Monthly Archives: November 2022

How a monopoly of information drives the arc of the scene #amwriting

NaNoWriMo is in full swing. Many people are discovering that writing is much more work than they realize. Some have fallen by the way already, and others will falter along for a few more days. Then they too will disappear, and their work will lie forgotten until the urge to write resurfaces, like the sneaky shark that creativity is.

However, a few people new to the craft are developing a pPlot-exists-to-reveal-characterassion for the dirty habit of writing every day. They are joining the ranks of the old pros, the people who “do NaNo” every year whether they expect to be published or not.

But all writers begin as readers. As we read, we see an arc to the overall novel consisting of:

  1. Exposition, where we introduce our characters and their situation.
  2. Rising action, where we introduce complications for the protagonist
  3. Climax, the high point of the action, the turning point of the narrative
  4. Falling action, the regrouping, and unfolding of events that will lead to the conclusion
  5. The resolution, in which the protagonist’s problems are resolved, providing the reader with closure.

Scenes are mini stories that support the overall arc. They come together to create the all-encompassing drama that is the novel. The way the narrative unfolds keeps our readers interested until the end of the book. Each scene has a job and must lead to the next. If we do it right, the novel will succeed.

The main difference in the arc of the scene vs. the overall arc of the novel is this: the end of the scene is the platform from which your next scene launches. This means each scene begins at a slightly higher point on the novel’s plot arc than the previous scene, driving the narrative.

876MilanoDuomoIn my mind, novels are like Gothic Cathedrals–arcs of stone supporting other arches until you have a structure that can withstand the centuries. Each scene is a tiny arc that supports and strengthens the construct that is our plot.

These small arcs of action, reaction, and calm push the plot and ensure it doesn’t stall. This tension increases the overall conflict that drives the story.

My writing style in the first stages may be different than yours. I lay down the skeleton of the tale, fleshing out what I can as I go. But there are large gaps in this iteration of the narrative.

So, once the first draft is finished, I flesh out the story with visuals and action. These are things I can’t focus on in the first draft, but I do insert notes to myself, such as:

  • Fend off attack here. Bandits wound Lenn. I don’t know how.

Or my notes might say something like:

  • Contrast tranquil scenery with turbulent emotions here.

plottingLIRF07122020For me, the first draft is always rough, more like a series of events and conversations than a novel. In the second draft, I stitch it all together and fill in the plot holes.

In the first draft, most scenes I write are conversations interspersed with actions. Conversations between our characters should have an arc that supports the cathedral of the novel. They begin, rise to a peak, and ebb.

They inform us of something we must know to understand the forthcoming action. Conversations propel the story forward to the next scene.

A good conversation is about a thing or idea and builds toward some other thing or idea. Dialogue must have a premise and move toward a conclusion of some sort. Otherwise, it’s is a waste of words.

A scene that is all action is confusing if it has no context, no frame. A properly placed conversation can give the reader perspective when there is no silent witness (an omniscient presence). This view is needed to understand the reason for events.

A certain amount of context can arrive through internal monologue. But we don’t want the reader to face a wall of italics. I have two problems with long mental conversations:

  1. Italics are daunting in large chunks.
  2. Internal dialogue is frequently a thinly veiled cover for an info dump.

plot is the frame upon which the themes of a story are supportedPlot points are driven by the characters who have critical knowledge. The fact that some characters are working with limited information creates tension.

This inequality of knowledge is called asymmetric information. We see this all the time in the corporate world.

  • One party in a business transaction has more or superior information compared to another.
  • This individual’s drive and pursuit of pure self-interest can prevent others from entering and competing in an industry or market.
  • This person has the critical knowledge the competitors don’t have.
  • That inequality of information effectively eliminates his competition.

In other words, he has a monopoly and rises to the top.

In literary terms, a monopoly of information creates a crisis. In the novel, a conversation scene should be driven by the fact that one person has knowledge the others need. An idle conversation will bore your reader to tears, so only discuss things that advance the plot.

The reader must get answers at the same time as the other characters, gradually over the length of a novel.

I struggle with this too. Dispersing small but necessary bits of info at just the right moment is tricky. Hopefully, by the end of my second draft, all these bumps will have been smoothed out.

Now that we are a week into NaNoWriMo, I have written 20,000 words into my outline, which is gradually becoming a novel. Already many things have changed from the original plan.

Whether it will be an engaging story for a reader (or not) is something I can’t predict, but I’m enjoying writing it.

The Arc of the Scene

And that is what writing should be about—writing the story you want to read.

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#FineArtFriday: Indian Summer by William Trost Richards 1875

Indian_Summer_MET_DT276257Title: Indian Summer by William Trost Richards

Genre: landscape art

Date: 1875

Medium: oil on canvas

Dimensions: 24 1/8 x 20 in. (61.3 x 50.8 cm)

Collection: Metropolitan Museum of Art

What I love about this painting:

Richards has captured a singular moment of tranquility for us all to enjoy in these troubled times. A light breeze barely ruffles the surface of our pond. At the bottom right, two girls play beside a large boulder at the waters’ edge.

Across the pond, in the center and nearly hidden in the shadows, a teamster and his oxen wade across the shallows.

Autumn’s haze lends a feeling of mystery to the scene, muting the reds, yellows, and oranges of leaves about to fall. This last burst of grandeur can’t hold back winter, though it tries. Soon the forest will sleep, soon snow and ice will decorate barren limbs and ice will stop the waters’ gentle motions.

But beneath the grasp of winter, new life will bide its time, and winter will fade into spring. The seasons will follow their course, but today is autumn’s day to shine, to go down in a blaze of golden glory.

Richards paints a day of peace and serenity, a small pocket of time where one can just sit back and admire the beauty of our world.

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About William Trost Richards:

William Trost Richards (November 14, 1833 – November 8, 1905) was an American landscape artist. He was associated with both the Hudson River School and the American Pre-Raphaelite movement. [1]

1856 he married Anna Matlack Richards (1834–1900), a 19th-century American children’s author, poet and translator best known for her fantasy novel, A New Alice in the Old Wonderland. The couple had eight children, only five of whom lived past infancy. Anna educated the children at home to a pre-college level in the arts and sciences. [2]

One of the couple’s sons, Theodore William Richards, would later win the 1914 Nobel Prize in Chemistry. Anna Richards Brewster, their sixth child, went on to become an important painter in her own right, having received an early arts education from her father as well. [2]

Richards rejected the romanticized and stylized approach of other Hudson River painters and instead insisted on meticulous factual renderings. His views of the White Mountains are almost photographic in their realism. In later years, Richards painted almost exclusively marine watercolors. [1]


Credits and Attributions:

Indian Summer by William Trost Richards, Wikimedia Commons contributors, “File:Indian Summer MET DT276257.jpg,” Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Indian_Summer_MET_DT276257.jpg&oldid=678817431 (accessed November 3, 2022). Public Domain.

[1] Wikipedia contributors, “William Trost Richards,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=William_Trost_Richards&oldid=1089835304 (accessed November 3, 2022).

[2] Wikipedia contributors, “Anna Matlack Richards,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Anna_Matlack_Richards&oldid=1055684363 (accessed November 3, 2022).

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The Story is in the Drama #amwriting

Drama and disaster can and will happen on a wide scale in our real lives. Tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanoes, droughts—the path of a natural disaster is erratic. Sometimes they miss you, and other times, your home is in their way.

modesitt quote the times we live LIRF11012022Lesser dramas might only touch us on a peripheral level, yet they can affect our sense of security and challenge our values.

On May 18th, 1980, my friends and I watched the eruption of Mt. St. Helens from atop a hill in the middle of nowhere. My children had visited their father for the weekend, so my friends and I planned a fishing trip to a beaver pond in the next county. It was a long drive on narrow, dirt logging roads, but the possibility of trout for supper was just an excuse for a day spent in the deep forest.

We loaded our gear into my boyfriend’s Land Rover and set off at about 5:00 am, all five of us laughing and having a great time. The radio never worked, but the cassette deck played Led Zeppelin, Robin Trower, Genesis, and Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow as the soundtrack to our trek through the gorgeous country.

At about 09:00, we came up over the top of a treeless hill. The view was breathtaking, as if all of Lewis County lay before us in springtime glory.

Above it all towered a sight I will never forget, turning the blue sky black.

MSH80_eruption_mount_st_helens_05-18-80-dramatic-edit

Eruption of Mt. St. Helens May 18, 1980 Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Conversations suddenly silenced, and we stopped, turning the engine off. We got out and stared, first at the raging column of dust, rocks, and lightning that dwarfed the mountain and then at each other. Helicopters and airplanes from news agencies and the USGS circled like so many carrion birds. What so many people had thought was just hysteria was true—the mountain had blown.

We never did make it to the beaver pond. The only fish we caught that day were the tuna sandwiches we had packed. Conversations were sober as we picnicked on that hilltop and watched the incredible show.

We had no way of hearing the news, but we knew it was terrible, that some people had died and others had lost everything. We had no idea just how bad it was, that one of our favorite places to fish, the Mount St. Helens Lodge at Spirit Lake, had disappeared along with its cantankerous owner. Harry R. Truman had become famous in the weeks before the eruption for refusing to evacuate.

Toward midafternoon, we returned to Olympia, all of us grateful to have homes to go to. When I turned on the television and found that more than fifty people had lost their lives, I felt devastated for them.

The true story of that day in my life is in disaster contrasted against calm and tranquility.

The story is in the hectic start to the morning, of five friends off on a day trip to go fishing. It is in the peace of the deep woods along those old dirt roads.

640px-St_Helens_before_1980_eruption_horizon_fixedThe camera zooms out and now we see the idyllic serenity of a clear sunny morning on Spirit Lake and Harry doing his morning chores.

This allows us to see what will be lost.

Then disaster strikes. The side of the mountain gives way, and the eruption is on.

Contrast that catastrophe against five people serenely picnicking on a hill, observing the apocalypse as it happens. The drama is in old Harry R. Truman’s stubborn end, and how it didn’t occur to us who watched from a distant hill that we would never rent a boat from him or fish in that lake again.

The bad juxtaposed against the good is the plot, but the experiences of those who witnessed it is the story. Contrast provides drama and texture, turning a wall of “bland” into something worth reading.

Stories of apocalyptic catastrophes resonate because disaster drives humanity to bigger and better things, and those who survive and rise above it become heroes. Readers love the drama of it all.

Disaster isn’t always apocalyptic, though. Dramas regularly happen on what seems an unimportant level to people who have resources. Not everyone has money, and not everyone can surmount the odds. The story is in the battle.

Think about those small daily tragedies people face, deeply personal catastrophes, which only they are experiencing. Love and loss, safety and danger, loyalty and betrayal are the eternal themes of tragedy and resolution. These are the seeds of a good story.

30 days 50000 wordsWe writers must make our words count. We must show our characters in their comfort zone in the moments leading up to the disaster. Not too much of a lead in, but just enough to show what will soon be lost.

Then, we bring on the disaster and attempt to write it logically, so it makes sense.

Contrast is a crucial aspect of worldbuilding and storytelling. In the end, we want readers to think about the story and those characters long after the last paragraph has been read. Drama and resolution are the keys to a great story.

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