To Absent Friends
By Dave King | January 22, 2020 |
Within the last week, I’ve had two clients with the same problem, a sign that I’ve found a good topic for an article. (They’ve given me permission to use them as examples – thanks, guys.) What was tripping them up was that they both had to keep the focus on a key character when there was no easy way to put that character on stage.
One of the manuscripts is a historical novel set in the early 14th century and centered on two women. One is Margaret, a noblewoman who’s left in charge of her husband’s castle when he rebels against King Edward II. The other is Edward’s queen, Isabella. For reasons I can’t get into now, the castle is besieged by Edward, and Margaret is captured and sent to the Tower of London with her children. Isabella is put in charge of her captivity. For much of the book, we watch Margaret struggle to keep herself and her children sane and to gain her freedom, with few glimpses of Isabella. But late in the story, Edward summons Isabella north, then essentially abandons her. She is nearly captured by Robert the Bruce, almost dies while escaping, and finds that Margaret’s capture was part of a scheme Edward was running behind her back.
The natural structure of the story is the parallel between the two women, who start off with a serious imbalance of power and eventually grow to see that both are under the control of narcissistic husbands with little leeway to determine their own fates. The problem is that, when Margaret is in the Tower, there is little reason to include scenes from Isabella’s point of view, and when Isabella leaves London, Margaret can do little in the Tower except wait for her to return. Readers don’t really have a feeling for who Isabella is before she leaves, and they lose track of Margaret when caught up in Isabella’s adventures. (Incidentally, after the events of the story, the real-life Isabella has Edward assassinated.)
The other novel centers on Sarah, a thirteen-year-old in the south in the mid-1950’s. After her stepfather forces her mother to abandon her and move away with him, she has to take care of her two younger brothers on her own. When the three are eventually put in an abusive foster home, Sarah engineers their escape, and they ride the rails to St. Louis looking for their mother. The climax of the story is the exposure and trial of the abusive foster father.
The problem here is that the story naturally proceeds through various fairly discrete episodes – the kids on their own, in the foster home, going to St. Louis, coming back, and the trial. The glue that keeps these various incidents from becoming a series of short stories is how they affect Sarah. She is smart, resourceful, and asked to do a lot more than a thirteen-year-old should be expected to do. But she would not be present for most of the trial, so the character holding the story together has to drop out at the climax.
How do you keep the reader’s focus on a character who cannot easily be on stage? The easiest first step is to take advantage of every opportunity you have to focus on the main characters. Margaret has an audience with Isabella earlier in the story, which I suggested be rewritten from Isabella’s point of view, to give readers a glimpse into her head. I also suggested adding a handful of scenes from Isabella’s perspective at key points in the earlier part of the story. Sarah testifies at the trial – the only scene where she’s present in the courtroom. I edited that scene so as to make her internal struggle more prominent.
But even if you take advantage of your opportunities, those opportunities are still limited. How do you bring key characters into scenes where they can’t actually appear? One way is to write the scenes from the point of view of characters who have the key character’s interests at heart. With Sarah’s story, I recommended that the trial scenes be written from the point of view of a social worker who knows and supports her. As the trial progresses, the social worker was able to be shocked or relieved on Sarah’s behalf. Readers were aware of how events affected Sarah even when Sarah wasn’t there.
You can keep your absent character in your reader’s minds if you make stakes of the scenes clear before the scenes begin. Part of the reason I suggested including earlier scenes of Isabella – particularly the scene showing her judging Margaret – was so readers could see just why Isabella felt the way she did about Margaret. That way, when Isabella goes through her own humiliation and danger because of her feckless, uncaring husband, readers will realize that her experiences are opening her up to mercy toward Margaret. I also suggested that the author include a bit of interior monologue during the escape scenes in which Isabella realizes this as well, to help keep Margaret front and center.
I also edited the scenes from Sarah’s point of view before the trial to show more clearly what she expected and needed from the verdict. This was the moment that validated whether or not she could trust the adults around her. Because readers had a clearer sense of what’s at stake in the trial, they are aware of Sarah’s reaction even in scenes where neither she nor the social worker are present. Sarah’s not in the scene, but it’s still about her.
That’s the key – learning to see what your scenes are actually about. Scenes are more than the characters who take part in them or the tension that happens in them. They have a ripple effect up and down the story, even for characters who aren’t there.
Once again, a reminder. If you’ve run into a particularly tricky problem with your own writing, you’re welcome to ask me for a solution, either in the comments or through email. The answer may show up here.
[coffee]
Dave King has been editing for nearly 40 years now. He is co-author of Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, a former contributing editor to Writer’s Digest, and has contributed more than 100 articles over the last 12 years to Writer Unboxed. He lives on 25 acres in rural Massachusetts with his business partner and wife, Ruth Julian, who also edits his work. His other day job, at least on Sundays, is as the organist at a Lutheran church in Greenfield, Mass.
Aagh! This post reminds me how much I still have to learn about story telling, as opposed to plotting. :) So, learning to see what your scenes are really about is the idea, and so does that mean looking at the emotional impact of the scene on the character in each scene, and then on the larger scale, how each scene affects the character arc of the character?
I appreciate the post additionally because it gives me a glimpse of how many choices writers really have with their characters and scenes, and how just a little adjustment can improve the connection a reader has to the story. Thanks!
You’ve hit a couple of important points, Lara. Everything connects to everything else in fiction, and it all has to work together. This is why it’s dangerous to regard any writing advice as a rule. The best techniques to use depend so much on what you’re trying to do at the moment and the overall shape of your story that you can’t use them by rote.
You need to be aware of various techniques and what they can do. Then you need to put your characters and story in charge and pick the technique that fits them best.
I wrote an article some time about on this very topic. You can read it here (https://www.davekingedits.com/blogarchive/tools.html).
Thank you! I will definitely be stopping by to take a look!
Here you’ve shown us two clear examples of the depth to which we as writers must plunge in developing characters from the situations in which we’ve chosen to place them. I often reach a crossroads such as these that forces me to step back from plot to attend character.
Your examples show how critical it is to consult a developmental editor when this situation arises. The solution to the dilemma may be simple in execution, but difficult to perceive from the author’s immersive standpoint. Great post, very enlightening.
I’m glad you like the post, and thanks for the shoutout to independent editors. It’s not just that we can look at your manuscript from the outside (although, yes, it is that). We are also familiar with a wide variety of techniques and how they can dovetail together. We may be able to point you to the technique you need to accomplish what you’re trying to do.
Oh man, the absent character issue is at the heart of my WIP. It’s about a boy whose heart is broken when his girlfriend–who can see the future but is hunted by an ageless being–disappears for eight years.
The boy moves on in life in every other respect, except in love. The girl is wanted by the FBI (though she is innocent) for arson and murder. For that reason she’s underground and out of touch. Communicating with the boy would put him in legal jeopardy, but she has told him they will meet again.
So, the story presents a couple of challenges. One, explain why he can’t let go of her. Two, keep the love story active even though she’s absent–for eight years! Your post today goes right to that second challenge.
And, in fact, I’m handling it in ways you suggest, particularly in the use of what I think of as “proxy characters”, in this case a group of eccentric friends who take a keen interest in the boy’s story and are fascinated by his account of the girl. Can her precognition possibly be real? When finally he goes on the road to follow her, the friends become his backup and support team.
On the road, the boy (now young man) discovers a world of psychic girls who are exploited and trafficked. His girlfriend has been rescuing them. To them, she is a hero. However, both the FBI and the ageless being still search for her. He learns about her from those whose lives she has touched, and falls even more deeply in love.
One thing I’ve learned in this project is that speculating and musing by the MC–where is she, what is she doing?–is the dullest way to keep the absent girl active. My MC’s focus instead is on himself: Is he an idiot to hang on? Also, the interest of others in the absent character is more interesting than my MC’s pining.
I greatly appreciate your post and your belief that disconnected characters can connect, and that there are ways to keep on offstage character active. I have to believe that too, my WIP depends on it. Thanks!
This does sound like an exciting one. And it sound like you’re right that focusing on how her absence affects him rather than speculating on what happened to her is a more effective way of working her in.
Of course, I haven’t read it, and anything I say should be appropriately salted. But it did occur to me that one way to show her effect on his ability to love would be to show him with another girl and let your readers watch the relationship fall apart because of his memories of the missing girl.
Just a thought.
Good suggestion and that’s exactly what I’ve already done. There is an “alternate girl” sequence , a part of the story I like and find terribly sad. I hope readers do too!
My absent character is very absent—he’s dead. But he left a journal, and he is essential to the narrative: Is he or isn’t he an ancestor of a living character? She is repelled by the very idea. Another character’s career hangs on proving the relationship. Meanwhile, the journal gets passed around among all the present characters, including the villain, and all are affected by it in various ways. Lots to work out here, and I’ll keep these points in mind. Thanks, Don.
This is intriguing. It’s a tricky problem, but it sounds like you’ve got a good approach on it.
A quick question. Are different characters affected in different ways by the same journal passage? It occurs to me that that kind of ambiguity could add an intriguing twist to the narrative.
Oops, so sorry, Dave! *blushing*
Yes, they are affected in different ways by the journal — and I’ll find a good place for them to have widely divergent responses. Thanks again.
Who is present in the scenes concerning the trial where Sarah and the social worker are absent?
I just checked. Most of them are omniscient narrator in the last draft. The next draft will correct that.
Dave, there’s a McKee quote I love and use as a lodestone. It’s from a blog post he wrote some time ago: “One sure test of a story’s power is the answer to this question: If the protagonist does not ultimately get what the protagonist wants, what does she or he stand to lose? In short, what’s the worst possible thing that could happen if the protagonist fails?”
It seems as though your techniques bring the stakes forward for the off-stage main character while personalizing them for the on-stage characters, too. Makes sense. Thank you.
That is a lovely quote. And you’re right, it describes what I’m suggesting.