Finding a Frame for your Story

I took this picture just outside the Place Stanislas in Nancy, looking into what is said to be the most beautiful square in the whole of France. It was designed by Emmanuel Héré and lavishly embellished by Jean Lamour, whose wrought iron archway draws the eye into my photo.

I'm a crap photographer, but I like the way the dark green foliage in shadow at the front of the picture anticipates the lighter tree in the square, and then the one that we can glimpse beyond that. I like the contrast between the pale sky and the gilded filigree of the railings, between the harshness of the foreground and the softness of the distant spire. Really, I suppose, it's two separate images, ones superimposed on the other, both of them echoing and resonating together.

Just as I've attempted to frame one view with another, so one story can provide the setting for another when you are writing fiction. You can do this through flashback, using the present as a lens through which to view of the past, or you can use your subplot, making the actions of the minor characters provide a commentary on the behaviour of your protagonists. As with my picture, there should be plenty of similarities and contrasts between the two layers in your story, in order to make what can sometimes be a complicated process worthwhile. If you can pull it off, your narrative will have greater depth, more nuance, more subtlety than it would if it consisted of a single plot strand, rather than two inter-related ones that counterpoint each other.

Writing Fiction – How to Structure a Story

I rather like this ramshackle old window, snapped in some mediaeval village in France. I like all the different textures: the painted tongue and groove planking, the peeling frame, the cracked, occluded glass and the partial sight of a brick wall beyond that.

Think of it as a metaphor for the structure of a book. The planking is the setting or background, the frame is the concept - the single, illuminating idea - on which your narrative is based, the broken glass is the way in which you subvert your original idea with a change of perspective or an unforeseen plot twist, while the brick wall could be the kernel of truth at the centre of your story, or  the glimpsed heart of darkness, or the end of the road for one of your characters, or the suggestion of the existence of another world beyond the one you are currently exploring.

What I think the picture illustrates is the fact that writing a novel is not an entirely linear process, although most plots need a beginning, middle and an end. The task for the writer is to build up layers – you don't establish the background, then introduce a character, then set the plot in motion – the challenge is to do all of them at the same time, rather than sequentially.

If you want a writing work-out for the weekend, try writing a scene with this in mind. Approach it as if you were painting a picture. While you are filling in some of the background, think how the figures relate to the fictional landscape you are creating - are they central to the composition, or are they doing something intriguing in the margins; do they blend in or stand out; do they attract or repel? Your lit pic might allude to some action taking place just beyond what is currently visible, to give a sense of onward momentum. Perhaps you could frame your scene, setting it in a context that counterpoints or highlights the picture you have drawn. None of this is easy to do, but if you can pull it off it is a way to synthesize what you have written and it should lend a satisfying depth and texture to your work.