I’ve been reading more of John Gardner’s On Becoming a Novelist and I’d like to share some quotes on generous and ungenerous writers. 
In the best fiction, plot is not a series of surprises but an increasingly moving series of recognitions, or moments of understanding.
Gardner calls this generous fiction. Here is his definition of the opposite.
Ungenerous fiction is first and foremost fiction in which the writer is unwilling to take the reader as an equal partner.
He uses an example of a story where a man (Frank) moves into the house next door to the house of his teen-age daughter (Wanda), but she does not know that he is her father. Then he gives the examples of how foolish and wise writers might differ in their storytelling.
What the foolish or inexperienced writer does with this idea is hide the father-daughter relationship from the reader as well as from the daughter until the last minute, at which point he jumps out and yells: “Surprise!”
The wise or more experienced writer gives the reader the information he needs to understand the story moment by moment, with the result that instead of asking, as he reads, “What’s going to happen to the characters next?” the reader asks, ”What will Frank do next? What would Wanda say if Frank were to … ” and so on. Involving himself in the story in this way, the reader feels true suspense, which is to say, true concern for the characters.
Gardener then goes on to say that by being a generous writer you allow your reader to worry about, understand, and care about your character. Your reader will become emotionally involved in the story.
Are you enabling your reader to live vicariously through your characters?
I can state -- almost unequivocally -- that the title of this blog does not refer to my mental state. It refers to my writing, which does, of course, flow out of my mind. Sometimes the process of writing is messy, sometimes weird, sometimes beautiful -- and always harder than I wish, but I love it. As I wander back into the real world from time to time, I hope to entertain you with my musings.
This is interesting. I think of myself as a generous writer, I guess (but then who wants to brand themselves a fool).
In the past, I had a writing professor tell me that reading in order to emotionally identify with the characters doesn’t allow the reader to fully appreciate and understand the story. He urged us to read objectively instead. I’m not saying I necessarily agree with this professor (ok, so actually, I thought he was mad and that his bowties looked stupid), but I do think the debate about reading objectively versus reading and connecting emotionally with characters is an interesting one. What do you think?
This certainly is an interesting thought, but not one I think I understand … unless your professor was speaking about how to read for analysis, not for enjoyment. And I think this is the very reason so many people are turned off by the classics “studied” in high school English classes.
But speaking strictly as a reader, if it’s fiction and I feel no connection to at least one character, I’m not likely to finish the book. And my purpose as a writer of fiction is to make my imaginary world real to you so you can escape there for a while. You might be interested in this earlier post of mine: http://lindacassidylewis.com/2009/12/13/blue-toes-and-good-writing/.
Good food for thought. I’ve read Gardner’s Art of Fiction but not this one. I’ll add Becoming a Novelist on my to read list.
I had this checked out from the library, but I think I’ll buy a copy.
Those are definitely interesting observations. I’ve been making notes to myself about similar things as I read through the draft – what to reveal when, how to reveal things subtly (and, at times, not-so-subtly), how to do all this while making the reader invest emotionally…so this was a timely post for me!
So: thanks! The book sounds pretty good, perhaps I’ll have to pick it up.
I think it’s the kind of book you can read again and again and still learn something new.
So… no surprise endings? I actually agree with that in a novel, but I like the occasional trick ending story or movie – especially in flash fiction (though I’ve never actually written one). I’m generous to a fault!
Still, I’ve heard that editors frown on trick endings, and I know my professors always did. So maybe it’s good advice after all.
Judy, I thought about this too. I know a lot of flash fiction uses a surprise, not necessarily a trick, ending. And I thought about movies like the Sixth Sense. I can’t speak for Gardner, but maybe he wasn’t talking about genre fiction. Then again, in the Sixth Sense, for example, when you watched it a second time you picked up the clues that the mc was dead. So, did the screenplay violate the rules of generous writing? And even in the flash stories that use a surprise ending, does the surprise come because information was purposely withheld by the writer or because the reader assumed something in error?
I also think this applies to staying true to the character and also to pov.
I try to be generous, but I tend to leave out just enough information for readers to think they understand my stories, except they’re imagining something completely different than I’d intended.
For example, in the rushed closing of a flash story (900 words), a forest ranger fires a gun into the air to distract a herd of elk. Unfortunately, all the critiquers saw the ranger as a member of the MC’s family who shoots one of the elks, and none of the critiquers seem particularly happy with their version. Big fail on my part.
Another example: In a short sci-fi/action story entered as part of a challenge last year, the critiquers imagined relationships that didn’t exist and that, for the most part, didn’t matter for the story. Especially interesting was that everyone chose a different side character to root for.
I really need to slow down and give more detail in my stories.
Sometimes it’s the reader’s fault; for whatever reason, they make a wrong assumption and then build on it, but if several people got the wrong idea, you’re probably right that you didn’t give enough detail. I think there may be a fine line between giving just enough and giving too much.
Once, someone whose critiquing I value said to me, “You are an artist who works in subtlety.” She meant this as a compliment, and yet I always wonder if I’m being too subtle. But that’s one of the values of a critique group, isn’t it? It’s a way to find out if readers are “getting it” or not.
I keep reading the excerpt that you’ve given us, and I’m trying to digest it. At first I thought I disagreed because I enjoy a bit of surprise. On the other hand, reader involvement is paramount.
However, if I consider it in more general terms, it makes more sense. Gardner was not merely talking about surprise endings, he was talking about “a series of surprises.” Eww. I don’t want to read that sort of plot. I want meat.
So . . . even though I haven’t read the book (I’m checking the library), I’m hoping that he is telling us to keep the reader involved – without giving him so much that he won’t need to finish the book.
Sorry, I don’t have the book now to look. I know he said a lot more about this and one point he made was about viewpoint. If you wrote it from the father’s pov without revealing their relationship that would be a cheat because, of course, the father would be well aware of this. And if you wrote it from the daughter’s pov, with her being unaware of the relationship, there would be no suspense, no emotional involvement from the reader wondering how the situation would be resolved.
Nice reminder, Linda.
Thank you.
I love this discussion about generous vs. non-generous. I think Judy brings up a great point with flash fiction. To add to that part of the discussion, in flash fiction there simply isn’t time to get to know the characters in an emotional way. But, with a novel, I think we (the writer) do want the readers to become more attached, slip into the mind of one or other of the characters. That seems to happen with slow reveals more often than a surprise at the end.
Talking about surprise endings, Flannery O’Connor often shocks the readers at the end of her stories (or she always does me). Yet, she makes it clear who the villain is right away. Have you read “A Good Man is Hard to Find?”
I’m not sure you can’t get a little involved in flash. It’s harder to write that in, for sure. But certainly it should be there in a novel.
Do you mean O’Connor’s story by that name or the whole collection by that name? I read that book a few years ago, and do remember the title story, but don’t recall a surprise at the end … well, not the very end. Maybe you didn’t mean that. I’ll have to look again.
I mean the short story by that name. Though I haven’t read all of her works, the stories I have read all have the same style to them.
In fact, in reading Cynthia Newberry Martin’s series on taking a story apart, I wonder about looking at Flannery O’Connor’s stories. That would require me to sign up for an MFA program, though, or at least find a good mentor. I couldn’t break down Flannery O’Connor alone.
I did a quick search and it looks like there are a fair amount of discussions and analysis of that story online. It’s a start.
We could do it together : )
Cynthia, I’m attempting your challenged on Dimensions. I’ve printed it out, but haven’t had time to read it yet.
I would love, love, love that.
Where do we start?
page 1-ha!
: )
I have not read this book. Interesting viewpoint. I had to say though that I think the first scenario of us not knowing Frank is the father could work really well as well. Depends how it’s done. Caring about a character is first and foremost for me as a reader and a writer.
I didn’t quote enough of Gardner’s book to do him justice, I’m afraid. The full scenario he presented did support his reasoning that it would be cheating the reader to not reveal the father-daughter relationship.