Today’s writing inspiration – for NaNoWriMo entrants and for writers of all persuasions – is Notre Dame Cathedral. I took this photo late in the day after Evensong had finished, hand-held, using Fuji ASA 200 Supericolor stock. I had to guess the exposure, as my light meter decided to break just at that instant. But it came out OK.
I took this photo by guesswork after my camera’s light meter broke.
Notre Dame is an inspiring place in so many ways, bringing together as it does such a fabulous blend of tradition, culture, history, fantastic architecture – and mythology, right there in the heart of a wonderful city, Paris.
Have you been to Notre Dame? And does it inspire you?
Today’s writing inspiration – for NaNoWriMo entrants as they plan for next month’s writing sprint and for writers of all persuasions – is a photo I took the other week of Sydney harbour on a sunny Saturday afternoon, filled with boats scurrying in all directions.
Sydney harbour on a sunny Saturday afternoon…
Sydney has to be one of the world’s great cities – certainly, with its bridge and Opera House, one of the most iconic. What we forget is that it is also a city of vibrant life, pivoting around Port Jackson with its 240 km of winding coastline.
Today’s writing inspiration – for NaNoWriMo entrants and for writers of all persuasions – is a photo I took last week in Wellington airport.
Gandalf and friend…
This sculpture, by Weta Workshop, is enormous. Effectively life size. And, though we all know Tolkien’s story, I think there’s a good deal there to inspire original tales of our own, if we step back and let our imaginations drift.
The other week someone asked me how many points of view it’s possible to have in a novel. It’s a tricky question. The best answer – certainly for novice or learning novelists – is ‘one’. That’s the simplest.
It’s simplest because the author is dealing with but one major character arc, and a single point of view can be handled from various writing angles – first person singular (‘I’), as if the novel was a personal narrative. The reader only gets to see what the narrator sees. It’s closely related to ‘third person singular’ – which is the same as first person, but where the author steps back and refers to the lead character as ‘he’ or ‘she’. But they don’t reveal anything that anybody else sees.
Both angles offer differing advantages, depending on what the author has in mind. With first person singular, for instance, it’s possible to play with styles. The classic, to my mind, is George McDonald Fraser’s Flashman series, written in first person singular in the style of a ‘found’ nineteenth century memoir, to the point where one reviewer thought it actually was. Brilliant. It’s harder to produce that sense with third person singular, where the writing style is more independent of the content. But that independence may be what’s desired.
Handling multiple points of view – in effect, treating every character as a lead – is possible but quite tricky to accomplish well. It virtually dictates that the novel has to be written from ‘third person plural’ perspective – ‘he’ or ‘she’ perspectives, covering multiple people. It’s possible to play with styles and voices to give a different feel to each narrator. But it carries structural complexities – the multiple ‘lead’ character arcs have to be very carefully planned so they mesh properly around the plot, as just one challenge.
Great novel writing definitely includes multiple POV. But I would not recommend this for novice authors. Nor would I recommend it for a contest like NaNoWriMo – it’s too time-consuming to get multiple POV right. I can be done, of course – but don’t forget, what I’m talking about here isn’t just how to write fast. It’s how to write fast with quality. Some forms of writing – well, they impose speed limits. And multiple POV is one of them.
Today’s writing inspiration – for NaNoWriMo entrants and for writers of all persuasions – is a photo I took during the 2014 Napier Art Deco weekend. It’s a fun festival celebrating the magic of fantasy Hollywood, all to the backdrop of the fabulous art deco buildings in Napier, New Zealand.
Anybody might think it was 1940…
The V12 Rolls Royce Phantom, centre frame, never did grace Napier’s streets at the time. But it’s fun to dream, fun to imagine. What I wonder, would the lives of the people who owned such a vehicle in the late 1930s have been like?
One of the key things all novellists have to master is the character arc. It’s fundamental to the nature of the novel – the reason why readers become emotionally engaged. Usually, the arc of the main character dictates the fundamental plot structure of the novel.
So what is a ‘character arc’? At basic level, it’s the journey a character takes as a person. They learn something. They develop. They change. The plot and events of the novel will always be about how they make that change. What does the character need to learn? How can they discover the better person they probably already believe themselves to be?
Take Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. It’s all about Ebenezer Scrooge’s personal character arc – his transformation from a mean-spirited Grinch into a kind and generous man. The whole of the plot is subordinated to that goal. So how does Dickens handle it? Very, very unsubtly, broadly as allegory. That, of course, is why this tale is such a great way of exploring the integration between plot and character arc. Several key points emerge:
Scrooge doesn’t know how to find his own joy. So the key tension of the character arc is going to be one of self-discovery. Undoing self-delusion is one of several possible character arcs.
The plot of the story takes us on a journey through that character arc – it is designed to show first how Scrooge has insulated himself from Christmas joy, then how he is made to discover himself. It’s not subtle – nor did Dickens intend it to be. When the transformation is complete, we are shown how Scrooge has become a different man. The narrative ends there because there is nothing more to say about Scrooge’s transformation. The story is over.
Dickens didn’t ‘pad’ the story with any unnecessary events. Everything was subordinated to defining Scrooge and taking us on a journey through his character transformation.
The drama came wholly from within Scrooge – driven by that internal transformation. It didn’t rely or need external crises, adventure or other setting. And that’s the best way to develop story drama.
If you deconstruct other stories you’ll often find much the same thing – Tolkien’s The Hobbit, for instance, which is the classic hero journey.
Plot and narrative, in short, all swing around the needs of the characters. Something writers have to bear uppermost in their minds when plotting out their novel.