HOLDING OFF
World building is fun. So is creating character histories. The more you think about them, the more ideas you get, and the more elaborate the world and people become. And since you've put so much time and effort into the material, there's a completely understandable desire to put it all in. After all, it's interesting, it's fun, and it's informative.
Another temptation is to explain the entire world or character at once. Put it all in front of the reader and get it over with. If it's well written, people will read it just fine, yeah?
The fact is, you can hold off. In fact, you probably should. Your reader doesn't need to know everything up front, or even ever. Lots of your wellcrafted world building and character histories will never show up in the book. Every author has pages of notes that never make it into the final book, and you will, too. Also, always remember that exposition slows the story down, no matter how well written it is. Ask yourself if the reader really needs to know a particular fact. If not, try holding off on it. You'll probably have a cleaner, faster read.
FLASHING BACK
You can also pop back in time to let your reader in on what came before.
This is called a flashback. Flashbacks can run short or long, depending on how much information you need to convey, and they're very handy — they let you start in the middle of some action and then back up a little once you've gotten the reader's attention. In a paranormal novel, flashbacks become an extremely handy tool for handling the extra amounts of exposition these books oft en require. However, you can't just drop a flashback into any old scene. It has to be set up properly.
THE LEAD-IN
Something needs to trigger a flashback, create a reason for it to appear.
Otherwise its appearance is abrupt and obvious. You want to lead readers gently into a flashback so they barely notice what's going on. The character might see or remember something that sends his mind back to an earlier event. Or another character might mention something that triggers the flashback. Or whatever's currently happening to the character might start the flashback.
J.K. Rowling needs to show us some of eleven-year-old Harry Potter's history with his dreadful aunt and uncle in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, and she leads carefully into the flashback. The Dursleys are planning a trip to the zoo for Harry's cousin Dudley's birthday, and they're forced to take Harry with them. Uncle Vernon isn't happy about this.
“I'm not going to do anything,” said Harry, “honestly …”
But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.
The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.
From there, Rowling starts a series of flashbacks about Harry's odd childhood. She uses the current event — a trip to the zoo — as a trigger to set the whole thing in motion. And incidentally, she gets double duty out of this transition — it also lets us know that something's supernaturally strange about Harry.
SHORT FLASHBACKS
Short flashbacks are no more than a paragraph long and are meant to give the reader a little burst of backstory. If you're writing in past tense, short flashbacks are written in the past-perfect tense. This means you use the helping verb had and add the past tense of the main verb, as in had killed, had written, or had hit. Switch back to regular past tense to signal the reader that the flashback has ended. To continue with Rowling's example above, she writes when the lead-in is done:
Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs …. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.
The verbs are all in past-perfect tense for this one-paragraph flashback. Rowling adds two other brief flashbacks, and then comes out of them with a new paragraph that starts, “But today nothing was to go wrong.”The phrase But today leads us out of the past into the present, and the verb was (instead of had been) confirms the move.
LONGER FLASHBACKS
Sometimes you might need to drop in a longer flashback, one that tells a story complete with dialogue and descriptions. They're helpful for introducing characters and explaining intricate or complicated story lines.
Putting an entire extended section into past-perfect tense, however, makes for clunky, awkward reading, and you don't want to go that route. Instead, you lead the reader in with past-perfect tense and switch to normal past tense for the rest of the flashback. At the end of the flashback, you give the reader one or two more past-perfect sentences, and gracefully slip back into the present.
Brandon Mull does this at the beginning of Fablehaven. While riding in the family car, Kendra continues to remember her grandparents' funeral and Grandpa Sorenson's presence there:
It had been more than eighteen months since either of the Sorensons had visited. [Grandpa Sorenson] had apologized that his wife could not attend because she was feeling ill. There always seemed to be an excuse. Sometimes Kendra wondered if they were secretly divorced.
Toward the end of the wake, Kendra overheard Mom cajoling Grandpa Sorenson to watch the kids. They were in a hallway around the corner from the viewing area.
The flashback starts in past-perfect tense (had been and had visited), then shifts to regular past tense. (Notice also Kendra's reactions to the memory. Her musing about a secret divorce makes the scene more interesting — and tells us something about the way Kendra thinks.)
From there, Mull goes into a full page of flashback, complete with the dialogue between Grandpa Sorenson and Kendra's mother. Like the second paragraph above, it's all in past tense. When the scene nears its end, Mull writes:
Kendra moved away from the hall at that point. She had quietly worried about staying with Grandpa Sorenson ever since.
Notice the first sentence uses past tense (moved), but the second sentence, which moves us out of the flashback, uses past perfect (had worried). After that, Mull returns to the main story in its usual past tense.
A SPECIAL CASE
If you're writing in present tense, flashbacks are done a tiny bit differently. In a past-tense book, the reader is in the present, the book is in the past, and flashbacks are in the distant past (before the events of the novel). However, if you set your book in present tense, you've moved everything forward one step. Your book is in the present with the reader, which puts flashbacks in the more recent past. That means your flashbacks will be in past tense.
Such flashbacks are handled with the same pattern as their past-perfect counterparts. You start with a lead-in written in your normal present tense, then switch to past tense for the flashback.
A FINAL FLASHBACK WORD
Avoid early flashbacks. New authors oft en try to start in media res with a single sentence of action — good idea — then ruin it by resorting to a flashback — bad idea — as in “Melissa faced the werewolf in the misty alley. She couldn't believe it had come to this. Just ten minutes ago she had been walking home with her boyfriend Zack. He had been joking about the eerie mist and how any second a werewolf would probably ambush them.” A decent opening hook is sidetracked and ruined by a scene-slowing flashback. If the information in an early flashback is truly necessary, you probably started the scene too late. In the example above, it might be better to start with Melissa's boyfriend making a joke about the eerie mist (though better just to dump the information altogether — that werewolf is dying to attack).
FIGHTING
Paranormal books are given to fights. The idea of a fictional fight is nothing new, but in a paranormal book, things can get a little more complicated. The list of weapons is longer, for one thing, and the outcomes more varied. Writing for a fight also differs from writing for other types of scenes. All o
f this makes fights worth examining here.
GETTING INTO A FIGHT
Since paranormal books range across time and space, you might find yourself writing a fight that involves fist and feet, tooth and claw, guns of any sort, or a host of medieval death options such as knives, swords, staves, pole arms, hammers — and this doesn't begin to touch the weapons found in non-European cultures. Humans are very inventive at finding ways to injure and kill one another.
Assuming you aren't already an expert in violence, this means you have to do your research again. Among your readers will inevitably be a bunch of experts in using whatever weapon you decide to hand your protagonist, and you don't want to look foolish. You aren't alone. Shakespeare included a number of sword fights in his plays, but most of his audience knew how to use these weapons. This required the actors at the Globe to know proper Elizabethan sword work because any unrealistic moves would instantly stand out — and Elizabethan audiences thought it sporting to throw half-finished food at anything resembling bad acting. Your readers aren't likely to fling rotten oysters at you, but you don't want to let avoidable mistakes creep into your writing, either.
A BIT MORE ON RESEARCH
Although we already talked about research in chapter four, this particular area is specific enough to require its own discussion.
Several resources present themselves when you need to do research into combat. Books and the Internet are useful for looking up any number of weapons and combat techniques, of course, but the printed word isn't all that great for getting across how a joint lock works, say, or the way a pistol really feels when you fire it. Too many new authors rely on movies for this, and that's always a mistake — Hollywood is more concerned with what looks good than with accuracy, and a number of movie tricks have mistakenly made their way into polite society as a result. (Bullets, for example, don't spark when they glance off metal, and punches don't make a pshh! noise when they land.)
A number of online video sites have instructional videos on how to fight hand-to-hand and with various weapons. Another great place to ask is at a local martial arts school. Just walk in and introduce yourself using the rules in chapter four for interviews. You'll find quite a number of people willing to show you how fights really work — both teachers and students. (You may recognize the voice of experience here.) Martial arts schools will also have weapons instructors who may talk to you, but they'll oft en be limited to one type or style. However, if you need to talk to someone about fencing or broadsword work instead of short staff and katana, a martial arts instructor may know of someone in your area you can talk to, so they can be a good starting point.
Another good group to contact is the Society for Creative Anachronisms, or SCA. They're dedicated to the study and re-creation of certain aspects of medieval culture, including combat. If your town has a renaissance fair or similar festival, you can bet the SCA will show up. Local chapters are also readily findable online, ironic as that may seem. Most SCA members will happily give you information, tips, and even demonstrations on armed and unarmed combat — or other aspects of medieval culture that might creep into your book.
One time, I had the good fortune to join a group of writers who had persuaded a group of SCA folk to give us a daylong demonstration of several types of fighting, both medieval and modern. These guys were experts — many were former military. We were treated to a completely free set of workshops on knife fighting, using swords of many sizes, axe throwing, how to ambush and assassinate someone in a dark alley, and more ways to deal death than I knew existed. It was wonderful — and it came about simply because one of my friends asked if they'd be willing. The resources are oft en there if you're willing to speak up.
Some paranormal books involve hand-to-claw or hand-to-fang combat. On the one hand, this is a little trickier — you have no true frame of reference for how a normal human would fight a half-human, clawed, and fanged werewolf. On the other hand, this makes it more fun — you can experiment with your combat to see what works. Here again, a local martial arts studio can be a good resource, since experts in hand-to-hand combat have a better shot at extrapolating a realistic fighting style. It's also worth watching videos of normal animals. If you're writing about werewolves, look up shows on wolves. If you need information about claws, check out shows about tigers and panthers. Watching the original animal in action will give you ideas on how the animal moves, too, lending yet more verisimilitude to your fiction.
When it comes to local information about pistols, no one beats the police. They have to stay well informed about all kinds of armed combat — it's a survival thing. Some local law enforcement agencies also offer courses in civilian gun safety, and if your novel is going to include a significant amount of pistol play, you may find it worthwhile to enroll. Finally, modern-day supernatural protagonists may well run into the police in your book, and it's not a bad idea to know correct police procedures. (Cop shows on television almost never have it right — Hollywood strikes again.) If you want to find out about either police procedures or weapons safety, call up your local police agency and ask to speak to the public relations officer. It's that person's job to answer questions like yours, and he's glad to do it, especially if it means someone out there will get procedures right. Sure, you have a good imagination, but only a police officer knows how a cop would really react if confronted with a giant wolf, girl with fangs, or other threat that didn't fit the books.
STAGING FIGHTS
Deciding who stands where and moves in what way is called blocking. Blocking out a fight can be fun and challenging at the same time. Some people are good at doing it in their heads, but others (like me) aren't so talented, especially when more than two or three people are involved.
To help visualize how a particular fight would work, get two or three good friends to be stand-ins so you can see how things will work. (My sons love doing this.) You can also use those little lead figures for gaming to see who stands where, or, in a pinch, sketch out a little map on a piece of paper like theater directors do. Moving the fight from your head to a more physical location helps not only to make the combat more realistic, but can also give you ideas you hadn't thought of before. It also helps point out impossibilities — characters who couldn't reach that far or who can't be in a certain place by the time a fight ends.
FIGHT PROSE
Something else that Hollywood gets wrong — fights go fast. They start fast and they end fast. A fight that lasts more than thirty seconds is considered long. I hold a second-degree green belt in karate, so I have a certain amount of firsthand experience here. This was reinforced when I attended that SCA workshop — the ambush technique they demonstrated took down the victim in less than three seconds. Fights are also the epitome of an action scene. Quick, snappy pacing is what you need, and along with it, you need quick, snappy prose.
Your writing style may run gothic or flowery or downright poetic. But when the fight starts, a lot of those stylistic points need to fade into the background. In a fight — or any other action-based scene — pretty prose is a distraction. The extra words get in the way and slow down what needs to be a fast event.
Take a look at the words oft en used to describe hand-to-hand fights: kick, punch, smack, hit, crack, break, slap, block, strike, slam, dodge, and the list continues. Many of these words are onomatopoeic — they sound like what they mean — and they're a single syllable long. Quick, punchy prose indicates quick, punchy action. Words for sword fights go the same way. Steel blades can ring, clang, slash, thwack, poke, score, and slice. Okay, so parry has two syllables — the pattern remains. Words associated with guns continue in this vein: fire, shoot, bang, crack, and more. All these words have a violent connotation to them, meaning they're well suited to getting the point across. Use them, and be direct.
Fight scenes are usually best done with shorter sentences as well as shorter words. The quick sentence structure indicates quick action. Longer sentences, even if a lot happens, feel like they take up more time
. Look at the difference:
Ben's fist sank into the werewolf's gut, and the air whooshed out of the creature, flooding Ben's nostrils with the stench of foul, long-dead meat. The werewolf recovered quickly, leaping at Ben with bloody claws extended and slashing at the air, barely giving Ben time to duck out of the way. A growl of frustration rumbled in the werewolf's chest as Ben desperately searched the ground for the gun and the precious silver bullets he had dropped moments ago.
An okay fight scene, but it suffers from an abundance of long, clunky sentences. Now try this version:
Ben punched the werewolf in the gut. Air whooshed out of the creature, and Ben smelled rotten meat. The werewolf recovered and leaped. It slashed the air — once, twice. Ben ducked beneath the bloody claws. A frustrated growl rumbled in the werewolf's chest as Ben desperately scanned the ground. Where the hell was the gun?
The shorter words and sentences move the fight along much better.
Within the same novel, fight scenes need a different pacing from “regular” scenes. For example, Ginn Hale uses a fairly florid style in Wicked Gentlemen, as this typical passage demonstrates:
Writing the Paranormal Novel: Techniques and Exercises for Weaving Supernatural Elements Into Your Story. Page 19
