Saturday, 24 June 2017
It’s a common question writers ask. What is dramatic irony and what does it mean? Is it useful for authors?
Many writers mistake dramatic irony with creating some sort of drama with an ironic twist, but it’s nothing really much to do with actual drama, but rather the effect it creates. When we refer to dramatic irony, it means the reader knows something that the characters don’t.
Why include this in our writing? It’s a way for the writer to involve the reader – they know what’s about to happen, especially if it embroils the main character, but they can’t do anything about it except read on. It’s like scuba diving – you can see the dark menace lurking behind your diving buddy, but he’s completely unaware of the imminent danger.
This literary device helps the reader to experience what’s happening on a much deeper level than just reading about Character A going about his business with Characters B and C. By allowing the reader in on what will happen – rather like sharing a secret – they become aware of danger, tension, fears and emotions, because they can guess what might happen to the character who is completely unaware.
There might be a killer lurking in the shadows, creeping around outside a house, and the writer can show this to the reader, but inside the house, the victim is unaware of such danger.
Why do we use dramatic irony?
We use it to create drama and atmosphere at key stages within the novel. If the reader is privy to something that the character is not, it raises the tension and suspense for the reader. It also gives the narrative a different dimension because it allows the reader to become part of that moment, more involved, and if revolves around a main character, then emotions are heightened and the immediacy between character and reader becomes stronger. This happens because we don’t want anything bad to happen to the hero, and the threat of impending tragedy will do just that.
Every author has used dramatic irony to a greater of lesser degree, everyone from Shakespeare and virtually all his plays to Stephen King. And they use it because it’s a great way to connect with the reader on a very different level.
When is it best to use it?
When the drama of an important scene demands it. For instance, the hero could be searching for something or someone, but he’s not aware of the gang lying in wait for him, however the reader is aware. You may have a scene where the hero is about enter a situation that could end terribly – in a courtroom for instance - but he won’t know that. The reader will. This is how dramatic irony works, and more often than not, authors actually create this without thinking about it, rather like an in-built ability. That’s because of the way we write if working with 3rd person multiple POV. It allows the viewpoint of many characters, and therefore, it allows the reader to see things that other characters won’t.
While dramatic irony works well for 3rd person POV, it will not work for first person, since the viewpoint cannot change.
If you want to create extra atmosphere, tension and emotion, make sure you employ dramatic irony. The narrative will be much better for it.
Next week: How can you make your writing stand out?
Sunday, 18 June 2017
Beginners often confuse the two, thinking they’re the same, but they’re not the same. They may sound similar in what they do, but there are differences.
When we talk about voice, we’re describing the writer’s personal voice; his or her personality. It’s a highly particular and distinctive tone, a developed way of writing that is unique to the writer, formed from their personality and the way they construct their words, sentences and paragraphs. Voice is, and should be, as individual as a fingerprint. And it’s that fingerprint that readers come to recognise.
Think of someone’s voice – how different it is from others. It might be deep and velvety or it could be raspy and sexy. Or perhaps it’s helium like. Everyone’s actual voice is different and unique, and a writer’s voice works in much the same way, so voice is distinguished because of the way something is written, how it’s written and the tone of the writing.
The thing with voice is that is doesn’t happen overnight. It certainly doesn’t happen in your first novel. That’s because voice must be developed, and that process of discovering the individuality and distinctive tone takes a while, usually over a period of a couple of years.
A strong voice helps the writing stand out – it leaps from the page because it’s so different and unique. So writers should take the time to develop their voice instead of rushing into self-publishing something that is neither unique, nor stands out from the other millions of books.
How do you know you’ve finally found your voice? It happens when you write with it without even noticing. When you re-read your work at editing stage, your voice will be there – those little tell-tale markers that pinpoint how you write, and no one else.
Style is more expansive than voice in that it encompasses so many things. Generally speaking, style is the way something is written, a manner within the narrative that readers recognise. People are said to have their own sense of style, and it’s no different with writing. Every writer has his or her own style of writing.
Some writers love elegant, descriptive writing. Others like to use long and complex sentences. Some prefer to dazzle with lots of symbolism, metaphors and imagery, while others writers use sparse prose and simple sentences, which gives the writing a raw, gritty narrative.
My readers know my style of writing – it makes use of semi colons and em-dashes and asides to enhance character, and descriptions are generally poetic.
Style is recognisable. Hemingway and Nabokov are recognisable by their descriptions. Stephen King, Terry Prachett and JK Rowling have their own styles. Dickens had a simple style, while Shakespeare’s was more romantic and ornate. Every one of them is different from the other – that unique way of writing separates them from each other.
The thing writers shouldn’t do is change their style or voice to suit a particular genre or to fit in with something. The result will be a contrived mess. If you have a style, whether that is minimalist, gritty, blunt, elaborate, florid or passionate, develop it, because it’s your unique stamp, and it will fit whatever genre you write.
Style and voice are different, yet they’re generally considered one and the same thing. In truth, an author’s style refers to the way he or she writes, while ‘author’s voice’ is the author’s personality and personal view of the world. Both require discovery and development.
Next week: Dramatic irony.
Sunday, 11 June 2017
We all know that description plays a major part in fiction writing, which is used to balance the narrative and dialogue, but there is another essential element of it that uses non-verbal movement – body language and gestures. This is also known as kinesics.
It’s said that 93% of conversation is non-verbal (Albert Mehrabrian, Silent Messages, published 1971), and that is because we often use our body to communicate, even when there are no words being spoken, such as facial, movements and hand gestures that show sentiment or feeling. Expressions – and their associated movements - often convey a person’s emotions. Body postures can also show the inner feelings of someone – whether they are stiff and awkward, or relaxed and happy.
This kind of description is overlooked by many writers and that’s because it’s something they don’t really think too much about. But writing isn’t just about writing – it’s about observation. So when you see people engaged in conversation, there is more going on beneath the surface than you realise. Their body language will tell you more about what is not being said than what is actually being said.
So in any story, writers use body language and gestures – kinesics – to show more than is actually being said; it’s visual, and readers love visual prompts, but body language should be written in the context of the narrative; it has to be consistent with the scene and what you want to convey.
In dialogue, body language shows the reader what the words cannot, since dialogue is telling rather than showing. It adds depth to those seemingly unimportant moments; it shows us true emotional states beneath the words that are spoken. These visual prompts work well to show the reader how one character may really feel, and they are often inserted with beats between the dialogue, for example:
‘I knew this would happen...’ The lines across her forehead deepened and she swallowed hard. ‘I shouldn’t have let him go.’
His shoulders rose like a burgeoning shadow. ‘I don’t think for one minute you cared. You’re just out for yourself. ’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But you’ve been found out...’
The first example shows the woman’s expression deepening with a furrow, followed by swallowing hard, which shows her anxiety and fear. The second example uses the rise of the man’s shoulders to show slight anger and the narrowing of the eyes is often a sign of disbelief or suspicion.
These subtle snippets help to characterise because they show characteristic behaviours we all recognise.
In descriptive moments, writers show body language to underscore the true emotions or feelings of a character and to compliment the description. Again, it is another way of adding depth, and readers will appreciate visual prompts, for example:
He peered around the wall and saw the crowd. He sucked in a deep breath to calm the torrent in his chest. He fiddled with his tie as he tried to remember his speech...
She waited at the entrance, breath caught in her throat, as she wrung her hands as though washing away imaginary dirt, her head low.
In the first example the man sucks in a breath and then fidgets with his tie. These are signs of nerves and anxiety; the body gives away clues without even having to say a word. In the second example, the movement of the woman’s hands suggests some inner emotional turmoil, while the act of hanging the head low is passive stance, or perhaps a submissive one. Again, although subtle, it helps to reveal character and adds complexity to characterisation.
The use of body language is an effective way of controverting what a character is actually saying. They may say one thing, but their body language says another and often their emotions give them away. It is a clever way to subvert emotions that are implied by feelings that are really visible.
Crossing arms is a defensive stance. Tapping of fingers on something is generally a sign of annoyance. Hands on hips can signify all sorts, within the context of the narrative – such as defiance, indifference or even boredom. Some people play with their hair. Some people scratch their ears or nose. Some people cross their legs when they’re annoyed and often bob their foot up and down to show it. Some people bite their lip when they’re nervous. We often arch our eyebrows as a sign of curiosity or incredulity. We stiffen our bodies to show we’re not intimidated, or we shrink back if we are. The list is endless.
Body language doesn’t have to be over the top, so don’t overwhelm the story, otherwise you will overburden the narrative and it will slow the story down. Kinesics works because it’s subtle. It shows actions underscoring emotions, and helps to show rather than tell. So next time you write dialogue or description, don’t forget kinesics:
- Body posture
- Facial expressions
- General movement
Next week: Is style the same as voice?
Sunday, 4 June 2017
Characterisation is important if you want to create believable characters, and character development is a way for writers to achieve this. The phrase ‘getting into your character’s head’ means the writer needs to have a fundamental understanding of the main character’s background, motivation, beliefs and goals – the very things that can influence the what the character does in the story, how they behave and how they act and react.
It means that everything is written instinctively. In other words, you don’t ponder how your character will act in one situation or what he would say. Instead you just write it, because you automatically know exactly what the character will do and say.
The reality is that the character is in your head; your creation, but the strength of characterisation is such that you can get into his or her mind at any moment, without losing focus, to feel his or her emotions, thoughts and feelings.
How do we do it?
Firstly, ask yourself how well you know your main character. If your characterisation isn’t strong enough, you won’t be able to get into the protagonist’s head; you’ll struggle to understand many character elements.
Character development, unlike characterisation, is an ongoing process throughout a story, because of the situations they face, obstacles they overcome and the traumas they endure. Characterisation, however, starts at the very beginning, before you commit even one word to the story, so it’s vital to characterise. You have to know what they like, dislike, love, hate, their beliefs, passions, relationships etc. Understand their physical, psychological and sociological characteristics, and how they see themselves in the world and with other people. Know their personality, what makes them tick.
Know who they are and what their backstory is – this is vital to how they behave in the story. Everyone’s past shapes how they behave in the present. What are the events that have brought them to the present moment?
Know what the character wants – what is their motivation? Why are they undertaking their journey? How do they feel about it? What will they accomplish and how would they feel if they failed? Something important must be at stake for them to do what they’re willing to do in order to achieve their goal. If you understand the character’s motivations, then it’s easier to understand his or her thoughts and feelings.
Make the character relatable. The vital connection for this is emotion, which in turn creates empathy with the reader. Emotions are universal to all of us – we feel pain, joy, sorrow and hate. Some things make us angry, some things make us laugh. But we can all relate to emotions, so as writers we tap into that, because we know readers will understand all these feelings; they will empathise with the character.
The one thing writers do to get into their character’s head is to echo their own feelings and thoughts and emotions. For instance, when you failed at something, how did you feel? Did it hurt deep inside? Were you angry? Disappointed or bitter?
When you lost something dear, did you feel distraught, sad or maybe depressed? And if something amazing happened, how did you react? Did you celebrate, did you get drunk or did you simply smile to yourself?
If you know your character well enough, you’ll know exactly how he or she would act and react or behave in any given situation.
- Characterise before writing.
- Know their backstory and past.
- Know what the character wants, and why. Know exactly what motivates them.
- Make the character relatable to the reader – what are their goals, what’s at stake?
- Know their thoughts, behaviours, traits, emotions and feelings.
Next week: Using body language (kinesics) to characterise.