A Sensitive Look at a Failed Story
As of the end of July, I’ve read a number of books this summer. Some of them have been great, even wonderful examples of everything a book should be. Others…not so much. In this post, I’d like to talk about one of the worst books I’ve ever read and what we can learn from this. However, I intend to do so very carefully. I won’t list the name of the book or the author, or even the kinds of details that would enable someone to figure out which one it is. My goal is not to crucify the poor woman who must have tried very hard to put out a great story, but rather to point out the kinds of things that are great reminders to you and me as we craft our own tales. That said, as I reflect on all that went wrong in this story, I see 5 to wreck your novel. Or, in other words, 5 ways we can learn not to wreck it if we do the opposite.
High-Level Story
The story is marketed as a mystery told in dual timelines—several years in the protagonist’s youth and a brief window of time in her middle-age years. At the onset of the story, we learn that two people have been found dead. The circumstances and nature of their deaths is unknown.
At the very end of the story—the last two chapters—the author gives us first a shocking supposed answer to the deaths and then a plot twist alongside the truth.
I’ll discuss the rest of what we need to know about this book as we walk through what went wrong.
#1: Ignore the Basic Rules of the Genre
The most basic problem in this book is a misunderstanding of how to write a mystery. [And keep in mind that the back cover and the writing clearly identify that the author intended to write a mystery.]
If you read mysteries, you know that they always open with the mysterious situation—often, but not always, a death/ murder. From that point on, it’s the protagonist’s job to hunt for clues to solve the mystery. For example: how was the person killed and by whom? Or what is the terrible family secret that’s controlling a strange set of circumstances?
Mystery protagonists can take many different forms such as the amateur sleuth like Nancy Drew or the brilliant, eccentric police inspector, Hercule Poirot. And the mysteries themselves can run the gamut from intimate family secrets to political intrigue (although danger and suspense is generally expected or even required). But the number one absolutely required element is that the protagonist is searching for and unearthing clues throughout the story.
The book I’m referring to had none of that. There’s the brief prologue with the two discovered bodies and the last two chapters with the supposed and then actual answer to the deaths. The protagonist doesn’t look for clues, doesn’t accidentally find them, doesn’t really even devote any space to considering what happened. She really just wallows (in the current, middle-age timeline) in the effect that the incident had on her due to her use of it for publicity purposes.
Your Genre
You may not be writing a mystery. Regardless, there are elements to any genre that need to be there. If it’s a thriller, the protagonist (and the readers) need to know that someone or something is hunting him from early in the story…even if we don’t know why yet. In a romance, there’s relational and/or physical intimacy along with the kinds of conflict two people might encounter as they learn to love one another or grow in love at some point in their relationship. If you’re writing fantasy you’re dealing with a magic system and a whole lot of other elements.
You know this. I know this. But let’s not do what this author did and get lost in a middle story that has nothing to do with the framework we’ve chosen. If you want more help with this, there are lots of resources out there from the book Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody to K.M. Weiland’s very comprehensive website: Helping Writers Become Authors.
#2: Zero Conflict
Every book must have conflict. That’s what makes a story.
It doesn’t matter whether you’re writing a middle-grade coming-of-age story, a romance, or a spy thriller. There should be conflict. Something or someone is standing in the way of what the main character wants.
There’s virtually zero conflict in the book I’m discussing here. The girl gets the guy she likes. No misunderstandings, disagreements, or external challenges. There are some supposedly mean girls in the book and readers see a little bratty behavior, but not much. They never stand in the way of the protagonist. Never play tricks on her, start rumors, or try to steal her boyfriend.
There is NOTHING more boring than a story without conflict. That’s why authors often say that you have to make it hard for your character(s). Very hard. Painfully difficult. The journey to love, find hidden treasure or escape from slavery must be a challenge. Throw lots of obstacles in the character’s way. The obstacles should make sense to the story, but they should be real. And they should be very hard, at times almost impossible to overcome.
That’s what keeps readers reading.
#3: Create a Discordant Atmosphere
Ok, I struggled with how to word the header for this section. What I mean to say though is that the atmosphere must fit the story. This is a cousin to our first point above about ignoring the rules of the genre. I see this one violated quite often even in somewhat better writing. But never in great writing.
I’ll give you some examples since this one’s a bit less concrete, but first, suffice it to say that if you’re writing a heartfelt down-home story about found family (like Anne of Green Gables), you need to use lovely, romantic, lyrical ways of expressing everything from the setting to the dialogue. If you, like me, write Gothic novels, your descriptions will also likely be romantic but with a dark undertone of melancholy and foreboding. Thrillers are often to the point, punchy, fast paced. Many of them have a sarcastic tone or a touch of cynicism. (Thrillers are, at their heart, about the question: who can I trust? which naturally lends itself to some cynicism or even despair.)
This applies to everything from character descriptions to settings, to action and even dialogue.
Scene from a Thriller
Example 1: Ineffective
The moon’s soft, vanilla light shone through the last of the season’s leaves, its light dancing as the leaves rustled in the wind. Behind her, Celia heard the footfalls of the man. She tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to run. The sound of cracking twigs filled the night air.
Beside her Laine whispered, “Sissy! He’s coming closer.”
“I know. I know. Hold my hand. We have to keep going.”
Example 2: Effective
Shards of cold moonlight stuck the last of the season’s leaves. Their dying forms clung to the trees, fighting against the rising wind. The shadows flashed across Celia’s eyes, mingling with a wayward strand of hair, blinding her eyes. Behind her a lumbering tread echoed in the woods. She spun from side to side searching for a familiar sight. The crack of a twig pierced the darkness.
Beside her Laine whispered, “Sissy! He’s coming!”
“Grab my hand! Quickly. Let’s go.”
Analysis
I’ve deliberately exaggerated the poor writing in the first example, but trust me, I’ve seen writing that’s this bad. What’s wrong with it?
For one, the descriptions are too soft and pleasant for a thriller. People don’t perceive the moonlight to be soft and vanilla when they’re terrified. Readers don’t feel that terror when writers describe the light as shining or dancing. Instead it should strike the leaves. Even the phrase night air is inappropriate and could just as easily be used at a lovely twilight picnic. I changed it to darkness.
With respect to the action, in the first (poor) example, the main character tucks her hair behind her ears. Sounds like an emotional day (every day) in seventh grade. I added in the character spinning around desperately looking for a landmark and the rising terror of the light and her hair blocking her ability to see where to run. Those set a mood/ tone that’s genre-consistent.
And lastly, in the first example the dialogue is far too profuse. When they’re running for their lives, characters don’t take their time to finish whole sentences. They punctuate their exclamations with quick, snappy dialogue that communicates more quickly. This, along with shorter sentence structure overall, also increases the sense of stress and terror that the readers experience.
The book I read—a mystery, you’ll recall—had a pleasant, day-at-the-beach sort of feel. Right after opening with two dead bodies. That’s just poor writing. Readers sense it. It’s discordant and it makes the entire mystery premise unbelievable…ruining everything the writer is working so hard to maintain.
#4: No Character Growth
Another way to wreck your novel is one that we’ll cover quickly because well, you already know this. We all do. Or should. Characters have to change. There are some genre-specific exceptions to this, but they’re becoming fewer and farther in between. Readers want to see characters forced to grow. The only exceptions I know of are really fast-paced stories such as Indiana Jones or various spy thrillers, especially those that take place in a relatively short time frame.
If this author had structured this novel so that the story was jam-packed with clues, twists and thrilling moments, many readers wouldn’t care about the flat character arc. Flat arcs do exist in the mystery genre. However, the way in which she structured the book almost entirely around relationships with no tension and no conflict, required growth. That’s all that’s left.
You have to give readers something. When in doubt, assume that you should always back your characters into a wall and force them to change, to face the past they’ve repressed, to reconcile themselves to what they’ve made of their lives, their relationships, their disappointments.
#5: Pointless Scenes
Lastly, the middle of a book, indeed every scene of a book, must move the plot forward. It must work towards your character’s growth and the proof of whatever theme you’re exploring. There shouldn’t be any scene in the book that doesn’t do all of these.
In the book that we’re discussing, I mentioned that the prologue tells of the discovery of the two bodies. The second to last chapter puts forth a supposed answer. The last chapter provides a twist and the true answer. The rest of the book has nothing to do with the story. Literally nothing. They scenes are just happy summer memories contrasted with an adulthood wallowing in self-pity. Granted the self-pity does have to do with past choices related to the individuals who died, but nothing to do with solving a mystery.
Conclusion
Yes, it’s shocking! Most failed books don’t fail on quite this scale. I hated this book. It was insufferable. I read it thinking that surely something will come of this mystery. There will be clues about what happened, at least in hindsight. The main character will look back and dig through her memories to piece together the riddle such that she finally uncovers what really happened. (She does figure it out at the last minute simply because the answer is dropped into her lap: another huge no no!)
Note that none of this has anything to do with grammar or sentence structure. The book was flawlessly edited and it was still terrible. I slogged through it simply to finish it (I’m that girl), but without any reason or meaning for most of the scenes, without any character change, tension, or conflict, it was painful.
I say all of this partly to vent but also because after it was all said and done I sat back and reminded myself that this is a great example of what we all need to remember not to do in our own writing!
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