Joe’s Post #119 – So there I was, bum in chair, a Timmies coffee steaming beside me, the sounds of skates and coaches yelling just beyond the plexiglass in the Langley Sportsplex, and I was just about to write another riveting, nay, epic tale about my research.
But no. Though I’ve learned some amazing things about Holland during the war and my books have all come in (including a text-book on Anglo-Dutch relations during the war, and I don’t mean a sex book) I thought, based on the last posts by Silk and Paula, that I’d talk about a book.
The reason I want to talk about it is it’s a book I read on recommendation, a book that’s been turned into a movie, and a book that does something (actually a LOT of things) different.
Oh, it’s a massively clever book, this one. It’s a writer’s book. And it’s one that all writers need to look at in their darkest moments, when the rules of writing or a teacher’s words about what to do and what not to do come haunting us in the dark.
First off, it’s got two “I” perspectives, or what I like to call ‘first person perspectives’. That’s odd right there. Two you say? Why, yes, two. One from the present, the other, mostly, from a diary. How many times have we heard that can’t be done? Well, Gillian Flynn did it. And did it well.
Second, backstory. It starts on the 2nd chapter.
Wait, what? I thought we couldn’t have backstory right off the bat? Well, looks like you can.
Third. Two, count them, two unreliable narrators. I don’t want to give away plot points or twists or spoilers, but both lie their asses off to the reader, either by omission or by outright deception. Now, who has heard we can’t have unreliable narrators? Who thinks you can’t write a book, a book in 1st person that has things hidden from the reader?
Well, Gone Girl did just that.
In your face.
So, I ask you, are there any hard-cannot-break-rules for storytelling? Really? Did she outline or not outline? Did she worry about making her characters likeable or unlikeable? I dunno.
What she did was write a brilliant story. It’s seriously one of the best books I’ve read in a long, long while. She told the story she wanted to tell and told it the way she wanted to tell it.
It’s compelling because it has a great question that needs to be answered. It works because the voices in the book are unique, brutally observant, and (frankly) deeply disturbing. It’s amazing because the plot is so tight, so tense that it’s impossible to put down. (Oh and check out her verbing of words – like someone “mosquitoing around her.”)
So here’s the thing, at least for me, and it harkens (yes, I said ‘harkens’) back to something one of my writing gurus said. “Just write a good book.” “But how, dammit, how?” I cried out. And there are ways to do it, techniques to use to hook a reader, to make them not be able to stop at the end of a chapter, to have characters we loathe and love, etc, etc, but when it comes to writing that book, just write it.
Anyway you want.
I think I’ll do mine in my own blood. I hear agents love that.