TECH: Writing Belongs to...

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

original posting: Tue, 2 Nov 1993 18:00:07 JST

[YET ANOTHER UNREWARDING ASSAY FOR YOUR DEFERENCE!]

Several times recently I have suggested that the reader is correct in their interpretation of writing, no matter what the intent of the writer was. I realized that I skipped rather quickly over the thinking behind that, and I'd like to take a few moments of your time to expand on this point, since I consider it critical, and rather painful, for writers.

Let me try a "gedanken" experiment. Suppose that we have two people, and we show them two things (objects, processes, actions, whatever - the exact real-world items are unimportant to the experiment. For convenience, let us label them "the lady" and "the tyger". Do not be confused by these labels, though, the items could be anything.)

Now, for the purposes of our experiment, let the white-haired tech tell them that they are only allowed to call these two things "alpha" and "omega". "Alpha" is "the lady", and "omega" is "the tyger". They both signal agreement with this (a firm headshake from Alice, and an uncertain "I think I got it" from George).

Next, George is placed in a room with two doors (have you heard this story before?). Behind one is "the lady" and behind the other is "the tyger".

Alice can see what is behind the doors, and is able to open either door with a remote control. (is this boring?)

Now we ask George to name what he wants. He thinks hard, scratches the back of his head, and says, "omega".

Alice, unfortunately, cannot see the poor boy's intentions. All she has to go by is his word. If she believes him, trusting that he spoke in truth, well, there will be one less experimental subject. So should she discard his word?

Well, my gedanken says she might ask questions, kick the tech in the shins for conducting an unethical experiment (imagine penning up that poor tyger in the middle of this mess!), or otherwise break out of the experimental protocol. Worse than that, the experiment isn't a terribly good model for writing, except in that tygers wait for poorly chosen words...

Given the multi-ordinal (many, many little meanings hanging on each word) nature of writing, and the sometimes slow and difficult to see ways of questioning it, in most cases the reader is forced to rely on the words and that interpretation of them that they find in themselves. The writer's intentions, background, etc. may be different in significant ways, but, sadly, they are irrelevant to the reader.

Or perhaps my point will be clearer with a tiny diagram:

     context 1
[ writer's mind ]
      notion 1
       words ---->------> words -----> -----> words
                                              notion 2
                                            [ reader's mind ]
                                              context 2

What goes from writer to reader is a bunch of words. That's all. The context, intentions, hopes, dreams, and other parts that tied it all together disappear along the way... What the reader tries to do is reconstruct that, using that bunch of words and their own context.

Heck, I'm surprised we ever manage to communicate!

In talking, we use words plus a rather amazing set of additional channels (body language, intonation, eye contact, etc.) Some studies have estimated (don't ask me how they measure it) that the "other channels" may carry up to 90 percent of the content of human communications.

Further, there is feedback - immediate and fairly constant - to help two people communicate in that situation.

In writing, even such writing as we do here on the list, we have lost almost all the "other channels." The amount of feedback is reduced, and the inherent delay in receiving what little is available, both operate to make this a difficult medium for effective, smooth communications.

Printed writing - you may never hear from a reader. Indeed, your writing may go to readers separated so far from you in space and time that they cannot respond even if they wanted to. "Messages in bottles" indeed!

So - provide your reader with context. I still remember the rather stupid sounding commandment to "Tell your reader what they are going to read, tell it to them, then tell them what they just read."

In fiction, of course, we prefer to show, rather than tell. I find myself reminded of the number of television shows that start with an incredibly short "teaser" that sets the stage for the main action, and the almost invariant "trailer" where the main characters are reminded of the main action. A teaser that makes you laugh is a good lead-in for a comic show, and a trailer can also be useful in reminding the audience of what they have seen.

Let me stop pounding the point home, and see if there are any questions or comments? Yes, you can get up now...

(don't the writer's intentions count for anything?)

<SNORT>

Of course, the writer's intentions in writing a piece are important! Without them, there would be no piece. But when you let go of it, all the reader gets are the words. Make sure your message is in them, not just stuck in your head, and pray that it strikes the same sparks in the reader.

Now, your assignment for next week follows. Analyze and provide examples of the following:

From my hearth to yours,
A tiny candleflame,
Making both fires roar joyfully,
And warmth our partner,
In trade.

(incidentally, in case you're still puzzled, George, having been raised in the jungle, correctly recognized that he was far safer with a tyger in his tank than being tempted by the wily lady, so he did intend what he said. Now whose context more accurately matched the situation? George's, Alice's, or your's, dear reader in crime?)

may your thoughts be fertile and green
------] (with a hoe! hoe, hoe!)

TECH: The Third Bar Rule

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

original posting: Fri, 12 Mar 1993 17:05:01 JST

Practically every book on writing fiction comes out strongly against coincidence. Sometimes they'll suggest that you can get away with using one coincidence to set up a conflict, but after that, you're on forbidden territory.

A very bad book I read used it everywhere - to establish the conflicts, to complicate them, and even to resolve them. Everything "just happened" to work, making the plot a farce, at best. Unfortunately, the author didn't have the humor of "A Hithchiker's Guide to the Galaxy" or other socially redeeming qualities to make me accept this style.

However, one of the scenes reminded me of a similar scene in another book - except that one worked, while this one made me (figuratively) throw up my hands in disgust and discard any pretense of suspending disbelief. To salvage something from my waste of time, I tried comparing the two scenes to see what was different.

In both, the protagonist wandered into a bar where they coincidentally met the people needed to move the story further. The descriptions of the bar, the people, etc. while different, were both reasonably good. Still, one was believable, one wasn't. What was different?

After careful review, I realized the key difference. The one that didn't work started out "The bar was...". The one that worked started out "The third bar was...". One little word, "third", made all the difference - and was difficult to notice.

What does that "third" do? Very simply, it turns the "coincidence" into a result of the protagonist's action - it isn't the first place they walk into that "happens" to have the right people, it's the third one. A tiny difference, but it's enough to take the edge off the "chance meeting" the author is about to introduce.

Without the "third", it may be a surprise to the reader that these people "just happen" to be in the bar (unless you set it up ahead of time - something either book might have done, although both protagonists were improvising at this point in the plots, which would have made such a setup difficult to believe). The only things that belong in the first bar you visit should be things the reader would expect in any bar.

With the "third", the reader smoothly assumes that the protagonist has been looking hard, and now we're going to see something useful or important. So meeting the people in the bar isn't chance - we've been looking, and now we're running into someone (or something) that will help. With the "third", the bar can have exactly what you need to get the plot on track again - since you've looked for it, and found it.

So, when your character needs a "long shot" chance to keep the plot moving, remember the third bar rule. The fifth locker, the fourth cabby, the sixth interview - your character _can_ find what they need to find, but let the reader know they had to look for it!

Or, to paraphrase a common cliche - In fiction, when you look for something, it should NEVER be in the first place you look. It'll be in the third bar, waiting for you to find it.

Scruples, Anyone?

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

It must be time for an exercise or two. Let's see . . .

Nothing up my sleeves, although I do have a deck of cards from the game "A Question of Scruples" handy. So pick a number from one to six. Yes, you can roll dice, look at the clock and divide by 10, or whatever method of enumeration you prefer, just pick a number.

You have chosen:

1. As a lawyer, do you defend someone whom you know is guilty of a vicious rape?
2. You own a seafood restaurant. A small supplier contracts to provide you with shrimp cheaply. The cost of shrimp increases significantly. Do you insist on your price even if it means putting him out of business?
3. You have been attending classes all year. An acquaintance, who rarely shows up, asks to photocopy your notes. Do you consent?
4. You are planning to quit in five months when your company gives you a high-paying management job. If you still intend to quit, do you tell your boss now?
5. Friends have let you into a long movie line prompting a growl from someone behind. A friend of yours comes by and wants in. Do you let him in?
6. Your teenage daughter is dating a fellow of another color. Do you encourage her to date guys of her own race? (feel free to switch sexes, causes of discrimination, and so on to suit your story)

So there you have a small dilemma of scruples. Your task, should you choose to accept it, is to wrap up this short statement in characters and scenery and such. Set the stage, then walk that problem right into your character's lives. Make solving it expensive and hard and very very important. And then let them grasp the nettle and make a decision, accepting the results whatever they may be.

Write.

When we write, we help others imagine.