Advanced Fiction Writing Blog

It’s been a few days since I had time to blog. As I mentioned last week, I’ve been on a very tight deadline for the last few weeks, and the deadline was last Thursday. I made it, but I’ve been in recovery over the weekend.

For the last couple of weeks, we’ve been critiquing first paragraphs submitted by my loyal blog readers. I’ll continue with that for maybe a week longer, and then we’ll move on to a new topic. Tomorrow, by the way, I’ll be sending out my e-zine.

Today, let’s look at Hope’s first paragraph:

Ma was sleeping when Hannah slipped out to the barn and pulled a halter over Poppy’s head. She led the cow out behind the cabin and tied her to a large oak tree. After a long Vermont winter she needed fresh grass to nurse her new calf. Hannah opened the barn door again and the calf darted out in search of her mother. Once she found her, she nursed and then lay down.

Randy sez: The first thing I see here is a lot of females and female pronouns. There are in fact 4 females (Ma, Hannah, Poppy, and the calf), 4 instances of “she” (referring to Hannah, Poppy, and the calf), and 4 instances of “her” (referring to Poppy and the calf). It seems to me that this creates a certain amount of confusion in the reader’s mind. Not a lot, of course, but more than I like to see in a first paragraph.

The second thing I see is that this paragraph is mostly narrative summary. The events of this paragraph take quite a bit of time–at least several minutes, and probably a lot more, depending on how long it take the calf to guzzle from its mama.

I’m trying to see the reason for this paragraph. Mainly, it sets the stage, showing us a bit of the story world. We learn that our main character is a kid who lives in Vermont. We learn that the winter is finally over. And . . . that’s about it. We don’t see any conflict yet, nor any hints of conflict. We don’t really get to know the character better. We don’t see any glimmerings of a developing theme (it would be way too early to do that anyway).

I think that a first paragraph should be doing more work. I would like to see one of two things:
1) Give us a hint of some conflict
2) Show us a bit of the main character

Note that you don’t want to overdo it here. “A hint of conflict” does not necessarily have to be the main conflict on which the story will turn. It can be something that leads toward the main story conflict.

Likewise, “a bit of the main character” does not have to be a detailed biography. (In other words, a big undigestible wad of backstory.) It just needs to tell us a wee little bit about how Hannah is different from every other kid her age.

That’s what I’d like to see. Hope, can you sharpen up the hook on this paragraph?

We have been critiquing first paragraphs of novels that my loyal blog readers have submitted over the last couple of weeks. Are you getting tired of this, or shall we continue a bit longer? If you want to switch, what topic is burning in you right now? What shall we talk about next?

I am coming up on a major deadline and have had to skip blogging the last couple of days, but hope to get time to blog tonight.

In today’s comments, Daan asked 3 questions, and since two of them are easy to answer, I’ll do so. Then I’ll critique another first paragraph that was submitted some time ago by Yeggy. But first, the questions. Daan asked:

1) What is a literary novel viz-a-viz novels such as Pillars of the Earth, The Firm, Transgression, etc.?

2) What is chic(k) lit(erature)?

3) What is a cy(?) yc(?) novel?

Randy sez:

1) A literary novel is a novel in which the usual “Four Pillars of Fiction” (StoryWorld, Character, Plot, and Theme) are supplemented by a Fifth Pillar–Style. A novel in which Style plays a leading role is a literary novel. Of the books Daan mentioned:

* THE PILLARS OF THE EARTH, by Ken Follett, is not a literary novel. I’d classify it as a blockbuster historical suspense novel. Follett is one of my favorite authors, and PILLARS is my favorite of all his books–it’s in my all-time Top Five list.

* THE FIRM, by John Grisham, is not a literary novel either. It’s a legal thriller, and a fine one. Grisham has been routinely mocked for writing fast-paced, workmanlike prose. The man had the #1 selling novel in America for roughly 8 years in a row, so I suppose a little mockery is all in the day’s work. I’ve enjoyed some of Grisham’s work, and my favorite is probably still his first, A TIME TO KILL, which was a little rough but it showed a lot of passion. Gotta love that.

* TRANSGRESSION, by that pesky Randy Ingermanson, is not a literary novel either. I have never aspired to write literary fiction. I always considered it a work of historical suspense (it’s a time travel novel in which a physicist tries to kill the apostle Paul). Oddly, it won a major award in the “futuristic” category. I never thought of it as remotely futuristic, but I’m not going to give back the award, either. Daan, by the way, has recently finished translating TRANSGRESSION into Afrikaans, and I hope he finds a good market for it.

2) “Chick lit” is fiction about young women looking for Mr. Right. Chick lit is generally considered fluffy and “not serious fiction”. Fer crying out loud, who cares if it’s “not serious?” Not everything in life has to be serious. “Chick lit” has long ago branched out into “mom lit” (young married women with brats on their hands–the natural fate of the lucky young gals who found Mr. Right), and “hen lit” (older women who like to have just as much fun as the chicks, but who found Mr. Right long ago and have got used to the fact that he is more Mr. Left than they had intended.)

To my knowledge, the parallel categories for guys don’t really exist, though there have been some novels written along those lines. But the fact is that American society doesn’t lay the same expectations on men as on women, and a guy just doesn’t believe that life will suddenly be swell if only he finds Miss Right. That’s my take on it, anyway.

3) I have never heard of cy or yc novels. A YA novel is for “young adults”, but I’m not sure if that’s what Daan is asking about.

Now, let’s turn to Yeggy’s one-paragraph submission:

“Mum!” Rissa yelled as Lauren ran up the staircase. “It’s just a photo album!”
“Not just a photo album, it’s your baby photos.”
Rissa turned to her dad and gave him the look. “You’re the one that got us into this in the first place. You and your stupid feud with Richard.”
Colin gritted his teeth. The knuckles of his hands whitened as he tipped his head back and shouted up the stairs. “Lauren, it’s nearly sunset!”
“No need to get agro. I’ll be down in a sec. You said they never attacked before dark.”
“The latest report had them down river fifteen minutes ago. With this cloud cover it’ll be dark in ten.” He slapped a hand on the banister. “We have to leave now!”

Randy sez: This shows a lot of promise, but methinks it’s a little crowded. I count somewhere between 4 and 6 characters, 3 plots, and 4 exclamation marks. That is 3, 2, and 3 too many. Let’s look at each in turn:

The characters: We have Mum, Rissa, Lauren (is Lauren the same as Mum?), Dad, Richard, and Colin (is he the same as Dad?) We also have an unnamed group called “they” who are likely to attack. I recommend using the same moniker for each character early on. If Mum is Lauren, then call her one or the other consistently. Ditto for Dad/Colin. We’ve just been introduced to these people and it’s hard to keep track of who’s who right now.

The plots: We’ve got The Mystery of the Baby Photo Album–what’s that all about? Then we’ve got Dad’s Feud With Richard–could be interesting, especially if machine guns or exploding cats are going to be involved. Then there is The Trip Past Them After Sunset–again, this could be scary, if Them turns out to be zombies or werewolves or politicians.

The exclamation points: The Rule of One applies here. The Rule of One says that “1 + 1 = 1/2″. I stole this from several brilliant people, all of whom think they invented it. (You know who you are, and you deserve the credit, you genius, you.) So the Rule of One says you can never do better than by limiting yourself to just one. The Rule of One applies to exclamation points, cheesecake slices, and wives. You violate the Rule of One at your Xtreme peril.

Yeggy, can you trim down this passage so there are 3 characters, 1 plot, and 1 exclamation point? I know you can. Do it!!!

Last week, I challenged my loyal blog readers to critique the first paragraph in Venessa’s novel. The paragraph is shown below:

“Riverside. 25 Kilometres”
The sign flashed by. No warm homecoming feelings surfaced. Only coldness filled Rik Chandler. Ten years failed to ease the pain this town had inflicted on his life.
He’d sworn he would never set foot here again. Seems fate wasn’t going to let him off the hook. Gossip surrounding one death a decade ago sent him packing; now another death drew him back.

Randy sez: My first comment is that there is only one rule: “Whatever works is whatever works.” For some readers, this paragraph will “work” and for others it won’t. As a writer, you have two goals:
1) Make it work for those readers who will want to read your book.
2) Make it work as well as possible.

I will do no good to write a slam-bang exploding-helicopter type beginning for a literary novel, for example. And it will do no good to write a stunningly evocative and beautiful beginning for a made-for-Bruce-Willis action-adventure kind of novel. Your opening paragraph must fit your novel.

This leads me to Parker’s question:

Do you see a distinction between genre fiction and literary fiction as it relates to how openings should be handled?

Randy sez: Yes. No matter what kind of fiction you write, the beginning should fit it. In Nessie’s case, I don’t think we’re looking at a literary novel. I may be wrong, but that’s what I see. Nessie, go ahead and correct me if I’m mistaken.

A number of my loyal blog readers posted excellent comments and suggestions on Nessie’s paragraph. In my view, there is too much “telling” in her submission and not enough “showing”. I’m not entirely sure how to fix this, since I would need to understand the story better to show how to show it. But Daan’s suggestion was a good one:

“Riverside welcomes you.” Rik Chandler regarded the sign with a wry smile.

His heart missed a few beats. Ten years failed to ease the pain this town had inflicted on me.

He parked his car in front of a drug store and looked at the newspaper headings:

“DAUGHTER OF STEEL TYCOON DIES IN SKI ACCIDENT”

Randy sez: This has the advantage that it shows more than tells, although we can’t be sure if this actually fits Nessie’s story. But I’ll bet it could show more. I would like to bring our character on first. This helps orient us and gives us a focal point for emotive experiences. So consider this a mere suggestion:

Rik Chandler walked past the peeling billboard without looking at it. Ten years ago, it had said, “Riverside welcoms you,” and he was willing to bet nobody in this rathole of a town had noticed the typo yet.

There was a new Starbucks on the corner where Ollivander’s Drugs used to be. Rik’s head was buzzing after driving all night and he desperately needed an infusion.

The chipped old newstand on the sidewalk hadn’t changed, except for the headline:

“DAUGHTER OF STEEL TYCOON DIES IN SKI ACCIDENT”

This brings us to Ginny’s question:

One other question: You say you write a lot of deep inner monologue. How do you keep your pace moving (action) with a lot of deep inner monologue?

Randy sez: Interior monologue is more appropriate to Sequels rather than Scenes, but you can have it in Scenes if you keep it short and blend it well with the action and dialogue. In the snippet I wrote above, you can see traces of interior monologue in paragraphs 1, 2, and 3. Note that phrases like “rathole of a town” and “infusion” are slightly unusual, and they indicate that we are seeing Rik’s thought processes, even if not part of real interior monologue. They let Rik’s personality shine through just a bit.

I have been on a tight deadline for the last week, and that will continue for another couple of weeks, so my blogs during this time will be shorter than usual.