Tag: plot

Is Setting the Least Important Element of Fiction?

January 21, 2019 / Kyle A. Massa

Setting

Hey, reader. Check out this Twitter poll:

An evil interdimensional being appears and demands to eat one essential element of fiction writing. Which are you offering up?
— ProWritingAid (@ProWritingAid) October 15, 2018

I work for this company. We’re called ProWritingAid and we make a super-powered editing app that helps writers improve at writing. It’s a great company, and I’m not just saying that because I work there.

Anyway, we run Twitter polls such as these every week or so. I was struck by the results of this one. Sure, we do have a limited sample size here (just 20 votes), but we still see an overwhelming majority. Many writers, it seems, prioritize character and plot over setting.

Based on my own work and the work of others, this sentiment feels accurate. Anecdotally speaking, many writers care most about Who and What—less so about Where.

So does that make setting the least important component of fiction? Maybe. But does that make it inessential? Hardly. Here’s why you can’t allow any interdimensional beings to eat your setting.

Setting Amplifies Character and Plot

In the aforementioned Twitter pole, let’s say you voted for character or plot. Good vote, voter—I probably would’ve done the same. But for most stories, setting has a profound influence on the other two elements.

I experienced this truth first-hand when writing my novel Gerald Barkley Rocks. I initially imagined the story taking place in Los Angeles, California. Julian Strange, whose death ignites the plot, is a washed-up rock-and-roll singer. His neighbor, Carmen Fowler, is a retired actress. And a significant portion of the story concerns themes of fame. Los Angeles seemed like the perfect setting.

Yet in the early drafts, I thought I might experiment with a different city. My wife and I lived in Colorado at the time, so I tried moving my story to Denver. I submitted these new chapters to my writers’ group, and the flaws were obvious: several people thought my book just wasn’t the same if it took place anywhere but Los Angeles. I ended up agreeing.

Setting supports both characters and plot. My characters are L.A. characters. My plot is an L.A. plot. If an interdimensional being devoured my setting, it wouldn’t be the same story.

Are There Exceptions?

Definitely. For example, I recently read Salman Rushdie’s Two Years, Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights. Yes, this book has a setting. But I’d say it takes a backseat to what happens, and who makes it happen.

This isn’t the most scientific analysis, but I must admit, I don’t remember where this story takes place. I think New York City is mentioned and the beginning takes place in the ancient Middle East, but otherwise the setting doesn’t factor into the story much at all.

The same cannot be said of the book’s characters or plot. I vividly remember characters like Ibn Rushid, Dunia, and Jimmy Kapoor. I can recall pretty much everything that happens, too. Again, not scientific, but I think it’s telling. Thin settings can be easily excused by strong characters and conflicts.

Does That Make Setting the Least Important Element of Fiction?

I think we should treat this question more as a thought experiment and less as a serious consideration. Asking which element of fiction is least important is like asking which essential bodily function is least important; if we lose any of them, we lose everything.

Still, I think this pole highlights an important lesson for all writers: don’t undervalue setting. Yes, some writers, like Salman Rushdie, can write great books with fuzzy settings. For the rest of us, setting is just as essential as ever.

See ya, evil interdimensional being. We’re keeping our setting!

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction. His debut novel, Gerald Barkley Rocks, is available now on Amazon Kindle.

3 Mistakes Writers Make When Writing Dialogue (And How to Fix Them)

June 11, 2018 / Kyle A. Massa

Good dialogue is a pleasure to read. However, writing dialogue is not always a pleasure to create. As with any difficult task, sometimes we make mistakes.

Fortunately for you, I make mistakes all the time. So here are three mistakes I’ve made when writing dialogue, along with some thoughts on how to avoid them. Hope you can learn something from it!

1. Overdoing Voice

Conventional wisdom states that every character should have a unique voice. While this is true, sometimes we writers make the mistake of taking this tip too far. For instance, I remember writing a character whose every other line ended with the word “chief.” Some examples:

“You gonna finish that, chief?”

“That’s it, chief, go that way.”

“Chief, you better listen to me. I’m about to lose it.”

Don’t worry, I’m laughing at it, too. Unintentional comedy is often the funniest kind.

Anyway, we definitely want our characters to have unique voices. But we also want them to sound like real people, not repetitive weirdos. Some writers overpack their characters’ dialogue with “ums” and “you knows.” Others overdo accents, turning every “your” into “yer” and every “isn’t” into “ain’t.” To be clear, I’m not calling these techniques useless. Let’s just remember that a little goes a long way.

Of note: I think it’s useful to exaggerate dialogue in early drafts. Doing so oftentimes helps us get a strong grasp of the character. In the first draft, put in as many “chiefs” as you like. Just don’t forget to scale it back to a reasonable level.

2. Being Expository

“I’m feeling so conflicted right now,” said Solara. “I could get the vanilla, but I really like chocolate. I only have enough for one scoop. Such a dilemma!”

This dialogue is just as bad as the guy who says chief all the time—maybe worse. Dialogue is at its best when it’s subtle rather than heavy-handed. When characters state exactly what they think, it feels inauthentic. People rarely say exactly what’s on their minds. Rather, they more often hint at it through subtext.

When I feel like my dialogue is too expository, I often define the information I’m trying to impart, then decide how to show that information without stating it. In the above example, Solara might instead ask her friends, “Have you had the vanilla here before?” Or maybe she asks for sample of both flavors, thinks a moment then says, “Wait. Sorry. Can I try them one more time? Please?” There are plenty of ways to show that the character’s conflicted without injecting that exact message into our dialogue.

3. Relying Too Heavily on Dialogue

People talking I studied screenwriting in college. Afterward, I switched over to prose. I’ve stayed there ever since. The funny thing is, sometimes you might read my manuscripts and think you’re reading a movie script. Sometimes I get into a mode where my scenes are all dialogue and no description.

If you’re writing prose, using too much dialogue is like buying a tool kit and only using the hammer. The novel form grants us access to the authorial voice, so we should use it. If we try to develop everything with dialogue (character, backstory, plot, setting, conflict), we run the risk of committing mistake number two.

Of course, there are exceptions. Dave Eggers’s Your Fathers, Where Are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever? is a novel written entirely as dialogue. But this is an outlier. And let’s not forget that it was written by a guy who wrote seven other novels.

For those writing prose, dialogue is a tasty steak—but only when seasoned correctly. Think of non-dialogue sentences as your spices.

In Conclusion

Yes, writing dialogue is sometimes a pain. But that only means it’s a worthwhile pursuit. Let’s avoid these mistakes. Let’s stay determined. And please, let’s not write any characters who call people “chief.” Sorry for that.

Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his fiancee and their two cats. His stories have appeared in numerous online magazines, including Allegory, Chantwood, and Dark Fire Fiction.

Chunk Writing and Why It Might Work For You

September 25, 2017 / Kyle A. Massa

I’m sure you’ve heard the proverb “there are many ways to skin a cat.” I myself find this phrase distasteful, if not downright alarming. However, the general idea is still relevant, especially to writing.

Let’s rephrase it. There are many ways to write a book. (Be nice to cats.)

Part of writing long-form narratives is discovering what works best for us. Learn how others write, but don’t feel the need to copy them.

I’ve found a process that works for me. I didn’t invent it, but so far as I know, I did invent the name for it. I call it chunk writing (patent pending).

No, chunk writing is not treating yourself to chunks of food while writing (though it could be, if that works for you). Chunk writing—or at least the version of it I’d like to describe today—is exactly what it sounds like: writing a story in chunks. They need not be, and often aren’t, in chronological order. Rather, you come up with individual scenes you’re excited about, write them, then string them together.

For Starters

I begin chunk writing with a character. Imagine, for example, a story about a cat named Mittens who’s searching for his favorite litter box. (The main character is a cat because I like cats. Also, we’re still making amends to the cat community for that comment at the beginning.)

It’s often best to start with a character you love. Character should almost always drive plot, so be sure you’re invested in this person (or feline). You could also start with a setting, or a scene, or a line of dialogue. Again, writing is all about what works best for you.

Once you’ve found your starting point, write it down on an index card. Or a word document, a piece of paper, a stone tablet—whatever you dig most. Ask yourself some questions: who is this person? What are they searching for? Familiarize yourself with your character.

Next Steps

Most stories are about a journey. Characters start somewhere, then end up somewhere else. With that thought in mind, write an index card for the beginning of your story and another for the end. The challenge is getting from one point to the other.

For this part, I tend to focus on the scenes I’m most excited to write. This keeps me invested in the story I’m telling.

Let’s jump back to the story of Mittens the crusading cat. I’m hyped to write the scene where Mittens confronts his nemesis the vacuum cleaner. Therefore, this should be one of the first notecards I create. You can fill in the less important (and sometimes less interesting) transitional chapters later.

Elmore Leonard said that you shouldn’t bother writing the parts your readers will skip. While you might want to write them anyway and cut them from the final product, the index card method gives you a preliminary feel for your chapters. If the index card itself feels boring or unimportant, you might not commit time to fleshing it out.

Pulling It All Together

Once I’ve got some index cards I’m excited about, I start writing! At this stage, I don’t worry about revisions. I might go back and switch out an index card or make some mental notes for later. The most important thing is just to get the words down.

While chunk writing might sound like a lot of work upfront, I’ve found that it creates a better final product. For me, it gives direction without the rigidity of an outline.

Everyone’s writing process is different. I hope these tips prove useful, but I doubt the exact same methods will work for you. Just keep writing and discovering. And be nice to cats.