Two plot interruptus examples from the previous post:
1) 101 ways to harpoon a whale inserted in the middle of an angsty whale hunting/soul searching metaphor?
2) the ten pages of how the bomb was built while the hero looks at the device?
You have done your research. You want to share your knowledge. You want your readers to see the complicated details involved, and how much legwork you have done. So, in the middle of hunting for the mighty elusive whale, in the middle of cleaning whale gut and showing life on the sea, you insert a chapter of the different kinds of whales and the use of its massive body parts. You give, in excruciating detail, the width, the length, the depth of each of the dead whale's lips and ballocks. I die from the pain of laughter and resigned bemusement. And I'm just the Muse. Imagine your reader's reaction.
Truly, the wonders of whaling, the bloody battle, the incredible size, and the minuteau of fish filleting, would capture the attention, if rightly done. However, like an overchewed bubblegum that sometimes one just gnaw at even though one's jaw is hurting from the work, I think an author can be guilty of pounding the reader over and over with a wordy anvil until the reader gets a headache and starts skipping pages.
Just like describing the building and workings of a bomb in the middle of your explosive scene. You're killing your own suspense when the urge comes over you to impart your scientific research. Can we say, researchdump? Yes, we can.
I see your eagerness to show how terrible this device is, how much damage it could do with a few wires. Can I shout something in your ear? SHOW IT! By telling and telling and telling, you're losing the impact. Either explode the plane and rain pieces of human debris all over the landscape or pull it back, give one of your characters the sobering thought of himself as so many pieces of human debris. An image is worth a thousand scientific explanations, dear writer mine.
But I see your obstacles to clear storytelling. It's not easy to avoid scientificdump, especially if you're writing a techno-thriller, is it? After all, a techno-thriller deals with technology and its characters throws out phrases that could sound like a bad Star Trek fanfic. That first book nearly killed you, didn't it? All that research. All that information. So much to impart in a Book One.
This is what I mean with the daily battle with words you encounter as a writer. I can only show you so much because you're the attacking front to my strategizing. You're fighting with yourself because you know your readers don't want the scientificdump, so you keep holding back, and blocking your own flow.
It is an ambitious war you've chosen. Let's break it down:
1) You want to write a continual romantic thriller series because it's not out there.
2) You want to explore a continual romantic entanglement between two people.
3) You want to explore the cloak-and-dagger world with really cloak-and-dagger subjects that most people do not understand--the use of virtual reality and remote viewing, in the true-est sense, with scientific items and biological know-how to explain the phenomenon.
4) You want to write it all in one neat little package, meaning you risk alienating the readers who want the romance and find the science parts too scifi and the readers who are intrigued with the new type of techno parts and find the sex way too sexy.
5) To top it all, you want the male protagonist who will provoke nothing but the strongest response from your readers. Why? Because his idea of sex is closer to the kind depicted in erotic romance than romantic thrillers.
Can I shout again? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?
But we pushed on. And you tasted your first battle in this epic from the heroine's perspective. It has left you bloody. Now you want it from HIS erotic perspective.
Can I?...ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?
1) 101 ways to harpoon a whale inserted in the middle of an angsty whale hunting/soul searching metaphor?
2) the ten pages of how the bomb was built while the hero looks at the device?
You have done your research. You want to share your knowledge. You want your readers to see the complicated details involved, and how much legwork you have done. So, in the middle of hunting for the mighty elusive whale, in the middle of cleaning whale gut and showing life on the sea, you insert a chapter of the different kinds of whales and the use of its massive body parts. You give, in excruciating detail, the width, the length, the depth of each of the dead whale's lips and ballocks. I die from the pain of laughter and resigned bemusement. And I'm just the Muse. Imagine your reader's reaction.
Truly, the wonders of whaling, the bloody battle, the incredible size, and the minuteau of fish filleting, would capture the attention, if rightly done. However, like an overchewed bubblegum that sometimes one just gnaw at even though one's jaw is hurting from the work, I think an author can be guilty of pounding the reader over and over with a wordy anvil until the reader gets a headache and starts skipping pages.
Just like describing the building and workings of a bomb in the middle of your explosive scene. You're killing your own suspense when the urge comes over you to impart your scientific research. Can we say, researchdump? Yes, we can.
I see your eagerness to show how terrible this device is, how much damage it could do with a few wires. Can I shout something in your ear? SHOW IT! By telling and telling and telling, you're losing the impact. Either explode the plane and rain pieces of human debris all over the landscape or pull it back, give one of your characters the sobering thought of himself as so many pieces of human debris. An image is worth a thousand scientific explanations, dear writer mine.
But I see your obstacles to clear storytelling. It's not easy to avoid scientificdump, especially if you're writing a techno-thriller, is it? After all, a techno-thriller deals with technology and its characters throws out phrases that could sound like a bad Star Trek fanfic. That first book nearly killed you, didn't it? All that research. All that information. So much to impart in a Book One.
This is what I mean with the daily battle with words you encounter as a writer. I can only show you so much because you're the attacking front to my strategizing. You're fighting with yourself because you know your readers don't want the scientificdump, so you keep holding back, and blocking your own flow.
It is an ambitious war you've chosen. Let's break it down:
1) You want to write a continual romantic thriller series because it's not out there.
2) You want to explore a continual romantic entanglement between two people.
3) You want to explore the cloak-and-dagger world with really cloak-and-dagger subjects that most people do not understand--the use of virtual reality and remote viewing, in the true-est sense, with scientific items and biological know-how to explain the phenomenon.
4) You want to write it all in one neat little package, meaning you risk alienating the readers who want the romance and find the science parts too scifi and the readers who are intrigued with the new type of techno parts and find the sex way too sexy.
5) To top it all, you want the male protagonist who will provoke nothing but the strongest response from your readers. Why? Because his idea of sex is closer to the kind depicted in erotic romance than romantic thrillers.
Can I shout again? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?
But we pushed on. And you tasted your first battle in this epic from the heroine's perspective. It has left you bloody. Now you want it from HIS erotic perspective.
Can I?...ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?
But we're talking of poop interruptus, aren't we? Not a problem. Next time, on to the next couple of examples from the previous post. That doesn't mean I won't explore the outcome of the risks you took with your battle decisions. Because you won some, and you lost some. Was it worth it?
Who won the battle? The alligator or the snake?
