White Room Syndrome

White Room Syndrome.

I'll be honest: this is a relatively new writing term to enter my vocabulary, though when I Googled this idea blog posts came up from more than a decade ago. (Go figure.)

It makes perfect sense, though.

When a scene doesn't include enough description to paint a clear picture in the reader's mind, it's as if the character is standing in a white room--they could be anywhere (floating in space, for all we know). 

With White Room Syndrome there's some action occurring, but the text is mostly dialogue, with zero sense of place.

When we're writing, we have to remember that the reader doesn't know what we know. We might have a clear mental image of our story backdrop, but our reader doesn't. Not until we impart the details. 

So how can we avoid White Room Syndrome? 

Think about where the story is taking place. Think about the time period. Think about the mood you're trying to establish within the reader. 

Then, consider pulling the character out of the setting and freewriting a page of nothing but the physical details of the location. Once this is complete, try to merge the action into the setting, thinking about what your character is seeing and hearing as they act and react. 

When writing, try to use all of your senses. Describe what someone might see, smell, taste, hear, and feel in the scene.

For example, what does the sky smell like on a hot summer day? What does it sound like when you're walking through a forest in the early morning? What does it feel like when you're holding hands with someone you love?

(Here's more on description, and here's a strategy I like to use.)

One caveat: don't overdo it. The reader doesn't need to know every single detail, just what's important to the story. It only takes a few key facts to establish a sense of place and ground the reader. 

White Room Syndrome is something you will likely address in a later draft. When the words are flowing (the dialogue always arrives the quickest for me) just focus on getting them onto the page. You can come back later to flesh out your scenes and descriptions.  

But to avoid "White Room Syndrome," the reader needs to be able to visualize the setting. They need to have that sense of what it might feel like if they were there.

It's the fastest way to a lasting impression. 

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

Writing Descriptions

The dialogue always comes early.

For me, that is.

I always hear the conversations my characters have in my head first and foremost. Writing the in-between--what's happening outside the conversation--has always been a bit harder.

So if you're anything like me and aren't always sure what to include between the conversations in your fiction, here are a few options:

What the character is doing.

Conversations rarely exist in a vacuum. We're most likely conversing while performing other tasks (washing the dishes, walking to work, re-stocking that shelf, etc.), so consider where your characters are and the activity they're engaged in while talking. Give us hints at how the activity is progressing. 

What the character is thinking/feeling. 

We rarely say what we mean. What does your character think about what's being relayed? This is a great place to add some conflict. For instance, maybe your main character agrees to meet with someone at another time, pretending she's okay with this, when she's actually suppressing her disappointment. Give us those inner thoughts. Show us the contrast between her expectations versus reality, or what she's predicting will happen.

What people are doing around them.

What does your character notice about the activities taking place around them? What (or who) is grabbing at their attention? Don't toss random associations into your descriptions--if a character sees something worth mentioning, it should mean something. Still, this is a great way to fill the space between your spoken words.

Backstory.

Is there an important piece of backstory that can be imparted during this conversation? Is there something about the past the character remembers, or a revelation she's having? Since backstory shouldn't be info-dumped into a single location, use conversations as a natural way to intersperse past (relevant) events into the present story.

Location.

Similar to noting what the character sees happening around her, what does the space look like? Are they in a garden or walking along a city street? Working in a kitchen at the back of a restaurant? What are the sights, sounds, and smells associated with this place? Toss in a few specific details to ground your reader within the setting as you move the conversation along.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels

Again, it's worth noting that every description included in a passage should be pertinent or important in some way. 

Also, keep in mind that balance is needed when interspersing these details, especially when they occur in the middle of a conversation. The reader needs enough information to gain a solid image of the time and place, but not so much that it takes over what's being said by the characters.

The perfect melding of description and dialogue, of course, will come with time and practice, so Get Writing. :D 

And always. . . . 

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

Plot Problems

According to Frank O'Connor, a story requires three things.

The first is exposition--who the story is about. The second is development--the inciting incident and what's at stake. The third is drama--what the main character is working toward. 

If any of these three key ideas can't be reduced to a single, clarifying sentence, then you may have a plotting problem.

If there is no clearly defined main character, then the exposition needs work. If there is no inciting incident or disruption of routine, then the development needs more attention. If the drama seems bland or vague, then there's an issue with conflict and motivation. 

If you can summarize these three key ideas in a compelling way, then your story is, in fact, moving in the right direction.

An Example

Exposition: Trent is a troubled young man from a well-to-do family.

Development: He is forced into community service with a girl from the wrong side of the tracks who may have killed her best friend.

Drama: If he can find out the truth about what happened that night, he might be able to prove her innocent.

Plug in the details of your WIP to see if it passes Frank O'Connor's plot test. 

And always: Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

Weather as a Metaphor

If we could sum up the use of weather as a metaphor in a single word. . . .

No.

Don't do it.

As writers, and especially beginning writers, it can be tempting to force the weather to mirror our characters' moods and the situations in which they find themselves.

We have good intentions, of course--it's for effect, to add layers and depth to a scene. 

After all, there's nothing like a sudden thunderstorm to interrupt the throes of outdoor passion. Or a heated argument in the rain (I admit, that's a favorite of mine). Or a perfect spring day to match the kindling of a new love.

And sure, sometimes in real life we fight on dark, wet days. And those afternoon picnics with the ones we love are, in fact, spent beneath a warm sun. But aligning the weather to every situation in our novels is a bit pedestrian.

As humans, we respond to weather. It's also one of the easiest things to describe in a story.

But it's not a perfect metaphor, so use it sparingly as one (if at all).

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

On Silence

Sometimes what a writer doesn't say is as important as what he says.

Just like a musician will let a note hang suspended to create drama and tension in a piece, so can writers use this kind of lull to their advantage. 

Too much information, in fact, can detract from a scene and slow down the pacing of a story to a detrimental degree. 

The antidote to this? 

Silence.

Silence is what ignites the reader's imagination, allowing them to take your story and fill in the empty spaces.

There isn't enough room to cover everything, so it comes down to what needs to be real within the scene and what can be implied. 

Sometimes less really is more.

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~ 

Sweat the Small Stuff

When revealing character, the small details matter. They might matter more, in fact, than the "big" details.

When I first sent ALL I NEVER WANTED to my beta readers, one returned the very first page with a note that changed the way I described my characters:

First and foremost, this is a story of redemption.
But it’s also a love story. A love story that begins with a black eye and a mental health facility, and while that hardly seems the setting for a modern romance, and I’m the last guy anyone would consider a knight in shining armor, trust me when I say I’d suffer a thousand black eyes to meet her again. But before there was the rehab and the fist to the face and the falling for a girl with jagged nails and graphite smudges on her fingertips, there was my dad’s annual holiday party. And it happened like this. . . .

I don't remember how I first described Summer Evans in the prologue, but it leaned toward blonde hair and blue eyes and was, in a word, boring. It was the beta who suggested I re-think how I first presented Summer to the audience. Hair and eyes are great, but those jagged nails and graphite smudges tell a much deeper story, don't you think?

It's the little details that will add life to your story. I could've gone on about how massive Trent's house was, but I zeroed in on the columns--the leaves carved into the capitals--and it really only mattered that Crewe knocked a server's tray out of her hands at their dad's party, but it's more exciting when it's a silver tray of miniature cannoli which scatter, rolling across the marble floor.

The little details aren't so little, then, so don't equate little with unimportant. It's the small things that the reader will remember--that will breathe life into your story.

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~   

The Secret to Showing (Not Telling)--Part Two

In my last post, I talked about one of the secrets to showing (not telling) in your novels. Of course, there's a time and place for telling, so it's not something to avoid completely, but if your prose needs that extra "pop" to draw in readers, not only should you make sure you're writing in the active (not passive) voice, but that you're using precise, vivid words. 

When we're writing a first draft, the goal is to get the story onto paper. Sometimes this means crafting the "skeleton" of a scene. After all, if we focus too much on sentence structure and word choice in a first attempt, we might paralyze ourselves into a corner. 

No one writes a perfect book on the first go-round.

At some point during the revision process, though, we need to look at every sentence--every word--to make sure it's as descriptive as possible. 

Is there a better way to phrase this?

Is there a more descriptive word I can use?

The tendency for beginning writers is to pair adverbs with verbs to strengthen them (i.e. he walked slowly). But why not use a stronger word? "Ambled" might work better here, or "meandered" or "drifted." Each of these words paints a different picture of the person doing the walking and the deeper meaning behind it. 

And not only should we incorporate strong verbs and nouns into our writing (avoiding adverbs as much as we can), but we should also make our descriptions as specific as possible.

It's not just a swing, but a tire swing, fastened to a tree with rope that's dry-rotted from years in the sun and rain. And not just any tree, but a pear tree planted by the couple who built the house more than a hundred years before.

The stronger the details, the more likely you'll keep the reader's attention.

And to ensure those readers aren't going to become lost in extended, flowery prose, keep Strunk and White's advice in mind:

precision, with concision

Meaning: be as specific as possible using the fewest words necessary to tell the story.

And always . . .

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~ 

The Secret to Showing (Not Telling)--Part One

"Show! Don't Tell."

It's one of the most oft-uttered phrases in writing history. I've heard it. I've said it. But what does it actually mean to "show," and how do we know when we're "telling"?

Secret #1 lies in the verbs we use.

"Showing sentences" use the active voice.

"Telling sentences" use the passive voice.

A passive construction often contains the following formula: "to be" + past participle (or the "ed" verb).

For example: 

     The movie has been watched by the friends over a dozen times. (passive construction)

     The painting was completed by Charlotte. (passive construction) 

How could we fix these to make them active? By re-arranging the words so that the person or thing is doing the action (not having the action done to them).

     The friends watched the movie more than a dozen times. (active construction)

     Charlotte completed the painting. (active construction)

How do we locate passive sentences in our writing?

First, we should isolate the sentence. Then, we need to determine what's happening in the sentence and decide if an action is taking place. If so, we need to decide if the action is being done to the person or thing, or if the person/thing is doing the action. If the sentence is passive, then it's just a matter of rearranging the subject and verb. 

Is every "be" or "have" sentence passive? No. It depends on how the verb is being used in the sentence, so don't think every am, is, are, was, were, be, being, been, have, has, had needs to be cut from a manuscript. Some of them are important and even necessary.

Just pay careful attention to the action taking place in your sentence. The more "active" the sentence is, the closer you are to "showing."

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~   

Backfill -- Writing Tip

If your story moves at 100% the entire time--endless drama and action--the reader will likely wear out. It's also unlikely they will be able to keep pace without backstory, or exposition, that explains who these characters are, why they matter, and how they stumbled into the problems they're currently facing.

Exposition, however, does slow down your narrative.

This can be a good thing (it gives us a break from the action) or a bad thing (it can make us put down the book).

Nancy Kress (Beginnings, Middles & Ends) has a Swimming Pool Theory that helps with this:

"The stronger and more forceful your initial kick, the longer you can glide through the water. The stronger and more forceful your opening scene, the less your reader will mind a 'glide' through nondramatized backfill."

The key is balance. 

Give us that kick of action, then let us glide. Give another kick, then glide. . . .

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~