Exposition, especially in genre, can be
the real killer. Exposition means explanatory writing, like an
essay or newspaper article. You've done a lot of research or
drafted a new world from scratch. You want to share it with the
reader. Also, in order for the resolution of the work to make
sense, the reader needs to know all kinds of things about the
characters' back stories and the world they live in, the
vital cultural or mythic details that the climax may hinge on.
As
the author, you need to find ways to deliver all of this
information. Before you just drop in a few paragraphs (or even
one) where you explain anything to the reader, ask if there is a
better way.
First of all, your reader may not need
that much in order to enjoy the world and the story you are about
to tell. The plight of a nation is only compelling when you care
about a character involved in the fight—so just writing a few
paragraphs of history is unlikely to engage the reader, whereas
showing the princess running through her ancestral home, grabbing
the two treasures she can carry before escaping gives the reader a
reason to wonder. Snip the history into little
nibbles you can disperse when the reader really wants to
know. And make those two treasures not only extraordinary, but
culturally significant—your description can serve double-duty.
It's much more fun to discover a place by moving through it
with the character. Give enough setting to let the reader get a
picture of the place.
Instead of telling lots of things about the
place, create scenes that will give you the opportunity to show
what the place is like and how people are there. You might think
of it as a mystery: certain clues need to be planted.
You also
need some number of red herrings, in this case, the cool stuff
about the world or the character that won't actually develop into
plot points. If you need the reader to know that white is the
color of death in this nation, give a glimpse of a funeral or
graveyard.
Back story is a particular kind of exposition that is often
given too much attention. It should be informing your character's
actions, not overshadowing them. Again, the reader doesn't need to
know a lot about someone she's just met: she needs to get to know
the character, to become engaged in the character's goals and
problems, before the back story is entertaining. When I say that
the back story "informs" the actions, I mean that it influences
behavior, manner of speech and appearance, and relationships, even
if you haven't specified what the back story is.
For instance, if
you want the reader to know that your character used to be
royalty, but is now in hiding, you might give her clothes that are
too nice for her surroundings, let her dialog be regal, her
manners impeccable—to the point where the peasants around her
think she's putting on airs.
In particular, pay attention to the emotional context of back
story. The child abandoned by his parents at an early age will
have different responses to family dynamics than the one raised in
a happy household. You could spend maudlin paragraphs describing
an unhappy childhood, or you could show a brief interaction where
the character seethes with envy when selling a toy to a cheerful
mother and grateful child.
When you consider shifting the pace of your work, especially a
novel, examine the weighting of scenes. That means the amount of
attention given to any particular moment, either by you the
author, or by the character experiencing that moment.
Look at how
many pages the scene takes versus what actually happens in the
scene. How much progress is made in the plot? What character
details are discovered? How important is the conversation that
takes place?
It is often the fault of the novelist that we get
wrapped up in something that is fun (or difficult) to write, or we
enjoy certain types of scenes or think them necessary to the
story—and we end up inflating a minor event such that it takes on
great importance in the mind of the reader. Later on, the reader
feels disgruntled because they spent all this time with something that was only slightly relevant.
For fantasy writers, this often means setting or cultural
detail. We lavish our love on research and world-building, then
give the reader a grand tour of the city—a city that turns out to
be merely a place where the characters spend the night, never to
return. If you have a setting with high coolness value, make it
work in the book: set your important moments there, or even
discover things about the setting that can lend significance to
the story you want to tell.
Worse than the extended scenes that don't advance the plot are
abbreviated ones that do. Too often, important moments that have
been built up to or that contain compelling emotional resonance
are given short shift, handled in summary, off the page, or
whisked away in witty dialog. Indulge the richness of your
language, your enthusiasm for character and setting by enhancing
the scenes that really matter: big turning points, climactic
meetings, moments of revelation when the character has to absorb a
life-changing event.
What are the most exciting, most
heartfelt, most catastrophic moments in your book? How many
pages are they given? How clearly is their impact felt
through the protagonist? It's possible to create a short
scene (less author attention) but give it weight through the impact on the character, and its on-going importance to that
character.
If you have emotional resonances or relationships that will
grow with time, you may not want the first mention to be very
long, calling too much attention to itself, but you want it to
feel important. Ground it firmly in your character's point of
view. Look for an image or phrase that you might refer back to
later, when you want the reader to recall this small, but significant moment.
One special tool in the novelist's toolbox is the chapter
break. How you open and close chapters creates the rhythm of the
work and has a great effect on the reader. All too often,
beginning writers start with a character waking up, and finish
with the character going to sleep or otherwise reaching a state of
rest. I can feel myself yawning already.
Every once in a while,
you need that mundanity, usually to counterpoint a time of high
conflict and action, after which everyone needs a breather. One
chapter in my latest novel opens with the protagonist waking up,
well-rested and refreshed—then realizing that this means the sick
child she's tending has not coughed all night . . . so the waking
quickly shifts from idyllic to ominous.
A general approach to scenes is to enter as late as possible to
when the critical events take place and leave as early as possible
after that. Allow the impact to develop upon the reader rather
than try to explain it with dénouement (the settling that occurs
after a climax).
The same can be said of chapters. Many authors
have a great instinct for the type of close that makes the reader want more: a new question is asked, a secret
is revealed, a key action is faced, a life or future hangs in the
balance. But instead of bringing the reader to that wonderful
moment of tension then breaking the chapter on a gasp, they
include another paragraph or two, a few more lines of dialog that
release the tension early, or extend it by obscuring the impact of
the moment.
A chapter break can be clean and firm: a snap. Or it could be
more gentle: a sigh. (please, never a snore). Different kinds of
chapters (and different kinds of books) call for one type or the
other, but it's nice to include both the stunning cliffhanger and
the pause for reflection. Even a driving adventure plot can use a
romantic scene or humorous interaction. If you're doing your
job, the reader will enjoy this little break, and spend a little
quiet time with the characters while wondering what upheaval will
start the journey again.
For those reflective moments, it's nice
to close on an image—either symbolic, rich with sensory
information, or indicative of the character's mood. Instead
of telling the reader what the character is thinking, allow the
reader to absorb the character's stillness and interpret from what is left unsaid. Evoke emotion rather than force it. Then grab the reader with the start of the next chapter as they
scramble to keep up with your character's next adventure.