THE STORY IS JUST THE BEGINNING

One thing my late brother Reg taught me was that a story must have a beginning, a middle and an end. Reg was an entertaining storyteller, whether he was recounting tales of the manipulating “Dragon Lady” that ruled the town in Viet Nam where he was posted, or of the celebrated frontier Indian fighter that was our distant ancestor. He learned his skill at the knees of our Appalachian relatives, and was sure to include all the gory details, pregnant pauses, humor and suspense that kept folks listening. He never failed to leave his audience howling with laughter or shaking their heads over the blockheadedness of some hapless fool once the story was done.

I learned how to tell a good story the same way. In fact, in my family, storytelling is a competitive art, with folks vying to top each other with a good tale. Even so, I do my best work on the page. I’ve learned, over the years, that telling a story via the written word is very different from telling it live and in person. Just because your friends and neighbors say you’re a great storyteller doesn’t mean you can write the Great American Novel.

Take the “beginning, middle and end” rule, for example. Listeners will really appreciate that you start at the beginning and go through to the end. But that approach can be dry as dust in a book. Sometimes it’s fun to start at the end, then go back to the beginning. Or jump in the middle and let the reader figure things out as you go along. Just as long as you have all the elements, and you’re skillful at applying them, the written word allows more flexibility.

A book of fiction should never be just a recitation of the “facts.” First this happened, then this, then that, THE END. (I would argue that the best books of nonfiction are not constructed this way either.) Believe it or not, I’ve encountered a couple of novels lately that fit this pattern. Their authors had clearly been told they were great “storytellers.” The plots were full of incidents. Things happened with frequency, all in sequential order. But long before I reached THE END, I got bored and bailed. 

Not only did these books lack any kind of structural interest, they lacked any of the other elements that make for a great story: those gory details, pregnant pauses, humor, suspense and, most of all, character nuances. A family storyteller can usually sidestep the character question by simply naming his protagonist. Everyone knows Uncle Joe was a dunce or Great-Grandma Irene liked the corn likker a little too much. 

An author writing for an unknown audience must make her characters as life-like as those well-loved family members. A storyteller can depend on tone of voice and active body language to sell the story. A writer has to season the stew with vivid settings, sensitive timing, snappy dialogue, sexy attraction between hero and heroine, the right word, the right image. 

The story is just the beginning. It takes a skilled writer to carry the reader through that sticky middle all the way to THE END.

Cheers, Donna

A HALLOWEEN TRIBUTE TO STEPHEN KING

As we approach All Hallow’s Eve, when the barrier between the land of the living and the realm of the dead thins to a porous shroud, it’s only natural that ghosts and goblins, demons and witches, vampires and werewolves should dominate our dreams. This holiday, above all others, allows our imaginations free reign, in an attempt to conquer our fear of the unknown. By constructing an elaborate world of the supernatural (or by simply describing it, if you prefer), we can manage that fear of the dark that has been with us since childhood.

The darkness that can be found within the human soul is much harder to banish with the use of scary costumes and fake blood. Master storyteller Stephen King has always understood this. It’s the human element that has elevated his work above the easily-dismissed label of “genre fiction” to art that speaks to the heart of his readers. His characters—from the tortured teenager in Carrie, the alternately struggling, guilt-ridden, alcoholic, or grieving writers in The Dark Half, The Tommyknockers, The Shining and Bag of Bones, and the obsessed fan in Misery, to the many kids on the cusp of adulthood (“The Body”, It) and small town sheriff heroes (too many titles to count)—are real people struggling with issues we can all understand.

In the Afterword to his latest bestseller, King says that he writes about “ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances.” Yes, I suppose you could call the descent of a forcefield over your town “extraordinary circumstances” (Under The Dome). That King could use this premise as the basis of more than 1000 pages of riveting fiction about how people act under pressure is phenomenal. No monsters with weird, glowing eyes or fangs. Just the people with live with every day, seen at their worst—and best.

Of course, King has evolved over the years. There were more of those “real” monsters in the early days—It is an example—more of the clearly supernatural. Yet even then, the people in those stories stood out—the gang of misfit kids fighting that evil clown, the grieving father finally realizing sometimes it’s best if they don’t come back in Pet Sematary. Guilt. Redemption. Deep stuff for a mere “horror” writer.

In King’s latest bestseller, a collection of short stories entitled Full Dark, No Stars, there are no monsters except the ones we carry with us, hidden beneath the faces we show to our neighbors and friends. In each of the four stories, King shows us just how it should be done, taking a relatively simple premise and extending it to its logical conclusion. Without flinching. How greed destroys a man and two families in rural Nebraska in “1922”. How an unassuming writer of cozy mysteries finds her true self in her reaction to violation and near-murder in “Big Driver”. How envy leads a man to make the deal of a lifetime—and seemingly get away with it—in “Fair Extension”. How a woman comes to recognize the rotten foundation of her partnership in “A Good Marriage”.

Writing at short story length is a challenge for the best writer. You have to build the story quickly, scope out the characters in full in a few words, condense the three acts of the drama to a few short pages. But though he can be wordy at novel length, King shines in a brief character sketch, whether in a novel or a short story. In two paragraphs, he can make you see, hear, smell and know that character intimately. And he is a master of the other elements of the writer’s art at this length. It’s no wonder that short stories like “The Body” (which became STAND BY ME) and “Rita Hayworth and The Shawshank Redemption” were so successfully adapted to the big screen.

The world’s greatest “horror” writer has a lot to teach those of us struggling to make a name for ourselves in the rocky territory of “genre fiction”, whether we target the romance audience, the science fiction audience or both. King quite obviously writes character-driven fiction, though his characters most often find themselves in horrific situations. His audience has found him, and it’s much broader than the "slasher" fans who read hardcore horror fiction.

Yes, Stephen King is a phenomenon not likely to be repeated. (Would that I had just one drop of that juice!) But just as he has not allowed himself to be pigeon-holed, neither should we force ourselves into categories that don’t fit us in a false hope of acceptance.

Happy Halloween! Donna

The Cycle of History and Storytelling

Yesterday, one of my horse breeder associates sent me a forward that made me think. It was slanted toward a particular presidential candidate (who I happen to support, but I won't get into politics on this blog--at least other than fictional politics LOL).

Comparisons aside, I felt this portion of the script was worth bringing forward:

About the time our original thirteen states adopted their new constitution in 1787, Alexander Tyler, a Scottish history professor at the University of Edinburgh, had this to say about the fall of the Athenian Republic some 2,000 years earlier:

"The average age of the world's greatest civilizations from the beginning of history, has been about 200 years. During those 200 years, those nations always progressed through the following sequence:

1. from bondage to spiritual faith;
2. from spiritual faith to great courage;
3. from courage to liberty;
4. from liberty to abundance;
5. from abundance to complacency;
6. from complacency to apathy;
7. from apathy to dependence;
8. From dependence back into bondage"

This got me thinking about parallels in my soon-to-be-marketed Science Fiction Romance entitled P2PC. (If you follow this blog, you know the name of this blog came from the pages of this WIP. *wink*)

The back story (and future story, since it will be a series) follows this pattern. Two centuries before the story opens, the people were at 8. The plot of the first in the series covers 2 and 3, and future books will move through phases 4, 5, 6, 7, and back to 8. History does repeat itself. It's followed this same cycle in the past, and it will follow it 1,500 years in the future--at least in my fictional universe.

So how do I, as a writer, make my story fresh and interesting? By bringing in a character who arrives on the scene out of desperation, with no idea who or what he has stumbled upon--and then having him discover he's a major player in the conflict.

Steven King has a great quote about effective storytelling:
"I try to create sympathy for my characters, then turn the monsters loose."

"Monsters" can manifest themselves in many forms. :)

Any thoughts?