Common Problems in Manuscripts
Desire
The first is that there is no desire track for the protagonist. Or a weak one. That is to say, the hero of the story doesn’t seem to want anything. There’s no goal. John Truby says, “Desire is the driving force in the story, the line from which everything else hangs. Everyone gets on the ‘train’ with the hero, and they all go after the goal together.” Now, if you’re writing a novel, it’s fair to argue that the novel’s main desire track shouldn’t be revealed until page 20 or 30 or something. But that doesn’t mean that in your opening scenes, there should be no desire at all. There should be. Robert Olen Butler says that the “element . . . missing from virtually every student manuscript I’ve seen, has to do with the phenomenon of desire.” And he’s totally right. I see this over and over again.Exposition
The second thing I see a lot of goes hand in hand with the first problem. Beginning with boring exposition; dumping back story and world-building on us right away and not giving us any proverbial train to ride. Information in and of itself can never compete with narrative, really. Give us a story first; provide context and then the reader will see how the information is important for us to know. Without that context, we’re not sure if the info is important, or as my father in law likes to say, “Is this gonna be on the test?” Imagine taking a railcar tour of an abandoned mine—one that they’ve obviously made some safety upgrades to. What would be the most captivating way for the tour guide to start? By giving you a 30 minute lecture on the history of the mine? Or by giving you a few quick safety guidelines and then plunging into the depths until you’re immersed in total darkness and silence and then flicking on a weak headlamp and telling you a tidbit of the mine’s history? Before you give us information, plunge us into the story first.Dialogue
Next thing: flat, on-the-nose dialogue. This is dialogue in which the speakers are conveying information and nothing more. If your dialogue reads like an interview, or if it is just a way to deliver information, then it may be problematic. But if there is a layer to the communication which isn’t being stated but that exists nonetheless, readers have fun searching for that below-the-surface layer. When people speak, and especially in conflict situations, they don’t often state how they’re feeling. There’s this great Key and Peele skit about a school bully—he sees this kid reading and he goes over and slaps the book out of his hands. The reader says, “Why you gotta pick on me,” and the bully’s response is this: “Because I’m not doing very well in school. I’m reading at a third grade level. So when I see someone reading for fun, it makes me feel stupid. And then I get mad.” This just goes to show how absurd it is when people do state how they’re feeling. But it’s also the behind-the-scenes look at what the writer of the scene needs to know. What are your characters feeling? They can convey information via dialogue, but that can’t be the only thing they do. They should also imply at least some of their desires.Summary, not Scene
And finally: one of the things I see a lot of is people writing too much summary and not enough scene. That is, people failing to dramatize situations that could be full of tension and drama. Scenes immerse us in the story, enact desires, allow us to feel vicariously, and ally us with the characters. I’ve written recently on Scenes vs. Summary, using a scene from Fredik Backman’s A Man Called Ove as an example.Do you think you might have one of these problems? Take a look at my Story Momentum class, which guides students through
- The essential elements of story
- The key to crafting desire-driven stories and scenes (aka "mini-stories")
- Getting tension on every page
- Juggling action with the various kinds of narration that might bring the action to a halt
- Controlling your pacing
- Avoiding conspicuous plotting through invisible setup and payoff
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