selling their stuff.] Or are you an Islander **[yet another social group. It's starting to give me difficulty orienting myself.] trying to make a profit off fake magic?"**[fake magic implies that real magic is possible, and interesting confirmation of the hint earlier.]
Athneh gasped, the insult rendering her speechless.**[Another extreme reaction. Athneh seems very sensitive, and I wish I had some hint, from her judgment, of why this was such an insult. Otherwise it feels like we're being handed the information that this should be offensive.] Her people might live on the Islands too, but they weren't the same as the Islanders. Even Ferricans knew that.**[This goes a little way toward fixing my sense of who the Islanders are, but I still know nothing about them to back up her sense of insult. I do get the hint that she doesn't think too highly of Ferricans, though.]
Ruri leaned over from behind the weavings she had spread out next to Athneh's carpet. **[Oh, so she's not alone here. Is this a friend, or just a fellow merchant? It's not clear.] "She's all out of the charms you want, sir. They've been popular today." **[I'm not sure if she's telling the truth, because of the way Athneh reacted.]
Athneh shot her friend **[oh, a friend.] a grateful glance. "That's right," she said to the Ferrican. "But I have herbs to make your mind sharper and your movements faster. Would those tempt you?"**[I wonder why she didn't go straight to this, rather than admitting she didn't have what he wanted. It makes her come across as less experienced as an herb-seller. Is she very young?]
"Fine, but be quick."
Athneh blinked. Ferricans were normally chatty. **[This one has already been established as rude, so I'm not sure why she'd be surprised here.] She took several bunches from the assortment before her and wrapped them in a cloth. "Brew two pinches of this into a tea and drink it. If you're in a hurry, use cold water, but the effect will be less pronounced. Don't use more than two pinches per day or you'll get the shakes. **[I like the sense of medical knowledge she's showing here. That is a nice, and unusual, addition to the world.] Any questions?" She put the herbs into a small sewn bag and looked up at him.
"How much?"
"Two packets of salt, sir."**[hm, alternate currency - cool. I'm not sure how far we are from the sea, since only "quay" has told me anything about the possible nearness of water to this location. I'd be surprised to see salt as currency so close to the sea where people could make their own, but maybe there's a larger political group in the area which has established the use of this currency.]
The Ferrican dropped the packets into her hand and took the bag. He glanced from Ruri to Athneh and then their husbands in the small boats tied up behind them.**[wow, I'm revising my sense of Athneh's age here, and also my sense of the nearness of water! I really like the gender-relations and culture information in this though.] "Be careful, fish-kin. The Kemete have cut off negotiations with the City. **[I link this with Kemetian, the language he spoke, through grammar, but I have little sense of who these people are, or where.] Everyone's waiting to see what they do next."
Ruri opened her mouth, Athneh went to elbow her, and a horn from the City walls **[I am guessing they are outside the City at this time.] made them both jump. Athneh whipped her head around to see the sentry on the south wall, facing the coast of Kemet across the strait,**[oh, so Kemet is not far away. I still can't figure out where they are relative to the walls, though this seems to indicate they're probably inside.] wind his bronze horn a second time. The Ferrican ran off. **[Does she have a guess as to his purpose or where he might go?]
"Quickly!" called Jorlath from the boat he shared with Ruri. "We've got to get out of here!"**[I see his fear. It might be nice to have a sense of what kind of place he thinks is safer.]
Ruri, gone almost as pale as the Ferrican, began to roll up her weavings without a word.
Brin said mildly from the other boat,**[Is it not Athneh's boat?] "Perhaps it would be better to stay within the walls."**[Oh, so they are inside the walls?]
Athneh shivered. The very idea made the City seem smaller, despite the whitewashed buildings that rose three or even four storeys. **[I wish I'd seen some of this earlier, because it's hard for me to orient to her idea of changing locations when I don't have the location firmly established already.] She had always liked the gentle curves of the walls and roofs, the window-boxes overflowing with flowers from the Islands and the river delta of Kemet**[Is this where the flowers are from? Somehow I put it as something she liked (i.e. I guessed it was in the main clause not the subordinate clause] and beyond, but now all she wanted was to be on the open water that surrounded the City. **[This makes me wonder how far it is, and why it would be better to be there than within the walls. Potentially cool insight into her thinking, but I'm not quite able to tie it down.]
***
First of all, let me thank Siri for submitting - thanks, Siri! I liked a lot of things about this piece, as you can see. You're ambitious here, giving us a lot of social groups, affiliations, potential strife, insult, etc. all of which is good. What I did find, though, was that I was doing a lot of hopping about from one piece of new information to the next, wishing for more orientation, more description, more detail (I felt disoriented quite early, certainly by the time the Ferrican spoke in Kemetian). I don't think that it's a question of just adding more, however, because it would be easy for the storyline of a potential attack on the city to be lost in a flood of details. What I'd like to see is a stronger sense of alignment with Athneh. So that her reactions don't seem extreme and so that your explanations don't feel external to her, I'd like to see you get closer to her, and try to put things in terms of her awareness of insiders and outsiders. Okay, so she's sitting on a quay calling out her wares, herbs from the fish-kin. But is the quay her home territory? Is it familiar to her? And are the fish-kin her people? Just placing an adjective or two, giving us a detail about the nearness of the water being comforting to her, though the walls make her feel hemmed in, for example - that would do a whole lot to show her identity and ground her judgments of the things around her.
She would react to the Ferrican in accordance with how her people view Ferricans - I'd like to know whether a Ferrican is a type of City-dweller, such as a member of the military, or a traveler from a foreign land which might have an independent reputation in the eyes of fish-kin. The language Kemetian threw me off - why would he be speaking it? Because it's a lingua franca? Because he's been sent by Kemetians? What would Athneh guess about him? She'd certainly have a strong emotional reaction if she's hearing the language of the enemy, particularly if speaking Kemetian is unusual. The reference to Islanders comes out of the blue, since there are no Islanders here and I'm not sure how they are relevant to the larger conflict; I'm thinking the whole insult sequence might be left out of this piece and saved for sometime later. We aren't grounded enough in Athneh's worldview at this point for her sense of insult to strike us naturally; instead I'm feeling like I'm being informed of the value of the insult. It could be very effective, though, if used later when I have more knowledge of the complex relations in this world.
It can often be helpful to go through and categorize everything in a scene in terms of whether it is an insider object/concept or an outsider object/concept. Particularly in an interesting situation like this where there are lots of conflicting social groups. Athneh's judgments of "mine" and "yours," of "homelike" and "foreign" can then serve as valuable signposts for the reader. You can also explore a me/you/they relation, such as having fish-kin be "we," City-dwellers "you" and Kemetians "they" (I'm not sure where the Ferrican fits into this, but you might have a better sense of that).
Please don't feel any pressure to reveal the whole picture of social complexity so early in the story. The longer the list of players, the more valuable it is to start with as few as possible, and let the main character slowly introduce us. I've dealt with this a lot, because of having a society with seven caste levels. You should have seen my readers' heads spinning when I tried to introduce them all at once! I think you've got a lot of really cool stuff here, and tons of social information to impart, so I'd really encourage you to start by orienting us to a very basic insider/outsider sense when we first meet Athneh, (I'd probably begin with fish-kin vs. City and use her judgment of physical details to help ground the location as well) and then slowly complicate it each time another person or event enters her life.
I hope you find my comments helpful. Readers, you are welcome to comment constructively below.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Superb link about Subtext and Knowledge Imbalances in stories
This link was passed on to me today by Writer Beware. It's not about anything to "beware" of, but is a fantastic article about what subtext is in a story, and how to bring it into use for yourselves. The part I found most illuminating was how David Baboulene linked the idea of subtext with that of an imbalance of knowledge between character and reader (either the reader knows more than the character does, or less, or both!).
Everyone should read this one!
Everyone should read this one!
TTYU Retro: Doors and their Keepers
I'm obsessed with doors.
Okay, not really. But I do find I mention them a lot when I'm writing, sometimes so often it gets ridiculous and I have to start cutting. The thing is, doors are just so useful.
Doors and aliens: the shape and mechanism of a door will tell you a lot about the physiology of a species, even when they are absent. If a door gets narrower than a certain width, human beings will shift their shoulders sideways to go through it even though it may be wide enough to admit them without the shift. So what about aliens? How do they go about entering a space? Do they slither and need just a tiny hole, or are they enormous? Do they manipulate a handle to open the door? Does the door have hinges or does it slide? Does the door lock? These questions will illuminate local technology. Another question relevant here is how to know who is on the other side of the door. Is there a peephole to allow the apartment-dweller to see who is outside? Or will the individual on the inside use hearing or smell to determine who the visitor is?
Doors and power structures: who gets to sit behind a door? And who gets to sit, or stand, in front of it? These are things that can reveal a lot about the status structure of your society. If the people behind the door are knowledge keepers, then maybe a great deal of value is placed on certain types of knowledge, and this is then kept secret from others (I'm thinking of bureaucrats, but also religious knowledge and others can fall into this category).
Doors and manners: there are rules about how doors must be treated. In the US, an open door is seen as friendly. In Germany, it's seen as sloppy. The French see open doors and may worry about drafts in the house. Whether the door is kept open or closed does not always say the same thing about the person inside. Maybe it says "do not disturb," but maybe it says "I maintain appropriate aloofness but you may approach me." Are people expected to knock to gain admission? And how should they open the door? In my house, where I've often got kids or stuff of various kinds in hand, I open the door any way I can. In Japan, opening a door with anything but your hands is bad manners (don't use your feet or your posterior!). In Japanese restaurants, the servers will put their trays down and remain kneeling to open the sliding door with one hand placed close to the floor.
Doors and point of view: I think this is why I use doors so much. If you're doing close limited point of view, it really helps to differentiate between describing actions from the inside of the POV character, or from the outside for other characters.
For the POV character, a door can mean a lot of different things. It can mean imprisonment. It can mean fear or resentment, that someone in particular might come in. It can mean safety. It can be the last line of protection. A character can approach a door with hesitation, paranoia, eagerness, excitement or apprehension. Or irritation, as Arthur Dent did with the sighing doors of the Heart of Gold spaceship in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
For the non-POV characters, a door can help you show their mental states without actually having to describe the emotion. How does the character approach the door? Quickly? With impatient movement, or with reluctance? Does he or she approach it face-first or back-first? What body part does your character use to knock, or to open the door? How does he or she grasp the handle - with white knuckles, or gingerly, or firmly? What quality of sound or air movement does the opening of the door create? All of these things can broadcast the inner states of a non-POV character, and the writer can choose whether to complete the extrapolation of the associated mental state or not. This means that if you describe how the person handles the door, but without using any direct descriptions of the assumed mental state, the reader can draw two conclusions: first, the reader can extrapolate the mental state of the person who went through the door, and second, the reader can deduce that the point of view character didn't draw the same conclusions, i.e. that he or she may have been unaware of the other person's mental state. And that's one way to show things to your reader while hiding them from your POV character in tight internal/limited point of view.
You gotta love doors.
Okay, not really. But I do find I mention them a lot when I'm writing, sometimes so often it gets ridiculous and I have to start cutting. The thing is, doors are just so useful.
Doors and aliens: the shape and mechanism of a door will tell you a lot about the physiology of a species, even when they are absent. If a door gets narrower than a certain width, human beings will shift their shoulders sideways to go through it even though it may be wide enough to admit them without the shift. So what about aliens? How do they go about entering a space? Do they slither and need just a tiny hole, or are they enormous? Do they manipulate a handle to open the door? Does the door have hinges or does it slide? Does the door lock? These questions will illuminate local technology. Another question relevant here is how to know who is on the other side of the door. Is there a peephole to allow the apartment-dweller to see who is outside? Or will the individual on the inside use hearing or smell to determine who the visitor is?
Doors and power structures: who gets to sit behind a door? And who gets to sit, or stand, in front of it? These are things that can reveal a lot about the status structure of your society. If the people behind the door are knowledge keepers, then maybe a great deal of value is placed on certain types of knowledge, and this is then kept secret from others (I'm thinking of bureaucrats, but also religious knowledge and others can fall into this category).
Doors and manners: there are rules about how doors must be treated. In the US, an open door is seen as friendly. In Germany, it's seen as sloppy. The French see open doors and may worry about drafts in the house. Whether the door is kept open or closed does not always say the same thing about the person inside. Maybe it says "do not disturb," but maybe it says "I maintain appropriate aloofness but you may approach me." Are people expected to knock to gain admission? And how should they open the door? In my house, where I've often got kids or stuff of various kinds in hand, I open the door any way I can. In Japan, opening a door with anything but your hands is bad manners (don't use your feet or your posterior!). In Japanese restaurants, the servers will put their trays down and remain kneeling to open the sliding door with one hand placed close to the floor.
Doors and point of view: I think this is why I use doors so much. If you're doing close limited point of view, it really helps to differentiate between describing actions from the inside of the POV character, or from the outside for other characters.
For the POV character, a door can mean a lot of different things. It can mean imprisonment. It can mean fear or resentment, that someone in particular might come in. It can mean safety. It can be the last line of protection. A character can approach a door with hesitation, paranoia, eagerness, excitement or apprehension. Or irritation, as Arthur Dent did with the sighing doors of the Heart of Gold spaceship in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
For the non-POV characters, a door can help you show their mental states without actually having to describe the emotion. How does the character approach the door? Quickly? With impatient movement, or with reluctance? Does he or she approach it face-first or back-first? What body part does your character use to knock, or to open the door? How does he or she grasp the handle - with white knuckles, or gingerly, or firmly? What quality of sound or air movement does the opening of the door create? All of these things can broadcast the inner states of a non-POV character, and the writer can choose whether to complete the extrapolation of the associated mental state or not. This means that if you describe how the person handles the door, but without using any direct descriptions of the assumed mental state, the reader can draw two conclusions: first, the reader can extrapolate the mental state of the person who went through the door, and second, the reader can deduce that the point of view character didn't draw the same conclusions, i.e. that he or she may have been unaware of the other person's mental state. And that's one way to show things to your reader while hiding them from your POV character in tight internal/limited point of view.
You gotta love doors.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Revisions: your story isn't you
I've heard many authors talk about how the characters in their stories seem to do things of their own volition, or about how the story seems to be outside of them rather than something they have created. It's easy to get this sensation when you're in the midst of creating - somewhat harder, I think, to retain it when you go back and start revisions.
In some ways, that sense of the story existing on its own can make us balk at revising. It's outside of us now, it has its own internal form and structure; the characters are who they are, and do what they do. In other ways, it's the sense that the story represents us as authors - that in a way, it is us - that causes us to hesitate.
I think considering the story as existing outside of us is perfectly fine. It may resist revision in some ways, but as long as we can consider the characters, the form and the structure from the outside, revision is possible. It's when we feel that we are the story that the revisions process can really defeat us. Then critique and requests for edits can feel like insults, and restructuring like an assault.
It's not that what we create isn't great. It isn't even that it's not publishable. I've seen whole books and famous movies that made me think, "needed one more rewrite." But though those books have been published and those movies produced, I always think it's a shame that that final revision never happened.
I've tried to train myself to take a particular view of my own work. To me, the story isn't me, and it isn't even what I've written. The story exists somewhere else - a plane of ideas, or some kind of Platonic dimension - where it exists in an ideal state. What I'm trying to do by writing it is capture that perfect spirit, that resonance, and convey it to my readers. Thus, revisions are the means by which I bring the story closer to the ideal. Maybe this is why I enjoy it so much!
Critique shows me how my readers understand what I'm doing; it gives me a sense of the pictures they see, and the resonance and intensity they feel. They aren't seeing the ideal form of the story any more than I am, but we're all trying, looking at it from different angles, and in that process we jointly get insight into what the story could be. Then once I feel I've glimpsed the way to get closer to what I want, I set about making it happen. Sometimes when I realize what the story really requires, and I feel a resonance come into place, it gives me goose bumps.
I'm not saying everyone has to think this way. What I'm trying to do is explain why I find revisions exciting instead of daunting. If what I'm sharing here helps any writer out there to take on the process of revisions with more relish and less sense of personal injury, then I'll be happy.
In some ways, that sense of the story existing on its own can make us balk at revising. It's outside of us now, it has its own internal form and structure; the characters are who they are, and do what they do. In other ways, it's the sense that the story represents us as authors - that in a way, it is us - that causes us to hesitate.
I think considering the story as existing outside of us is perfectly fine. It may resist revision in some ways, but as long as we can consider the characters, the form and the structure from the outside, revision is possible. It's when we feel that we are the story that the revisions process can really defeat us. Then critique and requests for edits can feel like insults, and restructuring like an assault.
It's not that what we create isn't great. It isn't even that it's not publishable. I've seen whole books and famous movies that made me think, "needed one more rewrite." But though those books have been published and those movies produced, I always think it's a shame that that final revision never happened.
I've tried to train myself to take a particular view of my own work. To me, the story isn't me, and it isn't even what I've written. The story exists somewhere else - a plane of ideas, or some kind of Platonic dimension - where it exists in an ideal state. What I'm trying to do by writing it is capture that perfect spirit, that resonance, and convey it to my readers. Thus, revisions are the means by which I bring the story closer to the ideal. Maybe this is why I enjoy it so much!
Critique shows me how my readers understand what I'm doing; it gives me a sense of the pictures they see, and the resonance and intensity they feel. They aren't seeing the ideal form of the story any more than I am, but we're all trying, looking at it from different angles, and in that process we jointly get insight into what the story could be. Then once I feel I've glimpsed the way to get closer to what I want, I set about making it happen. Sometimes when I realize what the story really requires, and I feel a resonance come into place, it gives me goose bumps.
I'm not saying everyone has to think this way. What I'm trying to do is explain why I find revisions exciting instead of daunting. If what I'm sharing here helps any writer out there to take on the process of revisions with more relish and less sense of personal injury, then I'll be happy.
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