The eightfold way revisited, part two…
Thursday, July 19th, 2018[I wrote this quite a while ago and have repeated it a few times in this blog. It made the rounds on other blogs somewhere in the past. Why does this zombie rise again out of its grave to persecute you, dear reader? Because I still think it’s good advice about what NOT to do when writing a novel, so I’ve updated that advice a bit and repeated it here yet again. If you’ve been a fan of this blog for a long time, and you’re tired of seeing this, just skip today’s post.]
(5) Don’t dwell on minutia. That’s the minimalist idea yet again. Moby and 20,000 Leagues again come to mind. Assume the reader already has a good idea about how to brush his teeth, for example—I’m reminded of those websites (do they exist anymore?) where one watches someone go through their day. Boring! I have better ways to spend my time. If a character goes from point X to point Y, the reader doesn’t need to know what happened between X and Y, unless it’s essential to the plot (he sits on a butterfly and changes the space-time continuum?).
(6) Don’t be cute. The TV series Lost had many followers, but most people were turned off by the convoluted pseudo-spiritual and multiple endings, and the many flash-forwards were confusing, to say the least. The writers were too cute. I’ve seen this happen in novels I review. I might be old-fashioned, but I avoid flash-forwards entirely. Garcia-Marquez in one of his novellas, Chronicle of a Death Foretold, gets cute and announces the ending right up front, then spends the rest of the novella telling the reader how that came to pass. He gets away with it—he’s a Nobel prize-winner, after all. Generally speaking, though, you won’t. (Deaver’s worst book was one he wrote in reverse—way too cute! I stopped reading after Chapter Two, i.e. the second chapter from the end.)
(7) Don’t use clichéd plots. Yeah, I know, there are only so many different story types, but I’ve read about too many twins separated at birth, too many aliens that seem like mafiosos, a plethora of amnesia victims running from bad guys, hordes of star-crossed lovers with families that don’t understand (R & J is not Shakespeare’s best work), and so forth. In particular, if I can map your story into one of Shakespeare’s plays by any stretch of my own fertile imagination, I’m suspicious. Clichés also reduced my enjoyment of the Star Wars trilogy—too many plot elements were lifted straight from Isaac Asimov and Edgar Rice Burroughs’ work, as well as ninja and fairy tales.