Assumptive writing.

[Leonora]

I've noticed a trend in many of the examples of our writing on Litopia, from the submission surgery videos through Pop ups, to our writing in the groups. And from what's been said about my own stuff I think it's one of my biggest challenges.
I think @AgentPete called it assumptive writing - where we drop our readers into the story without any guidance. We plan to make them work out what's going on, and save the USP for a big reveal.
Why do we do this, and why do we feel it would be wrong to put our cards on the table? Is it the fear of showing, not telling? Is it an aspiration to some literary merit by being difficult? Is it the fear that our world and ideas would look paltry in the full glare of day? Is it because we're told to start with an exciting scene, not exposition?
And if we are told that, then why are we wrong to do it?
Agent Pete talked about the reader being led into a dark empty room, where all they can see is what we show them. I love this image. But how do we light it up? And does the kind of fiction we're writing affect what works?

 

[Nikky Lee]

I think it's a fine line to walk (or is it write?). You want to give enough detail to anchor the reader, but not too much that it becomes info-dumpy and stalls the story. I think the setting and genre are also important to consider. The more unfamiliar/unusual the scene is, the more you need to think about exposition. A fantasy set in a secondary world will need more "grounding" while something set in modern day in western culture needs (usually) a lot less. (Feel free to disagree with me here folks).

I think it's one of my biggest challenges.

It's one of mine too. How much information to give, how much can I withhold to the very last moment, what should I not reveal at all? There are all things I'm working through at the moment with my current WIP. For me, I rely a lot on workshoping to tell me when I've got too far or not far enough. It's also something I plan on asking my beta readers to comment on.

But how do we light it up?

I'm sure everyone has their preferences. I'm partial to a good bit of dialogue and using character movement/senses to explore the world. Some of the best examples of this are in the Flash Club where people have to ground the reader with very few words.

 

[Andrew Okey]

This is something I know I can really struggle with - particularly the balance of delivering a vivid opening that leaves enough unanswered (yet still intriguing) questions that make the reader want to read on, whilst not leaving the reader mired in confusion. I also have a pet hate in this regard - the trick some writers use (and I totally understand why) of having a character think or speak something which they are/or all the characters surrounding them already know and hence wouldn't be thinking about / wouldn't bother to mention. It can be really clunky. There are various antidotes (carefully handled dialogue being one) and my own approach - for better or worse - is to try to very quickly contextualise a concept after its introduction so that the reader gets to figure it out for themselves.

I'm close to submitting something new to pop-ups which is meant to achieve that last aim: throwing the reader into an unexpected new world but then quickly making clear when and why we are where we are. But I am more than prepared for you shred it until its resembles macrame!

 

[Katie-Ellen]

You are putting the cards on the table if the reader gets a clear sense of the environment, the problem and, above all, the stakes. Beyond that, the challenge is to get the reader to engage. There needs to be an emotional response, so where's the HOOK and what is it? It needn't be spelled out. It may be inferred or deduced. Readers aren't stupid, but the hook, the stakes and possibly the outright jeopardy need to be manifestly present from the first page, even the first line.

Every chapter has a job to do. When I get lost I ask myself, what's the job I'm needing to do here. One chapter, one job. The job of the first chapter is to get the reader to invest, coax the horse to your trough of lovely clear water and hope it will drink.

How exactly this is done - is it done by dialogue etc, are only the mechanics. What is the reward for the reader in continuing? You're not going to tell them that, but you are going to get them to understand you absolutely will be able to deliver the goods. It's partly a confidence trick, I suppose.

 

[Leonora]

You are putting the cards on the table if the reader gets a clear sense of the environment, the problem and, above all, the stakes. Beyond that, the challenge is to get the reader to engage. There needs to be an emotional response, so where's the HOOK and what is it? It needn't be spelled out. It may be inferred or deduced. Readers aren't stupid, but the hook, the stakes and possibly the outright jeopardy need to be manifestly present from the first page, even the first line.

Every chapter has a job to do. When I get lost I ask myself, what's the job I'm needing to do here. One chapter, one job. The job of the first chapter is to get the reader to invest, coax the horse to your trough of lovely clear water and hope it will drink.

How exactly this is done - is it done by dialogue etc, are only the mechanics. What is the reward for the reader in continuing? You're not going to tell them that, but you are going to get them to understand you absolutely will be able to deliver the goods. It's partly a confidence trick, I suppose.

Yes, I think you're right that it's not a matter of mechanics. I suppose, especially when it's a strange world, you want to give a clear picture of what the world is, even if you don't explain everything. And the other problem is, you can't explain everything! But if the reader can be led along an interestingly lit pathway they'll have the confidence to go with you.
I'm still curious why it's such a common mistake, though. I'm pretty sure I thought I was being clever, and I get the impression a lot of us do.

 

[Katie-Ellen]

And clearly, you are clever, Leonora, very, but I think we're just trying too hard sometimes. A bit ironic...that we...I'm including myself.....have to at least SEEM to try a whole lot less hard but at the same time go bolder. Put less in but make it bigger, and chapter by chapter MAKE the reader look at the thing you need them to see.

Go on, stick the boot in! Now, you did that at the end of your first chapter , Leonora. You could meanwhile have scared the absolute bejeez out of us by building up to that moment and that moment only, while getting us to like Kly. You'd have em hooked, and all the rest would have unfolded organically later. We still wouldn't have known what was coming, but we'd have got that horrific sense of a tightening web with no escape.

Pop Ups has a certain thing coming up time and again, very interesting. You can tell this person can write well, even brilliantly well, but they fall down on opening the STORY. They've got talent but they haven't got the crafting quite right yet. Lots of subsidiary threats get planted in too soon, so the thing immediately spreads out and gets too bushy before it's got enough height yet; the reader doesn't see the wood for the trees and loses interest. When I'm eating a savoury starter, I don't want to smell the mains, but hopefully they will segue. That does sniff of mechanics a bit, perhaps, but at a build level.

It's structure and pacing.

I think that that sense of the inexorable is a hugely potent glue, and then there is the reprieve, or the hope of a reprieve, and in a happy story, the reprieve is what you get, or the fresh chance. But in a tragedy, the net just draws tighter and tighter, and the reprieve comes as death, or some kind of treasure of legacy.

 

[Leonora]

Y

 

[Leonora]

And clearly, you are clever, Leonora, very, but I think we're just trying too hard sometimes. A bit ironic...that we...I'm including myself.....have to at least SEEM to try a whole lot less hard but at the same time go bolder. Put less in but make it bigger, and chapter by chapter MAKE the reader look at the thing you need them to see.

Go on, stick the boot in! Now, you did that at the end of your first chapter , Leonora. You could meanwhile have scared the absolute bejeez out of us by building up to that moment and that moment only, while getting us to like Kly. You'd have em hooked, and all the rest would have unfolded organically later. We still wouldn't have known what was coming, but we'd have got that horrific sense of a tightening web with no escape.

Pop Ups has a certain thing coming up time and again, very interesting. You can tell this person can write well, even brilliantly well, but they fall down on opening the STORY. They've got talent but they haven't got the crafting quite right yet. Lots of subsidiary threats get planted in too soon, so the thing immediately spreads out and gets too bushy before it's got enough height yet; the reader doesn't see the wood for the trees and loses interest. When I'm eating a savoury starter, I don't want to smell the mains, but hopefully they will segue. That does sniff of mechanics a bit, perhaps, but at a build level.

It's structure and pacing.

I think that that sense of the inexorable is a hugely potent glue, and then there is the reprieve, or the hope of a reprieve, and in a happy story, the reprieve is what you get, or the fresh chance. But in a tragedy, the net just draws tighter and tighter, and the reprieve comes as death, or some kind of treasure of legacy.

What @AgentPete called in one of the surgeries, a big story simply told.
But, Katie-Ellen, you're getting me mixed up with @Susan! I can't claim credit for her Greek tragedy.

 

[Katie-Ellen]

Whoops Yes, of course Crossed wire, there, my wits are addled. Sorry @Leonora and @Susan.

Yours had exactly the same thing going on, Leonora, in terms of the broader discussion. Confident voice, credible, and fluent writing, clearly very well researched time and world- building, but the story kicker ....the kicker...the hook already present and planted, wasn't yet emergent, it was subsumed in the surrounding noise...even though the noise was interesting.

Peter looked at something of mine once, 8 years ago, said positive things about the writing, and said ....and why do I care?

I had gone and done that same 'writerly' thing. Just because I cared, hugely, didn't follow any one else would, and it's up to me to make them.

 

[Rich.]

This is a fascinating discussion (I'm a bit of a sucker for these craft conversations), and I think @Katie-Ellen Hazeldine has said the important things. But I'll offer up some opinions for what they're worth.

... we drop our readers into the story without any guidance. We plan to make them work out what's going on, and save the USP for a big reveal.
Why do we do this, and why do we feel it would be wrong to put our cards on the table?

I think it's because we confuse context for mystery. If you pop out your earbuds on the bus and drop into some strangers' conversation, it can take you a while to find your bearings. You don't know what's going on because you don't have any context, and sometimes you'll never catch up, but it's fun to listen to other people's conversations, right? Except that in a novel you don't have that frisson of excitement that comes from eavesdropping, so you grimace and give up on the book.

A mystery on the other hand is an explicit question that invests you in discovering the answer. Who killed Bob? Why did he quit right before the promotion? Why did she leave that message on his answerphone (it's so out of character!)?

What the feck is going on? doesn't count as mysterious.

Is it the fear of showing, not telling?

Maybe. Or it might be taking that particular "rule" too literally. Show don't tell – except for all those occasions when we should definitely tell. We don't need to show a character sleeping for eight hours; a sentence of telling will do just fine. Inner monologue, by definition, is telling. Same goes for backstory (except flashbacks, maybe). It's perfectly reasonable that someone might think, The war in Syria's been going on for seven years. So why not just say it and resist the urge to write some tortuous scene of dialogue that will show the fact?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting we shouldn't use all the clever tricks of showing context. I just don't think we should be hamstrung by them.

Is it an aspiration to some literary merit by being difficult?

If it is then it's probably a misunderstanding of what literary merit is.

Is it the fear that our world and ideas would look paltry in the full glare of day?

Or perhaps it's mistaking the world and ideas for the story.

Is it because we're told to start with an exciting scene, not exposition?

I expect this is a factor, yes. But I think this particular commandment is more to do with avoiding It was a dark and stormy night – largely because that kind of thing isn't fashionable any more.

And if we are told that, then why are we wrong to do it?

Because we've misunderstood what it means. Starting in the middle of things does not mean keeping your readers in the dark. It means starting in the middle of things and cunningly telling them (in the simplest possible way!) what they need to know to engage with the scene.

Agent Pete talked about the reader being led into a dark empty room, where all they can see is what we show them. I love this image. But how do we light it up?

One salient piece at a time. You see this guy here? You see him sweating? Breathing heavily? Are those tears in his eyes? You see this broken bottle in his hand? You see this blood on the floor? You see this body? Who killed Bob?

It wasn't the guy with the bottle...

And does the kind of fiction we're writing affect what works?

Superficially, perhaps, but fundamentally, no, I don't think it does.

--

These are all just my opinions, and it's easy to spout them off here, but I struggle with all this as well when it comes to the writing.

 

[Leonora]

It's perfectly reasonable that someone might think, the war in Syria's been going on for seven years. So why not just say it and resist the urge to write some tortuous scene of dialogue that will show the fa

Yes! That's exactly what I've been doing in my WIP. And it slows everything down horribly.

They've got talent but they haven't got the crafting quite right yet.

It's 99% craft I'm beginning to realise. All these conferences you go to, and online advice about how to attract an agent, let you think there's a magic trick to success. But without the craft nothing else is going to work. However frustrating it feels, every mistake can move you grindingly forward - if you learn the lesson. It's surprisingly easy to keep repeating the same ones.

Every chapter has a job to do. When I get lost I ask myself, what's the job I'm needing to do here. One chapter, one job. The job of the first chapter is to get the reader to invest, coax the horse to your trough of lovely clear water and hope it will drink.

I'm starting again on my WIP and will hold this in my mind! Easier said than done.

 

[Amber]

These are a lot of questions. I don't have all the answers and my answers might not be right but .. well I can answer questions. So....

It might be called assumptive writing but I've heard it described more often as in media res. It's a term from Greek theater and means pretty much what you'd assume it means. But let me look up the exact definition.

It means: Into the middle of things.

Why do we do this, and why do we feel it would be wrong to put our cards on the table?

There are probably lots of reasons for doing it but I prefer writers do it this way, most of the time, because when they don't, I feel like I'm being taught something rather than experiencing something. Fiction readers don't read to learn. At least, they don't read to learn what the author wants to teach them. They read to experience or feel something. Which is a different type of learning but the distinction matters.

Wrong might be an overreach. It's not immoral. Mostly, it's ineffective. Even authors who aren't writing suspense want to create an experience where the reader wants to know more, feels there's more to know, and wants to turn the page to find out. If we lay all our cards on the table, they know what's going to happen. Mostly. There isn't that much variation in human behavior or plausible ways in which fictional characters might behave.

I don't think its fear or egotism. Over explaining is fear of not being understood and/or a lack of confidence. It can often come across as contemptuous to a reader. My thought is often, "I don't need to know this. Why am I being authorsplained to?"

Not telling the reader everything doesn't mean that the USP has to be revealed later.

I do have to admit something. Although, I don't think this is common. There have been times when I've held things back because I am uncomfortable with people knowing what my story is about. I don't want to be seen. The feedback I get from these stories is that what I've written isn't clear. I don't get told very often that I have too much exposition, but the opposite. Not that I don't have things I've written with too much exposition ... I do. But I wouldn't characterize what I do ... or have done ...in hiding my story as something people 'usually' do. It's a personal problem, not a writer problem. I'm pretty sure the writing was at least adequate even though the plot was indiscernible. I don't have that 'feeling' anymore. It's a feeling of shame and was something which impacted everything I did, not just writing. Writing has been one of the few things I could do which would provide relief from that feeling. But then I didn't want people to read what I'd written. While this is fear, it's not fear that my ideas aren't good but more of a general unspecified fear.

I think it's a good idea we don't throw writers into one universal heap or confuse good writing craft with what are personal issues which exist independent of writing and actually have nothing to do with craft.

Also, anything done without a darn good reason isn't worth doing. An exciting scene at the beginning of the book, a car crash or a murder, which turns out not to be important and something which was inserted simply to add a little fireworks, isn't what in media res means. You can put people in the middle of things without explosions or melodrama. It's a kindness to your reader because it shows a little respect for their intelligence and ability to figure out what's going on all by themselves.

What you describe Agent Pete saying sounds more like a dark room with a spotlight. Which meant (to me) that it's a good idea to use point of view and a strong voice to direct the reader's attention. I once read a gothic American story. The author painstakingly described her main characters walk across the room and all the items which she passed.

But as a reader, I don't care what's in that room unless what's in the room is significant. I have enough imagination to know what a living room in an Eastern bed and breakfast looks like. I don't need every detail described. The emotional part of that scene was when the character rifled through the papers on the table. She'd lost something. Yet the majority of her words were used to walk across the room. If you're in a dark room, with a spotlight, you direct the readers attention. The character walks across the room. She's faced with a table full of maps and papers. But something not right. What is it? She frantically searches through them, pieces of the paper dropping to the floor... she climbs beneath the table ...

Whatever. Her words needed to be devoted to that part of the scene... describe the papers on the desk ... not the chair in the living room ... at least not unless that chair starts to walk. That might be interesting.

I may have said things people have already said because I wrote part of this ... left my house ... and then came back. So ... if I'm repeating what everyone else has already said ... my apologies.

 

[Leonora]

I thought this was fascinating Amber. I really was interested in the psychological aspect in my first post. I think for me too there's a fear of putting your head above the parapet. I used to be a lecturer, but had to give it up because I felt like an imposter, spouting off. Maybe some of that crosses over into writing. Dunno.

 

[Paul Whybrow]

William Goldman stated: "I never enter scenes until the last possible moment...and as soon as it's done I get the hell out of there." Although I'd caution against throwing the reader into a confusing violent or confrontational scene from the get-go, it feels like that's what is advised by writing gurus these days, to grab the attention in the first five pages/first five sentences/first five words. Surely, an intriguing setup is more compelling than crash, bang, wallop. Readers are itching to work out what's going on, who characters are, and how the author's voice tells them the story. We have to honour the reader.

Avoiding info dumps is crucial or things turn stodgy, but some facts are essential to give context and realism. I write crime stories, featuring a forensic pathologist as a regular character. Her autopsies provide crucial evidence for her friend the Cornish Detective. Without turning it into a lecture, her post-mortem findings are grisly and fascinating to readers. It's as if they're eavesdropping. The public's appetite for true crime stories is voracious, dating back to the 18th-century with the Newgate Calendar. Everybody fantasises, at some time or other, about killing someone. It's a sobering thought that fans of crime stories in print and on-screen know more ways to kill someone (and avoid detection), than how to save a life.

How a tale is told is affected by whether it's a stand-alone novel or part of a series. Fostering reader loyalty means indulging in a sprawling portrayal of regular characters in a series, which there's not the space to do in 350 pages. Sometimes the job that a chapter does isn't quite what a reader thinks, for the writer could be misdirecting their gaze as a magician does performing a trick. It's commonly advised that everything written should advance the plot somehow, but storytelling includes characterisation where the author gives readers access to the internal dialogue of the protagonist. Also, there are longueurs where a whole lot of nothing happens...but that space can still be sprinkled with interesting snippets about people and what's going on.

Ultimately, readers are voyeurs. They want it all without being identified: what's going on, who's he, why does he think like that...what would I do if a man charged at me wielding a butcher's knife?

 

[Tim James]

Throwing the reader into the middle of a scene just so that the book starts with some exciting action in order to get the reader "hooked" and turning the pages is all very well, but as has been said it needs to have some context. It's no good the reader getting to the end of the first fantastic pages of action and still having no idea what is actually going on or who the main characters are.
My approach to this in the past has been to write the whole of the "inciting" element; descriptions, set up, etc. as if it were a scene in the middle of he book. Then take a look at it and say to myself, "ok, how much of the beginning bit can I cut and it still make sense," moving my imaginary cut mark through the text line by line. That then is where the story should start. Some of what is removed may have to be woven in later, of course, and the actual starting line my need to be tweaked a bit. But the result, I hope, is an opening that lands the reader in an exciting scene, but one that still has context and is understandable.