Advanced Fiction Writing Blog

Today we’ll continue our investigation into “Motivation-Reaction Units” — also known as MRUs. As I’ve been doing for the past week, we’ll critique a real passage posted by one of my loyal blog readers.

Ann wrote:

Thank you so much for this study of MRUs Randy. I’ve gone over the opening of my novel and revised it with MRUs in mind. I believe there are three MRUs in here, but may be completely deluded. If you have to laugh, please stuff a pair of socks in your mouth first, to save my feelings! Here goes:

……………………………………………..

“Sweet to tongue and sound to eye …”.

She was motionless outside Trocadéro metro station, looking up the steps towards the entrance to the musée de l’Homme. How had she landed here? She should have been miles away, in the Quartier Latin, heading towards the rue St Andre des Arts, to the gallery.

… wood, horn, bone, feather, thread of gut … Again, the peculiar sensation of being not herself, but her double - Laura looking into Laura. This time ‘she’ was seeing, reflected back from the blackness of her pupil, a halo. On the halo’s inner rim was a web from which tiny random drops of light were suspended. Laura recognised and remembered.

It wasn’t spider silk and the drops of light were beads. It was a made-up web - made to trap dreams, bad dreams. In the dark of the night nightmares would lose their way, bewildered by and thus ensnared in the web’s intricate cyclic pattern, condemned to execution by the touch of the first ray of daybreak.

It was a dreamcatcher. Dreamcatchers kept dreamers safe. Only good dreams could pass through the hole at the centre of the web. Four bouquets of feathers - symbols for spirit and thought - dangled from the bottom of the wooden hoop from which this particular snare was fashioned and the whole swayed hypnotically in an air-conditioned breeze. A pendulum, to remind that time was running out? It had long hung above the door to Le Café de l’Homme, the restaurant inside the museum.

The sun flooded her eyes. A flock of birds emerged from a dark stale mouth, flew into her face - a lunchtime crowd in flight from the station exit. There was a fluttering dispersal as they circumnavigated the unexpected island of her body, regrouped on the other side to move onwards as a single host once more.

“Sweet to tongue and sound to eye …”

The words were dusted across the fine blonde hairs on the back of her neck. She didn’t react, didn’t turn to seek the owner of the voice. She knew there’d be no-one there, or at least, no-one visible to her naked eye.

Randy sez: Wow, this was so good I didn’t really notice where Motivations and Reactions began and ended on the first reading. I’m going to guess, because we’re coming into this passage without much context, that the Motivations are the following:

1) “Sweet to tongue and sound to eye …”.

2) … wood, horn, bone, feather, thread of gut …

3) “Sweet to tongue and sound to eye …”

The Reactions are everything else, if I’ve understood this passage correctly. If I’ve parsed this right, then the only suggestion I have to make is to put a paragraph break after Motivation #2. That would make clearer the distinction between Motivation and Reaction. And the reason for wanting to make that distinction is so that the reader knows when to identify with the character and when not to.

This is a fine piece of writing. What can I say, other than, “Well done, Ann!”

Last week, we analyzed some sample passages written by my loyal blog readers using “Motivation-Reaction Units.” For those of you just joining us, you can learn all about those pesky MRUs in my article on “Writing The Perfect Scene.”

Robert left a question in the comments over the weekend that I think needs answering:

I’ve been following this MRU thing and I’m loving it, and it is also changing my writing, but I have a question:

For the sake of suspense, is is ever right to show the reaction before the motivation?

For instance, in a movie, I can picture the camera showing the face of someone in terror before we know what has made them feel that emotion. Especially on ending a scene.

Randy sez: Compare these two passages, in which Harry is the POV character in both, and he is with his friend Ron:

Passage 1:

Harry’s heart thumped madly. Stark raving terror filled his soul. He leaped out of his bed and raced toward the door, desperate to get out of the room, but it was locked. He shook the handle frantically.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Ron shouted.

Harry wished he were home with the wretched Dursleys, rather than here. This was the scariest thing he’d ever seen.

“Harry, speak up!” Ron grabbed him by the throat. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

Harry gasped for breath. Sheets of sweat rolled down his face.

“Harry, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong this minute, I’m gonna tell J.K. you’re putting your Reaction ahead of your Motivation!” Ron said angrily.

“It was … er … a dream about Lord Voldemort,” Harry said belatedly. “He was making gin out of Ginny.”

Randy sez: In the above monstrously bad passage, the author-reader contract is being massively violated. The reader believes she has a right to know what the POV character is thinking. But here, Harry is holding out on the reader. It takes a threat to appeal to J.K. to get him to fulfill his contract with the reader. The reader HATES this kind of thing.

Passage 2:

Ron leaped out of his bed and raced toward the door. He shook the handle frantically. “Locked!” he shouted.

“Ron, what’s wrong?” Harry shouted. He’d never seen Ron this frightened.

Ron looked around wildly, his eyes doing that funny thing he perfected in the second movie, where they get as big as Dobby’s, which IS saying something.

“Ron, speak up!” Harry grabbed him by the throat. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

Ron gasped for breath. Sheets of sweat rolled down his face.

“Ron, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong this minute, I’m gonna tell Hermione you’re a dweeb!” Harry said angrily.

“It was … er … a dream about spiders,” Ron said belatedly. “He was making a web out of Ginny’s hair.”

Randy sez: In the above monstrously bad passage, Harry is the POV character and therefore can’t read Ron’s mind. Therefore, the reader can’t either. The reader feels Harry’s urgency to learn what’s gotten into Ron, but the reader does not feel cheated. Why? Because the author-reader contract stipulates that the reader knows ONLY what’s going in the mind of the POV character, not anyone else.

Remember that in a movie, there is no POV character. There is no director-viewer contract that the viewer will know what’s in the head of any character. In general, the only way to tell the viewer this is using a voiceover, which is generally considered bad form.

In a movie, there are no MRUs. This is a fundamental difference between books and movies. In a movie, there are only what we call “Motivations”–they are shown objectively and externally. There are no “Reactions–nothing that is subjective and internal. In a movie, the viewer can only guess at the interior thoughts and emotions of the characters by what they do and say.

This is the enormous advantage you as a novelist have over a screenwriter–you can put your reader INSIDE the POV character. The screenwriter has some enormous advantages over the novelist–he can use video and audio. But he can’t put you inside a character.

This is why novels will never die–because we can do what the movies can’t. And we do it with MRUs.

Tomorrow, we’ll critique the next passage submitted by my loyal blog readers.

Judging by today’s comments by my loyal blog readers, it looks like this series we’re doing on Motivation-Reaction Units is proving valuable to y’all. Today, we’ll work through a passage posted by Tami.

However, first I’d like to answer a question that Lynda asked:

Randy, Can we use “as” when two actions are mutually exclusive? Example: He placidly read the paper as the children dismantled the house.

Randy sez: Yes, you can if it serves your purpose. In the example you’ve given, what is being shown are two continuing actions that take a substantial amount of time. Which means the sentence is a fine example of “telling.” If you want to be “telling,” then of course you don’t want to use MRUs, because MRUs are a discipline for “showing.” If, on the other hand, you want to be “showing,” then that pesky “as” is the least of your worries because both clauses are narrative summary.

Again, there is no right or wrong on “showing” versus “telling.” There is a time for each, and only you can decide which you should use at any given time. If you want to be “showing,” then beware those innocuous words like “while” or “as”.

Now to Tami’s passage, which I will analyze for its MRU content. Again, I’ll do this piece by piece:

Hing Sung Ti ducked inside the stone building. Heart racing, his shaking hand fumbled for the bolt, slammed it into the lock. He fell against the door, chest heaving, as his lungs gasp for air. Maybe they hadn’t seen where he ran. An involuntary shiver seized his muscles. It was foolish to have come to town. He knew the danger, but desire overcame good sense.

Randy sez: My first reaction on seeing this was that it felt a bit overwritten, with too much emotive reaction going on. As I got further along, I realized that, no, it’s at about the right emotional temperature. Our POV character is in mortal danger. All that chest heaving makes sense, in context. This is a Reaction.

It’s a bit complicated because we see some Rational actions and then some Feelings. Is that wrong? Randy sez, no, it’s correct. What is happening is that our hero is taking an extended sequence of Rational actions. Along the way, his heart is pounding, his chest is heaving, his lungs are gasping, because . . . that’s what you do under Xtreme stress over an extended period of time.

He heard the faint jingle if spurs as boot heels clacked along the porch planks.

“Over here!” The raspy voice came from just outside the window. “I seen him run in here just as I come round the corner.”

Something hard struck the door.

“Come out ya yella heathen, or we’ll hafta come in an drag ya out by that there piggy tail of yers.” Drunken laughter and obscenities followed.

Randy sez: This is an extended Motivation, composed of a sequence of actions by his pursuers. Ordinarily, I would counsel against starting a Motivation with “He heard…”. I don’t see any obvious way to fix this, so I’ll let it pass.

I think it might help to break up this rather long Motivation by inserting some emotive Reaction on the part of our hero as he hears all these things. It might even make sense to insert some of that interior monologue that was in the earlier Motivation. So here’s a suggestion to shuffle the Motivations and Reactions a little more tightly together:

He heard the faint jingle of spurs as boot heels clacked along the porch planks.

“Over here!” The raspy voice came from just outside the window. “I seen him run in here just as I come round the corner.”

An involuntary shiver seized his muscles. It was foolish to have come to town. He knew the danger, but desire overcame good sense.

Something hard struck the door.

“Come out ya yella heathen, or we’ll hafta come in an drag ya out by that there piggy tail of yers.” Drunken laughter and obscenities followed.

Randy sez: Does that read a little better? OK, let’s continue with Tami’s original:

Repeated blows shook the wooden frame. Hing Sung Ti spun away from the door as instinct told him to run, but where? There was nowhere to hide. Panic nailed his feet to the floor.

Randy sez: I would break this into two paragraphs at the transition point between the Motivation and the Reaction. Also, I’d do something about that “as,” which mixes two actions that take different lengths of time. (Instinct is almost instant, but spinning can take a good half-second.) Here’s how I’d tweak this up:

Repeated blows shook the wooden frame.

Hing Sung Ti spun away from the door. He had to hide, but . . . where? There was nowhere to hide. Panic nailed his feet to the floor.

“We’ll teach you thieving Chinamen to take our gold.” More voices had joined the first.

An explosion of blows pummeled against the door. Over and over, the battering continued until the entire wall shook from the assault.

“Yeah, ya’all are gonna pay. Frank here’s gotta rope so’s we can string ya up. Leave ya thar swingin’ in the wind so’s yer friends cain see.”

“Hit it again, Clancy. Harder.”

Randy sez: Again, this is quite a long and extended Motivation. What’s HST thinking and feeling during all this? I think it might make sense to insert some sort of response in here. I leave it as an exercise for the reader to decide what Reaction would be best.

Hing Sung Ti had done nothing to these men, yet they would kill him.

Randy sez: This is a Reaction, this time some interior monologue. I wonder if it could be tightened up a little? Could we put it in his words a bit more, so it feels like his thoughts?

“Nin hao.”

Randy sez: This is a Motivation, but it’s just a little confusing since it could conceivably be something HST says. Most readers will figure out pretty quickly that it’s not him speaking, but why make them work? It might be good to tell us the direction this comes from, so we know it’s not him speaking.

He spun toward the sound. A young girl stood in the shadow, a pistol clutched in her fist.

“I…I am not a robber… I only wished to hide.” Did she understand? Her dialect was not from his province. “Please.” He feared that she would shoot or cry out. Desperate, he spoke in English, “I will not harm –”

Randy sez: This is a Reaction (he spun), followed by a Motivation (the girl with the gun), followed by a Reaction (HST speaking.) I would recommend breaking them into three paragraphs. It makes the action zip when you have a bit more white-space, and it also makes the breaks between Motivations and Reactions crystal clear.

Overall, I’d say this is a strong piece of writing. I’m dying to read more. What brought him to town? How’s he going to escape the thugs outside? VERY nice job, Tami!

We’ve been discussing those pesky Motivation-Reaction Units (MRUs) lately and on Monday I opened up the blog for submissions of short passages from your works in progress. Tuesday was my day to write my e-zine, so today I’m picking up where we left off on Monday.

Camille was the first to post an entry. I’ll insert comments after each Motivation and each Reaction:

Maggie just stood there in the cottage doorway chewing her lip, empty-handed this time except for the old scarred shovel handle she used as a walking stick.

Randy sez: This is a Motivation, since the POV character in this scene is Iain. Camille has shown us Maggie very well. We can see her standing there, not doing much (except chewing her lip). But that’s enough.

Iain frowned. “What do you mean she’s gone? Who’s gone?”

Randy sez: This is a Reaction. Iain is the POV character. A Reaction can have three parts, a Feeling, a Reflexive action, and a Rational action, but it doesn’t have to have them all. In this case, Iain’s Reaction has only the Rational action, in two parts. First he frowns. Then he speaks. A Reaction like this is just fine for dialogue.

She stomped her foot. “Och! Are ye deaf now, laddie? The lass. The one that writes ye letters.”

Randy sez: This is a new Motivation. We can see that stomping foot, can’t we? We can hear the irritation in her voice. (Is Maggie jealous of the lass?–we wonder. If she is, we suspect Iain doesn’t realize it, but we don’t know, so we read on.)

She knows about the letters . . . ?

Wait—Emily’s gone?

The burst of adrenaline that shot through his veins sent his voice booming. “What do you mean ‘gone’? Since when?” He pushed past Maggie and rushed down the walk, trying to ignore the uneasy tingle creeping up his spine.

Randy sez: The first two paragraphs are italicised because they are direct thoughts inside Iain’s head. This sequence had me a little confused when I read it the first time through. When I sat down to analyze it, I realized why. We have three paragraphs here, all three of which are part of Iain’s Reaction. But they are out of sequence. A burst of adrenaline is a BURST. It’s a Feeling, and Feelings happen quicker than any Rational thought.

So I would recommend showing the reader that burst of adrenaline first. Then show the Rational thought. Then show Iain speaking. It’ll feel more natural to the reader. Something like this:

A burst of adrenaline shot through Iain’s veins. Maggie knew about the letters. And . . . Emily was gone. “What do you mean, ‘gone?’” His voice boomed out louder than he’d intended. “Since when?” He pushed past Maggie and rushed down the walk, trying to ignore the uneasy tingle creeping up his spine.

“Grace woke up wanting to see her, but the lass wasnae there,” Maggie said from behind him. “We looked everywhere. We waited and waited, but she’s still not come round.”

Randy sez: This is a third Motivation, and it does its job nicely.

Rain smacked his face as he sprinted to the middle of the drive where he could get a better glimpse of the house. The old truck was there, next to the house in the same spot where Emily had parked it after church. He turned to Maggie, who had followed him out and stood without flinching at the steady rain matting down her stiff, white hair, her hands clutched together into a tight, knobby clump.

Randy sez: This is a third Reaction. I am wary of the word “as” because it often is used to put an Effect before a Cause. In the real world, Causes come first, then effects. Bombs explode, then people feel the blast.

If you think about what’s happening here, you’ll see that the Effect is coming before the Cause here. Iain is sprinting–that’s the Cause. Rain is smacking his face–that’s the Effect. You’ll also notice if you look hard that there is a Reaction, a Motivation, and a Reaction in this paragraph. Breaking them into separate paragraphs will pick up the pace a little, by adding white space to the page. I’d suggest something like this:

Iain sprinted toward the middle of the drive, ignoring the rain smacking his face.

The old truck was still there, next to the house in the same spot where Emily had parked it after church.

He turned to Maggie, who had followed him out and stood without flinching at the steady rain matting down her stiff, white hair, her hands clutched together into a tight, knobby clump.

Camille’s original piece was already pretty darn good. I’ve not messed with it much–just rearranged things a little to get things in a slightly better order. Why? To give the reader the best reading experience possible–so that at every point, the reader is there, inside the skin of the POV character, seeing what he sees, hearing what he hears, and most importantly, feeling what he feels.

Your goal as a novelist is to give your reader a Powerful Emotional Experience. That’s all. Nothing more. But never, ever, ever anything less.

We’ve been talking about those pesky Motivation-Reaction Units (MRUs) lately. If you’re just joining us, you can read my summary article Writing The Perfect Scene, which will bring you up to speed very quickly.

Today I’ll analyze a short passage of dialogue that was submitted by Loyal Blog Reader Diane:

“Don’t take it to heart, girl.” The old midwife followed Gwyn out into the warm night air. “You did nothing wrong to cause the babe to die. He was already dead ere you arrived, it was just a matter of the getting him out.”

“I know that in my head, Mistress Bethan.” Gwyn swallowed a sob, “but it will take some convincing to make my heart understand.”

The old midwife laid a grizzled hand on her shoulder. “It often happens so, child. You must harden your heart to it or you can ne’er do this job.”

Tears welled in Gwyn’s eyes, but she hastily wiped them away with the back of her hand. “I don’t know if I can.”

They walked in silence on a road made visible by a half moon overhead, its silvery light illuminating the village’s empty sheep folds. It was eerily still with all the sheep up on the high meadows where the grass was lusher and the air cooler. Behind them, the first heavy strokes of a hammer broke the stillness of the night. Deryn’s husband would work off his grief on the coffin for his wee son.

Gwyn’s eyes teared again despite her attempts to keep them dry.

Randy sez: Dialogue is a classic case of MRUs. One or more characters speaks. Then your POV character speaks. Repeat. Normally, every time you change speaker, you do a new paragraph, so you automatically obey Randy’s Rule Of Putting A Paragraph Break Between Every MRU. (In most books on the subject, this is usually abbreviated as RROPAPBBEM.)

Let’s look at each paragraph in turn and see how it works:

“Don’t take it to heart, girl.” The old midwife followed Gwyn out into the warm night air. “You did nothing wrong to cause the babe to die. He was already dead ere you arrived, it was just a matter of the getting him out.”

Randy sez: Well done on this one, which is a Motivation, since Gwyn is the POV character. The dialogue is nicely broken into two parts, with an action tag between them, showing us the speaker (the old midwife) without telling us.

“I know that in my head, Mistress Bethan.” Gwyn swallowed a sob, “but it will take some convincing to make my heart understand.”

Randy sez: This Reaction is almost perfect, but the punctuation police are going to quibble with you here. You have an action tag, so the period after the first snippet of dialogue is correct. However, the second piece of dialogue is its own sentence, so you should capitalize that “But.”

The old midwife laid a grizzled hand on her shoulder. “It often happens so, child. You must harden your heart to it or you can ne’er do this job.”

Randy sez: This is a new Motivation, and it’s done just right. This why I like dialogue–it’s very natural to write it perfectly in MRUs.

Tears welled in Gwyn’s eyes, but she hastily wiped them away with the back of her hand. “I don’t know if I can.”

Randy sez: Excellent Reaction! We have the feeling first, and it is SHOWN, not TOLD. Diane does not tell us that Gwyn feels heartbroken. She shows the tears welling up. This is a physical emotive reaction, and it speaks volumes.

They walked in silence on a road made visible by a half moon overhead, its silvery light illuminating the village’s empty sheep folds. It was eerily still with all the sheep up on the high meadows where the grass was lusher and the air cooler. Behind them, the first heavy strokes of a hammer broke the stillness of the night. Deryn’s husband would work off his grief on the coffin for his wee son.

Randy sez: This is a new Motivation, in which we get a bit of description. Notice that Diane does not tell us “Gwyn saw” the moon, or “Gwyn heard” the hammer. She just shows them to us. This is perfectly done, from a structural point of view.

Let me elaborate on that a bit. The purpose of “structure” is not to make the reader say, “Wow, great structure!” The purpose of structure is to be so natural that it is completely invisible, so that the reader is experiencing the STORY perfectly. In exactly the same way, when you get truly great service at a restaurant, you don’t walk out saying, “Wow, that waiter was really something, wasn’t he?” When you get great service, you don’t notice the waiter at all, because he is anticipating everything you need and providing it invisibly. When you walk out, you say, “Wow, that was a great meal!”

Gwyn’s eyes teared again despite her attempts to keep them dry.

Randy sez: This is a perfectly acceptable Reaction–again it’s a physical emotive reaction that shows the reader Gwyn’s grief. My one quibble is that it is very similar to the earlier one, so it might be better to give us a different physical reaction. There are any number of these, and I highly, highly, HIGHLY recommend Margie Lawson’s course Empowering Character Emotions where you will learn more than you ever imagined about physical emotive reactions. You can visit Margie’s site at www.MargieLawson.com.

OK, I think it’s time to get some more hands-on practice. If you’ve got a sample of some MRUs that you’d like me to critique, go ahead and post it here as a comment. Let’s put a limit on these, OK? No more than 3 Motivations and 3 Reactions per submission. That is more than enough.

As always, I can’t possibly critique every single example that gets posted here, but I’ll work through them starting with the first and continuing on until we all collapse of exhaustion.

Last week we began studying anew the subject of “Motivation-Reaction Units”. While MRUs are not the solution to all the world’s problems, they are in fact the main solution to the problem of those annoying editors who tell you to “Show, Don’t Tell” without showing you how to do it. If you write strictly following the MRU design pattern, then it is practically impossible to “tell.” You will be automatically “showing.”

As noted, “showing” is not always your best option. However, when you want to “show,” then just write the darn MRUs and you won’t have to worry about it.

It was interesting to see Robert’s example of trying to write MRUs within the point of view of a blind character. My advice to him was to not make a special deal out of the fact that a blind character’s “motivations” will be primarily heard (some will be felt, smelled, or tasted, of course).

One of my loyal blog readers is blind, and I was hoping she might comment on Robert’s passage. I’m glad to say she did, and I thought it would be worth quoting here in full, since not all my loyal blog readers read the comments of this blog.

Barbara wrote:

This response is to Robert. I’m totally blind. I use terms like “I see what you mean” and “You don’t look so good today”, (even though I get my input from my hearing). But, I went blind later in life (I was about 30). So, if your hero went blind later in life, then he will continue to use the same idioms he used earlier in life. If he was born blind, then this is more of a problem. It’s still prevalent in society to “not talk” about sighted subjects to blind children (as if they don’t know they’re blind). And those blind from birth have different ways of “analyzing” events than those who went blind later in life.

Randy sez: The point I want to highlight here is that in writing about any character, get inside that character’s head and experience the world the way they do. A blind character will experience the world primarily through hearing, but because that is their normal way of acquiring information, they probably won’t be constantly thinking “I’m hearing this rather than seeing it”. They will simply experience it. The exception would be if there is no auditory information, and if the blind character can hear other characters reacting to something they can see.

As an analogy, suppose that you have all five of your senses and you travel to a new planet where the inhabitants can see infrared light (which is invisible to us humans). You would continue to experience things perfectly normally in that world and it would rarely occur to you that you “can’t see” infrared light. You would in fact feel as if you are experiencing all there is to experience–EXCEPT when the folks on the planet are all “seeing” something in the infrared spectrum that you can’t see. Only then would you notice or care that you are “infrared blind”.

Karen posted an example from her current novel and asked for an analysis of the MRUs in it. Sean gave an analysis that was as good as any I could have given, so take a look at the comments posted on Friday and you’ll see what he had to say.

Also, author Rick Acker posted a comment thanking us for our analysis of the passage from his novel DEAD MAN’S RULE.

Tomorrow, I’ll analyze another passage for its MRU content.

Yesterday I posted an analysis of several paragraphs in the book DEAD MAN’S RULE, by lawyer Rick Acker. A number of my loyal blog readers posted comments or questions, and I think it’s time to answer some of those:

Robert wrote:

My main character is mostly blind. He can see a little, but not much. The best input he gets is auditory. I have a lot of people describe what’s happening to him, but he still goes a lot by what he hears.

The problem is that this means his “Motivations” will also be mostly auditory. But I can’t seem to get away from saying “[he] heard” or “the sound of”.

For instance, here’s one motivation written different ways (he and other people are in a wagon, which is being chased):

1) He heard running feet beside the wagon.
2) Running feet were heard beside the wagon.
3) The sounds of running was heard beside the wagon.
4) People were now running beside the wagon.

Randy sez: I think the best solution is to write as if the character were not blind.

I would avoid #1 because it injects the POV character into the Motivation, and I can’t see any reason to do so.

#2 contains a passive verb construction “were heard” which should be avoided or plagues will be called down on the head of the author, or even worse, your book will not be read, or even worse, you may become the object of self-referential humor which will be read on my blog.

Ditto for #3.

#4 works fine. This is most likely the way the POV character actually experiences it. He hears them and deduces that people are running based on the sounds that impinge on his ears, much as a sighted character will see them and deduce that they are actually there, based on the light that impinges on his eyes.

Parker suggested as a solution:

Seems the auditory input must trigger an emotional or visceral experience for your character. You might play on that. Another variation for your ideas file:

“Fear pulsed hard in his veins (or head, or ears) at the pounding of feet beside the wagon.

Randy sez: It’s an excellent idea to put in emotive Reactions to the Motivation, but they must come AFTER the Motivation, not before. So you would need to show the sound of the pounding feet and THEN show us that fear pulsing through those veins. Remember that the reader has a very linear experience, because she must read the words in order. If you write the effect before the cause, then it feels “unrealistic” to the reader, who will likely not realize what’s wrong. It is not enough to use a connective such as “as” or “while” or similar to make the cause and the effect seem simultaneous. In writing, it’s a rare place where it works to say that things happen simultaneously, because they can’t be read simultaneously. So always put the explosion first and then the shock wave.

Mary asked:

In your example above when I read Alexie’s hand shot into his pocket and got the gun, I thought it meant his own pocket, not the other guy’s. Would adding a couple words to make it clear slow down the action too much?

Randy sez: This is a good point. Here is the original:

“Hurry!” a voice urged in Russian from the front seat of the car. A tall, dark-haired man jumped out of the right rear door, still holding a Makarov pistol. He shoved the weapon into his jacket and quickly searched Alexei’s coat pockets. As he knelt to frisk through Alexei’s pants pockets, Alexei’s hand suddenly grabbed his arm and held it in an iron grip. Alexei’s other hand shot into his jacket and pulled out the Makarov.

If I were writing this, I’d probably simplify this and put a paragraph break at the point where the Motivation transitions to a Reaction. This would eliminate those pesky pronoun problems:

“Hurry!” a voice urged in Russian from the front seat of the car. A tall, dark-haired man jumped out of the right rear door, still holding a Makarov pistol. He shoved the weapon into his jacket, knelt down on the frozen sidewalk, searched Alexei’s coat pockets, and then reached inside his right pants pocket.

Alexei’s right hand grabbed the assassin’s arm in an iron grip. His left shot into the man’s jacket and yanked out the Makarov.

This tightens things up a bit, and eliminates the confusion, I think.

Parker asked:

I see the MRU’s in fast paced fiction, but what about in what you termed recently “pesky literary” fiction?

It seems to me that there you might have several pages of building the motivation, and perhaps that again in showing the reaction. And this raises another question in my addled brain.

Is it reasonable to have multiple minor MRU’s within a larger one?

Randy sez: Remember that MRUs are the magic secret to “showing” rather than “telling.” A lot of literary fiction consists in “telling.” This is not a requirement of literary fiction, but literary novelists are better than normal writers and can “tell” some things a lot more grippingly than most of us can “show”. If you are a literary novelist, then “show” or “tell” as the spirit moves you. If you choose to “tell,” then of course you can’t use MRUs. If you choose to “show,” then you can.

As for having MRUs inside MRUs, I don’t see any reason to do this. An MRU is the smallest unit of conflict in a story. If you can break it down smaller, then it wasn’t an MRU to begin with.

We’ll continue next time with another analysis of the MRUs in a story.

Yesterday I launched a new topic–Motivation-Reaction Units, which I learned from Dwight Swain. For those of you new to “MRUs”, you can get a summary of them in my article Writing the Perfect Scene.

A number of my loyal blog readers commented today on MRUs, and I’d love to respond to those, but my instinct tells me to just get on with an example. We can talk theory later. So I stood up just now, turned around, and grabbed a book off my shelf. This one is a legal thriller by my friend Rick Acker, who’s a lawyer in the Bay Area. The title is DEAD MAN’S RULE, and I really enjoyed this book a couple of months ago.

The POV character in the opening scene is Alexei, a Russian criminal in Chicago who’s waiting for his CIA contacts to show up on a deserted bridge late at night. When the car arrives, the rear window is down and Alexei realizes he’s in deep trouble. Let’s pick up from there:

Alexei jumped back from the rail between the sidewalk and the street just as the car reached him.

Randy sez: This is a reaction to seeing the window down. Alexei is a crook who’s spent all his life in the Russian underworld, so this is part reflex, part rational response.

Three shots–probably intended for his head–caught him in the chest and side. There was no sound of gunfire to attract attention, just three shrouded flashes and the soft zip zip zip of bullets leaving a silencer.

Randy sez: This is a motivation. How do we know? Because this is objective and external to Alexei. That’s what “motivation” is in MRU terminology. This should not be confused with what people usually mean by the word “motivation”. In MRU-speak, “motivation” means precisely that part of a scene which is objective and external to the POV character.

Alexei stumbled and fell.

Randy sez: This is a reaction. Alexei doesn’t do this intentionally, of course. It would be foolish to fall in his situation. But he doesn’t have much choice. He’s just been shot three times in the chest. He happens to be wearing a Kevlar vest, which is why he’s not dead. But even so, three bullets carry a lot of momentum, and he’s hurting. Notice that Rick doesn’t TELL us Alexei’s hurting. At this point, the action is fast and furious and telling us about Alexei’s pain would slow things down. There’ll be time for that in a minute.

“Hurry!” a voice urged in Russian from the front seat of the car. A tall, dark-haired man jumped out of the right rear door, still holding a Makarov pistol. He shoved the weapon into his jacket and quickly searched Alexei’s coat pockets.

Randy sez: This is a new motivation. It’s external to our POV character, Alexei. Notice that Rick doesn’t TELL us “Alexei saw…” He just SHOWS us what Alexei saw. This is important. You don’t want to waste words in a novel, and telling the reader that the POV character is seeing something or hearing something 500 times in a novel is a waste of 1000 words. The reader KNOWS the POV character is doing the seeing and hearing. Don’t treat your reader like a dummy.

As he knelt to frisk through Alexei’s pants pockets, Alexei’s hand suddenly grabbed his arm and held it in an iron grip. Alexei’s other hand shot into his jacket and pulled out the Makarov.

Randy sez: The first sentence here is mixed–partly motivation, partly Alexei’s reaction. The second sentence is all reaction. The pace here is quite fast. I would recommend in a situation like this putting a paragraph break between the motivation and the reaction. It makes a cleaner distinction between Alexei and his assailant and adds a little white space to the page, which makes the pace feel that much faster.

Zip! Zip! Two rapid pulls on the trigger.

Randy sez: Nice! This is the rest of the reaction, and it wastes not a single letter.

The would-be assassin, his eyes now vacant, fell heavily to the ground beside Alexei.

Randy sez: Very good! The action is zipping right along. Alexei isn’t out of the woods yet, of course, but he’s just pulled a nice turn-around on his assassins. He still needs to deal with the driver of the car, but he’s now got a gun. He doesn’t know that it’s jammed yet, but he’ll find that out shortly.

You have many options in your writing. When the pace is slow, you can get away with a lot of telling. But in a gunbattle like this, or any kind of action scene, you NEED to write in MRUs. Nothing else will show the action with any kind of realism.

More tomorrow…

I’ve been thinking about what to blog on next over the weekend and I think it’s time to revisit MRUs. A few of you specifically requested a discussion on this in the latest round of comments. Plus, I’ll be teaching a one-hour workshop on this at the ACFW conference in September, and now is a good time to put together some brand new material on this.

If you don’t know what MRUs are (maybe a weird sort of military meal?) then hie thee to my page on Writing the Perfect Scene and learn the basics. By the way, the page on Writing the Perfect Scene is rapidly growing in popularity (about 900 page views per week) and is now second only to the Snowflake page on this site.

Tomorrow, I’ll pick an example from literature and analyze it in terms of MRUs. Tonight, however, I’ll answer a question Lynda wrote:

The use of MRUs seems logical to me. However, I have been told they are formulaic and not to use them. What’s a newbie to think?

Randy sez: This is a good question, and I hear it quite often. It betrays a confusion between a “formula” and a “pattern.” Let me define those now:

A “formula” defines the way something MUST be done, but gives you little or no freedom to deviate from a certain standard. There is not any particular reason for a formula except that “it’s always been done this way.”

A “pattern” defines the way something CAN be done, but gives you enormous freedom to work within that pattern. There is a good rational reason for a pattern and those who understand that reason know when to ignore the pattern.

Some examples of “formulae” are as follows:
1) Fairy tales often begin with “Once upon a time…” and end “…and they lived happily ever after.” If you use these, you can’t change them by a single letter.

2) Certain “formula romance” novels are defined by exactly when the hero and heroine must meet (often by a certain page of the novel), what sort of difficulties they must have, how the story must end, and even the word-count of the novel. If you deviate from this formula, you may violate your contract.

Some examples of “patterns” are as follows:

1) The Three Act Structure known to all screenwriters. While a movie has three acts, the screenwriter has enormous freedom in what goes into those acts.

2) A limerick has a well-defined structure, with five lines in an A-A-B-B-A rhyme scheme, a certain required rhythm, and the requirement that the limerick should be funny. But within those strong constraints, there is almost infinite variety.

3) A car has four wheels located approximately at its four corners. In this case, there are clear reasons for having four wheels–stability and maneuverability. A vehicle with five wheels just doesn’t work. One with three can work, but only if you take special precautions on the stability.

In the world of software engineering (which is where I steal many of my ideas), the idea of “Design Patterns” has been popular for about fifteen years. “Design Patterns” are commonly recurring patterns that an engineer can use to create new structures of information or behavior. Yet there is tremendous freedom within each pattern, and there is a lot of freedom in mixing Design Patterns together.

My opinion is that the MRU (Motivation-Reaction Unit) is a Design Pattern that has fundamental importance to the novelist. It gives you a clear structure that can be understood rationally. It also gives you enormous freedom to innovate within the pattern. I’m sure there are nay-sayers who will tell you that MRUs are a mere “formula” but I say nay to the nay-sayers.

My advice is to master the art of MRUs and then (when you understand why they work) use them or don’t use them as you see fit. It’s your novel. Don’t let anyone else tell you how to write it. But you are cheating yourself if you don’t have every tool in your toolkit.

We’ve been critiquing first paragraphs for a few weeks now and I think it’s time to move on. So this will be the last one. I haven’t decided exactly what we’ll talk about next, but I’ll think about it over the weekend.

Here is Parker’s first paragraph of his novel:

The San Isidro church loomed a dark hulk against the gray sky. The moon and Venus hung just over the bell tower. Paul came at dawn. He watched the old men and women shuffle to early Mass, coats and scarves pulled tight against the sharp morning air. Six times the bell shattered the clear air. Six times the echo resounded off the mountains. And six times quivers pulsed up his spine.

Randy sez: A very fine first paragraph! You have captured a very strong sense of place, and that’s always a plus. Let’s look at this sentence by sentence:

The San Isidro church loomed a dark hulk against the gray sky.

Randy sez: This creates an immediate mood that I like. There are several emotive words here that all tell the same story: “loomed” and “dark” and “hulk” and “gray”. The one issue I have is the phrase “loomed a dark hulk”. It seems to me there should be a comma after “loomed.”

The moon and Venus hung just over the bell tower.

Randy sez: Good, this adds nicely to the mood.

Paul came at dawn.

Randy sez: This is good, but I think a stronger verb might strengthen this sentence. Did Paul stagger, shuffle, creep, sidle, amble, or glide? I think you can find a verb that captures the gray mood you’ve established.

He watched the old men and women shuffle to early Mass, coats and scarves pulled tight against the sharp morning air.

Randy sez: Good, I can see this in pretty sharp detail.

Six times the bell shattered the clear air.

Randy sez: A nice strong verb there–shattered. And this is the beginning of a repetition of the phrase “Six times”, which pulls in the power of the Rule of Three that we talked about last week.

Six times the echo resounded off the mountains.

Randy sez: Good, but could it be better? Could that verb “resounded” be chosen to fit the mood better?

And six times quivers pulsed up his spine.

Randy sez: Nice nouns and verbs there: “quivers” is a good noun; “pulsed” is a visceral verb; “spine” is just the right body part for quivers to be pulsing up. My one question is this: Do we need the “And” at the beginning? Would it work better to start “Six time…” for this sentence?

Notice that Parker has resisted the urge to tell us extraneous details. We don’t know what year it is. We don’t know Paul’s last name, nor his mission here, nor why he hates his mother. We know just enough to be intrigued. Dang! I want to read the rest of this chapter and see if it lives up to the first paragraph.

Go ahead, loyal blog readers, and see if you can tweak Parker’s paragraph a bit to sharpen it up. Also, I am still taking suggestions for our next topic of discussion, so feel free to leave a comment if you’ve got something burning.