The Curmudgeon of Craft, COC for short.
Craft — An activity involving skill in making things.
Fiction is art; no rules, only guidelines, right? Well, actually, no. We think writing fiction begins like any other skill — say a carpenter building beautiful tables and chairs. There’s a craft to be learned before the art comes. And if the tables and chairs aren’t properly designed, if the joints don’t fit together, nobody can sit in it. I ask you, what kind of freaking chair is that?
If you consider yourself a “literary” writer, you can skip this column. We’re not even talking to you. See, we think you’ve got your head on backward. Beautiful words are not more important than the story. We think fiction is about storytelling and you should tell your tale clearly. In fact, clarity is king around Spinetingler. We don’t like being confused. We want to know what you’re trying to say. And we don’t like getting tossed out of the story by stupid crap the author or editor could have fixed easily if they’d worked harder on craft.
For my first assault on The Unclear, The COC picks The Bricklayer by Noah Boyd. It’s the author’s first novel, and ordinarily we’d give him a pass on any criticism. But Boyd’s novel is selling so well, we figure he won’t mind. Hell, he probably won’t even see this. His PR people will protect him.
And if you’re a fiction writer, or at least one who believes there could be something to this craft idea, you might want to hang out with the COC for a while.
Mr. Boyd, a pseudonym for a former FBI agent, has written an exciting and engaging thriller in The Bricklayer. We read and liked it as much as our Spinetingler reviewer, primarily because it’s fast-faced and because of the protagonist, Steve Vail. As our reviewer said, he’s fearless, plus he owns great instincts and brains. We much enjoyed hanging with Steve as he solved a complicated case, dodged nasty booby-traps, and destroyed more bad guys than a well-placed Claymore.
But …
His next book will even be better if he listens to the COC. We are going to show Mr. Boyd where he needs a little help. It takes nerve to criticize another writer, but sorry, Noah. It’s my job.
The first problem I had was attaching myself to the first heroic FBI agent I read about. A very exciting chap, but he was immediately killed. Oops. You mean that wasn’t the hero? Oh, okay. Maybe this one. Many craft instructors believe it’s important to intro your hero first. But this story moved very fast, so I just kept going until I latched on to the right one.
My only real craft problem with Noah’s novel was point of view shifts. But there were many. The Curmudgeon of Craft had to put this exciting novel down at least two dozen times because I wasn’t sure who was talking, or because I’d been tossed out of the story by a sudden shift in who was telling the tale.
Here’s a great example: On Page 120, our hero Steve Vail is fighting his way through a maze. It’s tight, close third person; we are seeing and feeling everything Steve does as he works through obstacle after obstacle. But near the end of the chapter, as Vail removes a blasting cap from one bomb and begins to leave the room, the next graph begins, “At the same time Vail was climbing the rungs that led up to the hatch…six of the surveillance agents were only twenty feet away. Had he (Steve) known this …”
There might be better examples of author intrusion, but I can’t find one quickly, anywhere. Who the hell said that, I asked as I put the book down, the spell broken for a moment. We have a new narrator? What happened to Steve?
Can you say omniscient? It’s God talking, I guess.
Later, Vail is about to break into a house. As he readies himself, he sees a Dodge down the street and wonders if it might be a bad guy. Just so the reader has no doubt, Boyd starts the next graph with, The driver of the Dodge lit a cigarette. His gray eyes narrowed as he tracked Vail’s movements. “Vic, he’s back inside the house,” he said into his cell phone.
Noah — give us a clue you’re shifting POV will you? Little stars, or dash marks, even just a few blank lines between these two points of view? Maybe even a new chapter?
If you’re going to show us a scene from one character’s point of view, please don’t tell us what everyone else is thinking at the same time. A different FBI official closes out a Vail POV chapter by “holding back his anger” and reminding himself how important it was to recover the money. Steve wasn’t even in the room, let alone inside the other man’s head.
Fiction writers, please know whose point of view you’re in. Only tell us what he/she can see, hear, feel, smell, taste, or think. Be clear.
— The COC
Yes, COC, but you are a bit generous in identifying POV issues as “only real craft problem”. How about clunky dialogue, sloppy, pointless passive voice all over the place and awkward, unevocative description?
You’re right, Paul. I should have mentioned the use of weak verbs like “izzes” and “wazzes.” He dropped them throughout like a blizzard drops snowflakes. Fiction writers need to work harder on rewrite than Noah did.
But while his dialogue and descriptions won’t win prizes, at least they moved the story forward — something unannounced POV shifts don’t.
Thanks for commenting. My idea here was to get some dialogue going.
As this is Noah Boyd’s first novel. But still it brings newcomers to Noah Boyd’s The Bricklayer.
I enjoyed reading The Bricklayer. It was fast moving. I read a book for pure enjoyment and unless an obvious mistake pops out I ignore the little mistakes. Once I started the book I could not put it down. Looking forward to reading another of his novels.
I look forward to the next one, too, Donna. Exciting and engaging were my first comments.