Exposition is the part that holds stories together, the bit that introduces information the reader needs to know to understand the plot. It’s the detail that cannot be contained within dialogue or action. Exposition is why a story makes sense.
Context is everything in stories and in life. In the last blog, we explored the relationship between context and complication. This time, we’re going to examine the ways to establish context within your story.
There are two ways in which context affects story—the context of the plot (or event, in the case of nonfiction) and the context of character.
Context is the foundation for everything. It colors perception and fact. It changes minds and tugs on emotion. Without context, a story is nothing more than an anecdote floating in space.
Context provides the background, backstory, setting and structure that holds the details of a story together and gives the reader the framework necessary to understand. Without this, the reader cannot know how to feel.
Show versus Tell is an age old battle for writers. Deciding when to show your world to your readers and when to tell them facts is a balancing act. Good writing requires both styles. In the last blog, we covered when to tell. This blog focuses on showing—the powerhouse of writing.
Showing gives your reader a more immersive experience. It’s the difference between reading a newspaper article and a novel. One gives the facts with a sprinkling of details and description. The other invites the reader to experience the story along with the character. It’s engaging.
Every writer has learned the first rule of writing: “Show don’t tell.” It is the preeminent bit of advice for writers of all levels and yet it remains one of the most misunderstood and confusing rules. Sure, it’s easy to understand why you shouldn’t tell your story from start to end like a person at the party who keeps saying, “…and then we…” with no end to the boredom. But it is not so easy to figure out what telling is versus showing. Sometimes they seem a lot alike. It all depends on how you write. The truth is good writing combines both showing and telling.
There are moments in a dance that instantly distinguishes a great dancer from a mediocre one. It’s the same type of moment that differentiates a choppy film from one that sweeps you away.
I’m talking about transitions. Those tiny moments between movements and scenes. The seconds hidden in the in-between spaces. A great dancer will use those transitions to make the dance flow seamlessly. A filmmaker uses transitions to hide cuts and let the story feel whole.
Writing is more than a collection of words strewn across the page. It has life and voice. We hear it when we read to ourselves. It speaks to us and takes on a life of its own depending on the author.
The voice of a story is what makes it come alive in the reading and it is the most important skill a writer can have. It’s what sets one writer apart from another—a Hemingway (short, short sentences) versus a Faulkner (who goes on and on), a Gaiman from a Melville. These are not the same voices. They sound different in our heads. The way these authors string words and sentences together creates different rhythms and cadences as we read along. They pull at us differently.
Below are a few examples of voice in writing. The first example is from one of my favorite authors.