Robin Black Reveals What Readers Want!

 Short story writer, Robin Black has no patience for two common rules of her genre

1. Start in the middle of the action and

2. Don’t include anything that’s not absolutely necessary to the story.

Rule #1

She busted this rule by pointing out the obvious. In the beginning of a story, the writer knows everything and the reader knows nothing. In that situation, the reader doesn’t want to be confused by being in the middle of some action that makes no immediate sense.  What the reader wants is something simple to grasp onto while the story unfolds bit by bit. What’s more, when a story starts simply, the author signals control—an absence of anxiety—that comes across as authority adding to the reader’s comfort level. Always err on the side of simplicity and clarity, she advised.

Rule #2

This one went down to personal preference. Put simply, Black likes ragged edges because they deepen a story. Mentioning losses such as a dead father or a failed earlier marriage without necessarily relating that information to the current story adds dimension. She thinks all stories need to be haunted with larger elements because all human interactions are complicated by our losses and our fears. Readers know that. They knew that the incident that is the focus of the short story is really part of a larger on-going life. Giving them glimpses of that larger background adds to the overall effect. A concise story can be shallow—all surface. Unnecessary details open a story and let it breathe.

The Event:

Invited to Denver in May as Lighthouse Writers inaugural Fly-By Writers’ Project, Black held a daylong workshop entitled “What Do Readers Want and Why Do They Want It?” I attended having been awarded a 2011 CAL Writer Grant for that purpose. Before going, I was aware of Black’s collection of short stories, If I Loved You, I Would Tell You This, but was even more intrigued by her workshop title. If she can really answer the question of what readers want, I mused. And I wasn’t disappointed.

She started the day asking three questions of three assigned short stories—one being Raymond Carver’s “Cathedral.”

• What is the story about?
• What is the story REALLY about?
• No, REALLY, what is the story about?

The answer to the first question was the surface events of the story. The second question gets at the story problem and the relationships between the characters. The third question is the key—the core of why a reader will want to read the story and might come away with the story permanently lodged in memory. If you can’t answer the third question, you need to rework the story until that part emerges. Black means “emerge.” She encouraged her students to look for symbols in early drafts that you might not notice with your intellect. “You subconscious is smarter than you are,” she advised. “Approach revision like dream analysis.”

Separate from the workshop, that doesn’t make immediate sense. Let me offer an example that wasn’t part of the class but might be universal enough to get the main point across. Take The Wizard of Oz. The story is about a young girl who gets caught in a tornado, lands in a strange place, and needs to find her way back home. On the second level, it’s about running away from your problems, meeting people who may or may not help, and finding that running away is not the answer—there’s no place like home. On the third level, the story is about the fact that Dorothy didn’t need the Wizard of Oz or anyone else. She always had the power to go home.

Memoir Writers Take Note:

Black also offered advice to memoir writers saying that when a reader picks up a book and it’s mostly about you, the reader will immediately wonder why he/she should care. That means the “quality of mattering” has to be strong. In other words, the answers to her three questions have to go really-really deep.

Conclusion:

Black believes that the satisfaction we get from reading is primal and relates to larger, deeper issues and surprises. Ideally the reader should react with “huh?” and then a feeling that he/she never saw that coming or never thought about things in quite that way. In order for a writer to provide that level of satisfaction, you have to believe you have something to say. And whether or not you have something to say is never the judgment of someone else, especially not writing teachers. Black firmly believes “the job of a writing teacher is to make her students more excited about writing. “ By her own definition, Robin Black is a writing teacher.

Entrances, Mine and My Character’s

A few minutes ago, I ran to the grocery store without checking to see if my hair was combed. I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew and, of course, I did . . .

I’m not that sloppy when it comes to introducing a new character to the story, especially the main character. Problem is, writers discover their characters as they write. We learn as we go, which is why most of us go back and rework those entrances repeatedly until they finally seem right . . .

We meet my main character, Sheriff Samantha Nielsen, on a median strip in the middle of the Los Angeles 405 freeway where her husband died a few days earlier. Why that particular place? Because it allows the motorcycle cop who discovers her to tell us what we need to know:

He studied her a moment. On the surface she looked the typical California girl, a pretty blond with blue-eyes and a tan, but the attitude was wrong. California girls sought out therapists, grief counselors, or gurus. They didn’t wander into the middle of a freeway hoping to figure it out by themselves.

Minor characters need entrances for a different reason. Because we don’t know a lot about them, we need to give the reader something memorable that will remind them later in the story when they meet the character again, exactly who they are. Sometimes this is called a “hook.” Actors refer to it as “a bit of business.” Here’s the catch–a hook is as hard to write as the main character’s entrance. With the main character, you continue to build who and what and why they are important to the story. A minor character needs to be captured in a complete snapshot–not easy, but a fun challenge.

Current update on book: Writing is on hold while I finish the writing project blogged at http://jerriehurd.wordpress.com

Writer’s Block: Cat Got Your Tongue?

Nobody seems to know where this expression came from and there is no logic to it. Same can be said for those moments when the writing is just not moving forward.

Lack of discipline–no. Lack of ideas–no. Lack of lines on the page–yes.

My theory–the subconscious isn’t happy. Something is not working and your deep-down brain is trying to tell you that. Don’t try to go forward. Fix it first. The only way round writer’s block, is to go back and rethink things. That’s another way of saying, I’m back at page one right now!!!!!

I Think I’ll Write A Novel . . .

Evidently that’s not a new thought. This video made me laugh because it was obviously done by someone who knows the pitfalls.
Enjoy.
Pause.
Enjoy again because you gotta have a sense of humor about this business.

 

PROGRESS REPORT: Had three interesting interviews this week. Research or what you do to avoid the actual writing. You all know how that goes.

Write Slow Scenes Fast and Fast Scenes Slow

It’s counter-intuitive but works every time. For a fast-paced story, you skip through the slow scenes, picking only a few details to share with the reader to keep things moving along. Then when you get to the action, slow down, take your time, fill-in as much detail as possible allowing the reader to savor every moment of what’s happening.

Pick up any fast-paced novel and check it out. I’m willing to bet the in-between scenes are short and punchy, the actions scenes are long and detailed.

Here’s the catch, it’s often harder to write the short, punchy in-between scenes than the action scenes. Picking the right few details to make an in-between scene seem full without letting it bog down the story can require more effort (read rewrites) than the action scenes which can be more forgiving because you have more room to just let the words flow.

Progress Report: I’ve been doing interviews, researching details, etc.

What’s On My Desk

Clutter.

You know what they say about a creative mind (you have to let it muck around until the magic happens), but I have another excuse. I’m still settling into this space after moving a few months ago from Albuquerque to Boulder, Colorado and finishing up a huge remodeling job. If that sounds like an excuse for not writing, no one needs an excuse. Writing is a discipline that ranks right up with there with diet and exercise as something that requires consistent application of effort that never, never gets any easier.

I’m half way through Richard Russo‘s novel Mohawk. Not a new book, but one I’ve wanted to read for awhile. I admire the way he handles dialogue and captures small town America. Next up and sitting right beside my keyboard–Steven Hall’s The Raw Shark Texts because it is new and being described as experimental. I’m not an experimental writer, but I do like to pay attention to what is out there on the leading edge. Doesn’t strike me as smart to write a book that sounds dated before it hits the bookstores. In other words, reading widely is part of the process . . .

Clutter, too. You have to make a mess before you make sense . . .

More Women Read Novels Than Men–Why?

Mario Vargos Llosa won the Nobel Prize for Literature today. My favorite from him is an elegant essay on why reading is not likely to die anytime soon. He also addresses the feminization of reading and literature. Interesting stuff from a favorite author. Check it out: http://www.uwec.edu/pnotesbd/Llosa_article.htm

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You have to begin someplace . . .

John Irving is the shock-jock of novel openings. He usually begins with a scene that is both wildly imaginative and usually sexual. I’m tempted to think that he’s also self-selecting his readers. If you’re not easily offended, you read on. Otherwise, you don’t. Margaret Atwood is more-or-less the opposite. She opens well, but not fast. You read on because you trust her voice and know it will get richer as you go.

That said, none of us, not even Irving and Atwood, start well. We simply put words on the screen, knowing they’ll change. Openings are rewritten more than any other part of a novel because you’re working so hard to get them right, meaning the tone, the right bits of information that draw the reader in but don’t drown the reader with too many facts, too fast, etc. etc.

My current juggling of words has resulted in the opening that I have under the sample pages tab. It will change, but for now, that’s where I’m going to begin . . .