First Rule of Fiction Writing: Be Authentic

One of the most endearing and perhaps the greatest strength of fiction writer Ann Hite's Black Mountain series is the authentic voices that Ann has given to her characters and narrator. They are so real it is as if they are standing right in front of you. I wanted to shake their hands upon introduction.

As Elizabeth Berg says, "The people who are the most irresistible are those who are most themselves."

We can actually 'feel' when they are not being themselves -- in real life and even on the page. You've met people who made you antsy, made you feel as if you are both sharing a secret and you've just met them. The secret of course is that you both know this person is not what he or she appears to be, or tries to appear to be. Of course this cover-up can make for an interesting plot development as the reader sees their 'persona' slip and eventually the character reveals his true colors.

But if this is not a plot device, then reader and character are both uncomfortable in this shared lie.

Berg says the best thing to do is to write naturally. "Using your own voice, try to think of what you are doing as dictation. Put down onto the paper the words you are hearing in your head -- literally."

For me that means writing in first person. When I begin saying 'he said, she said, and describing scenes with an omniscent voice, the distant widens to a deep chasm dividing me not only from the characters, but from the reader. I even feel isolated and removed from the scene.

Today I rewrote a scene, not a bad scene, but a ho-hum scene from a first person perspective. I chose one of the women in the room as my eyes and ears and let her tell what happened. It surprised me at how stilted some of the descriptions sounded now that I saw the scene through her eyes.

So first step in finding your authentic voice, is finding your narrator. As soon as I could 'see' my narrator, I could put perception, focus, and personality into the scene. It still isn't good.

Now I have fallen into the trap of reportage.

Trust me, anyone who has reviewed very many manuscripts or reviewed books whose authors have paid for the service are familiar with the amateur mistakes. The glaring amateur mistakes. Not so easy to spot is how the writer overcomes this awkward writing. But, just like authenticity, you know it when you see it and can relax and enjoy. Trust builds with an author who writes with 'authority' and 'authenticity.' Maybe that's why we're called: AU-thors!

Writing this bloggy advice, I see that it appears to be leading writers to an attitude of 'be more concerned with each word you write and be careful of reportage and stilted writings and to scrutinize each word placed on the page.'

NOOOOO!

Just the opposite.

Set the editor aside. Forget what everyone has told you about writing and for this first draft, this first romance with the page, just let the words flow. What I do advocate is getting to know your character so well that she speaks through you. As Berg said, "... dictation."

That is my mistake. I sit at my desk looking in through the window at my characters. I can't hear them very well from out here. My focus is distorted by the thick layers of glass between us. I can't use any other senses. I don't smell their perfume or musky odors or bad breath or the scent of the room. I can't taste Alma's homemade cookies or Rita's cherry jam. I need to open the door and move inside. Smile at the room full of women and see how they respond to me.

Getting to know characters may involve writing a long detailed history. Not only the parents' names, but the grandparents, where they were born, raised and which wars they fought in -- personal and militarily. It also means that you know if they are right or left handed, what their birthstone is and if they like having that birthstone. What scars do they have? Inside and out? What makes them stop and admire? Who attracts and repels them?

This also requires putting the editor out with the morning trash. Do NOT. DO NOT invite that editor back in until the first draft is completely written. Send that editor on a trip around the world. And while she's gone write. Write as fast as you can. And while you're writing visit with your characters. Get to know whether they prefer cherry jam to ham sandwiches or what their smile looks like. Get to know who is shy, who is bold, who is angry, who is frightened, who is carrying a heavy burden, keeping a secret, and who is just so happy they could sing.

It isn't only journalists who should be asking who, what, where, when, and why. Every writer, especially fiction writers need to ask. And don't forget how.

Diana Gabaldon (you knew I'd have to insert her in here some way) likes to tell the story of driving her daughter to soccer practice and all the time her mind was on her characters. She sees Jocasta reach for a cut glass goblet and watch her man servant push the glass just an inch so that her fingers close around the glass precisely. It is at that point that Gabaldon has the epiphany that 'Jocasta is blind!' and misses the turn off to soccer practice. Even in her anecdotes about her writing, Gabaldon has great timing and understatement. I admit that some of that was lacking in her latest book -- along with alot of other things I found endearing about her Outlander series. But I digress.

For me, at this moment, writing in first person works. Even if the final version moves back to third person, I will get to know my characters, remove stitled descriptions, and get rid of the barriers between me and the action through my narrator who is now my best bud!

What Is Writing To You?

Exactly one month ago I would have answered that question in this direct way:

"Writing is the air I breathe. Publishing short stories and essay aren’t enough.
I have to publish a book soon or people won’t believe I am a successful writer.
Writing is who I am."

Ah, but in five minutes everything can change drastically.

It was August 26, 2009, another hot day here in Atlanta. Ella, my nine year old, and I had walked home from her robotics team meeting. She talked about the homework she had and how unfair it was. I told her that was how life could be sometimes. My mind was on my novel in-progress and how I never had enough time to write. I was hoping to get in a few pages before bedtime. At home Ella did her homework, while I checked my email and wrote a couple of pages on the novel. Life was so normal. When she was finished, she asked to go play next door—we live on a cul-de-sac. I agreed never taking my eyes from the screen.

A few minutes later I stopped and decided to check on her. The back of our house faces the neighbor’s yard, so I opened the door and saw her playing under the carport with the two boys. Life was good.

I closed the door, picked out supper ingredients and went to turn the TV to the local news. Five minutes had passed. I saw the four year old boy from next door walking through my yard. I sighed. He liked to come over and borrow Ella’s toys. I answered the door.

“Ella’s in trouble with the police.” He smiled.

I laughed. “Tell her to come home. It’s almost time to eat.” I guessed they were playing some sort of game.

I closed the door, but something told me to go the back door, the very door I had opened five minutes earlier. When I opened it this time, I saw a police officer squatting on the side of the road.

Writing those words still paralyze me. I knew something horrible had happened.

The two images that remain with me even now are the police officer squatting—I couldn’t see my daughter, only the back of his blue uniform and dark hair—and one of her sandals with the strap broken turned over in the middle of the road. Believe me I was living every parent’s nightmare. Ella had be struck by the police officer’s car. There had been no noise loud enough to give me a warning, no squealing tires.

So what does all this have to do with writing? Stay with me I have a point.

I spent the next three hours talking to my daughter. She was awake, alert, but very afraid and in bad pain. Around me were crowds of EMTs, police, family, and neighbors. But my life contained only my daughter, who would be ten in three days. Ten. Please let her become ten! I held her hand and talked while I spoke to God in my mind. Helicopters swarmed above us, the news stations. My husband arrived, answering questions I could not answer. And then we were on our way to the hospital by ambulance. I realized maybe it wasn’t so bad. They didn’t life-flight her.

When the doctor told us two hours later that Ella had a mild concussion, a deep cut to the eye, and badly bruised knee, my legs went weak. For the first time I cried.

“She can go home. Just watch her. No sports, running, or jumping for a month.” Then the doctor smiled. “Looks like you’ll have that birthday party on Saturday.”

In that moment I saw my life in a crystal clear light.

In the days to come, I couldn’t write. Honestly I wasn’t sure I’d ever write again. Did it matter? The drive with which I pushed to the computer everyday; did it change anyone’s life? Did it make a difference? I spent hours just sitting next to Ella. This really bugged her at times, but she put up with me. I couldn’t sleep without seeing the haunting images of the accident. Yet, Ella was alive, and I had a chance to really make my life count for something, to show her how living life was done.

A few more days passed and finally I opened my journal and began to write. I wrote about writing. I knew that all my struggles to be ‘successful’ were not as important as putting my pen to the paper. I would give myself to writing whether I ever published another piece again. I would have fun. I would give a voice to all my concerns, to those people in my past that could no longer speak for themselves. I would continue to write books whether I published them or not. I would honor the characters that popped up in my head, whether they were marketable or not. My writing is my gift, talent and from this grows my passion. Life is about passion.

Funny thing is since I made this shift in attitude, doors have opened. I have two publishers interested in my novel. I’ve published several short stories, and I’m reviewing books, by request, for a New York publisher. I have to believe that relaxing into my art—because it is art—has cleared the way. I now spend more time enjoying my writing, having fun for the sake of fun. I’ve agreed to teach an after school reading class at Ella’s school once a week. I joined a book club. I now know that my books will be published. I might not know when or with what publisher, but it will happen, and that’s fine with me. You see, I look at my family and realize how fragile life is.

What is writing to you? Is writing your only identity? Would you write just for fun? Is it something you wish after but can’t seem to put your hands around? Do you defeat your chances by never writing yucky first drafts?

Take it from a writer who learned the hard way. Success is never enough. Each publication just sets the bar higher. To enjoy writing, you must put the business part to the side for another time. It cannot be the most important goal in your dream.

You must find joy in writing, in creating characters that come to you in the middle of the night and radically change your plot. You must be willing to write the worst dribble in the world and have fun doing it. Many writers are successful and don’t enjoy their work. Life is too short.

What is writing to me, now? It is my art, just one of the many things that make me the woman I am.

What is writing to you?

Bio: Ann Hite's Beautiful Wreck, my second novel, was a semi-finalist in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest earlier this year. The novel is now being shopped by her agent.

In May of 2008 she was chosen as featured artist for The Dead Mule, a literary magazine. They published 18 of her selected Black Mountain Stories. Then Val, the editor and founder, had an idea to make a pdf out of the collection to give to the readers. Please feel free to go to this link and download the collection. It's free, no strings attached, only thanks for all your support.