Character is the story: that’s why we start with character. There are many ways to get to the heart of the character. My earlier entry offers one of many ways to do so. Stories—novels, plays, poems, even nonfiction—are about connecting to the human heart. Connection is the key, because stories about flesh and blood people who fail to connect to the emotional layer of being human seem to fade quickly in the reader’s interest. Roger Rosenblatt exhorts his writing students to touch the reader in Unless It Moves the Human Heart.
Even science fiction, I discovered, is not exempt. Plot devices and mechanized people in science-forged settings must ultimately move the human heart. A story comes to mind, a piece written by a sci-fi enthusiast in one of my classes. He created a fascinating world of androids cloaked in a setting of engineering marvels on a spaceship equipped with organic-like services and functions to aid the androids. That world lives on in my imagination—metal and glass orbs drifting through endless space, but I can’t recall anything of the story.
People moved through the setting operating cleverly designed gadgets, ate strange and wonderful vittles, yet they exchanged words without communicating and shared space without interacting. In doll-like motions, they acted without kindness or rancor, without joy or hurt or any sense of satisfaction. The author took no trouble to direct me, the reader, in establishing an emotional center where the incidents and events could be interpreted into greater human values. The author saw no need to do this.
Yet, without this emotional centering, the reader does not know who to root for or who to work against. In establishing protagonist versus the antagonist (Sept. 3 blog) you are beginning a definition of that center. But there’s more. One of the tasks that has diverted my attention from this writing for the last few weeks is the need to revise a novel for submission, especially the opening paragraph. I found that in reading the piece I was about to submit, I had failed to establish the strength of the central character, the protagonist. I had failed to impress the reader with his strengths and his weaknesses especially as it pertained to hooking the reader into the story. In fact, I was back to my old tricks of dissipating tension and reader interest by making my character limpid.
What I need in a strong first chapter:
- A character who is likeable enough to spend some time with but flawed enough to need a change in direction. That’s what the story is, how the hero is finally capable of changing direction to win his goal.
- A clearly demarcated goal that is a worthy challenge to the hero AND a peek at the consequence if he doesn’t cut it. In nonfiction writing I would be able to write “this is my goal….” However, in fiction we must show a character in terms of his goal and its consequence.
- The hero needs some tangible conflict that he works against, and you must show it to the reader. This was a pertinent point where I dissipated a lot of tension on the first page. My hero hates where he lives; it is a place of exile to him and it grates on him every day. The setting is conflict, that’s its dramatic function in this story.
- The first chapter needs to grab the reader and move quickly. In a 380 page novel, my first turn does not appear until page 132. This is far too late. Pacing is critical to hooking the reader and to keeping his interest from page to page. I need to bring energy back to chapter one by introducing a hint of the major conflicts in the story.
- Anticipation is the author’s connection to the reader, making the experience more pleasurable. The first chapter needn’t articulate the full nature of conflicts, but should give a hint as to what’s going to come back to bite the hero. In my story there are two incidents that I can move up to the first scene in order to sharpen the focus on them.
Three months ago I did not believe that it would be possible to stack all this stuff into the first ten pages of the novel. Over the course of my summer, I have read five novels, though, that have enlightened me (see list in box below).Without exception, including a middle grade novel and a young adult novel, these works offered a prime-stuffed first chapter. Two mysteries, a love story, a hostage situation and a retrospective of coming of age, all managed to weave these elements into the first chapter.
- A sympathetic character with a pronounced flaw that will become a challenge to her as the story unfolds (a weakness), matched by an attitude that makes the character function adequately in her world.
- From the first pages of every story, the hero is striving for something and the reader discovers what may happen if she fails to obtain it. The intangible goal is locked into a physical presence, such as the environment in my story which stands for what the character has been denied in life.
- Conflicts from the first page. The conflict on page one may not seem related to the overall conflict that drives the novel. However at the end of each story I read, the opening conflict was indeed a piece of the greater story problem. And in a closer look, each conflict developed in the book had a tasting offered to the reader in the first chapter. Those tastings are hooks. They are what keep a reader reading.
A year ago I did not understand the workings of these notions in my novels, although I had studied fiction and fiction writing for the past twenty years. There is so much more to learn than I have dreamed of.
FYI: My SOURCES for reading fiction this fall were:
Ann Patchett, The Magician’s Assistant
Julian Barnes, The Sense of An Ending
Elizabeth George, The Edge of Nowhere
Kathleen Ernst, Secrets in the Hills