It's All About the Story

I love writing. I might have mentioned that a time or two along the way.

But, much more than that, I love telling stories. I love imagining situations that demonstrate points I want to make, imagining characters that people can understand, can feel for and with, and can identify with, and having them make mistakes and smart moves, learn and grow.

If you ever have a one-on-one conversation with me (it could happen), you'll realize that I'm always tossing out anecdotes, either of things that happened to me, things that happened to people I know, or situations I concocted to make the point I'm trying to make. Because, hey, I love telling stories.

I have a good reputation for communicating with people and perhaps that story telling is part of it, according to this article ("The Science of Storytelling: Why Telling a Story Is the Most Effective Way to Activate Our Brains") that talks about studies that scientifically demonstrate what I've always instinctively known.

In the article, they delve into the physical reasons of why, the genetic usefulness of the story, but I, personally (and with no science backing) think it's easy to explain.

The intent of a story is to allow you to live something vicariously. I don't have to have a child out of wedlock to feel sympathy and understanding for someone in that plight. It is possible for a very sympathetic person to feel that way with a bullet point, but a story, were we're put in her shoes, where we come to terms with parents that disown us, with a workplace world that certainly doesn't want us, with societal norms that make us into monsters, tell us we can't abort the children that will change (possibly disastrously) our futures, but then treat us as pariahs indefinitely for doing so. Juno is an excellent example of a story that doesn't preach, but tells us a whole host of important truths.

Stories, well-told stories, make abstract notions alive, where we can taste the bitter bile of despair or the frothy sweetness of "innocent love," we can itch with the sweat of determination and futility and feel the totally badass thrill of slicing through the enemies that threaten us. We have the opportunities to see things from perspectives we never knew or find comfort in relationships with loved ones, with pets, with friends long gone, relived through someone else's similar story.

That emotional response, in my opinion, comes from it becoming real for you, hearing the various vernaculars in James Herriot's stories, feeling the wuthering wind of desolation in Wuthering Heights,  wondering what it really would be like to find you had power you didn't know about like Harry Potter. That's why so many people (including myself) become passionate about characters and worlds that never existed. That's why nonfiction that pulls out examples that demonstrate the impact of  political decisions or historical facts or scientific discoveries are far more compelling than just description, no matter how erudite the language.

Because, stories make people, situations, facts, history, philosophy come alive.

And once something you've read or heard some story, have absorbed and lived that story, it becomes a part of you and created an emotional response in you. Your memory of reading/hearing it because an episode of you living it as if it's your own memory and affects how you see the world, how you see people, what matters to you. Not because the point was hammered over and over -- in fact, don't do that; people don't respond to that unless they're already believers--but because the lessons are part and parcel of the story. I don't have to hammer a point if it comes as part of a story, intrinsic. It helps, of course, if the contrivance for the story is not obvious and--please, please-the writer took the effort to make it entertaining, too. And if you think you can't have both, you really have been indoctrinated.

Few examples leap to mind like M*A*S*H. I loved that show and I know, for a fact, much of the philosophy and mindset "preached" by that show, most often through example, shapes my views on war and people even today. Some of it got a bit heavyhanded toward the end, but, for the most part, they took characters we cared about and made them deal with things that people really shouldn't have to deal with--without forgetting the humor or the humanity.

So, writing for me--storytelling for me--is about communicating, telling you how I see the world, how I want to see it, what I want to strive for built in, part and parcel, with stories with people I hope you can enjoy and situations that stir the imagination, perspectives that might be different than you expected.

And, with luck, you'll have a great time at the same time.

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The Dark Side of Show Don't Tell

The other day, I was caught by surprise by some feedback on a short story. Not because it was uncomplimentary--that happens, I think, to all writers at some point--but because what she did (and didn't) get out of it was almost exactly the opposite of (a) what I intended and (b) what my other readers of this story have gotten out of it. Now let me be clear, I'm very grateful when anyone not only reads something I've written but takes the time to comment and the more detail the better. I was certainly not shortchanged in that regard. I love hearing an honest response because I want my writing to be the best it can be. That does not mean I have to follow all advice I get (or, technically, any of it) because it's my name on it.  

But, if I want my writing to be more than an exercise in self-gratification, I have to remember that communication involves two interested parties, not just one. I can snicker away all day at my character's banter or antics, but, if I don't communicate them effectively to a reader, I'm snickering alone. Which is fine if that's all I want, but not if I want to actually touch people.

But, by that same token, as a reader, I have some responsibilities, too. I, as a reader, am going to have to see beyond the surface words and look for inferences and inflection, make connections, listen for nuance and tone in conversations and small actions. If I must have every relationship and detail explained, I should stick to reading medicine bottles and skip fiction altogether, because good writing is as much about what the author doesn't overtly say as what she does say.

One of the most pervasive mantras in any writing venue is "Show, don't tell." And it's damn good advice which is why it's ubiquitous. There are several reasons for this, including, (a) it's boring as hell to hear a litany of data instead of seeing things happen and people grow, (b) if you're not careful, the very descriptions you provide on a character's intelligence or kindness doesn't play out in the words and actions of said character, which is a good way to crucify him with a reader, and (c) it's often the difference between someone telling you a story and you living it. Most writers I know strive for having their readers immersed and a part of it.

But, like most things in a subjective media, it's not a binary proposition. Not being subtle enough (telling not showing) is insulting to a perceptive reader. Being too subtle or oblique is frustrating and confusing and insulting in a different way. But readers are not the same. Some readers may pick up on lots of clues and delight in putting them together. Others may prefer only a modicum of subtleties or a certain type and find themselves readily baffled when confronted with a layered story. In part, that drives choosing an audience, but it also means that you as a writer, need to find the right level of subtlety and clarity to convey what you want to convey to your target audience. And there will be misses: some you can fix with a little more/less clarity, some you can't without corrupting what you want to say or losing the bulk of your audience.

Bottom line, though, this whole exercise reminded me that this communication of story, of characters, of action, of what I wanted to say, wasn't just about me, and that I should check once in a while with my target audience to make sure what I was saying was coming through as I intended, because I hate to snicker alone. And I think it's worthwhile to talk about critical reading skills because the same skills that let you pick up on context and subtleties in fiction are useful in the real "nonfiction" world of Main Stream Media where spin is king and emotional manipulation (usually toward outrage) is the name of the game. Being wary of inflammatory subtleties and overt manipulation is useful when trying to get at the kernels of truth, or identifying a source with an agenda. Critical reading, like critical thinking, helps separate the chaff from the wheat, so get those reading glasses on and let's have fun like it's fourth grade and we're doing those silly inane passages for reading comprehension except this one is fun and at higher than a fourth grade level, because, hey, you wouldn't be reading this blog if you were still reading on that level.

Note, since blogger puts everything in italics, the "bolded" bits are actually italics.

"Can you believe that guy, K'Ti?" Darma ranted, her ready rage giving her voice real carrying power. She towered over her petite brown companion, a slim blonde beauty as supple and sharp as her laser blue eyes. "Hemming and hawing and desperate for any excuse to stop us from going out to collect plants in broad daylight when he and his shapeshifting buddies—even his non-shape-shifting buddies—go out hunting every night. Hell, last time he went hunting, he came back with a hole in his ass so big, I had to give him blood half a dozen times so he didn't die. And then—then—he gets this uptight look on his face, and tells me I need to be careful but he'll let us go by ourselves against his better judgement. Let us!

Wouldn't getting a hole in my ass argue how dangerous it is, you crazy girl? Laren fumed, from his hiding place in the tree behind them.

Her companion, K'Ti, in that tight voice she used just before she went after a body with a wooden spoon, said "I noticed. It's not as if you could have been any clearer when he tried to bull his way onto our expedition."

"I know, right? Getting all bossy with me. Damn it, I'm three years older than he is," Darma kicked the underbrush. "You're lucky you have Xander. At least he respected you enough not to try to talk you out of it."

"Xander was only wise enough to lose an argument in a way no one else could hear," K'Ti corrected, her voice grim. K'Ti had a prodigious temper, too, and Laren had been on the receiving end a time or two. Laren felt an edge of respect for his foster brother, Xander, going toe-to-toe with the formidable healer even if only in their minds.

"Oh, right, Xander's a telepath even in his human form," Darma said, with a touch of envy. "Didn't think about that. Must be convenient."

"I think it's cheating. It is much harder to speak forcefully when you can't speak."

Darma laughed at that, ""Shoulda just yelled at him anyway, made him look foolish."

K'Ti sighed. "Or I would have looked so. I've been with him on this same route to gather plants two dozen times without problems. There's no reason to think I would not be safe with you. But, in the end, he did promise not to come unless we called for him."

"Will he do it?"

K'Ti appeared surprised. "Of course he will," she said as if that were almost insulting, then added, "I will know if he doesn't keep to his word. There is no hiding it from me."

Darma laughed again, her temper subsiding as it usually did as quickly as it came. "Empath and a telepath hooking up. No one can escape. Is Xander off the suppressant? He hasn't had a fever in three days. I mean, he can change into a dragon if he needs to, right?"

 So 501 words, no overt action so far, but have we wasted our time or have we learned something?

For instance, who is Darma mad at (name is not required but extra points if you guess it): (a) Father, (b) Head honcho, (c) overprotective boyfriend?

Are these folks, as a whole, normal humans or do they have special abilities. If the latter, can you name some of the abilities possible? Does everyone have the same set of abilities?

Is Laren part of the conversation? If not, what is he doing?

What connection does Xander (referenced but not included here) have to the other characters? What powers do we know he has? Extra credit if you can identify one of K'Ti's capabilities as well.

Whose POV (Point of View) is this story written in?

I tried to put clues to answer all these questions (and more) in here, but, and I can't stress it enough, you're not "wrong" if you answer differently than I intended or you can't answer a question. That just means I need to work a little harder. But isn't it fun to fathom out a story? Or maybe it's just me.

I would LOVE it if people wrote down their responses to this.

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Storytelling and Communicating

I had one of those weird/confusing conversations I occasionally have with my husband where he says something I just don't understand. It's ironic. We both have an excellent track record with communicating with people, but, when it comes to each other, it's like a different language.

Today he said, and I quote, "Storytelling isn't communicating. It's art. Art has nothing to do with communication." He said some more stuff along those lines, but I don't remember them all. My eyes were rolling. He was trying (I believe) to bring forward that I didn't have to please anyone else with my writing; that no one had to get it to be worth my while.

While I appreciate the supportive sentiment (expressed because he really doesn't like an aspect of my latest book), I don't agree on many levels. First off, of course storytelling is communicating. It can be art, too, but storytelling is, first and last, a way of communicating. True, it can be art and anyone who's ever sat, breathless, at the knee of a master story teller knows they aren't all the same. It's a gift. But art, in my opinion, is about communicating something too, expressing something the artist, whether musician, painter, sculptor, writer, etc. wanted to say. The viewer/listener/reader may not get that same something (or all the intended something), but, in my opinion, without that communication, it's not even art. Even if what's communicated is just "I'm beautiful."

Good storytelling is art, made all the more difficult because we can't use our voices and inflections, our hands and dramatic pauses. We have to put as much as possible on paper, using language and the music inherent in the words themselves because, in general, we can't be there to read it the way we envision we'd tell it.

Some of that is technical - knowing punctuation and pacing, vocabulary and expression, but some of that is art, knowing just that right lilt at the very end that cements it all in place, or finding the words that breathe life into a character's dialog, that makes a reader smile or laugh out loud. The art, in my opinion, is really where the writer touches a reader, bringing some aspect of the book to sufficient life for the reader to care what happens, to feel something about what is only paper, ink and imagination. For events that never happened and people who never existed to matter deeply to the reader, so much so that the book, those events, those characters become part of the reader's psyche.

Fancy shmancy imagery and a million dollar vocabulary can be tools to do that, but they can't do it alone.

For that, you need art.

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