I do think that every piece of a story should be there for a reason, but what qualifies as a "reason" depends on the writer. An expansive writer may feel that you should know that Aunt Gertrude, who we meet for only a page and a half, has a TinkerBell figurine, from the Disneyland 1976 bicentennial celebration, in her garden shed. A really lean writer may not even give the aunt a name or, for that matter, may not even bother to define the relationship between the middle-aged gardener and the protagonist. But whatever the reason, it should be about the story, rather than something like, "I want to write a few flowery sentences here" or, "I described that other room for three pages; I should give this one at least a page and a half," or "I need to puff up my word count by at least ten percent." Or even, "I want to establish normality before the craziness starts," or "I want to distract from the big clue that just went by." Those are reasons, but they're reasons similar to, "I need my child to eat vegetables for dinner." The vegetables need to be appealing, and the writing needs to be interesting, even if they are needed for some other reason. So those structural elements need to have some other reason to keep the reader from saying, "This is boring. Why are you wasting my time?"
I think what you're saying is that in many workshop entries, there is too much stage directing. This can range from trivial, unimportant details like a mundane sunset, to important actions that lack narration, voice, and impact. It's basically a symptom of trying to convert a movie scene to text.
If I was to tell you my MC was using a cell phone almost everyone and their mother would know what I am talking about. It'd be a one line sentence - Peter hit redial on his iPhone. Now if I told you my MC was using a bellowphone or an aetherphone; just how many are going to be running to their computers to google what I am talking about. Depending on how detailed I want to go any of these devices I can spout out not lines but paragraphs of . Are you telling me you'd rather have just this - as Peter blew into the bellowphone, Sarah covered her ears and then spend the chapter scratching your head trying to figure out what on earth a bellowphone is. I am the complete opposite in that sense. I want to know what the author is trying to convey instead of pulling my hair saying - write more you silly person. Personally books with an overload of dialogue strike me as a poor man's style - the authors trying to put a movie script between the pages to make up for the fact they have no clue how to describe well enough to hold the readers' interest. Because if writers couldn't keep a reader's interest with these highly detailed scripts beforehand works like Dickens, Melville, Tolkien, etc. would have crashed and burned instead of still being talked of favorably not decades but actually centuries later. Most of the modern books - with the short choppy script and excessive dialogue - nowadays will be lucky if they get more than "oh yeah, that book" in a decade's time from their initial release date. Now with respect to tell vs. show; really the difference is verbiage and context. Tell - Bob was scared. Show - Bob's eyes moved / roved / flickered wildly as he scanned his surroundings. Tell - "Come on," impatience was obvious in Jill's voice. Show - "Come on!" Barked Jill. Both convey the same - fright & impatience - but the way they're presented makes a load of difference. There's also a little grey area between the two which the really skilled writers use - basically they show, and then they back it up with a bit of telling just on the off chance you didn't get it the first time. Just an extremely short ditty below. Panting Bob leaned against the wall. Movement, the soft tread of footsteps, caused him to jerk around. "Jesus, Jacob you nearly got shot." His colleague only grinned, "did you see that? That sh*t was frightening." Though short the initial is that Bob is a bit nervous; Jacob gives a reason even if you have but 1/16th of the story. You say you rely on how-to books, they're okay. However, writing should be natural and ever changing. If it was stuck in one method of writing - regardless of what is happening - then the reader will get rather bored.
@Inks - I wouldn't want to strangle anybody for anything. There seem to be quite liberal assumptions about how I feel about excessive verbiage/description, e.g. assumptions that I felt that the story in Flash Fiction Online was "bad", which I never intended. Looking at Anna Karenina, Tolstoy's prose seems to get right down to it from the start, lean and inviting. The first very quotable sentence sets the theme of the story, and then there's lean description backed up with drama. We don't know the characteristics of the 'French Girl', we just know her role in the family's unhappiness. There's definitely telling, at least by some definitions. ('Can the camera see it?') 'Every person in the house felt that there was no sense in their living together.' but there is by no means too much of it. I don't feel bogged down, and neither am I thinking 'get on with it.' There is also showing - the prince waking up after sleeping on the couch, etc. We don't know what the sofa looks like. We know very little about what the prince looks like. I do not think that there's excessive detail or verbiage here. Inks, if you're writing like this, I would be more likely to worship at your feet than try to strangle you! @Aire - you seem to be assuming what I would like to see in a story, or wouldn't. I don't know what a bellowphone is. If one was introduced into a story, then I'd want some description. But not a long paragraph of it. Assuming that by bellow phone you mean something like this: http://www.bellowphone.com then an example of how I would like to see it described in a story would be this: BTW: The straight tell in the first sentence is deliberate. It's very short, and helps set up the conflict that might follow in the story, and therefore I think good 'value for money' in terms of advancing the narrative. It's also a tell that Leonard is a lodger. However, it's not telling per se that I'm not sure that I like, it's excessive description. That can be either excessive telling, or excessively detailed prose in general (whether showing or telling). @Aire - if someone introduced a bellow phone in the way you suggest I would prefer, I would be unhappy as I wouldn't know what was going on. But I don't need to know that Leonard is wearing a striped blue and black t-shirt, that his trousers are blue, he has purple suspenders, and he's bare foot. All of those would add to his image, but I feel that in that (assumed introductory) context, giving him a cloth cap and letting the reader know he does a one man band act is enough. Others may disagree. @123456789 - yes, I agree. In my subjective opinion, a number of people do give too much stage direction. It dilutes the purpose of what they are writing. When I look at classics and traditionally published texts, I don't find that. I've surveyed a number of online opinions about what is telling versus showing, and seems that there is some variation in the definitions. E.g by Emma Darwin's definition (and according to her examples) then a lot of what I'm talking about is telling. http://emmadarwin.typepad.com/thisitchofwriting/showing-and-telling-the-basics.html I'm not saying that anyone should adopt this definition of telling or agree with it, but I think this example of Darwin's illustrates what I find less than optimal. And, it illustrates that I don't object to telling per se, just too much of it with too much detail. I don't believe that we will help each other on this forum by being polite and 'nice' to each other. In my opinion, which IS just an opinion, there is quite a bit of writing posted in the workshop which looks more like the 'bad telling' example, and which could benefit by being more like the 'good telling' example.
Ha ha! Well, I didn't say it was perfect and above a wee critique! I just said I enjoyed it too, liked the extra detail, and I feel that kind of slower writing also has a place in novels, under some circumstances. By the way, I am quite impressed at how hard you're studying this issue, and how many different ways you're looking at it. Yours is the kind of focus and dedication that will result in good writing. I'm sure of it.
Thanks @jannert - I'm now going to be late for work due to writing a 'telling' novel intro. (Up in the workshop in case anyone wants revenge ). (Fortunately my job is such that I don't have to punch in and I can make up the time. I feel that the discussion in this thread has improved my writing. If I can continue that ....
So instead Leonard is naked. Sometimes clothes make the characters. A savvy businessman presented as wearing sweatpants and running shoes will raise the reader's eyebrow rather than just introducing the businessman - Sarah nodded at her boss [excuse me while I yawn]. This is extremely basic. I mean not everyone knows what an organ pipe is (and there's people who wouldn't know a trumpet if you shoved it at them), people who couldn't give a squat about church or have never watched a jazz band, etc. would still be going what. What noise does it make? How bizarre does it look? How does it work? All things missing and again it'll just leave the reader scratching their head because you passed over stuff they want answered. To begin with, a bellowphone is already set up. And it involves more than a few pipes. Bellowphones are rather comical. You miss all that and it makes the bellowphone no more interesting or important than a cell phone when in all actuality it's very bizarre and would turn more than a few heads. So ultimately there's no point in even mentioning a bellowphone cause you'll just end up confusing & frustrating your readers.
I don't think anyone reading that will think that Leonard is naked. The only clothes mentioned in the excerpt, which I'll repeat: is the cloth cap that Leonard's wearing. Looking at classic and professionally published fiction (I did take quite some time to read a variety of different types of fiction from different eras), this level of detail is certainly very common. Authors will include details essential to the plot (as in the clothes of the character you describe), but frequently may not mention clothes at all in many cases. I've thought about your post, have watched your youtube video, and took some time out to read some shorter professionally written fiction to look at the level of detail that is provided. I assure you that I have taken your post seriously, but I don't agree with it. Yes, any short bit of prose is not going to include all details of anything, e.g. from the short excerpt we don't know what it sounds like. But, just the look of it in the context, Sadie's reaction to it, and that Leonard uses it in a one man band act at village shows does, I believe, already mark it out as something quite different and more interesting than a mobile phone. Some people may not know what an organ pipe is, but I don't think it's possible to give an explanation of that. Some people might not get it, but I don't think it's sensible to give the amount of detail required to make sure that everyone gets everything. I don't think that there is any need to describe what the bellow phone sounds like during the initial meeting. If the story continued, there would be ample opportunity to introduce what it actually sounds like at a later point. Just that it is a noisy looking thing is, in my opinion, enough description given the context of that intended-to-be introductory scene. EDIT: Looking at the beginnings of the novels short-listed for the Booker prize, several of them aren't typical third person POVs. Of those that are, e.g. "A Spool of Blue Thread" by Anne Tyler, there is some description, but not a huge amount of it. In "The Year of the Runaways" by Sunjeev Sahota there is description, but not huge amounts. It's almost as if the author had decided how long the description should be before switching to something else, e.g. dialogue. There are equal sized bits of description, followed by the something elses. "A Little Lie" by Hanya Yanagaihara similar. Quite sparse descriptions of rooms and clothes before the dialogue starts. And it's interesting to note how much action there is included in the text in these books. At least in the early bits that I can see via 'Look Inside' on Amazon.
Just as a vote, the "Sadie had always been sensitive to noise...." example works just fine for me. I think that it tells me just enough about what a bellowphone is--and I had never heard of one before this discussion.
It's a highly subjective topic. Clearly looking at the stuff that "we" are writing, there's a great variety in what people aim for in terms of prose style. The same applies to the Booker Prize shortlist too! I used the more typical 'literature' examples in my post, but there is considerable prose style diversity.
Do you know what, when I look at all the authors I consider great: Steinbeck, Eco, Dostoyevsky, Peake... none of them write in that horrible choppy, sparse "inside the MCs head" Dan Brown style. The more I muse this subject the more that I kinda reject what is the accepted standard for modern commercial fiction.
Yeah. A lot of it may be very accomplished when it comes to brevity and meticulous word choice, but it also leaves me cold. It's clinical storytelling. Where's the heart? I think that's missing a lot these days, even from books that win major literary prizes.
I feel the urge to discuss Rumer Godden in this context, but I suspect that there may not be any posters in this thread that have read her work? I would say that she definitely fits the description "meticulous word choice"--and I realize that you're presumably not saying that that's the bad part but just that it doesn't excuse the other sins?--but I'm not sure about the brevity. Random examples: From The Greengage Summer: Every evening when he had finished his work Willmouse put his things away: his box of scraps, his sewing-box, Miss Dawn and Dolores, and their new confections; then he tidied himself, which was only a form because he was always tidy--even his scarecrows managed to be neat; he would wash his face and hands, sleek down his hair with his private bottle of eau-de-Cologne and, like any old gentleman, go for a little walk. A new barge, the Marie France 47, had anchored above the cove; he liked to walk up and look at that. (BTW, Willmouse is a small child.) From Home is the Sailor On some days the team learned how to sail. Then they went further out into the estuary where it was rougher still and Big Sam gave Bertrand the tin at once. 'You'll get used to it,' said Big Sam, but Bertrand thought he never would and indeed he chucked the mackerel every morning. The weather was cold and grey; spray flew in their faces, and their hands were almost too cold to hold the ropes. Bertrand's hands were hard from playing tennis but he had never known anything as stiff and slippery as those ropes in the wind and his beautifully kept nails broke, his palms blistered, and his skin was chapped and raw with cold. Among other things, this provides a very small example of Rumer Godden's habit of including quotes as part of the narrative. Her actual conversation is conventional new-paragraph-per-speaker, but she also uses quotes as just another part of a scene, and then they don't get their own paragraphs. Another, more extreme version of that odd quote-handling, from the same book: 'But we don't want you to learn English, Frog,' said Sparrer. 'We want you to teach us French.' 'I don't believe,' said Bertrand. 'We really do.' He looked at them suspiciously but their faces were bland and smiling. 'It's such an opportunity,' said one. He did not say it like a boy but as a girl would say it, and Bertrand was more sure than ever that they were mocking him. 'Please to leave me,' he said again; but they protested. 'We do. We really do,' and someone seized the boy who had spoken by the neck, and bent him over, smacked his bottom, and pulled his ears. 'We're bored, Froggy,' they said. 'Teach us French.' What's my point here? I guess, where do these fall in the wordiness scale? (Edited to add: They're supposed to have indented paragraphs, but I can't figure out how to make that stick.)
(my emphasis) I really love that phrase. Even his scarecrows managed to be neat. Oh how I wish I could come up with lines like that. Overall, I love the amount of detail here and the words she uses. ??? seem to have lost the indenting here. By comparison, this seems less interesting to me. It seems to be be straightforward prose, with only a few details. E.g. 'his beautifully kept nails broke'. The weather is 'cold and grey'. Hands are 'hard from playing tennis'. I don't like purple prose, but IMHO this is too far in the other direction and needs some literary cleverness. Of course, it may work much better in context. Looking at the top quote, the last few sentences are vanilla. But, with the much more effective images in the first half of that paragraph, that works for me. BTW: this is not meant to be a critique, just a discussion I'm reading a lot of short fiction at the moment. I'd say that there's plenty of stuff around with heart, but also a lot that is technical/clinical. There's so much stuff being published, that it's possible to find what you want. Except that may take some searching.
It's been a long LONG time since I've read anything I wanted to read again. I remember years ago loving books so much that I read them over and over. Not any more, really. The only fiction I've read recently and then read again were a few of Terry Pratchett's and Joe Abercrombie's First Law trilogy and a couple of Kage Baker's Company stories and River stories. And I'll read these books again in future as well. I don't know if it's me getting jaded, or simply that so much modern fiction just doesn't have that 'something' that makes me want to read it twice.
Ah! Yes, context. This is interesting. See, those details shine bright for me, and the fact that they aren't a big deal for you makes me realize that the value of this sample comes mostly from the context that comes before it. If the writing about hard uncomfortable work had been about a big, strong, accomplished workman, the reader would say, "And? So?" The details probably would have been a waste of space. If it had been about a frail little old lady, forced to do that hard uncomfortable work, the reader would be shocked, and the details about the cold and the ropes would have more impact. In this case, it's about Bertrand, who is is a very, very proud boy, well-accomplished and with no capability whatsoever for humility. So when I read that paragraph, the broken nails remind me of Bertrand's intense pride in his appearance; I know that those nails will be a deep, sustained humiliation for him. When I read about the tennis-hard hands, I'm reminded that all of Bertrand's physical efforts before now have been about proud competition--competitions that he almost always won--and that now he is working hard under someone else's orders. The discomfort is a big deal because Bertrand has very, very rarely been the least bit uncomfortable. Even the "Bertrand had never known anything as slippery..." looks back to the fact that Bertrand has always known everything, and has mastered everything, before anyone in his circle. Another sample, as French Bertrand settles into the home of his English aunt and uncle, to which he has been sent because his own family needs a break from him. This is before he was sent to Sea School, and this sort of thing is a large part of the reason why. 'My dear Aunt, zat is not ze way to make an omelette. Une omelette ca ne se fait pas come ca, voyons! Je vais vows montrer. I will show you.' 'There are ways and ways of making an omelette,' said his aunt. 'Ma façon ce's la bonne. My way is best. I will show you,' said Bertrand firmly. His eldest cousin was learning photography and was making a still of flowers with lights and a gauze. 'Mais non, pa come ca! Not like zat!' (He took beautiful photographs.) 'I'm making an experiment,' said his cousin, and 'It's my experiment,' she cried as his hands came to take the camera. 'I will show you a better way,' said Bertrand and took the camera. So the shipboard scene is a contrast, and depending on the reader's empathy for the know-it-all, we may wince for him, or we may celebrate that it serves him right.
