In Defence of Flashback

I know that some writers – and editors – view the use of flashback with some misgivings, objecting to it because the reader is made to look back at events which have already happened and therefore knows there is a positive outcome (your heroine is still alive and compos mentis) meaning that the narrative tension is diminished.
I'm currently plotting a novel and I'm definitely going to tell some of it in flashback, for a number of different reasons.

• Looking back at something which has happened enables the writer to put a spin on events. They don't just happen sequentially, they can be viewed through the lens of the present, which gives you the potential to examine them more obliquely and add layers of subtlety. It's rather like lighting a scene for effect – do you use soft, rosie tones or go for a cool, blue hue? What you might possibly lose in tension, you certainly make up for in atmosphere.
• I don't believe that suspense is necessarily diminished. The reader knows that the protagonist has got from point A in the story to point B, but they have no idea of the route taken, the pitfalls, or the high points. In a novel written sequentially you don't know whether the heroine will make it to point B, but generally speaking they do, so it seems to me that nothing is lost.
• Writing in flashback can allow you to use an unreliable narrator, which is another way of adding tension to your work, as the reader gradually comes to see that the account given by your central character may not necessarily be accurate and unbiased.
• Using flashback enables you to exploit the full potential of dramatic irony, where the reader knows more than the characters do, thus giving a different kind of tension to the story.

It also has to be said that a number of writers have used flashback to dazzling effect. Off the top of my head, I'm thinking that Wuthering Heights opens with the ghost of Cathy outside the window and Heathcliff in terrible distress calling out to her. Emily Brontë then goes on to describe the course of their ill-starred relationship, but knowing from the outset that it ended tragically means the narrative is shot through, not just with dramatic irony, but a delicious kind of poignancy as well.
And one of the most famous opening lines in modern fiction is Last night I dreamt  I went to Manderley again...I don't suppose anybody had the effrontery to tell Daphne du Maurier to avoid writing in flashback.

Pathetic Fallacy in November

I'm sitting in my writer's block (shed) gazing out at the downpour outside. The sky is like wet newsprint, running with grey. The rain that is currently drumming on my shed roof, reminding me of wet camping holidays as a child, expresses some of the gloom I feel at the approach of winter and the loss of daylight.

November is the perfect month for pathetic fallacy, a literary device where you attribute human emotions or characteristics to nature, or to inanimate objects, for  example the sullen river, the hostile facade of the building... You'll notice I've chosen negative examples in both cases, and this isn't purely coincidental, because pathetic fallacy is often used when human actions are so intense they are uncontainable and spill over into other things. Wuthering Heights is stuffed full of pathetic fallacy – the wild weather on the moors expressing the turbulent emotions with which Heathcliffe and Cathy are wracked. It can be a great way of giving your writing resonance, ensuring that the feelings of your characters reverberate and echo.

Because it's effective, pathetic fallacy can easily be come a default position and you need to be wary of that. You might consider writing a scene in which your heroine is having a major emotional crisis against a background of utter delight – radiant sunshine, the perfect vista, the ideal home – whatever floats your boat. My hunch is that this will enable you to explore feelings of alienation and isolation that are not available if you rely on pathetic fallacy all the time.

So, instead of the sodden garden with its great burden of water that I'm gazing out at, here's a field of young sunflowers newly opened up, turning their faces round to find light.

An Alphabet of Better Writing # S

S is for...Setting

The setting of a story can be crucial.  It's certainly never incidental and you shouldn't underestimate the importance of it.  Apparently writer Catherine Czerkawska discovered to her dismay that publishers wouldn't take a gamble on her lovely novel The Amber Heart in spite of her established track record because it was set in Poland!

When you are framing a story in your head, don't consider the setting in purely commercial terms, either.  A well-handled location can add immeasurably to a reader's enjoyment of a book: would we remember Wuthering Heights if it weren't for the wild beauty of the Yorkshire moors? Would Thomas Hardy's Wessex Novels be so memorable without -- well -- Wessex? You should give setting at least as much importance as a minor character in your story.

When you are working on place, it is important to be authentic and accurate -- even if the location exists only in your head, you need to be consistent. As with the use of any kind of detail, less is more, so aim for quality rather than quantity when you are bringing the landscape of your narrative to life -- brevity is the soul of everything, not just wit.

If you want some practice - a  little writing exercise - try describing the picture below.

Think about colour, texture, geology, the weather, the smell, the silence, the history of the place, what it means to your protagonist and what dramatic potential it might have.  When you have written your piece, cut twenty percent of it and see what you are left with.

On your marks, get set...

Reading - When Once Just Isn't Enough

There was an interesting article in The Observer last weekend, where a number of writers talked about books they had taken the trouble to read not once, but twice.  The piece was worth reading if only for a perfect image from one of my favourite authors, Geoff Dyer,

I'm not a great rereader – or at least, I'm a failed one: I decide to reread something I read 20 years ago and then give up because the original experience, presumed forgotten, turns out to have been mysteriously preserved, like a leaf between the pages.

 Mostly, I'm an accidental re-reader.  I was completely immersed The End of the Affair by Graham Greene and it wasn't until the very last page that I realised I'd read it before -- I even found the other copy on my bookshelves, testament, perhaps, to having my heart broken too many times. I don't even like Graham Green, that much.

I can think of two good reasons to re-read something: sometimes, it can be like a reunion with an old friend.  I can't bear contemplate ending my days without having read Wuthering Heights again and I've sobbed my way through it two or three times already.  Other than indulgence, it can be useful, as a writer, to re-read something you have really enjoyed the moment you finish it.  Devour it once for pleasure, then go through it forensically for a second time, trying to work out how the magic tricks are done.

With so many fantastic books waiting to be read for the first time, it can seem almost sacrilegious to return to an old favourite.  What books would you go back to, and why?