Ann Jacobus

If you would like your writing to be stronger and more surprising,

there are two areas of the human brain that you can cultivate.

1) The nucleus accumbens which responds pleasurably to the unexpected and 2) the binary operator which helps us divide complex concepts into opposites.

Most of us say that we like surprises.  We mean pleasant ones like a marriage proposal and an engagement ring, a surprise birthday party or even a snow day. No one wants a burst water main, a tax audit or the stomach flu.

Historically surprises were NOT pleasant, and usually came in the form of an invading army or a plague. We’re actually wired to observe patterns, form models and order our lives precisely to avoid surprises in an effort to control our environment and to survive.

In our STORIES, though-- fiction, nonfiction, films, song lyrics, even advertising-- we delight in the unexpected.  

The nucleus accumbens, located behind the left eyebrow (just kidding, I have no idea), responds pleasurably to surprising stimuli. It’s evident from birth and if you’ve ever played peek-a-boo with a nine month old, you know what I’m talking about.

Humor is largely powered by surprise, so figuring out how to tickle this area can help make us funnier writers. I’ll speak for myself, but even (especially) with the most serious of subjects, I can stand to lighten up a little.

The binary operator is responsible for our ability to divide and simplify relative and complex concepts into opposites.

Like: big/small, isolation/integration, mature/immature, good/evil. That's how we get black and white thinking in a world that's an infinite number of shades of gray.

If we think in terms of OPPOSITES in our fiction, and push everything as far out on the poles of extremes as possible, we will get more surprises.  Lukewarm or gray characters, settings, and situations will not produce the unexpected.  When you put opposites and extremes, incongruous and exaggerated elements together--voila the unexpected!

So the next time you sit down to write, think about your brain.

When we read something that really surprises us,  it can shake us out of the three-dimensional, "vegetable universe" (as Blake called it- see below) and transform us, sometimes profoundly. A brilliantly constructed plot-twist can lead to such transcendence.  When I first read A WRINKLE IN TIME at about age 10 or 11, I was blown away, and walked around for days adjusting to my altered reality.  Madeline L’Engle presented time, space and the Great Mysteries (those ladies were stars!) in a way that caused me to see the world differently. It is still a pivotal book in my bibliography.

Which is why I immediately bonded with Miranda in WHEN YOU REACH ME, by Rebecca Stead. She carries a battered copy of AWIT around everywhere, and even got a first edition copy for Christmas. I bonded with Miranda for other reasons, and when I finished the story, felt about the same way as I did when I finished AWIT, and I’m more jaded than when I was 11, so that’s saying something. 

I was so glad no one had spoiled the ending for me. I had even gone to hear Rebecca Stead at Books, Inc. here in San Francisco, before I had a chance to read her book. She did NOT spoil her own story, by the way, but sometimes kids asked questions that revealed a lot.  I was the lady pacing in the back quietly singing “la la la la la,” with my fingers in my ears, when they did. It was worth it. The author manages with one of the most unexpected and painstakingly crafted plot-twists to hurl the reader far behind the veil.

So even though I’m contrary about jumping on band wagons, I must in the case of WHEN YOU REACH ME. It is an extraordinary book and deserves all the attention and accolades it has received.

I am often at least a little disappointed when I read books that have been hyped and buzzed, since I approach them with high expectations. Another book I read that has been widely touted  and prized is GOING BOVINE.  I was so not disappointed. It’s a large (metaphysically) and ambitious book that delighted me.  OK, I would have trimmed a little, but the way Libba Bray creates her protagonist’s spot-on, sixteen year-old male  reality  and then expands and contracts it as she leads the reader deep into the irreal and absurd is funny, poignant, mind-bending and a journey definitely worth taking. The unexpected is working on all levels in Bray's book: language, character(s), humor--did I mention the absurd?--premise, and plot. Brava!

Good writers use the unexpected whether they realize it or not, on a micro-level in language, on a broader level in character, humor and irrealism (absurdity, magical realism) and on a macro level in plot. Readers love to be surprised on all these levels.

There have been a couple of kid lit books lately that use both the unexpected and especially the irreal in important and very successful ways.

Irrealism is the term John Gardner uses in THE ART OF FICTION: NOTES ON CRAFT FOR YOUNG WRITERS (p. 136) to describe  work by such writers as Kafka, and Borges,  where they imitate a reality like that “of our dreams” – or where a character’s external reality in some ways mirrors his “inner landscape” so that it is difficult to tell the two apart.

The irreal, when it works, pulls us “behind the veil.” A well crafted plot twist can do the same thing, only more profoundly-- shake loose our assumptions and open up the world in an almost mystical way to deeper meaning. 

One of the many reasons I liked WHEN YOU REACH ME, by Rebecca Stead is because Miranda explains her mom’s definition of the “veil.” 

 “Mom says each of us have a veil between ourselves and the rest of the world… when the veil lifts, we can see the world as it really is, just for those few seconds… all the beauty and cruelty, and sadness, and love. But mostly we are happy not to.” (p.71)

Writers and artists of all kinds may be more willing than most, pulled even, to take brief glimpses  beyond the veil. After all, the answers to the Great Mysteries must be there. Very sensitive and psychic people can’t help seeing behind it. But it’s there for a reason. Beyond the veil, I think the human mind can easily blow a circuit.  Sidling up next to it, dancing around it, taking brief glimpses, pondering it from the other side, this is the artist’s job.

 Tomorrow, I’ll discuss two already-well-discussed books that surprise us in original and well-crafted ways.

I’ve tried to write picture books. Novels are easier.

Even if I can’t write them, I have learned a lot about structure and plot from good picture books. BLUEBERRIES FOR SAL, one of my all time favorites, is an excellent case in point.

We all know plot is what happens in a story.

The overused but effective example is:

The Queen died, then the King died, are two events.

The Queen died, then the King died of a broken heart, is a plot.

The reason BLUEBERRIES FOR SAL by the wonderful Robert McCloskey is worth a close look is that he braids two simple plots together, and the symmetry and synergy of the two story lines results in a much stronger, more emotionally satisfying story. A classic, in fact.

Strand one: We’ve got Sal and her mother, kind of a character unit. They want blueberries. On a deeper level, naturally they want safety and freedom from being eaten by bears. They also want to stay together as a unit.

So Mother and Sal are happily picking blueberries to can for the winter. There is humor as Sal eats all she picks.

Strand two is introduced: We’ve got Little Bear and his mother. They also want blueberries. They also hope to avoid conflict with humans, and stick together. Tension is raised slightly by the mere introduction of the bears, even though they seem perfectly nice and anthropomorphic, and are happily stuffing themselves with blueberries to get fat for the winter.  They are bears, after all, and will eat ANYTHING. Check out Margo Lanagan’s TENDER MORSELS if you like bear stories. It’s the YA version of the Grimm Brothers' Fairy tale, Snow White and Rose Red.

Back to blueberries.

Tension is raised, again when we switch back to Strand one--

Little Sal can’t find Mom! She sets off to look for her and finds some crows. Finally she finds…Little Bear’s mom. Ack!

Leaving Strand one at a cliffhanging spot, we switch to Strand two of the BFS plot braid:

Little Bear also realizes he can’t find Mom. He sets off to find her, sees some partridges, and then finds… Little Sal’s mom!

This is the climax!

This point of highest tension is wonderfully illustrated by McCloskey with a bird’s eye shot of Blueberry Hill, and Little Sal and Little Bear on either side of the hill, trailing along behind the WRONG MOM.

Everyone’s world is out of balance. The plot strands have crossed—and tangled.

Back to Strand One: Little Bear’s mother realizes Little Sal is not her child (sic), and “walked off very fast to hunt for Little Bear.”

Strand Two: It takes Little Sal’s mother a couple of pages, and having some of the berries stolen out of the pail in her hand by Little Bear, before she realizes Little Bear is not her child. She also walks away quickly to look for Little Sal.

This IS a picture book so there’s no harm done. Their worlds collide in a gentle, humorous, and only slightly scary way (ah, but I can't shake the thought of Margo Lanagan getting a hold of this plot…). It’s worth noting that it’s the parents who are alarmed. Both Little Sal and Little Bear seem pretty nonplussed with the switch.

For the resolution, each parent finds their proper offspring.  Then in another bird’s eye view of Blueberry Hill, everyone goes home with their own family, and all the blueberries they’ve obtained, happy, and perhaps a little wiser about not wandering off from each other.

Simple, right? Fine, you try it and see how simple it is. Lovable characters in balanced, twin plots intertwined to produce, humor, tension, climax and satisfying resolution.

BLUEBERRIES FOR SAL is simple, like DNA is simple. It’s an elegant double helix of story, brilliant and classic, that has much to teach any story creator.