One of the most important part of any story is Setting the Scene. I don't care where it's set: on the dying world of Mars, in a village in Botswana, post-apocalyptic nightmare Earth, down the street in Amarillo, Texas, or in Middle Earth--if readers can't visualize in some way the area where the action takes place, they probably won't be able to follow along with the action. It's like watching a movie where the background has been blanked out, or reading a comic strip where the scenery hasn't been drawn in yet. You are left with a considerable amount of "Huh?"
I, alas, am not immune to this. Through a great deal of practice and an awful lot of gritting my teeth and going back over the story a dozen times, I have managed to get better. But I still forget about it a lot more than I should. There are reasons for this. Sometimes, if the background is just the background, without any bearing on what's currently happening in the story, it's possible to just ignore it--right up until the point that the reader points out that there is no background. At other times, you have the scenery so clearly in your head that you don't realize it's not transferring itself onto the paper. Fortunately, there are techniques that will make it, if not effortless, then fairly easy, and will even flow with the story.
First, though, a don't. Don't sit there telling us about the landscape before you open the scene. I have tried this. Unless you are showing it through the eyes of a character seeing it for the first time or gazing about in wonder at something made new, it comes out as awkward and clunky. It also has a tendency to make you forget what the scene was about in the first place, and you don't want that.
One of the more seamless methods of pulling it off is the Show, Don't Tell method. If you've heard about this and can't figure out what it means, you're not alone. It took a much better writer than I to explain it, by writing out a scene from a hypothetical story and then breaking it down. (He also described it as akin to performing a striptease, but I shall not go into that.)
Quite simply, the art of Show, Don't Tell can be explained by giving hints--outlines, if you will--that the reader can then fill in on their own. For example, compare "The valley was deep, craggy, and dark, and every rock formation looked like a new and nastier dragon" with "He glanced up, noting how dimly the light filtered down from the rough crags high above him. He had, at best, two hours of light left. Another dragonish shape reared out of the walls as he passed, and he jerked to the side, before realizing it was only rock. He shuddered. The sooner he got out of this cursed place, the better."
Yes, one is much longer. But while the first tells us about the valley, the second one lets us see it, and sets the atmosphere for the scene as well. The first setting is merely unpleasant. The second is downright scary, and we, just like the character, wonder what might be down there along with the spooky formations--and want out before dark falls.
Rather than saying, "the ground was barren and rocky', or 'the lawn was lush and soft', have the character react to it somehow. Have him stumble on a rock and grumble about the rough terrain. Have her pull off her shoes and run barefoot across the dewy grasses--or want to, if she can't do so. If there are statues or gargoyles in the area, the character may simply notice them in the background, if they are not important, or react or remark on them if they are.
There are times when you will not be able to show a particular feature in a scene, and must describe it in a paragraph of its own. Don't fret about this; it happens. If you have an unusual creature, or a palace, or a stranger who has appeared, and you need the reader to have a picture of it right now, then a paragraph of description is in order. Write the description, then read it through several times, both now and later, and make sure you haven't forgotten any details. I would also read it out loud, to feel the flow of the scene.
Finally, the technique I have found most interesting and most helpful, is called Dicken's Trick. It is simply adding a few small details to the scene in order to bring it to life. For instance, if you have horses tethered, then don't have them standing there: have them steaming, champing at the bit, eating from nosebags, and so on. If you have a kettle on the stove, have it whistling, or boiling over. If you have an armchair, then it is leather-upholstered, or worn through, or overstuffed. The cat is not just present: it is staring haughtily, or rolling on the carpet, or chasing a bug. The dog is begging for attention, sleeping, or chewing a bone. It is a splintery windowsill, or a dusty screen; a thick green carpet, or a floor so shiny you can see your reflection in it. Small things, little details to add to details, but they work.
And of course, the best thing to do is practice. Go over your story, find where the different techniques will help, and make use of them. Then read the scene again. If it makes sense, if it lives, and if you have a better idea of what's going on and where it's happening, you've figured it out, or are starting to. If it doesn't, go back and try again.
(And again, and again, and again...sigh...and again...)
No comments:
Post a Comment