Tag Archives: Deus Ex Machina

Revisions, part 1: Shakespeare and the Art of Foreshadowing #writing

Good foreshadowing is crucial. If, like me, you work from an outline (a planner), you might plan to embed clues in the first quarter of the story, hints that are little warning signs of future events.Revisions: the moment you discover that writing "the end" was only the beginning.For those who wing it (pantsers), this happens on a subconscious level, but it does happen.

Whether we are planners or pantsers, clumsy foreshadowing or neglecting to foreshadow are things we do when laying down our story’s first draft.

They are clues we leave in our first drafts, hints that tell us what we need to expand on or cut. For new writers, recognizing and correcting those signals can be a challenge. Experience helps us understand what we are looking at when it comes to seeing our own work with an unbiased eye.

We gain experience by

  • Writing as often as we can, daily if possible.
  • Attending writing seminars.
  • Reading books on the craft.
  • Participating in local writing groups.
  • Looking back at our earlier work with a critical eye.

Foreshadowing can be an opportunity for an info dump. This is why we seek out writing groups or hire freelance editors. We want our work to be the best we can make it. And trust me, first drafts are rife with what doesn’t work as it is currently written.

Even editors have editors because when it comes to our own work, we see what we intended to write, not what is there.

Absolute perfection is flat and mechanical, devoid of life. The eye of an experienced editor is needed to ensure the human element, the voice of the author, is protected and developed in a manuscript.

The second draft is when we finetune our foreshadowing. When a possibility is briefly, almost offhandedly mentioned, but almost immediately overlooked or ignored by the protagonists, that is foreshadowing.

It is perfectly acceptable to use the occasional “I told you so” moment in fiction. These happen in real life, but fiction isn’t quite real. ALL fiction is a way of dealing with reality but dressed up in a bit of fantasy.

We subtly insert small hints, little offhand references to future events. If the narrative is well-written, readers will stick with it as they will want to see how it plays out.

Readers aren’t perfect. Some will miss the suggested possibility just as the unsuspecting characters do. Other readers will catch the clues and begin to worry.

The most crucial aspect of foreshadowing is the surprise when all the pieces fall into place. This is the moment when the reader says, “I should have seen that coming.”

Imply: definition. In Latin it means to enfold within. One meaning is displayed on the surface but a deeper meaning is folded within.We have many reasons to pursue good foreshadowing skills. In my opinion, the most important is that it helps avoid using the clumsy Deus Ex Machina (pronounced: Day-us ex Mah-kee-nah) (God from the Machine) as a way to miraculously resolve an issue.

A Deus Ex Machina occurs when, toward the end of the narrative, an author inserts a new event, character, ability, or otherwise resolves a seemingly insoluble problem in a sudden, unexpected way.

Foreshadowing also helps us avoid the opposite and equally awkward device, the Diabolus Ex Machina (Demon from the machine). This is the bad guy’s counterpart to the Deus Ex Machina.

It’s a problem that occurs when the author suddenly realizes the evil his character faces doesn’t warrant a novel. Yet, they don’t want to waste what they have already written. At that point, they introduce an unexplained new event, character, ability, or object designed to ensure things suddenly get much worse for the protagonists.

As a reader, I hate it when a character suddenly develops a new skill or knowledge without explanation. This is when the narrative becomes unbelievable and is known as a Chekhov’s Skill. Some authors explain it away after the fact, but this kind of fault makes it impossible for me to suspend my disbelief. To avoid this, we need to mention previous examples of the characters using or training that skill. Without briefly foreshadowing that ability, the reader will assume the character doesn’t have it.

Literature and the expectations of the reader are like everything else. They evolve and change over the centuries.

In genre fiction today, a prologue may or may not be a place for foreshadowing. This is because modern readers don’t have the patience to wade through large chunks of exposition dumped in the first pages of a novel.

William Shakespeare used both exposition and foreshadowing. Larger events may be foreshadowed through the smaller events that precede them.

Let’s look at a scene from The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, one I have talked about before. Modern readers know it as simply Romeo and Juliet, but Shakespeare originally called it what it is: a tragedy. This is the scene where Benvolio is trying to talk Romeo out of his infatuation for Rosaline.

“Take thou some new infection to thy eye,

And the rank poison of the old will die.” 

In other words, “Dude, the minute you see a new girl, you’ll forget this one.”

Benvolio knows his friend well. Just as he predicts, as soon as Romeo lays eyes on Juliet, he forgets his obsession with Rosaline, and a new obsession begins.

Shakespeare employs foreshadowing again in a later scene. When Benvolio brings the news that Mercutio is dead, Romeo says,

“This day’s black fate on more days doth depend; 

This but begins the woe, others must end.”

Romeo is predicting that Mercutio’s death is a disaster for everyone and feels as if he is racing toward an unknown future.

In that moment, we see that Romeo is deeply aware that he has reached a point of no return.

He must fight Tybalt to avenge Mercutio because his society requires it. Therefore, he must duel to the death despite knowing that killing Tybalt won’t resolve anything. Instead, the murder will only perpetuate the problem.

Romeo has seen the foreshadowing and knows he is no longer in control of his fate.

This is one of the many reasons why (four-hundred years later) we still read and love the works of William Shakespeare. This is why movies about him are still being made, such as 2025’s masterpiece, Hamnet.

It takes both restraint and skill to insert tiny hints of what is to come into your narrative, but foreshadowing gives the protagonists (and the writer) an indication of where to go next.

These clues tantalize a reader. The desire to see if what we think has been foreshadowed keeps us turning the page.

Part 2 of this little series on revisions will explore worldbuilding and how the clues we leave in the environment can be a form of foreshadowing. And later, we will talk about easy fixes for those of us whose schooldays didn’t include a dive into practical grammar.

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Logic and the Deus Ex Machina #amwriting

I write fantasy novels, but I also write contemporary fiction.  All fiction, literary as well as fantasy, requires world building and a certain amount of planning as any novel or short story must have a logical story arc. Without a fundamental logic to the events, the reader can’t suspend their disbelief.

NaNoWriMo is prime “pantsing it” time. For those who don’t know that term, “pantsing” is writer-speak for “flying by the seat of your pants.” I always begin by writing to an outline, but in the mad rush to the finish, my story goes in directions I never planned for.

I outline in advance because (when writing in any genre) if you are pantsing your way through a story that encompasses 75,000 to 100,000 words, it is easy to get involved in large info dumps and bunny trails to nowhere. A loose outline will tell you what must happen next to arrive at the end of the book with a logical story set in a solidly designed world.

However, I’ve never yet written a story that stuck strictly to the original outline.

Characters develop lives and personalities of their own, and stuff happens that wasn’t planned for. When I finish the first draft, it always makes sense in my head, and I usually feel confident it can pass the logic test.

So, what is the logic test? Once you have the first draft written, let it sit for a few weeks, then come back to it. If I was smart, during my writing process I made notes where the scenes began deviating from the outline.

Screen writers have it right, so the layout of my outline is divided into acts and beats, the same as a screenplay would be listed with a brief description.

Act One

  • Opening scene–characters in “normal” environment–/ Hook
  • Inciting Incident–characters thrown out of “normal” and into new circumstances.
  • End of the Beginning

Act Two takes up 50% of the novel—it is the second quarter and third quarter combined.

  • Pinch Point #1
  • Midpoint
  • Pinch Point #2
  • Crisis

Act Three

  • Climax
  • Final resolution

Each section has a brief description of what occurs there, such as:

Act Three, scene 1

  • Leave Hemsteck
  • First campsite, Alf /Ronan talk. Dex overhears.

If I have made notes of my changes to the story line, I have a guide showing me what those changes were. I know where to go back and check to make sure the events are foreshadowed logically, and not a clumsy Deus Ex Machina. (Pronounced: Day-us ex Mah-kee-nah.) (God from the Machine.)

This is a plot twist that is used to miraculously resolve an issue. (Miraculous is the key word.) A Deus Ex Machina occurs when, toward the end of the narrative, an author inserts a new event, character, ability, or otherwise resolves a seemingly insoluble problem in a sudden, unexpected way.

So, let’s consider an indie novel I tried to read a week ago and didn’t finish. I was in the mood for a trashy  adventure/romance, and for the first few chapters, I was able to overlook some technical annoyances because the characters were hilarious. After thinking about it, I doubt the author intended it to be such a hilarious mockery of 19th century upper class mores, as everything was written so earnestly, so faux Charlotte Bronte.

The setting for the final incident that threw me out of the book completely is a grand ball at a Buckingham Palace. The main character, whom we just spent a chapter dressing in an excessive amount of detail, becomes involved in a quarrel. She draws her sword, and the fight is on.

Where did that weapon come from? Swords aren’t easy to conceal. It wasn’t part of the highly detailed scene where her maid was dressing her one layer at a time. Why was she wearing a sword at a formal event? Do all the ladies go armed at these events? If so, it should have been made a part of the choosing-the-gown scene. Give her a fancy scabbard to keep that handy  rival-stabber in, something that looks all bejeweled and goes with the outfit.

In late Regency/early Victorian times, officers wore ceremonial swords to formal events. Women were never armed openly. Any weapons they had would have been knives, poison, or pistols and would have been concealed, not hanging from their waist in a long scabbard. A pistol in her bodice would have almost logical. So, if you intend for her to draw her sword, there must be a logical reason for these men and women to be armed.

When I look back at my story’s outline, starting from the ending and working forward, does the characters’ journey to the final page make sense? If my characters must show up to a grand ball fully armed, it must be logical, a part of their culture.

Good writers don’t rely on miracles to ensure things work out to the main character’s advantage. They use logic and insert small clues and hints into the narrative, so the reader doesn’t feel cheated. To that end, I suggest keeping an updated outline of what happens in each scene.


Credits and Attributions:

Wikimedia Commons contributors, “File:Rembrandt – Rembrandt and Saskia in the Scene of the Prodigal Son – Google Art Project.jpg,” Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Rembrandt_-_Rembrandt_and_Saskia_in_the_Scene_of_the_Prodigal_Son_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg&oldid=302686497 (accessed December 16, 2018).

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