Where am I?!
Unsolicited writing advice du jour
One of the interesting side-effects of actively writing fiction over the past few years is that’s it’s changed the way I read other people’s (published) work. If there are too many confusing sentences or “who’s talking now?” moments, little things that kick me out of the story, I’m liable to quit, because I’d rather train my brain on The Best rather than The OK.
Today’s unsolicited writing advice is based on my current recreational read. Other people might like this person’s style, and that’s fine. When characters have a long conversation, the dialogue is naturally the most important thing. That said, several pages of unrelieved dialogue can cause problems for me. For example. I just picked up where I’d left off 24 hours earlier in a nice novella. The bookmark was in the middle of a conversation between the protagonist and a new character. After a few lines I realized I couldn’t remember who this new person was or where the heck we were. Why? I’ve read plenty of novels chock full of long conversations. I don’t need attributions for every line of dialogue, especially between just two people, but I had to flip back to the beginning of the scene to find out who the new person was and where this scene was taking place.
About a week ago I read another piece of fiction that I gave up on altogether, because the writer seemed to have taken the “dialogue is the seasoning in a good story” advice to heart in a big way. Lots of dialogue. Not much scene-setting or narration. A lot of lines could have been interior monologues. It felt like reading a stage play. There was so little description of the environment, the actions of the characters, and what was actually happening in the action scenes, that I couldn’t immerse myself.
Why do I not run into this problem with, say, James Blaylock or Tim Powers or Sharyn McCrumb? Because experienced writers sprinkle in little bits of other things to keep the reader grounded in that world. Whether the scene is in an especially noteworthy place like the Eiffel Tower or Niagra Falls, or just some fictitious character’s Aunt Edna’s sitting room, the reader will probably have an easier time with location retention if the writer occasionally reinforces it. It’s as easy as having your protagonist notice something with one of their five senses. At Niagra Falls the characters may have to shout over the ambient noise. Miss Protagonist can shiver in the cold mist or have to take off her glasses and wipe them clear at some point. Is the conversation in Aunt Edna’s sitting room a bit stilted? There can be a pause where Mr. Protagonist glances around the room nervously, noticing the ticking of the mantel clock and the smell of the roast in the oven.
There’s no need to be heavy handed, just offer little clues that keep the scene grounded and also make the setting more real. These things help immerse us in the scene. Anyway, the best advice I can give for becoming a better writer is ultimately going to be the same every time: read good books and program your brain to do this naturally.
For a good example of a story that does this well, check out the “YA” novel “Tide Runners,” by Marie-Hélène Lebeault. I just started it the other day and am really enjoying it.