Moving a Story Forward (Page 2 of 2)

I don't think anyone is arguing for using fancy words. The right word doesn't equate to fancy. Mark Twain used the "right" words for his characters and chose them very carefully  --  he did use what some might consider "fancy" words in his writing when called for which was not generally the case in his best known works of Tom and Huck. In any case, I doubt that there are many which would call "paused" a fancy word though it is the one which jump-started this discussion. However you would describe the word (fancy or plain), if it is used in a manner such as a speaker tag where the use defies logic because it could not possibly be spoken -- you can't possibly speak a pause  by definition -- then it just might need to be given a second look.

It should be obvious that one word is not going to make or break a story -- no one is saying such -- but if the wrong words are constantly chosen, a "good story" is most likely not going to be read by a lot of people. Fighting with ill chosen words will dampen the impact of even the best of stories to the point where it just might remain unread. More to the point, there are only so many plots (seven is an often used number though there is jiggle room in both directions) to write a good story about and the way to make our "good story" stand out from the millions of versions of the same storyline is the words we choose to tell that story and the way we put them together. In our own telling, we will hopefully choose words, fancy or not, which is the most appropriate and accurate for the story being told and the characters involved in such story. Every author is certainly entitled to whatever words they so choose regardless of what any reader, editor, publisher, etc. thinks about it even if they produce an impossible scenario as does "paused" used as a speaker tag. No one can choose our words for us without our permission. I offer only my opinion which anyone is free to consider or ignore. Write on. Take care. Vern

Vern,

No. The "he paused" is not a tag as we use them in dialogue. Let's try "froze" instead because it's getting confused as a dialogue tag. Consider this example.

John walked into the room. He froze.
As a reader, I am wondering why. What's in the room? What does he see? What made him stop?
And I'm not going to give the answer in the next sentence. I may describe some sweet foul odor and an unidentifiable figure bundled in the recliner first. Then I'll reveal to my reader that there's a dead body in the room and it's John's father. 
Sherry

You write a story.  The story you write isn't the story you want to tell.  The story you write tells the story you want to tell.  But that isn't the story that keeps the listener reading.  The story that pays the reader is told by events in the story that have effects the reader cares about on characters in the story (including characters not shown, eg. everyone who will die if that nuclear bomb goes off), or sometimes on things, if the reader is convinced to value those things.

Great points here, Sherry, about how word choice can raise questions. I guess I'd caution you to not rely so much on the effect of a word ("abruptly"), that you fall into the habit of substituting a descriptive word rather than playing out a live scene and demonstrating the word. This is the same point I tried to make above about typing "paused" rather than creating a pause. I may be way off, however. Just adding a perspective. I realize the brevity of a single, perfect word might be just right for a scene.

"That's right," he economical.
Take care. Vern

Ian McEwan, author of Atonement, is an example of an economical writer. And a good one at that. I love his books.

Well, I'm still thinking on this topic, even if it has quietly fainted.

The initial question was how to get the reader from paragraph to paragraph. The answer above seems to be "story stakes & conflict." I said it. We all said it. While falling over ourselves to remark on Sherry's use of the word "paused" and why it didn't work in our collected view.

But there is someone who says it is important. As in, the most important thing. (ME!) Word choice doesn't stand behind stakes and conflict in a novel. Word choice is the only way we can create stakes and conflict. It is our one tool as writers. The rest is the product of how we choose to use words.

I find the catch-all mantra "the heart of the story is stakes & conflict" a flat bit of writing advice that could easily be poorly executed, now that I'm thinking about it. That's like saying what makes a good nation is "good people." What does that mean? I'm thinking it is a tad more involved than that. "Stakes and conflict" don't appear out of thin air. They have to be crafted.

Now WHAT might we use to craft stakes & conflict (and tension)? Cotton balls? Bits of tissue paper? Hm... I know! WORDS.

Words are the fundamental element of story-telling. If I was going to make a story recipe, I would toss three things in my bowl:  pages, ink, and words. From that I might bake some conflict.

Films rely on stakes and conflict, yes? Which are translated to the viewer through excellent camera shots, a good soundtrack, the right actors, tricks with color (Schindler's List), close-ups contrasted against wide panoramic scenes punctuated by the film's main soundtrack. It's in those juxtapositions & artistic decisions that the tale is delivered -- the tension is amplified by such choices.

Well, what I'm saying above is, we have to do everything a film accomplishes (and more!) -- the visuals, the camera angles, the details, the acting, the close-ups, the speaker's volume -- through the words we choose, the punctuation we apply,  and the way we choose to focus the reader's attention with both. We don't get to create tension with music. We create music with the single and solitary tool we have: written language.

We get readers to the next paragraph by using words WELL. And sure, part of what we want words to do is to convey a sense of tension (or time passing, or any of the varied human emotions that can universalize the reading experience.) I agree on that. Without a good story, we have lots of words that potentially say nothing at all pretty well. But the question is "how do we get readers to the next paragraph?" Finesse with words. Knowing the craft.

Two authors writing the same story with the same stakes will write two completely different novels. That's the voice. That's the art.

Charles Frazier. Ian McEwan. George Saunders (please read Lincoln on the Bardo and tell me that man doesn't have a distinct style). J.R.R. Tolkien. Colson Whitehead.  Jodi Picoult. Jane Austen. Alison Weir. Edith Wharton. Ernest Hemingway.

J.P.
Sherry.
Vern.
Corra.

Different voices. Why? Because we took those tools and used them differently. One would hope.

J.P., you say most successful writers would say conflict and stakes are at the heart of the story, but would these same writers say anyone could have written their novels -- or would they protest that their indelible fingerprint is on the pages? Why? What is their fingerprint? Is it the stakes?

Do we read to the next paragraph because we must know the answer to the scene's dramatic question -- or because we trust the author to write the answer to that question in a satisfying way? It isn't the question that gets us, really. It's the belief that by plowing through this paragraph, and this one, and this one, we will be delighted on our way to an answer we trust will inevitably please us, or convince us, or surprise us, or move us. Are we going to trust an author to take us there if the author fumbles through words, focuses everywhere but where it matters, relies on gimmicky alliteration and a large, fumbling vocabulary to convey mood, and writes in generalizations? Are we willing to go to the next paragraph if the one that preceded it proves the author's worth, even if and especially if the author uses sprawling sentences in the middle of a tense scene?

I won't demure with a "but what do I know?" because I do know. What gets me to the next paragraph is a belief that the author is in complete control. After that, depending on the genre, absolutely, stakes and tension keep me going. But the heart of it is the author's ability to control her craft. I don't believe the stakes if I don't believe the author. The tension isn't effective if it reaches me through a gasp. I have to believe it's real. I have to trust the authenticity of whatever the author is saying, even if that author is telling me there is such a thing as a little tiny half-person with big feet named a hobbit. I have to so trust the author's voice I don't question this. That happens through words. That is the heart. And if we as writers don't know this fundamental truth about writing, we need to spend a lot more time closely reading. 

I don't think you can separate a novel's words from its stakes and conflict and say one is "not something anyone has said is unimportant" and the other is "the heart of story-telling." The words give birth to everything else. 

Pardon me. I shall be off now to dust the hedges and think fancily about the word grumbit.