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Theme and Irony Working Together

This week I read two articles that touch on two different concepts; however, both articles offer guidance on how to trim and focus my work in progress.

In the March issue of The Writer, author Terry Bain* discusses a step by step approach to finding the theme in your story. He mirrors my past (green writer) inclinations, when he says he thought his stories were finished and ready for publication, because they sounded good. For me, I always thought a story that flowed well and told a good tale was good enough. But, like Terry Bain, no one was falling over anyone else to publish my early works.

Terry Bain suggests, maybe those stories were missing a central focus, a theme. He says a writer can start a story with a theme in mind, but the writer may do better to let the story unfold and discover the theme later.

I’m a writer; I know about theme. But, it is a piece of the puzzle I tend to ignore. Typically, theme isn’t the spark that ignites my stories (except if I’m writing on Wednesdays), but it is one concept I should hold onto right now as I rework my novel.

Theme is not to be confused with plot, which moves a story forward. Terry Bain says, theme can “shine [a] flashlight on some aspect of life.” A theme doesn’t give the reader answers to world-wide problems, but it does provide another way for the reader to connect with the story.

He also says, “…knowing your theme…helps you make key decisions about what to keep and what not to keep,” and he offers some questions and suggestions to help an author clarify the theme and refine the story:

  • “Do the characters’ actions imply any universal truths?”
  • “What made you write this story in the first place?”
  • “Watch for repeated words or images. Or words and passages that strike you as particularly poignant.”
  • “Try to simplify your ideas into a few simple words.”

His last suggestion leads me straight into the next great article I read this week on The Sharp Angle.

Lydia Sharp wrote a post on Irony that complements much of what I read from Terry Bain. Lydia Sharp, however, suggests finding focus in your story via a one sentence pitch, a sentence that incorporates irony.

“[I]rony,” she says, “is a writer’s best friend.” If a well-crafted sentence contains irony, the writer can reveal the complete story and hook the reader at the same time. And, that well-crafted sentence becomes crucial when the author approaches an agent.

“The irony shows the potential for an engaging story, no matter what the story is about. Without that clear potential, good luck finding someone to take an interest in your work, let alone represent it or publish it.”

I’m not ready to pitch my story. But, I want this rewrite to move along with a little more ease. Theme and Irony might be two key concepts to keep in my mind’s forefront.

If you haven’t read Terry Bain’s article, pick it up. And, if you haven’t seen Lydia Sharp’s post, click on over. I’d love to know your thoughts and hear about your experiences. Do you start your stories with a theme and a one-sentence pitch? Or do you write the story first, then flesh out the point?

________________

* Bain, Terry. “Theme is What Unifies Your Story.” The Writer. Mar. 2010: 21-23, 55 . Print.

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I cannot tell a lie, most of the time.

There are only two reasons to wake up early on the Wednesday after Mother Nature dumps a foot of snow in your city: you have to shovel the drive, or you can’t wait to check out the word of the day.

My husband purchased a (monster) snow blower several years ago, so a buried driveway doesn’t stir me from slumber. But, the word of the day…now, that’s excitement!

Today’s word on Wordsmith.org:

pervaricate. verb intr. to avoid telling the truth by being ambiguous, evading, or misleading.

Let’s get right down to some flash fiction business.

****

Ellen had been driving Gary crazy for the past three weeks.

Her desk sat in front and to the left of his, and every time he picked up his coffee for a drink, he saw her rolling her head.

Left.
Right.
A long, slow roll to the left again.
And, hold…back to center.

On that particular Wednesday, Ellen wore a shirt with a collar that rested three inches out from the base of her neck. With her left hand, she pulled her auburn hair around to fall over her left shoulder. The right side of her bare, sand colored, smooth neck – the side facing Gary – shimmered, open and vulnerable.

He sipped. She rolled. He shuffled papers, and sipped again. The last, long roll forced Gary out of his chair. He walked over and stood at the front of her desk. And, he waited, while she rolled back to center.

“Oh! Geez, Gary, you scared me.”

He cut right to the point. “I studied Chiropractics.”

“What’s that you said?” Ellen ran her hand down the right side of her neck.

“I know the ins and outs of the neck like you know that iPhone.”

They both glanced over at the iPhone. It flashed, with a new message of some sort, Gary could only guess.

Ellen turned back to Gary. “You’re a chiropractor? So, why are you working here?”

“There wasn’t much money in my field.”

“Really.” Ellen’s face showed doubt.

Gary started to sweat.

“Your right side bothers you.”

“Yeah,” she said. “This awful kink in my neck refuses to go away, since, like –”

“Three weeks?” he finished.

“About.” She squinted.

“I see it all the time. I studied Chiropractics. I can fix it.”

“You can fix it?”

“Your neck.” His heart raced.

Ellen paused, but then agreed to stand up. She let Gary take her head and neck gently in his hands. Her hair fell around his fingers as he guided her head through another set of rolls. Then, he put his right hand on her chin, and his left around the back of her head. He twisted and snapped.

What followed was a sucession of pops and cracks.
Then, a scream.
A punch.
A gasp.

After the commotion, Barbara walked into the office and found Ellen holding the back of her neck with both hands. Gary sucked in air as he slumped over with his hands at his stomach.

Barbara sighed. “Playing Chiropractor again, Gary?”

“Playing?” Ellen looked up and muttered several obscenities.

“Ellen, you’re still new here,” Barbara said. “I should have told you this from day one. There are three things you need to know about Gary: coffee hound, neck fiend, full of shit.”

“I know Chiropractics,” Gary groaned.

Barbara rolled her eyes. “Oh. And, Ellen. If he ever mentions podiatry, keep your shoes on.”

Barbara turned to leave but looked back once more.

“By the way, I’m going for coffee. Anybody want a cup?”

“Hazelnut,” Gary grumbled, as he wobbled back to his desk.

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The Driving Force

About every other day, I open up my novel manuscript, tinker away on my laptop and try to mold “draft one” into a much better “draft two.”

The rewrite has been slow. On the days I ignore it, I wonder if my refusal to open the file reflects my lack of faith in the story or my lack of faith in my writing.

Some days it’s the story, other days it’s my writing, on a bad day it’s both.

Recently, however, I sat down with my ego and explained in no uncertain terms that finishing the novel can be as rewarding as having it published. Amazing things happen when you let go of expectations. The story starts to flow again. I wrote over 1,400 words today, finished chapter three, and rekindled my love for the characters.

In between rewrites this week, I published a post that I consider an exercise in character development – the main character in my novel, not my personal character (unless you count that chat with my ego as “development”). I also found a great article on character-driven stories versus plot-driven stories, something I understood but needed to see again more clearly.

Elana Johnson breaks down plot versus character in an essay she posted on QueryTracker.net (you can read her post here). She says, “[t]he main focus in a plot-driven novel [is]: get out of danger. Stay alive. Accomplish something.” In a character-driven story, the protagonist – how she sees the world or how her perceptions change – is more important than the action:

“In a character-driven story, the author builds the plot around the character.”

Both character and plot interact, but one of them takes the lead. Elana Johnson ends with several questions to help determine which one the writer puts first. Question number one speaks directly to me:

“What is the force propelling your story from beginning to end? Is it the characters or what they’re going through?”

My answer to that question (the characters) sealed my understanding about the story I am writing. And, I learned that even if my fingers aren’t typing in draft changes, I am still developing the story: every article I read on the craft of writing adds meaning to my work in progress.