Friday, August 12, 2005
Exposition: turning points
Turning points are the major events in a story that twist it in a totally new direction. Something surprising happens that forces a character to completely change course. That's a turning point driven by action. Or, certain information is revealed that forces a character to choose a path he or she would otherwise never have walked. That's a turning point driven by exposition. Sometimes turning points are driven by both action and exposition.
Turning points often deliver the big surprises in a story. They can also be the most challenging for the writer to create. One of the best wells to draw powerful turning points from is the background of the characters. This is the bulk of the expositional information the writer withholds from the first three chapters, holding it in jealous reserve for knock-them-for-a-loop revelations.
There are two places in a story that especially benefit from action/revelation turning points, and both are related to remedying the "sagging middle" writers dread. The first is the midpoint or halfway the story. For example, in Sara Mitchell's Shenandoah Home, the heroine harbors a dangerous secret from her childhood. The importance of the secret builds tension until it becomes imperative for the hero to convince her to reveal what happened. When she does tell him the expositional information at the midpoint, the plot spins in a new direction with renewed focus and energy. The reader's question, "What happened in her childhood?" is replaced by a new one, "What are they going to do about it?"
The second significant place for a turning point to occur is the end of the second act, approximately three-quarters way the story. This turning point sets the stage for the Big Black Moment and jolts the story toward the resolution. For example, in Mary Jo Putney's The Rake, the heroine is an English noblewoman hiding as a servant on the wealthy hero's estate. When she confesses her motivation for running away (backstory that occurred before the story began), he pieces together her true identity. The expositional revelation compels him to make a sacrificial act that dominates the final chapters of the book.
In both instances, waiting to reveal the expositional information until as late as possible tightens the tension and increases the reader's desire to know. When the exposition is finally revealed, it creates conflict. Now that they know, the characters are forced to change, and any change equals conflict. And conflict equals reader interest.
Dramatizing exposition turns it from a curse dragging a story to a dying halt into a blessing breathing lushness and life into a story's pages. It's the context that guarantees the characters don't perform in a vacuum. It's one of the primary tools the writer uses to craft a relevant past, a comprehensible present, and a fascinating future for readers to enjoy.
Turning points often deliver the big surprises in a story. They can also be the most challenging for the writer to create. One of the best wells to draw powerful turning points from is the background of the characters. This is the bulk of the expositional information the writer withholds from the first three chapters, holding it in jealous reserve for knock-them-for-a-loop revelations.
There are two places in a story that especially benefit from action/revelation turning points, and both are related to remedying the "sagging middle" writers dread. The first is the midpoint or halfway the story. For example, in Sara Mitchell's Shenandoah Home, the heroine harbors a dangerous secret from her childhood. The importance of the secret builds tension until it becomes imperative for the hero to convince her to reveal what happened. When she does tell him the expositional information at the midpoint, the plot spins in a new direction with renewed focus and energy. The reader's question, "What happened in her childhood?" is replaced by a new one, "What are they going to do about it?"
The second significant place for a turning point to occur is the end of the second act, approximately three-quarters way the story. This turning point sets the stage for the Big Black Moment and jolts the story toward the resolution. For example, in Mary Jo Putney's The Rake, the heroine is an English noblewoman hiding as a servant on the wealthy hero's estate. When she confesses her motivation for running away (backstory that occurred before the story began), he pieces together her true identity. The expositional revelation compels him to make a sacrificial act that dominates the final chapters of the book.
In both instances, waiting to reveal the expositional information until as late as possible tightens the tension and increases the reader's desire to know. When the exposition is finally revealed, it creates conflict. Now that they know, the characters are forced to change, and any change equals conflict. And conflict equals reader interest.
Dramatizing exposition turns it from a curse dragging a story to a dying halt into a blessing breathing lushness and life into a story's pages. It's the context that guarantees the characters don't perform in a vacuum. It's one of the primary tools the writer uses to craft a relevant past, a comprehensible present, and a fascinating future for readers to enjoy.
