Come with Me

My wife, Judy, died five months ago and I am learning day by day how to adjust to her absence. As I told a friend at church last Sunday, I feel like a mariner who has crossed the equator: I still have my sextant and compass, but I must learn how to navigate all over again.

In our 41 years of marriage, Judy and I shared life on the most intimate (and, some would say, trivial) levels. One of our favorite pastimes was to go for long drives, just to see what we could discover together. On such a drive last July (with Judy at the wheel), we struck out east from Anderson and chose our turns as we went. We saw Wilbur Wright's birthplace, stopped for a soft-serve ice cream cone in Winchester, and realized just before sundown that we were near the Ohio state line.

All along the way, I shared my memories of growing up on a farm in East Tennessee. I got plenty of memory prompts from the hay fields and cornfields of eastern Indiana that July afternoon! In fact, each of us interrupted my childhood narrative often to comment on what we saw, smelled, and heard as we wended our way toward Ohio. Our running commentary ("Look at the snowy egret beside that pond." "This fresh-cut grass smells like a ripe watermelon," etc.) seared the memory of that drive in my mind. What I miss most about Judy is the opportunity to share those incidental observations of daily life--call them the "trivial" things if you like. I still find myself spontaneously saying things like, "I just heard a sand hill crane. There must be a flock overhead."

I felt depressed yesterday afternoon, wishing I still had a companion to share these rich trivialities of daily life. I wondered, Who could I invite to come with me now?

Immediately, the thought came: My readers. They enjoy yarns of days gone by, as much as Judy enjoyed the story of my life as a farm boy, but they want just as much to experience the sensory details along the way. I don't have to tell them what the details mean with respect to our journey or destination, though the details should have some significance for the story; I can simply call these things to our attention and let their significance unfold.

Vivid description does that. So does authentic dialogue. In fact, everything in a well-told story should sear the memory of it in the reader's mind.

I'm thinking I ought begin every story by saying to the reader (in my imagination if not on paper), "Come with me. Let's see what this world looks like today."

Joe Allison has been a member of the Indiana Chapter of American Christian Fiction Writers since 2010. He lives in Anderson, IN.

Not to Put Too Fine a Point on It

We like to have a well-defined vision of our story world--character quirks, colors and fragrances, even weather changes that affect the mood--but we don't have to describe all those details to usher our readers into that world. In fact, skillful storytellers know what to leave to the imagination. An example:

The early morning sky, rinsed clean by the recent winter rains, curved overhead as though it were an inverted bowl. Ruth, striding toward the well, paused for a moment and tipped her head to look at it.

If we could find a clay that would turn blue when it was fired, she mused, how beautiful the pots would be. Or even a blue slip to trace on the outer surface of the bowls. Wouldn't it be lovely?

A familiar voice pulled her attention away from the sky.

"What are you looking for--birds to trap for dinner?"

Ruth grinned. The woman coming toward her was her sister but as unlike Ruth as it's possible for sisters to be. Small and oddly fair for a Moabite, Patima bore no resemblance to her tall, dark sister. Nor did her pointed, elfin face have any similarity to Ruth's calm, serene face with its broad forehead, winged brows and wide, mobile mouth. 

In 158 words, Lois Henderson sets the scene and introduces the lead characters of her best-selling novel, Ruth (Christian Herald Books: 1981). How old are these women? Which one is older? Where is the well--in a village, a forest clearing, beside a hard-packed clay trail? Is either one carrying a vessel to fetch water? Is it a jug, a pitcher, a tall amphora? Of carved stone or fired clay? What color? What are they wearing? Are others at the well?

The author tells us none of these things, so our imaginations supply the details. She surely considered these things, and may even have filled notebooks with these ideas before she began to write, but she didn't spell them out in the narrative itself. She left that to us, the readers.

Want to use the best techniques of creative writing? Then don't put too much detail into your story. Otherwise, there can be no creative reading.

Best wishes to our NaNoWriMo marathoners this month!

__________________

Joe Allison and his wife, Judy, live in Anderson IN, where Joe serves as Editorial Director of Discipleship Resources & Curriculum for Warner Press, Inc. Joe has several nonfiction books in print, including Swords and Whetstones: A Guide to Christian Bible Study Resources. He's currently writing a trilogy of Christian historical novels set in the Great Depression.

Visit Joe's blog at http://southernmtns.wordpress.com

Be a Sponge!

No fiction story takes place in a vacuum. No matter how witty your dialogue, no matter how fascinating your characters, no matter how complex your plot, your story takes places in some sort of locale. But how much thought do you give to the places where your scenes take place?

True, not all scenes need or deserve intricate descriptions down to the minutes details. However, if you as the writer don't inject at least some semblance of location, your readers won't be able to "experience" the locker rooms, pine forests, chilly underground caverns, and other places where your characters interact with one another. So how can you paint places with a brush of reality? By being a sponge.

You may or may not need to keep a journal of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and feeling of places you visit, but the idea is to record all of the above in your memory. Are you camping in the woods with family? Then use that opportunity to soak up your surroundings. Be still and notice the natural scents that waft through your campsite. Note the sticky feel pine bark where the sap oozes out (and notice how hard it can be to wash that stuff from your fingers!). Stare into the fire and imagine what words you can craft to describe those ever-shifting orange and yellow tongues of flame that leave behind glowing orange and red embers. Recall the cool dew that seeps into your running shoes as you walk through the damp grass. Notice the smoky smell that permeates your clothing. Impress all of these on your mind so that you can apply them later.

The same principle applies when you drive your neighbor to the hospital ER and you're waiting. The sights, sounds, and medicinal smells will be quite different.

Taking a trip by jumbo jet? Watch your fellow passengers and remember how some will slump in their seats with their mouths hanging open. Recall the background noise of the engines and rushing air as you cruise at 630 miles per hour. Don't forget your emotions when you're in the middle of your meal and the thoughtless nut in front of you suddenly reclines his seat backward into your face, nearly spilling your coffee.

By being a sponge and soaking up your life experiences, you'll have a steady supply of the raw materials to construct your own scenes. You'll be writing fiction with the feel of reality.

Say, while we're discussing the topic, do you have any favorite sights, smells, sounds, or tastes that you've "soaked up" to save for your writing?

It's All in the Details

by Rachael Phillips


Are you a detail person? If we're speaking of knowing what to do with multiple dinner forks or making reservations before entering the front door of a hotel or airplane, I'm not. But I have learned in novel writing that while, as one dictionary states, details function as small, subordinate parts of a whole, another definition tells us these collectively constitute a work of art.


Details also can obliterate the work of art.


Logistics
To a writer whose vision encompasses only the glorious dimensions of her heroine's character or her novel's teeth- and heart-grinding conflicts, which door the heroine uses for a dramatic exit appears irrelevant--until a prospective agent notices that, given earlier information, that particular door leads not to sorrowful moon-kissed paths of unrequited love, but to the junky shag-rugged '70s basement.


I mention this example because in my fiction, as in real life, I ignore spatial concepts, possess no sense of direction and occasionally defy gravity. My early drafts force characters to stoke fires in homes without fireplaces and send them through windows instead of doors. They drive to Chicago by way of Miami and frequently make left turns through barns. (How do I explain to an editor that I killed off a character who wasn't supposed to die?) And though I do not write sci-fi, my heroines and heroes show a marked tendency to float when no water or ballroom dancing are involved.


My solution: I draw crude house plans and furniture/yard/estate layouts and frequently study maps. I've considered installing a GPS in every story. And I chain my characters to sofas.


Time
Readers do not not react well when Christmas arrives late, particularly in Christmas novella collections. Time issues, in general, must make sense. Cicadas should chirp during appropriate months; socks can't be knitted in one hour. If the heroine in my first novella hadn't stuck a Christmas cactus in a closet at the right point during its life cycle, the plant would not have bloomed at a critical point in the story, and its weighty symbolism [gasp!] would have been lost.


My solution: Print off a calendar and schedule plot events on it. I've never liked planners--but avoiding one may result in a lady character's 21-month pregnancy.


Characters
In editing others' manuscripts, I often encounter characters who switch eye color. Readers who fell in love with the emerald-eyed hero in chapter five feel betrayed when his midnight black orbs flash during chapter nine. I struggle less with character details than logistics in my novels, but occasionally I discover three walk-ons who all work as third-grade teachers, wear zebra socks and suffer from a tic.


My solution: I include all characters, named and unnamed, on a character sheet, plus details about each--physical characteristics, relationship to main characters and the reason for their existence. If no reason emerges, I may have to beam this superfluous character out of my novel. Editors, agents and readers are detail people, even if I am not.


How about you? How do you avoid the eye color switch?

Getting Our Facts Right...

Recently, I received some really amazing feedback for one of my historicals A Promise Forged. First, you need to know a little about the story, set in 1943:

When  Kat Miller makes All-American Girls Professional Softball  League,  she  struggles with long road trips, grueling practices, and the   challenge  of making time for God. Not only that, but older teammates  are   jealous of her success and an irritating reporter, Jack Raymond,  has a   knack for getting under Kat’s skin.

I received a  package from my editor a few weeks ago. When I opened up this package, I  was instantly intrigued by its  contents, especially the black and  white baseball card autographed to me and the autobiography with a photo  of a female softball player on  the cover. The card is about to get put  in a shadowbox frame -- it's an amazing gift.


It also came with a letter: "...A friend  gave me the  book because she knew I had played in the All-American  Girls'  Professional Baseball League in 1954 for the Grand Rapids Chicks.  As I  read the book, it was like I was walking in Kat's shoes, reliving  my  life again.I am enclosing a book I wrote about my ball playing days,   and a signed baseball card....Thank you for the great story!"

This  type of feedback is a dream come true for a writer. It lets me know all my research paid off and I got the details right. How often have you  read a book that's moving along and then the author gets one fact wrong.  While you were going with the characters before, now you can't. The  error (no matter how small) is a glaring problem. It makes you doubt  everything else. 

So  for a historical, I spend time in archives and talking to historians  and people who lived it. For a suspense I talk to arson investigators,  police detectives, etc. But as a writer, I have to get the details  right. 

And when we do? Serendipity!

A closer look ... (by Ann Schrock)

A tangle of woods borders the parking lot of the factory where I work, and sometimes I eat my lunch in my truck for a moment outdoors.




At first the woods didn't look like much: just tangles of leafless branches and brush. Gray limbs and white snow.



But as I studied it I began to notice that at least two kinds of woodpeckers liked those trees, and so did a little flock of chickadees. Sometimes I saw cardinals, probably flying in after brunch at feeders in the subdivision behind the factory.



I'm looking forward to seeing the woods change as winter turns into spring. Will a low spot in the middle turn into a pond? Will there be toads? Tree frogs? Mosquitoes? Wildflowers?



In the same way, at first I found the factory full of strangers. Now I recognize my co-workers as single moms, recently unemployed men happy to return to work, young people just starting out ... all kinds of people with all kinds of stories.



As a writer I should study my surroundings -- not just see but notice the details.



What are some of our best ways to notice details, of our surroundings? Do little details add a lot? Can details help us connect with those around us and reveal more of Christ?


Ann Schrock
What's new down on the farm? Come and see ...

http://cloverleaffarm-ann.blogspot.com/