I'm so honored to be the recipient of a 2021 Sustainable Arts Foundation Award! This funding will be a great help as I complete my current novel-in-progress. A huge thank you to the Sustainable Arts Foundation!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kirsten Bakis
Friday, May 14, 2021
Tuesday, June 23, 2020
What We're Doing in Class: Why every good narrator is "unreliable"
Here's a sample of what we're doing in my classes with the Hudson Valley Writers' Center. This session of the yearlong Year of Your Book series focuses on tuning in to the voices in your story.
Below: Why every good narrator's voice is "unreliable," with some short prompts to explore this in your own narrator or point-of-view character. What do they know? What don't they know? How can your story tell more than their voice is able to say?
Tuning in to the voices in your story: Week 3
The Unreliable Narrator
There are various possible/useful definitions for this term, which was coined by Wayne Booth in The Rhetoric of Fiction in 1961.
In the most narrow sense, it means a first-person narrator who lies or tells a clearly distorted version of the truth. That’s the definition that was first conveyed to me in graduate school.
One of my favorite examples of this type of obviously unreliable narrator is the protagonist of Poe’s “The Telltale Heart.” His first words to the reader are: “True!—nervous—very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?”
Right away we’re made aware of the existence of a “you” who says the narrator is “mad,” which holds us in the tension between his insistence that he’s sane, and the knowledge that someone else thinks he isn’t. That only lasts about a minute: he quickly starts sounding so out of touch with reality that most readers will judge for themselves that he’s “mad” by the end of the second paragraph. (And things just get crazier from there as the story goes on.)
There are other types of obviously unreliable narrators: those who lie or leave things out on purpose, which we may discern right away or not learn until the end of the book. (E.g. the narrator of Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk.) Those who are meant to be read as naive or limited in understanding. (Huckleberry Finn.) Those whose points of view are meant to seem abhorrent (the speaker in Eudora Welty’s “Where is the Voice Coming From?” — see below.)
But, as I’ve looked at this question through the years, I’ve come to think the idea of a narrator’s “unreliability” is a useful lens for almost every story— that the voice of almost every well-drawn, three-dimensional narrator is, in their own way, “unreliable,” which is to say they are fallible and human, and the narrative consciousness of the story holds this knowledge of their fallibility, and conveys it to the reader.
To explain this, let me explain what I mean by “narrative consciousness” versus the point of view of the narrator.
In Welty’s “Where is the Voice Coming From?”, we only hear from the first-person narrator. In fact, we never hear a non-racist voice in the whole story, not even secondhand through something that someone else says within his hearing, for example. So the point of view of the narrator is pure racism. But when you get to the end of the story— even though his is the only voice you heard— you don’t feel that racism is good. You may even see it as more evil and insidious as before. The narrative consciousness of the story is aware that racism is an evil, and that is what it presents that to you. The narrative consciousness of the story is larger than the small, bigoted consciousness of the POV character, who can’t see that his actions are wrong.
But this principle, of the narrative consciousness of the story being larger— giving you more information— than the narrator can give themselves, is at work in almost every good story. An favorite example of Frank Conroy’s (late head of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop) was a moment from The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro. The dignified narrator doesn’t tell us what he’s feeling about his father’s death--he talks only about attending to the details of his work— but then he notes that his employer, Lord Darlington, “Stevens, are you all right? . . . You look as though you’re crying.”
Here, the narrator doesn’t tell us that he’s feeling grief. The narrator only tells us he cares about his job. But the story tells us that he’s crying. The narrative consciousness is aware that he’s attending to his work with extra concentration to avoid breaking down. It passes that awareness to us. Even though the narrator may lack it, and even though we’re only seeing the story through the eyes of the narrator.
This makes the story three-dimensional. It makes it feel complex and nuanced in a way that it would not if the narrator were completely “reliable” and just stated everything exactly the way the story wanted to present it. To do this, the narrator would have to somehow be able to be objectively right about everything. That sort of voice doesn’t feel real, because it isn’t. Everyone is an unreliable narrator because they have their own particular way of seeing things and expressing things, impressions they want to make, things they want to hide from others, from themselves. This is true of us humans and so it’s true of good fictional characters, too.
The one sort of narrator that is really meant to be reliable is the omniscient narrator. This voice is presented as having no particular prejudices, secrets, peculiarities, or personality. The consciousness of the story cannot be larger than the narrator’s voice because the narrator’s voice is all-knowing. It is infallible.
I think this is a problematic concept. But that’s another discussion!
It might be worth noting, though, that if you’re trying to write in an omniscient voice and the story isn’t working, then getting closer into your character, and finding their personality— the things that give them a particular and unique point of view—their “unreliability”-- can often make the story come alive in new ways.
It’s also useful to think about the unreliability of all point-of-view characters, not just first-person narrators. The protagonist of Emma Cline’s “White Noise” (discussed last week) is a clear example.
Exercises:
1) Think of a scene in your current work. Maybe one you’re working on now, or would like to revise. Think about what that scene looks like to the point-of-view character.
Set the timer for five minutes and list three things that are happening in the scene that the POV character doesn’t know, or can’t admit to themselves.
— (If you come up blank, try this: write the scene from a different person’s point of view, making sure to show something they see that the original POV character does not.)
Set the timer for ten minutes, and start to write/rewrite the scene, holding this knowledge. Let it work its way into the scene in whatever way it naturally does.
2) This one is really simple: Set the timer for ten minutes and write a scenario in which someone walks up to your POV character and tells them how they look. That’s it.
-Does this tell you anything new/useful about your main character?
-How did your main character take this? Do they agree or disagree with the other person’s assessment of them?
Just bringing your attention to these issues can help broaden your perspective and show you where it’s possible for you/the story to see things beyond the borders of your POV character’s knowledge.
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Optional readings:
“Where is the Voice Coming From?” by Eudora Welty.
We hear the story only through the voice of the first-person narrator.
“Only hate has a voice in this story; morality is silent. The burden of judgment is imposed on the reader. The story is haunting because that burden is still ours; these views still haunt our country,” writes Casey Cep in The New Yorker.
“Sweetness” by Toni Morrison
Using the concept of “unreliability” in the broader sense discussed above—meaning the story is telling us things beyond what the narrator states, that the story’s consciousness holds knowledge that the narrator may not—do you see that principle operating in this story? How? Does your perception of the narrator change as the story progresses? If so, how?
Saturday, June 6, 2020
Classes June and July 2020 - and HVWC Scholarships for Writers of Color
Saturday, May 9, 2020
Online Novel-Writing Workshop through the CT Literary Festival
I hope this post finds everyone safe and well. As you may know, the Yale Writers' Workshop, where I usually teach in June, won't run this year. But I'm happy to be able to offer a seven-week novel writing workshop on Zoom in May and June through the Connecticut Literary Festival.
With a small class size, chances to share up to 9,000 words of your novel-in-progress, and opportunities to revise and generate new material, this course promises to be intense and fun.
That said, there is no expectation that the material you share has to be "done," "polished," or even "good"! The atmosphere will be supportive and exploratory. Bring your work, but also your challenges, frustrations, thoughts and questions about the writing process--and let us work on them together as a group. The aim is to leave you inspired and energized as you close in on the home stretch of finishing your novel.
Please feel free to ask me for more details about the course (use the "contact me" form to the right) or sign up here. Starts May 19.
Wednesday, March 11, 2020
Online Class - Starts Saturday March 14
Most of us will spend more time at home in the coming weeks. Here's something you can do for yourself-- a six-week online fiction writing course to add a sense of community, support, and continuity for your writing.
The Scene in Fiction
Six-Week Online Class
March 14 through April 18
Saturdays 2 to 4 Eastern Standard Time
Price: $275
Sign up: Use CONTACT ME form on the right
We'll use the popular platform Zoom, which allows easy online meeting with video. It's simple and intuitive to use, either from your browser or the free app. We'll spend a few minutes getting comfortable at the start of the first class.
The focus of this writing class will be the scene. What is a scene in fiction? What are the elements of a good one? What different forms can scenes take? We'll read and discuss excerpts from stories and novels.
Each week, you'll send us, and read aloud via video, 1,500 words from your current work for discussion by the class. There will be an optional focus (e.g., opening scenes), but if you're moved to send something different, that's always fine too. The core of the class is sharing your work and listening and responding to others'.
Open to all levels. Your writing each week can be from a single work-in-progress, more than one, or from project/s you come up with during the course period.
Feel free to write to me with questions! Use the CONTACT ME form on the right
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Note: All Hudson Valley Writers' Center courses have gone online for the near future, and I'll continue to offer my regular HVWC Year of Your Book classes via Zoom until they resume meeting in person. Check here for upcoming HVWC classes: Advanced Year of Your Book Session III starting 4/20 and Year of Your Book Session III starting 4/22.
I'm also available for private consultation or to edit your manuscript or work-in-progress. Write to me for more information!
Saturday, February 8, 2020
The Tarot Card Exercise
I developed this exercise at the Yale Writers' Workshop around 2015. It contains no actual tarot cards, but it does use physical cards when I do it in class, and, like a tarot spread, it encourages you to make connections among elements that are not obviously related. To do that, you have to engage your subconscious, your intuition-- the part of your mind that writes stories, which is the same part that gives you hunches, dreams, and visions.
The Exercise
Get three random numbers between one and sixty. Go to the list below and write down the words or phrases associated with your numbers.
Set the timer for fifteen minutes and write without stopping. Write whatever comes to mind. The only rules are: The first word or phrase must go in your first sentence. The second word or phrase comes anywhere after that. The third must be included in your last sentence.
If it feels strange or difficult, don't worry, just keep your pen moving. The end result does not have to be "good" writing or even to make any sense at all. Just follow the rules and see what emerges.
1. a premonition
2. torrential rain
3. a very hot night
4. mysterious lights at night
5. a stain that won't come out
6. eggs
7. an unexpected inheritance
8. inappropriate laughter
9. crickets
10. an angry outburst
11. the taste of salt
12. stairs
13. a stranger
14. a foul odor
15. a ship
16. something buried in the earth
17. sweat
18. an ancient custom
19. a castle
20. a drunken argument
21. something sticky
22. a curse
23. a small door
24. a woman's arm
25. a sudden realization
26. something sharp in the dark
27. a death
28. a cellar
29. a man's leg
30. a reunion
31. sand
32. a windowless room
33. a fan
34. the wrong body
35. feathers
36. children singing
37. sparks
38. a repetitive noise
39. a weapon
40. very, very sweet
41. a bout of dizziness
42. echoes
43. claws
44. stars
45. the smell of smoke
46. cold water
47. startled awake
48. a small animal
49. glittery
50. shivers
51. something burning
52. ticking
53. the scent of gardenias
54. whispering
55. the sound of someone crying
56. utter darkness
57. the smell of winter
58. a swarm of beetles
59. an empty theater
60. artificial snow
Sunday, January 5, 2020
2020 Classes!
Yale Writers' Workshop 2020
Monday January 6 is the last day to apply for my Alumni Fiction Intensive in June 2020. Must be an alum for YWW. Click here for an application.
If you're not an alum and would like to check out the program (highly recommended!), click here for info. General applications open January 20, 2020.
Classes at the Hudson Valley Writers' Center
for the current winter session:
Year of Your Book: Fiction
Wednesdays 10:15 to 12:15, January 15 through February 19
This course runs through the year in six-week sessions. Sign up for the year if you can; or, join when you're able. This course is for anyone who is in the process of drafting a novel, anywhere from the planning stage, to having a partial draft. Click class title to register.
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Year of Your Book: Fiction | Deep Revision
Mondays 10:15 to 12:15, January 13 through February 24
(Optional "soft opening" generative/fun class meeting 1/6)
This course runs through the year in six-week sessions. Sign up for the year if you can; or, join when you're able. This advanced course is for anyone who has a complete draft, or most of a draft, of a novel and is ready to revise. Please contact the office to inquire about this class which requires an application.
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"I Am [Not] a Real Writer"
Saturdays 10:00 to 12:00, January 11 through February 22
Runs through the year in six-week sessions. This course is for anyone who's ever wanted to try a writing class but worried that they're "not a real writer." The atmosphere is supportive, generative, experimental. Join us! Click class title to register.
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Or schedule a private tutorial at the Hudson Valley Writers' Center anytime. (Call first to confirm availability and times).