Tell, Don't Show

by Charlotte Hinger

One of the most misunderstood "rules" in writing successful novels is the instruction to "Show, don't tell." Sometimes a story moves more quickly when the writer uses the limited omniscience viewpoint. An engaging narrative voice using descriptive details can jump start mysteries. 

One of my favorite book about the craft of writing is The Successful Novelist by David Morrell. It includes an excellent chapter on viewpoint. He describes his struggles with the beginning of his novel, First Blood. The book is a literary novel, by the way. He warns readers it's nothing like the movie. And it isn't.

He tried limited third person through Rambo's eyes. It didn't work. He tried alternating third person between Rambo and Teasle, the relentless policeman. He still wasn't happy with the beginning. Then he came up with this:

His name was Rambo, and he was just some nothing kid for all anybody knew, standing by the pump of a gas station on the outskirts of  Madison, Kentucky. He had a long heavy beard, and his hair was hanging down over his ears to his neck, and he had his hand out trying to thumb a ride from a car that was stopped at the pump. 

Other best-selling authors begin books with limited omniscience.  

Consider this beginning from Tana French's best seller, In the Woods:  

Picture a summer stolen whole from some coming-of-age film set in a small-town 1950s. This is none of Ireland's subtle seasons mixed for a connoisseur's palate. . . ." 

Of the beginning of Elizabeth George's novel, A Place of Hiding:

Santa Ana winds were no friends of photography, but that was something you could not tell an egomanical architect who believed his entire reputation rested upon capturing for posterity--and for Architectural Digest--fifty-two thousand square feet of unfinished hillside sprawl today. 

In my historical novel, Come Spring, one of my early paragraphs began:

She was a frail watercolor of a woman, very slight, with yellow hair and pale, sensitive blue eyes that could become pridefully unreadable in an instant. In another setting she would have been lovely but the prairie sun was too strong for her. It bleached her out--her hair, her skin, her very soul--with its harshness.  

Morrell recommends experimenting with different points of view. 

One rule that I consider set in stone is this: If something works, it works.  

O for Organization

When I attended the Western Writer's of American convention last month, I had an opportunity to visit with David Morrell after a panel. David is the author of First Blood, a literary book which is nothing at all like the movie. There is some resemblance between Rambo in the book and Rambo in the movie, but not much. As to the actual story--no resemblance whatsoever.

David has a PhD in literature and left a tenured position at the University of Iowa to write full time. After our visit, I downloaded his non-fiction book, The Successful Novelist. I've read so many "how to write" books, that I wasn't expecting anything new. To my amazement, this was one of the best books on the art and craft of writing a novel I've ever read. I shouldn't have been surprised. This man certainly has the credentials, including a plethora of awards. 

When a book is this good I also want a physical copy. It will be here soon. 

Since I taught myself to write by reading books about writing, then optimistically attempting to do as the lessons instructed, I can say with some authority that older "how to write" books used be a lot more useful than contemporary books which are basically an overview of the industry. His book is the exception. It's wildly superior to books in print about developing craftsmanship.

The Successful Novelist is loaded with nuts and bolts advice. His chapters on plot, characterization, and structure are outstanding. 

Oddly enough, the chapter that threw me into a fit of anxiety was that of Frequently Asked Questions. The student wanted to know "Is it okay to throw drafts out after the book has been published?"

Morrell gives detail instructions for collecting and preserving various drafts. Forever. You start with a big box that includes all the drafts, correspondence with agents and editors, research, reviews and publicity materials. Everything. His advice is to save everything. At the end of each year, he sends copies of these materials to the Special Collections Department at the University of Iowa's library. 

Whew!

His advice threw me into high gear because I need to start organizing all of my stuff. After reading about his system, I found myself cherry-picking his methods. Yes to this. No to that. Absolutely yes to a file box with material regarding a specific novel. No to all the drafts. Wouldn't a memory stick work just as well? I don't have that much room. For that matter, why not scan all the information?

Thinking about it, won't get it done. I've tried that.