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Craft of Writing or Yes Madison It's A Learned Skill
Craft of Writing or Yes Madison It's A Learned Skill
Craft of Writing or Yes Madison It's A Learned Skill
or,
Yes, Virginia, It's a Learned Skill
Having been blessed to enjoy the friendship of many fellow writers, published
and unpublished, I've been party to many conversations on the art and craft of
writing. I've also occasionally been asked to critique stories. So I collected
some of the things I've learned over the years into a short essay. Then (somewhat
arrogantly, I admit!) I decided to put it up on my web page in case others might
be interested. (Further links to writers' resources are at the page bottom.)
Those who write purely for their own and others' entertainment, or aren't
interested in critical feedback or going pro--bail now. Please note: there's
nothing wrong with eschewing critical feedback. Ultimately, to entertain is the
goal of ALL writers, even Pulitzer winners. In writing fiction (fanfic or
original) the writer attempts to touch the capacity of the heart. Stories which
fail to do so are meaningless, no matter how stylistically artistic. Myself, I
prefer stories which have heart and are well written. The better written the
story, the more effective it is at entertaining readers and conveying any themes
or points the author may wish to convey.
So studying the craft of writing is not elitist, but very, very pragmatic.
What follows is commentary on various technical aspects of writing: the nuts and
bolts of narrative. Only 10% of writing is talent (maybe less), another 30% is
having something interesting to say. The rest is being able to say it well.
Talent and content amount to little without skill, and skill is what we learn.
So yes, Virginia, you can learn to write (more) creatively.
To be frank, the best way to learn is to find a mentor who will teach and do
that tedious--but very necessary--task of detailed critique on a hardcopy
manuscript. Writing, like bread-baking, is fundamentally existential: a hands-
on experience.
But not everyone is lucky enough to find a writing mentor, so general scatter-
shot advice does have some value, particularly concerning those things which are
frequent technical offenses among beginning and intermediate writers.
So, how can one know if he or she is guilty of ____? I have found that as soon
as a particular problem was pointed out to me, I could recognize it in my work.
I simply hadn't realized it was a problem before that point, and so had failed to
'see' it. If you think you're guilty of ____, you probably are. (If however,
you think you're guilty of everything, you're probably just paranoid!)
Finally, these are rules of thumb, not absolutes. Some of them are matters of
debate even among award-winning authors. Ultimately, the only real rule in
writing is, "Can you make it work?" If you can make it work, you can get away
with it.
But some people think they can get away with what they can't, too. "That's
just my style" isn't a valid excuse for bad writing. There's a big difference
between style and technical proficiency. e. e. cummings didn't capitalize
anything, but when you write poetry like cummings, you can do whatever the hell
you want, too. The people who play fast and loose with the rules are usually
those experienced, skilled authors who kept those same rules until they learned
their art. Most of us are not Carson McCullers, to pen a classic at the tender
age of twenty one.
WRITING BASICS
1) DIALOGUE TAGS: The Dreaded Said-Bookism and other Strained Prose, or, Get
Rid of those Damned Adverbs!
It's generally sound advice based on the theory of choosing the best word, not
just any word. But it becomes problematic when taken to the extreme found among
some beginning writers, particularly regarding substitutions for 'said.' In an
effort to avoid 'said,' the aspiring author tries a variety of other dialogue
tags: quip, growl, express, utter, expound, cry, declare, observe... etc.
ad nauseam. The dreaded said-bookism. In short, the aspiring author has opened
that newly-bought thesaurus, looked up 'say' or 'statement' and then started
employing all the choices therein.
Simple fact: with use, 'said' is a transparent word. When a writer employs
a substitute, it's loud--i. e. really noticeable. So don't have your
characters 'growl' their comments unless they really are growling them and you want
to call specific attention to that fact. And the word 'quipped' should appear
perhaps twice in a 1000-page novel, otherwise the guilty author should be taken
out and shot.
Dialogue tags can be divided into three basic types: nonexistent, soft, and
hard. The best of these is nonexistent, allowing the dialogue to stand free and
clear of narrator intervention (which in turn allows the reader to hear the
dialogue
more purely). In two-person dialogue, one can sometimes go for half a page or
more without the need for any "he said/she said" tag. With multiple-speaker
conversation, that's harder and tags more necessary. Rule of thumb: be
unobtrusive.
Sometimes action can substitute for he said/she said. Ask yourself, Do I
really need a tag at all?
Soft dialogue tags include: said, asked, told, replied, answered, (and
occasionally) pointed out, and remarked. These are soft because they're
transparent to the reader: that is, they carry no visual or audio sense and no
connotations -- they draw no attention to themselves and are the next best thing to
no tags at all.
Hard dialogue tags are basically anything else. That is, words which convey
a sense of how the speaker is speaking (cry, growl, snarl, quip, laugh, huff,
etc.). They also include uncommon synonyms for said like declare, expound,
utter. These words are like pepper--best used sparingly. It isn't necessary to
describe how the speaker is speaking all the time. One may as well shout all the
time: it loses its impact. The overuse of strong tags comes out as awkward--even
amusing--not descriptive. Don't be the little writer who cried wolf!
Like hard dialogue tags, adverbs should be used sparingly. If you notice one
quarter or more of your dialogue tags include an adverb... that's too damned many!
First, it's not necessary to describe how the speaker is speaking every time (as I
said just above). Second, adverbs distract from the dialogue itself.
Remember, transparent is best except in those cases where one wants to draw
attention to the how.
So, you fear you may be guilty of the dreaded said-bookism, what do you do?
First, go through your manuscript and convert every dialogue tag to 'said.' (I'm
serious--every tag.) Then go back over your manuscript to see where you can
eliminate a tag entirely, or where another word really is necessary.
Sometimes the only change needed is another soft tag, like asked instead of said.
Save the hard tags for those places where you need them.
2) CHARACTER NAMES AND DESCRIPTORS: Pick One and Stick With It.
Like the word 'said,' characters' names become transparent. And as with
said-bookisms, there are always beginning writers who think they need half a dozen
synonym-descriptors to substitute for characters' names in order to be artistic.
It's
not artistic. It's confusing. I've read scenes of dialogue between two
characters where it sounded like six people talking! ...all because the writer
kept subbing "the tall boy," or "the red-haired pilot" or god-knows-what instead
of the
name. Unless one needs to use a name three times in the same sentence, never
use a substitute just to use the substitute. As I said, character names become
transparent. Like adverbs and hard dialogue tags, the use of a descriptive
synonym
in place of the name draws attention to it. So unless you mean to draw
attention to it, don't do it. For instance, in the following case, the use of
a descriptive synonym adds punch:
A writer often does need at least one synonym for a character besides the
pronoun he or she. So pick one and use it consistently: don't invent ten. Or
even three. Occasionally, one might need a second, but it should be fairly
generic: the
boy, the man, etc. Too many and it gets confusing as to just who is who!
(For some reason, poor Paris in Voyager fanfic is particularly subject to too many
descriptors. I've seen--in the same story--"the pilot," "the tall man," "the
blond
young man," "the lieutenant," "the cocky young lieutenant," etc. Um...
just how many people are we talking about here?)
3) VIVID LANGUAGE: Chose the Best Noun or Verb, or, Get Rid of Those Damned
Adverbs, Take II.
When we write, we convey a mental picture to the reader. Thus, and to that
end, the more vivid our language, the better. But truly vivid language is not
achieved by the use and abuse of adjectives and adverbs. It's achieved by the
choice
of the precise noun or verb and by the level of detail.
For instance, "he raced" is always better than "he ran quickly." Attaching
adjectives and adverbs weakens the noun or verb: these are called 'qualifiers,'
and they're best avoided. So for this endeavor, get out that thesaurus and
stretch
that vocabulary. A writer's most precious tool is not good characterization,
good dialogue, good plot--it's a strong, diverse vocabulary. Without the
vocabulary, none of the rest is possible.
I once sat down with John Crowley's Aegypt, to study what he was doing.
(Don't know Crowley? He's arguably the best stylist writing fantasy today.) I
did a word count on adverbs and adjectives. In a ten-line descriptive paragraph,
he
averaged only three adjectives and one adverb. Yeah, really. Yet these are
some of the most vivid descriptions I know of in prose. He achieved it all with
the right noun or verb.
He also achieved it by his attention to detail, and not just any detail but
those details which make description live. For instance, in one brief scene
where he describes a hot evening in summer, he speaks of a fire hydrant left to
gush water into the street. Instead of saying it was full of "garbage" or
"flotsam," he picks out three items from that garbage, and unusual items at that
(a condom is one). The reader can, therefore, see it.
"Once upon a time, when men and women hurtled through the air on metal
wings, when they wore webbed feet and walked on the bottom of the sea, learning
the speech of whales and the songs of the dolphins, when pearly-fleshed and
jewelled
apparitions of Texan herdsmen and houris shimmered in the dusk on Nicaraguan
hillsides, when folk in Norway and Tasmania in dead of winter could dream of fresh
strawberries, dates, guavas and passion fruits and find them spread next morning
on
their tables, there was a woman who was largely irrelevant, and therefore
happy."
As for characters, it's too easy for authors to get lazy and fall into what I
think of as "driver's license descriptions": height, eye color, hair color.
Some of the best character descriptions I've seen employ none (or only one) of
those.
Don't tell us a character's height unless they're unusual in some way: very
short or very tall. Six feet is a tallish man, it's not a tall man. Now, Jake
Sisko is tall; it's worth noting. So is Hercules, so is Xena for a woman, so is
Jadzia Dax. But Fox Mulder and Chakotay are not exceptionally so--why mention
it? Pick something else. Avoid overstatement. And if inventing one's own
characters, please don't make them all tall (or all short). I recall one
delightful
fanfic story which described a character as not-quite-tall, not-quite-blonde
and not-quite-pretty. What a terrific description!
The same is true of hair and eye color. Unless it's unusual, don't bother
with it. Descriptions of people should pick out those features which are
distinctive. A cleft in the chin and no earlobes is better for descriptive
purposes than brown
hair and eyes. Mention the interesting things. (Also mention of one will
sometimes allow the reader to assume the other: if a character has brown eyes,
more than likely the hair will be some shade of brown, too. If the hair is
blond, more
than likely, the eyes will be some shade of blue or grey; if the eyes are
brown or hazel--like Callisto from Xena--then it's worth mentioning.)
Now, here we do get into a bit of disagreement about style. Some people
write short. I do. But some write longer. A. S. Byatt, for instance. The
quote used above is both a single sentence and the whole damn first paragraph.
But Byatt
is good. She can get away with it. It's not a run-on sentence... and
that's the key. Some writers write run-on sentences and excuse it with "that's
just my style." Uh--and just how many "and"s and "but"s have you got in there?
Put simply, the longer the sentence, the better the writer had better be or
it becomes confusing and unreadable. Ideally, sentence length and grammar should
vary. If all your sentences are short and all begin with a subject--"He walked to
the
store and saw a blue car"--it's boring. Try, "Walking to the store, he saw
a blue car." Or maybe, "On the way to the local Giant supermarket, he spotted a
screaming-blue corvette careening along at speeds that would earn the driver a
traffic
ticket in triple digits."
First Person is simultaneously the easiest and most difficult point of view to
use. It's the easiest because the writer has no trouble staying in the head of
the POV (point of view) character. But it's the most difficult to use well--with
nuances. John Irving is a master of first person, so is James Kirkwood, and
Charolette Bront�. By nuances, I mean can the author convey to the reader the
biases of the narrator even while stuck in the narrator's head?
Third Person comes in two flavors: Third Limited and Third Omniscient. The
difference is where the reader is "placed" in the story. With third omniscient,
the reader stands beside an impersonal, third-person narrator who plays God and
can see
into the heads and hearts of all the characters. It's hard to do well. With
third limited, the narrator is in the head of one of the characters in the story.
It's not as close a point of view as first, but it's far more intimate than third
omniscient. It's also the most common point of view employed in fiction,
particularly in genre fiction (and fanfic).
All of these POVs have certain advantages and disadvantages. The writer has
to make a choice as to which one will best accomplish what the writer wishes to do.
Often we make that choice unconsciously: we just sit down and start writing and
automatically fall into one.
The problem arises with the two third person POVs, as some writers try to have
their cake and eat it, too. That is, they wish the freedom of third omniscient
with the intimacy of third limited... and wind up with a mess. Frequently, the
writer isn't even aware of what's happening. Even published authors commit
this sin. That doesn't make it okay. It's a problem, plain and simple--in my
not-so-humble opinion. Pick third limited or third omniscient and stick with it.
The author must learn to place the camera (if you will) for the reader. So
let's take a look at what each placement permits, and what limitations it imposes:
A) First:
First person is, obviously, a great choice to allow the reader intimate
knowledge of the thoughts and feelings of the main protagonist. It also permits
longish internal monologues, as well as retrospective and forespective comments,
such as:
"I didn't know then..." or "When I was seven, I... but as an adult..." It
does require a strong narrator's voice or it descends into mundanity, like reading
the average grunt's diary. Boring.
But it does not allow similar intimacy with other characters. We only and
always see people and events through the narrator, and are subject to all the
narrator's biases. If the author wishes the reader to realize that the narrator
doesn't see
a particular character fairly or completely, it can be a trick to let the
reader in on this. In other words, a good first person writer can avoid merging
the 'truth' with what the narrator thinks, allowing the reader enough distance
from the
narrator to see that truth--even while maintaining the intimacy and empathy of
first. Quite a feat, no?
B) Third Omniscient:
I think of this one as the master's POV because it's so damn hard to do well...
and tiring, too. It's hard because it requires the writer to be able to make
profound commentary on the human condition without sounding either pompous or
obnoxious. Like first POV, it also requires a strong and distinctive
narrative voice. In first, one is a character in the story itself, in third
omniscient, one is an external observer... but both are narrating the story and
so are
therefore free to comment on characters, events, action, etc. What third
omniscient permits which none of the others does is free access into the thoughts
and motivations of all the characters, and awareness of all events and action.
But it doesn't allow the intimacy of either first or third limited. The
unseen, omniscient narrator stands between the reader and the characters,
mediating perceptions. It's got a bit of a patronizing tone which some writers
(and readers)
dislike. After all, the narrator is playing God, telling the reader what he
or she ought to think about the characters and action.
This type of POV is particularly valuable for stories which are heavy on
characters and theme, those that "say something." One wouldn't ordinarily choose
it for a PWP (plot? what plot?) romp unless engaged in mannerpunk. (And I'm not
sure I'd
consign mannerpunk to PWP romps, as it usually has a stylistic goal, if not a
thematic goal. So, you ask, What the hell is mannerpunk? Read Emma Bull and
Steven Brust's recent SF collaboration, Teresa Edgerton's Goblin Moon, or
anything by
Ellen Kushner.)
To make third omniscient work, one has to have something profound to say about
the human condition. Otherwise, it's trite, pompous or just plain dull.
C) Third Limited:
This is a happy medium between the other two POVs, allowing a little of both--
but it does carry certain limitations. In third limited, the reader is put in
the heads of characters to see events from their points of view. Thus, it has
some of
the intimacy of first. But because a little more distance is maintained via
the use of "s/he" instead of "I," the reader may be permitted into the heads of a
couple of characters instead of only one, thus allowing the greater awareness of
events
that one gets with third omniscient.
BUT in order for it to work and not bleed into (bad) third omniscient, a
little more rigidness is required. First, the writer must keep in mind that the
POV character (whoever it is) cannot see him or herself. I can't say how many
books and/or
stories I've read where we're supposedly in the head of X character only to
have the writer drop out of that character's head in order to give a description of
what the character looks like: "Her wispy red hair streamed out behind her..."
Ouch.
How does she know what her hair is doing? She can only describe herself if
she's looking in a mirror or other reflective surface. Yes, there are published
authors who do this. I still personally consider it bad, lazy writing.
Third limited works best if there is only one POV character per scene. The
author should avoid hopping heads within scenes. If he or she does, the result
is "POV ping pong" which makes the reader dizzy trying to keep track of whose head
one's
in now. Certainly the writer should avoid doing it within paragraphs. Make
it easy on the poor reader--pick a single person's POV and stick with it.
"But I really, really wanna show a scene from both character's points of
view!"
This is where the choice comes in, my friend. The writer must make a
decision: is it third limited he or she wants, or third omniscient? Also
consider, does this scene really need to be seen from two points of view, or do
you just think it
does? Let it be a challenge to write it from only one point of view. It is
possible to change heads within a single scene, if handled well, but the
privilege shouldn't be abused. Some tips:
a) Change only once, or at most, twice. Add a few lines of "break" to alert
the reader that a change has been made.
b) Or settle on a very distant 3rd limited POV. This is hard to do, but some
manage. For example, take a look at SF author Kit (Katherine) Kerr's fiction.
Most of Kit's work hovers somewhere between third limited and third omniscient.
Another example is historical novelist Mary Renault. Renault changes heads a
little more often than Kerr does, and for the most part, she manages to pull it
off without confusing the reader as to the "he." But even so, I do still
occasionally
get thrown when reading her work and have to stop, go back and re-read the
paragraph to be sure whose head I'm in.
That's the real reason for picking one head and staying in it for the whole
scene. I'm not trotting out rules for the sake of having rules; there's a point
behind them. It's okay to ask the reader to work a little, but if your writing
causes
the reader to have to stop and re-read on a regular basis, at some point the
reader will just stop reading, period.
(Oh, on that topic--try some different gestures. All writers can be guilty
of falling into ruts: nodding heads, taking a step up, back, turning around,
etc. How about putting hands behind the head? Scratching the bridge of a
nose?
Cracking knuckles? Twitching a foot? Be... well... creative.)
The key here is twofold, as noted above: not to confuse the reader by adding
too much and thereby cutting up dialogue so that it becomes difficult to follow;
but also not to add unneccessary commentary, images, taglines and actions. How
does
one know what's unnecessary? Ask oneself a couple of questions: How does
this comment/action further the readers' grasp of the conversation dynamics, or
the reader's grasp of characterization itself? If you present a character as
habitually
pacing when nervous, or have one who scratches the bridge of his nose when
he's feeling shy or uncomfortable, that's a subtle clue--and it's not unncessary,
is it? But don't join every exchange in a conversation with some action on the
part of
the speaker as a substitute tagline, or under the misguided notion that the
reader has to "see" everything the characters are doing. The reader doesn't.
Keep it balanced. Or, as Apollo would say, "Moderation in all things."
This is a cardinal rule of writing, and what makes creative writing different
from most other forms of writing, such as journalism, essays, technical writing,
et cetera. Some new authors understand it instinctively, others--particularly
those who think linearly, or have been trained in scientific or other forms of
logical thinking--don't.
How does this manifest itself in actual fiction writing? By telling us facts
about your characters--what we call 'expository lumps'--rather than showing us
these things. Yes, it takes longer, but the show is what makes fiction
interesting.
There are two basic ways to show: either through dialogue, or by creating a
scene in which the information is revealed. If you want to convey that your
character is impulsive, make a scene in which s/he acts impulsively. Don't just
tell us
that fact. Why should we believe you? If you want to pass certain
information on to your readers, do it in a conversation if possible, not by just
dumping it straight into narrative.
Write what you know or research like hell because there will be someone reading
your story who's an expert on whatever subject you choose to explore. That pretty
much says it all. If you tackle a subject about which you know nothing--or only
enough to get you in trouble--you'll just wind up looking like a fool.
No, this doesn't mean writers can only write semi-autobiography. What it
does mean is that if you've never been to Las Vegas, don't choose it for your
story's main setting. If you know nothing about fly fishing, don't make it your
protag's
favorite hobby. Or go talk to someone who does know about fly-fishing. Read
a few books. Do your homework. Or--hitting closer to home--if you're not an
Indian, have never met an Indian and know squat about Indians, don't pick
Chakotay for
your main point of view character or dwell on his Indian-ness. If you're
writing Scully and are not a medical doctor, nurse, or other medical personnel,
or don't work in a hospital, try to avoid medical jargon because you'll almost
certainly
get it wrong.
In general, know your limits. Don't be the lazy author who decides to wing
it on a prayer and a remembered conversation between your father and an uncle when
you were seven. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
Related to this is knowing when to enter a scene and when to end it.
Frequently, authors enter scenes too early, or let them run too long. As author
Joy Anderson once said jokingly, "Write your first book chapter to get you going,
then toss
it in the trash." That may be overstating the case a little, but she has a
point. When editing your work, learn how to cut your material, particularly to
excise the unnecessary. Bigger is not necessarily better. Are you overtelling?
Do
your scenes start too soon, end too late? These are questions to keep in the
back of your mind as you edit.
How and where you begin a book or story will set the tone for the entire thing.
Give it a lot of thought. You have to catch your readers in that first few
sentences or paragraphs. This is called the "hook." They won't give you more
than
that, not when there're a ton of other books (or other pieces of fanfic) to
choose from. That doesn't mean you have to start with exploding buildings or
murder or hints of deep dark secrets in the main character's past. But do think
some about
how to set your hooks, so you can reel in that reader and keep him or her
following you for the rest of the story. Expository lumps are not the way to open
your narrative. Consider the opening lines of these award winning authors/novels:
"I've watched through his eyes, I've listened through his ears, and I tell
you, he's the one. Or at least, as close as we're going to get."
Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game (SF)
"The child was wakened by the knotting of the snake's coil about his waist."
Mary Renault, Fire From Heaven (historical)
"'I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father I have
sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy
son.' These were not perhaps the actual words which Edward Baltram uttered to
himself on
the occasion of his momentous and mysterious summons, yet their echo was not
absent even then, and later he repeated them often."
Iris Murdoch, The Good Apprentice (novel)
"At the beginning of the summer I had lunch with my father, the gangster,
who was in town for the weekend to transact some of his vague business."
Michael Chabon, The Mysteries of Pittsburg (novel)
"The snow in the mountains was melting and Bunny had been dead for several
weeks before we came to understand the gravity of our situation."
Donna Tartt, The Secret History (murder mystery)
12) FORESHADOW, FORESHADOW!, or, How Do You Get There from Here?
This goes not just for events, but for character traits as well. Don't have
your characters respond to situations in unpredictable ways which don't mesh with
anything we've seen from them before--or anything we might expect from what we have
previously seen. If they're original characters, yes of course they're yours
to do with as you please... but that doesn't mean anything goes. Keep your
characters consistent. In fact, you must keep characters more consistent than
people are
in real life because there is less room for complexity in stories. I'm all
for complex characters, but it is possible to make them so complex that you lose
your readers. As for borrowed characters, I think it goes without saying that
you can't
take them too far from how they've been shown on the screen or you've simply
created your own character and wrapped an actor's looks around him/her. (See
below under "Comments Specific to Fanfic.")
Finally, a related point: if you plan to hint at deep dark secrets in the
pasts of your characters, be sure they're not cliches. If I read One More Incest
Story, I may hurl. As a former counsellor, I firmly believe that this is a
matter
which should be spoken about openly and brought to public attention. But as a
writer, I recognize that it's become a plot cliche. Twenty years ago--even ten
years ago--it was shocking. Now, it's blas� because it's been done to death.
(See
above under "Write What You Know" for warnings against emotional chain-yanking,
too.) To avoid writing a cliche requires both extraordinary realism and
extraordinary empathy, not to mention a unique angle. But really--there are
other
interesting things to write about.
Very, very, very few writers can pull off dialect. It's better to assume
you aren't one of them. Don't give Scotty a brogue, or Chekov a Russian accent,
by deliberate misspellings and unfamiliar contractions. It's not convincing, it
is
difficult to read, and frankly, it strikes as ridiculous. Instead convey
distinctive speaking styles by grammar. This means developing a really good ear
for language. For an example of an author who does this particularly well, take
a
gander at the writing of Clyde Edgerton (Walking Across Egypt, Rainey). He
conveys a perfect western North Carolina accent without misspelling much of
anything--all by the grammar the characters use. And by grammar, I don't
necessarily mean
bad grammar. For instance, the combination "might should" is something you
rarely hear in New York City, but you're very likely to hear it in Macon,
Georgia. Likewise with "gotten," and "drug" (the 'past tense' of drag, not a
pharmaceutical
item). These are southernisms. Likewise, you won't hear many Americans say
"we're getting up a party," or "I'm great for you," but you're likely to hear an
Irish woman say that. So listen for distinctive speech patterns and use these to
convey dialect--don't use lots of contractions (goin' instead of going) or bad
grammar to denote rural or linguistically unsophisticated characters, and don't,
please, please don't use misspellings to convey dialect. It's unreadable.
[A few exceptions which are commonly seen enough to use: ain't, gonna,
wanna, y'all, 'tis, 'cept, ol' and a few more. But use these with care.]
What is deus ex machina? In Latin, it means "the god from the machine" and
relates to ancient Greek theater, but what it really means in modern usage is to
take the easy way out at the end. That is, such quick-fixes as "it was all a
dream"
(or a holodeck adventure) which results in automatic rewind, or inserting a
"miracle rescue" or "miracle medicine moment." Yes, TV shows are guilty of deus
ex machina all the time. That's not an excuse; that's bad plotting. Be brave
and
permit actions to have consequences. Euripides used deus ex machina in order
to make fun of the Greek tendency to anthropomorphize their gods. But lazy
writers use it to get themselves out of a plot pickle, to make a story end the way
they want
it to--not the way the course of action demands, or because they're too lazy
to think out a more complex solution.
I'm not against incorporating the information somewhere in the story, but
please: not in the first paragraph. And try to find a creative way to do it.
Instead of beginning "James T. Kirk, captain of the USS Enterprise was walking
along the
corridor," Try: "Captain!" It was Spock's voice. Kirk stopped his
progress down the hall outside sickbay and turned.
If you found the above essay to be of use and wish to set pointers to this page,
please feel free. Also feel free to distribute the above in the public domain
but, of course, keep my name attached. I'd like to thank Mary Ellen Curtin,
anne in
chicago, and Laura Taylor for suggestions and comments which became additions or
revisions to this essay. I'd also like to thank the folks on
alt.startrek.creative for a lively discussion of this essay which allowed me to
further refine it.
Garbl's Writing Resources Online: A page of links for grammar and other writer's
concerns.