Every once in a while, I’ll be working on a
story where one of my characters has to tell someone a story. This worries me. First, I am worried about whether this might
just be my need for an information dump, for backstory that may not, in that
moment, advance the plot. But, for the
sake of this post, let’s say I’ve ruled out that concern. The story the character has to tell is
necessary in that moment, and I’m looking for a creative way to have this
happen, something more than skipping a line, changing the font, and starting
italics. Say I want to keep this
character’s storytelling in the scene?
Yeah, I know. How to do
that? So while I’m reading I’m always
keeping an eye out for ways authors might handle this. Last week, I found two cool approaches in A.
G. Howard’s fantasy, Splintered.
Artifacts, Play, and Animation
Alyssa has descended down the rabbit hole to
solve the mystery of her mother’s connection to the Alice in Wonderland story, thus freeing her from her the asylum to
which she is condemned. In order to
solve this mystery, Alyssa’s guide, Morpheus, needs to remind her of some
history she’s forgotten from her childhood.
Instead of just retelling the story over tea, Morpheus, gets out the old
chess set they use to play with when they were children. We learn, in fact, that Morpheus used to
practice the ensuing story with Alyssa when she was a child. The chess set comes to life and reenacts a
significantly chosen courtroom scene from a generation ago. The scene cuts off, and Alyssa urges Morpheus
to follow the fleeing characters.
“Follow them yourself,” Morpheus says, and she is armed with all the
information she needs to start her Wonderland journey.
Howard uses several storytelling tools
simultaneously which any writer could use individually or in combination. First, she uses the artifact of the chess
set. An artifact strikes me as a great
way to bring a story to life within a scene.
It evokes memories. It grounds
the scene in the physicality of the moment.
It evens provides opportunity for stage business and action for the
characters in the scene during the retelling.
I’m even reminded of Holden’s use of a baseball mitt to a story in The Catcher in the Rye. Second, she uses the concept that this story
was a game they played in the past, a concrete memory in itself with which the
characters can interact and to which they can have visceral emotional
reactions. Third, of course, the chess
set is animated so that the story can be dramatized for us like a play within a
play. “Mind explaining?” Alyssa asks
pushing Morpheus to fill her in on the necessary history. “I would prefer to show you,” he says and the
chess pieces come to life enabling Howard to show rather than tell.
Context of Conflict
Later in Splintered,
Alyssa meets back up with Morpheus and he presses her to explain how she
discovered his ulterior motives for her quest.
Howard sets up an interesting conflict dynamic here between the
two. Morpheus wants Alyssa to explain
how she figured out his plan –not because her discovery incenses him, but
because he delights in how well he manipulated her. So in retelling the story of her discovery
she is recounting his genius. “Figured
it out, did you?” he says. “Make
yourself comfortable, and enlighten me on how you came to be a netherling
princess.” His acid tone puts me on
alert as a reader, and all of a sudden two things are happening at once,
peeking my interest –the retelling which is helping me put the pieces together
and this intense emotional conflict between two characters I care about. Alyssa, on the other hand, is reluctant to
explain because she realizes she played right into Morpheus’ hands and he is
gloating. She refuses to sit and “a
bitter taste burns [her] tongue.”
Throughout her story, we are tuned into Alyssa’s very physical negative
reaction to Morpheus, as when she says, “I can’t bring myself to watch his
enthralled features”. So as she retells
her journey of discovery, the reader feels the tug and pull of this emotional
conflict, heightening the experience of what could otherwise be a dull
retelling, merely skimmed over. Howard
goes on to have the characters use the retelling to draw judgments about each
other and where they now stand which advance the storyline, and the reader,
thank goodness, avoids a Scooby-Doo-ending!
I’m definitely going to be watching for other
techniques authors use to help their characters tell stories in compelling
ways, but for now I thought I’d share a few that we could all try, regardless
of genre.
