October 2024 …
An unexpected side effect of my focus on creative writing has been how it has changed the way I read. Reading a novel used to be a challenging marathon of concentration to get from the first page to the last. There was little awareness of the author’s technique or analysis about what made a story great. I would plough my way through, page after page, regarding it as a test of my stamina and focus.
Reading has become a much greater pleasure. Certainly, there are many technical aspects that now stand out such as the use of adverbs or speech tags, or unresolved aspects of the story, or the dramatic trigger that starts the story. These are easy to spot.
The biggest change has come with noticing an author’s ‘devices’. One example of a literary device, is when seemingly unrelated elements are introduced early in the story and then quietly set aside, only to reappear as highly relevant later in the story. This is known as the ‘Chekhov’s gun’ effect. Now I notice these elements appear and I begin to wonder, ‘why are we being told this?’ We store these details away in our subconscious, so that when they re-appear there is an ‘Aha!’ moment as we realise the relevance of these previous apparently insignificant details.
I have come to appreciate the way authors convey a character’s emotions through dialogue and action. Rather than simply being told that a character is happy or sad, nervous or anxious, we can sense it, and we feel much more involved in the story as a result. When authors do this well, I am more alert to the inferences of the dialogue and action – I become like a literary detective, actively involved in navigating my way through the story. When it is not done well, I coast superficially through the novel, looking for something interesting to happen, waiting for my mind to be engaged.
The pacing of stories is also more apparent to me. For many years I had enjoyed the film The Name of the Rose, based on the novel by Umberto Eco. The film had many classical elements of suspense and the story was always moving forward, sometimes quickly, sometimes allowing space for the viewer to pause and reflect. Then I read the original novel and was disappointed, but now I could articulate why. The pace was much slower than the film. It featured many long sections devoted to overly-detailed descriptions of buildings and their history, or information about the trials and tribulations of cults and sects in the medieval church. There were lengthy debates between characters on religious philosophy, most of which did not contribute to moving the story forward. Experiencing this gave me a greater appreciation for the selective and skilled editing by the screenwriters; they had generated a more engaging story.
I have become much more aware of story structure. I now look for: where, in the overall chronology of events, the story starts; the setting details; the dramatic events that set the story going; challenges that the protagonist has to overcome; the build-up to a peak dramatic moment; and lastly, the resolution (or lack thereof) of the story. This all makes my reading much more satisfying.
During a recent meeting of my writers’ group, one member presented a story which elicited somewhat indifferent reactions from others – they liked it but were unable to express why. It was satisfying for me to be able to point out that the young writer had produced a well-structured story – one with an interesting opening that caught the reader’s attention and started near the peak of the story’s events, some background that started to hint at the reason for the opening, a dramatic kick, and events that deftly led to the peak of the story, as well as a satisfying resolution. My ability to highlight those stages of the story allowed the author and the other members of the group to better understand the craft used in the story. It allowed them to start reading and appreciating their own stories, as writers, as well as the stories of others’, in a more informed way. They were able to start reading as writers.