Author Archives: Gregory D. Little

Mischief Managed!

What a month it’s been! Do you feel the same giddy thrill I do, freshly equipped to break the rules as you are? But I have a confession. You see, in teaching you how to break the rules, we’ve been exposing  you to a refresher on the rules themselves. I hope you don’t mind the ulterior motive. Because, you see, you shouldn’t break the rules unless you do so knowingly, understanding them inside and out and why they must sometimes be broken. You may think you’re special. You may think the rules don’t apply to you. And every so often, you may be right. But, like drinking, rule-breaking should be done responsibly, and this month’s excellent crop of posts have gone a long way in teaching you to do just that!

Special thanks as always go to our guest posters, new and old. Though I haven’t done the math, we may have had a record number this past month, and without that fresh blood, we couldn’t bring our readers the consistent quality of posts we strive for. Your enthusiasm and eagerness are inspirations to all of us regulars.

Next up is April, where Mary will take us through conflict. I’d say it sounds like an explosive theme, but I detest puns. Enjoy, readers! See you next time!

Shifting Tense

Bakker_EyeConsistency is one of the great universally desirable qualities. Think how many times in your life you’ve heard a variant on the phrase “pick an approach and be consistent.” Your leadership style at work? Be consistent. Parenting? Be consistent. In your wacky fantasy world where swords use people as weapons in duels? Hey, as long as it’s internally consistent, you can probably make it work.

And there’s one law of writing consistency few will challenge, the consistency of tense within a given story. Whether an author prefers third or first person, multiple protagonists or just one, they will generally pick either present or past tense and stick with it. And it makes sense to do so. The story’s tense is one of those bedrock elements of a story, so integral that people won’t even notice when it is done properly. But have you ever seen a piece of writing, maybe at work, where the author had trouble sticking to one tense? It’s jarring, right? It screams “bad writing” at you in every way.

But there are ways to make a tense switch work, particularly when your goal is highlighting the inner world of a character. Sometimes you might want to jar the reader and force them to notice the scaffolding of words the story is built upon.

R. Scott Bakker writes primarily epic fantasy in the “grimdark” model. His major work, The Second Apocalypse, is made up of a pair of trilogies, The Prince of Nothing and The Aspect Emperor. Early in The Judging Eye, volume one of The Aspect Emperor, a character named Mimara is introduced as a major POV. Mimara shares major POV duties with three other characters. But while the rest of the POVs (and all the POVs in the first trilogy) are told in past tense, Mimara’s sections are relayed exclusively in present tense.

It’s incredibly jarring the first time you encounter it, and I’ll be honest when I say that I didn’t like the choice initially. It made Mimara’s sections seem as if they came from a different book entirely, which is the big danger in switching tense.

But the further into the series I’ve read, the more I like the decision. While all of Bakker’s characters are haunted by tragic pasts, Mimara’s story is singularly tragic. Sold into slavery as a child, Mimara spent most of her life utterly devoid of hope. Finally free from that slavery in the time of the books, she now does everything she can not to dwell in the past she’s left behind. When I got to thinking about it that way, she was a character who’d never had a future and who dares not dwell in her past. Writing her in the present tense started to seem like the only thing that would make sense.

The choice gives Mimara’s sections an immediacy the other POVs lack. She possesses a lifetime of hard-won instincts attuned to detect the slightest hints of danger, so she is constantly on the lookout for threats to her freedom. Present tense also serves to highlight the mental scarring her past has left her, giving her inner voice a frenzied quality lacked by the other POVs with their more stately past tense voice. Lastly, the choice serves to underline her inherent isolation. For when it turns out she possesses an ability unique in the series else she becomes a character even more apart from the world she lives in.

Whether or not all this was the author’s mindset when he made the choice to go with present tense, I can’t say. But it made me think more about the character and what he was trying to say about her, and so I would call the experiment a success.

It helps that the tense shift was used in a controlled fashion. There is no shifting of tense within the same Mimara’s sections, and since the books are written in third-person limited, there is no shifting of POV within the same section. That’s the internal consistency thing I mentioned back at the top of the post. This demonstrates to the reader that “hey, I’m not doing this because I don’t know how to write, I’m doing this deliberately so maybe you should stop and consider why.”

This example remains the exception and not the rule, and that’s all to the good I think. Shifting tenses within stories remains a technique that should be approached with extreme care. There are more ways to do it wrong than right. But, handled properly, the shocking nature of the shift itself can be used to powerful effect.

 

The Code Is More What You’d Call Guidelines Than Actual Rules

My buddy Captain Barbossa may have said it best in the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie, but there is another, even older saying that everyone will know: “Rules were made to be broken.”

That goes for the rules of writing as well. I once heard an author say that you had to prove you understand the rules of writing before you’re allowed to break them. Throughout the month of March here at Fictorians, we’re going to cover the whole shebang. Each post will list one of the rules of writing, explain why that rule exists, and then, your mastery of the rule assumed, jump straight into reasons why it might be a good idea to break that rule every now and then.

But that’s not all! In addition to Kristin’s excellent monthly theme all about love and writing, February brought us the 2015 edition of the Superstars Writing Seminar which several lucky Fictorians were able to attend. What that means for you readers is you’ll be seeing a lot of guest posts this month, fresh faces and old favorites threaded in between the regulars. It’s going to be an exciting month. Join us as we dive into breaking the rules. Come on, you know you want to. Everyone’s doing it.

Subverting the Meet Cute

Everyone remember the classic “What is Love?” by Haddaway (and of course, its star-making turn on SNL)? If so, sorry about getting it stuck in your head, but I’m using it to illustrate a point. When we consume fiction, be it in book, TV or movie form, love stories tend to follow very predictable, repeatable patterns. Just like the song’s beats and lyrics, we can see the same basic tropes play out over and over and over again.

And there’s a reason. Much like the song, these kinds of stories are catchy, satisfying in a particular way. We go into them expecting something to happen, and then it does. Two people meet, they fall for each other, some sort of conflict arises when one member of the relationship wrongs the other in some way, but at the end they realize they are meant to be together and all is forgiven.

That’s the romantic comedy variant, but if you pay attention you chart the different variants across any genre you care to name. They’re predictable as clockwork. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. The reason certain plot structures survive in fiction long enough to become tropes is that on some fundamental level, they just work. We find them pleasing. In this case, they depict a world where a person can find true love and retain it, even if they make some mistakes along the way. What concept is more appealing than that?

Of course, we all know it doesn’t always work this way in the real world. In my ever-present quest to inject more reality into fiction, I humbly submit that we should take the time to break out of romantic tropes. Maybe the wronged party refuses to forgive the hero and moves on to find happiness with another (or alone). Maybe the hero or heroine is never able to attract the interest of their unrequited love at all, and has to learn to let go of idealized interpretations of love before they can grow as a character.

You notice anything about those examples? At first glance, they all tend to be more pessimistic than the tropes they subvert. But I would disagree. The stock love stories we’ve all grown up on paint an unrealistic depiction of what real-world love means to most people. Think about it. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Are you serious? That’s crazy talk!

And even though they are pleasing to imagine, we shouldn’t assume that everyone wants to read stories about idealized, unconditional love all the time. If someone is suffering through a difficult breakup or even a divorce, they may not want to read a story about how true love is preordained and unbreakable. Maybe what will help them most is a story about how fleshed out, three dimensional characters who behave like real people tried to make it work and couldn’t for whatever reason. I guarantee you that while such a story might not be a warm fuzzy, a lot of readers will be able to identify with it.

The bottom line is this: love story tropes depict idealized love as we would like it to be, if you ignore the fact that the people such stories involved wouldn’t be in any way real. But love stories that focus more on character than tropes will do a better job of depicting love as it happens to real people. And when the most important key to hooking a reader is getting them to identify with a character, maybe that’s something we as writers should be trying to do more often.

“What is love?” indeed.