Exposition
Oct. 28th, 2004 08:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
odd_buttonsThe following is an excerpt from Part III of the book Making Shapely Fiction, by Jerome Stern. The first two parts are very much worth reading as well. The book is available in paperback.
Exposition
Exposition is the technique used to embed the information you need to tell your story. Readers must know if the year is 1989 or 1898, if the place is Crete or Coral Gables, if the characters are grown-ups or children.
Writers deal with exposition in a variety of ways. Some are perfectly straightforward, starting with a clear statement about the background and situation of a character:
Other writers let information leak into the narrative:
Both methods have strengths. The first can sound authoritative and convincing, as if the writer were a journalist or historian. The second immediately places readers inside the story.
Some writers have problems because their exposition lacks clarity:
If readers aren't sure about the age or even the sex of the characters, they can't see the characters and the story seems vague.
Other writers overload their sentences with exposition:
When exposition is intrusive, or sounds as if it is being introduced artificially, the story suffers. That's particularly true for dialogue:
Sometimes it's not clear what exposition is necessary until after a first draft is complete and you've discovered the story you really want to tell.
See Beginnings, Dialogue, Endings, Flashback, Tension.
Exposition
Exposition is the technique used to embed the information you need to tell your story. Readers must know if the year is 1989 or 1898, if the place is Crete or Coral Gables, if the characters are grown-ups or children.
Writers deal with exposition in a variety of ways. Some are perfectly straightforward, starting with a clear statement about the background and situation of a character:
In the village of Pipik, about four miles from us, there was a butcher named Goddle who had one arm. He had never married, but now he was thirty-five and thought it was time.
Other writers let information leak into the narrative:
Goddle heaved a rack of ribs onto the chopping block. He sighed. He knew people didn't like to look at him. "I one-armed butcher?" they'd say. "Could that be good luck?" And he knew what they whispered, "Whatever happened to the other arm?" And they'd tough their fingers to the side of their nose as if they knew something.
Both methods have strengths. The first can sound authoritative and convincing, as if the writer were a journalist or historian. The second immediately places readers inside the story.
Some writers have problems because their exposition lacks clarity:
Robin and I went down to the pool. I was excited because I knew I wasn't allowed to be there without adults, I wasn't allowed to be there at night, and most important, I wasn't allowed to be with Robin by myself.
If readers aren't sure about the age or even the sex of the characters, they can't see the characters and the story seems vague.
Other writers overload their sentences with exposition:
John Twight stared at the appellate brief he was working on in his two-story brick home in Chapel Hill, North Caroline. Since being brought up in a farming family outside of Boone, graduation cum laude from Davidson College, and going to Harvard Law School he'd often faced difficulties, but this was going to be a tough one to win.
When exposition is intrusive, or sounds as if it is being introduced artificially, the story suffers. That's particularly true for dialogue:
"I know ever since your King Charles spaniel puppy, Lucifer, got run over by a car, and your goldfish, Gabriel, leapt out of the bowl and died in the dust, you've been mournful, Sharon. So let's go to the pet store downtown."
Sometimes it's not clear what exposition is necessary until after a first draft is complete and you've discovered the story you really want to tell.
See Beginnings, Dialogue, Endings, Flashback, Tension.