Do You Yada Yada?

I don't have a lot of time to watch TV, but my recent trip to New York allowed me to catch a few Seinfeld re-runs. I'm still amazed at how well the humor and writing hold up. There are so many memorable lines and plots. Remember this one?

"The Yada Yada" episode came back to me after a recent meeting of my writing group. We've been meeting for almost two years now and certain patterns have been emerging in the mistakes we all keep repeating. I'm starting to think that most writing problems boil down to just a handful of common pitfalls. These pitfalls can be obvious to spot in other people's writing, but can be difficult to see in our own.

The most common problem that has been showing up in our group is the tendency to gloss over the most compelling part of a scene or plot point. The scene might start out strong, full of dialogue and vivid detail, but at the moment that requires big action or the story reaches an uncomfortable emotional pitch (in other words, the stuff we readers live for) the writer tends to summarize, back off so that everything suddenly works out, or abruptly end the scene. Rather than confront the dramatic moment, we often yada yada our way out of it. Another name for this phenomenon is "a missed opportunity".

Experienced writers are just as prone to the missed opportunity as newer writers. A few years ago, there was a much-celebrated, award-winning novel that I read that I didn't much care for. The story had all the makings of a great novel, but in my mind it fell short. I couldn't articulate what was missing until a friend of mine, who felt the same way about the book, pointed out that all the major plot points happened "off camera" with the characters discussing or retelling what happened after the fact. All the tension was kept at bay or diffused and the reader was never allowed to experience the most dramatic parts of the story.


The Causes 

As far as I can tell, missed opportunities are rooted in three causes: laziness, fear, or not knowing how to handle an aspect of the writing. No matter what the cause, a missed opportunity is a decision not to proceed.  Rather than writing through a difficult scene, confronting our fear of failure, or researching writing techniques, we are deciding at a subconscious level not to deal with it. We are fooling ourselves into believing no one will notice if we sweep it under the rug. Maybe some readers won't, but the overall effect will be a flat story, devoid of emotional engagement.


Recognizing the Symptoms

If missed opportunities happen at a subconscious level, how do you know when they're there? Answering 'yes' to any of the following questions is a clue that you've given your story the yada yada:

Do big scenes happen off the page? 
Are action scenes over within a few sentences?
When my protagonist encounters a problem, is it easily solved?
Do my characters tend to agree with one another about crucial issues?
During an emotionally intense exchange does one character give in to make peace?


The Cure

Fixing the problem is simply a matter of reversing it. If big scenes happen off the page, bring them in. Lengthen and slow down action scenes. When a character encounters a problem, don't magically fix it. Remember, it's your job to make your protagonist's difficult. The more confrontations, the more obstacles, the more thwarted desires, the better. Don't back away from drama.

Because here's the truth...As much importance as we put on the beginnings and endings of stories, what really makes them compelling is how your characters get from point A to B. That's the yada yada. Don't rob your readers of the experience.

Getting Unstuck

I've spent the last few weeks moving forward with my stuck manuscript. I'm usually a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of writer, but since the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results I decided to try a new approach. Instead of just diving in with the umpteenth rewrite, I took a step back and did a little planning--something I almost never do.
I can't believe how much of a difference this approach has made.

Sometimes you have to do a 180 to get a fresh perspective. Do you have a stuck manuscript? Here are a few ideas to help you get back on track. They really worked for me.

Immerse Yourself in Other People's Words.  The best way to get inspiration is to read, read, read. Read classics, read contemporary authors, read non-fiction and poetry. Learn from others. I'll truly never understand writers who don't like to read or who say they avoid reading when they're working (What? You're not working all the time?).  I know I'm reading a great book when it makes me want to run to my computer and write. I love this quote from Lisa See: "Read a thousand books and your words will flow like a river." Amen.

Share Your Work With a Trusted Reader. When you don't know how to move forward with a piece, it's often a good idea to get a fresh perspective from someone who is an avid reader in your particular genre. He doesn't even have to have mad editorial skills to be helpful--the reader's reaction alone can be informative. Which scenes or characters stand out for him? What themes is he picking up? What piqued his attention? Where did it wane?

Write Out a Sketch of Each Character. How well do you know your characters? The more specific you get about each character the easier it's going to be to get to the heart of the story. Knowing your character goes far beyond superficial details. Even though I had a complete manuscript with well-developed characters I still sat down and wrote out everything I knew about them. What I discovered is that throughout the manuscript my characters' motivations and wants were a little cloudier than I thought. It's not enough to know what they're feeling--you have to know what's at stake for them and what they're willing to lose. I'll have more specifics on this in a future post.

Make an Outline. Most writers belong in one of two camps--outliners and wingers. Some need to plan out the entire plot in advance, while others--like me--follow wherever the characters  take them. I've been a longtime proponent of winging it, believing in Robert Frost's assertion "no surprises in the writer, no surprises in the reader" but I'm changing my tune a little bit. I've realized that part of the reason why my story wasn't working was that I'd failed to make some key decisions. The plot was chugging along, but since I didn't know my characters as well as I should have, their actions weren't specific enough. To remedy this problem, I went through the entire manuscript and wrote a summary of what needed to be accomplished in each scene. I also wrote summaries for scenes that appeared to be missing. As I did this, the story became much more focused. Now, as I'm rewriting, I'm able to approach each work day in a more relaxed way because I've already decided what each scene needs.

Keep the Momentum Going by Setting Goals. When you feel ready to tackle your rewrite, set a deadline and tell others about it to hold yourself accountable. I've chosen August 31st as my deadline (with you , dear blog reader, as my witness). In order to stay on track, I've divided the number of days until my deadline by the number of chapters. I need to edit a chapter every three days in order to keep on track. I have written each chapter deadline on my calendar so I know where I stand. Currently, I'm three days ahead of schedule--yay me!

Write Every Day. Until now, I've given myself weekends off. I'll probably go back to that schedule eventually, but right now I can't imagine letting a day go by without doing a little editing. It's been tough with summer break and the kids being home. I have to steal my writing time any way I can. The confidence I'm feeling right now is a brittle, fragile thing. I can't afford to let myself get stuck again.


What do you do to get unstuck?

Never Begin at the Beginning

Start as close to the end as possible.

--Kurt Vonnegut 

Right now I'm in the midst of a heavy re-write and my first task is to cut to the chase, both literally and figuratively. My novel is broken up into three parts and involves an elderly art history professor named Ovid who is no longer able to care for himself. In the first third of the novel, I establish Ovid's current living situation, the relationships within his family, and pertinent information about his past. In the second part, Ovid decides he doesn't like that he's losing control over his life and makes a break for it. The last third involves the family's search for him.

I love writing from Ovid's point of view. He's verbose, a little cranky, well-read, and sees the world through the lens of art. His voice is very rich. The problem with loving a character too much is that you run the risk of falling in love with him and then he can do no wrong. While he yammers on apropos of nothing, boring your audience to tears, all you do is sigh and say, "Isn't he dreamy?"

When I was writing the first draft, I thought I had enough writing experience under my belt to recognize when I was spending too much time setting the stage for a story--but apparently not. After reading the first third of the manuscript, my agent told me the story was "a little slow." Really? This surprised me. I thought it actually moved at a pretty good clip. "Just wait until you get to Part II when he runs away," I said. "That's where it really starts to pick up."

Bingo! And just like that, we found the real beginning of the story.

So now I'm trying to condense, clarify, eliminate, and combine scenes from the first third to get to the real beginning as quickly as I can. Now that I know where the real story begins, I can see that so much of what I thought was the real beginning was just a lot of thinking out loud. It was more of an exercise in discovering character and not entirely pertinent to what was happening. While this exercise was useful to me, it wasn't necessarily useful to the reader.

I have to wonder though--how much of the problem here is me being long-winded and how much is the impatience of the modern audience? Is it absolutely crucial that I cut to the chase right away? Couldn't I just dabble a little bit in character or mood like Henry James? It makes me think back to the mid-1990's when record stores started putting in listening stations. Customers would skim through the first few songs on an album and if they weren't impressed would walk away. Musicians responded by "front loading" their albums--putting their best songs first in order to grab the listener right away, instead of putting the songs in an order that shaped the listening experience.

Are writers now expected to "front load" their novels in order to capture the short attention spans of today's readers? Are today's story beginnings much further into the plot than they used to be?

What are your thoughts on story beginnings as a writer? As a reader?

That's Why They Call It Fiction

I love this article in today’s Guardian by Linda Grant about the public’s need to believe that all fictional stories are somewhat based in fact. I understand her aggravation—though I don’t feel it quite so acutely—when readers automatically assume that ‘writing what you know’ means directly lifting stories from your own life.

At every reading I’ve ever been to, someone always asks the author “Where do you get your ideas?” This is often a thinly veiled way of asking, “Is the story true?” or “Are these characters based on real people?” I recently spoke to a reader who lived close to my hometown. She said she enjoyed the characters in my book, but because she didn’t live in my hometown she, in her words, “wasn’t able to connect the dots,” which I took to mean that she wasn’t able to figure out who I was writing about. Afterward, I started wondering if people in my hometown were also trying to “connect the dots”, and if so, how horrifying that would be. I have no interest in exposing the secrets of people I know or dressing them up to be unrecognizable. Just because I grew up in a small town and wrote a book about a small town, doesn’t make my work any less fictional.

There's no question that life informs a writer's work, but fiction writers are not interested in documenting their experiences. If we were, we would write memoirs or essays instead or simply become journalists. What we love is the act of creation, not disguise.

Analyze This

I’m not a big fan of dissecting literature. I love hearing writers talk about their process or read their work aloud, but the second they start talking about the motivations of their characters I get a little squirmy. It just seems odd to psychoanalyze fictional people. And there’s almost no way to do it without sounding like you take yourself oh-so-seriously.

During my promotional tour for THE GREATEST MAN IN CEDAR HOLE, I had the opportunity to call in to a number of book clubs. Talking with readers is a joy, because they always bring a fresh perspective and enthusiasm to the work. They also dissect like no one’s business, finding connections and symbols that had never even dawned on me. It becomes a sort of detective game to see if they can figure out what I was thinking when I was writing the story. Often these revelations are presented with such eagerness and a need for validation that I feel as though I’m letting them down when I admit that their findings are more of an accident than any sort of brilliance on my part.

I’m sure there are a many writers out there who purposely load their work with a rich undercurrent of genius for the reader mine. However, I suspect that for most of us, we simply want to write a good story that is as real and true as we can make it. That’s not to say that we aren’t inclined to sprinkle our work with a few symbols here in there or weave a theme or two throughout, but in general I think subtext is more often subconscious than intentional. That’s why overanalyzing strikes me as a fruitless pursuit.

Whether subtext is intended or not is beside the point. When a reader asks me if they’re right about a symbol or the motivation of a character, I have only one response—yes. I sometimes tell them what my intention was, but that's irrelevant. A story is a collaboration between writer and reader and my point of view is but one side of it. I am not the final authority on the story. Whatever a reader finds through her microscopic lens is not necessarily my truth, but a reflection of her own.