Good lesson on how to write

SCENE STRUCTURE

By: Patrick Dent

PLACE

Setting is one of the most neglected aspects of fiction; after all, it is merely where the story takes place, right? Right. But every aspect of writing should be carefully considered by the serious writer, in order to take full advantage of it. And setting is a tool a writer can use to great effect.

Because we are trying to convince a reader that our story really happened -- at least for as long as it takes them to read the thing -- having a convincing place for the story to happen in is vital. And consider how differently an deathbed scene would read if it happened in a stark, sterile hospital room compared to a lushly appointed bedroom full of warm candlelight with the smell of baking bread wafting in through the door. The words and actions and characters present could be exactly the same, but the scene becomes very different when it happens in different settings.

TIME

Time as an aspect of setting is something we sometimes overlook. But time is as important as place; New York of 2003 is a very different place from New York of 1723 or 3015. Different time periods have different looks and atmospheres, even if most of the buildings are the same. And even a few years can make a difference -- how has the New York of today changed from the New York of 2000? Not only has the landscape changed, but so has the feeling of being in that city.

Of course, what year it happens to be is not the only temporal aspect of setting to consider. How might the time of year change both the physical setting (snow, ice, less color in the landscape) and the atmosphere (more people are depressed in the winter)? And what about the time of day? Even if it is not necessary to specify these things in the text of your story, you as the writer ought to know. These questions will affect the details you include in your descriptions, the behavior or mood of your characters and various other things. Always consider what the time you've chosen means; what things result from it being that time and not some other time.

Setting is More Than a Place to Happen

The most obvious function of setting is to give your story a place to happen. All settings do that. But we already have some hints about other possible things a setting can do. Settings are doing more than providing a location for events. They are adding atmosphere and mood, they are affecting the characters and maybe even influencing events. Setting can be subtle, but also quite powerful.

The Implications of Invented Settings

If you are writing fantasy or science fiction, you are probably going to be using invented settings, or imaginary worlds, at some point. Because you've made everything up, you have a special task to make sure all aspects of your setting make sense and to consider all the implications of your imaginary world. For example, if you've chosen to give your world a red sun, what might this mean to the people living on the world? For science fiction, you have to consider what a red sun is in astronomical terms and how it would affect the planets and creatures orbiting it. For fantasy you can be a little more playful, but you still need to think things through. How might a red sun affect the way people see color, for example? What magical or fantastical aspects might a red sun have? Would the color red come to have some special significance, perhaps?

In his book Writing Science Fiction and Fantasy, Crawford Kilian suggests that writers should think about the metaphorical implications that their choice of setting will have. He divides settings into two broad categories: demonic and paradise. The idea is that a story about a world that is a metaphorical paradise being threatened by a world that is a metaphorical hell has a very different meaning from a story about a demonic, hellish world that is being turned into a paradise. Even if the basic action and plotlines of these two scenarios were essentially the same, the stories would have very different meanings, and what meaning a reader takes from them would largely come from what kind of settings are used. This is only one example of the metaphorical possibilities of created worlds. Can you think of others? If you are going to use invented settings, you should be able to think of many other ways to manipulate the "meaning" of a story by changing the setting in this way.

Possible Functions of Settings

Jack Hodgins lists seven roles for settings in his book A Passion for Narrative. Each makes more use of setting than the last, and the final role is truly the most memorable when it is used by a capable writer.

Generic: The setting is without unique features, implying that the story could happen anywhere. The problem with this is that all real places have their own cultural and physical characteristics and these characteristics influence characters. A generic setting will not seem real and may actually detract from the story.

Backdrop: The setting merely provides us with a way of knowing where we are and, though it may have unique characteristics, it does not affect the characters or action. It is a place, but it doesn't do anything.

Local Color: The story is flavored by attention to the unique details of the setting, which may give the impression that the story could not have happened anywhere else. The writer may be tempted to make the setting entertaining without really giving it any significance.

Atmosphere/Mood: Setting can be used to set the mood or atmosphere for the whole story or novel. In addition, the settings of individual scenes may reflect the state of mind of the characters.

Action and Character: Characters are more real if they have a historical and geographical context; the place where a person grew up will affect their attitudes and behavior for their whole lives. For example, someone raised in a big city will think and act differently from someone raised in a tiny rural village.

Place as Character: One example of this is in the old "man versus nature" plot, where the main struggles the protagonist faces are with the environment. In this situation, the setting itself is the antagonist. In stories of this sort, changing elements of the setting would change the entire story. Can you imagine a story about a woman's struggle to climb a mountain unaided being set on the prairies? That story wouldn't work without a mountain, and so the mountain becomes a central character. The story's plot, then, is largely determined by its setting.

Metaphor/Symbol: The setting becomes symbolic of the theme of the story.

You don't want to spend too much time at first on figuring out exactly how your setting will function in your work. As long as you are aware of the possibilities offered by setting, you'll probably find that you can ignore the technical details while writing a draft or your story or novel. Things like atmosphere and metaphor often emerge spontaneously in the writing, which means you only have to decide what works and what doesn't when you edit. Don't force a role on a setting, but use your editing to make it stronger.

PROSE

"Show, don't tell." That's what they always say. It makes you think that if you always show everything, your writing is sure to be perfect. On one hand, "Show, don't tell" is good advice. If you tell somebody something they may or may not believe you, but if you show it to them they pretty much have to believe. That's why showing a character doing something is much more effective than telling the reader that the character did something. But . . .

"There's always a 'but'." That's another phrase that comes up a lot. Showing is good, but not always. If you showed every smallest event that needs to happen for a story to work, you'd have a awfully long story, and your reader would probably get tired of it. There are times when you need to tell the reader something instead of showing them. That's why there are different types of prose you can use in your fiction. If you must show something, you use scenes and half scenes, both of which make use of dialogue. But for those times you need to explain something or quickly summarize events for the reader you have exposition and narrative.

EXPOSITION

Exposition is any explanatory prose -- passages that explain, define, describe or comment on things. This kind of writing is used to convey necessary information that can't be worked into a scene. A good writer can create passages of exposition that are enjoyable to read, but too much exposition rapidly becomes boring for the reader. In Science Fiction, long expository passages that explain complex things all in one big lump are called "infodump" and are best avoided. Try to keep exposition short and concise and intersperse it with other types of prose to keep the work interesting.

NARRATIVE

The Oxford English Dictionary defines narrative as an "account of connected events in order of happening." In writing circles, it is often called summary narrative because the function of narrative is to summarize events that can't or shouldn't be dramatized as scenes. Sometimes the events simply aren't important enough to be written as scenes, but still contain necessary information; at other times we need to move from one scene to another without getting bogged down in the details of how. These are times when narrative is useful. It is important not to get carried away, however, as narrative is a quicker and much more shallow way to tell a story than scenes, and your readers may feels things are happening to quickly or without enough detail.

DIALOGUE

Dialogue is "a conversation in written form" (Oxford English Dictionary). It is when characters speak to each other and their words are placed in quotation marks so the reader knows which words each character said. Dialogue can have many functions, and a good writer will try to give each piece of dialogue more than one function at a time, if possible. Some of the ways dialogue can be used are:

1. To convey exposition -- in other words, to function the same way as expository prose, but with a character doing the explaining

2. To show character

3. To convey sense of place and time -- by including specific phrases or words used in a particular time or place

4. To develop conflict -- dialogue is a great way to have characters argue, express feelings and opinions and much more

It is vital to remember that, although dialogue represents speech, it is not real speech. Don't try to replicate the way people actually talk in your dialogue. To understand why, write down a conversation word for word and then read it over. Real speech is boring. It's full of "um"s and "ah"s and all kinds of false starts, repetitions and really silly phrases (look out for those clichés!). Writing is art, and so we have to construct dialogue to give the illusion of speech while avoiding all the annoying aspects of actual conversation. Make your dialogue concise instead of rambling; avoid those false starts, repetition and unnecessary words and pauses; use standard spellings (for example, use "yeah" rather than "ya" "yeh" or "yah"); be very careful not to exaggerate dialect or non-standard speech (just the flavor of the way a person speaks is good; don't try to recreate their accent in phonetic spelling); and avoid too few, not enough or too strange dialogue tags (the "she said" part of dialogue). One way to keep dialogue interesting is to make action part of dialogue as well as speech: intersperse sentences describing what a character is doing as they speak.

There is a standard format for setting up dialogue, and sticking to it can help make your writing clear. You really don't want your reader to get confused or frustrated about who is saying what. Dialogue is also one of the key elements of the dramatized scene, covered in the next part of this Guide.

DRAMATIZE!

The basic building block of fiction is the scene, often called the dramatized scene, as it dramatizes important events. Along with narrative and exposition, the scene and half-scene are the elements of which all fiction is composed. This part of the Beginner's Guide will explain what a scene is, what a half-scene is and what they do in fiction.

What is a Scene, Anyway?

Most fiction is composed largely of scenes, so knowing what a scene is and how it works is vital for the fiction writer. In a handout for a course on novel writing he used to teach at the University of Victoria, Jack Hodgins defines a scene as "a unit of continuous prose narrative, taking place in one location, in which we see and hear characters close-up, in order to move the story ahead by showing what is accomplished when one or more characters (or one character and a significant object) come together in a way that someone (perhaps everyone) pursues a goal and either succeeds, fails, or partially succeeds or fails, or lays the groundwork for succeeding (or failing) later." Phew.

Sounds complicated. But here are the essential elements:

1. A unit of continuous prose narrative: This simply means that a scene is a whole and not broken into separate chunks.

2. Taking place in one location: The scene doesn't jump from one location to another (which isn't to say that a scene can't happen while characters are on the move).

3. We see and hear characters close-up: A scene is composed of action and dialogue that we "watch" as if it were happening in front of us.

4. Someone pursues a goal: This is where the drama comes in; you cannot have a scene if no one is trying to accomplish anything.

5. And either succeeds, fails . . .: Every scene has an outcome, whatever that outcome might be.

The scene is the "show" part of writing in the old saying "Show, don't tell." It shows events happening, usually with accompanying dialogue, and gives a careful representation of words, thoughts, gestures and so on. The reader doesn't need to be able to see every single detail, but they must get a clear picture of what is going on. It is a good idea for you as the writer to know beforehand what each character brings into a scene -- what they want, what their immediate goals are, what they're willing to do to get what they want, what their attitudes are to other characters and so on.

Elements of the Scene

Every scene will contain some combination of the following items. You needn't use every one of these in every scene, although most scenes will have the majority of them. Use whatever you need to make the scene effective. How many of these elements can you identify in the example above?

1. Dialogue (this may have subtext or hidden meaning as well as the obvious meaning)

2. Dialogue tags (he said/she said)

3. Actions and gestures

4. Characters' thoughts

5. Exposition

6. Description of setting

7. Comments or observations by the author or narrator

8. Transitions from the previous scene or narrative passage and/or into the next one

Functions of the Scene

Contributes to plot: A scene and its outcome move the plot along by having characters make decisions, succeed or fail, make plans, reveal information and more. Every scene must move your characters closer to the resolution of whatever problem they face.

Reveals character: Crawford Kilian says the key to writing a good scene is knowing what you want to show your readers about the character(s). Contributes to theme: Symbolism, metaphors, recurring or striking images, references, allusions and similar things can tie the scene into the larger concerns of the novel.

Relates causally or thematically with events that happened before and events that will happen after: Every scene arises from an earlier scene and gives rise to later scenes, or, as David Gerrold says, "Every scene must make the next scene inevitable."

HALF-SCENE???

A half-scene is kind of like a mini scene in the middle of a summary narrative or passage of exposition. It is a sort of pause to "zoom in" on the action and give a taste of a dialogue exchange or other interaction between characters.

When to Dramatize

It's all very fine to know what a scene is and how it differs from narrative or exposition, but how do you know when to dramatize an event as a scene and when to speed through with narrative? Generally, the most important events, those that are key to plot movement or character development, are the ones you'll want to linger over by writing them as scenes. Less important things, but those it is still necessary for the reader to know about, can be relegated to narrative. Of course, you won't always know which events are going to be the really important ones until you've written the first draft of your story. You'll almost certainly have to expand a few narrative sequences into dramatized scenes or collapse some scenes into summary narrative in later drafts. But don't worry, it's re-writing that turns good writing into art.

Form versus Structure

Form can refer to two slightly different things in writing. When you are talking about the form of a piece of writing, you may say it is a poem, a work of prose, a play or something else. Form can also be used in a more specific sense to talk about the way a fictional work is written: a piece of fiction may be in the form of a letter ("Mary" by Edna O'Brien) or a journal (parts of Bram Stoker's Dracula, it may be a series of emails between characters (Powerbook by Jeanette Winterson), or it may even be in verse (Eugene Onegin by Alexander Puskin).

Structure, on the other hand, has more to do with the frame of the fiction. In other words, the structure may involve a single incident or many incidents, there may be a couple of setbacks for the characters or there may be many of them, the climax may be reached early on or later in the piece, there may be a lengthy dénouement after the conflict has been resolved or there may be no dénouement at all, and so on. The work could be a single long third-person narrative, or a series of very short first-person passages from the point of view of different characters, or many other possibilities. These things refer to structure.

Most fiction is categorized as short stories or novels, with some mid-length work classed as novellas, but what do these words mean? Primarily, these categories refer to length, but they can also indicate differences in structure. In the following discussion I will describe short stories, novellas and novels in terms of both length and structure. Keep in mind that these are generalizations used to conveniently class fiction; all of these categories can overlap in number of words and in structure.

The Short Story

Edgar Allan Poe said a short story should be short enough to read in one sitting. The Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) has defined a short story as prose fiction up to 7,499 words for the purposes of their Nebula Award criteria. Other sources say it is usually no more than 15,000 words. Generally, a short story is short, or at least shorter than a novel.

Once upon a time, the lead-in to a story was much longer, introducing the reader to the main character, setting the scene and so on. These days, though, writers like to start a story as close as possible to whatever happens that changes the status quo -- one professor of mine called this the "precipitating incident," the thing that makes the story happen. Whatever the precipitating incident is, it changes the normal flow of events for the main character and begins the rising action, the main body of the story that leads up to the climax. The climax itself is where the protagonist must face his or her problems, whether those problems are natural events, an antagonist or something within the character him/herself. After the climax is the falling action or the resolution, in which things return to normal, the dénouement.

Most short stories have a simple structure like this. They focus on the life of a single character, or perhaps a couple of characters. They are centered on a single incident, usually a very significant one. A short story could have more characters or more events or other complications, but they tend not to simply because of their length. If you have too much that needs to happen, by the time you finish writing you'll have something longer than a short story.

Short Short Stories and Flash Fiction

Very very short stories are often known as short shorts or flash fiction. These stories are usually under 1000 words, more often less than 500. Because of their extremely short length, short short stories make good use of allusions -- references to things outside the work itself -- to increase their impact. Allusions bring other connections and connotations to mind for the reader, and thus reduce the number of words a writer has to use in the story itself.

The Novel

A novel is a long piece of fiction. The actual length can vary greatly, but the SFWA/Nebula Award criteria specifies a length of 40,000 words and up. Novels tend to be much more complex in structure than short stories or novellas.
The actual number of reversals and almost-climaxes, setbacks and events can vary greatly. A novel may be only slightly more complicated than a short story (in fact, it is possible for a novel to have a structure identical to the short story diagram above, though it is unusual) or it may be far more complicated than this diagram. There may be only a few characters or there may be many; there are usually more characters than in a short story, as there is more room in a novel to explore them, but there don't have to be. The falling action/dénouement tends to be a little longer than in a short story as well; with all those complications it can take longer for the writer to get the characters back to normal and show the results of the climax.

How Do You Know?

How do you know which of these structures is appropriate to the story you want to tell? One way is to simply write the thing and see what it turns out as. On the other hand, it can be helpful to have some idea of the shape a story will take before you start writing. So consider what sort of story you are telling. Is it a simple tale of a significant event that happens to one character to somehow change that character's life? Perhaps it would make a good short story, especially if you feel it won't take many pages to tell. Is the story very complicated, with many events and lots of characters and all kinds of obstacles to overcome? Perhaps it would be best as a novel, then. Also think about the period of time covered in the story. There's no saying that something that happens in one night must be a short story and something that happens over years must be a novel, but if you want to cover many years in some detail, you might not be able to fit the story into a shorter structure. The best thing to do is simply experiment until you get used to the way your stories tend to work out (and don't stop experimenting even then).

The Importance of the Single Effect in a Prose Tale - Edgar Allan Poe (1842)


We said a few hurried words about Mr. Hawthorne in our last number, with the design of speaking more fully in the present. We are still, however, pressed for room, and must necessarily discuss his volumes more briefly and more at random than their high merits deserve.

The book professes to be a collection of tales, yet is, in two respects, misnamed. These pieces are now in their third ret publication, and, of course, are thrice-told. Moreover, they are by no means all tales, either in the ordinary or in the legitimate understanding of the term. Many of them are pure essays, for example, "Sights from a Steeple," "Sunday; Home," "Little Annie's Ramble," "A Rill from the Town. Pump," "The Toll-Gatherer's Day," "The Haunted Mind," "The Sister Years," "Snow-Flakes," "Night Sketches," and "Foot-Prints on the Sea-Shore." We mention these matters chiefly on account of their discrepancy with that marked precision and finish by which the body of the work is distinguished.

Of the Essays just named, we must be content to speak brief. They are each and all beautiful, without being characterized by the polish and adaptation so visible in the tales proper. A painter would at once note their leading or predominant feature, and style it repose. There is no attempt effect. All is quiet, thoughtful, subdued. Yet this repose may exist simultaneously with high originality of thought; and Mr. Hawthorne has demonstrated the fact. At every turn we meet with novel combinations; yet these combinations never surpass the limits of the quiet. We are soothed as we real; and withal is a calm astonishment that ideas so apparently obvious have never occurred or been presented to us before. Herein our author differs materially from Lamb or Hunt or Hazlitt — who, with vivid originality of manner and expression, have less of the true novelty of thought than is general supposed, and whose originality, at best, has an uneasy are meretricious quaintness, replete with startling effects unfounded in nature, and inducing trains of reflection which lead to no satisfactory result. The Essays of Hawthorne have much of the character of Irving, with more of originality, and less of finish; while, compared with the Spectator, they have vast superiority at all points. The Spectator, Mr. Irving, and Mr. Hawthorne have in common that tranquil and subdued manner which we have chosen to denominate repose; but, the case of the two former, this repose is attained rather by the absence of novel combination, or of originality, than otherwise, and consists chiefly in the calm, quiet, unostentatious expression of commonplace thoughts, in an unambitious unadulterated Saxon. In them, by strong effort, we are made to conceive the absence of all. In the essays before us the absence of effort is too obvious to be mistaken, and a strong undercurrent of suggestion runs continuously beneath the upper stream of the tranquil thesis. In short, these effusions of Mr. Hawthorne are the product of a truly imaginative intellect, restrained, and in some measure repressed, by fastidiousness of taste, by constitutional melancholy and by indolence.

But it is of his tales that we desire principally to speak. The tale proper, in our opinion, affords unquestionably the fairest field for the exercise of the loftiest talent, which can be afforded by the wide domains of mere prose. Were we bidden to say how the highest genius could be most advantageously employed for the best display of its own powers, we should answer, without hesitation — in the composition of a rhymed poem, not to exceed in length what might be perused in an hour. Within this limit alone can the highest order of true poetry exist. We need only here say, upon this topic, that, in almost all classes of composition, the unity of effect or impression is a point of the greatest importance. It is clear, moreover, that this unity cannot be thoroughly preserved in productions whose perusal cannot be completed at one sitting. We may continue the reading of a prose composition, from the very nature of prose itself, much longer than we can persevere, to any good purpose, in the perusal of a poem. This latter, if truly fulfilling the demands of the poetic sentiment, induces an exaltation of the soul which cannot be long sustained. All high excitements are necessarily transient. Thus a long poem is a paradox. And, without unity of impression, the deepest effects cannot be brought about. Epics were the Spring of an imperfect sense of Art, and their reign is no more. A poem too brief may produce a vivid, but never an intense or enduring impression. Without a certain continuity of effort — without a certain duration or repetition of purpose — the soul is never deeply moved. There must be the water upon the rock. De Beranger has things — pungent and spirit-stirring — but, like all immassive bodies, they lack momentum, and thus fail to satisfy the Poetic Sentiment. They sparkle and excite, but, from want of continuity, fail deeply to impress. Extreme brevity will degenerate into epigrammatism; but the sin of extreme length is even more unpardonable. In medio tutissimus ibis.

Were we called upon however to designate that class of composition which, next to such a poem as we have suggested, should best fulfill the demands of high genius — should offer it the most advantageous field of exertion — we should unhesitatingly speak of the prose tale, as Mr. Hawthorne has here exemplified it. We allude to the short prose narrative, requiring from a half-hour to one or two hours in its perusal. The ordinary novel is objectionable, from its length, for reasons already stated in substance. As it cannot be read at one sitting, it deprives itself, of course, of the immense force derivable from totality. Worldly interests intervening during the pauses of perusal, modify, annul, or counteract, in a greater or less degree, the impressions of the book. But simple cessation in reading would, of itself, be sufficient to destroy the true unity. In the brief tale, however, the author is enabled to carry out the fulness of his intention, be it what it may. During the hour of perusal the soul of the reader is at the writer's control. There are no external or extrinsic influences — resulting from weariness or interruption.

A skilful literary artist has constructed a tale. If wise, he has not fashioned his thoughts to accommodate his incidents; but having conceived, with deliberate care, a certain unique or single effect to be wrought out, he then invents such incidents — he then combines such events as may best aid him in establishing this preconceived effect. If his very initial sentence tend not to the out bringing of this effect, then he has failed in his first step. In the whole composition there should be no word written, of which the tendency, direct or indirect, is not to the one pre-established design. And by such means, with such care and skill, a picture is at length painted which leaves in the mind of him who contemplates it with a kindred art, a sense of the fullest satisfaction. The idea of the tale has been presented unblemished, because undisturbed; and this is an end unattainable by the novel. Undue brevity is just as exceptionable here as in the poem; but undue length is yet more to be avoided.

We have said that the tale has a point of superiority even over the poem. In fact, while the rhythm of this latter is an essential aid in the development of the poem's highest idea — the idea of the Beautiful — the artificialities of this rhythm are an inseparable bar to the development of all points of thought or expression which have their basis in Truth. But Truth is often, and in very great degree, the aim of the tale. Some of the finest tales are tales of ratiocination. Thus the field of this species of composition, if not in so elevated a region on the mountain of Mind, is a table-land of far vaster extent than the domain of the mere poem. Its products are never so rich, but infinitely more numerous, and more appreciable by the mass of mankind. The writer of the prose tale, in short, may bring to his theme a vast variety of modes or inflections of thought and expression — (the ratiocinative, for example, the sarcastic or the humorous) which are not only antagonistical to the nature of the poem, but absolutely forbidden by one of its most peculiar and indispensable adjuncts; we allude of course, to rhythm. It may be added, here, par parenthese, that the author who aims at the purely beautiful in a prose tale is laboring at great disadvantage. For Beauty can be better treated in the poem. Not so with terror, or passion, or horror, or a multitude of such other points. And here it will be seen how full of prejudice are the usual animadversions against those tales of effect many fine examples of which were found in the earlier numbers of Blackwood. The impressions produced were wrought in a legitimate sphere of action, and constituted a legitimate although sometimes an exaggerated interest. They were relished by every man of genius: although there were found many men of genius who condemned them without just ground. The true critic will but demand that the design intended be accomplished, to the fullest extent, by the means most advantageously applicable.

We have very few American tales of real merit — we may say, indeed, none, with the exception of "The Tales of a Traveller" of Washington Irving, and these "Twice-Told Tales" of Mr. Hawthorne. Some of the pieces of Mr. John Neal abound in vigor and originality; but in general, his compositions of this class are excessively diffuse, extravagant, and indicative of an imperfect sentiment of Art. Articles at random are, now and then, met with in our periodicals which might be advantageously compared with the best effusions of the British Magazines; but, upon the whole, we are far behind our progenitors in this department of literature.

Of Mr. Hawthorne's Tales we would say, emphatically, that they belong to the highest region of Art — an Art subservient to genius of a very lofty order. We had supposed, with good reason for so supposing, that he had been thrust into his present position by one of the impudent cliques which beset our literature, and whose pretensions it is our full purpose to expose at the earliest opportunity; but we have been most agreeably mistaken. We Know of few compositions which the critic can more honestly commend then these Twice-Told Tales." As Americans, we feel proud of the book.

Mr. Hawthorne's distinctive trait is Invention, creation, imagination, originality — a trait which, in the literature of fiction, is positively worth all the rest. But the nature of originality, so far as regards its manifestation in letters, is but imperfectly understood. The inventive or original mind as frequently displays itself in novelty of tone as in novelty of matter. Mr. Hawthorne is original at all points.

It would be a matter of some difficulty to designate the best of these tales; we repeat that, without exception, they are beautiful. "Wakefield" is remarkable for the skill with which an old idea — a well-known incident — is worked up or discussed. A man of whims conceives the purpose of quitting his wife and residing incognito, for twenty years, in her immediate neighborhood. Something of this kind actually happened in London. The force of Mr. Hawthorne's tale lies m the analysis of the motives which must or might have impelled the husband to such folly, in the first instance, with the possible causes of his perseverance. Upon this thesis a sketch of singular power has been constructed.

"The Wedding Knell" is full of the boldest imagintion — an imagination fully controlled by taste. The most captious critic could find no flaw in this production.

"The Minister's Black Veil" is a masterly composition of in which the sole defect is that to the rabble its exquisite skill will be caviare. The obvious meaning of this article will be found to smother its insinuated one. The moral put into the mouth of the dying minister will be supposed to convey the true import of the narrative; and that a crime of dark dye, (having reference to the "young lady") has been committed, is a point which only minds congenial with that of the author will perceive.

"Mr. Higginbotham's Catastrophe" is vividly original and managed most dexterously.

"Dr. Heidegger's Experiment" is exceedingly well imagined, and executed with surpassing ability. The artist breathes in every line of it.

"The White Old Maid" is objectionable, even more than the "Minister's Black Veil," on the score of its mysticism Even with the thoughtful and analytic, there will be much trouble in penetrating its entire import

"The Hollow of the Three Hills" we would quote in full, had we space; — not as evincing higher talent than any of the other pieces, but as affording an excellent example of the author s peculiar ability. The subject is common-place. A witch subjects the Distant and the Past to the view of a mourner. It has been the fashion to describe, in such cases, a mirror in which the images of the absent appear; or a cloud of smoke is made to arise, and thence the figures are gradually unfolded. Mr. Hawthorne has wonderfully heightened his effect by mahag the ear, in place of the eye, the medium by which the fantasy Is conveyed. The head of the mourner is enveloped m the cloak of the witch, and within its magic folds there arise sounds which have an all-sufficient intelligence. Throughout this article also, the artist is conspicuous — not more in positive than in negative merits. Not only is all done that should be done, but (what perhaps is an end with more difficulty attained) there is nothing done which should not be. Every word tells, and there is not a word which does not tell.

In "Howe's Masquerade" we observe something which resembles a plagiarism — but which may he a very flattering coincidence of thought. We quote the passage in question.

"With a dark flush of wrath upon his brow they saw the general draw his sword and advance to meet the figure in the cloak before the latter had stepped one pace upon the floor.

" 'Villain, unmuff le yourself ' cried he, 'you pass no farther!'

"The figure, without blenching a hair's breadth from the sword which was pointed at his breast, made a solemn pause, and lowered the cape of the cloak from his face, yet not sufficiently for the spectators to catch a glimpse of it. But Sir William Howe had evidently seen enough. The sternness of his countenance gave place to a look of wild amazement, if not horror, while he recoiled several steps from the figure, and let fall his sword upon the floor." — See vol. 2, page 20.

The idea here is, that the figure in the cloak is the phantom or reduplication of Sir William Howe; but in an article called "William Wilson," one of the "Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque," we have not only the same idea, but the same idea similarly presented in several respects. We quote two paragraphs, which our readers may compare with what has been already given. We have italicized, above, the immediate particulars of resemblance.

"The brief moment in which I averted my eyes had been sufficient to produce, apparently, a material change in the arrangement at the upper or farther end of the room. A large mirror, it appeared to me, now stood where none had been perceptible before: and as I stepped up to it in extremity of terror, mine own image, but with features all pale and dabbled in blood, advanced with a feeble and tottering gait to meet me.

"Thus it appeared I say, but was not. It was Wilson, who then stood before me in the agonies of dissolution. Not a line in all the marked and singular lineaments of that face which was not even identically mine own. His mask and cloak lay where he had thrown them' upon the floor." — Vol. 2. p. 57.

Here it will be observed that, not only are the two general conceptions identical, but there are various points of similaritv. In each case the figure seen is the wraith or duplication of the beholder. In each case the scene is a masquerade. In each case the figure is cloaked. In each, there is a quarrel -- that is to say, angry words pass between the parties. In each the beholder is enraged. In each the cloak and sword fall upon the floor. The "villain, unmuffle yourself," of Mr. H. is precisely paralleled by a passage at page 56 of "William Wilson.

In the way of objection we have scarcely a word to say of these tales. There is, perhaps, a somewhat too general or prevalent tone — a tone of melancholy and mysticism.. The subjects are insufficiently varied. There is not so much of versatility evinced as we might well be warranted in expecting from the high powers of Mr. Hawthorne. But beyond these trivial exceptions we have really none to make. The style is purity itself. Force abounds. High imagination gleams from every page. Mr. Hawthorne is a man of the truest genius. We only regret that the limits of our Magazine will not permit us to pay him that full tribute of commendation, which, under other circumstances, we should be so eager to pay.

Since most of you don't listen to me at ALL about writing, I would like you to listen to where I GOT MY REASONING.

So now you guys can see what I wasn't just talking from my own ideas. These are Edgar Allan Poe's ideas mainly about writing; except he contradicts himself a bit in a few ways.

So try to read this with an open-mind. If you can read this and implement these ideals, you will become a superior writer. I am trying to help you people here, and if you wish to not believe that, then I am sorry.

A literary site should have the fiercest literary criticism.

One last thing: ""Show, don't tell." That's what they always say. It makes you think that if you always show everything, your writing is sure to be perfect. On one hand, "Show, don't tell" is good advice. If you tell somebody something they may or may not believe you, but if you show it to them they pretty much have to believe. That's why showing a character doing something is much more effective than telling the reader that the character did something."


This is what I've been barking about this entire time. I hope if you get ANYTHING from this, this is what you get. This goes for poetry as well.

[Underwater Ophelia]

Originally Posted by Super Spright

One last thing: ""Show, don't tell." That's what they always say. It makes you think that if you always show everything, your writing is sure to be perfect. On one hand, "Show, don't tell" is good advice. If you tell somebody something they may or may not believe you, but if you show it to them they pretty much have to believe. That's why showing a character doing something is much more effective than telling the reader that the character did something."


This is what I've been barking about this entire time. I hope if you get ANYTHING from this, this is what you get. This goes for poetry as well.

I think telling and not showing is the #1 made mistake in writing. It really dampens and flattens your writing, so I'd agree with you on saying if you get anything from this, let it be "show, don't tell."

[Minyaliel]

Thank you for sharing! Got anything similar on poetry?

[Mir]

Originally Posted by Super Spright

A literary site should have the fiercest literary criticism.

A literary site? *chortles*

Thanks for sharing this though.

[Godslayer Jillian]

Originally Posted by Mir

A literary site? *chortles*

Every now and then.

[Mir]

Fair enough. I can't complain. I don't post anything to the Literature section either.

[HumanePain]

AWESOME! Thanks Spright!

(Clicks "Print" to keep a hardcopy as a reference.)

"Bone Chilling Literary Culture," that's right in the top left corner of this website. Hence, a literary site.

[HumanePain]

Spright, I must say that as I step back and look at your recent posts about writing, and the overall effect that they are beginning to have on Gnet members and posts, that I see you are slowly changing this massive ship's course toward a more literary orientation. Thank you. I still agree with most Gnet members as to your social interaction skills, but I do not protest your attempt to change our course (as most people used to "the way things are" resist, as is normal human nature).

[Tin_Lizzie]

Originally Posted by Super Spright

"Bone Chilling Literary Culture," that's right in the top left corner of this website. Hence, a literary site.

That's why I joined. I'm in two (and a half) writer's groups and I can't find anyone with whom to discuss the craft. I say half, because one of the groups is more of a social thing. One of my groups only does critiques and the other group is all beginners so I'm sort of their mentor.

What do you think of the classic, The Elements of Style? I find myself recommending it often, because so many people have basic grammar and exposition problems.

[MotherofMercies]

Oooh thanks Spright!!

[Vako]

Thanks for posting the advice on writing, Super Spright. I must say though, that your demeanor on this site as far as I have observed is a bit off-putting. It comes off as if you have a superiority complex.

Yet as a person who is learning to write, the advice you posted is useful. Thanks.

No superiority complex. I am confident in Edgar Allan Poe, and other writer's opinions on writing; that's all I feel.

[emeraldlonewoulf]

Thank you for sharing what you have found. Some of us can benefit if we choose.

[Lord Macabre]

Now, I have gotten off on the wrong foot it seems with both Tin Lizzie and SuperSpright. Why? I don't know. You can take all the workshops in the world and never get it right. You can get a degree, an MFA, and a Ph.D. and still not be that great. There is a funny scene in "Adaptation" where the seasoned author tells Charlie Kauffman that writer's groups are for losers who lack talent and that critics are those who also lack talent and are bitter about it. Is that your case? I have been writing for some thirty years (published in the US, Great Britain, EU and China) as a hobby and find that the above is more often than not, true. The best advice I can give to potential writers is this, Screw your alleged fellow writers, they will pick you apart because they are either full of jealousy, have deep seated psychological problems, are insecure, or are just in general, bitter and angry. Go direct to your audience, let them tell you what they want and accept their criticism. Now, I am all for constructive criticism, but something that appears as a personal attack is just plain juvenile.

Never thought I'd see Tin Lizzie demonized next to me. Trust me, I am not jealous of anyone's writing ability, insecure, or "in general bitter and angry."

[Tin_Lizzie]

It’s unfair to categorize all writers as bitter and angry. Many of the successful writers I’ve met have been kind to everyone and generous with their time. Writing is a tough business, and we don’t need to take it out on each other. There’s enough rejection from the market.

Writer’s groups can be a great way to improve or they can be a great hindrance, depending on the personalities within the group. The same could be true in this case. I don’t care for the horror genre. Why do you take that as a personal attack? Clearly I don’t know you and you don’t know me. If a stranger responds to your plea for attention, and you don’t like it, a person who’s not insecure would say thanks for the input and move on.

I apologize for offending you, Macabre One. I try to speak honestly, without rancor, but obviously this time I’ve failed. Rather than make that error again, I shall choose to be silent in the future.

[HumanePain]

If you are writing to get approval, you are writing for the wrong reasons, or you are a marketing person for a business trying to sell to readers.

For prose, poetry, fiction, etc. the author should feel driven. When I wrote When Bats Sleep, I was writing late at night, writing at work, writing in airports, I was obsessed, I could not shut out the visions in my mind, they were looping, and my hands were typing as fast as my skill and biology would permit, my hands shaking with excitement. I even lost track of time and had to be reminded by my wife that it was time to eat, to sleep to pay bills, that I had a life in reality waiting for me but I could not stop! It is a fever! The story takes over, the characters demand to live and to be brought to life, your hands are merely instruments allowing them to be born through the keyboard and into type. That is when I am at my best anyway.

Yes, it's good when we have that...I think that when the greats are stricken with this 'writing fever' they can take those simple ideas and make them magnificent.