So What?

The Heart of the Matter

I've read several stories recently that bring home one of the most important aspects of writing: answering the "So what?" question.  Readers have so much to do.  So why should they read your particular piece?  Where is its heart?  If the reader has to slog through multiple pages to get to a character or situation that is meaningful to them, chances are that even if they do finish THIS piece, they won't be back for more.

Caring

So how does one get to the heart, the meat, of the piece?  Here's the secret: make the reader care.  How?  By making the character care about a cause, a person, a pet, SOMETHING, anything.  On the first page, or as soon as possible, do something that brings home the humanity of your main character or even your villain.  The cheapest shot is to give him or her a puppy or a small child.  But this is only a cheap shot if the puppy or small child is simply tacked on.  If they're central to the story line, that's perfect.  If your character loves something, we readers are more likely to love your character.

But it's critical that we are SHOWN this love if you want us to feel it.  Don't tell us, "Susan loves her family."  Those remain words on the page.  But if we see Susan hugging her family, tears streaming down her cheeks [as long as it's not overdone or melodramatic] as she leaves the house to go to war [doesn't matter if she's going to war against a military enemy, a hostile supervisor at work, the zombie apocalypse, or death itself], we will feel it.

Which brings me another facet of making me care.  Help me see what is at stake in Susan's situation.  Something should be at risk.  It can be a romance, a job, her life, her family's lives, the world itself, something.  She needs to have a clear goal or desire, and that goal or desire needs to be in danger.  I think we have all read stories full of lush description and interesting dialogue that still fall flat because we don't care about the characters or their causes because THEY don't seem to really care about those around them or their causes.  They just go through the motions like puppets in a puppet show.  Convince me.  Show me.  Make me care.

For Example: 

Here is an example, starting with least compelling and going to most.  "Susan woke up, got ready for school, patted her dog, and left the house."  I don't care about Susan at this point.  I am not even sure why I'm bothering to read her story or why this bit is in here.  I put down the book.

So let's add some description to see if this helps.  "Susan woke up, stretched her thin, tanned arms, and pulled on her plushy blue sweater and skinny jeans.  She bounced into the bathroom and curled her golden hair then spritzed it with cherry-scented hair spray. She spread her bubblegum lip balm on her lips and flounced downstairs, patted her beloved dog, and ate a bowl of Golden Grahams with all the milk her bowl would hold.  Then she said, 'Bye' to her parents and sped to catch the bus."  Sure, some people will read past this to figure out why she seems so excited to go to school, but most will walk away.  It's not because the description didn't appeal to the senses.  We can taste her lip balm and cereal and smell her hairspray.  We feel her sweater.  We hear her bid her parents goodbye.  There is sensory detail here, but she doesn't seem to really care about anything or anyone.  The word "beloved" falls flat because we don't feel it.  There's nothing at stake.

So let's start again:

      Susan slammed the alarm, then noticed she'd hit snooze one time too many.  "Crap!  I can't miss the bus again! Mr. Bell will send me to detention for sure!"  She crawled out of bed, glad that she had fallen asleep in what she was wearing Sunday afternoon.  It was rumpled, but at least it wasn't pajamas.  She glanced in the mirror and saw her hair sticking up like porcupine quills.  She ran a brush through it then scooped it into a ponytail, trying to ignore the bits that stuck out. Those girls at the back of the bus would mock her no matter what, but it didn't help when she made it easy.  She spritzed it with the cheap, perfumy hairspray mom always bought.  It made her hair sticky but did nothing for the stray bits. "Whatever." Then she dashed downstairs, already deciding a growling stomach was better than a missed bus.

     Susan stopped short at the sight of her mom looking at her with red eyes and a tear-stained face. "We've put it off as long as we can.  Zipper can't eat anymore.  He's in too much pain.  We have to take him in today."

     "No!" Susan shouted.  "I've had him since I was little!  He was Daddy's last present to me!  You can't take him away!"  She threw her body across the prone form of her golden retriever, who whimpered under the pressure.  She inhaled his stale breath and matted, musty fur, praying it wouldn't be the last time.  "Please don't take him!"

     "Sweetie, I wish I could do something else, but I don't have a choice.  You'd better go, or the bus will leave without you.  I can't take you again.  I have to work for a couple of hours."

     "At least wait until I get home, so I can say goodbye!"  Susan dragged herself away from the dog and out the door.  She trudged toward the bus corner, only to find the bus pulling away from her stop.  Her heart sank, and a tear escaped.

There is some description here but not as much as in the last example.  However, most readers are likely to care about this last one more because A. there are several things at stake and B. Susan actually cares about something or someone.

Conclusion: 

If the main character has a heart, we feel it and care, especially if we can see something at stake and yearn to see what comes next.  Go back.  Look at what you're writing now, whether it be a short story, a poem, a non fiction piece, or a novel.  Reexamine what your character cares about.  Can the reader feel it?  Have other people read those critical first two to three pages and ask if they care about your character.  Because if these readers care, chances are others will as well.