This week’s writing advice column is about writing risks. Not when characters take a risk–but when you, the writer, take a risk. If you’re like me, you might have a radical idea for your work-in-progress. (Or at least different from what you’re used to writing.) It sounds great.
Then worry begins. What if it doesn’t work? What if I can’t do this? What if my big artistic risk fails? What if, what if, what if . . . All before you write a single sentence.
Here’s what I learned from reading a book that took an artistic risk.
Take artistic risks.
(from The Victim by Max Manning)
A dual-plot/timeline concept is fascinating, both from a story perspective and a psychological one. It’s also hard to pull off. I’m not certain the end result here was entirely successful. But I commend Manning for being willing to take that risk.
Whether or not you think the two parallel stories “work” is personal. It might also help to read a print version, as flipping back and forth on my phone Kindle app wasn’t ideal. I took notes, highlighted in either pink (for the Surrender chapters) or yellow (for the Fight chapters), which helped a bit. Even so, I became confused by what had happened and when for each section.
There were multiple times when I thought some action had already occurred (for example, Gem’s conversation with her boss about returning to work) and wondered why the characters acted as though it hadn’t. Then I realized that, yes, that action had occurred–in the other scenario.
But here’s the key thing: Manning took a huge artistic risk.
It might have worked. It might have flopped. A writer doesn’t know which it is until he/she’s written the book. Fretting about oh-no-what-if-it-doesn’t-work is pointless until the book is written.
Then you, the writer, can better judge the effectiveness of the risk. (Of course, you’ll need the help of honest beta readers and/or editors. Don’t forget that!)
What I’m calling “a risk” could be anything out of the ordinary in contemporary publishing:
- Changes in verb tenses between sections.
- A dual timeline.
- Second person point of view. (I don’t recommend it for a book-length project, but hey, theoretically, it could work.)
- Omniscient point of view.
- A narrator who’s neuroatypical or neurodiverse* and thus observes things differently than other people for any number of reasons.
- A narrator whose views are offensive to contemporary readers.**
- A non-human narrator, even: animal, alien, inanimate object.
- Or maybe it’s something that YOU haven’t written before. First person point of view when you’ve only written in third person, that sort of thing.
- And the list goes on.
These are all artistic risks.
Sometimes it’ll be up to the individual reader as to whether the risk pays off. The author has no control over reader responses. None. What I loved, someone else may detest. What I found lacking might really work for someone else.
The only thing the writer can control is the writing. Take the risk and see if it works.
I’m aware that this is relatively easy for me to say. I am not under contract for a book. I’m not the breadwinner in my household. I don’t have multiple published books and a target demographic who may be upset at not getting my “usual” type of book. The issue probably looks different from that vantage point.
But for the rest of us, what do we have to lose? Don’t let fear of failure hold you back.
It won’t be easy. It’ll take a lot of work, and you’ll probably have a lot of shed tears and hair-tearing and screaming at the computer. (Or is that just me?! Please say it’s not!) But, hey, you’re not a writer because it’s easy. You’re a writer because you’ve got stories to tell.
Two notes:
*I’m aware that this term is controversial. I do not mean to offend or denigrate anyone. I urge anyone who wants to write such a narrator to research the issue and always, always, ALWAYS approach this character with respect. Use sensitivity readers.
**I’m trying to practice what I preach. My WIP has a protagonist who holds racist views, though his views will change throughout the novel. Frankly, writing him scares me. We’ll see how this works out. It might not.