Framed

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I've been blogging about various ways in which writers can make any piece more literary.  One technique that has appeared in literature almost from the beginning is the frame story.  We've all read them.  The story opens with a character telling a tale or multiple characters telling multiple tales.  The main narrative is framed by another story.  Most times, it's used as a device in order to distance the author from the story and to allow the author to make commentary on the story. 

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Centuries-old stories from Egypt, Greece, Europe, and beyond employ this technique.  The Odyssey, One Thousand and One Nights, and The Canterbury Tales all feature this technique.  The storyteller's frame story often makes the story a fiction even within the fiction of the story.  It distances the story from the reader, makes it seem fanciful or somehow unreliable.  The Princess Bride is a fairly recent book, which was adapted into a movie, about a grandfather reading to his grandson a fantasy story, which is framed as an actual tome, though it's actually a fiction story framed by yet another fiction story.  This allows a modern voice to summarize and make satiric and reactive, self-aware commentary on what appears to be traditional fiction. 

[Scene from Percy Jackson series; Source]

Modern writers will sometimes use this technique for some of the same reasons but also sometimes in order to create the illusion that the events of the story actually happened.  Rick Riordan will sometimes start his fantasy series--such as the Red Pyramid series and the Percy Jackson series--based on mythology of various cultures, with the main character warning the reader away, saying you, too, could find out that you're in the same situation with the characters in the book.  It gives the reader a sense of inclusion but also tension, thinking that this danger could be the reader's danger as well.  It makes the story feel more personal.  Likewise, the Bunnicula series is framed by the main character, a dog, who swears his experience with a vampiric bunny is the truth.  Since it's a story written by a dog, it's clear the reader is supposed to take this to be a fiction. 

There are several ways that modern readers can use frame stories.  Research and read some of them.  Is this a technique that could work for you?  How may it help you frame your reader's reaction to your story or stories? 

Totally Meta

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I've been blogging about ways in which you can make any piece of writing more literary.  One kind of fiction that has become increasingly popular is metafiction, which is, according to the Oxford dictionary, fiction that acknowledges its own "artificiality or literariness by parodying or departing from novelistic conventions." In other words, it's a piece that breaks down the fourth wall and acknowledges itself as a piece of writing or some other kind of media.  Metafiction can make for fun parody and/or a meaningful piece that makes statements about its a genre and/or life. 

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Children's book authors employ metawriting in order to show children the power of words.  The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster is all about making literary conventions literal, thereby drawing attention to them as self-aware constructs within the novel over which the protagonist (i.e. the reader) can have influence.  A popular movie from the eighties was based on Michael Ende's The Neverending Story.  It's a movie about a boy reading a book in which the characters go on a quest to seek the boy reading the book.  By this, the reader within the book and (by extension) the reader of the book (or watcher of the movie) become part of the Neverending Story.  Through its meta nature, the book makes statements about the destructive nature of decreasing interest in books and the imagination in the modern generation.  In a similar way, Cornelia Funke's Inkheart draws attention to literary conventions by having characters capable of reading characters out of books, making the characters come to life.  The main villain comes into being in this way.  One of the characters is even able to make things happen through writing.  The Inkheart trilogy draws attention to the power of reading and writing to shape the world.  A popular meta children's book that explores its own world through self-aware meta techniques is Shannon Hale's Ever After High, especially book three.  The characters listen to and interact with the narrator, who goes mad and then must be replaced by some of the characters.  Since the characters can control and manipulate the story through their words and actions, the reader gets the feeling he/she, too, could have magical powers endowed by the power of writing.  Metafiction is a potent technique in writing. 

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Meta stories have become increasingly popular for adults in various media as well.   There is humor in breaking down that familiar fourth wall, that division between audience/reader and the protagonist and the events surrounding him/her.  Ferris Bueller talks right to the audience on a regular basis throughout "Ferris Bueller's Day Off."  This is part of the charm and humor of this movie.  The same technique appears throughout "Deadpool."  Self-awareness like this deconstructs the divisions between fiction and reality and can disarm and fascinate readers and audiences within every media, genre, and age group.   When we start "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," we're swept up into a medieval fictional search for the grail.  These scenes are interspersed with scenes wherein modern investigators are trying to track down a murderer.  (Spoiler alert)  The movie ends on a very meta note wherein the main characters are arrested for the murder by those modern investigators, which would make no sense if the story weren't so very meta.  Metafiction blurs the divisions between reality and fiction and makes us question what we think we know.

Think of ways that you can use metafiction in your writing.  My son's book involves characters who reference chapters, talk about the children reading the book, and interact with the author at various points.  The books are "illustrated" by one of the major characters.  Would your story work with meta aspects?  How would the use of meta techniques change or influence your story? 

You Know the Type

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I've been blogging about how to write in a more literary fashion.  One very common theme literary authors use in writing is the archetype.  Literary devices.net states that "an archetype is a typical character, an action, or a situation that seems to represent universal patterns of human nature."  Universal patterns, themes, and meanings are critical to shaping literature.  Using a good character archetype can effectively elevate your character beyond just a specific cowboy, artist, barbarian, etc. and turn him/her into a statement on the human condition capable of making a statement or social commentary in every scene he or she enters. 

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Without much thought, many of us could name several archetypes we know.  The common archetypes, as listed on Literarydevices.net are the hero, the mother figure, the innocent youth, the mentor, the doppelganger, the scapegoat, and the villain.  Some sources include 12 archetypes.  Others could name many more.  It would not be hard to name several of each type in literature.  Fairy tales are full of all of these, transparent in that so many fairy tale characters are named by type rather than individual names (Stepmother, Ella ("elle" in French means girl), Jack (a generic term for boy), Witch, Wolf, and so on.  In Star Wars, it's easy to name several of these as well.  Luke starts an innocent youth who eventually becomes a hero.  Padme is the mother figure.  Obi-Wan is the mentor.  Darth is the villain. You get the idea.  They're everywhere in literature because they come from and speak to the human condition and the "collective unconsciousness," as Jung calls it, or simply the culture.  In using these archetypes, we're alluding to all others like them.  We're inviting the reader to compare our mentor, mother, hero, etc. to those that came before in a way that can be fruitful and meaningful.  

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In the recent series "The Mandalorian," the creators of the show calls on a vast lineage of movie westerns when the titular main character walks into a bar without saying much and easily handles all who oppose him.  The audience recognizes this universal type immediately, and all they know from stories past sits below the surface.  We all know what to expect.  Except he then becomes intriguing, unique, different when he breaks type and becomes surrogate daddy to The Child, aka Baby Yoda.  This is a story we haven't necessarily heard before.  Traditional mentor becomes innocent child.  Hero/antihero/villain becomes mentor/father figure.  This is new and exciting.  

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The danger here is when we allow those archetypes to remain an obvious and flat stereotype.  If the witch is just a faceless villain in a classical fairy tale, that's okay simply because they're types more than characters.  However, if we just use a type instead of making in unique and fresh or self-aware or relatable or meaningful, we're not writing in a literary fashion.  We're not saying anything deep or profound except we believe in lazy writing.  What makes your witch, wolf, hero, villain, princess, etc. special?  Why should we root for your hero?  What makes us care about her?  Is your villain relatable?  Does he have motivation the reader can understand?  Does your hero have human failings?  Is she self-destructive, angry, vindictive, envious?  Is your innocent youth not so innocent after all?  Could it be that the wolf and mentor are really one and the same?  

Go through your characters and figure out in which archetypes your character may fit.  What makes them universal, understandable, and relatable?  What literary lineage are you drawing on to make this character?  How does this help?  How does the presence of a scapegoat or mother figure or some other type make allusions or invite comparisons to others in that type?  How does he/she stand out and make this character unique?  


           

Sharing Your Light

I've been blogging about how to make your writing more literary, regardless of genre.  The main thing that sets literary works apart from writing that just tell a story is to instill it with meaning.  For many people, these can just be general themes such as the importance of love or being true to yourself.  Some people want to share more specific truths they have learned through experience or creed.  A Christian writer this time of year may want to share something about the Christmas season this time of year.  A Jewish writer may want to share their thoughts on something like Hanukkah.  A disillusioned writer may want to share about the blahs they feel this time of year or their frustrations with commercialism or with some aspect of that same Christmas season.  Someone who is in mourning may want to share their pain and struggles of dealing with people's expectations that they smile and be happy this time of year.  Many people have Truths with a capital T they want to share about their inner life with people who understand or who want to understand.  Regardless of the truths one wants to share, writing is a great way to do it. 

In nonfiction, this is simply a matter of stating and explaining the truths you wish to share or illustrating them with experiences or anecdotes.  It's rather more complicated in fiction because the moment you start overtly preaching with no prior emotional investment is the moment many readers put the book down and walk away.

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So what do you do instead?  You create a context in which the reader cares about your message.  You create an emotional investment, characters who suffer and know what's at stake if they fail.  You shape characters that will make choices within the world of your novel, and those choices or their consequences may be influenced by whatever truths you want to share.  For instance, To Kill a Mockingbird has very specific truths to share about prejudice and hatred and their consequences for society and for individuals within it.  These can be considered themes or specific truths the writer wants to share.  What happens when law supports ignorance and hatred?  Innocents are hurt and even die.  There isn't a lot of preaching in the book, but the truths come through loudly and clearly through the harmful actions of the antagonist and their consequences.  What happens when good people stand up for those who are persecuted by such a system?  People learn, especially the next generation, who can carry that message forward and spread it. The reader cares about the little girl named Scout and her brother and, through their eyes, start to care about others within the fictional world, which can also start the reader thinking about issues and people outside of the fictional world.  This is a strong and resonant way to share truths. 

If you want to teach truth, make sure your reader cares about your main character.  Make sure that what he or she learns, does, suffers, etc. help the reader broaden their mind without a lot of unnecessary preaching.  Share what you want to share implicitly as much as possible.  Have you done this yet?  If not, carefully consider how to make it happen. 

Know Your Audience

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I've been blogging about how to make any kind of writing more literary.  I had a chat with a fellow writer this week that made me start thinking about the importance of knowing your audience.  Some readers/audiences--like children and Marvel fans--like adventure with a side of humor.  Some readers/audiences like a focus on romance, no matter what the genre.  Some readers/audiences--such as DC and horror fans--may have a tendency to see anything with a heavy emphasis on humor or romance as trivial or weak.  It's so important to know your audience in order to write something that appeals to them. 

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Some writers say that the most important thing is to be true to your own voice.  There is definitely validity to this.  If you aren't true to your voice, what's the point of writing?  Your voice is what makes your writing unique.  Hemingway became famous through writing in a minimal fashion, using no extra words.  Mark Twain became famous for his folksy writing and American frontier themes.  Poe's voice excels at its dark themes and voice.  They wrote in a way that was true to themselves and their voice. 

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At the same time, in order to get published and popular within your genre, you have to know the conventions of the genre.  What attracts readers to that genre?  What gives them fulfillment when they read a piece?  This is the part that is critical in order to fit into a genre.  Your voice is what makes you stand out in that same genre.  Effective writing walks the line between being true to your voice and your audience.  Read other pieces in your genre as well as anything you can find on what makes your genre tick.  Know your genre well.  Then, figure out how your writing will stand out.  What themes do you want to emphasize?  What voice are your going for?  Once you figure this out, you're ready to excel. 

Dramatic Structure

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I've been blogging about what makes a piece of writing more literary. I recently went to listen to an experienced novelist, Chris Heimerdinger, talk about the rules for dramatic structure. Recently, I watched the recent "Godzilla" movie, not expecting much.  But I was still disappointed.  I realized what went wrong with that movie had everything to do the story structure Heimerdinger described.  Dramatic structure has everything to do with what goes wrong with a lot of movies and novels. 

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According to Heimerdinger, a properly-structured story features a human or humanized protagonist, someone with a consciousness and speech.  This character must have a noble goal and a tragic flaw, like Luke Skywalker sought to overturn the evil empire but was held back by his own ignorance.  The character's noble goal cannot be overcoming their tragic flaw. 

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The story also must have an antagonist, someone whose goal is in direct opposition to the protagonist's goal, just as the Emperor's goal is to extend the power of the empire.  Heimerdinger said that the antagonist could not be redeemed.  I'd say there are exceptions to this, but he was most firm any exceptions to these rules mess with the strength of the story.  He suggested Darth Vader's redemption could actually make him a protagonist, though an argument could be made that he was merely a sub-antagonist.  One way or another, if one views Darth as a non-antagonist, the movie still follows the dramatic structure.  Another major point Heimerdinger was that the antagonist also can't be a storm, an animal-like animal, or anything else without a consciousness.  He gave the example of "Jaws."  The shark is not the antagonist.  According to Heimerdinger, the antagonists tag team: first, the mayor, then, the boat captain.  They take turns countering the goals of the protagonist in stopping his attempts to defeat the shark. 

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The climax is the point at which the protagonist, him or herself and no one else, defeats/overcomes the antagonist.  No one else can do it.  And he/she achieves victory by overcoming/accepting/coming to terms with the tragic flaw.  He points out that muddying these major points will make your story unsatisfying and will mess up your reader's emotional connection with the character. 

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I mentioned before the recent "Godzilla: King of the Monsters."  This movie felt incredibly unsatisfying to me.  The movie makers started out right by making an emotional connection between the seeming protagonist, the juvenile star, and her mother, but the movie fell apart quickly after.  I asked myself why?  It took no more than reflecting on the dramatic structure to identify the deep flaws in this story.  The "protagonist," the juvenile female, is on the screen a very few minutes, and her "antagonist," the military type who is supposed to be fighting her objective to defeat or befriend the monsters, gives up about 2/3 of the way through the movie and walks away.  She does so little that she can't really be the protagonist, just as he can't be the antagonist.  So who is the real protagonist?  Who is the real antagonist?  Who fights whom?  In the end, the only possible protagonist is Godzilla, himself, and his antagonist is the dragon.  Theirs is the dramatic tussle at the end, yet the fail in he fundamental test of a good protagonist/antagonist...neither is remotely human or humanized.  They can't bring heart into the story because we don't know or care about their characters or motivation.  They fight because they're big and they can.  Because it makes for a cool poster moment.  The movie totally lacked heart because the story isn't about someone with a heart and motivation we can understand.  It's about a monster whose job it is to bash the other monster.   

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Avoid these pitfalls.  Figure out who your protagonist is.  What is his/her tragic flaw?  Does your character come to terms with/overcome the flaw?  Does your protagonist have a noble goal?  Does your antagonist have a goal that somehow counteracts or conflicts with that goal?  Does your protagonist him/herself defeat or somehow overcome the antagonist?  If you answered no to any of these questions, it's time to reassess.  How can you adjust your story to give your reader the maximum satisfaction and fulfillment? 

Text and Subtext

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I've been blogging about how to make your writing more literary.  By literary, I mean full of meaning, often beneath the surface.  One way to do that is to build more than one level of meaning into a scene.  Most scenes you see in television or read in a book has one level of meaning.  Two characters greet each other then talk about the weather, bad news, sports, or events of the story past, present, or future.  A truly skilled writer can make  dialogue about two things at once. 

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Watch for text and subtext dialogue.  You'll find it everywhere.  If you can spell out two topics on which characters are speaking at once, you're watching or reading a scene rich in text and subtext.   In Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility, the two romantic leads speak of friendship when they really want to speak of love.  That's a common one.   Let's say you're using dramatic irony.  One of your characters knows the world is about to end.  The other character is blissfully ignorant.  An example of this is in a recent Netflix series, "Umbrella Academy."  One character asks his beloved what she would do if they only had one left to live.  She thinks of this question as romantic because she supposes they have all the time in the world to spend together, and he's only asking because he wants to get to know her better.  What does she prioritize?  For a less skilled writer, that's exactly what the intent of the line of questioning would be.  However, both viewer and the male character understand the world will end in one day, and the main characters are trying to stop this apocalypse.  He really is asking her how she wants to spend her last day alive and, thereby, asking the viewer the same question.  How would you spend your last day alive?  Because the world could end at any time. 

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There are several scenes in books and movies with two levels of dialogue.  There may be characters keeping it polite by discussing the weather when it's clear they are fighting over custody of the kids who are sitting around the dinner table with them.  Two characters may be speaking in code--understood by the reader--while the third is trying to figure out what the other two are talking about.  A pair dripping with sexual tension may be arguing about a sports team when what they want to do is kiss, but they don't want to want that for whatever reason.  You can use symbolism, metaphor, or simply weighted words, words that say two things at once.  Truly good dialogue will often say two things at once. 

Now, look through your dialogue.  Are there places where the readers are speaking of just one thing, but you can make that scene mean more by having them speak of two?  Are there places you can add humor, intrigue, or tension by adding another layer of dialogue?  If so, then carefully weigh each word.  What line of benign questioning or explanation can cover a deeper, more intense meaning?  Go to it.