In 2008, I discovered how
little I knew about writing after hearing children’s writer, Lin Oliver speak
at a convention hosted by the Minnesota Society of Children’s Book Writers and
Illustrators. To learn more – and to satisfy my natural tendency to “teach
stuff”, I started a series of essays taking the wisdom of published
writers and then applying each “nugget of wisdom” to my own writing. During the
six years that followed, I used the advice of a number of published writers (with their permission) and then applied
the writing wisdom of Lin Oliver, Jack McDevitt, Nathan Bransford, Mike Duran,
Kristine Kathryn Rusch, SL Veihl, Bruce Bethke, and Julie Czerneda to an
analysis of my own writing. Together these people write in genres broad and
deep, and have acted as agents, editors, publishers, columnists, and teachers.
Today I add to that list, Lisa Cron who has worked as a literary agent,
TV producer, and story consultant for Warner Brothers, the William Morris
Agency, and others. She is a frequent speaker at writers’ conferences, and a
story coach for writers, educators, and journalists. Again, I am using her
article, “A Reader’s Manifesto: 15
Hardwired Expectations Every Reader Has for Every Story” (2/16/18 http://blog.creativelive.com/essential-storytelling-techniques/)
3. The reader
expects a glimpse of the big picture from the very first page.
My sister
forwarded me a link to an article on writing by Lisa Cron on the CreativeLive
Blog, which highlights classes and other things encouraging artists of various
sorts. Her first point was that “…we aren’t consciously aware of what our
hardwired expectations are, when we write stories we tend to substitute what
we’ve been taught those expectations are. And a whole lot of what we’ve been
taught is flat out wrong.”
She was talking
about “hardwiring”, which is a neurobiological concept (though it didn’t start
out that way. The word came out of computer design. The history of it is
fascinating and if you’re a geek like me, read about it! http://www.dictionaryofneurology.com/2012/01/hardwired-history-of-word.html)
What did
neuroscience have to do with writing stories? Talk about right brain/left
brain! Art and science mooshed together. Sort of like me…
After reading the
article, I checked out WIRED FOR STORY
from the library and was using Post-it Notes® (the long ones) torn into
thirds to highlight the important points.
There were
already about sixty points by the time I reached page 76. I just got my OWN
copy of WIRED FOR STORY and am permanently marking the meaningful passages.
So, why do
readers like me have that kind of expectation? Because according to Cron and
neurobiology: “…we’re wired to turn to story to teach us the way of the world.”
Instead of using
reading as an escape from reality,
our brains appear to try to pull meaning out of the written word as well. Not
just textbooks, but out of fiction! Every time I read, I read in order to learn
how to deal with situations in the world. I think that this is manifesting
itself in the current scramble by YA, speculative fiction publishers and
according to a story on NBC Evening news last night (15:21, https://www.nbcnews.com/nightly-news/video/nightly-news-full-broadcast-july-7th-1272281155513),
Hollywood screen writers to include the viewpoints of people of color. In order
to become better people, we desperately need to see the world from the viewpoints
of people who we are NOT.
Personally? I
think this is driving force of everything that is going on in the world right
now. According to this article: https://litlab.stanford.edu/how-many-novels-have-been-published-in-english-an-attempt/,
something like 10% of books published are fiction. Fiction (in my mind) equals
story. Less than HALF of all Americans buy ANY kind of book at all in a year;
so let's just say that less than half of all Americans (note: ALL, that includes
senators, judges, police officers, and young adults ALL Americans) read any kind of story at all.
So if so few
people are reading fiction, that means so few people are learning how to deal
with issues and problems ranging from how to get along with people who have
differing points of view to learning how to cope with depression…
And that leaves
us where?
With a marked
inability to see the big picture; to see where things are going; to see trends
in American society.
It leaves us, in my mind, with the way things
are right now…
At any rate, what
does this mean for me as a writer?
I’ll tell you
that my major in college was biology and my master’s degree is in school
counseling – right there, it seems I’d be a natural for the concept of a
neuroscience-driven theory of writing. I am. This seems to be THE most
significant book I have read about writing EVER, and I’ve read most of them and
have twenty or so of my own.
For example,
after reading those first 76 pages, I’ve almost completely re-written the story
I was talking about here: http://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2018/04/writing-advice-lisa-cron-1-start-with.html
The opening line
is now: “‘How much can you lie about yourself and still remain yourself?’ Agnew
snarled at Igaluk Abumayaleh-Jawai just after Second Sunset.”
That’s the
motivating question. It’s the question that, not only will I have to answer
eventually, it’s also a reason for a reader to keep on reading because we ALL
have multiple personalities. I’m most real with my wife; I’m entirely “other” with
my gifted and talented writing classes; I’m someone else again when I’m talking
to students with struggles. While I’m not a total different person, I don’t
behave the same in different situations. Have you ever pretended to be someone in
order to either get another person or group’s attention and then felt afterward
that the person or group you were targeting DOESN’T KNOW THE REAL YOU?
This is what will
draw people into the story. This will give them an opportunity to LEARN
something useful. “We’re wired to turn to story to teach us the way of the
world.”
As readers we
need a notion of the big picture, so we have an idea where we’re going, why,
and what’s at stake for the protagonist. This not only triggers the sense of
urgency that catapults us into the story, it’s also what allows us to make
sense of what’s happening from beginning to end.
It’s a tall
order, but why not try to follow John Irving’s admittedly glib suggestion:
“Whenever possible, tell the entire story of the novel in the first sentence.”
Ask yourself:
What is the scope of my story? What journey will my reader take? Have I made it
clear? Don’t be afraid of “giving it all away” on the very first page. Be
specific, be clear, don’t hold back. Remember, you’re giving readers what they
crave: a reason to care, a reason to be curious, and enough info to understand
what the stakes are.
And I think this is
why we are where we are – not politics (WHATEVER your stripe); not race
(whatever your race); not poverty (whatever your financial state); not national
borders (wherever you live)…we are not reading story.
We, Humans, no
longer understand the world because we no longer turn to story to make sense out of the world. What, in fact,
do the leaders of the world read? What stories have they internalized? I would venture to say that their response would be -- "I don't have time to read!"
Neither, apparently, do the most of the rest of us...And that is THE problem.
2 comments:
In general, I agree: the opening has to at least hint at the bigger picture. I submit as an addendum (or maybe a caveat) that what we consider "the opening" may differ depending on the type of story we're reading, from the opening line or paragraph of a short story to the opening chapter (or possibly more) of a novel. Even so, you're right that the sooner we make it clear the sooner the reader has a better reason to care.
Thanks!
G
Most insightful! Both in regards to the probable dearth of fiction-reading (and hence story-led deprivation) by the world's movers & shakers (what stories then do they tell themselves about the meaning of life?), and as your concept applies to my own humble struggles on the page. I'm wrestling rather unsuccessfully with my latest novel. Time to go back to that first sentence, perhaps.
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