Commandments for Writers Series: #10, One-Zero, TEN-- LAAAAA

I almost forgot in the craziness that is my life that I had not presented Commandment Number Ten from Sol Stein's Ten Commandments for Writers, from his book, Stein on Writing. Whew! That would have been embarrassing.

10 Above all, thou shalt not vent thy emotions onto the reader, for thy duty is to evoke the reader's emotions, and in that lies the art of the writer.

 This is my favorite commandment of them all. I relate to this, I agree with it, I GET IT.
I don't think Sol is saying that you can't use your emotions to express feelings on a page. Many of us channel frustration, sorrow, joy into scenes we've thought about, that we know are coming, or scenes that have been inspired by the emotions when they hit. That can be amazing after editing and revisions hone down the emotional avalanche to bones that will move the story forward, deepen the character, create tension.
BUT, have you ever read something and found yourself not submersed in the story, but considering what happened to the author to make them write what is on the page, and why are they pushing this on you? It can be such a fine line, between venting emotions onto a reader, and evoking the reader's emotions.
Let's look at the definition of the word, evoke.

e·voke  (-vk)

tr.v. e·voked, e·vok·ing, e·vokes

1. To summon or call forth: actions that evoked our mistrust.

2. To call to mind or recollection by naming, citing, or suggesting: songs that evoke old memories.

3. To create anew, especially by means of the imagination: a novel that evokes the Depression in accurate detail.

The act of evoking is an outside act. The focus is on those outside ourselves, in this case, our reader. When we write emotion, we want to tap into our reader's mind, his memories, his experiences with similar emotions, and draw on those to evoke compassion, support, even comradery, with the characters we are writing. Can we use our own experiences? Of course. But we can't just tell our reader what to feel, can't just push it on him and say, "I feel this, so now you feel it." Nope.
We have to suggest. For example, frustration. Remember how it feels? How, when you're trying to fix something you're not sure how to fix, and you're already running late...

His fingers were too thick, too clumsy to grasp the wrench in that tiny space under the cupboard between the wall and the old copper pipes. Twenty minutes he'd been wedged under there, cursing himself for the half-dozen donuts he'd eaten in that week. Maple bars, chocolate cream-filled... glazed raised ... displayed in the office, every day. Donuts had always been his downfall, but he wasn't playing football anymore. Neither was he a plumber.
"Aaugh." He clenched his teeth against the curse word in his head as the wrench slipped against the bolt and clanked noisily to the bottom of the cupboard.
"You all right?" his wife asked as she hurried to lift steaming jars of processed peaches to a towel on the counter. "I'm so sorry. If it hadn't happened in the middle of canning--"
"Just get me that other wrench, the funky one with the bendable head." He stuck his bleeding knuckle in his mouth. "I'm just too big to reach these bolts." His fingers shook, always did after too much exertion. It's a good thing he hadn't pursued the surgeon thing. Of course, then he could afford to pay someone to be wedged under the sink, fixing the broken faucet.
"When are you supposed to leave?" 
"About twenty minutes ago."
His wife drew in her breath. "Do I need to call somebody?" She handed him the funky wrench and squeezed his arm, an attempt to soothe. "Do you need a band-aid?"
He huffed out a laugh but scowled. "No, I'm fine. I'm not leaving you for three days with a broken sink. They'll just wait on me. They can't go anywhere, I'm driving."
"All the way to Cheyenne?"
Distracted by the realization that the funky wrench was too bulky to fit in the cramped space, he didn't answer, but tossed the heavy thing out the cupboard opening. "Why don't we have any tools in this house?"
He ran a hand through his thinning hair as his wife paused in her work on the peaches.
"We do," she answered, "but they're all my tools, and I'm not a plumber. I'm sorry."
The truth stung and he grabbed her old wrench, jammed it up around the stuck bolt, and applied pressure enough that his fingers shook again. Holding his breath, he twisted, squeezing, cursing his teaching degree and swearing in his next life he would be "handy". The bolt gave with a jerk and his breath whooshed out of him.
"I got it."
"You got it?"
"Yup."

This is based on true events experienced recently by my husband and I. The frustration was there, but I didn't just tell you my husband was frustrated and I was frustrated and you should be frustrated, too. I got inside my husband's head, drew on those things that a reader might understand or connect with on some level, and then invited the reader to say, "Oh, man, I have been there!" Even if "there" was the inability to pitch a single strike at the game, or being stranded on the side of the road with the car hood up, or struggling to administer an IV after a long day. The self-doubt, the shoulda-woulda-coulda, the fatigue, all a part of feeling frustrated.

Does that make sense? Invite, draw, relate. Don't push or force. 

Unless you are trying to loosen a stuck bolt so your wife can finish her peaches.

Thoughts?

Commandments for Writers Series: #9

We have nearly completed our study of Sol Stein's Ten Commandments for Writers from his book, Stein on Writing. For those of you who have followed along, I hope it's been a help in becoming a more perceptive writer, or reader. I have learned a lot from his book... maybe nothing astounding or revolutionary, but certainly, Stein's views on what good writing is and what it accomplishes will push me to be better, to reach farther. His explanations are clear. His examples back up his theories. And he loves character. Which is why I really loved this book. Now, on to the next commandment.

9 Thou shalt not forget that dialogue is as a foreign tongue, a semblance of speech and not a record of it, a language in which directness diminishes and obliqueness sings.

I love dialogue. I love the possibilities it brings to the reader to be in the "now" of the story, learning by what characters are saying instead of what the narrator is describing. It brings the story to "real time" and gives the characters life. We learn so much from what a person says, the way they choose their words, the forms of speech they have grown up with. We learn what age they are, their level of education, the level of respect they have for others, for the things in their lives. We even learn what they are hiding if their words conflict with the inner thoughts we are privy to as readers.
Dialogue moves the story quickly, the reader able to move down the page at a clip. But what do we include in written dialogue? What do we leave out?
When I'm writing a first draft, I've noticed the sections of dialogue I hammer out are fairly all-inclusive. Particularly if it's a phone conversation. The greeting, the small talk, the ummm's, then the meat of the conversation, the purpose of the call, then the ummm's again, then the farewell. But it's a first draft and I'm in the zone and it's what I am seeing and hearing in my head, so it all gets thrown down.
When I edit, I choose only the essentials needed to take the conversation where it needed to go. The reader will assume the conversation started with niceties, and ended the same way. Stein says dialogue in a story is not as the precise recordings of a court reporter. Select what moves the story along. Make it resonate. Make it count.

*NOTE: Because THE ORCHARD is now under contract, I can no longer post excerpts from it as examples without written consent. But you can read the whole thing as soon as it comes out! Thank you for understanding!

Commandments for Writers Series: #8

Moving along with Sol Stein's Ten Commandments for Writers, from Stein on Writing...

8 Thou shalt have no rest on the sabbath, for thy characters shall live in thy mind and memory now and forever.

It's true, figuratively and literally. Giving life to characters is akin to creating family. That sounds insane. I don't think I'm insane. I do know that Alisen, Elizabeth, Amanda, Chloe, Jill, and Kirianah are like sisters to me. Okay, maybe I'm insane. The asylum's in my head. Shhh, don't tell anyone.

I know of writers who choose not to write on the Sabbath day. But I bet they think about it.

I have been jolted with inspiration for a plot line in the middle of Sunday School class. My jaw has dropped as I sing the words of an unfamiliar hymn, appropriately depicting my character's feelings. A comment, a quote, a scripture catches fire in my soul, burning to be written down as soon as I get home. A fix to a scene, a turn of dialogue, an expression of emotion. The rest comes after the words are down.

But yeah, I'm still thinking about them.

Commandments for Writers Series: #6

*a continuing series based on Ten Commandments for Writers, found in Stein On Writing, by Sol Stein

6 Thou shalt infect thy reader with anxiety, stress, and tension, for those conditions that he deplores in life he relishes in fiction.

Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mocking Jay, Suzanne Collins.
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey.
Princess of the Midnight Ball, Jessica Day George.
The Last of the Mohicans, James Fenimore Cooper.
Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte.
It, Stephen King.

When I interview authors for this blog (Thursday Authorial, which will resume after my kids are back in lovely school) I always end with the same question:

If you could be a character in any book, who would you be?

Often, the person I'm interviewing hesitates, a few commenting that to put themselves in a book would mean exposing themselves to a whole lot of conflict. And yet, the favorite is chosen.

When I finished writing The Orchard, in the original ending, I left one of the characters, Elizabeth, standing on a dock, surrounded by family and strangers, utterly alone. Her character prodded and haunted my thoughts for days after and I realized I needed to give her a happy ending. I couldn't just leave her there on the dock.
So I scrawled out an outline for The Inn, punched out the story, and sighed. Then, I gave it to my writing group.

"Umm, where's the conflict? Good bones, but make me care."

Huh. Had I wanted Elizabeth's success so badly I handed it to her on a silver platter?
Practically. Which would also explain why the story was not only boring, but very short. However, short was a good thing.
Because I spent the next few weeks tearing her down, giving her choices, throwing doubt and fear and bears, yes, bears, in her path, adding another character to block her way and creating conflict and stress and tension. She had to fight for the ending I gave her, grasp for it, wrestle it from me.

It was better. I'm excited. Here's a teaser to The Inn:

The way back down was a little tricky, the trail wet in some places, clay hard in others. She was still taking in the view as she stepped, and stumbled, catching herself on Ryan’s back. He half turned and caught the rest of her with his arms.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, as she heard quiet laughter from the others. The laughter wasn’t at her fall, she knew, but at the way she and Ryan couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other in a very accidental way. She’d never blushed so much in her life, and it was starting to irritate her.

He helped her steady herself. “It’s okay.” He placed his hands on her arms and looked up. “All right?” His eyes were steel marbles in this light.

She sucked in her lips and nodded. “Perfect.” She rolled her eyes as he turned away, bringing his hand up through his hair. They started walking again and from behind she saw him take a deep breath and blow it out. Ugh. Ugh.

Back in the inn's suburban, she listened to the hum of the engine and the quiet murmurs from the backseat. Everyone was both invigorated and tired. Ryan slowed the car and they stopped to watch a moose amble through the edge of the woods. It was some distance away, but the cameras clicked. A fox jumped and ran across the field, now empty of elk. Elizabeth looked behind her. Nancy had fallen asleep.

As the car sped up, Elizabeth’s arms pulled around her waist, and she remembered she still wore Ryan’s jacket. She leaned her head against the seat and watched the scenery fly past her window. Her eyes closed and she suppressed a smile, hearing him hum an unfamiliar tune. It faded.

She was falling, fast, and could hear voices laughing, mocking. Then Ryan caught her and she looked up, but it wasn’t Ryan and she cringed away, pulling back, only to lose her balance and start falling again. This time there was a ruckus below her and again, she felt arms grab her, pulling, then wrenching.

She woke up with a start.

“Elizabeth.” 

The voice soothed. She heard the sound of seatbelts unlatching. They were back at the inn. She furrowed her brow, stretching her shoulders. 

A bright-eyed Nancy met Elizabeth as she slid out the door. She linked her elbow through Elizabeth’s arm. “Have a good snooze?”

“I’m not sure.” It was the truth.

What are your feelings about reading or writing what you deplore in real life?

Commandments for Writers Series: #5

5 Thou shalt not mutter, whisper, blurt, bellow, or scream, for it is the words and not the characterization of the words that must carry their own decibels.

Continuing with Sol Stein's Ten Commanments for Writers, I cringe, and whisper, "I have trouble with this one." Not so much the other characterizations, but the whispering-- that's going to haunt me until I get my ms back from my editor with the question marked in large, red scrolling letters,   

        "What's with all the whispering?" 

(I really don't know what my editor's handwriting looks like yet, or even if it comes back to me hand or electronically marked... learning, learning, learning...)

I've read a dozen articles or tips about sticking to "he said" or "she said", or using no dialog tags at all (which I prefer if I can get away with it). So why is it so difficult to trust our readers to know that the character is whispering? Or SHOUTING, or blurting?

Any ideas?

Commandments for Writers Series: #3

I'm continuing with Sol Stein's Ten Commandments for Writers, from Stein On Writing.

3 Thy characters shall steal, kill, dishonor their parents, bear false witness, and covet their neighbor's house, wife, manservant, maidservant, ox, and ass, for readers crave such actions and yawn when thy characters are meek, innocent, forgiving, and peaceable.

I had to think about this one. I have learned there are a few things your main character should never be (for example, an adulterer), and this commandment challenges that. But what about the other characters?

Conflict, anyone?

In the previous post I mentioned Edmond Dantes, the young man betrayed by his friends through his meekness, his innocence. I have just begun reading The Count of Monte Cristo and have been warned it is not much like the movie I love, so for the purpose of this post, I'll refer to what I know from the movie because it came to mind when I read the above commandment.

Because Dantes' friend, Mondego, stoops to nearly all the mentioned vices: he covets all Dantes has, including his fiance, his living, his future,and so frames his friend, bearing false witness, sentencing him to life imprisonment and stealing all Dantes looked forward to, including his love, Mercedes, lying about his death. The act itself kills Dantes' father.
It was easy. Because Dantes was meek, innocent, forgiving, and peaceable. And we want to scream.

We begin to urge him on, to look for ways to hope, jumping on any chance for Dantes to win his life back, to, even, exact revenge. To change. And he does. He is angry, vengeful, scheming, and distrustful. A liar. We want him to move forward with everything he has, with all the momentum he has gained... but do we want him to become Mondego?

No. I don't. I want him to exact as justice demands. But I want him to trust, to feel, to hope again. Without innocence. I want him to be the hero.

Okay, now I have to go watch the movie.

Thanks for making me think, Sol.

Commandments for Writers Series: #2

Sol Stein's On Writing ends with Ten Commandments for Writers, and I'll be throwing them out to you for discussion over the next few weeks.

2 Thou shalt imbue thy heroes with faults and thy villains with charm, for it is the faults of the hero that bring forth his life, just as the charm of the villain is the honey with which he lures the innocent.

Katniss is wishy-washy, Elizabeth Bennett is hypocritical, Edmond Dantes is gullible, then obsessed with revenge, and Harry Potter is clueless.

Saruman is velvet-voiced, Will Elliot is smooth, Luke Castellan is heroic, and Oberon seductive.

As a writer, I find it more difficult to avoid perfection in my heroes, but when I let them fumble, show their anxieties, their hiccups, they are a joy to write and their triumphs are... triumphant. And the villains, well... the villains are just fun.

One of the more interesting heroes I've recently read is John Wayne Cleaver of Dan Well's I Am Not a Serial Killer. Wells has imbued his hero with cringe-inducing faults galore and yet we want him to succeed. We shudder at his realism. We cover our eyes and peek through our fingers, dreading and hoping and glancing at our darkened windows.

Are your heroes the embodiment of perfection, or are they made real through their shortcomings? Are your villains bad because they are villains, or are they villains because they are deceptively attractive?

Commandments for Writers Series: #1

I'm reading Sol Stein's Stein on Writing and frankly, I love it. I read the beginning, then I've sort of skipped around, skimming here and there, and now I'll go back and read through it with a highlighter. But at the end of the book, Sol (let's call him Sol) gives us the Ten Commandments for Writers. They are genius. I thought it would be fun to go through Sol's Commandments as a series here on this blog.

1 Thou shalt not sprinkle characters into a preconceived plot lest thou produce hackwork. In the beginning was the character, then the word, and from the character's words is brought forth action.

Have your stories stemmed from characters? A character you just couldn't let stand there, but had to give him something to do? Not just something to do, but something to fight, to wrestle, to battle, to conquer? Because this character was someone worth the hours of plotting, hair-pulling, hand-wrenching, no sleep, pacing as your readers read, facing scrutiny and rejection for? Am I being overly dramatic? AM I?

Are your characters worth it? Click here for a Character Development list. Make them worth it.