Countdown to readers’ favorites posts of 2020!

 What – 2020 is almost over? It’s hard to believe, but there were some good things this year, so in these final days, I’m rerunning the top 10 readers’ favorite posts, starting with numbers 9 and 10:   

 Show, don’t tell – unless you must!

 

Do you believe in coincidences? Nah, me neither. Sure, oddball things can happen. But the same oddball thing? Over and over? Sure, when (according to legend) an apple fell on Ike Newton’s head, he might have thought, ouch, imagine that. Until he remembered that he’d seen (and probably felt) apples falling year after year, from tree after tree, and figured there had to be a reason for such repeated phenomena.

 

Writers being as fixated on such oddities as scientists or conspiracy theory hawkers, when I saw the issue of “show vs. tell” twice in the past month, from different writers in two separate writing critique groups, I didn’t laugh it off as coincidence. But unlike Newton, instead of pulling out what mathematics I remember from school to address the issue, I turned to notes from author Lori Freeland’s presentation about show vs. tell at a pre-pandemic meeting of the Writers Guild of Texas earlier this year.

 

At this point, I know some readers are wondering, what the heck does “show vs. tell” mean? It’s all words, after all, isn’t it? I hope one of Freeland’s favorite quotes from master storyteller (ooh – should be a better word), Anton Chekov will make things clearer: “Don’t tell me the moon is shining. Show me the glint of light on broken glass.”

 

“Actions (that glinting light) speak louder than words,” Freeland told her audience. “So, if you want the reader’s attention, show!”

 

However, there is a caution, which is, sometimes you just need to get something out fast, without, frankly, catching a reader’s attention with it. But how do you know when to show and when to tell?

Image: Pixabay

 

In “telling,” we writers put on our journalist’s hats, reporting and summarizing information. We can also “tell” when we need/want to let readers know how they should feel.

 

In contrast, when we “show” we put on our artist’s berets to paint word pictures that convey sensory and emotional information. In other words, when we don’t want to tell readers how to feel something, instead allowing them to feel it along with our characters.

 

“If you’re saying an emotion word,” Freeland said, “you’re telling.”

 

In other words: She was angry vs. Her fists clenched; her eyes narrowed. See the picture? Feel the picture?

 

However, this doesn’t mean that “telling” is necessarily lazy writing. If used well, it can:

 

·       Summarize

·       Increase the pace of the story

·       Minimize the mundane

·       Keep down word count

 

Don’t, Freeland warned, make something mundane seem overly important by describing it. And if you find yourself needing to keep the word count of your tale under, say 300,000, look for those mundane parts and tell, tell, tell!

 

However, when something in a story is a really big deal, the writer must use her “show” hat. And when he wants to evoke an emotion? Show it! (Freeland is a romance writer, so showing emotion is a really, really, REALLY big deal for her.)

 

Somewhat contradictorily, Freeland also noted that showing doesn’t always take more space on the page than telling, nor does it always slow down the pace of the story.

 

The major issue in deciding whether to show vs. tell is whether what is happening in the story is important or not. Don’t make something mundane overly important by describing it. However, if what’s happening in the story is a big deal, it must be shown.

 

If writers are undecided, Freeland suggests writing a brief summary of what needs to happen in a scene, marking what’s important, and then making a point of showing at those marked places.

 

“If you want something to be a big deal to the reader, make sure it’s a big deal to your character.”

 

OK, now we’re excited about showing, but how to do it?

 

Freeland’s tip: avoid using emotion words. No angry, sad, glad, excited, sorry, blah, blah, blah. Instead, use:

·       Sensory words

·       Descriptions

·       Actions

·       Internal thought (but only for the point of view character)

·       Internal body reactions (sometimes called visceral reactions, these are always involuntary)

·       Similes and metaphors

·       Subtext

 

Subtext? It’s one of those things like “voice” that writers talk about but never seem to pin down. It’s the implicit, unstated meaning lying beneath the written text, as when a character states that she feels perfectly fine when we as readers know she’s miserable. Or when a Hemingway character notices the fat hardening on a strip of bacon while his mother is trying to discuss her concerns about him. Hmmm.

 

“Sometimes it’s more powerful to show what doesn’t happen,” Freeland said. “Subtext evokes emotion and emotion keeps your readers involved.”

 

I’m sorry I can’t share Freeland’s entire presentation with my own readers, including her illustrative exercises. But workshops are some of what she does for a living (she has a separate one on subtext) so why not ask your critique group to host her. Virtually speaking.

***

 

Thrillerfest bites: plotting, villains, research & more 

Here I am, about to wrap up my first-ever Thrillerfest, which I could only afford because like so many events this year it was online. My ticket entitled me to videos of 58 internationally known thriller writers who would normally have gathered for their annual conference in New York. I’ve watched fewer than a dozen because I can’t sit still more than an hour or two before my dogs demand to be let out (and back into the fortunately air-conditioned house because Texas is damned hot in July). Still, it seemed unfair to make readers wait until I’ve seen everything – which will be online until next year – before sharing, including that there’s more than one way, maybe more than a dozen, to become a famous author in my favorite genre. 

To plot or not 

“I start out with a couple of topics, items of interest to me,” said writer of the Joe Pickett Wyoming game warden series, C.J. Box, “then usually an idea or two from the wider world.” At this point, although some of his books are unplanned, Box typically begins an outline, which can run up to 40 pages, and which after 20 Joe Pickett books can be helpful in keeping track of characters and events. 

“Does anything ever blow up the outline,” interviewer Ryan Steck asked. “Totally!” Box said. “Sometimes something happen in the middle. Sometimes it’s just throwing a curve.” 

“I create a lot of outlines,” said Dan Brown, author of the Da Vinci Code among other thrillers featuring the professorial Robert Langdon. “I usually write the last scene first so that I know where I’m going – though it will probably change.” 

“I like to set the story evolve organically,” Sandra Brown said. “The first draft is the rough one. The next draft is the crafting one, making sure I’ve milked everything I can out of every scene.” 

Diana Gabaldon also famously writes outline-free, having started her first book, Outlander, with a single image – “a man in a kilt” – from an episode of Doctor Who set in 18^th century Scotland. After writing for about three days, she “came upon an Englishwoman (character) who wouldn’t shut up,” and incorporated the story’s time travel element (again, probably thanks to the good Doctor). 

On the other hand, for lawyer turned author John Grisham. “Everything starts with a plot. . . I don’t think I’ve started with a character. I know the last scene before I write the first page.” 

“I always have a grand plan,” thriller/historical writer Ken Follett said. His special take on plotting/outlining is – making lists. “I do that all the time. It’s great because it gives me a perspective I wouldn’t have if I just wrote sentence by sentence.” 

And then there’s the unique take of Kathy Reichs, author of the Temperance Brennan “Bones” series for adults as well as the Virals young adult series co-written with her son Brendan Reichs. “I don’t do a lot of outlines,” Reichs said, “(but) my son is a fanatic about it! I outline maybe six to seven chapters and then write the rest.” Her twist is to outline retroactively, to remember where to find something she wrote earlier. “So, I end up with an outline, even I didn’t start with one.” 

Oddball characters 

C. J. Box’s first agent (in New York) told him he couldn’t sell his book because “who wants to read about a game warden in some place nobody’s ever heard of?” Box deliberately set out to make Pickett “a state employee, a Dudley Do-right, who doesn’t make much money and dotes on his wife and family. Wouldn’t that be unusual? . . .I’m proud to say 51 percent of my readers are women. I think it’s the family relationships between Joe’s wife and daughters.” 

If a game warden seems like a strange protagonist for a thriller, how about a college professor like Dan Brown’s Robert Langdon? In Brown’s case, it was a case of writing what he knew, he said. Having grown up in an academic environment, why not have an art history professor as the hero – although he admits Langdon’s specialty of “symbology” is completely fictional. 

Villains 

“It’s all about point of view,” Box said. “Once we know what drives (villains), even it’s despicable reasons, readers can understand them.” 

The attraction of villains, for Dan Brown is, “the ambiguity, that is, a villain who does the wrong things for the right reasons. . . (and) finding an argument I can argue from both sides.”

What is it about bad characters that readers like, interviewer Jeff Ayers asked Grisham. “Most lawyers are good, hardworking people who make much money,” he replied. “Nobody wants to read about that!” 

Follett’s take on a great villain is, “You have to hate him but (not) in the way you do COVID-19. He has to be a person. He must be a bully but he must have people around him. I don’t think it has to depend on violence. We can hate him for just being nasty.” 

Series vs. standalone books 

“Standalones are the harder to write,” Box said, although after 20 Joe Pickett books, he finds himself walking “a fine line between introducing (backstory) to new readers without boring longtime readers. I try to sum it up in a sentence or two for new readers so they don’t fee lost.” 

Grisham, on the other hand, prefers standalones. “Once I’ve finished a book, I’m done. You can’t do that with a series.” Although, he’ll never say never, having written a middle-grade thriller series, Theodore Boone: Kid Lawyer, and his Camino Island mystery is threatening to morph into a series with its follow-up, Camino Winds. 

Author branding vs. genre jumping 

“I had written 40 series romances before I wrote my first crossover (into suspense),” Sandra Brown said. “It was freeing but terrifying. My publisher said, ‘Do we sell you as a romance writer or a suspense writer? You’re sending mixed signals.’” 

“After ten legal thrillers, I asked myself about writing other types of books, Grisham said. “(My mystery) Camino Winds, for instance doesn’t have a single lawyer!” 

Follett’s take on switching from his original, trademark thrillers to historical novels with the crossover historical fiction of The Pillars of the Earth, is there was a common thread tying all of them together. “Two things that appeal to me enormously are writing about people in love and people in danger. So long as I have those very basic human (issues) there was a continuity between my books.” 

Research 

“I always go (to sites),” Box said, “if I’m going to someplace other than the mythical Saddlestring, Wyoming,” which is Joe Pickett’s home. “I put on my old reporter hat.” Visits to settings can turn up unexpected insights – such as how much wind turbines can sway -- and conduct interviews. “Even though there might be some hesitancy at first, everybody I’ve talked to has been incredibly forthcoming – sometimes more than I anticipate. Just like cops, people love to talk about their professions.” 

“I read a lot and go to locations,” said Dan Brown, for whom location is character. “I also interview a lot of people, but before I can talk to specialists, I have to know something.” 

Gabaldon had, again famously, ever been to Scotland before selling her first novel, which made enough money to finance a trip to the country for her and her husband (who, not incidentally, is tall and redhaired like her book’s hero). “I don’t do any (research) before I start,” Gabaldon said, “because the research is concurrent with the writing. I just trip over stuff as I go along.” She reads primarily for “atmosphere,” she said, while using the Internet for particulars.