Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Writing That Stellar Novel Part Four: Marinating

Inspiring Me Today: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

In my previous post in this series, I used the analogy of preparing a steak to describe the editing process. We discussed "trimming the fat," being able to recognize the true difference between fat and meat, and knowing when to cut fat and when to cut meat.

But what if you've cut too much fat, now you're steak... I mean your novel... is doomed for dryness? Or, what if your novel is a little dry from the start? Well, that's definitely a problem.

How do you know you have this problem? Well, you'll get comments from critique partners and agents (and editors, if you're lucky enough to be that far in the process) that say things like, "I just didn't feel a strong enough connection to the character," or, "I didn't care what happened to the MC," or worse, "I didn't like the MC." Another thing you'll hear a lot is "the story just didn't seem to have any heart." Of course, you're reading that and going, "It's a zombie book. There's plenty hearts. It's a favorite delicacy after the brains!"

Umm, you're being too literal dude. We're wanting the emotional stuff. If you're killing off characters and it should matter to us at all, we'll need to know something about them. Death in the abstract is, unfortunately, not enough to make an impact on most people. That's the whole point of The Hunger Games (which if you haven't read, SHAME ON YOU! Go buy it today!). The people in the Capitol don't care about what happens to the tributes because they don't know enough about them. The best they get is a little five-minute interview, and everything is mostly staged to get sponsors, so it's about how they'll win in the arena. Not really anything about them as a person.

For your book to succeed, whether you're killing people off or not, you're going to need that investment in your characters. How do you get that? Well, to keep with the food theme... you marinate. In other words, as counterproductive as it may feel to add when you're trying to cut down, you're going to need to write some.

The first question you may have is, "What's the difference between a marinade and fat?" Well, the truth is, marinades usually have some sort of fat in them. However, it's fat that is specifically chosen for its taste and its burn temperature (watch Alton Brown's Good Eats if you don't know what I'm talking about). We're talking about oil, not beef fat, which is why cooks cut fat only to add it back in with a marinade. These fats bring certain flavors and properties to the party that help with the overall experience of the dish. The choice is targeted and deliberate.

That's how marinating works. The same is true for novel-writing. If we don't care about your MC, you'll need to add in some fat, but the additions should be deliberate, and do more than add humor or insight. They shouldn't have a single flavor profile. Marinades usually combine oil, an acid, and also some herbs and spices. The different flavors "marry" and as such, the marinade serves many different purposes, including adding taste and tenderizing the meat. Your added scenes should have the same multidimensionality to them. If it's just a funny scene, it can go. If it's just a sad scene, it can go. If it's just an informative scene, it can go. It needs to be all that.

Make a list of all the things you know your novel is lacking. Do we need to know more about the main character's background so we can understand why it's so important that they find the cure for these zombies? Has the story been rushing along with tons of zombie killing action, and now your readers are worn out? Do we not understand what's binding these people together at all beyond the basic need to survive? Well, sounds like your story is needing some marinade.

In this particular instance, you're needing some info for the MC, some humor for your readers, and some interaction between your characters. Ok, so... info, humor, and interaction. How can we get all of that in a single scene? How about a conversation between your characters where they discuss your MC's background in a humorous way? Not that tricky, really.

Of course, with conversation scenes, it's best if you have them doing something instead of just talking if possible (I'm not always great at this part). Let's take the zombie book again. Well, one way is the classic of having your character talking while killing zombies (in a "this is starting to get routine now" sort of way). In fact, the scene itself could be humorous, and so the background element could be more personal and heartfelt. Another option would be having them talk while carrying out some important plot point (sneaking into the facility where the zombies were created so they can get the cure, for example). That's what I mean by targeted. Don't make it more fluff. Make the scene multidimensional and integrate it with the existing plot points. If it's just hanging out there disconnected to everything else going on, it's destined for the knife at some point.

It's a very delicate balance, I know. It's certainly not one I've mastered. However, if you can do it correctly, the right marinade can set your steak... your writing... apart from any other your readers have ever tasted.

1 comment:

Rocky said...

This is absolute truth. Great article, Kyle.

In regards to having your characters do something, Ben Bova (science fiction writer who 'found' Orson Scott Card) once wrote this: "Show, don't tell..." He continues on to explain that once you break the flow of the story's action you risk reminding your readers they're reading a story. The interaction moves from being a part of the events to attending a lecture.

Another important item he states is never allow the characters to tell each other anything they already know. For example, you have two scientist who have worked together on some project for the last ten years of their life. Scientist one begins telling Scientist two how it works and how the whole project came about. Shouldn't scientist 2 know this?

A good example of how background, plot, and character development come together is found in an opening scene of one of my favorite films: Raiders of the Lost Ark. When Indiana Jones is confronted by Beloq for the first time we get a glimpse at their history, who they are, and what the story is ultimately about.

We see Indiana Jones in his leather jacket and rugged clothes covered in spider webs. That tells us he likes to play in the dirt, so to speak.

Meanwhile, Beloq is dressed in nicer clothes with little dirt or grime on him. We've just been told Beloq has money and influence (surrounded by locals). We also know he's educated because he can speak the language. We also know he likes stealing from Jones and is willing to kill him if it came to that.

We also know Indiana is interested in history and preserving it, unlike his rival.

This drives the rest of the story so when we get to the scene with Jones holding a rocket launcher to the ark, we believe it because we know Jones - and it's all from this little scene of about 2 minutes. No one ever came out and stated the obvious. No one tried to explain their history. And yet, we know them very well.

One more example from the movie about advancing plot while combining elements. Lawrence Kasdan thought we should see Indiana in the field and at the University. 2 very different sides. We see (rather than tell) how energetic he his about his craft in both instances. Why is that important?

We'll when we get a small history lesson with Indiana explaining the history of the ark to the government agents they can get away with it. If the scene was different, Indiana explaining biblical history to Marcus Brody (the Dean and on the board at the Museum) would we have had the same exhilarating moment? Probably not.

To wrap this up and bring it all together, I really enjoyed Kyle's comments above and it really brings home the need to combine elements in a story to move it along and get you into the character's mind without lecturing to the reader. We learn more about a character and care more when we are shown rather than told who they are.