To Flashback or Not to Flashback?

When writers insert a flashback, it's because they need to present information from the past that's relevant to the present.

The problem?

Flashbacks slow down the narrative.

They put the action "on pause."

The desire to know what's happening next is what pushes the reader forward, but a flashback flips this idea, sending the reader straight to the past, or to what happened before the story began.

Therefore, it's safe to say that flashback scenes should be limited. If, as a writer, you're introducing too many flashbacks, you're probably telling the wrong story (or, at least, the wrong part of it), anyway.

Still, there are times when flashbacks are necessary and helpful, so treat every flashback like its own mini-story. Dramatize the events to keep the pace moving.

And remember that a flashback is only as helpful as its location. If the reader doesn't want or need to know the information at the time, then a flashback will only obstruct the story. But if there's no way to proceed without confusing the reader (i.e. she needs this information at this very moment to move forward), then go for it.  

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

You Might Be a Writer If. . . .

You might be a writer if you think about sentences.

I mean, really think about them--what makes them strong, what makes them sing, what they're saying (as well as what they're not saying). . . .

"A beautiful sentence is a beautiful sentence."

-Francine Prose (Reading Like a Writer)

and

". . . if you are even thinking in these terms--that is, if you are even considering what might constitute strong, vigorous, energetic, and clear sentences--you are already far in advance of wherever you were before you were conscious of the sentence as something deserving our deep respect and enraptured attention."

So think about it: the structure, the diction, the pacing, the flow, the subtext.

(Think about 10,000 of these and you might even have a novel.) ;)

There's no rule that says every sentence must dance across the page, but if you can, make it beautiful. The discerning reader will notice. 

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~ 

Every. Single. Word.

If you've followed this blog for any extended period of time, you know how I feel about reading.

Good writers are good readers. 

Why? Because most of our writing skills are picked up through osmosis--by reading and analyzing the works of others. 

That's not to say that good readers are automatically good writers. No--there's still a degree of work involved. 

But to the student of mine who claims to want to be a writer but doesn't enjoy reading, I say: 

I'm sorry. It doesn't quite work that way. 

The competition for publishing contracts is fierce. We need writers who not only read widely and read well, but those who slow down to read every. single. word. on the page. We need the writers who ask themselves why this word and not that one? We need writers who consider the placement of every phrase in the sentence and what it's trying to convey. We need writers who read aloud, listening carefully for the structure and rhythm and cadence--what makes the sentence sing. We need writers who read the authors who make them feel woefully inadequate then work hard to bridge the gap between where they are and where they want to be.

That's the only way this works.

Practicing, putting in the 10,000 hours, learning from both our successes and failures, and READING the works of others: this is how good writers are made. 

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

There's Just No Way. . . .

I've written and deleted a lot of posts/tweets/etc. in the past week. 

Then I decided (as usual) Seth Godin (among many others) has already addressed these ideas better than I ever could.

~:|:~

"There’s just no way to be sure what it feels like. Other people, people in our lives or out of it, people who look like us or don’t. Your mileage will vary, your experience will be different. Some started with a huge head start, some with a disadvantage they couldn’t possibly deserve. 

Of course, the “I” is really we. No matter who we are, we can’t truly know what it feels like for someone else. 

It may be that we can’t imagine what it’s like to be the victim of systemic distrust and profiling. Or what it’s like to worry about putting food on this table for that family. Or what it’s like to be fighting a chronic illness or being unjustly accused of a crime. 

We can try. We assume it’s just like what happened to us, but slightly different. We can realize that tragedy is unevenly distributed and in constant rotation, but it’s never going to be the same. 

But just because we can’t imagine–it doesn’t mean we can’t care. We can refuse to magnify our differences and focus on maximizing possibility, justice and connection instead. To take action and to dig in. 

The leverage we have to see, to speak up and to create long-term change is a difficult weight to carry. Because if we can do something to make things more just, that means that we must. 

I wish I was better at it. I wish it were easier. 

We’ll make things better by seeing, by speaking, by doing the work. Even if it’s uncomfortable, especially when it is.

--Seth Godin