Friday, July 18: Bandersnatches
MAGIC, MYSTERIES, AND MISTAKES
by Steve Steinbock
A week ago, some 780 people attended International Thriller Writers’ third annual Thrillerfest at the Grand Hyatt in New York City. Sadly, I wasn’t among them.
All news I’ve read of the event suggests that it was a valuable, edifying, and fun event for all who attended. One attendee, David Montgomery, on his blog, posted an excellent summary of Joseph Finder’s lecture, “The Six Biggest Mistakes Even Bestselling Writers Make.” It’s a good summary of what I’m certain was an even better lecture. I bring it up here because it underscores some of the similarities of two crafts: magic and mystery fiction.
I know, I’ve written about this before. I don’t mean to beat a dead rabbit, er, horse, but humor me. It’s just that with the change of a word, here and there, Montgomery’s outline of Finder’s lecture could easily be read as a manual for legerdemain.
To illustrate, I’ll quote a few lines from Montgomery’s website as it relates to one of my favorite card routines, “The Ambitious Card.”
“The Ambitious Card” is an old standard. In it, a card (usually one that has been selected and signed by an audience member) keeps rising to the top of the deck, despite being placed elsewhere in the deck. No matter how many times the magician places the card in the middle of the deck, it keeps rising to the top. That is the basic “plot” of the routine. (Magicians do use the word “plot” to describe their routines). Every card man has his own version, and employs various methods (sleights) in order to pull it off.
To give you the general idea, here’s a version performed by the late Dutch magician, Tommy Wonder:
If you’re curious, here is David Regal’s version, and another performed by David Williamson.
What you’ll notice is that the basic plot of all three versions is the same, in the way that the basic structures of so-called formulaic fiction is the same. This calls to mind one of the criticisms that we often hear waged against the mystery genre: it’s formulaic!
If any story with structure is formulaic, then mysteries are indeed formulaic, and we should be proud of that fact. If the charge of formulaic refers to the basic mystery/detective story plot (crime is committed; a hero is called on to solve it; the hero looks for clues, encounters conflicts, and eventually solves crime), then once again, the formula is an age-old one for which we should be proud.
But I digress.
In the Ambitious Card Routine, the same “trick” is being done over and over again. The chosen card is shoved into the middle of a pack and magically rises to the top. There are several factors that make the formula work:
- the magician fleshes out the plot (such as the way David Regal transforms the card into a dog responding to its master’s call),
- the magician adds his own stylistic finesse (note how Tommy Wonder and David Williamson are telling the same “story” but it’s their personas that distinguish them, making each version of the routine unique), and
- the plot progresses and develops (with each phase, it is a little bit different; just when the audience thinks it knows how it’s done, the magician surprises them).
Let’s look at some selections from Montgomery’s outline of Finder’s talk:
The conflict of a plot must progress and escalate; the plot points must change and vary throughout the narrative. . . . Every scene must advance the plot.
This is pretty much what I said in the previous paragraph. Be it a magic routine or a story, each surprise should flow from the preceding one, increasing momentum as it proceeds. With no growth, there’s no advance, and hence, no plot.
Readers know the tropes and cliches of the genre. If the story is predictable, they’ll see where it’s going a long way off and get bored. . . . The key is to surprise them. Veer off from the expected course.
Where would we be without clichés? To some degree, storytelling would be impossible without them. But good storytelling doesn’t simply repeat the clichés; it twists them. Note how, in the second phase of Tommy Wonder’s routine, he pulls out a red herring, in effect, by suckering the audience into thinking that he put a dummy card in the middle, while keeping the selected card on top. The audience is convinced that they’ve caught him this time. But in fact, he’s caught them once again.
Showing Off: Too many writers make the mistake of: “I’ve done the research; I’m going to cram it all in there.”
Michael Crichton may be a good storyteller, but he also crams so many pages of expository lecturing in his writing that it’s easy to lose track of the story. Research is important, but ought to be kept backstage. Same thing with fancy card-moves and flourishes. They may look cool, but if they don’t add to the “story, they don’t belong. If you’ve ever seen Brad Christian, of Ellusionist.com, perform, you get the distinct impression that he’s really pleased with himself and his ability to fool the audience. Christian and Crichton both ought to take William Faulkner’s brilliant advice to writers: Kill your darlings.
There should also be variety in your scenes; don’t follow an action scene with another action scene and another action scene. Vary the pace, vary the types of scenes, slow down and speed up in order to give the reader a break and keep them interested.
Tommy Wonder and the others each use careful pacing in their Ambitious Card routines. I’ve seen plenty of magic performances, and read stories and novels, that lacked proper pacing. Good plotting has a rhythm to it. Readers need a chance to catch their breath, but the action shouldn’t lag so much that the reader falls asleep.
Please do have a look at David Montgomery’s summary of Joseph Finder’s lecture. And remember, it’s all in the cards.
Steven,
I hate doing this, but it itches like mad and I have to scratch: shouldn’t that be Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch – who wrote ‘Murder your darlings’ – somewhere around 1914?
Anal Brits Unite.
Neil, I stand corrected.
Sure enough, in his On the Art of Writing, Q wrote: “Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings.”
It seems Faulkner was following Q’s advice, and much of the world took Faulkner’s as the original.
Then again, most people I encounter think it was Jesus who first uttered the Golden Rule, but he was actually quoting Leviticus 19.
Provenance Police Unite!
I almost hate to break it to both of you, except that I do so revel in being a raving pedant, but Q stole the sentiment from Samuel Johnson, as quoted by Boswell:
“I would say to Robertson what an old tutor of a college said to one of his pupils: ‘Read over your compositions, and where ever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out.'”
Steven — A particularly nice piece! — Dale
It took me a couple of days to watch the videos, but good lessons and entertainment.