It occurs to me that I never announced my new science blog "Reading and word recognition research."
The main purpose of the new blog is to force myself to read up on my dissertation topic (nothing like the threat of public humiliation to force you to get your facts right). The articles are therefore pretty academic and have a much narrower focus. If you're curious (or just a glutton for punishment), feel free to hop on over and poke around.
Invoking Strong Emotions in the Reader (Tender Morsels)
I recently read Tender Morsels
by Margo Lanagan. It’s not for the faint of heart, but I admire the way Lanagan invokes mood and strong emotion in the reader.
Tender Morsels tell the story of Liga, a girl who lives with her sexually abusive father. Every few months, Liga gets pregnant and her father forces her to abort the pregnancies. When Liga's father dies in a freak accident, she finally carries a pregnancy to term and gives birth to her daughter Branza.
Newly freed from her father, Liga thinks about destroying the bed they had slept in but leaves it because it is her only reminder of her mother. However, Liga's good fortune doesn't last. Not long after Branza's birth, a gang of village boys invade her house and rape her.
(Oh, did I mention this book is marketed as YA? I’m not going to go into why Knopf was smoking crack with this designation, but Peta Andersen has a nice discussion on her blog on the limits of YA.)
But back to the discussion at hand. The following passage broke my heart. This passage appears right after the town boys leave Liga.
Liga only walked, only walked away. Slowly, because to walk was to hurt, she put the distance, step by step, between herself and her father’s house, where all her troubles had happened. No matter now that Mam had died in that bed. At least Da had called on Mam’s memory as he misused it. But that strangers should come, and with no awareness of its sacredness, one by one, have of Liga there, and think that that was the place to do such things – well, Mam must be truly dead and gone, and not watching from anywhere; clearly she was of no help to Liga now.
What was it about this passage that made me feel so deeply for Liga? I think it’s several factors.
1. It taps into the universal mother-child bond and the pain of losing a mother.
2.It invokes a well known symbol (mother as protector), and declares it useless. “Clearly she was of no help to Liga now.” Remember the first time you realized your parents couldn’t protect you from everything?
3.It takes away the one sliver of hope that remained to Liga. Her mother's memory was the only thing that kept Liga going during the years of abuse, and it was really effective to declare that memory useless now. It sent a clear message that Liga had no emotional reserves left.
I imagine these techniques and would work for emotions other than sadness as well. For example, you could have one thread of sadness throughout the story that gets resolved in the end. Actually, there's a good example of that in Princess Academy
. Perhaps fodder for a future post
Do you remember a passage that made you really sad? How did it do that?
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by Margo Lanagan. It’s not for the faint of heart, but I admire the way Lanagan invokes mood and strong emotion in the reader.Tender Morsels tell the story of Liga, a girl who lives with her sexually abusive father. Every few months, Liga gets pregnant and her father forces her to abort the pregnancies. When Liga's father dies in a freak accident, she finally carries a pregnancy to term and gives birth to her daughter Branza.
Newly freed from her father, Liga thinks about destroying the bed they had slept in but leaves it because it is her only reminder of her mother. However, Liga's good fortune doesn't last. Not long after Branza's birth, a gang of village boys invade her house and rape her.
(Oh, did I mention this book is marketed as YA? I’m not going to go into why Knopf was smoking crack with this designation, but Peta Andersen has a nice discussion on her blog on the limits of YA.)
But back to the discussion at hand. The following passage broke my heart. This passage appears right after the town boys leave Liga.
Liga only walked, only walked away. Slowly, because to walk was to hurt, she put the distance, step by step, between herself and her father’s house, where all her troubles had happened. No matter now that Mam had died in that bed. At least Da had called on Mam’s memory as he misused it. But that strangers should come, and with no awareness of its sacredness, one by one, have of Liga there, and think that that was the place to do such things – well, Mam must be truly dead and gone, and not watching from anywhere; clearly she was of no help to Liga now.
What was it about this passage that made me feel so deeply for Liga? I think it’s several factors.
1. It taps into the universal mother-child bond and the pain of losing a mother.
2.It invokes a well known symbol (mother as protector), and declares it useless. “Clearly she was of no help to Liga now.” Remember the first time you realized your parents couldn’t protect you from everything?
3.It takes away the one sliver of hope that remained to Liga. Her mother's memory was the only thing that kept Liga going during the years of abuse, and it was really effective to declare that memory useless now. It sent a clear message that Liga had no emotional reserves left.
I imagine these techniques and would work for emotions other than sadness as well. For example, you could have one thread of sadness throughout the story that gets resolved in the end. Actually, there's a good example of that in Princess Academy
. Perhaps fodder for a future postDo you remember a passage that made you really sad? How did it do that?
Hope you enjoyed the post! To receive regular updates from this blog, use one of the subscription options in the left sidebar.
Fight Scene Blogfest, in which Kyra gets beat up
Edit: Scene taken down pending revisions. 8/1/2010
I may regret this later, but I just found out that there's a fight scene blogfest going on right now. If there's one thing my manuscript doesn't lack, it's fight scenes -- I'm always wracking my brain trying to come up with more original angles. So even though I'm super late, joining in the fun.
Most of my fight scenes are based on my real life experience in jujitsu. My most convincing fight scenes also happen to be the ones where the heroine gets beat up. I'll let you connect the dots there...
Since I'm doing a last minute copy and paste from my office, the writing's still a bit rough. But I guess that's why they call it a work-in-progress.
And here we go!
* * * * *
[Yeah, I took it down. Reading it was making me cringe. Perhaps I'll put up a later version.]
* * * * *
Comments and suggestions welcome! Once I get home, I'm looking forward to reading everybody else's entries.
I may regret this later, but I just found out that there's a fight scene blogfest going on right now. If there's one thing my manuscript doesn't lack, it's fight scenes -- I'm always wracking my brain trying to come up with more original angles. So even though I'm super late, joining in the fun.
Most of my fight scenes are based on my real life experience in jujitsu. My most convincing fight scenes also happen to be the ones where the heroine gets beat up. I'll let you connect the dots there...
Since I'm doing a last minute copy and paste from my office, the writing's still a bit rough. But I guess that's why they call it a work-in-progress.
And here we go!
* * * * *
[Yeah, I took it down. Reading it was making me cringe. Perhaps I'll put up a later version.]
* * * * *
Comments and suggestions welcome! Once I get home, I'm looking forward to reading everybody else's entries.
A Brain Scientist, an Editor, and an Agent Walk Into a Bar
My husband, astronomer and literary snob J Blackburne, welcomed the new year by growing his "winter coat." He argued that beards were basically de rigueur in academia now. All the respectible academics have one.
Given that news, I figured I should probably get one too -- might help me graduate quicker. But alas, after weeks of not shaving, my chin was still silky smooth. I think it's because I'm Asian.
Then later in January, I learned from Simon Larter that it was de rigueur to have a blog contest once you reach 100 followers. Still smarting from my facial hair failure, I thought "By golly, I may have to disappoint academia, but I don't have to disappoint the blogosphere!"
So with that little story , I'm announcing the Neuropublishing Joke Contest. Here are the details:
Open to: Residents of any country for which shipping from Amazon is $10 or less (That includes US, Canada, Europe, and Australia.) You can find more about their shipping here.
Since most of my followers are on RSS rather than Google Friend Connect, I won't make following me a requirement. But if you do use Google Friend Connect, follow me, will ya? It'll give you good karma.
Prize: The winner can choose any book that's been reviewed thus far on my blog.
Rules:
1. Complete one of the following beginnings. You only have to complete one, but feel free to work more than one in.
a) A brain scientist, an agent, and an editor walk into a bar. . .
b) How many brain scientists does it make to write a bestseller?
c) Why did the neuroscientist cross the editor?
2. Post your entry as a comment.
3. After your entry, post the book that you would like if you win. You must specify your book before the judging occurs if you wish to receive a prize. Pretty much any book mentioned in any post is fair game. You can browse through the archives on the right hand sidebar.
4. Up to two entries per person. If you submit more than two entries, I will judge the first two.
5. The contest will end on February 13th 2010 at 11:59pm EST.
6. Tweeting or linking the contest is not required, but encouraged.
7. If you know me personally (ie, I have real life conversations with you on a regular basis), please enter under a pseudoname with a hyperlink to your real website so I'm not swayed by your dashing personality.
Thanks all! This should be fun :-)
Given that news, I figured I should probably get one too -- might help me graduate quicker. But alas, after weeks of not shaving, my chin was still silky smooth. I think it's because I'm Asian.
Then later in January, I learned from Simon Larter that it was de rigueur to have a blog contest once you reach 100 followers. Still smarting from my facial hair failure, I thought "By golly, I may have to disappoint academia, but I don't have to disappoint the blogosphere!"
So with that little story , I'm announcing the Neuropublishing Joke Contest. Here are the details:
Open to: Residents of any country for which shipping from Amazon is $10 or less (That includes US, Canada, Europe, and Australia.) You can find more about their shipping here.
Since most of my followers are on RSS rather than Google Friend Connect, I won't make following me a requirement. But if you do use Google Friend Connect, follow me, will ya? It'll give you good karma.
Prize: The winner can choose any book that's been reviewed thus far on my blog.
Rules:
1. Complete one of the following beginnings. You only have to complete one, but feel free to work more than one in.
a) A brain scientist, an agent, and an editor walk into a bar. . .
b) How many brain scientists does it make to write a bestseller?
c) Why did the neuroscientist cross the editor?
2. Post your entry as a comment.
3. After your entry, post the book that you would like if you win. You must specify your book before the judging occurs if you wish to receive a prize. Pretty much any book mentioned in any post is fair game. You can browse through the archives on the right hand sidebar.
4. Up to two entries per person. If you submit more than two entries, I will judge the first two.
5. The contest will end on February 13th 2010 at 11:59pm EST.
6. Tweeting or linking the contest is not required, but encouraged.
7. If you know me personally (ie, I have real life conversations with you on a regular basis), please enter under a pseudoname with a hyperlink to your real website so I'm not swayed by your dashing personality.
Thanks all! This should be fun :-)
Is Fast Paced Always Good?
First, let me emphasize that I liked the beginning of Graceling
. In fact, I wrote an entire entry explaining why I liked it. So this is not about what Graceling did right or wrong, but rather the tradeoffs we make when going from one set of storytelling conventions to the other.
A while ago, I wrote a guest post at Guide to Literary Agents on seven reasons agents stop reading your first chapter. Reason number 2 was "slow beginnings." Some manuscripts start with too much pedestrian detail and unnecessary background information, losing the reader.
Upon reading the article, my husband (astronomer and literary snob J. Blackburne) asked me, “But what about all the old classics that begin really slowly?” I told him that many classics would not be published in today's market. He said that was dumb. I said he was dumb. And we continued with dinner preparations.*
That discussion didn't bother me that much. While I do enjoy some classics, and while I appreciate the literary value of all of them in principle, when I actually sit down and try to slog my way through 30+ introductory pages about a clergyman who isn't even a main character
**, I get impatient and reach for Stephenie Meyer Harry Potter the latest Newbury winner***.
It wasn't until I started thinking about Graceling for my blog that the conversation came back to mind. Graceling’s beginning is well done in the modern sense. It begins with action at a point of change, grabbing the reader and engaging them right away.
The book is about Katsa, a girl graced with an ability to kill, who grew up as a thug for the King because of her deadly talent. The narrative opens at a point of change, as Katsa begins to realize she doesn’t have to be under her uncle’s control. A major character arc involves her gradual realization that she’s not the savage she always thought, but someone who can choose to do good.
While I appreciated this change in Katsa, I don’t think I experienced it to its full potential. Why? Because the story started with Katsa at the point of change. When I met Katsa, she was already making her first steps of rebellion against her uncle. With the exception of a few flashbacks, I never saw those years when she was doing his dirty work, torturing and killing people. Therefore, when she wondered whether her past crimes made her a monster, my reaction was, “What are you talking about? I’ve only seen you perform good and heroic acts.”
Would my experience as a reader have been different if Graceling had been written under a different set of expectations for plotting and pace? What if it had been written in an era where it was okay to just spend time with the character without advancing the plot? Could I have met her earlier, and thus appreciated her transformation more?
What do you think? Are we losing out on parts of the story because of the fast paced modern novel?
*As you can tell, we're madly in love.
**I know, I know, it's really good. I'll try again to read it at some point...
*** Don't judge me.
. In fact, I wrote an entire entry explaining why I liked it. So this is not about what Graceling did right or wrong, but rather the tradeoffs we make when going from one set of storytelling conventions to the other.A while ago, I wrote a guest post at Guide to Literary Agents on seven reasons agents stop reading your first chapter. Reason number 2 was "slow beginnings." Some manuscripts start with too much pedestrian detail and unnecessary background information, losing the reader.
Upon reading the article, my husband (astronomer and literary snob J. Blackburne) asked me, “But what about all the old classics that begin really slowly?” I told him that many classics would not be published in today's market. He said that was dumb. I said he was dumb. And we continued with dinner preparations.*
That discussion didn't bother me that much. While I do enjoy some classics, and while I appreciate the literary value of all of them in principle, when I actually sit down and try to slog my way through 30+ introductory pages about a clergyman who isn't even a main character
**, I get impatient and reach for It wasn't until I started thinking about Graceling for my blog that the conversation came back to mind. Graceling’s beginning is well done in the modern sense. It begins with action at a point of change, grabbing the reader and engaging them right away.
The book is about Katsa, a girl graced with an ability to kill, who grew up as a thug for the King because of her deadly talent. The narrative opens at a point of change, as Katsa begins to realize she doesn’t have to be under her uncle’s control. A major character arc involves her gradual realization that she’s not the savage she always thought, but someone who can choose to do good.
While I appreciated this change in Katsa, I don’t think I experienced it to its full potential. Why? Because the story started with Katsa at the point of change. When I met Katsa, she was already making her first steps of rebellion against her uncle. With the exception of a few flashbacks, I never saw those years when she was doing his dirty work, torturing and killing people. Therefore, when she wondered whether her past crimes made her a monster, my reaction was, “What are you talking about? I’ve only seen you perform good and heroic acts.”
Would my experience as a reader have been different if Graceling had been written under a different set of expectations for plotting and pace? What if it had been written in an era where it was okay to just spend time with the character without advancing the plot? Could I have met her earlier, and thus appreciated her transformation more?
What do you think? Are we losing out on parts of the story because of the fast paced modern novel?
*As you can tell, we're madly in love.
**I know, I know, it's really good. I'll try again to read it at some point...
*** Don't judge me.
The Role of Repetition in Prose
I love it when people see new discussion points in my examples. In my last post, I used a passage from Graceling to illustrate creative internal narration. If you didn't read that post, you may want to hop over to get the full passage and context.
Peta Andersen noticed something else about that passage:
Great examples - it's kind of cinematic, isn't it?
I'm wondering, though, about this section:
"She didn't see where Giddon came off feeling insulted. She didn't see how Giddon had any place in it at all. Who were they, to take her fight away from her and turn it into some sort of understanding between themselves?"
The rest of the text is so tight that adding "she didn't see" is distracting. Katsa doesn't need to explain that she doesn't see something because we're in her head. She doesn't need to frame her thoughts as if they were dialogue, either.
Cashore is a strong writer; if I had to guess, I'd say she left the phrase in for two reasons:
1. Cadence - spoken aloud, the lines sound better, and give the text a more aural feel.
2. Atmosphere/tension - the repetition builds tension, leading into Katsa' frustration with Giddon. It's almost like a refrain.
Thanks for the observation, Peta! Anyone else have good examples of selective repeating?
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to illustrate creative internal narration. If you didn't read that post, you may want to hop over to get the full passage and context.Peta Andersen noticed something else about that passage:
Great examples - it's kind of cinematic, isn't it?
I'm wondering, though, about this section:
"She didn't see where Giddon came off feeling insulted. She didn't see how Giddon had any place in it at all. Who were they, to take her fight away from her and turn it into some sort of understanding between themselves?"
The rest of the text is so tight that adding "she didn't see" is distracting. Katsa doesn't need to explain that she doesn't see something because we're in her head. She doesn't need to frame her thoughts as if they were dialogue, either.
Cashore is a strong writer; if I had to guess, I'd say she left the phrase in for two reasons:
1. Cadence - spoken aloud, the lines sound better, and give the text a more aural feel.
2. Atmosphere/tension - the repetition builds tension, leading into Katsa' frustration with Giddon. It's almost like a refrain.
Thanks for the observation, Peta! Anyone else have good examples of selective repeating?
For regular updates to this blog, please use the subscription options in the left sidebar.
Creative Showing in Graceling
Kristin Cashore does a great job of narrating the main character Katsa's thoughts in Graceling. For lack of a better term, I'm going to call it indirect internal observation. You could also think of it as creative showing -- conveying the character's state of mind without simply stating it, but also without going to the physical descriptions we often fall back on when we're trying to "show, not tell."
Here's the first example. Katsa just met Po, a prince who is graced, like her, with combat skills. They have a fight that ends amiably but leaves them both pretty bruised. Later, they run into Giddon, a friend of Katsa's, who is furious to see that Po scratched Katsa's face in the fight. Giddon reaches for his sword and accuses Po of disrespect.
"Lord Giddon." Po had risen to his feet...."If I've insulted your lady," he said, "you must forgive me. . ."
Giddon didn't take his hand from his sword, but his grimace lessened.
"I'm sorry to have insulted you, as well," Po said. "I see now I should've taken greater care of her face. Forgive me. It was unpardonable." He reached his hand across the table.
Giddon's angry eyes grew warm again. He reached out and shook Po's hand. "You understand my concern." Giddon said.
"Of course."
Katsa looked from one of them to the other, the two of them shaking hands, understanding each other's concern. She didn't see where Giddon came off feeling insulted. She didn't see how Giddon had any place in it at all. Who were they, to take her fight away from her and turn it into some sort of understanding between themselves? He should've taken more care of her face? She would knock his nose from his face. She would thump them both, and she did would apologize to neither.
Po caught her eyes then, and she did nothing to soften the silent fury she sent across the table to him. "Shall we sit?" someone said. Po held her eyes as they sat. . . he mouthed two words. It was as clear as if he'd said them aloud. "Forgive me."
Well.
Giddon was still a horse's ass.
That last line cracks me up every time. I love how Katsa's personality comes through here, and I love the indirectness of the last line, like she's arguing with herself about whether to be angry or not. The thought that's conveyed is "Well, perhaps Po wasn't all that bad," but it's so much more colorful to say "Well, Giddon was still a horse's ass."
Here's another example from later in the book, when Katsa spends time with an attractive man who has the grace of mind reading. To save herself from embarrassment, she has to keep herself from thinking about his good looks in his presence.
She glanced up at him, and in that moment he pulled his wet shirt over his head. She forced her mind blank. Blank as a new sheet of paper, blank as a starless sky. He came to the fire and crouched before it. He rubbed the water from his bare arms and flicked it in the flames. She stared at the goose and sliced his drumstick carefully and thought of the blankest expression on the blankest face she could possibly imagine. It was a chilly evening; she thought about that. The goose would be delicious, they must eat as much of it as possible, they must not waste it; she thought about that.
It never once explicitly says "Katsa did her best not to be distracted by his rippling muscles," but we get the idea.
What's your favorite non physical description way of showing a character's thoughts?
Hope you enjoyed the post! To get regular updates from this blog, please use the subscribe options on the left sidebar.
. For lack of a better term, I'm going to call it indirect internal observation. You could also think of it as creative showing -- conveying the character's state of mind without simply stating it, but also without going to the physical descriptions we often fall back on when we're trying to "show, not tell."Here's the first example. Katsa just met Po, a prince who is graced, like her, with combat skills. They have a fight that ends amiably but leaves them both pretty bruised. Later, they run into Giddon, a friend of Katsa's, who is furious to see that Po scratched Katsa's face in the fight. Giddon reaches for his sword and accuses Po of disrespect.
"Lord Giddon." Po had risen to his feet...."If I've insulted your lady," he said, "you must forgive me. . ."
Giddon didn't take his hand from his sword, but his grimace lessened.
"I'm sorry to have insulted you, as well," Po said. "I see now I should've taken greater care of her face. Forgive me. It was unpardonable." He reached his hand across the table.
Giddon's angry eyes grew warm again. He reached out and shook Po's hand. "You understand my concern." Giddon said.
"Of course."
Katsa looked from one of them to the other, the two of them shaking hands, understanding each other's concern. She didn't see where Giddon came off feeling insulted. She didn't see how Giddon had any place in it at all. Who were they, to take her fight away from her and turn it into some sort of understanding between themselves? He should've taken more care of her face? She would knock his nose from his face. She would thump them both, and she did would apologize to neither.
Po caught her eyes then, and she did nothing to soften the silent fury she sent across the table to him. "Shall we sit?" someone said. Po held her eyes as they sat. . . he mouthed two words. It was as clear as if he'd said them aloud. "Forgive me."
Well.
Giddon was still a horse's ass.
That last line cracks me up every time. I love how Katsa's personality comes through here, and I love the indirectness of the last line, like she's arguing with herself about whether to be angry or not. The thought that's conveyed is "Well, perhaps Po wasn't all that bad," but it's so much more colorful to say "Well, Giddon was still a horse's ass."
Here's another example from later in the book, when Katsa spends time with an attractive man who has the grace of mind reading. To save herself from embarrassment, she has to keep herself from thinking about his good looks in his presence.
She glanced up at him, and in that moment he pulled his wet shirt over his head. She forced her mind blank. Blank as a new sheet of paper, blank as a starless sky. He came to the fire and crouched before it. He rubbed the water from his bare arms and flicked it in the flames. She stared at the goose and sliced his drumstick carefully and thought of the blankest expression on the blankest face she could possibly imagine. It was a chilly evening; she thought about that. The goose would be delicious, they must eat as much of it as possible, they must not waste it; she thought about that.
It never once explicitly says "Katsa did her best not to be distracted by his rippling muscles," but we get the idea.
What's your favorite non physical description way of showing a character's thoughts?
Hope you enjoyed the post! To get regular updates from this blog, please use the subscribe options on the left sidebar.
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