What's important to the character should be important to the reader (especially if we're talking about a POV or MC). If it's not, then the writer isn't doing their job.
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Good Advice For Great Action Scenes
- Thread starter Addison
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What's important to the character should be important to the reader (especially if we're talking about a POV or MC). If it's not, then the writer isn't doing their job.
FifthView
Vala
Yes, but the reader may need more details than a character needs.
What lies behind this thought is the sort of tunnel-vision, white room effect that sometimes happens when only considering the scene through the character's POV when writing it.
If instead we consider the scene through a vision of what we think will best engage the reader, and then use the POV character as a lens for those details, the results will be better. This doesn't mean ignoring what's important to the character; what's important to the character is one of those details we are providing to the reader, heh, a part of what we think will best engage the reader.
Not sure I follow, but I'll say this...
Clarity is king. Without clarity, you have nothing.
Beyond that, it's what important to the character in my writing.
FifthView
Vala
Ah, that's all right, heh.
I'm trying to look at writing as something done for the reader, but of course this is obviously the case, heh. I wonder if this is sometimes forgotten with the focus on viewing a scene through a character's eyes. The omniscient approach Herbert used allowed the provision of multiple details to that duel scene that quite easily might have been overlooked if the whole scene had been written from a single intimate POV, Paul's or his mother's. The contrast intrigues me. I've often been enamored of Robin Hobb's first-person approach which seems to include much more detail/description than other first-person approaches; so, I think broader description and detail can be achieved through limited POVs than what I sometimes find in the first-person style others use.
Anyway, this is possibly a topic for another thread.
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DragonOfTheAerie
Vala
Wait, this is a really interesting way to think about it. Of course we'd have to include detail about the character's emotions...what they are thinking and feeling...
Shouldn't we define "detail?" How much detail, and where? Detail about what? The character's thoughts/feelings? The setting? The events that are occurring?
FifthView
Vala
Probably, this depends on the particular scene and what the author wants to communicate.
I will say, however, that emotions/thoughts alone don't do it for me. I'd tie this back to that idea of MRUs mentioned elsewhere—even though those three letters seem to perturb some, heh. Basically, the character's not in a void, a white room, lacking context. So I'd say that if you want to show a character's internal thoughts and emotions, the best way is to first provide a stimulus, an objective reality, and then have that provoke the emotional or mental response. In a love scene, this could be the lover's hand sliding down the side of the beloved. Or maybe it could be the sounds of footsteps, voices, and a school bell ringing on the other side of the janitorial closet's door, heh. It could be the frown that suddenly clouds the beloved's face. Basically, depending on what you want to communicate in this scene—to the reader—the stimulus will change because the reaction you want to show will be different than any other of the 1000000 potential reactions you might give to a character.
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Yes. None of this works in a vacuum.
I just find that emotion, in conjunction with action, is usually what is missing. Emotion should, more often than not, be the focus.
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With respect to level of detail, you can hurt an action scene as much by having too much detail as by having too little. In most cases, an author probably isn't looking to slow the pace of a story with an action scene. Quite the opposite, in fact. Important details given throughout the scene are likely to be more effective than weighing the scene down with an abundance of detail. There are exceptions, of course. If you're describing a fencing duel between master duelists you may very well describe every movement, every tell, and keep the scene moving at a measured pace as befits the action that is taking place. When critiquing, however, I've seen more action scenes hurt by an overabundance of detail--blow by blow recitation, as though describing a few rounds of D&D combat--than by the opposite.
As for which details should be shown as a consequence of POV, if you've been in a very tight third-person POV the entire story then I'd be hesitant to move out of it in an action scene in order to show details the character can't know. Yes, this can be done effectively, but I think it is more likely to look like a POV screwup on the part of the author. If you're writing an omniscient POV to begin with, then of course the whole field of battle is open to you.
When people write in omniscient POV, they seem more likely to sacrifice the emotion that T.Allen.Smith is talking about. In critique group, I see a lot of work where there is little to no emotional connection to the character, and quite often it is associated with a distant POV. A skilled author can write a distant POV and still maintain that emotional connection, but on the whole I think moving in for a closer, tighter POV makes it much easier to achieve that connection. Personally, I don't think you lose much by limiting detail to what the POV character perceives. If your work is one that relies on a more broad POV, then it seems to me you have to be even more judicious in terms of what detail to provide, because there is so much more detail available, and you want to make sure that whatever emotional impact you're going for isn't lost in the more distant narrative.
As for which details should be shown as a consequence of POV, if you've been in a very tight third-person POV the entire story then I'd be hesitant to move out of it in an action scene in order to show details the character can't know. Yes, this can be done effectively, but I think it is more likely to look like a POV screwup on the part of the author. If you're writing an omniscient POV to begin with, then of course the whole field of battle is open to you.
When people write in omniscient POV, they seem more likely to sacrifice the emotion that T.Allen.Smith is talking about. In critique group, I see a lot of work where there is little to no emotional connection to the character, and quite often it is associated with a distant POV. A skilled author can write a distant POV and still maintain that emotional connection, but on the whole I think moving in for a closer, tighter POV makes it much easier to achieve that connection. Personally, I don't think you lose much by limiting detail to what the POV character perceives. If your work is one that relies on a more broad POV, then it seems to me you have to be even more judicious in terms of what detail to provide, because there is so much more detail available, and you want to make sure that whatever emotional impact you're going for isn't lost in the more distant narrative.
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I totally get this. I have the advantage of being able to orally tell stories to my son. This is crazy different than simply writing them from my own head, and has a separate set of challenges (no going back to edit lol. Often not super gorgeous prose). But where it is light years ahead of writing stories is in the action scenes. Why? Because as I'm telling him the action scene I can watch his little face. I can see when I'm starting to lose him, when his little eyes light up, when he pulls the blankets over his head in fear. Most often, when he pulls his blankets over his head in fear is not when the monster is revealed, or when a particularly bad sword slices the MC's arm a little too deeply... no, it's when I add a story twist, or remind him of the stakes. It's when things "start to get real" for the character and I throw in a memory of poor old mum, sitting at home nervously waiting for him to come home. It's when I throw in that emotional moment and my little boy's heart starts to hurt. That's when I know I have him.
So I think there is something to this. You are writing for the reader. These emotional details, re-iterating the stakes, are what make action scenes interesting.
But also, Donald Maas gave a great example in 21st Century Fiction:
Action doesn't generate tension? Not by itself. This misapprehension was brought home to me one day when I taught a workshop for Chi Libris.... A participant offered a paragraph from a work-in-progress in which a cougar carried a toddler across a stream (in it's mouth, in case you were wondering), pursued by the stories protagonist.
The passage was well written, visually clear - and not particularly scary. When I asked, "What do you think will happen next?" hardly anyone cared. I then asked, "How can we add tension?" Initially the suggestions focused on making the cougar more menacing, raising the stakes (the toddler is a senators child!), changing the protagonist's actions, etc. Still no one cared.
Then cam a suggestion that held the key to increasing tension: Heighten the emotions of the point of view character. Even better, create conflicting emotions. Bingo. Suddenly the moment sprang to life. Both the interest level and uncertainly of the outcome spiralled up.
Well, expect for a group of male authors clustered in the back row. "But what if the cougar reared up his hind legs?" "Cougars have viscous fangs, what if it's lips curled back?" The guys didn't want to let go of the idea that tension comes from claws.
Finally, I improvised a version of the passage that went something like this:
The cougar splashed across the stream, the toddler limp in its jaws. Jim splashed after it, snapping off a branch. No way was he backing down. Forget it. It was man against nature. And this time man was going to win.
Simple as that was, interest increased. Someone noticed that the hero's determination was undercut by the words "this time". Another participant wondered "What happened last time?" Exactly. It's the contrast between Jim's bravado and his fear (both implied, please notice) that makes the outcome uncertain, thus forcing the reader to go to the next paragraph. [/I]
FifthView
Vala
One of the reasons Frank Herbert's head-hopping omniscient works so well is that he moves in very close, intimate, whenever he hops into a head. A reader who knew nothing about Dune and randomly opened the book to a few paragraphs might think the whole book's in 3rd limited–depending on which paragraphs he happens to read.
For me, the question of what the POV character perceives is the big question when dealing with a limited POV. When writing, we have the opportunity to decide what falls within that perception. I think that a character's perception can become focused, with conscious attention on some detail, but that a character naturally perceives things peripherally also. No matter what I'm studying, my own peripheral sight takes in much more of the world; that world can be lost on the reader if this peripheral matter is entirely ignored. Plus, during stressful moments, quite a number of thoughts might enter a character's head, beyond simply thoughts about the immediate focus. So we have some leeway in deciding which details to include.
FifthView
Vala
@Helio:
The thing I like about providing objective detail along with emotional and mental reactions of the character is that this allows the reader to assess the situation also.
A description of claws, a deep sword slice to the arm, whatever, without some included emotional or mental reaction from the character, might allow this; but on the other hand, a response from the character clarifies things for the reader. A simple thought experiment:
One character might get a slice to the arm and not think much of it; he's been sliced before in combat.
Another character might get a slice to the arm and suddenly realize that this other man, his opponent, is his equal–or even, a better swordsman.
Without those reactions, the reader doesn't know which is the case, heh, and evaluating the objective reality becomes hard. Heck, the objective reality might actually be vague, impossible to evaluate.
Alternatively, simply describing a character's mental and emotional state without including the objective details that provoke those responses could leave a reader feeling that it's much ado about nothing.
The thing I like about providing objective detail along with emotional and mental reactions of the character is that this allows the reader to assess the situation also.
A description of claws, a deep sword slice to the arm, whatever, without some included emotional or mental reaction from the character, might allow this; but on the other hand, a response from the character clarifies things for the reader. A simple thought experiment:
One character might get a slice to the arm and not think much of it; he's been sliced before in combat.
Another character might get a slice to the arm and suddenly realize that this other man, his opponent, is his equal–or even, a better swordsman.
Without those reactions, the reader doesn't know which is the case, heh, and evaluating the objective reality becomes hard. Heck, the objective reality might actually be vague, impossible to evaluate.
Alternatively, simply describing a character's mental and emotional state without including the objective details that provoke those responses could leave a reader feeling that it's much ado about nothing.
Exactly. So it lets the reader gauge the severity of the situation as well, like putting a common object in a photograph to show the scale.
You mentioned MRU's and I think that is a good example of how going back and focussing on something like MRU's can force you to add in that stuff. The typical MRU pattern is
Motivation
Reaction
Thought
Speech
Just recently, after we discussed them in a other thread, I spent some time focusing on the pattern in a short I'm working on.
The dance we do on the steps of Work House 14-B makes me weep.
Her face is as grey and withered and cracked as the steps we stand on. She trembles, not from fear or cold, but in the way all the aged tremble, like a dying leaf clinging on when there is nothing left to cling to.
She holds the purple gummy bears toward me in a withered hand.
“For the children.” She says. My heart pounds. I divert my eyes. I haven’t seen candy in years.
“I don’t have children.”
Her hand holds steady, though her face falls.
“Fin.” She whispers. “Isla.”
“I’m sorry.” I’ve said it a thousand times. Always on the same dingy step. Always desperate to get inside. Hungry. Tired. Clutching the bag of vitamins they give us so we don’t develop iron deficiency from the pre-packaged stringy meat and unidentifiable manufactured mineral mush.
Today she is different. Today she looks desperate. Cataracts have taken over the blue in her eyes. They are cloudy and liquid, like milk. Another thing I haven’t seen in years. Women used to make milk. I read it a medical book I found in the Pharma where I work. Before our time women had the capacity to make milk and they would ‘nurse’ their young, like an animal. Like a dairy cow, or a goat. Breasts huge and leaking like great hard udders. There are no dairy cows any more. Or goats. Or even children. Well, there must be children though I can’t remember the last time I saw one.
Tears leak from her eyes the way milk would have leaked from those breasts. Dripping. Salty and warm. My mouth waters. I want to lick it. Taste it. Remember what something real must have tasted like.
Thinking about MRU's forced me to add physical detail in places I wouldn't have, but also to take the time to put thoughts in places I wouldn't have. It is a good exercise.
You mentioned MRU's and I think that is a good example of how going back and focussing on something like MRU's can force you to add in that stuff. The typical MRU pattern is
Motivation
Reaction
Thought
Speech
Just recently, after we discussed them in a other thread, I spent some time focusing on the pattern in a short I'm working on.
The dance we do on the steps of Work House 14-B makes me weep.
Her face is as grey and withered and cracked as the steps we stand on. She trembles, not from fear or cold, but in the way all the aged tremble, like a dying leaf clinging on when there is nothing left to cling to.
She holds the purple gummy bears toward me in a withered hand.
“For the children.” She says. My heart pounds. I divert my eyes. I haven’t seen candy in years.
“I don’t have children.”
Her hand holds steady, though her face falls.
“Fin.” She whispers. “Isla.”
“I’m sorry.” I’ve said it a thousand times. Always on the same dingy step. Always desperate to get inside. Hungry. Tired. Clutching the bag of vitamins they give us so we don’t develop iron deficiency from the pre-packaged stringy meat and unidentifiable manufactured mineral mush.
Today she is different. Today she looks desperate. Cataracts have taken over the blue in her eyes. They are cloudy and liquid, like milk. Another thing I haven’t seen in years. Women used to make milk. I read it a medical book I found in the Pharma where I work. Before our time women had the capacity to make milk and they would ‘nurse’ their young, like an animal. Like a dairy cow, or a goat. Breasts huge and leaking like great hard udders. There are no dairy cows any more. Or goats. Or even children. Well, there must be children though I can’t remember the last time I saw one.
Tears leak from her eyes the way milk would have leaked from those breasts. Dripping. Salty and warm. My mouth waters. I want to lick it. Taste it. Remember what something real must have tasted like.
Thinking about MRU's forced me to add physical detail in places I wouldn't have, but also to take the time to put thoughts in places I wouldn't have. It is a good exercise.
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FifthView
Vala
Springing from our previous discussion about MRU's....I think that providing the objective stimulus first not only sets a reader's mind to questioning the significance of the provided detail, but can lead to some interesting effects once the character's reaction is given. The character's reaction can be what the reader anticipated from reading the objective detail; their responses, reader and character, can be simpatico. But the reaction can be unanticipated also, a character reacting differently than the reader expects. This can either move a reader to reevaluate his initial impressions, move more in line with the character, or it can set the character off as someone needing to be studied further, heh, or even someone with whom a reader disagrees. Any of these can be useful, depending on the story.
I'm just spit-balling that ^. Been on my mind since that other thread.
But to bring things a little back to the topic at hand...The way MRU's may work, or simply providing the objective detail along with the character response, aligns fairly well with the OODA Loop, an idea that has been used in some military theory, first conceived by an air force pilot who used it to describe the kind of decision making processes combat pilots used during combat.
Not to go into much detail just now, but OODA stands for Observe, Orient, Decide, Act. It is a cycle; actions can change the world, or the world itself changes during the process, necessitating a re-observation, re-orientation, and so on.
These are quite similar to the process of MRU.
I'm just spit-balling that ^. Been on my mind since that other thread.
But to bring things a little back to the topic at hand...The way MRU's may work, or simply providing the objective detail along with the character response, aligns fairly well with the OODA Loop, an idea that has been used in some military theory, first conceived by an air force pilot who used it to describe the kind of decision making processes combat pilots used during combat.
Not to go into much detail just now, but OODA stands for Observe, Orient, Decide, Act. It is a cycle; actions can change the world, or the world itself changes during the process, necessitating a re-observation, re-orientation, and so on.
These are quite similar to the process of MRU.
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