Book as Experience--Week 3: Space, Part 2

Today's Topic: Space (Part 2: Perspective)

In design, there are two basic approaches to representing an object in three dimensions: isometric perspective and vanishing point perspective. While objects appear "3D" regardless of which perspective we use, there is one key difference between the two approaches.

In isometric perspective, size remains constant regardless of how near or far away an object is. This type of perspective is especially useful in drafting, where measurements and distances must be precise. Below is an example of a cube shown in isometric perspective. Notice that while our eyes recognize it as a cube (all sides are equal in size=the definition of a cube), the three-dimensionality looks a little "off."

In vanishing point perspective, on the other hand, objects appear smaller if they are farther away. Look at the cube in vanishing point perspective below. Notice how the sides of the cube appear to be different sizes, the closer they are to the vanishing points, yet our eye still reads the cube as a cube (i.e. we perceive all the sides to be equal size). In fact, this perspective appears more "real" to us than does the isometric perspective, where sizes remain constant.

How does this concept translate to writing? Three words: Point of View (POV).

Writers talk a lot about POV. There are tons of fancy labels you can memorize: first-person peripheral, third-person limited, omniscient, objective... the list is endless. Books on writing dedicate entire chapters to defining and understanding all these categories.

Thing is, when we get hung up on 1st-person versus 3rd-person, omniscient versus limited, it's like we're looking at the world of our story in isometric perspective. Sure, it looks 3D but there's something rigid about that doesn't feel quite right. This is where Narrative Distance comes in.

Narrative Distance (or Psychic Distance, as John Gardner called it in The Art of Fiction) is "the distance the reader feels between himself and the events in the story." Gardener uses the following examples of third-person narrations with varying levels of distance.

1. It was winter of the year 1853. A large man stepped out of a doorway.
2. Henry J. Warburton had never much cared for snowstorms.
3. Henry hated snowstorms.
4. God, how he hated these damn snowstorms.

Narrative distance is the lens that allows the author to zoom in or out of the story. Of course, drastic changes in narrative distance can feel jarring to the reader (think back to our Tension = Expectations Theorem). But there is some wiggle room within point of view, and it's our job as writers to understand it and make it work for us.

Zoom Lens Exercise (inspired by an exercise from Now Write! Ed. by Sherry Ellis): Select a short section of narration from your current project (2-3 paragraphs should do the trick). Now rewrite it three times, keeping it always in third person. The first time, zoom in so close, you can practically see your protagonist's pores and skin cells. The second time, zoom out and give us a bird's-eye view of the protagonist and her world. Finally, choose a middle ground between these two extremes.

[Note: if you want to make it really challenging for yourself, try doing this in 1st person. I would advise against trying this exercise in 2nd person, unless you feel like giving yourself a migraine.]

Questions to Consider:

• What kind of information does the reader have access to when you're in birds-eye-view mode? What about in pores-and-skin-cells mode?
• Which of the three variations in narrative distance did you find most challenging? Which came easiest?
• Who's telling the story in each of the 3 versions? Who's the audience? Do either of these things change as narrative distance changes? Why or why not?

Let's add one last wrinkle to this whole mess. Up until now, we've been talking about how we, as authors, portray the events in our stories and pull the reader into the story. There is, however, one more layer we're forgetting: the POV character. The information that the readers get from the story is not only affected by the narrative distance, but also by the characters themselves. If a character is narrating the story, the reader will only get information that the character reveals (regardless of the psychic distance). In this way, the reader's understanding of the story is shaped not only by how the author manipulates narrative distance but also by the characters' intentions.

Axiom #3: If POV is the telescope through which we view a story, narrative distance is the lens that pulls the image into focus.

Book as Experience--Week 2: Space, Part 1

Every so often I wake up in the morning with math on the brain. Today was one of those days so I decided to start my post with a theorem.

Gabi's Tension-Expectation Theorem: Tension = Expectations

When we write, we establish patterns for the reader. These patterns--if repeated enough times--will raise the reader's expectations. When we raise expectations but then turn around and give the reader something she wasn't expecting, we create tension.

And Here's a Corollary: There are no accidents in writing. If you're going to create tension, do it with intent.

This Theorem will come up again and again as we look at "Book as Experience." The writing techniques we will discuss are all tools we can use to raise the reader's expectations, and break these expectations if we so choose.

Which brings us to our first technique...

Today's Topic: Space (Part 1: Positive and Negative Space)

In design, we talk about positive space and negative space. These are not value judgments; positive space does not mean space that it is "good" and negative space does not mean "bad" space. Rather, positive and negative space refer to the space occupied by an object versus the space around the object.

Positive Space: This is the space occupied by the object.

Negative Space: The space around an object. Note that by looking at the space around the object, you can gain information about the object itself.

A great example of positive and negative space at play, of course, is the faces/vase picture (shown below). Do you see two white silhouettes on a black background or a black vase in front of a white background? It all depends on which object is the positive space and which is negative space. Notice also that it is virtually impossible to see both as positive space at the same time. In order to see the vase, you have to let the faces disappear into the background, and to see the faces, the vase must become negative space.

At this point, you're probably thinking: "Thanks for the design lesson, Gabi, but can we get to the writing now?" Here's the thing: whenever we write a story, we have to take positive and negative space into account. Think of the positive space as the space occupied by the story; this means the negative space encompasses all the other "stuff" that never makes it into the story proper. As writers, we need to be ever conscious about the interplay between positive and negative "story space," making active decisions as to what we will include and what we will leave out.

Axiom #2: Negative space can tell you as much about your story as does positive space.

Rosencrantz-&-Guildenstern-Are-Dead Exercise: (A study in positive and negative space)Select a minor character from your story. It doesn't matter which character it is, as long as it is not the POV character. Follow this character "off stage" and write a short scene (2-3 pages). The idea here is to examine the negative space around your story with an eye to better understanding the story itself.

As for the Theorem from the beginning of this post, when we write a piece, we establish rules for the reader regarding the positive and negative space of the story. If, however, we flip the positive and negative space, this creates tension for the reader. If we pull this swap artfully, we can create conflict and increase the reader's interest, but if we are not careful this type of switch can confuse the reader and be disastrous to our story.

The key is to understand how positive and negative space work and make them work for you.

Book as Experience--Week 1: Devices

Today's Topic: Devices. Literary devices are perhaps one of the easiest ways to superimpose an experience on a book or story. Using a non-traditional format (diary, play, screenplay, letters, journalism, etc.) the author can alter how the reader interacts with the story.

Exercise: Select a character, situation and prop at random (or using our handy-dandy booklet). Write a 1-2 page piece in a nontraditional format, using a literary device of your choice. Literary devices can include (but are not limited to) poetry, epistolary form (letters), journal/diary format, song lyrics, play or screenplay, an interview, etc.

Questions to Consider:

• How does the author create a unique reading/listening experience for the reader/audience?
• What is this experience?
  
• How does the literary device play a role in creating this experience?
• How does this piece redefine what it means to “read”?
• Does the format of the piece force the reader/listener to adopt a particular role in relationship to the text? (Audience, voyeur, investigator, etc?) If so, what is this role?

Axiom #1: Stories are not just written or told, they are designed.

Book as Experience--Introduction

First off, my apologies to my readers for my lack of posting these past few weeks. It's been a hectic two weeks and unfortunately the blog--along with my other writing projects--had to go on hold for a little while.

But now down to business. This week I began a mini-lecture series for my writing group. This lecture series sprung out of a term paper I wrote last semester on the idea of Book as Experience. I've designed several different mini-lessons, along with companion writing exercises that illustrate them. As my group meets weekly on Tuesdays, I will be posting my lesson notes on the blog after our meetings.

Today I kick off this sequence of posts. Check in every Tuesday for a new post and writing exercises.