at Bakewell bookshop last month As I’ve been out and about talking about my novel, I’ve been surprised to meet – in stark contrast to the predominant aversion to spoilers – a couple of people who like to look at the ending, perhaps the last couple of paragraphs, before turning to the first page. Now, I like the ending of Sugar and Snails, although it’s been suggested that some might find the issues insufficiently resolved. (I do get asked if I’m planning to write a sequel!) Because it tells of a destination rather than the journey, I don’t think reading it in advance would constitute a spoiler (although, prattling on at one talk about how I was pleased with the ending, I did have a friend tell me afterwards she thought my ending wrapped things up too much).
when you can't see the path ahead Feedback on my own novel, coupled with my recent thoughts on being disconnected from a book I’m reading, has led me to ponder our preferences and expectations about where our reading will take us. How much do we like to know where we’re going and how much do we want to be surprised? If we claim to enjoy the unexpected, what happens when a book fails to deliver the type of unexpected we expect? Do we have reading assumptions of which we are not consciously aware?
As a writer, I’ve been rather dismissive of the creative writing industry’s advice that character motivation is key. But of course I want to write fiction that will keep readers engaged. Then Charli shows me (see the comments on this post) that I’ve actually written a classic hero’s journey; would my writer’s journey have been easier if I’d recognised this? Or did I have to work out for myself that that was the right way to go?
As a reader, I’m sometimes disappointed with thrillers that privilege plot over character depth. Yet genre fiction is much more popular than the literary fiction I prefer to read and write. As Sanjida Kay said about moving from literary fiction to thrillers, the latter requires the writer to follow a well-trodden path with specific calling points along the way. But these, of course, come from the reader’s expectations of the journey they’ve embarked upon. They might not know exactly where they’re headed, but they know the kind of ride they’ve signed up for. Thriller readers are looking for more of a twisty-turny mountain track than a straight run down a Roman road.
To push the analogy further, choosing a genre is like choosing a mode of transport: we’re setting out on a journey, but is it going to be by plane, car or train? By bicycle, donkey or our own two feet and who is holding the wheel or the reins? How much can we tolerate switching vehicles or setting off wearing sandals when we’d have been more comfortable in walking boots?
As a writer, I’ve been rather dismissive of the creative writing industry’s advice that character motivation is key. But of course I want to write fiction that will keep readers engaged. Then Charli shows me (see the comments on this post) that I’ve actually written a classic hero’s journey; would my writer’s journey have been easier if I’d recognised this? Or did I have to work out for myself that that was the right way to go?
As a reader, I’m sometimes disappointed with thrillers that privilege plot over character depth. Yet genre fiction is much more popular than the literary fiction I prefer to read and write. As Sanjida Kay said about moving from literary fiction to thrillers, the latter requires the writer to follow a well-trodden path with specific calling points along the way. But these, of course, come from the reader’s expectations of the journey they’ve embarked upon. They might not know exactly where they’re headed, but they know the kind of ride they’ve signed up for. Thriller readers are looking for more of a twisty-turny mountain track than a straight run down a Roman road.
To push the analogy further, choosing a genre is like choosing a mode of transport: we’re setting out on a journey, but is it going to be by plane, car or train? By bicycle, donkey or our own two feet and who is holding the wheel or the reins? How much can we tolerate switching vehicles or setting off wearing sandals when we’d have been more comfortable in walking boots?
| As a reader, how much do you like to be signposted to your destination and how flexible are you about the means of getting there? For my reflections of the journeys I’ve taken in other authors’ fiction over the past month, just click on the link. You might also be interested to see my new How I Write Q&A courtesy of Lady Nicci. |  |
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