Writing Young Adult Fiction For Dummies

by Deborah Halverson

  The tauter the story tension, the more rewarding the read.

  Managing Your Subplots

  A great way to add interest to your teen fiction is to work in a subplot or two. Subplots are minor storylines that complement your main plot, adding depth and texture to the overall story. They often involve the main character but not always; they could be subplots of the romantic interest or of a parent or other family member. If you’re not careful, though, subplots can distract both you and your readers. Here are some hints for managing subplots to their maximum benefit:

  Round them out. Subplots should have their own beginnings, middles, and ends, and they must contribute to the main plot in some way.

  K.I.S.S. overcomplicated plots goodbye. As my dad would say, Keep It Simple, Stupid. Don’t get buried in subplots. Giving the main plot some elbow room is fine. In fact, in teen fiction, simplicity is often preferable because you don’t want to overwhelm your young readers any more than you want to overwhelm yourself. Stick to one or two subplots at the most. If that seems like too much to deal with, cut them altogether. You don’t have to have subplots.

  Put the plots on a collision course. Your subplots should dovetail with the main plot by the story’s end. They can parallel the main storyline, closely resembling it or diverging in significant ways in order to highlight the main plot. Sometimes, they may even intersect with the main plot. This approach gives your entire story a sense of cohesiveness.

  Keep your motives pure. Subplots are meant to enhance your main plot, not make up for its flaws. If you find yourself adding more subplots because you’re afraid you don’t have enough happening in your story, stop and examine your main plot. The storyline may not have enough at stake, and maybe your character is just skating along without much challenge. Get tough with her and with yourself. Put bigger obstacles in her way and make the consequences of failure truly unpleasant. That should take care of the problem.

  Give yourself permission to leave a thread hanging. The general rule with subplots is that you must resolve them all by the story’s end, usually in conjunction with the resolution of the main plot. However, you can make an exception to that rule. Leaving something unresolved on purpose is okay. Sometimes life is messy. Sometimes friends don’t make up, and sometimes delinquent dads don’t make good. Sometimes, a subplot can’t be fully resolved.

  What’s important is that your protagonist accepts the situation and walks away from that intentional loose thread with an insight he didn’t have before and an ability to move forward with his life despite the messiness. If he never makes up with his dad, so be it. The resolution of such a subplot may be more abstract, with the main character reaching a state of peace or acceptance with that lack of resolution. Ultimately, this is your protagonist’s story, and your readers’ satisfaction lies in his completed character arc, not his dad’s.

  A subplot can seem to be its own little story but ultimately dovetail with the main storyline in a way that enriches the overall themes. Suppose your main story features a nerdy girl with zero fashion sense who undergoes a transformation with the help of her ultra-hip older sister, who chips in out of sheer embarrassment. Or so readers think. A subplot for that story may involve the sister’s very important relationship with her popular boyfriend — a relationship that comes to a screeching halt at the end of the story when the sister dumps her Mr. Popular because he treated her baby sister cruelly. Thus, it turns out the older sister helped out of love, not embarrassment. She just had a poor way of expressing herself through the process. The story ends with the main character having a more appreciative opinion of her older sister.

  You can use subplots to manipulate your story’s pacing and tension by cutting away from the main story at a juicy moment for a subplot-related scene. That said, wield this tool kindly. Readers can get frustrated if they hit a tense point in the main story but then get put on hold while the author switches to a subplot in order to stretch out the tension. Be thoughtful about how long you’re making the readers wait to find out what comes next. Whenever you’re tempted to employ this technique, ask yourself whether the benefit outweighs the risk.

  Pulling Off Prologues, Flashbacks, and Epilogues

  Prologues, flashbacks, and epilogues are three nifty tricks of the writing trade, but much like Houdini’s legendary escapes, including them in your act introduces an element of danger. Prologue and flashback techniques are related to each other in that they serve the same general purpose: to fill in backstory. All three techniques provide information outside of the main narrative. In this section, I talk about the benefits each one offers and guide you around the potentially hazardous parts.

  Prologues

  A prologue is a kind of story introduction that some books offer readers before they dig into Chapter One. Prologues may set a mood or give necessary context for the fictional world readers are about to enter. They may establish a mystery that compels readers to turn the page in search of the details (details that may not be revealed in full until the final chapter).

  One prologue form that’s especially common in fantasy is the presentation of a legend that somehow informs the main themes and goal of the story. J. R. R. Tolkien’s famous prologue for The Lord of the Rings acts as a bridge for readers, conveying them from the finding of the Ring of Sauron in the book The Hobbit to the Ring’s more complex adventures in Middle-earth, which are the focus of The Lord of the Rings. Prologues aren’t limited to fantasy, though. Historical fiction makes common use of them, too, and they can crop up in just about any genre.

  Don’t confuse a prologue with an epigraph, which is an opening quotation that touches on the story’s main theme but stands complete and separate from it. An epigraph is something for readers to chew on in the back of their brains as they read the story. The epigraph may be a quote, a song lyric, a poem, or just about anything. (See Chapter 12 for info on quoting somebody else’s work.) A prologue isn’t a foreword, either. In a foreword, someone who isn’t the author comments on the book or the story as an entity, perhaps talking about the book’s history or its relevance to culture or to the readers. A preface has the same job as a foreword, only it’s written by the author.

  Pros of prologues

  Prologues are great ways to give readers information that’s essential to understanding the story’s current events but that doesn’t fit into the main telling for some reason. Prologues are also lovely for creating ambiance, which you may try if you want to creep out readers before they venture into a story of things that go bump in the night. When you use a prologue that way, you create a reading experience instead of just delivering info.

  A twist on that approach is to put readers in the know while depriving your main characters of that same information. This strategy creates a juicy disjunction in awareness. Imagine a prologue that gets you all tense about the sinister evil that lurks in the dark basement of an abandoned house, and then you flip the page to Chapter One, where the Smith family pulls up to the house in a suitcase-laden station wagon and Dad proclaims, “Welcome to your new home, Johnny!” As the parents unpack and little Johnny runs excitedly from room to room, they have no idea about the evil seething below their feet — but you do. That’s fun storytelling.

  Cons of prologues

  Here are some of the drawbacks of prologues:

  Delaying the story: The prologue’s position at the book’s front puts it between the reader and the story, and therein lies the danger: It serves as a turnstile that readers must shove through before they can get to Chapter One, which contains the most vital material in the book. You probably planned to hook your readers in Chapter One with revealing action, intriguing characters, and a compelling promise of what lies ahead. But by using a prologue, you force that prologue to do some hooking, which essentially means the reader must start the book twice.

  Encouraging info dumps: You may info-dump in the prologue
, trying to set up the story before it happens. As in, Psst! Hey, reader, let me tell you something about the character before you start. You have plenty of time to slip kids some background info after they come to care about your protagonist and the problems ahead of her. If readers don’t care about her, they won’t give a fig about the things that happened in her past to make her who she is today.

  Frustrating readers: A prologue that shows some undefined evil attacking an undefined person with undefined results can very easily anger readers, who see your obvious withholding of information as manipulative rather than inviting.

  Being skipped: Readers may skip over the prologue altogether and go straight to Chapter One, which nullifies your purpose entirely. You can’t control that, but you do need to understand that it happens, especially with impatient and often reluctant teen readers.

  How to use prologues safely

  Prologues can be very useful, but they can also be huge barriers that keep readers out. You can minimize the risk if you ask yourself why you’re feeling the urge to use a prologue in the first place:

  Are you trying to create a mood? If that’s the case, then sure, use a prologue, but you better grab teens’ attention (follow the principles I cover in Chapter 7). The prologue will be your Line 1, Page 1, Do-or-Die initial contact with readers. The prologue must be entertaining in its own right, and it must propel readers into your first chapter.

  Are you trying to slip some background information to the reader? Hold on to that information for now. You can slip it in after readers start caring about your protagonist and the problems ahead of her. I talk about “sprinkling versus splashing” in Chapter 8 in regard to setting, but the principle is the same for backstory: Splashing backstory onto the page can stop young readers cold. Instead, sprinkle it in those brief narrative pauses during dialogue, sprinkle it in the dialogue itself, and sprinkle it in brief expository snippets here and there. Sprinkling background info in the body of the story should always be your first choice over delivering it in a prologue. If you don’t lure your teen readers into your story right off the bat, it won’t matter if they know the backstory or not.

  Are you trying to tease? This is a tempting reason to use a prologue, but if you withhold too much, your prologue may frustrate readers instead of teasing them into Chapter One. Instead, tell readers exactly where the characters are, who’s there, and why. Withhold nothing but the ultimate outcome of the events in the prologue. That’s plenty of tease.

  Flashbacks

  Flashbacks are scenes that interrupt the current story in order to show past events. Sometimes they explain character motivations and histories. Sometimes they fill readers in on past happenings that directly influence current ones. Sometimes they simply deliver information that can’t be worked into the regular story.

  The most well-known type of flashback is an entire scene of the past, with dialogue and an emotional core that’s exposed using sensory details (more on sensory details in Chapter 8). For the most part, when people talk about flashbacks, they’re referring to this kind. A less-intrusive and thus less-noticeable flashback is the quick reference to events or details from the past, as in the following:

  Thinking of that old car made Mike smile. He could practically smell the polished bench seat now. He and Grampy used to drive it to church every Sunday, just the two of them, no one else. Not Cousin Lucy, not Cousin Joey, not even Grandma Emmajean. Then, after Grampy died, Mom went and sold the car. Mike hadn’t been to church since.

  Pros of flashbacks

  Flashbacks are useful for slowing the pace. They’re also great for revealing emotional elements of a character or for helping characters remember events that bear on the current plot development.

  Cons of flashbacks

  The flip side of slowing down the pace through flashbacks is flat-out disrupting the story. That sabotages any tension or forward momentum you’ve built up. Full-scene flashbacks are particularly susceptible to this risk thanks to their length and depth.

  Flashbacks risk being big backstory dumps, with writers turning to them to fill in gaps of knowledge for readers. Using flashbacks this way is dangerous because not only have you jammed down the brake pedal, but you’ve also thrown the whole car into reverse, sending your readers backward in time and out of the moment you’ve worked so hard to write them into. You may never recover the readers’ emotional investment after such a maneuver.

  How to use flashbacks safely

  A flashback isn’t a tool of convenience; it’s a strategic writing device that must warrant the intrusion. Your flashbacks must offer insight or information that can’t be worked in by other means and that’s necessary to help readers understand what’s happening in the “now” of the story.

  Here are tips on using flashbacks effectively:

  Use flashbacks (especially the full-scene kind) sparingly and with caution. Keep them focused and brief; no running off on tangents. Let flashbacks accomplish their goal in an entertaining or emotionally resonant manner, and then scoot yourself right back to that main story that kept your readers so deeply engaged. The quick reference-style flashback is great for this kind of emotional hit-and-run.

  Give full-scene flashbacks smooth transitions. Signal an upcoming flashback with an item or a sensory memory trigger, such as a smell that sends the character back in time. Or give the flashback its own chapter. Changing the tense is another trick — for example, you may make your flashback present tense when the rest of your story is past tense. Transitions give readers a heads up that something different is coming.

  Clarity is a must. When the flashback actually starts, be clear about the who, what, where, and when of it. You’ve already interrupted the flow of your story; don’t let confusion sneak in like an unwelcome stowaway.

  Save your flashbacks until after Chapter One. Throwing them in right away is often a sign that you’re trying to provide backstory, which is something you should sprinkle into the story only as needed. Don’t give readers a paragraph or two of great scene-setting action and then cut away to a time long ago that explains where the characters are and why they’re here. Stay as firmly in the present as you can.

  Above all, make sure those full-scene flashbacks show instead of tell, which is your frontline defense against info dumps. It’s hard to plunk down a big blob of background information when you have a full scene going on, complete with dialogue and sensory details.

  If you find yourself moving material back and forth between a flashback and a prologue, unsure which makes you happier, that may be a sign that a backstory dump is in progress. Brainstorm other ways to give that character context. Chapter 5 has lots of ideas. You may ultimately decide that a prologue or flashback is the only way to accomplish your goal — hey, it’s a perfectly valid device — but just be sure you’re convinced of that “only.”

  Epilogues

  An epilogue is that extra bit of narrative that’s tacked on to the end of a book, right after the final chapter with its resolution of the final conflict. An epilogue may be a scene, some out-of-time commentary by the narrator, or something entirely different from the main text, such as a poem or a song or a faux news article about the characters or events. Generally, an epilogue provides extra information that furthers what readers knew at the end of the story or makes them question their interpretation of events. Although epilogues aren’t common in young adult fiction, they do show up now and then. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the final book in J. K. Rowling’s famous series, has a famous epilogue.

  Pros of epilogues

  You can use epilogues to throw curveballs at readers, forcing them to question what they thought they knew at the end of the story. That can be wicked fun for both you and your readers. Epilogues can also tie up loose ends or fill readers in on what’s become of the characters after the main events of the story.

  Cons o
f epilogues

  Epilogues can ruin that perfectly good sigh of satisfaction readers get following the plot’s resolution in the final chapter. A perfect plot and character arc leaves readers feeling complete; swooping in with more information may kill that buzz. Knowing the ultimate outcome of an event or a relationship isn’t always desirable.

  How to use epilogues safely

  Here are some tips on using epilogues effectively:

  Ask yourself whether the information you want to include in your epilogue is truly extra or whether you’re actually ending your main story within the epilogue. Resolve your main story within the main story structure instead. That’s what your final chapter is for. The epilogue is bonus material.

  If you do choose to include an epilogue, consider doing something entirely different with it. For example, step out of the main story’s point of view, directly address the reader, or include a poem or news article or something else that makes the epilogue distinct from the story’s narrative style.

  Keep the epilogue short. Although epilogues can be quite long in adult fiction, I recommend brevity for young adult fiction. Don’t go giving readers the idea that something new is beginning. And don’t be caught kicking a dead horse: When your story’s done, it’s done. Let it go.

  Make sure an epilogue is truly warranted. Readers often enjoy wondering what will become of everybody. Do the young lovers live happily ever after after all? Does the aspiring football player go on to become an NFL star? Did the main character really die on that last page, or was he only faking it? Sometimes inquiring minds don’t want to know — they want to linger over the possibilities.

  Chapter 7

  Creating Teen-Driven Action

  In This Chapter

  Opening and closing effectively

  Making and keeping plot promises

  Shaping scenes and chapters with teens in mind