Tag Archives: story arc

Give It To Me Straight – Fates and Furies (Part 1/3)

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Then, play it again.

Fates and furiesReaders of Fates and Furies find a big story of modern marriage and relationship wrapped between the covers of this National Book Award Finalist. Lauren Groff’s novel offers a wealth of literary resources with her creative reinvention of structure, style and character. This three part analysis begins with storytelling and structure.

The Straight Line – Sequential Plot

Lancelot, nicknamed Lotto, tells his story for the first half of the book, almost two hundred pages in this four hundred page novel. In The Detroit Free Press  published interview, Lauren Groff  refers to her story as a tale of privilege. Let me count the ways that Lotto is privileged. First, he has fortune when he needs it and choses to surrender his fortune for his desires. Second, he has success. Maybe he was lucky or worked hard. Or maybe he fits the description of privilege – well educated, wealthy, male and white. Third, characters surround him, offer support and champion his cause – especially his wife. These factors propel Lotto’s story to the forefront and the first half of the book.

The point of view begins omniscient as the reader sees the first married union of Lotto and Mathilde – lest it be thought that the entire story is about Lotto. From there, the point of view shifts to a deep third in Lotto’s point of view. His story dips back to his birth with a clever device of repeating a story told many times to him. Time moves forward with Lotto’s perceptions dominating the story of his friends, his dreams and his marriage to mystery woman, Mathilde.

The Jagged Line – Fractured Plot

Mathilde, the wife, encourages readers to identify with her rage. Let me count the ways that Mathilde is angry. First, as a child, she is blamed for a deadly mean streak, shamed and never forgiven. Her survival depends on distant relatives who have no concern for her wellbeing. Second, egotistical and pretentious Lotto is the best part of her life, and without him, she is the devastated widow – her education and hard work unraveled without her center, her husband. Third, Mathilde believes she is “the interesting one.” Mathilde’s past is an example of the writer pushing a character to the outer limits of believability. Themes of inequality thread through the novel. In Lotto’s point of view, he blindly accepts Mathilde’s lack of family and friends. Mathilde’s half of the novel, another two hundred pages, tells her scrambled tragic version of her life story.

Mathilde’s narration alternates between her angry widow world and chapters revealing her  past and the formation of her values and beliefs. Mathilde selectively takes the reader through her childhood slowly opening the doors to understand her motives. Mathilde’s mean streak dots every chapter for the reader. Her only softness comes for the man she marries, and he is not spared from her passive aggressive ways.

Play It Again – Story Arc

Throw the traditional story arc in the trash for this novel except that Lotto’s half of the book is fairly traditional. Mathilde’s point of view jumps back in time and returns to her widowed agony almost like a zigzag across a graph of time. Unlike parallel plots, this story challenges even the most ambitious of screenwriter. For example, The Girl on the Train uses multiple points of view, slowly revealing a suspenseful and complicated plot arc. And hence, bestseller becomes screenplay and film. Some stories succeed with repetition – a retry of the same idea like the “back to square one” game – as used in the movie, Groundhog Day, and new Sci-fi film, Edge of Tomorrow; Live, Die, Repeat. Each repetition moves the story one step further.

Groff’s repetition, however, drills beneath what the reader assumed was the true story. For every major event in Lotto’s life, the reader now sees the hand of Mathilde. Her callous placement of an obituary notice punishes Lotto for his abandonment. She deliberately denies Lotto the children he wants. And Mathilde leverages everything to make her husband and his plays successful. In Mathilde’s story, vengefulness and anger are ever present – from the bruising of a teasing schoolmate to the personal and financial destruction of Lotto’s best friend.

In her interview, Groff states she planned to publish the two stories separately. The two halves together form a rich comparison in structure, style and character. The next post “It’s Greek To Me” will examine Groff’s style and literary references. After that, a third post will explore character and the human psychology of relationship and attraction. As seen in structure, marriage “For Better or For Worse” is a risky endeavor.

 

Diary of a Binge Reader

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Donna Tartt’s, The Goldfinch, hijacked my social life for the past two weeks. And consequently, my life as a binge reader emerged once again.

For months, I can exist perfectly content on my diet of short stories. Then, the unwieldy novel finds me unsatisfied in my 5000 word count stories, lures me to a world of plots with multiple characters and offers a new captivating world to enjoy and forget the everyday mundane. The process begins innocently enough — an evening hour in a big chair with my feet up, a chapter instead of dinner, an alarm set earlier to read before breakfast, and eventually the pages of a 784 page tome reluctantly parted across my sleeping self — until in the middle of the night, the book falls, thudding loudly against the floor, startling the dog who barks and wakes the household and next door neighbors.

How does this happen to me? I confess a predilection for Donna Tartt’s brand of storytelling. Is Tartt’s magic the plot or the theme? A diagram from the NY Book Editors shows themes of prize winning novels in 2014. The Goldfinch won the 2014 Pulitzer Prize and contains many of the plot lines of prize-winning novels: unlikely friendships, betrayal, terrorism, death, theft, school days, running away, criminal gangs, love and suicide. Other winning plots include less appealing topics: cannibalism, East London, homicidal cowboy brothers, an escaped tiger, horniness, jazz, nanny trust issues, a mysterious letter, Totalitarian Bucharest, and war. As to plot, Tartt chose well except I am intrigued by the cowboy idea.

Screenshot 2015-10-02 23.18.45The NY Book Editors post also includes speculation on what makes an interesting story. The answer is a good story arc. Larry Brooks’ Story Engineering also covers these topics along with a bevy of books about story structure. In “Writing Fiction Like a Pro” by Steve Alcorn, the classic three act structure includes nine dramatic elements. For the elements, I included a sketch by fellow writer and classmate, Mame Zirro.

Act 1 introduces the characters, the setting and the story. Through The Goldfinch’s adolescent narrator, Theo, the reader meets his mother and learns the critical backstory. The trigger is the plot point that propels the protagonist into Act 2. It is also called the inciting incident or the door that the character passes through that cannot be undone. Theo’s plot point occurs after the museum explosion. Surrounded by debris, Theo meets Welty and follows his advice. With his mother missing and his theft of a famous masterpiece, he cannot go back to his former life.

Act 2 is the middle of the story. Our boy, Theo, is in crisis – dead mother, abandoned by his father, nowhere to go, no one to turn to, stolen painting, and dead man’s ring. Imagine a horizontal graph of time. After the beginning first act, the middle second act extends for the bulk of the novel. In the case of The Goldfinch, Act 2 is 400-500 pages of Theo’s escalating struggles with his friend’s family, his father’s return, his misadventures in Las Vegas and his betrayal of father-figure Hobart.

Act 2 ends with another plot point. This time the story veers in an unexpected direction. Act 3 is the shortest in duration and the highest point of tension. While Act 2 concentrated on the emotional story and struggles of the protagonist, Act 3 is all plot. Theo is older and burdened by his theft and loss of the famous Fabritius painting of The Goldfinch. His epiphany guides him to a new course of action, a solution for the greater good and his final plan to save the painting, actually several plans, since nothing in a Tartt novel will work the first time. The climax ends where the story began in Amsterdam. I will leave the ending untold for future readers to enjoy. Suffice it to say, Act 3 resolves Theo’s many problems.

The three act structure probably has as many critics as Donna Tartt. Some argue for more than three acts and others for less, such as the simplicity of creating a problem and resolving a problem. The internet displays diagrams of pinch points and new takes on structure with grids, circles and even circus tents. As for Donna Tartt, even the literary crowd disagrees on whether this is a fabulous adult novel or a Harry Potter-esque children’s book. Reviews on Goodreads offer accounts of unfinished readings (no doubt from quitters, wimps and lightweights) in contrast to exhilarating comments about the plot and characters.

For this novel with a massive three act structure, my vote is yes. Read it. But don’t drop it on your foot. Don’t try to fit it in your backpack or purse. And don’t drop it in the middle of the night unless you want to risk a call to 911 from the neighbors.

Four E’s of Public Readings

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Karens picWith less than one week before my first public reading, I panic. Oh sure, I’ve read at writers workshops, but other writers expect flat expressionless words and concentrate on the print. I usually flub a few words, stumble along internally editing as I read and neglect any attention to how I sound. I’m a terrible reader, and now I’m subjecting an innocent and unsuspecting audience not only to my words but also my reading.

My story of 1500 words takes almost fifteen minutes to read aloud. Ten minutes is the ideal length according to Randy Susan Meyer of the Huffington Post in “Ten Tips for Writers Reading in Public.”  Now if I could channel my inner George Saunders, I might finish in five minutes. He races through the audio recordings of his stories in the Tenth of December.  His reading pace creates “excitement” which is one of the goals for writers reading in public.

Meyer recommends to either “entertain, enlighten, excite, engage” and always smile. From the four E’s, I decide to “engage” the audience. Eye contact is the key. And if I remember to smile, that’s an added bonus.

Now comes the tough part – practicing. I find an old copy of my story with critique comments. My writing group’s questions, comments and quandary float in the margins of my hardcopy. The comments are my target list of places to add extra emphasis and accomplish the equivalent of saying, “Don’t miss this. It’s important.”

I underline words and mark places for voice inflection. My story becomes a musical score with crescendos and decrescendos. I add a few staccatos and mark the tempo changes fast and slow.

My biggest struggle is conveying changes in speakers – the ones without attribution tags. In print, a reader can see the carriage return to the next line. My solutions include moving a non-verbal action by the speaker to the beginning of the sentence, pausing before changing speakers, and varying the rate of speech for each character.

I draw on what I learned at previous jobs. Big companies with hordes of human relations people — scheduling training every time you stand from your desk to fetch a cup of coffee — develop employees with twenty-first century skills, such as presenting and communicating. I benefit from years of presentations and public speaking classes.

Thank you HR. I love you and take back all the mean things I said

about your training programs. You made me a better person.

I know how to stand and where to look. Practice eliminates little distractions, such as turning or flipping pages. My pages are in a leather binder to prevent my shaking hands from spoiling the illusion that I know what I’m doing.

Writer’s Relief, “Open Mike Night: Ten Tips For Reading Your Writing In Public,” provides useful tips: arrive early, use a big font, and dress professionally. As a writer, however, I want to know how early, how big and what is considered a writer’s professional clothes. Will I have a podium to set my notes?  Or will I stand alone behind a microphone?  I choose slacks and heels and rock the “I just left the office thirty minutes ago” look.

My preparation includes watching videos of accomplished writers at public readings. I’m fascinated by Sherman Alexie. Critics call him a stand-up comic. He writes. He jokes. He makes films. He entertains.

Karens second picWriters Relief also advises what appears to be obvious. “Maintain an audible volume.”  At my reading, my personal cheering section sits beside me. When another writer stands to read, one of my cheerleaders whispers, “Read louder and slower than that.”

Thanks to my pre-worries and research, my nervousness disappears when I begin reading. I make eye contact and people smile at me. At one point in the reading, I notice the room is silent and listening. This wonderful audience cares about my crazy made-up characters. They laugh at the right spots and respond with thunderous applause. Thank you, gracious audience. Then, I remember to smile.

Tags: Public readings, Randy Susan Meyers, Huffington Post, Writer’s Relief, George Saunders, Sherman Alexie