Now, it’s absolutely fine–if not sometimes preferable–to not have tags after dialogue,  especially in a quick exchange. The more words there are to read, the slower action will seem to be passing. So, if Bill and Sam are having an argument, it might be preferable to have an exchange along the lines of:

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bill said.
“You’re an idiot.” Sam crossed his arms.
“Who’s the one who tried sailing a bottle to China?”
“I was five, let it go.”

And so on and so forth. Without the tags, more focus is placed on the dialogue, and it, as a whole, reads more quickly. So, all in all, a good thing.

Why I don’t suggest not using tags as a suggestion in my previous “said” article, however, is it’s very, very easy to abuse it. While it’s fine to have some untagged dialogue, what you definitely want to avoid is floating dialogue. That is, untagged dialogue that leaves the reader wondering who the heck is talking.

As I have said before, writers tend to have a bias when it comes to dialogue vs. narrative. Some find dialogue difficult to write, some hate narrative, it really just comes down to what each writer’s strengths are. For those who tend towards dialogue, floating dialogue is a common problem I see with new writers.

Now, I can only speak from personal experience, but the reason I tend to write so much dialogue is that, where narrative can seem wordy and forced, the call and response nature of dialogue keeps it coming so quickly that sometimes I have troubles keeping up with where I want the conversation to go. Since I hear the characters talking in my head, it’s easy enough to just write what they’re saying and forget about writing what they’re doing in my head. It’s their words that are important after all, right?

Well, sort of. While, in those situations, you are probably doing the bulk of your story telling in the dialogue, the readers sadly isn’t seeing what you’re seeing your characters doing while reading. And so, while you are writing a powerful, emotional scene between your main characters, filled with brilliant, brilliant dialogue, your reader is being left with something akin to the written version of hearing a movie in the next room without being able to see who’s talking or what they’re doing.

While it’s a fine balance–you never want to talk down to your readers/hit them over the head with something they probably already understand–you don’t want to make it too difficult for them understand what’s happening. If you’re spending every other page flipping around trying to understand who’s talking, you’re more than likely not going to get invested in the story. When you aren’t invested in the story and it’s taking a lot of effort just to understand the basics, it’s pretty likely you aren’t going to enjoy the book/will be putting it down not too far in.

And so, if you are planning on using untagged dialogue, watch out for floating dialogue by:

1. Only use untagged dialogue when there are two people in the conversation. When it comes to floating dialogue, this is probably the biggest problem I’ve found in my editing work. While it’s fine to switch off between two people in an argument without tags, you can’t do that where there are multiple people sitting around. For example:

“Hi,” Sam said.
“Hey,” Bill said.
“How are you?” Karen asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Awesome. Do you want to go to the park?”
“I don’t know, it looks like rain.”
“No, I saw the weather report. Just cloudy.”

Ok, hands up. Who can tell who’s saying what at the end of the conversation? Since Karen asks Sam a question (How are you?) the “I’m fine” is probably Sam again, but then, is it Karen saying “Awesome”? Or is it Bill? And who says it looks like rain? Bill? Sam? Karen? Depending on who said “Awesome” it could be any of them.

In contrast with just two people:

“Hi,” Sam said.
“Hey,” Bill said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Awesome. Do you want to go to the park?”
“I don’t know, it looks like rain.”
“No, I saw the weather report. Just cloudy.”

Perhaps still a little float-y, but at least you can more than likely tell it’s Sam-Bill-Sam-Bill-Sam-Bill.

2. Don’t use untagged dialogue when the characters are doing something. As stated in my “don’t be afraid of ‘said’” article, you can get around using ‘said’ over and over again by making the tags action. For example:

“How are you?” Bill shuffled his papers away.
Sam took a seat across the desk from him. “I’m fine.”

In this case, the dialogue tags are not only telling the reader who’s speaking, but acting as stage directions in a way. Going back to the movie example, with no tags and multiple people, you’re in the other room listening to a bunch of talk from who knows how many people. With no tags and two people, you at least can tell who’s speaking, but that’s all you have, a bunch of lines with no action. If all your characters are doing is standing around having a conversation, you don’t need any tags. If they’re moving around, though, you need to show it–and while it’s happening. Putting on an action tag not only shows the reader what’s happening (what the “actor” is doing on-screen) but it also keep the reader up to date. One thing I perhaps find the most annoying of all floating dialogue problems is something along these lines:

“How are you?” Bill asked.
“Fine,” Sam said.
“That’s cool, have you seen my new pet?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, here it is!”
While they had been talking, Bill had walked around the corner and pulled out a giant dog that then attacked Sam.

a) Action slows down when the actual exciting part is buried under a mountain of “this is what you missed”

b) For the past five lines I’ve been picturing Bill and Sam standing there talking, now I have to reattach it to the incorrect visual I have in my head, which means I have to backtrack in my mind slightly rather than staying with the action.

Both of these problems can be solved by simply tagging the lines with action:

“How are you?” Bill asked.
“Fine,” Sam said.
“That’s cool.” Bill slowly moved towards one corner of the room. ”Have you seen my new pet?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, here it is!”
Bill pulled out…

3. Don’t put tags in after a new person has already entered the conversation. In the same vein of not making the reader play catch up to the action, if a third person enters into a two person untagged conversation, make sure the reader knows it immediately.

“Hey,” Bill said.
“Hey, how are you?” Sam asked.
“Not bad.”
“Awesome, do you want to go to the park?”
“I don’t know. It looks like rain.”
“Oh, hey Karen, how are you?”

Wait, what? When did Karen get there? Was she actually speaking when I thought it was Bill? When possible–if you don’t have a legitimate reason for keeping the reader off balance–try not to make the reader confused enough to stop and reread previous lines.

4. Even in a two person conversation, don’t only use tags at the very beginning of the conversation. Ok, so there are two people standing there talking to each other. Nothing else it happening, it’s just going to be a quick back and forth. Sounds like the perfect place not to use tags. You mark the first speaker as Bill, the second as Sam, and then go at it. If it’s a very short conversation, that’s absolutely fine. If it’s going to go for pages back and forth, still make sure you throw some more tags in their down the line, even if it’s just to make sure someone doesn’t miss a line somewhere and get really confused when it seems like Sam’s saying what Bill would. A good rule of thumb is to have names attached to dialogue atleast three times a page, just to make it clear which speaker is which. Of course, that’s just a vague outline. If it seems likely the reader is still going to get confused even with three tags, make sure you put more in. If you think it’s crystal clear, you might be able to go for longer between tags (though checking in with a beta reader/editor who can tell you if they’re lost will help you know whether or not it really is that apparent later on).

5. Remember the reader isn’t inside your head. And, as always, this is the big one. While it might be obvious in your head that Bill is saying something and then Sam is, you just can’t expect the reader to know that. While it’s so obvious to you that Bill’s moving across the room while speaking, until you’ve written it down, the reader just can’t know that. Don’t over explain things (if it isn’t important that the main character just got their hair done and put on some new sneakers they bought last week, you don’t need to say it. If you already said they don’t like peas, you don’t have to repeat it) but make sure you have all of the necessary information to keep them from being confused a couple of paragraphs down. Are multiple people speaking without any way for someone outside of your head to know who you mean says what? Then use tags. Is the character moving around while talking? Then use action tags. Are there just two people standing there having an important conversation? Then you’re probably ok if you don’t want to use tags for a little while.

This film, also known as a mockumentary, takes place in the foothills around Norway. In the western woods of Norway, a group of college filmmakers come upon a story of a hunter who is killing bears out of season. After establishing this mysterious man as an actual person, the group comes upon his truck and trailer at an outpost. Wanting to speak with him, a bit of secretive filming is underway. It is not until the group goes too far that they discover that the bear hunter they want to out for his criminal behavior, is actually a troll hunter.

Not understanding the repercussions of their actions, and a huge dose of incredulity, these college kid fools partake in the hunting and rangling of trolls. This is where the movie gets interesting. Throughout their whole fantastical endeavor, the filmers keep asking questions of Hans the trollhunter (Otto Jespersen). With his vast knowledge of lore turned into fact through the act of interacting with the trolls, these college kids learn that what Hans says, goes. In a final confrontation you’ll have to “see” to “believe”, this movie pushes the boundaries of the fantastical and mythical.

The trollhunting crew.

I think what threw me off the most in this film was the way the trolls looked in the movie. I had my knowledge of trolls from Bilbo Baggins and the dwarves from The Hobbit. I had the various depictions I’ve seen in fairytales and what a bridge troll acts/looks like. I was caught off guard to see a shambling, bumbling, big nosed troll come strolling through those trees. With the look came no threat of danger or horror for me. But, after looking at paintings of Norwegian trolls, and some more plot from the movie, I have come to a better understanding of the Norwegian’s connection to trolls. At the time it was hard to see how these CG trolls could be of any threat, but the element of scientific belief that went into making this movie seem real was excessive and believable, to say the least. I give it to them for that.

A cryptic image...

Other than the disbelief that went into watching this movie, I enjoyed the overall feel and dialogue behind the characters and plot. This movie, like an academic paper, set out to prove a point, and the point was delivered home. The only part I question is what Christian blood and believing in God had to do with anything in the end. As a device of horror, yes. As a strange prerequisite to interact with trolls, it was odd. But the movie did just enough showing without having to beat into your head that you’re looking at trolls in the film, but leaving them as these evil beasts that can come upon you in the night. And I think the scientific explanation of why trolls turn to stone was quite good. So, despite my skepticism, I enjoyed the film in the end. Especially the last scene with the Norwegian president. Throw him that curve ball. A solid 6.1 out of 10.

What could've done this?

************************************************************************

Now, anyone who’s ever read my work knows I’m big fan of dialogue. As I’ve pointed out before, I’ve even gotten letters from my editors claiming some of my short stories to be 95% dialogue. While I’m not sure that’s completely fair, I am completely willing to admit you can often find my short stories in an anthology by flipping through it until you find one that has a huge chunk of dialogue in the middle of a page.

Now, is that a good thing? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I seem to have made it work for me. And I’d think it’s a good things too since dialogue is what I find easiest to write. My narrative may have been less than stellar with my first couple of novels (Mary Sues, wordiness, and info dumps abound, I promise) but going back now the dialogue’s actually not that bad.

For some people, though, I know dialogue is the hardest part. On the NaNoWriMo Forums we find:

“I always have a hard time writting dialogue so If someone could help me It would be appreciated.”

“I think good dialogue is very hard to write. So I’ve resigned myself to the fact that it will require extra effort when it’s time to rewrite and revise… “

“I’m about 1,000 words into my NaNo and for some reason I”m stuck on dialogue.  When I wrote out the beginning of this conversation it sounded fine in my head, however, on paper/screen, it looks horrendous.”

Struggling with narrative and struggling with dialogue are both bad things (they make for stilted/unnatural reading) but for right now I will focus on some tips for writing better dialogue.

1. Listen. Just like people develop an ear for notes when they’re musicians (my French Horn-playing brother can pick out a flat note from a mile away) writers tend to develop an ear for language. Some people are better at it naturally than others, but if someone writes well, somehow or another they’ve figured out what sounds right.  Developing that ear is part of what makes writing get better over time (practice makes perfect after all) and while reading good writing can definitely help with that, when working on writing better dialogue, simply sitting down and listening can be one of your greatest tools.

In acquisitions, you see people put down all sorts of credits on their query letters (past publications, degrees, having worked as a journalist/technical writer, etc.) and you learn very quickly which credits mean something. The reason spending 20 years as a technical writer for a company doesn’t mean much on a query letter is that creative writing is very different from formal writing. Being a technical writer means that (hopefully) you have good spelling and grammar, but it doesn’t say you can write a good novel. People talk in fragments, they use poor grammar, they use slang. Where you’d never (again hopefully) find a piece of business writing that says, “Me and my guys…” You may very well find a character in a novel saying it, and making it work.

The more you listen to those speaking around you, the more you will be able to write dialogue naturally.

2. Don’t be too formal. As I said up above, people don’t talk in completely proper English (some seem to barely speak it at all). One of the most common problems I see in novels I’m editing with stilted dialogue is that, for some reason, the author has gotten rid of most of their contractions. Perhaps it comes from years of teachers trying to get us not to use contractions in formal essays (I know my teachers did) but creative writing is a completely different animal from formal/technical writing (it’s why writing “This is my first novel, but I’ve been a technical writer for X years” isn’t so helpful on your query letters, FYI). Taking contractions out of your dialogue makes your character sound awkward. It’s actually, I’ve found, one of the best ways to make your character sound like a non-native speaker. People use slang, people use improper grammar, people slur words. Don’t over do it, but embrace it for more natural dialogue.

2b. Don’t use stereotypes/slang you don’t know. Side note to the last two sentences of number 2, people use slang/improper grammar, but they aren’t stereotypes. Don’t try to force in slang you aren’t familiar with to try to make a [enter ethnicity/nationality/age here] character sound “natural” A little might be ok, but making a character say “wicked” or “dawg” every other sentence will sound just as unnatural as overly proper dialogue (and has the added bonus of often coming off rather insulting).

3. Don’t be long-winded. Unless your character is supposed to be a blowhard (or a Bond villain) keep dialogue short and to the point. Contractions, nicknames, abbreviations, people tend take just about any short cut they can use to cut down on the length of what they’re saying. Long monologues with a lot of unnecessary words comes off as unnatural.

4. Use punctuation properly. One of the biggest problems with written dialogue is that you just have the words, not the intonation/cadence you have in actual speech. “Why did you do that” can be said a million different ways, but how it’s read is dependent on your reader. Use commas properly to show small pauses, Periods to show full stops, and if you need to use italics (sparingly) to show emphasis (“Why did you do that?”) Don’t worry if using a period every once in a while ends up with a sentence fragment (re: people don’t speak in proper English). If something is an afterthought, a period might best suit the sentence. For example:

“I really want a dog or a cat.”

reads differently than:

“I really want a dog, or a cat.”

reads differently than:

“I really want a dog. Or a cat.”

4b. Don’t overuse punctuation. My old editor used to joke that every book she edited was only allowed five exclamation marks (well half-joked). Overusing punctuation can be just as bad as under-using it.

“I don’t know!” Works, the person is upset.

“I don’t know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Makes it look like either the character is crazy or (at least to me) like it should be on a preteen’s MySpace page (do people still use MySpace?)

Punctuation is a fine balance, don’t be afraid to use it, but don’t go crazy with it (and please, please, please, DoN’t WrItE LiKe ThIs to show someone is drunk. Yes, I have seen that in a manuscript before. It was quickly edited out for “he slurred” and actions which showed he was drunk).

If readers don’t find your dialogue meaningful, perhaps it’s time to rethink parts of your story. Getting rid of long descriptions is easy — go through the passage, pick out one or two telling details, and scrap the rest. Getting rid of inane dialogue is harder. You know that all the information you are giving your readers through your characters is important. The problem is, they don’t know that what they are reading is vital to the story. All they know is that they are bored.

Dialogue is not conversation; it is action and as such must propel the story forward. To keep your dialogue from hindering the action, from stopping the forward motion of your story, it must be in conflict or it must help define your characters, preferably both.

According to Sol Stein, author of Stein on Writing, you should examine every bit of dialogue. Ask yourself the following questions: What is the purpose of this exchange? Does it begin or heighten an existing conflict? Does it stimulate the readers’ curiosity? Does the exchange create tension? Does the dialogue build to a climax or a turn of events in the story or a change in the relationship of the speakers?

Once you have determined that the conversation is conflicted and does propel the story forward, you need to look at every line of the dialogue and ask yourself: Is it fresh, colorful? Is it the cleverest thing the character can say?

Writing is not life. In life, most of us cannot come up with that clever quip when we need it; it comes to mind (if at all) late at night when no one is around to be impressed. Your characters don’t have to suffer from that malady because they have you and your late night epiphanies on their side. You can change their words as often as necessary to get it right.

And get it right you must. Good dialogue makes a reader keep reading. Bad dialogue, no matter how crucial to the story, makes readers go in search of other amusements. Because, face it: to readers, our prose is not immortal, it is simply entertainment.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. All Bertram’s books are available both in print and in ebook format. You can get them online at Second Wind Publishing, Amazon, B&N and Smashwords.  At Smashwords, the books are available in all ebook formats including palm reading devices, and you can download the first 20-30% free!

PART ONE – CHARACTERS AND THEIR PROBLEMS

According to top New York literary agent Noah Lukeman (The Plot Thickens), if a writer can maintain suspense throughout the story, many readers will keep reading even if the characters are undeveloped and the plot is weak. Clearly, suspense is a vital tool, yet most books on writing only mention it in passing and few devote much space to its creation and development.

I’ve written 27 novels, and some of them have been rather successful, but Lukeman’s observation came as a revelation. Accordingly, I’ve scoured my writing notes for the past quarter century, and the books and articles I’ve read on storytelling, in order to compile a comprehensive list of ways to create suspense. Here it is. Sources and links are listed at the end.

STORY

At its simplest, a story consists of a character (the hero) who wants something badly, and an adversary (the obstacle) who is trying equally hard to prevent the hero from getting what he wants. In each scene, the hero attacks his problem in a new way, the adversary fights back and the hero either fails or his initial success leads to a bigger problem.

Readers read to lose themselves in the story and, hopefully, to become the hero through identification (see Jerry Cleaver’s excellent book, Immediate Fiction). But before readers can identify with a character, he has to reveal his true inner self. Character is revealed most clearly through adversity and conflict, when the hero is desperate and has to give everything he has. When he’s forced to the limit, the reader will identify strongly with the hero. The reader’s hope that the hero will succeed, and fear that he will fail, creates rising suspense until the climax, where the hero’s goal or problem is resolved.

Suspense comes from readers’ anticipation of what’s going to happen next. Therefore, never tell your readers anything in advance when, by withholding it, you can increase suspense.

Following Brown, I’ve grouped the suspense creation tools into these categories:

• The viewpoint characters;
• The problems these characters are facing;
• The plot of the story;
• The structure of the story.

For simplicity I refer to ‘the character’ or ‘the hero’, though many stories will have a number of viewpoint characters and more than one hero.

In Part One of this post I list ways to create suspense from the characters and their problems. Part Two will look at suspense creation from plot and structure.

A. CHARACTERS

For maximum suspense, you should not use any old character. Readers are only going to worry about, and identify with, characters they care about – ones who are both sympathetic and interesting.

1.    Sympathetic characters are (after Brown):

• In trouble, or suffering in some way;
• Underdogs. It’s difficult to empathise with a hero who is strong, powerful and has everything going for him, but everyone cheers when the underdog wins;
• Vulnerable, ie they can be killed, trapped, enslaved, destroyed politically or professionally, or ruined financially or socially. Vulnerability can come from the character’s own physical, mental or emotional shortcomings and conflicts as well as from the machinations of the adversary; and
• Deserving because of their positive character traits (optimism, courage, steadfastness, selflessness, compassion etc). A character can be in trouble, an underdog and vulnerable, but if he’s also lazy, selfish or a whining liar readers won’t identify with him or care what happens to him, and his troubles will create little suspense. This doesn’t mean the character can’t be a villain. If he’s acting for the best of reasons and the good outweighs the bad, readers will identify with him.

2.    Characters are likely to be interesting if (see Brown for a detailed analysis) they’re important, unusual or extraordinary. One reason we love to read about such characters is wish-fulfilment – living our lives through the story, feeling the characters’ hopes and fears, and being awed by their achievements. Characters may be more interesting if they’re:

• Powerful – because of noble birth, wealth, high office, rank or position, intelligence or strength;
• Naturally gifted or highly skilled at something important or useful;
• Unusual (in appearance, a rare ability or an amazing life experience), extraordinary, strange, eccentric or downright weird;
• Physically attractive, funny, dangerous or mysterious; or
• Surprising (they don’t fit the stereotype of their character type).

Your characters should also be as different as possible, since they will often be working together. Having highly contrasting characters maintains reader interest, multiplies the potential for conflict with the hero and will suggest many new subplot possibilities.

To build suspense through your characters:

3.    They must have goals.

• Common goals are: to survive, escape, win the contest or battle, become the leader, achieve their destiny, master the art, free the slaves or change the world;
• The moment your hero forms a goal, readers will hope she achieves it – and worry about what will happen if she doesn’t;
• Sometimes the goal (eg to survive or escape) will only appear after the character is confronted with the problem (being stalked by a killer, trapped in a bushfire).

4.    A strong hero needs a strong opponent. The opponent isn’t necessarily a villain. It can be a good person who strongly disagrees with the hero, a force of nature (flood, forest fire, epidemic), a beast or alien, or an uncaring society. But when it is a villain:

• He should be at least as strong as the hero, and preferably stronger. You can’t make a strong story when the hero’s opponent is weak;
• Evil villains are a cliché, and pure evil is both boring and predictable, so make your villain human. Reveal his admirable side, make his motivations clear, show why the bad things he does make perfect sense to him, and you’ll create a far more chilling antagonist;
• If the villain is largely in the background, strengthen him by revealing how much and why everyone fears him. Show his power growing via his victories, one after another;
• Give him advantages the hero lacks, fanatical supporters, and the power to lure away the hero’s allies.

5.    Tailor your characters to maximise suspense (for details, see Lukeman and the other refs):

• A cautious hero won’t go down the crumbling mine shaft, but an impulsive or reckless hero will plunge in. A coward won’t jump into the sea to rescue drowning passengers, a brave man will do so instinctively. If the hero has a phobia, such as a fear of rodents, send her into a ruin full of rats;
• Often the hero’s biggest limitation will be himself. Does he have the strength of will to confront the woman who betrayed him, or will he keep putting put it off? Is he plagued by self-doubt, or a cock-eyed optimist who believes things will come right in the end despite all evidence to the contrary?
• Does the hero have a destiny, eg to become the next lord, president of the company, or to be the catalyst for revolution? Is this destiny foretold in the story, or is it something he’s known since birth? Is it a positive destiny, an unbearable burden or a dark and dangerous threat? Will he achieve it, or fail? And either way, what are the consequences to him and to others?
• Create loose cannon characters. No one knows what they’ll do next and their unpredictability heightens suspense. Will the reformed drunk crack under pressure and start drinking again? Will the self-effacing heroine snap when pushed too far, and explode?

6.    Take away the hero’s ability to defend herself (or others) and you create intense suspense:

• She’s being stalked in the dark, but drops her only weapon and can’t find it; she’s injured and can’t escape her enemy; her foot is trapped in a crack and she can’t get it out; or she’s paralysed by terror or self-doubt;
• She sees her friend heading across the rotten bridge but is too far away to warn her; she rides to the rescue of an ally, knowing she’s going to arrive too late;
• He fails under pressure – he could save the day with a magic spell but forgets the words, or gets them wrong with disastrous consequences;
• His efforts are in vain – his son is suicidally depressed and he can’t get through to him;
• She believes that her fate (or a friend’s, or the country’s) is fixed by destiny and nothing can change it.

7.    Use rapidly changing emotions to build suspense. By showing the hero’s emotions changing rapidly in response to some threat or confrontation you can build suspense to a crescendo that will bring your readers to the edge of their seats, eg:

• Vague unease becomes fear becomes terror becomes shrieking hysteria;
• Irritation becomes annoyance becomes anger becomes murderous rage.

8.    Create anticipation and expectation.

• The more your hero dwells on or worries about some forthcoming event (good or bad) the more suspenseful it will be when the event is about to occur – a shy girl fretting about her wedding night; a young recruit marching to battle, sick with fear;
• Have the hero make a complicated plan and be rashly confident that it will succeed. This will worry your readers because they know it’s going to go wrong;
• Build up the hero’s anticipation (of winning the contest, gaining the prize, getting the girl) into expectation. Then, when he fails, the blow will be bitter. He hasn’t been beaten by the failure, but by his defeated expectation.

9.    Employ romantic and sexual tension. For variety or to further the plot, action-related suspense can be alternated with suspense arising from romantic or sexual tension between characters. Heighten suspense by:

• Creating barriers to the relationship – love between enemies, between a human and an alien, a lover with a dark past or terrible secret;
• Or by using obstacles to keep the lovers apart.

10.  Use micro-tension – the moment-by-moment tension that keeps readers in suspense over what’ll happen in the next minute. (See Don Maass’s terrific book The Fire in Fiction for details). Micro-tension comes from the ‘emotional friction’ between characters as they try to defeat each other. The characters aren’t necessarily enemies, though. There should be tension between any two characters, whether they are opponents, servants, friends, allies or lovers. There should also be tension within the character due to inner conflicts.

• In dialogue, show: the hero’s doubt or disbelief about what the other character is saying; the disagreement about goals or plans; the disdain, dislike, contempt or concealed hatred; the power struggles, and ego and personality clashes; bring out inner conflicts in what each character says and does;
• Often action can be lacking in tension because we’ve seen it a thousand times before – there are only so many ways two people can have a sword fight. To make action suspenseful, get inside the head of the hero to show his conflicting feelings and emotions during the struggle. Then, break the action cliché by showing subtle visual details that give the reader a clear and vivid picture of this particular scene rather than any generic action scene;
• Use similar techniques when writing sex or violence. Show the key moments with a handful of striking visual images. Bring out the hero’s conflicting feelings and emotions at each moment, focusing on subtle emotions rather than the obvious ones such as (in sex scenes) passion, lust or tenderness;
• When the character is thinking or emoting, create suspense by (a) cutting restated thoughts, feelings & emotions and (b) making thoughts and emotions realistic. For instance, the hero may be outwardly happy, but is concealing or fighting some niggling worry. Or struggling with an inner conflict (justice versus vengeance, duty to an bad leader vs personal honour);
• In descriptive passages and quiet moments, show little details that make the setting vividly real and establish the mood of the place. Describe the hero’s conflicting feelings and emotions, focusing on subtle emotions rather than obvious ones.

B. PROBLEM

The story begins when your character confronts a problem she has to solve, or forms a goal she’s determined to achieve. Problems can be of three kinds: a danger, a want or lack, or a puzzle or mystery. Dangers and lacks arouse suspense because the reader hopes the character will solve her problem, yet fears the consequences if she fails. Puzzles and mysteries create suspense through curiosity – the reader wants to know the answer.

11.  Put your characters (or their friends or allies) in danger (for details see the references, especially Brown, Lyon and Lukeman).

• Dangers can be: physical (a threat to life, health or vital functions such as eyesight, mobility or intellect); sexual (assault, pregnancy, disease); psychological (abuse, bullying, brainwashing); emotional; or moral (being led into crime, corruption or depravity);
• Dangers can also threaten: the character’s relationships (love, friendship, family, clan, group or society); her profession, trade, career or art; her property, possessions or prospects; her sanity; her freedom;
• Alternatively, your character could be a danger to others (he’s violent, a rapist, a psychopath or just reckless), or to himself (depressed, suicidal or reckless);
• Expose the hero to his darkest fear – if he’s claustrophobic, trap him in a lift or a dungeon. Alternatively, make the imaginary seem vividly real (eg someone who is paranoid or psychotic).

12.  Give your character a want or lack that she’s desperate to fulfil.

• To find love or romance, support or friendship;
• To escape from a blighted community or life;
• To master a skill, disciple or art, or realise a dream.

13.  Pose a mystery or puzzle. In some kinds of stories, particularly crime and mystery, suspense mainly comes from the puzzle the author has set, and readers’ curiosity about how the hero will solve it and what the answer is (see (26 and (27)).

14.  Force the hero to face the problem. Either:

• She has no choice because she can’t get away. She’s trapped in a locked building, slave camp, spacecraft or bureaucratic maze;
• She has a choice but walking away would violate her own moral or ethical code. Eg, she’s on the run but sees a child in danger and has to help, no matter the risk to herself;
• He has a choice but walking away would violate his professional duty to act – a munitions expert who has to defuse a bomb; a priest who must exorcise a demon;
• He initially refuses but is talked (or talks himself) into it.

15.  Raise the stakes.

• You can either raise the prize for succeeding, or raise the price of failure – or, preferably, both at the same time;
• These consequences can either apply to the hero, to people he cares for, or those he has a duty to (eg a doctor looking after a critically ill patient);
• Remember that both the prize and the price are relative – if the emperor wins or loses a skirmish it may be trivial, whereas winning or losing his first battle will change the life of a young lieutenant.

16.  Make the problem more difficult to solve.

• Increase the likelihood that the character will lose, then show what the specific personal consequences will be;
• Threats to the viewpoint character and his friends and family will arouse far more reader anxiety, and create more suspense, than problems facing people he doesn’t know, or people in another province or country.

17.  Shorten the deadline.

• Constantly remind your hero of the time limit;
• Then cut it in half;
• Slow down key scenes to heighten suspense. Show them in greater than normal detail to bring readers right into the moment.

18.  Break reader expectations.

• Readers are constantly guessing what’s going to happen next, based on stories they’ve read before, but if they know what’s going to happen, suspense dies;
• Analyse the hero’s problem and come up with unusual twists and reversals, new problems and difficult conflicts that will confound reader expectations of what’s going to happen.

The second part of this article deals with suspense from the viewpoints of plot and structure. (Next Week)

REFERENCES

Bell, James Scott (2004). Plot and Structure. Writer’s Digest. Probably the best book on the topic of plot and structure.

Bell, James Scott (2008). Revision and Self-Editing. Writer’s Digest. Also a great book; a wealth of practical info and examples.

John D Brown (2011). Key Conditions for Reader Suspense (27-part article). http://www.sfwa.org/2010/12/key-conditions-for-suspense/ An excellent series of articles.

Cleaver, Jerry (2002). Immediate Fiction. St Martin’s Griffin. No one has ever explained the craft of storytelling more clearly or simply.

Kress, Nancy (2005). Characters, Emotion and Viewpoint. Writer’s Digest. Excellent book on these topics.

Lukeman, Noah (2002). The Plot Thickens. St Martin’s Griffin, New York. Terrific chapters on characterisation, suspense and conflict, a lot of stuff I’ve never thought of before.

Lyon, Elizabeth (2008). Manuscript Makeover, Revision Techniques no Fiction Writer can Afford to Ignore. Perigee Trade. In my view, the best book on revision and self-editing.

Maass, Donald (2009). The Fire in Fiction. Writer’s Digest. He identifies the problems his agency sees over and over again in manuscripts and tells you how to fix them. A fantastic book.

Truby, John (2007). The Anatomy of Story – 22 Steps to Becoming a Master Storyteller. Faber and Faber. A fascinating and insightful book.

Vorhaus, John (1994). The Comic Toolbox. Silman James Press. Not just the best book on comic writing, but better than all the others put together.

About me: I’m an Australian marine scientist. I’ve also written 27 novels, including the internationally bestselling Three Worlds fantasy sequence, an eco-thriller trilogy about catastrophic climate change, Human Rites, and 12 books for children, most recently the Grim and Grimmer humorous adventure fantasy series.

My next epic fantasy novel is Vengeance, Book 1 of The Tainted Realm, to be published by Orbit Books in Australia in November 2011, and in the US and UK in April 2012.

For more on my books, including covers, blurbs, reviews and the first chapters of all of my novels and my 2 novellas, see my site.

To say Hi or get a quick answer to your questions, please pop over to my Facebook page.

For more on writing and publishing, see my blog.

For anyone writing a book that contains characters who are motivated by love they should consider joining Romance Writers of Australia. The organisation is run by smart, supportive women who generously give of their time and expertise to help aspiring writers. The competitions run by RWAustralia and other Romance Writing organisations have been stepping stones for many authors on their path to publication.

(This post was reposted with the permission of the Dark Side Downunder blog)

Check out the Dark Side Downunder Blog

Bec Skrabl

The first year that I entered the contest circuit was in 2009 for the 2010 season. I’d joined RWA the previous year but had missed all the comps because I joined too late and to be honest, I was still feeling my way amongst the organization.

It was about the same time that Michelle (de Rooy) and I became critique partners. Up until then, nobody had ever seen my work. I’d written for myself since I was a child, but I had no idea if it was good or bad. Michelle and I worked on that piece (a historical romance) for a few months and then I decided I needed more eyes on it. I hit every contest on the RWAustralia list bar the High Five, just because I had no idea what I was doing. It was a fantastic experience. The Selling Synopsis forced me to actually write a synopsis for the first time, the STALI and Valerie Parv Award drilled into me the importance of making those first few chapters stand out (or try to) and the Emerald made me realize, really, the entire book needs to be of the same quality as those first manicured chapters.

Then the feedback started trickling in. I find it really hard to actually gauge the level of my own writing, so it was nice to see a lot of the judges enjoyed my writing and said it showed potential. I knew the book had a controversial hero and I was expecting a fair bit of harsh critique, so I was pleasantly surprised by how much people enjoyed it. Yes, there was also the criticism I’d expected. Some of it was incredibly constructive and some of it was simply ouch.

I think that MS finalled in most of its categories. It came second in the STALI, fourth in the Valerie Parv and maybe fourth in the Selling Synopsis. The placings ultimately, weren’t as important as all of the lessons I learned. For the purposes with which I had entered (feedback and to learn) I found the contest circuit more than valuable. It was like having a whole heap of mini critique partners.

The following year, using that synopsis and my newly found skills, I found an agent. That novel never sold, thankfully. I say this now, because my passion for historical romance had faded and I was more interested in pursuing my paranormal/fantasy roots. I parted ways with my agent (for other reasons) and took a good hard look at my career and where I wanted to go with it.

I started The Devil of Whitechapel (now renamed Kiss of Steel) in October last year. It wasn’t the first time I’d ever started a paranormal – there’s dozens of half-finished pieces floating around under the bed – but it was the first time I finished one. I knew that book was better than my first attempt instantly. It practically wrote itself, and using all of the lessons I’d learned in the first year of contest entering made it a much better book than the first. This time my reasons for entering the contest circuit were a bit different. I wanted to gauge how readers liked the story as it was Steampunk and slightly different in genre to what a lot of people were reading, and I also decided I wanted to get this work in front of an editor if possible.

I began with the Australian contests. This time I entered only the Emerald and the Valerie Parv Award, and also the New Zealand Clendon. I was a little bit naughty with the Emerald, as I was only about halfway through the MS when I entered. I tend to be a bit disorganised, so I’d completely forgotten the dates of the finalists announcements. When they came through I had 20,000 words to write in a week in order to make the second round.

Thankfully I wasn’t the only one, as a certain Ms. De Rooy will attest. We pounded out word after word together, fuelled by caffeine and lack of sleep and managed to make the deadline. I sent it off, and only realized two days later that one of the scenes I thought I’d finished ended mid-scene, mid-sentence, because it was a difficult one to write and I’d told myself I’d get back to it later.

I do not recommend this route. At least not without a caffeine drip.

I also started entering American contests for the first time. I spent a lot of time considering the final judges. If it finalled, I wanted it to be in front of editors at houses that might be interested in my work.

My favourite contests were the Valley Forge Sheila and the Georgia Romance Writers Maggie, and not only because I placed first. The contest organisers were very professional and they were also really nice and friendly. The Sheila also got me what I wanted. Leah Hultenschmidt from Sourcebooks was the final judge and requested a full of my work. Two days after I sent it, she rang to offer for it.

I’d decided after the RWA conference to pull out of the other few contests I was already in because I didn’t think it was fair now that I was going to be published, but the Maggies co-ordinator convinced me not to when I finalled. It was something I’d never thought about before. Some of these awards carry a great deal of weight with industry professionals and book buyers. And I think now I might have gotten a slap on the wrist from my agent and editor if I’d withdrawn.

The two years I spent on the contest circuit were very different in terms of what I was after, but both brought home some valuable lessons. I can understand why some people get disheartened by them, as I too have had some ‘interesting’ feedback. I made a conscious decision early on to view each manuscript as a product, so if the criticism could improve it I took it on board, if not then I deleted the feedback and didn’t think about it again. It’s hard because sometimes it stings, but then I have Michelle to grouch to if I need to.

I can see how much I’ve grown in my work since I began and I think a lot of that does stem from the feedback I’ve been given, as well as Michelle’s advice as my CP. It’s been an interesting journey, with a lot of ups and downs, but personally, I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have a publishing contract without the contests I’ve entered. I encourage everyone to enter; for feedback, to develop a tough skin (because we’re all going to need that), to learn or to try and get your work before an editor.

  Michelle de Rooy

I joined RWA a few years ago when my sister told me about a writing conference she was going to. Did I want to go, too?

Writing conference? They have those?

Yep. I was THAT green. I had tried to get the story haunting me since I was 16 years old written down for many years, but could never get past the first chapter or two. I didn’t know why. I read heaps, I knew what I wanted to say (kind of), but I didn’t know how. How to get it from whirling around on my head, onto that page with that damned blinking, mocking cursor.

I was gob-smacked, awed and just plain wanted to sit down and cry at being in the same place as so many people who thought like me. They had people in their heads bugging them to write their story, too. It was a revelation. Literally. If I had known an organization like this existed before, I would’ve joined years ago.

Then, I found my new addiction. I entered my first contest right after conference that year. I entered the first five pages of my unfinished manuscript, a romantic suspense. I am a huge fan of Anne Stuart, and while listening to her speak, as well as her workshop, I was fan-struck. I had a kernel of an idea, and one scene that jumped up in my head and grew the three days I was at conference.

I came second last.

But what an eye-opener. The judges in that contest were so encouraging, so darn wonderful with their ideas and suggestions, that I read and reread their comments, rewrote what chapters I had, and entered it into the RWNZ’s Strictly Single contest.

I came second. With a request from the judge for a full (manuscript) – an editor at Berkley.

Oh, hell. I had three chapters. The three I’d entered. I’d made up the synopsis, had no idea if it would actually end that way, but hey, it had to end somehow, right?

Right.

Right about now, I know there a several of you reading this and shaking your heads at me. And I know exactly who you all are! Yep, this is where it started.

Meanwhile, I’d entered a new manuscript – the one I had banging around in my head for all those years – in the Emerald Award, just after I’d entered the Strictly Single. Three chapters, no synopsis required. Great! Because I had no idea where it went! I knew the final scene, but nothing in between. I had just about finished manuscript the requested by the editor judge, when I found out I’d finaled in the Emerald. I’d only entered to get some feedback on characters and the world, to see if I was heading in the right direction with my vision for my story.

O. M. G. I had five working days to get the final draft in to the contest coordinator for the second round.

Five days. Five?

I sat down and thought for about a minute, called my boss, asked for the two days that I worked that week off, and made up my mind. I might not get it finished, but I was going to give it a damned good try.

I got it to the post office on the final day I could post-mark it. It was done. Not complete, but I’d written The End. It was the best I could do.

At the same time I was writing these two manuscripts, I had another story rapping on the inside of my head. In particular, one character. A very unassuming young Japanese guy who was telling me he was in love with an older woman. His best friend’s mother, in fact.

I wrote half the book while expanding the one in the Emerald. I entered it in a US contest. I didn’t final, but got some fabulous feedback that encouraged me I was onto something.

At that point, I’d only been a member of RWA for a short while. I was entering contests to see if I had any chance at all of achieving my dream, of being an author. One that people wanted to read. I needed feedback, confirmation that what I was writing was worthy.

And once I started, I couldn’t stop entering. I was learning so much, so fast, I felt like a sponge. Then I stalled. I couldn’t seem to apply it to my own work.

That was when I met Bec Skrabl through the CP scheme. I’d come to a standstill writing-wise and needed some one-on-one help, so I joined up and waited. Nothing. So I forgot about it until I had a request. Luckily for me, she turned out to be the best thing to happen to me at a point I really needed focus. She sees the things I can’t. After working on my manuscript with her, I again entered the Strictly Single, The Emerald, The RWA Golden Heart, then the RWNZ The Clendon, and the Valerie Parv Award. I finaled in all bar the Golden Heart.

By this point I was starting to look at who was the final judge. I wanted to get in front of them, to see what they thought of my books. My focus had changed. I wasn’t just entering to get feedback anymore, I had reached a point where my work was consistently of a higher standard, and I wanted to win. Something, anything!

I wanted that call – the one where an agent or editor judge says they want to see more, please. I entered more and more the next year (which was this contest season), not just focusing on Australian and New Zealand comps anymore, and was totally stoked when I started consistently finaling, even overseas. It validated the time I’d spent away from my husband, my kids. The lack of sleep. The worry that people would think it was utter crap and would she PLEASE stop writing! Yes, we all think that at some point!

During this period, I received some horrible feedback from an editor judge up until then I had admired, if from afar. She’d placed me second in a big contest, but basically told me that it was pointless to continue with this manuscript, that “the author should scrap the project and begin something new and fresh. It is too flawed to be fixed.” Yes, these were her words, not mine. I have it in black and white on a little piece of paper in my office. And that was not all she said. The only thing she’d liked was my voice. I had a “spark to my writing; that something,” and that was why she’d placed me second.

I was gutted. Totally eviscerated. I stopped writing for four months. To be honest, if I had only just started writing and entering contests, it could easily have made me give up right there and then, the feedback was so negative.

It took time, and some wonderful friends who believe in me (thanks Bec, Kylie and Nicky!) who kicked me up the rear and made me realize what the best answer to that heartbreaking paragraph really is – get published. The day I sign a contract is the day I’m going to light myself a little pyre. That contest feedback is going center stage.

That manuscript? This year it came third in The Clendon, second in The Emerald, won me the Reader’s Choice Award in the Clendon, fourth in the US The Emily, third in the US Fire and Ice, and second in the Strictly Single and finaled into the second round of the US The Molly. And I just missed out on finaling in the US Golden Heart by the teeniest percentage.

It also almost got me my dream agent. As Maxwell Smart would say, “Missed it by that much!”

It’s been ‘round!

Basically what I’m trying to say there is that no matter what point you are at, there will be times when you question why the hell you are doing this. And you will come across someone(s) who will make you feel so very terrible and question whether everything you write is utter crap only suitable for burning. Don’t. Stick with it and look what can happen.

Contests are fabulous, but be certain of what you want out of them. And remember that they are subjective. I have almost finaled in so many contests this year with both this and another of my manuscripts; ones that average and don’t drop the lowest score. I tend to polarize judges. They either love it, or hate it. Usually I get two who love it, and one who fudges my chances at finaling. *shrug* That’s how it works, unfortunately.

Look at why you are entering, and enter the contests which give you the best chance of getting in front of that dream editor/agent or mentor; the ones that are going to do the most to further your career and skill. Take what you can from feedback, but if it doesn’t sit well, or suit your vision for your story, don’t change it. Use what you can, discard the rest. It takes a while to sort through all of it, and even longer to stop smarting from the nasty comments you can receive, and believe me, I’ve had them all. It’s not all moonlight and roses, Romeo!

But don’t forget the most important part while doing all this – have fun doing it!

Oh, and my little Japanese friend who fell for his best friend’s mother? He made another lady fall in love with him, as well. He won me the Valerie Parv Award. J

Cheers, and best of luck with your own journeys!

BIO: Bec Skrabl

(Since writing this post, Bec has won the Paranormal section of the Maggies, run by the Georgia Romance Writers)

Bec lives in a small town in country Victoria and grew up with her nose in a book. A member of RWA, RWA (Australia) and RWNZ, she writes sexy, dark paranormals and steampunk romance. Her latest manuscript, The Devil Of Whitechapel, has won the 2011 Sheila and Winter Rose contests.

When not writing, reading, or poring over travel brochures, she loves spending time with her very own hero or daydreaming about new worlds.

BIO: Michelle de Rooy

I write science fiction and fantasy. I spend far too much time day dreaming about my heroes; whether elf, human or hot starship pilot. And dreaming of ways my heroine can bring them to their knees!

A member of RWA, RWA (Oz) and RWNZ, I am a place-getter in the Australian Emerald Award, the New Zealand Clendon Award in which I also won the Reader’s Choice Award, and the Strictly Single.

Living in rural Queensland is fantastic fuel for the imagination, my husband and children dragging me away to provide the ‘me’ time in the real world.

Some would argue that having dialogue isn’t so important, as the popularity of Lolita attests (the entire book only contains one line of dialogue).*  As readers, Americans in particular expect a hearty amount of dialogue in a book; we’re a very gregarious, sharing people.  The question you have to pose to yourself when launching out into a new work is how much talking is necessary?  There have been books written made up almost entirely of dialogue, such as Raymond Queneau’s Zazie at the Metro or William Gaddis‘ JR.  Oppositely, there have been contemporary movies made with very little dialogue, such as 2001: A Space Odyssey, which features less than 400 words spoken (estimation).  As you can see, there’s no rule on how much dialogue to include or exclude.

Before I write some of my tips down, let me point out that you can’t break rules of literature because there are no rules.  The tips I offer are just that, tips.  If you have an artistic conception already locked away in your head, then throw my suggestions out the window.  If you’re in need of some aid though, please read the following.

Dos and Don’ts.

Do:

Use dialogue to create your characters.  Add nuances to their speaking style to designate what age they are, what their political views are, what their sexual orientation is, what music they like, what God they believe in, what books they read, how they feel about themselves, what they eat and so on.  For example, if your character’s an elderly woman, try and think of what phrases she used as a teenager; odds are, she still uses some of those phrases today.

Have characters be verbose when necessary and terse when not.  Sometimes having a conversation of punchy one-liners can be good, such as Hemingway when he’s at his best, and sometimes long paragraphs resembling monologues will develop your characters as in Dickens.

Go ahead and throw out many grammatical conventions when writing dialogue.  Most people don’t speak in full sentences, and it sounds silly when they do.  Also, people confuse things like when to use was instead of were, yet instead of but, then in place of than.  If people do it, let your characters do it too.

Use language in dialogue that outshines your prose.  People are capable of saying anything, while when writing prose you oftentimes have to put function first instead of form.  The mind, while gabbing, hardly knows the difference between the two, and interchanges them freely.

Use slang, lingo, laymen’s terms, idiosyncrasies, cliches, catch phrases, stock phrases, and polyglot.  Again, if people speak a certain way, allow your characters to do so too.  Don’t use too many cliches or stock phrases in your prose though; keep in mind you’re sitting around thinking, while most people talk right off the top of their head.

Dont:

Fill up pages and pages with uninteresting dialogue.  There’s no law or dictum saying the reader has to hear all of a conversation.  Use the French New-Wave jump-cut technique if you have to and simply jump right to where the conversation gets interesting and leave everything else on the cutting room floor.

Use the dialogue to advance the plot.  Dialogue is to build character, not necessarily build stories.  The plot can be put together in descriptive paragraphs between the dialogue or by the images you display.  Use the dialogue to show the characters’ reactions to their fate, but not discuss it in detail.  Don’t make your characters plan out their day while talking first thing in the morning.  Reserve dialogue for interesting things, not the mundane.  Also, remember it typically takes out the suspense if your characters talk on and on about what they’re going to do before they do it.

Have your characters say cool, witty things all of the time.  Sometimes everyone has to simply ask for someone to pass the mayo, or speak of the weather, or cry into a pillow, or be at a loss for words.  Witty, smart-aleck characters get old if they’re always flippant.

If you’d like examples of exciting dialogue, look at the following suggestions.

The Portrait of Dorian Gray: the character Henry Wotton speaks dozens of subversive bon mots throughout the novel.

Catch-22: The dialogue is laugh-out-loud funny, full of Marx Brothers’ puns and swift irony.

True Grit: (remake or original).  Uses a huge amount of colloquial and provincial language to good effect.

Ball of Fire: This Billy Wilder scripted film contains a wonderful amount of 1930s jive talk and slang.

Glengarry Glen Ross:  Epitomizing the tough, curt, dismissive style of speaking.  Fits in well with competing business men.

Peanuts:  It might seem odd to include the Charles Schultz comic, but glance over it again and notice how each character has different speaking manners, vocabularies, and idiosyncrasies.  This is a good example of doing more with less.

Krazy Kat:  This is another old comic strip that I recommend for an example of totally inventive, pun-filled dialogue.  Click here to read my post about Krazy Kat for my other site.

*Allan Robbe-Grillet’s Jealousy contains no dialogue either from what I can remember.

For help overcoming writer’s block, click here.

If you’d like to purchase my book The Madness of Art: Short Stories for your Kindle, iPad, iPhone, or home computer, click here.

If you’d like to purchase my book for your Nook, iPad, iPhone,  or home computer, click here.

It appears the term ‘beat’ has been applied by writers as a form of tag, only this tag drives the story forward with action or reveal character reaction.

A dialogue tag can be:

‘How dare you!’ she said.

It can also be:

She slammed the mug down on the table. ‘How dare you!’

In this case the action is the tag because it identifies the speaker and tells us how the character is feeling. And this is what people are calling ‘beats’. It is what I was told was an ‘action tag’ when I first started writing.

For a fuller explanation with an example see here where Marisa Wright talks about effective dialogue.  And here there’s Tara McClendon’s explanation of how to use beats to bring dialogue to life.

Here we have the redoubtable Richard’s thoughts on dialogue, from his 145 pages of writing tips.  He talks about keeping dialogue lively. And here from Judy Cullins are examples of how to spice up your dialogue.

Here is a free online workshop from Holly Lisle on writing dialogue. She says ‘Dialogue is about demonstrating character through conflict, either internal or external’. In this section on pacing, she talks about how to speed up dialogue and how to slow it down.

ROR has covered dialogue in the past in Convincing First Person Narrative and Primal Emotions.

Thanks to Rita for bringing this up. Using these kind of action dialogue tags is something we’ve all been doing but putting this post together has made me review the process and now I’m itching to get back to the clean up of The Outcast Chronicles and make sure I’m using all of my dialogue tags as effectively as possible!

I think most readers assume that stories or characters resonate with them because they are “realistic.” But I don’t think that’s true. I think we go for the “idealistic” — the stories or characters that remind us of something familiar, but add a more interesting layer.

Same goes for dialogue. If writers just transcribed real-life conversations for dialogue, readers would be 1) very confused, and 2) very bored. If you listen to how people actually talk, you hear so much “um” and “hmmm,” sprinkled in with incomplete sentences and half-thoughts. It happens with the most articulate people I know and I see it as endearingly human. After all, much of how we communicate in person is through body language and tone. To hell with grammar rules. As writers, though, all we have is words (and grammar rules).

When I write dialogue, I think of it as not being “realistic,” but as capturing what people would say in an ideal world, if their deepest thoughts translated perfectly (somehow) into what they verbalize. When readers say dialogue is “good,” I think they mean that it’s representative of an internal feeling, not that it sounds exactly like the conversations they hear on a routine basis.

A good friend sent this to me saying, “I thought you’d like this.” My friends know me well…

(Source)

(*First Person — I did this, I did that).

Deciding which Point of View (POV or VP) to use might sound like a no-brainer, but it can make a big difference to your book. Why do you think mysteries are often told in first person VP?

Because the reader only knows what that narrator knows, and this heightens tension as the mystery unfolds. So if you want to drip feed information, or even mislead the reader with an unreliable narrator you could use first person. (See here for an explanation of unreliable narrator).

Many children’s books are written from first person VP because it is so immediate and the reader can connect with the narrator. Another good reason for writing in first person. Deep point of view draws a reader in. (You can use third person but make it deep point of view by treating third person more like first person).

I like to use first person when the character is not human. The English language is very limited. Say you have an AI that is neither male nor female, but obviously intelligent, what gender do you use? I have come across books where the author invents a non-gender specific pronoun and uses it. But I find this jars each time I read the invented word. It feels mannered. (For a look at female writers of the 70s who challenged gender have a look at my KRK blog.)

So there are very good reasons for using first person narrative. Richard Harland has a section on Point of View in his writing tips, which covers the basics. He also has a section on conveying emotion here.

Trent says:

‘All my books are written in first person.

I think first person is all about voice. If the voice isn’t distinctive or important to the story you might as well write in a close third person. To get that voice you really need to know your character well, look at the world through their eyes, think about how they perceive things, what they feel, the lies they tell themselves. And you have to think about this in how they express themselves. What are they going to see when they walk in a room, what are they going to miss? Are they conceited or self loathing, do they think the world is against them, or they against the world.

Education, and vocab are important too. Do they have any verbal tics, that might be reflected in their thinking or, conversely or do they stammer, but their thought processes are clear. How do they think. There’s so many variables that you can consider. And you don’t need to consider them all, but you do need to be brave and make strong choices – it can even come down to repetition of phrases, or a certain rhythm in the way that character describes things like Holden Caulfield in Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye.

As far as great first person novels go I think the best, with multiple first person points of view, is William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying. Every voice is distinctive, and clear. It’s a book worth studying.

As is any short story in first person by Raymond Carver, Angela Carter, or John Cheever. “Reunion” by Cheever is amazing, and only a bit over a thousand words long. As is “Fat” by Raymond Carver. There’s plenty of more recent stuff, and a lot of spec fic with wonderful powerful first person narratives, but sometimes it’s good to look at the techniques of writers working out of the genre. And I reckon Margo is fabulous at creating distinctive 1st Person POVs.

‘The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time” by Mark Haddon is all about voice, a child with Aspergers, and what is heartbreaking are the things that he sees but doesn’t understand. The tone is measured, confused, but logical – he sees the pain in those around him, but can’t comprehend it. Oh and “To Kill a Mockingbird” is a marvellous evocation of voice too.’

And there are the authors who mix first person narrative with third person.  Lian Hearn did this in ‘Across the Nightingale Floor’. Dickens did it with Bleak House, Esther was told in first person. ‘Veniss Underground’ by Jeff Vandermeer uses first, second and third person narration.

Holly Lisle talks about using first person VP and how to handle time. After all, if you think about it, the narrator must be telling you what happened ‘after’ it has happened. She goes into great detail about how long in the past events have happened to the first person narrator. She says:

‘Time is an essential part of any story, but with stories told in the first person, it takes on unique characteristics as a gatekeeper of knowledge and the controller of suspense. If you’re writing in the first person, take the time to think about time.’

There are a of lot very useful writing tips on Holly’s page.

According to Tansy, if you’re looking for good examples of authors using first person narrative and making the narrative voice distinctive  look up Sarah Monette’s Melusine books, and Cherie Priest’s sub press novella Dreadful Skin.

Voice, first person, time and emotion. Have you read any first person narrative recently that impressed you?

This is the fun part of writing for me. Just getting the words down, seeing what the subconscious mind does with my plans, and going with it. I know how the book ends, and have even written the ending, but there’s still enough here to surprise. And it’s those surprises that make it so much fun. Don’t get me wrong I enjoy the rewriting and the crafting of sentences and scenes, but there’s nothing more fun than surprising yourself, feeling a scene just drag you along.

Now, I have a question.

I’m a writer that writes, fairly consistently, a thousand or so words a day – though if I don’t hit it, I don’t hit it and move on. But I also have the occasional daily bursts of up to about five thousand – usually I’m wrecked the next day though, so those five thousand words might mean I can’t stand the sight of my computer screen for a day or two.

Are you a slow and steady writer. Or a word burster? Or both?

Also, check out fellow ROR member Tansy Rayner Robert’s Blog. Her entry today on what it’s like to have a book on the verge of release is just brilliant.

I still contend that the decay within those aging vessels was stumped with the bitter residue of years of harboring resentment and disappointment. I, being the one that destroyed his once limber stature, now transmogrified into the limp hollow cavity that lay on the operating table. Extinct.

I was not there when he suffered his second stroke. His face became frozen in time, unable to move his lips; only his fingers were able to wave erratically at my mother’s back attempting to catch her attention. She was as usual hovering over the six oven gas burner immersed in one of her many succulent meals. It was his wheezing that finally caused her to turn around to face the indigo vessel that stared vacantly past her.

“It’s the cream of the asparagus, that will do me in,” my father used to tease her swallowing its thick paste down his throat, thoroughly enjoying the savory meal.

She used the butter of her old country of Copodocia, Turkey: thick with oils and laden with fat. It was the only way she knew how to prepare a meal and refused through her years of rearing to change her ways. We loved those meals before submitting to the consequences, that our bodies would pay the price: thighs protruding outwardly and bellies filled with satisfaction of a stuffed bird. A nice walk helped digest our meals and lengthy debates at the dinner table fueled our battles over little conspiracies of American media.

I was in bed that morning, hibernating through an unusual brutal winter that Virginia had been pummeled with, willowing in my own remorse of the past years events when I heard of his death. Mulling as I did time after time, just when it was I fell out of grace with my father.

Perhaps you are wondering why I put such emphasis on my role for his demise. After all, I am simply a participant of this world not equipped with the power of life or death. I am no God. To purport that I hold such mystical powers would be arrogant. It’s because I am a woman with a conscience, knowing fully well that I have strayed from the image he had of me. An image I had of myself: a woman of integrity and pride.

Though it is usually the mother that brings forth the adoration and swooning of a child, for me it was my father. I held him in high regard and he welcomed my desire to achieve a higher degree of learning. I admired his silence, often his thoughts hidden in a cocoon of intellect reserved for the few. I was among those he enjoyed conversing with, an astute student. Unlike my mother’s tendency to jab, or my younger brother’s consummation with trivial matters of girls and sex, I was his only hope. For me his silence was what made him majestic, speaking only when his lips imparted wisdom.

“Your father does not talk,” my mother would complain.

“I speak only when it is necessary”

It was rare that he spoke, allotting to be a witness to life’s idiocies and sitting back in humble admiration of how we-his children, learned through our own mistakes, the nature of humility. He was a man of strength, holding truth as his weapon. That was his downfall. Holding his own rigid definition of HIS interpretation of truth supreme: Suffering at the expense of your own desires.

When I lied to him about my marriage, it crushed him. It was not so much that I chose to leave my husband as it was that I had no apparent good reason, other than that I was not happy. The word “happy” was a wasteful adjective in his diverse vocabulary. It was an impotent word and held little use. To him, I had transgressed a moral code, tossing the sacred vow of marriage for inane reasoning.

It is true; I had no valid reasoning for taken a path unknown, having been suffocated by the frigidness of my own path carved with routine. I wanted to explore. Foolish to many, but a brief opportunity for an interlude that I felt I had to embark on. In the world of fantasy I had created, the poet in me emerging, I seized the opportunity to address my inner desires, not realizing I would be injuring those around me. Defaming.

It was no one’s fault. I took with my own timid palms the orchestra of life’s nuances and promises, knowing the ballad may not exist again once I returned to  the real world. I simply followed a heart that was beating for a transformation, knowing when reason took over it wouldn’t be like this anymore. That in the swiftness of time’s wings, I would be left alone, returning to the people ready to condemn my actions.

My father witnessed from a distance my instability unable to reach me with his dogma or the words I once admired. To me, he served as a dictator, and I saw him wrongly or rightly as one of the many impeding my progress. His slow, deliberate words were transformed in my head as ignorant and I turned away from them.

He turned away from me, feigning his belief system was far superior to mine. I watched amazed that this learned man took the role of a tribal leader, regressing to his Mediterranean roots, expelling me from my family circle. Pride reigned supreme.
Pride’s wicked hand dispersed the oceans that separated father from daughter, leaving me drowning on my own. Though a life vest of sorts was thrown to me, I found it to be filled with holes of ultimatums. Having reached for his way of saving me, would have lead to an ultimate death.

Though I have tried to reason. Though I have tried to beg, an invisible circle was circumvented keeping me at a distance. Watching as he bid me farewell. I am not sure how it is a father or a mother can simply defy their own blood simply for having taken a path that is not their own. How is it that man is now God on earth, imparting rules and punishments as they see fit?

There is a lot I don’t know, or pretend to know. But I know that my father’s grace and his blessing meant the world to me. He died that morning and I was unable to bid him farewell, a throng of self-righteous gatherers, not granting me direct access to him. I know had he not turned so cold, so attached to tradition, he would have seen me as his daughter once again. A woman simply confused and pulled by the power of love of life. To have known his body lay cold without my last touch is to have died along with him.

Over at the Mad Genius Club-Writers’ Division, I did a post the other week about favourite movies and everyone started quoting The Princess Bride.

Not only is is fun and cool, with terrifically quirky characters, but the dialogue is so good, people can quote it from memory. That is an achievement, any writer would envy. It has even crept into the everyday. If I ask my husband to take out the rubbish, he says ‘As you wish.’

What made The Princess Bride so memorable, apart from all of the above?

Well, as Fezzik the Giant and Inigo Montoya tell the Miracle Man, he must help them because Westley is motivated by ‘True Love’. A primal emotion.

What drove Inigo to train with the sword every day from the age of 11? Revenge. He had to avenge his father’s murder. A primal emotion.

What makes a book or movie memorable its ability to reach into us and make an emotional connection. What do we all share? Primal emotions.

There’s a little caveman (or woman) in all of us.

As a writer, if you can tap into that primal emotion, you will connect with your readers. That is why Romance is the biggest selling genre, outselling all other popular fiction fiction paperback genres combined. (Quoting from Romance Writers of Australia).

For The Princess Bride fans here is one of my favourite scenes and possibly the best revenge scene ever written.

Memorable quotes from The Princess Bride

Inigo Montoya: Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

[Inigo advances on Rugen, but stumbles into the table with sudden pain. Rugen attacks, but Inigo parries and rises to his feet again]

Inigo Montoya: Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

[Rugen attacks again, Inigo parries more fiercely, gaining strength]

Inigo Montoya: Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father! Prepare to die!

Count Rugen: Stop saying that!

[Rugen attacks, twice. Inigo avoids and wounds Rugen in both shoulders, the same spots where he wounded Inigo. Inigo attacks, bellowing:]

Inigo Montoya: HELLO! MY NAME IS INIGO MONTOYA! YOU KILLED MY FATHER! PREPARE TO DIE!

[Inigo corners Count Rugen, knocks his sword aside, and slashes his cheek, giving him a scar just like Inigo's]

Inigo Montoya: Offer me money.

Count Rugen: Yes!

Inigo Montoya: Power, too, promise me that.

[He slashes his other cheek]

Count Rugen: All that I have and more. Please…

Inigo Montoya: Offer me anything I ask for.

Count Rugen: Anything you want…

[Rugen knocks Inigo's sword aside and lunges. But Inigo traps his arm and aims his sword at Rugen's stomach]

Inigo Montoya: I want my father back, you son of a bitch!

[He runs Count Rugen through and shoves him back against the table. Rugen falls to the floor, dead]

Whew. I feel better just having read that. And I’m a pacificist!

Okay, what scene from books or movies have been so memorable, that you can still recall them today and maybe quote a line or two?

The Rebel Angels is set at a university, and it’s hard to describe the main thrust of the plot, because there are a number of things going on.  Student Maria Theotoky is trying to come to terms with her Gypsy heritage; her supervising professor and erstwhile lover Hollier is executing the will of a recently deceased colleague, along with fellow professor and priest Darcourt, and an unpleasant insinuating fellow called Urquhart McVarish like the guy (Urquhart anyway) in Strong Poison.  Hollier’s old decadent friend Parlabane, recently escaped from being a priest and intent on pestering Maria as much as possible, is also floating around making trouble.

Oh, and Hollier compliments Oscar Wilde, making it impossible for me to think ill of him.  He said a kinder and more generous person never walked in shoe leather – yes, I remember it his exact words, because it’s perfectly true of course! and because I am like Oscar Wilde’s Jewish mama and every time someone gives him a compliment I want to post it on a big sign and have a plane fly around with the message out in back.  You know how they do.

Reading the end didn’t make any difference to the rest of the book, which just goes to show it’s not terribly plot-driven.  Ordinarily I do not love a book as chatty as this one, but it held my interest anyway, which I feel like goes to show something but I don’t know what.  I was pleased that McVarish (spoilers!) was going to come to a sticky end.  I wanted him to come to a sticky end.  Actually I liked the way things wrapped up, because things were sort of done after that.  I felt.  In terms of that nobody had to keep worrying about Maria, and she had her manuscript to study and she could produce an important work.  Hooray.

I should read Rabelais.  I hear (not just from this book, from other places too) that he is a riot.

Other views: Jackie at Farm Lane Books, Orpheus Sings the Guitar Electric

Tell me if I missed yours!

I know she’s better than this.  Ms. Picoult is an excellent writer.  She does good dialogue, her characters are generally consistent, the little kids are really good little kids.  In each case where I have begun reading a book of hers, I have stayed up way past my bedtime finishing it.  (In the case of Vanishing Acts, I was already up thoroughly late because I was introducing my friend Teacher to Firefly and I didn’t want to let her leave until she totally liked it and had stopped saying snide things about Kaylee.  Victory!)  So I will not suggest that she is a bad writer, at all.

Here’s the thing.  Sister loves her some dramatic irony.  And, um, also just some irony.  Also just some drama.  She is much with the drama and the irony and the dramatic irony.  It detracts from her books.  I mean, I didn’t even think it was possible to use the adjective “silly” to describe a book all about child sex abuse, but I can’t use any other adjective to describe Perfect Match.  I don’t even know where to begin spoiling it.  I mean, there’s the part where Nina shoots the priest in court and then acts crazy; there’s the part where it turns out that not he but a similarly-named priest from Loosiana (of course) who happens to be the dead priest’s half-brother who donated bone marrow to him to cure him of leukemia.  I mean, because why not?  And then there’s the part where the husband, who’s spent the whole book being all judgey-judge, secretly flies down to Loosiana and poisons the real perpetrator with antifreeze.  Oh, and the requisite guy in love with the female protagonist, hovering sadly in the wings.

It’s a shame, you know?  I feel like Jodi Picoult could write much better books than she is actually writing – though I suppose she’s feeling if it’s not broke don’t fix it.  (That expression never fails to make me think of that moment in the Disney Beauty and the Beast where Cogsworth and Lumiere are showing Belle around the castle and he’s talking about the baroque tapestries and he says “And as I always saaaay, if it’s not baroque – don’t fix it!”  Anyone else?  Anyone?)  It’s not the writing, it’s the plots.  She can’t resist high drama, and she can’t resist crazy plot twists, and it detracts from her books.  Making them into guilty pleasure type books, when I really think they could be a lot more.

Which of course isn’t stopping me from being on my massive Jodi Picoult kick, so I’m just off to read Nineteen Minutes now.  I am sure I will feel much the same about that one.

This is a book about a girl in 1920s New Orleans who dies prematurely, before anything about her life gets properly decided, particularly before she makes a decision about her boyfriend Andrew, a fact that proves troublesome to her after she dies.  She is called Razi, and she haunts a Baton Rouge couple, Amy and Scott, who are dealing with the fallout from a loss of their own.  The story flips back and forth between their story and Razi’s life as a – for lack of a better word – ghost, over the years, and Razi’s life when she was properly alive.  She is a really excellent character.  When she is alive she says to her Andrew, “One lifetime isn’t enough to make all the trouble of which I am capable.”

I really love the main character’s name – it’s Raziela, the meaning of which I’ve seen alternately given as God’s secret and My secret is God, both of which are wonderful.  I like My secret is God particularly, to be honest.  My secret is God.  That is a good sentence.  I will have to find a use for that sentence.

The Mercy of Thin Air was good.  I like books about people successfully coming to terms with things that have been problematic to them.  This was melancholy in bits and joyful in bits and with good characters and good dialogue and I just liked it a lot.  Plus, you know, sister’s from the home state and her characters are always going to places that I have been, in Baton Rouge and in New Orleans.  Hooray for Louisiana!  We have good food!  We have streetcars!  If anywhere in this country was going to have ghosts, it would be us!  Up with Louisiana!

Just reread these two.  I also recently reread Xenocide and Speaker for the Dead and Children of the Mind, and I guess it’s because I most recently read Children of the Mind that I felt like I never wanted to read anything by Orson Scott Card ever again as long as I lived and even if I died and dead people brought me books in the graveyard and the only book I had at all was Speaker for the Dead still even then I would reject it totally and just lie all dead and read nothing whatsoever.

Yeah, that was weird.  But the feeling passed, and I reread Ender’s Shadow first and then Ender’s Game.  And I was really struck by how much more I liked Ender’s Game than a) I remembered and b) Ender’s Shadow.  Really.  It’s a pretty good book.

However, reading all this Orson Scott Card has made me realize how dreadfully smug and self-righteous everybody is.  They really are.  All the characters are, they all are, not a single one of them isn’t.  They just all think they’re totally right and they say many smug and self-righteous things in defense of their positions.  I thought that the reason I didn’t ever want to read OSC again was that I had just overdosed on his books, but I think now it was overdosing on smugness and self-righteousness.

Which is funny because those are two qualities I possess in spades.

This isn’t much of a review.  I’ll go again.

Basically, the humans are under attack by these aliens they call buggers (or formics sometimes), and the most brilliant children of all the children are being recruited to learn to be commanders so that they can fight the buggers off, and the most brilliant child of all the children is Ender.  (Except in Ender’s Shadow it turns out that the most brilliant child of all the children is actually its protagonist, Bean.)  And because Ender is so brilliant, they are grooming him to command the entire space army that will destroy the buggers, and his life’s really unhappy in learning-to-defeat-aliens school.

It’s good.  I don’t mean to put anyone off by saying that all the characters are smug.  They’re still fun to read about, because you know, a lot of times you have a good idea but when people say snide things about it, you can’t immediately think of the clever thing to say to prove what a good idea your idea is; but the characters in these books?  They can always think of the clever thing to say to prove what good ideas their ideas are.

The Color Purple. Wow.

When I was young, my mother had told me once that The Color Purple was one of her favorite books of all time, and I remember her telling me her favorite line (“White folks is a miracle of affliction”), and in early middle school I asked her where her copy was because I wanted to read it. And that’s the only time in my entire life I can remember my mother telling me not to read a book. She said wait a few years and I’d like it better. When I finally did read it (and oh my God, it blew me away), I assumed that she had been trying to steer me clear of it because of the fairly extensive sexual and violent content, but I asked her and she said no, she just thought I’d like it better if I waited a few years. She said that giving it to an eleven-year-old to read would be like giving To Kill a Mockingbird to a precocious kid of eight – the kid might be able to read all the words, but s/he’d be missing out on all the richness that’s there. She said you only get to read a book for the first time once, and there are some books that you just really deserve to have the best first-reading experience possible.

I totally agree with that.  And this is a damn good book.  It’s one of those books that everyone should read.  Everyone in the whole world.  In fact I’m just off to ship a few hundred copies off to world leaders.  Do ‘em good.

P.S. Although they are both Important Black American Women writers, I am forced to read Toni Morrison much more often than I am forced to read Alice Walker.  In fact I have never had to read Alice Walker, except for one short story once, whereas I have had to deal with Toni Morrison kind of a lot.  And you know what, you know what?  I.  Don’t.  Like.  Her.  Beloved makes me feel queasy.  The Color Purple is a much better book and everyone should just, just, just revise their damn syllabuses.

This was good.  Ms. de los Santos writes most truthfully about relationships.  The little girl was very interesting and intense.

I’d write more but I’m too busy trying to get school things done so that I can watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer later.

Carlos was a minor character in the story [I was writing], a juvenile delinquent with a terminal illness. Although I had given Carlos tattoos and a bald head, he failed to impress my editor. She thought he needed a personality. And “please please please,” she urged in one of her notes, “give him a different name.”

Los Angeles is the youth gang capital of the world, so I figured Duane must have had to write about them at some point. I asked if he could recommend any good books about juvenile delinquents that I could use for research. He thought about it, then answering, “Not really.”

I figured that was the end of that, but then he said, “But I volunteer down at juvenile hall twice a week. I teach a writing class there. If you’d like to come down and visit sometime, the guys could tell you more than any book.”

I didn’t respond immediately. I wanted him to think I was giving it serious thought. Then I asked, “Are you sure you can’t recommend any books?”

Recommended by: A Striped Armchair

The Man sucks.

Also this book was good. I drove around for a while trying to remember which library branch had it, and then I finally remembered and checked it out, and then I read it straight through. It’s a memoir of Mark Salzman’s time teaching a creative writing class at a juvenile detention center in Los Angeles. I wouldn’t say that this is the best-written memoir I’ve ever read in my life, but it’s not badly written by any means, and Mr. Salzman writes with great sincerity. Which, actually, is probably more important than writing like a dream, when you’re dealing with something about which people have some really firmly ingrained preconceptions.

What Mr. Salzman is quite successful at (shades of John Berendt (who is a better writer, I think)) is reproducing dialogue. (Mozilla, you had better stop underlining words that I am spelling correctly! Dialogue! Dialogue! Dialogue! I hate you.) I mean, reproducing dialogue in such a way that the reader gets a sense of what the speaker is like. And good on Mr. Salzman, because not a lot of people can do that, particularly in nonfiction, where very often everyone sounds like they are different-faced versions of the same person.

(Sidebar: Yay for John Berendt, seriously. How well did he reproduce the Lady Chablis? So, so, so well.)

Okay, now I’m having regrets. I’m feeling a little guilty about saying that True Notebooks wasn’t well-written. It wasn’t badly written, at all; it was just a trifle, a hair, a speck generically written. Which is okay! Because of how well he did the dialogue! It’s just that if it hadn’t been for the dialogue, you would have had a book on an interesting subject that was not ultimately a very interesting book, because although it was very funny in spots it was a trifle (a hair, a speck) generic. A trifle! Except for the dialogue which made everything okay, I swear it did, and I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it!

(MOZILLA STOP UNDERLINING “DIALOGUE” IN RED! THAT IS HOW THE WORD IS SPELLED!)

This review has been the cause of a great deal of emotional turmoil – more, to be honest, than I was expecting – so I’m going to stop.

Recommended by: Box of Books (whom I owe an apology)

I am sorry for griping abut The Semi-Attached Couple and its unbitchy nature.  Emily Eden is very amusing, and in many ways she is quite like Jane Austen but bitchier.  So I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions even though Helen in The Semi-Attached Couple was very annoying.  Now I have just finished The Semi-Detached House, and it was completely charming.  Everyone in it was so endearing, and they had such pleasant conversations, and everything worked out so neatly, although frankly I was hoping that a certain person and another certain person wouldn’t get engaged, and I thought briefly that Emily Eden was going to dare to leave one of the women single.  But she didn’t.  Oh well.

Here is what the sweet old mother says that made me laugh while I was waiting in line at the post office to send an envelope that will Decide My Future:

Lord Chester and Doctor Ayscough said such clever things about poisons; I thought I would remember them for fear of accidents; but I am not quite certain whether I have not forgotten part.  However, I know it is not wholesome to take strychnine in any great quantity, so mind that, girls; arsenic, which is very apt to get into puddings and gruel, should be avoided, and you should take something after it, if you do swallow any – but I forget what.  It was really very interesting, and I like a good murder that can’t be found out; that is, of course, it is very shocking, but I like to hear about it.

Awww.  She’s cute.  Whenever anyone says “shocking” now, I think of that adorable BBC adaptation of Northanger Abbey (which has already come on Masterpiece Theatre, so you’ve missed it if you didn’t see it) and adorable Felicity Whatsit who plays Catherine, with her big wide eyes and Isabella telling her “It is the most shocking and horrid thing in all the world!”  Oh, and also, the sweet old mother has two daughters, and one time they are talking to a girl who is in some difficulties, and

They were induced to adopt their usual resource, and to call to mamma to come and satisfy the disastrous state of Miss Monteneros’s existence.

Story of my LIFE.  And here is a description of a boat called an outrigger which I don’t know what that is, but the description sounds exactly like my views of kayaks:

It may be necessary to explain that [it is] an apology for a boat, and, apparently, a feeble imitation of a plank – that the individual who hazards his own life in it is happily prevented, by its absurd form, from making any other person a sharer in his danger – that he is liable to be overset by any passing steamer, or by the slightest change of his own posture – that it is difficult to conceive how he ever got into such a thing, or how he is ever to get out of it again, and that the effect he produces on an unprejudiced spectator is that of an aquatic mouse caught in a boat-trap, from which he will never emerge alive, notwithstanding the continual struggle he appears to keep up.

For a while I was convinced that this book had to be in translation. It just had these weird bits that you get when you are reading books in translation, and the author’s name is unusual and might quite easily have been foreign; and anyway I was all set to write this review and say I hate reading books in translation.

Which is absolutely true, and probably the reason I have never got on well with Gabriel Garcia Marquez or any Russian writers ever (not counting Nabokov who wrote in English and I claim him as an American writer).

Instead I guess I have to say that Little Boy Lost just baffled me. It’s about an Englishman called Hilary whose Polish wife Lisa died at the hands of the Nazis, and whose son, who was with Lisa until shortly before the Gestapo got her, is missing. And might be dead. Or might not. During the war, Lisa’s friend’s husband Pierre is in France trying to find the kid, and at the end of the war Hilary comes to France to check how it’s going and go meet the only kid it could possibly be. And it’s very weird because one moment he’s all in total agony about everything, and the next moment he’s like, Whatevs, glad you’re handling that tracking-the-kid-down thing, and just let me know what you find out. Or one moment he’s bitter and miserable and thinks that finding his son is his only chance for happiness, and then two pages later it’ll be this:

He added with a kind of delight, “It’s a splendidly romantic place to begin a search from.”

And okay, officially I can excuse this in a lot of different ways. Like: Losing a kid is very baffling, and a lot of time has gone by, and he doesn’t know what to feel. Or: You can’t be in total agony all the time and you might as well take pleasure where you can like in how romantic a place is.

But I’m sorry. He sounds like Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane having fun tracking down the murderer in Have His Carcase, which is officially Very Serious Business but is not infrequently just an excuse for them to enjoy themselves and be silly and humorously appreciate the drama of the situation. And that’s what Hilary sounds like he’s doing here, although actually he’s looking for his kid. He carries on being silly for another minute or two and then back he goes into misery, without seeming to notice that his mood changed at all.

(Sidebar: Audrey Niffenegger says that Henry and Clare were based on Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane. I just can hardly imagine two people less like Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane, which I’m sure is partly due to the characters’ developing a great deal during the writing process but is also indicative of how amazingly differently people read. John Tregarth and Peter Wimsey is a fair enough connection, but Henry DeTamble and Peter Wimsey, I can’t see it.)

What was good – excellent, actually – about this book were the interactions between Hilary and the little orphanage boy who might or might not be his son. These bits of the book were tense and interesting and moving, and if they hadn’t been there I would have gone straight to the end, discovered what was going to happen, and chucked the book down without finishing it, because the rest of the bits (mostly) were not interesting at all. I think this is because Hilary never really settles into a clear character and that made it difficult to care much what happened to him. Jean, the little boy, is a real boy, and that, I believe, is why the bits with him come off gorgeously.

SPOILER

BIG ONE

The other thing I didn’t like was that Hilary decides at the end that he can love this boy as a son even though he isn’t sure it’s his son, and then when he’s going back to the orphanage to fetch him, Jean says something that makes it entirely clear he’s the right kid. I think ambiguity would have been better, to have Jean say something that suggests he’s remembering something about his life before the orphanage that indicates he’s Hilary’s son, but still leave the reader in some doubt.

Nonetheless I enjoyed Little Boy Lost, and I can easily see picking it up again sometime. At the library. I wouldn’t buy it, unless, I suppose, I had a massive library and lots of money to buy books just on the strength of feeling that I might possibly someday want to read them again maybe.