Learn Writing with Uncle Jim, Volume 1

:wriggles the character on a stick in front of the reader, hoping for a reaction:

Thanks Uncle Jim and friends. Helpful as always.

Give your unlikeable character a strong goal or desire.

Readers will identify with the goal, and with the struggles the character endures to achieve that goal, even if the character is a lowdown dirty rat.

I'd have to turn the page, because I didn't draw all the information out of that paragraph as you did in your line by line.

If I looked at every book I read like that line by line, I'd never finish one book.

The interworkings of the line by line is interesting and shows me how in just one paprgraph one can give a lot of info. Though, as a reader, I wouldn't catch all that info in the manner discribed in the line by line.
So, what would be the purpose? Is its purpose to inject info into the subconscious mind for the reader? Then later it has more meaning?
Or do we, "Get it" , and don't really know it?

Ken

Readers don't consciously drag this stuff out. They find the meaning they need. Writers don't necessarily put the material in cold-bloodedly, either. It could (should?) be just what feels right.

Please notice that the act of building the character started in the first sentence of the first paragraph on the first page. There isn't a line that isn't devoted to defining the character.

yeah. what he said.

I’m a newbie posting wise here, though I’ve read this thread 1 and ½ times now.
I wouldn’t turn the page now, but there was a time when I would have. The sections sounded so much like J. Barth, Bellows and their contemporaries that I actually looked up the publication date and was shocked to see it was 2002. Then I checked on Barth and there was Sotweed in paperback dated 2002. So I checked the Bacchus hardback and found it came out in 2000. Perhaps that is simply this genre? Is it a genre?

Finally commenting. Yes, I’ve done the work, sent two books out this year one early in the year and one late for consideration. Then realized I didn’t much care for the genre. Since that seemed like a huge mistake I thought re-reading this thread would be a good step.
Stlight

btw, the index thread for Learn Writing is now up to date.

I will read about likeable characters who are bad people, or unlikeable characters who are good people, but if you're character is both unlikable and a terrible human being you better be either the next great literary genius or have a hell of a story to tell.

As for the passage: I was actually a little jarred when it ended. I would probably get halfway through the book on sheer momentum, at which point I would step back and reflect and see if I was actually interested in what happened to the characters. (This is actually what has happened to me when reading McIrney before. Usually I finish.)

Funny I'm getting less and less patient with books that seem to be wasting my time. I used to finish them "because they were there" and now I seem to be getting crotchety in my old age. (since I turned 30. Yes, I feel the sympathy, thank you.)

I really liked your analysis that it's the movement that makes a character worthwhile. I'd been thinking while I read the posts the "likeable" was a completely irrelevant attribute to the reader as long as the character was interesting. But whether a character is interesting is just the symptom of good writing, it's the conflict and development which are the things you have control over and will make the character interesting.

Which is what makes writing such a difficult task.

One one hand we have the question of Which Came First, The Character or the Plot? On the other hand we have The Prose, It Burns! (And yeah, that's deliberately ambiguous.)

Pretty Soon Now I'll look at the next McInerney excerpt. Then it'll be time for the Christmas Challenge.

Oh, yeah -- becoming impatient with novels as we grow older ... that's a function (I think) of having more experience with books. Ideas and techniques that once would have seemed fresh and new are now "Been There, Done That, Got the Tee-Shirt."

And comes the realization that time is fleeting; there are only so many more books that I'll ever be able to read. Does this need to be one of them?

James D. Macdonald said:

becoming impatient with novels as we grow older ... that's a function (I think) of having more experience with books.

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I certainly hope that's the reason behind my recent impatience with some novels. Unfortunately I still want to learn a lot more about writing. I say unfortunately because I believe there is nearly as much to learn from the novels that don't work as those that do. Despite my frustrations with certain books, I still slog my way through them so that I can decide why I, the reader, would rather be doing something (anything) else.

(aside: one of the reasons I won't be getting a Kindle is because, when I finish a 500 page mystery and it turns out I had the plot figured out back on page 100, I can't throw the damn novel against the wall without throwing $400 worth of equipment with it. The delete button just won't have the same satisfaction.)

(second aside: seeing as this is my first post to the Learn Writing... thread, a full three years since I first came across it, I'd like to say a big thanks to Uncle Jim for all the great advice that's contained here.)

First, thanks and kudos to Dawno for updating the index thread.

Ah, so it's my age that makes me impatient. I recently gave up on two different novels: one with a seemingly interesting plot but third-grade-level writing, and one with lovely prose but an odious first person narrator who just could not get around to telling the story. Both of these books got great reviews and one was by a best-selling author (guess which one that was). I couldn't finish either; I was too impatient with the former, and too bored with the latter.

Sure, when I publish, people may say the same about me. I just hope they are at least able to read all the way through before doing so.

James D. Macdonald said:

Oh, yeah -- becoming impatient with novels as we grow older ... And comes the realization that time is fleeting; there are only so many more books that I'll ever be able to read. Does this need to be one of them?

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I hadn't thought about that, but I have had a good 35 years to build up an "OMG how will I ever read all these" book list. I bet that does have something to do with it.

James D. Macdonald said:

Ideas and techniques that once would have seemed fresh and new are now "Been There, Done That, Got the Tee-Shirt."

Click to expand...

I love it! Do you think your sense of humor develops with time? It's hard for me to tell, but if I remember my school years at all accurately, I think I was always 60 seconds too slow on the ad lib. But at the same time I really hadn't thought of "funny" as being something you could learn.

Back to the post from ages ago...

Today we're going to look at this bit, sentence by sentence:

You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning. But here you are, and you cannot say that the terrain is entirely unfamiliar, although the details are fuzzy. You are at a nightclub talking to a girl with a shaved head. The club is either Heartbreak or the Lizard Lounge. All might come clear if you could just slip into the bathroom and do a little more Bolivian Marching Powder. Then again, it might not. A small voice inside you insists that this epidemic lack of clarity is a result of too much of that already. The night has already turned on that imperceptible pivot where two A.M. changes to six A.M. You know this moment has come and gone, but you are not yet willing to concede that you have crossed the line beyond which all is gratuitous damage and the palsy of unraveled nerve endings. Somewhere back there you could have cut your losses, but you rode past that moment on a comet trail of white powder and now you are trying to hang on to the rush. Your brain at this moment is composed of brigades of tiny Bolivian soldiers. They are tired and muddy from their long march through the night. There are holes in their boots and they are hungry. They need to be fed. They need Bolivian Marching Powder.

Click to expand...

That's the first page from Bright Lights, Big City by Jay McInerney. This is a slender book, barely over 200 pages. Around 50,000 words. That's short for a novel, but still book length.

(Caveat: Studying openings teaches you openings. Studying endgames teaches you chess. In the same way, to learn novel-writing, study last chapters. It's just that last chapters are Lots Harder to do Line-by-Lines on. I'm taking the easy way out.)

So, what did McInerney do? 237 words, 14 sentences.

You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning.

Click to expand...

Second person. We have two characters already from the first word: "You" and the narrator/speaker. We have a place ("a place like this") and a time ("this time of the morning"). So: person, place, time, and, taken as a whole, a problem. The "you" character is male, and there are certain expectations of him (rank? class? background?) that contrast with his location. At twenty-one words this is also one of the longest sentences on this page. It's doing a lot of heavy lifting.

But here you are, and you cannot say that the terrain is entirely unfamiliar, although the details are fuzzy.

Click to expand...

Maybe you are the sort of person who's to be found in a place like this. Character building.

You are at a nightclub talking to a girl with a shaved head.

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Two of those fuzzy details in a short, punchy sentence.

The place is defined, and another character is introduced. (Not only is this a nightclub, but it's the sort of nightclub where you'd find a girl with a shaved head.) That head is what we call the "telling detail."

Perhaps the narrator is the character himself, split up into a self and a conscious, like Pinocchio and Jiminy Cricket? Perhaps the narrator is a friend trying to do an intervention?

The club is either Heartbreak or the Lizard Lounge.

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Character's mental state: Isn't sure where he is. Place defined further. We're learning that the first sentence was wrong: the protagonist is exactly the kind of guy who would be at a place like this. Which means that he's as freaky as a girl with a shaved head, only it might not show on the outside.

All might come clear if you could just slip into the bathroom and do a little more Bolivian Marching Powder.

Click to expand...

A longer sentence, and the introduction of cocaine. The problem becomes clearer for the reader, though not necessarily for the protagonist. The place is even further described; the kind of nightclub where you find bald girls and people doing coke in the bathrooms.

Then again, it might not.

Click to expand...

Five words. A more staccato rhythm. The protagonist's mental status further defined. Confusion. This is character building.

A small voice inside you insists that this epidemic lack of clarity is a result of too much of that already.

Click to expand...

Perhaps the narrator speaking of himself in third person? The readers are told that the protagonist is seriously drugged-out. The protagonist seems to be having a lucid interval, as he suddenly looks around and asks "What the hell am I doing here?" I presume that the rest of the book will tell us that.

The night has already turned on that imperceptible pivot where two A.M. changes to six A.M.

Click to expand...

"At this time of the morning," a question left hanging from the first sentence, is defined. It's already getting light outside. There are hours of missing time between two and six. The protagonist is in serious trouble. Still no plot on the horizon, but character and place are making up for that. (Oh, and that "imperceptible pivot" is a lovely image, isn't it? Gorgeous prose all through here.)

You know this moment has come and gone, but you are not yet willing to concede that you have crossed the line beyond which all is gratuitous damage and the palsy of unraveled nerve endings.

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Thirty-five words. The longest sentence of this paragraph, about midway down the page. We learn that the protagonist is damaged and shaky and lying to himself.

Somewhere back there you could have cut your losses, but you rode past that moment on a comet trail of white powder and now you are trying to hang on to the rush.

Click to expand...

Thirty-three words. We're at the slowest point in this pair of compound complex sentences. The reader will slow down too. We're in metaphor-land here, and this too will slow the reader.

Your brain at this moment is composed of brigades of tiny Bolivian soldiers.

Click to expand...

Thirteen words. The sentences get faster and shorter from this point on. Extending the Bolivian Marching Powder metaphor. And the image of fragmentation is introduced. The army, while it usually acts as one, is composed of individuals fully capable of independent action regardless of what the commanding general orders.

They are tired and muddy from their long march through the night.

Click to expand...

Twelve words. A shorter sentence still, extending the metaphor, tying it into the protagonist's activities last night.

There are holes in their boots and they are hungry.

Click to expand...

Ten words. Extending the metaphor.

They need to be fed.

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Five words. Simple sentence. Fast rhythm.

They need Bolivian Marching Powder.

Click to expand...

Five more words. Extending the metaphor. Character and situation developed further.

We've seen some really excellent character development done by a trained stunt writer on a closed course. The protagonist is talking to a girl, but all he's thinking about is getting more coke to keep going, keep damaging himself, because that's what his fragmented brain, the ragged army barely under his control, needs to keep going. Even though he knows that "keeping going" isn't what they need. They need sleep, warmth, dry clothing, new boots, food.

Now the question: would you turn the page?

James D. Macdonald said:

Now the question: would you turn the page?

Click to expand...

Hell yes. Even though it's not something I'd normally pick up in a bookstore.

*takes notes*

I'm not into bleak novels, or seamy underside stories, but I would probably turn the page anyway. You're right, the prose is gorgeous and would make me more favourably inclined.

What I particularly like is the way the sentence rhythms imitate the mental processes of the protagonist.

James D. Macdonald said:

What I particularly like is the way the sentence rhythms imitate the mental processes of the protagonist.

Click to expand...

Which makes it interesting because it's in second person.

Would you recommend ever choosing 2nd person for a narrator? I mean for a whole story? This demonstrates some interesting things, but I don't feel that's one of the elements you'd actually want to copy is it?

I was wondering wouldn't it be better done in first person? To me, there's just something off about second person (and present tense at that -- although the tense isn't what I have a problem with). Consider the same text done in 1st person:

I am not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning. But here I am, and I cannot say that the terrain is entirely unfamiliar, although the details are fuzzy. I am at a nightclub talking to a girl with a shaved head. The club is either Heartbreak or the Lizard Lounge. All might come clear if I could just slip into the bathroom and do a little more Bolivian Marching Powder. Then again, it might not. A small voice inside me insists that this epidemic lack of clarity is a result of too much of that already. The night has already turned on that imperceptible pivot where two A.M. changes to six A.M. I know this moment has come and gone, but I am not yet willing to concede that I have crossed the line beyond which all is gratuitous damage and the palsy of unraveled nerve endings. Somewhere back there I could have cut my losses, but I rode past that moment on a comet trail of white powder and now I am trying to hang on to the rush. My brain at this moment is composed of brigades of tiny Bolivian soldiers. They are tired and muddy from their long march through the night. There are holes in their boots and they are hungry. They need to be fed. They need Bolivian Marching Powder.

Click to expand...

The only reason I could think of that second person works better is that the narrator has a different vocabulary, personality and coherence/intelligence than the protagonist, which is a surrogate for the readers.

Nonetheless, I think it's well-written and I would definitely turn the page. That tells me that if written well, anything is possible.

I play roleplaying games, and to me, the 2nd person narration sounds exactly like a game master. I kept slipping into game mode, either imagining the passage to be written in a RPG sourcebook or expecting it to end, "What do you do next?"

Of course, part of me was reminded of the old Choose Your Own Adventure titles...at the end, I wouldn't have been surprised to see, "Turn to page 32".

So, basically, I was thoroughly distracted the whole time. I don't think I would have read further, despite the fascinating use of language, because the 2nd person narration kept sending my mind elsewhere.

Ditto what Maestro just said. No matter how many times I look at this book (and there have been several), I can't get more than a couple of pages into it without being overwhelmed by the sense that the 2nd-person narration is pure gimmickry, an affectation.

Well, I guess it worked, considering the sales success. But I'm not about to try it.

As a digression, I've just begun reading another novel in a narrative style I don't usually like much: first-person present-tense. But it's a wonder, and worth a read for anybody:

The Moviegoer, by Walker Percy.

caw

blacbird said:

Ditto what Maestro just said. No matter how many times I look at this book (and there have been several), I can't get more than a couple of pages into it without being overwhelmed by the sense that the 2nd-person narration is pure gimmickry, an affectation.

As a digression, I've just begun reading another novel in a narrative style I don't usually like much: first-person present-tense.

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I agree. 2nd person is too unusual. You only hear it in relatively specific contexts direct conversations that you're having, etc., that books don't mimic well. It sounds affected. Strange to hear a narrative written like this.

Interesting. 1st person present tense is one of the biggies. I won't pretend that I've ever written anything worthwhile in it, I'm a 3rd person present tense kinda guy. But I'm surprised to hear that someone actively dislikes it. Any particular reason? And do you have any idea why this story doesn't set off your spider sense on this one?