A postscript on feeeeeling

The most important job--perhaps the whole goal of storytelling--is to make the recipient feel. No matter what other goals you may have--to instruct, to subvert, to convert, even to merely relate an event--if you don't make the reader/listener/viewer feel, you will never capture that person's attention enough for them to pay attention enough to your story. If they feel, your story will live. If they don't, your story is just a dry husk.

Just something to keep in mind.

Books I love and why they make me FEEL

Continuing with the last post, I thought I'd take a look around at my bookshelves and note what it is about them that makes me love them. This is certainly not an all-inclusive list! But it does hit on some key things.

A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L'Engle. One of the first books to impact me emotionally. Meg feels unlovable, yet it's the fact that she loves her brother that ultimately saves them both.

Scumble, Ingrid Law. The twisty feeling of wanting something so big and right, and yet, your own weaknesses are what stand in your way.

The Perilous Gard, Elizabeth Marie Pope. Kate's unflagging integrity really appeals to me--she's determined to look truth in the eye, no matter how painful it is. And the fact that sometimes, she thinks she sees the truth, when she really doesn't (ie how Christopher feels about her).

Crossing to Paradise, Kevin Crossley-Holland. Gatty has such a big heart, and she is so loyal--and yet, people don't see that. They just see a dirty servant. The contrast between what people see and what she is inside--and the fact that she tries so hard to do the right thing when no one else cares--really hits me in the heart. It makes me want to cheer her on. When injustice happens to her, I feel hit in the gut. When she gets what she deserves, it brings tears to my eyes.

The Dreamer, Lora Innes. This is actually a web comic, but the first volume is out in print, and the second one will be soon. It's very YA. Bea, the main character, shares her feelings rather dramatically, but what anchors the story is the bravery in the face of losing a lot that the 18th century characters show--Alan posing as a British soldier to steal her off a British ship, Knowlton leading his intelligence troops despite the danger that it might (and did!) pose to him.

The House of the Scorpion, Nancy Farmer. I'm starting to see a pattern here--this is another book with an underdog, a kid whose worth nobody sees. But he desperately WANTS to be worth something, and to be loved. He treats people the way he wishes they'd treat him. There are a few layers of innocence that come off, and it hurts, and you feel it as a reader. Which makes you love his triumphs all the more when they do happen.

So, things like self-worth, justice, loyalty, integrity, and courage seem to be important draws for me. I think this is why agents and editors sometimes either decline to name a genre they are looking for, or name one and then reject mss as not being what they're looking for. Because I think what anyone is looking for in a book is beyond mere genre. It's something at the heart of a book, regardless of whether it's contemporary or historical or full of zombie aardvarks. It's not always easy to define, but you know it when you see it, because it makes you fall in love.

Making the reader feel

I stayed up late to finish Maggie Stiefvater's final wolves book (Forever), and because she does such a lovely job of making the reader feel for her world and characters, it made me want to analyze the whole feeeeeeling thing in books. I think many times you can have a book that has an interesting plot and you can have good prose--but still get the response from readers/agents/editors that "I don't love it enough." Obviously, some of this is subjective--I can think of well-written books that other people love that I find repellent, and vice-versa. But I do think there are elements that can help a reader feel more, and therefore love the book more. I don't think every element applies to all books simultaneously, but here are a few things I can think of:

1. Be inside the character. Like the character lets you be privy to intimate information s/he doesn't share with just anybody. (Think DJ Schwenk of Dairy Queen, who can't string two words together to anyone, yet we get to see all the depth of feeling she has inside her head.)

2. Be inside a character who is likable. A book may be interesting with an unpleasant narrator--but a book I LOVE has a character I love and want to have as a friend. Flawed, vulnerable, but with heroic potential. Obviously, what appeals to each person is slightly different.

3. Be inside a character who yearns for a basic, primal need. The thing that's at stake MATTERS. You could say that this just means high stakes (plot), but I think it's more a choice of how personal that stake is, AND how deep it is. I've been reading the screenwriting book Save the Cat! as well, and that's a point the author makes, too--what's at stake is a need on a gut level. Life. True Love. Etc.

4. One True Thing. Just knowing One True Thing might be enough for a highly literary book that kids have to read in school. But for a kid to LOVE that book, I think the character has to not just know, but GET--against impossible odds--that One True Thing. Like the notion of love and family in Harry Potter. It's not enough to see that there is life after death ("those who love us never really leave us"). What makes us feel is the fact that those dead love Harry enough to come back and protect him. The love Harry has for his friends/adopted family drive him to sacrifice everything to protect them, just as his own family did for him.

One more thought--in the midst of all this feeeeeeling, you have to vary things up a bit. You have to have plot happening. Sam and Grace have two primal problems, actually--both staying human so they can be together, and keeping the pack safe and alive from the likes of wolf hunters. So part of the story is having them on either side of a divide from each other, and the other part puts them together on the same side against a different problem. Having both of these issues going on keeps tension up, yet at the same time, gives the reader an emotional rest once they start feeling saturated. And, it's true to life. When is the last time you had one and ONLY one issue to deal with at a time? It makes the book feel more well-grounded in reality, which makes it more believable, which makes it easy to suspend disbelief and feel for your characters.

More on middle grade

I was just rereading Eva Ibbotson's fabulous MG novel Journey to the River Sea this month, and noticed another element of many beloved MG books: justice. In this book, the main character is likable, interesting, positive--and meets with very nasty people who aren't any of those things, who she has to live with and deal with. Because Ibbotson makes you like her, you feel rather incensed at the way her distant relations treat her, and so when they get their comeuppance at the end, you feel the satisfaction of absolute justice. Same in James and the Giant Peach. James's aunts are cruel and abusive--and what is their reward? Why, they get run over flat by the giant peach as it rolls down the hill into the sea. As an adult, you may look at that and go, ew. But as a kid, let me tell you, you are CHEERING. Even Harry Potter, which from Goblet of Fire onward is, IMO, very firmly YA, there is a wonderful sense of justice. Gilderoy Lockhart getting "impaled on his own sword," as Dumbledore observes. And of course, Harry knowing things at the end that Voldemort doesn't about wands, and all of Voldemort's evil plans backfiring on him. Gordon Korman's Schooled (which takes place in high school but which is definitely readable by middle grade kids) has this happen again and again, as kids try to trip up the main character, bizarro Capricorn Anderson--and fail. There are a ton of great books out there that do this, and it is very satisfying.

I don't think it's because kids are bloodthirsty--exactly--but rather that they are often the victim of injustice because they are small. They have less power. They don't know how to point out the injustice. And, they see things more black and white. You can be more ambiguous in YA and adult, but MG is all about straightforward justice!

What writers can learn from film

Like lots of other people, we've been on a Harry Potter film (and book) marathon at our house in anticipation of the final film. You should be able to guess from this blog that I'm a Potter fan, and I've just been fascinated by all the tidbits out there on the making of the films. I don't want to write screenplays and I don't have particular dreams of a book of mine ever being adapted for film. (Uh, if someday that happens, I'm not against it! But I don't think I've written a book that must become a film to this point, and really, books are my one true love.) However. Watching and reading about this stuff really sets off creative sparks in my brain. So here are some semi-random thoughts about writing that I've had from learning about film:

1. On adaptations. It's easy to get tied up in one and only one version. But it's actually possible to rearrange events and combine characters and still bulls-eye the heart of the story. Doubtful? See The Prisoner of Azkaban, book and film.

2. Atmosphere can change everything! Ever see the B version of a film? I don't just mean the basic acting on a green screen, where the background will be filled in via computer later. I was amazed to learn that you could film a scene and then change things like color and lighting afterwards. Remember the scene in Deathly Hallows part 1 where they're running through the forest and the chasers are after them? It's all very light in the original take. It's only afterwards that they darkened it and made it ominous. In writing, I think this whole coloration thing is voice. You can have the same plot events take place, but tell a very different story depending on your word choice or voice. The nice thing is, you can keep the basic events and try out different voices and tones and then pick the most effective one.

3. Likewise, editing. I'm fascinated by the fact that a person can be the principal actor in a film, yet have no idea what it's going to look like in the end. That's due to editing. Editing in film is I think a lot more of a creative process than in writing, where the editor is more of a guide and the author carries the bulk of the creative responsibility. In writing, the author does most of that. In both cases, a number of scenes are created, but in the editing process, you get to pick which ones need to stay in the final version, and in which order. Depending on what you show your audience, you can still tell very different stories. There's a lovely scene in Half Blood Prince that was cut (parts of it appear in the final film, but abbreviated) that would have revealed more about Snape than perhaps would be wise at this point of the story. Other times, a scene might be informationally or even emotionally nice (the exchange between Harry and Dudley in DH1), but a competing scene gets even stronger emotion across that has a longer-term effect for the whole story (the opening sequence as it stands in the final, with Hermione erasing her parents' memories). Those are hard choices, deciding which of two strong scenes to keep in. But getting them right can make all the difference in the world.

4. Feeling, believability, and loyalty. Rupert Grint is really an excellent actor, you know? He comes across as just a regular guy you might know from anywhere in real life, but he's really good at getting a range of emotions across in a way that you believe instantly and that you feel. As a result, you totally believe what's going on. You find yourself inside the characters' heads, wanting them to succeed. Obviously a lot of his method is film-specific; voice tone, facial expression, etc. In writing, you can't describe each tic of each facial muscle, or drip your dialogue tags with adverbs. What you've got to do, though, is somehow get inside your character's head and feelings to that same degree, so that when your MC is jealous, or depairing, or wildly in love, your reader feels that along with your character. It's a matter of interiority and voice and point of view. The way you do it in writing is different than in film, but in both, it's absolutely essential that you do it if you want your story to carry any sort of resonance with your reader/viewer.

What about you? Have you learned anything from film that translates to novel writing?

Books then and now

I've noticed a funny thing while browsing YA at my local library (new to me for the past 11 months). It's a rural area and a lot of the books are a) old or b) self-published/from a small press. Also, the whole thing skews rather young, with books I'd definitely put in MG shelved as YA (and a few books that really are adult stuck in YA as well, for some reason). There's a new children's/YA librarian and the library's just had an addition put on, with more room to look for new YA and MG. So there's hope for change. But it does give me insight into how much it's all changed since pre-Harry Potter days. And just how writing styles and techniques can go out of style in general.

1. Length. Whoa. 200 pages used to be normal for YA. Now it feels like a taste. It's not that the stories themselves are any longer. But the old ones feel waaaaay summarized.

2. Which brings us to show, don't tell. Some authors have always been this way. But a lot of the quick reads from pre-HP days are really bad about this. Today, after HP and Twilight and the like, kids want to feel like they're really there--they want to feel that the story is immediate and all around them, not summarized from a remote position. They want to be inside the characters' heads, not observing from the outside. Point of view is really important in YA especially!! There are still authors who write the old way, who have been publishing for a long time and just have kept on doing the same old thing. But if you compare what is "hot" today with what was "hot" in 1990, it's not the same thing.

3. Please pick names that aren't dated--especially when it's supposed to be contemporary and you're using names from your childhood. For example, Will is a great name for a boy today. Bill sounds...um, a little 1950s/60s? I know, Bill Weasley! But they specifically have old-fashioned names. If you don't have a good reason like that...maybe check out the latest Social Security names list.

And finally, re: then vs. now: I recently ran across a post from a home schooler who seemed proud of never reading modern children's literature with her kids, only classics. I realize most people who stumble across this blog already love (current) books, and I also realize that schools are just as guilty of classics overkill. But you do realize this is the golden age of children's literature, don't you? That there are more high quality books on more varied subjects out there for kids now than EVER BEFORE? That many of these books ARE classics, and will be read many years from now? Has there EVER been a plot genius like Rowling? Would you really deprive your kid from the heart and wisdom of Kate DiCamillo or Ingrid Law or Cynthia Lord? Effortless Greek myths come back to life with Rick Riordan? The funny and frightening aspects of childhood and first love as seen by Wendelin van Draanen? Meeting tragedy with humor with Lindsey Leavitt? Meeting real kids from very different cultures through Trent Reedy? I could write pages and pages about all the wonderful books that have been published since you were a child that are filled with humor, wisdom, courage, heart, insights into other people, etc. Charlotte's Web is a wonderful book, but if you haven't read anything since then, then get thee to the new book shelf at your library. Talk to a librarian. Maybe let your kid pick something out that looks interesting instead of only letting them pick something off your classics list. Who knows? Maybe you'll find a favorite new author, too.

On being ready

My children are taking swimming lessons at the moment. My husband is an academic, and we often move in the summers, and swimming is one of those things we’re a bit behind in. We’re finally in a place with a) a pool and b) an affordable swim lesson schedule and c) we are not currently moving. So we are jumping in with full force. They are all at the same pool at the same time, and I watch them every day as they struggle to learn what their teachers have planned for their particular groups each day. And it makes me think of writing.

The younger kids are in the more beginning levels, but they are more likely to listen to their teachers, more likely to jump in without fear, and less likely to worry about consequences. I was excited to see one of my younger kids throw her head and shoulders all the way in and really swim today—as opposed to the jerky, gasping, one-move-at-a-time action she’s done until now. That struck me as significant—if you’re going to swim—or write—you have to throw yourself all the way in. You have to immerse yourself in the story, and you can’t be self-conscious or worry about failure or things not working. You have to be all the way inside.

The older kids are having to play catch up, which isn’t easy. They are more conscious of their shortfallings, and it’s harder for them to throw themselves all the way in. They want to, but letting go and submersing themselves completely, letting go of some control, letting the water take them—those are hard things. They’re old enough to know that water can hurt you. They’ve had longer to learn and practice bad habits. They’re less likely to really internalize what the teacher says. Even as they desperately want to follow the instructions, their bodies have a harder time mimicking the right steps. Their minds want to take shortcuts, fill in things they know from past experience, instead of really looking at what they’re doing.

On the first day, my oldest woke up a little cranky, and said something like, “Mom, I already know all the swimming strokes. I just need to go to a pool and practice. I don’t need lessons.” While I agree that they all need more practice time, I don’t agree that he already knows everything. But don’t we feel that way as writers sometimes? We’ve been writing for so long. We KNOW to “show, don’t tell.” We KNOW to ditch the adverbial dialogue tags. We KNOW how a plot works. And yet…we get in the pool, and all the million things we know still don’t add up to effective swimming. Despite all our work and knowledge, it’s like we’re treading water. The individual parts of the writing are nice, but as a whole, they still don’t add up. Something is missing. Meanwhile, other writers swim right on past. I watched my older kids’ class spend two solid hours on surface dives. Two hours of belly flops. Thank goodness for patient teachers, because I would have been very frustrated after all that, and no change.

But here’s a beautiful thing. After all of that knowing and trying and failing, my oldest finally leaned over today and dove in perfectly. Somehow, all that knowing finally meshed inside him. All of those loose bits of knowledge finally connected, and he dove. It worked. And it will work with your writing, too, if you just keep at it.