You're So Unbelievable

You're So Unbelievable

by Elizabeth Solar

Back in the early weeks of 2016, we huddled in front of the harsh blue glow of cable news, which felt like a surreal version of ‘Can You Top This,’ an old radio show in which comics tried to outdo each other with each successive joke, or NPR’s ‘Wait! Wait! Don’t Tell Me’, where celebs and commentators try to choose which news story that is true, among three far-fetched tales. But it was no joke. Although the stories from Washington strained credulity, we had to trust our eyes and ears.

Each press conference, and many statements proclaimed by the man who occupies our nation’s highest office seemed more incredible.  It wasn’t just the words coming from anyone’s mouth that felt untrue.  Okay, it was a little of that. Mostly, it was a series of unfolding events that felt unreal, surreal, unprecedented. Unbelievable.  How could this be happening?  Each incident getting more divorced from the world we knew before the new year. 

Our writer’s tribe groped for words to describe this phenomenon. We remarked, if someone chronicled these events in a book or movie, we’d question the credibility of the plot – that would never happen, we’d say.  That character is too broadly drawn, too one-dimensional.  And yet, here it was, a narrative playing out in real time, on what was becoming an unhinged reality television show.

The previous two years have got me thinking about the feedback we often get and give to other writers. Phrases like ‘That doesn’t seem realistic.’ ‘Seems like you’re piling on too many (events, characters, situations).’ ‘That would never happen.’  Or, ‘People don’t talk that way.’ Until they do. 

On a recent August afternoon, as my husband and I motored through the red-earth majesty of Utah’s arches and canyons, we listened to breaking news:  A certain campaign manager was just convicted of eight of 18 counts of various fraud and conspiracy.  More breaking news was delivered within minutes when the personal attorney of a certain president pleaded guilty to paying for – shall we say – a certain type of companionship, using campaign funds.  With the rapidity of a viewfinder, we have been bombarded with images and stories that used to be the domain of The Onion. The adult film star, her tell-all book, her media-savvy attorney A few more insider books written, with millions sold. High-level White House officials publicly referring to their boss in less-than-flattering terms.  An avalanche of tweets, lacking correct grammar and syntax, forethought, and humanity.

I could go on, but I have less than one thousand words to this post, so let’s get to the point.

If truth is crazier, more action-packed and stranger than fiction, why do we criticize the crazy out of our own, and other writers’ stories? My theory is we come to a story with a certain set of expectations and biases, given our life experiences, historical precedence, and our personal opinions. We often criticize, or label as untrue what we don’t know, understand, or wish to admit. 

 One of my beta readers thought a plot point involving a character’s sexuality rang false. It seemed perfectly plausible to others, based on who this character is, her background, and what they themselves understand about the world. Each reader brought their experience to the reading and based on that formed an opinion on the veracity of the plot point.  In that case, I have some re-thinking, or rewriting to do, or that reader might question friends about some of their early dating history.

Through a lens of moral and behavioral relativity, we may all be capable of certain actions, given the era, circumstances, background, personal stakes, and who we are.  In Les Misérables, Jean Val jean: Good guy, stole some bread for his starving family. Thief? Yes. Morally depraved? Absolutely not. A decent guy in dire circumstances. Spoiler alert: he repents, and it works for him.

Many commentators refer to our news narrative as ‘unprecedented.’  I will add: Unprecented in this country. From an office we associate with dignity, decorum and magnanimity. We know politics is often a bloody game, but as a nation, we have not seen, or heard the type of rhetoric, displays of abuse, callousness and sincere lack of empathy. Those are behaviors of other nations, other times.  But they are happening right here, right now. So, we reset a new normal.

How can we express surprise at national character development (or lack thereof), actions of specific individuals, and the never-ending stream of head-scratching events, as an abundance of evidence exists? If one pays attention to documented history (print, broadcast and internet media), has been exposed to their world view, philosophy and behavior?

In life, we have Wikipedia, audio and videotape, and back issues of print media which contain background/foreshadowing. How do we ensure our novels – even those with extreme events, characters and details – feel genuine, lived in, and real?

A few tips: 

Leave hints and clues to foreshadow: For an act that may seem out of character, or extraordinary. Throwing in an arbitrary plot point without explanation doesn’t make you clever. It’s the literary equivalent of ‘Because I said so.’

The laws of fiction mimic the laws of physics: Even in science fiction and fantasy, we are drawn to real thoughts, feelings, and reactions.  Are they consistent with human nature? With what has happened in the story?

Don’t be coy: We often withhold information to add suspense, dangling cryptic bon mots in front of the reader till they throw down the book in frustration when you finally do the big reveal. You could reveal the information earlier, and actually give your story greater depth. We know how Hamlet ends at the start. Doesn’t diminish the story one bit, and adds both stakes and humanity to the tortured Dane.

Our best stories are based in reality. Our richest characters in three-dimensional humanity.

Tell the most unbelievable tale you want, but back it up with truth. 








What Are You Waiting For...Submit Already!

What Are You Waiting For...Submit Already!

The Maven, the Connector and the Salesperson

The Maven, the Connector and the Salesperson