Unpacking Prose: A Short lesson in Expanding Action and Suspense in Your Writing
One of the things I find that some writers do is to write a story from what I would refer to as stream of consciences. Some people call this writing by the seat of your pants, but I feel that it goes a bit further in that often times the story has been revised many times by the author. The problem is one that is inherent in humans. When we read words we have written we apply knowledge about the situation to the prose and often times neglect to let the reader in on the secret. When we do this the action that the words convey seems to be accurate, but in reality it falls flat to an outside reader. This short lesson will help you understand what to look for during the revision process, so that you can find areas in your prose that can be unpacked to create a better floe to the story and to help increase tension throughout the story.
When I write I am guilty of what I call condensed writing. I don’t consider myself to be an outliner when I write, but typically what I wind up with is merely an outline for the actual story that lies underneath. Ernest Hemmingway postulated that a story is like an iceberg and that there is more of it under the page than there is on it. This concept is popular in short story writing where economy of words is paramount in storytelling, but with longer works like novels, realizing that this is true can help us when we look for ways to unpack the prose.
I went back through my files and found this piece that I started a few years ago. Let’s use it as an example for this lesson:
We had three major fires in our town that year. The two main lumber yards were
set on fire. They were terrific blazes: flames leaping into the sky, big metal drums
exploding, hot ambers drifting on the breeze into unsuspecting neighborhoods. These
were magnificent blazes but their impact on the youth of the village was small compared
to the burning of The Place.
This selection is one paragraph long and consists of sixty-three words. It introduces a town where there have been fires and where a sanctuary of sorts exists for local youth. Let’s look closely at this paragraph:
We had three major fires in our town that year. The two main lumber yards were
set on fire. They were terrific blazes: flames leaping into the sky, big metal drums
exploding, hot ambers drifting on the breeze into unsuspecting neighborhoods. These were magnificent blazes but their impact on the youth of the village was small compared to the burning of The Place.
The first sentence “We had three major fires in our town that year” works to pique the reader’s interest. It is short and to the point and works to create a bit of tension. The in the next sentence we learn that two of the fires were in lumberyards. Then we are told that they were “terrific blazes” and what those blazes looked like. It continues on to touch on hot ambers raining down and then it introduces The Place and the idea that it burned down too.
While this opening does create tension and set a scene, it can be unpacked and shown to the reader rather than told to them.
An example of this would be to do away with the opening line, even though it is strong and does its job well. This is called killing our babies and is one of the most difficult parts of revision for most writers. The bottom line is that just because what we wrote is good doesn’t mean that it will survive the revision process. We need to be able to assess our work objectively. This being said let’s unpack this prose:
The night was a hot and steamy one, and I was hitchhiking my way from downtown back up to my house. There was a faint smell of smoke in the air, but I paid no attention to it. For all I knew it was someone having a campfire or something like that. I walked up Church Street, which ran for about three miles and was uphill from start to finish. Typically there weren’t many cars on the road at one in the morning, but the people who were out were more inclined to pick up hitchhikers than most. I heard the car screeching around corners down on main street and listened as the engine sound grew louder and louder.
Please let them turn up Church I prayed to the patron saint of road travelers.
Soon I saw the headlights growing closer to the stoplight on the corner. The car appeared to be picking up speed as it came up the block. I figured that this meant they would continue straight up Main, but when it got to the corner it suddenly turned right and headed in my direction.
I thrust my arm out and extended my thumb upward to the clear, star filled sky. The car swerved around me and continued right past. I figured they would just keep going up the hill, but then they stopped. I ran up to the passenger side door and opened it wide. Inside I saw a middle aged woman who appeared to be in a hurried state. I jumped in the front seat.
“You going up to the fire?” she asked.
“What fire?”
“It’s all over the police radio, the other lumber yard is on fire.” She put the car in gear and tore off up the hill.
By the time we arrived at the scene there were fire departments from all the surrounding towns there working to contain the blaze. It had quickly spread to the entire yard and was now sending fifty-five gallon drums exploding into the sky like a fourth of July fireworks festival.
This was the second lumber yard to be set on fire this summer in our town. It rained hot ash down on neighboring houses and threatened to engulf them too. I stayed there watching as the pumper trucks poured water on the flames and the remaining drums exploded. By first light they had the fire under control, and I headed down the road trying to catch a ride home with my thumb.
Thinking back on the lumberyard fires of 1977 I remembered how they impacted the local adults. There were news stories about possible arson and insurance monies. There were complaints about the ash that landed on peoples’ houses up to five miles away doing various amounts of damage to their precious property, but for the youth of the town the impact of these fires would pale in comparison to the one that took their local sanctuary, The Place.
The key to this unpacking of prose was for me to visualize what it was that the words were telling me and then to translate that imagery that I was seeing in my head back into words on the page.
In this revision the first sentence “We had three major fires in our town that year” is gone and is replaced with a scene setting opening line that introduces us to a character and is plight to get home late at night. While it is not the same as the original line it still works to pique the reader’s interest. Instead of just stating the facts about the fires we are then taken on an adventure where during the action of the scene we learn all of the same facts that were told to us in the original paragraph. By the end we know that there were two lumberyard fires, and that they damaged other property, we are also told about the sanctuary for the youth of the town and the fact that it too burnt down. But instead of flat telling prose we have rendered the scene in action and have created tension throughout its entire length.
While this new opening is not perfectly polished yet, it has succeeded in unpacking the prose. What once was a short 63 word long telling introduction to a world of a story has now become a 494 word showing, not telling, adventure that pulls the reader into the story and its world.
What this shows us is that Hemmingway was absolutely correct with his iceberg. There is truly much more below the surface of a story than is on the page for writers who tend to write from the seat of their pants. In the world of novel writing it is our job as writers to dig deep and pull that good stuff to the surface.
This tool is one that will take practice and hard work to master, but once you do your prose will improve exponentially. Give it a try.