Diary of a Mad Editor

Archive for August 10th, 2008

The Devil is in the Details II: an afterthought about research and list-making

In regards to that neo-noir novella I mentioned the other day — here’s why is always important to do you homework and why list-making can sometimes help:

The other day I was going over the first chapter and realized I made a big mistakes. See, the opening of the story is set in Laughlin, NV. The protagonist works in one those Laughlin hotels and casinos as a dealer. The hook is that the guy runs afoul of his shady boss and has to skip town. The problem is that the “hotel” in the story is really a just a whorehouse with onsite gambling. The problem? I must’ve been so worked up over the idea when writing about the place that I forgot an important detail: Laughlin is in Clark County. So now I’ve got to make a choice — move the whorehouse to another location or turn the brothel into a regular hotel/casino and leave it in Laughlin.

And that’s why it’s important to do your homework. And if I’d made a list of items that would remind me to do my homework — say a list of Nevada tourist sites or a list of brothels, I wouldn’t have to do so much rewriting and would have save myself more time in the long run.

Thanks For Reminding Me, I’ll Just Put it on My List of Things I’m Not Going to Do Today

My sister and I are both Tauruses. Aside from being straight-up bullheads, we also have a number of other things in common. Both of us are involved in the Arts — me, a writer and she, a lapsed artist and singer in a rock band. But one of the biggest things we share in common is that we are both compulsive list-makers.

Now, my sister’s lists are along the lines of to-do lists or grocery lists. Holiday gift lists, lists of caterers for my niece’s sweet 16 party, list of best diet pills when she’s on a diet, playlist for her band, lists of bills to pay — that kind of thing.

Although, I do my share of to-do lists and grocery lists too, I’m probably a little bit more compulsive in my own way. Last year, when I thought I was going to die, I made out a bunch of lists: a to-do list for my funeral, lists of people I wanted to say goodbye to, and a bucket list. Well, when it turned out I was going to beat the odds, that bucket list turned into a life list and the to-do list of my funeral became my recovering from cancer list.

I sometimes make lists of things I think I might want to write about on this blog (yes, although it may not seem like it, some of these topics are planned out in advance). I also make lists of potential titles for poems and stories. And, as I’ve already mentioned my penchant for research, I also make lists of topics, words and phrases that interest me, lists of books, authors, quotations, theories, etc.

I know I’m not alone in this. I’m sure many of you out there do the same thing. Maybe it’s because you are also a writer or also a Taurus — yes, although we Bulls are hard-working most of the time, we have a tendancy to be slothful and frivolous.

Those who don’t make a habit of list-making would probably say that lists are a waste of time, and they’re probably right. Sometimes they are a waste of time. Sometimes I probably should spend more time working on a project than making lists about a project. On the other hand, this blog post is number one on today’s to-do list and I just crossed it off. If I do nothing else today, I’ve at least done that. Sometimes a good list can keep you honest.

There is a Method to the Madness and a Mode to the Method

Literary critics tend to prefer the parts of a story more than the story as a whole. Casual readers of short fiction just want a good story without really being conscious of how the parts add up to either a good, well-executed tale or an poorly-constructed one. And while I, myself, would just as soon pluck my eyeballs out with a plastic fork than read a book of literary criticism, I’d concede the point that understanding the parts of a story is rather important when evaluating the whole.

Too much of one ingredient and the story is dull. Too little detail and the story is unconvincing. And so the writer is very much like a circus performer walking a tightrope high above the crowd, balancing a pole.

Academics call these parts “narrative modes”. Writers know them by other names: exposition, summary, dialogue, description, action, thought, etc. Academics and writers alike cannot agree as to how many of these modes there actually are and there are many techniques which form a subset of these various modes. For my purpose, I’m just going to deal with the ones I’ve already mentioned:

Exposition is a form of narrative in which background information about the characters, events, or setting is conveyed in a work of fiction.

Caty Sorenson was always a good girl. She was captain of the cheerleading squad and editor of the yearbook. Caty never disappointed her parents. Never missed a family dinner or a curfew. She was a popular, happy girl and everyone loved her. The night before she died, Caty was at home, working on her report for history class.

Summary is a shortened, simplified version of a particular subject or event.

Caty’s report was all about the Battle of Trenton, during the Revolutionary War. She reported that it was the pivotal battle for the colonials and how George Washington’s leadership saved the day.

Dialogue in fiction is a written verbal exchange between two or more characters.

“Oh. Hi there, Cat,” Vera Longwood said. “Would you like to buy a blueberry muffin?”

“I don’t know,” Caty answered. “They look awful good, but I probably shouldn’t.”

“Come on, Cat . . . it’s for the new gymnasium,” Vera said, smiling.

“Oh, alright.”

Thoughts — expressions of whatever is going on inside a character’s head.

I’m fat. I’m fat, I’m fat, I’m fat . . . and I just know I’m gonna get a bad grade on my term paper. I shouldn’ta ate that muffin.

Action is the series of events that make up the plot of the story.

Caty stuck two of her fingers down her throat until they touched her epiglottis. She stroked the nerve there until she began to gag violently. Caty spewed purple mucus, bits of blueberry and, finally, blood into the toilet.

Description is a form of narrative that helps define a character or object.

Caty’s purse fell on the ground beside her body. The purse was an pumpkin-orange Prada knock-off she’d bought in the city the previous summer. Most of the contents of the purse spilled-out onto the grass as Caty tumbled. A tube of lipstick and a compact kit lay just inches from her nose. A Panic at the Disco CD with a cracked case had landed a few feet away. A hair brush with heavy clumps of her red hair still meshed in its teeth, rested by her thigh, partially obscured by a tangle of grass. The few items that remained inside the purse were a tampon, a bottle of aspiren, laxatives and some diet pills.

Those technical subsets are probably of more interest to more experienced writers and maybe I’ll discuss some of them another day, but for novice writers it’s important to master the fundamentals before tackling the advanced stuff. Because it’s a fascinating alchemy of words. Having a story to tell and knowing what techniques to use and how much of each is the name of the game. Got to keep the story rolling and keep your readers from falling asleep. And throw those poor literary critics a bone to chew on as well. God forbid they should have to get real jobs.