Craft Wednesday #10 Glittering Highlights

This blog needed a place for talking about writing. "Craft Wednesday" will be me talking about all things writing: how to write, why to write, and my own craft journey. I hope to learn and to share experiences with you.   

Those Glittering Highlights That Are Not Mine

The Question Poised

In reading books or watching movies the characters lead lives we are envious of, either for their happiness or their adventure, however dark. We flatter ourselves in thinking we would take the same amazing actions the protagonists would take, given their resources and position. Their lives, unlike ours, seem so clear cut, it's dazzling - if our lives are the rough diamonds in the deep, theirs are the mulit-faceted gemstones on lady's fingers.

I have often wondered why my life is not like their fictitious lives, besides not being able to flip to the end to see how many pages remain. If my life is in any way prophetic, like fictitious people's lives are, it reveals the future in a different way. (I plan on examining prophecy in writing soon on this blog.) 

The Short of It

One bibliophilic Monday revealed an answer: sharp distinctions must be made in every story, regardless of the medium. When writing fiction it is necessary to become to follow clues in the plot that has been written out so far at the same moment that the next word is poised in the position of the hand and the pen or key. The act of writing requires a focus on the thoughts and actions of the specific characters in a specific location; otherwise the reflective -- or mimetic -- mirror held up to real-life sources of inspiration would prove too unwield for even a writer like Tolstoy to capture on the page.

Thus art, any art, is inherently selective about what it says or shows. What the audience gets is a highlight reel of all the important information and the clearest, most beautiful images related to the plot.

One Personal Example

I have been writing the part of a novel where every hour is gratingly clear for my heroine, and for about two or three chapters I follow her from conversation to conversation in the aftermath of the traumatic event. I ran across the problem of timing when she can eat or take breaks from the narrative for any normal human function. 

Food was a limited resource in her location, so that was not the issue - she could just suffer through hunger for a couple paragraphs.

But I did not want to follow her into the bathroom. My senses loathed the idea, and it was not relevant to any of the events of the story.

I left it out. It was boring, possibly disgusting, and not important. Instead, there are breaks in the chronological plot alloting time for the characters to use any facilities they wish. 

Think about it: when asking how someone's day went, they usually don't reply with "I ate, went to the restroom, brushed my teeth..."  There are times when such information is relevant, such as describing to some outside party a normal routine.

Conclusion

Stories are often outside of the normal. They are centered around changes set into motion by events. The key for the writer is not only knowing what to select, but in allowing room in the narrative structure for "normal" to happen between the lines.