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#12: Start In Medias Res to Jump Into the Story

September 2, 2020/0 Comments/in Jane Austen Writing Lessons /by Katherine Cowley

I have an unpublished novel that I wrote and revised years ago. It’s a pretty good story, but the beginning never worked. I tried starting it dozens of ways, establishing the exposition this way and that, and ultimately, I set the story aside. Now, as I look back on it, I realize that I was starting the story way too early. If I were to revise it again, I would start it much later, in medias res.

In medias res means, literally, “in the middle of things.” It’s a term originally used by Horace over 2000 years ago in his work Ars Poetica (Poetic Arts).

Basic plot structure demands that a story needs a Beginning, a Middle, and an End. But sometimes, a story does not actually need a Beginning. Or at the very least, it doesn’t need to start at the beginning.

Unlike Jane Austen’s other novels, which begin with paragraphs or chapters of exposition, establishing the characters and the world, in Pride and Prejudice, we begin in medias res. The inciting incident is that Mr. Bingley has joined the community—and this inciting incident occurs before the first page of the book. As we’ve previously discussed, inciting incidents disrupt the world of the characters, shaking them out of stasis and starting them on their journey.

In many cases, we need exposition before we can understand or appreciate how the world has been changed and its characters have been incited into action. Yet there are benefits to jumping straight into the heart of the story.

Benefits of starting a story in medias res:

-It immediately focuses the reader on the main stakes

-There is inherent excitement, energy, and movement in what comes after the inciting incident

-It avoids what could be (in certain stories) slow or unnecessary exposition

-It can create suspense to learn not just what will happen next, but also, what happened before

Chapter 1 of Pride and Prejudice

The first two paragraphs (beginning with the famed “It is a truth universally acknowledged”) are thematic, and provide commentary on society and the characters without providing true exposition. Then, starting with the third paragraph we read:

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”

Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.

“But it is,” returned she; “for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it.”

Mr. Bennet made no answer.

“Do you want to know who has taken it?” cried his wife impatiently.

“You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.”

That was invitation enough.

We are brought immediately into the action of the novel, as Mrs. Bennet attempts to use all of her powers of persuasion to convince Mr. Bennet to call on Mr. Bingley so their daughters can be introduced to this newly-arrived, eligible bachelor.

Without need for straightforward exposition, we are introduced to things that would commonly be established in a more traditional exposition: the characters’ attributes and the importance to Mrs. Bennet of marrying her daughters.

“What is his name?”

“Bingley.”

“Is he married or single?”

“Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!”

“How so? how can it affect them?”

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” replied his wife, “how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.”

“Is that his design in settling here?”

“Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes.”

If dialogue is used, as it is in this case, to give hints of exposition, it must seem natural that the characters would really say these things. The effectiveness of including these details derives from the fact that Mr. Bennet is attempting to annoy his wife and feign ignorance of her matrimonial plans.

Interestingly, we don’t actually see the main character—Elizabeth—in a scene until Chapter 2. In Persuasion, each of the three sisters is given a thorough introduction by the narrator, and then we meet them and see them in action. In Pride and Prejudice, we are not given a through exposition to establish the characters; we must learn of them on the way. In the first chapter, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet only specifically reference three of their daughters, and do so only briefly:

“I will send a few lines…to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying which ever he chuses of the girls; though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy.”

“I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving her the preference.”

“They have none of them much to recommend them,” replied he; “they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters.”

Key Considerations for Beginning In Medias Res (Jane Austen Writing Lessons)

A Few Key Considerations for Beginning In Medias Res

If you’re going to start in medias res, the opening scene must be understandable without exposition or explanation.

If you’re starting in medias res, it still must be very clear how the inciting incident has changed the story world and set the characters on their journey.

And, perhaps most importantly, if you’re starting in medias res, you must avoid the temptation to infodump—to dump information, backstory, and exposition on the reader in order to provide them with what you think they surely need to know before experiencing your story.

Now, I’m going to rewrite a short portion of Chapter 1 of Pride and Prejudice, and I’m going to intentionally ruin it by adding too much backstory and exposition:

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his wife, Mrs. Bennet, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?” Mrs. Bennet was a woman in her early forties, who often forced conversation on her husband.

Mr. Bennet replied that he had not, though this was not strictly true.

“But it is,” returned she; “for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it.”

Mr. Bennet made no answer. The surest way to annoy his wife—which was a source of endless entertainment for him—was to say nothing.

“Do not you want to know who has taken it?” cried his wife impatiently. He had to listen to her, he had to act, for they had five daughters, and if Mr. Bennet died, they would lose the house and be thrown out on the streets. Maybe, the new tenant, Mr. Bingley, would marry one of their daughters and save them from this fate. Jane would serve well, as she was the oldest and most handsome, though the other four daughters would also be an acceptable solution, should Mr. Bingley be drawn instead to Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty, or Lydia.

Now that was a truly intolerable passage. If you start your story in medias res, don’t do that. Do it like Jane Austen did it.

Writing Exercises - Jane Austen Writing Lessons

Exercise 1:

Take a novel that you’ve never read, and start reading it several chapters in. Or, take a movie you’ve never seen and start at least 15 or 20 minutes in.

As you read or watch, how do you figure out what’s going on? How do you orient yourself? How did you learn about the characters, and what can you conclude about what happened previously?

Write about your experience doing this in the comments, and what this teaches us about starting in medias res.

Exercise 2:

Some stories that begin in medias res are nonlinear—they do not take a straightforward path through time, or in other words, they do use a sequential structure.

The most common nonlinear structure is to start in the middle of the story for the prologue or an opening chapter, then to leap back in time and tell the story from start to finish.

There are many stories that use more complicated nonlinear structures, moving us back and forth from what point to another. This requires a very close attention to craft, clues embedded in the narrative that keep the reader oriented within time (unless part of the point is to disorient them), and a purposeful approach to juxtaposing one scene with another.

Choose a story that you like to tell people about something that happened in your life—an embarrassing moment, how you met a significant other, etc. Now write down the story using a nonlinear—yet still cohesive—structure.

Exercise 3:

Take a short story or a novel that you’ve written that begins with exposition. Take a few minutes and experiment with reorganizing the story so it starts in the middle of things. How late could you start the story? What details can you weave in later?

#11: Use Exposition to Set the Stage

August 26, 2020/0 Comments/in Jane Austen Writing Lessons /by Katherine Cowley

Soniah Kamal’s novel Unmarriageable, an incredible retelling of Pride and Prejudice in modern-day Pakistan, opens with Alysba Binat (our Elizabeth counterpart) teaching Pride and Prejudice at an English-speaking high school in Pakistan. In the beginning scene, she has her students—all female—write their own first lines inspired by the first line of Pride and Prejudice, their own “truths universally acknowledged.” As Alys leads the discussion, she brings up double-standards for men and women, explains that women’s independence is not a Western idea and has roots in their own culture, and raises the possibility that a woman’s sole purpose is not to marry and have children.

One of the ninth graders arrives late to class, a diamond engagement ring on her hand, and eventually the students turn the questions to Alys—why are you not married?

“Unfortunately, I don’t think any man I’ve met is my equal, and neither, I fear, is any man likely to think I’m his. So, no marriage for me.”

This scene sets up the core conflict of the novel—will Alys find her equal and eventually marry? It also sets up Alys’ personality, her quest to educate the young women of her community, and the cultural context in which she lives. In the first two chapters we also learn of her conflicts with the principal, information about her four sisters, how the family has lost their fortune and gotten into the financial straits that require the two oldest sisters to work, and we get a sense of the city and where it’s wealth and poverty are located. All this is so the stage is set, so that when the inciting incident disrupts Alys’ life and moves her on her journey (in the form of an invitation to a huge wedding where they will meet Bingla and Darsee), we as an audience are ready for it.

This is exposition, the setting of the stage for the story in order to provide important background information to the reader about the characters, their history, and their world.

As discussed in the lesson on plot structure and external journeys, the exposition shows the world in stasis, and it requires the inciting incident to launch the external journey of the plot and the internal journey of character transformation.

According to Oxford Languages, the word exposition comes from the Latin verb exponere, which means to “expose, publish, [and] explain.”

exponere = to expose, to publish, to explain

Good exposition should:

Give us an understanding of the main character, and possibly of other characters
Present key details from the character’s past and history
Provide enough worldbuilding (details about the world in which the character lives, and how it functions) to orient the reader
Focus on details that will demonstrate the disruptiveness of the inciting incident
Subtly raise themes and issues which will explored throughout the story

The first four paragraphs of Jane Austen’s novel Emma provide the exposition for the story. We begin with the opening line:

Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.

This quickly paints an image of Emma’s character, her high place in society, and her general satisfaction with life.

In the second paragraph we learn the following, which brings up key details from Emma’s past and sets up the world and her place in it:

Emma is the second daughter
Her sister is married and gone
She is mistress of the house (or basically, the female manager of it)
Her father is “affectionate” and “indulgent”
Her mother died when she was very young
Her governess acted as a replacement mother figure in her life

That’s a lot for one two-sentence paragraph: Jane Austen manages to swiftly set the stage.

The third paragraph goes into more details on the governess, Miss Taylor, because these details will demonstrate the disruptiveness of the inciting incident:

Miss Taylor has been with the family for 16 years
She is more of a friend or sister figure than a governess
She does not restrain or direct Emma (and has not for quite some time)
“They had been living together as friend and friend very mutually attached, and Emma doing just what she liked; highly esteeming Miss Taylor’s judgment, but directed chiefly by her own.”

The fourth paragraph raises the themes and issues which will be explored throughout the story. In this case, it’s a look at the flaws in Emma’s character, and how these flaws will drive the narrative:

The real evils indeed of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself: these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to her many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so unperceived, that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with her.

By the time we reach the fifth paragraph, all the essential details have been explained, and we are prepared for the inciting incident: Miss Taylor’s marriage.

We learn plenty of other details of backstory as the novel progresses—details about the past and about Emma’s relationships with others in her community—but these are not included in the initial exposition, because they are not essential for setting the stage.

Sometimes exposition—this setting of the stage for the reader—takes several chapters, as in the example of Unmarriageable. Other times, it takes a few paragraphs, such as in Emma. The next lesson will discuss stories that start in medias res, at the moment of the inciting incident, or sometimes even after the inciting incident, and address how exposition can be incorporated in small amounts as the story progresses.

Regardless of the manner in which the exposition is presented, it sets the stage for the story and orients the reader.

Exercise 1: In the beginning of Emma, Jane Austen uses an omniscient storyteller point of view. She sets forth the character, the world, and the situation through the perspective of a storyteller introducing her cast. The narrator is insightful and interesting, and is unafraid to comment on her characters and their attributes.

Brainstorm a new character by choosing and name and writing down three of their defining characteristics, attributes, or interests.

Set a timer for 15 minutes, and draft a brief exposition which uses an omniscient storyteller point of view. This should set the stage for the character and their world.

Exercise 2: In Unmarriageable, Soniah Kamal uses a close third person point of view. She includes the same sort of expository details as Austen does in Emma, but she reveals them through use of a scene. (Jane Austen does uses this approach—providing exposition through a scene—in some of her novels.)

Use the same character and characteristics/attributes/interests from exercise 1. Instead of sharing these details from a storyteller perspective, figure out how to reveal these details organically through a scene—have these demonstrated through the character’s actions or interactions. Set a timer for 15 minutes and write an opening scene that provides exposition.

Note: providing exposition through a scene is currently the most common approach in writing, though there are books still being published that open with the perspective of a storyteller setting the stage.)

Exercise 3:

Option 1: For a new story, brainstorm elements that may be useful for include in the exposition.

Who is the main character?
What about the character’s past informs who they are today?
Who are the other key characters?
What do readers need to understand about the world?
What themes or issues could be raised that will be explored throughout the story?
What details about the character and the world could be included in the exposition that will contrast and show the disruptiveness of the inciting incident?

Once you have brainstormed, consider what absolutely must be revealed in the exposition, and what can be revealed later. Most details about the character and the world can be revealed, piece by piece, later in the story, so choose what is both the most essential and the most interesting way to take us into the world and the perspective of the main character.

Option 2:

If you have already drafted a story, analyze what you included as part of the exposition. Label each detail with categories that could include things like “character attribute,” “character history,” “supporting character,” “relationship,” “worldbuilding,” “theme,” etc. Are there any details that could be saved for later in the story? Are any details that are missing that would demonstrate how the character’s world is disrupted by the inciting incident?

#10: Use a Reader-Writer Contract to Create a Satisfying Resolution

August 19, 2020/0 Comments/in Jane Austen Writing Lessons /by Katherine Cowley

Andrew Davies’ Sanditon, a recent TV adaptation of Jane Austen’s uncompleted novel, aired in 2019 in the UK and 2020 in the US. It has been rather polarizing for viewers (the Twitter and Facebook arguments have been heated!). Among those who finished the series, there have been two major reactions: the first group is disappointed by the final episode, and the second group is ravenous for a second season. (Personally, I would love a second season—#SaveSandition.)

What unites both groups is a sense that the promises made at the beginning of the show have not yet been fulfilled. Whether that leads to disappointment or a desire for more so that the promises can be fulfilled (a Jane Austen heroine always gets her man!), it teaches an important principle of writing:

Audiences have expectations about what makes a satisfying conclusion or resolution for any given story, and these expectations are based on implied promises made by the writers of stories.

Note: many of these expectations are based on the standard plot structure discussed in Jane Austen Writing Lesson #4.

The Reader-Writer Contract

I first learned about the reader-writer contract in an introduction to film class that I took my freshman year of college. The principles, though, apply just as well to literature as to film.

The reader-writer contract is an agreement between the reader and the writer of a text.

The reader promises to suspend disbelief and invest their time and attention in the story. (Sometimes, the reader also makes a financial investment.)

The writer promises to weave an engaging, entertaining story that delivers on commitments made at the beginning of the story, including, but not limited to:

Genre
Plot
Character
Style
Point of View

The Reader-Writer Contract of Jane Austen’s “A History of England”

When Jane Austen was sixteen years old, she wrote a short nonfiction text called “The History of England from the reign of Henry the 4^th to the Death of Charles the 1st.” You can read it online or in book form. She did not write it with the intent of publishing it: like much of her juvenilia (her works written as a child/teen), the intent was to share and perform it with her family. “The History of England” was written in November 1791, when she was not quite sixteen years old.

We’ll examine the beginning of “The History of England,” consider how the reader-writer contract sets up its promises, and then look at how these promises are fulfilled to create a satisfying resolution.

The Title and Byline

Jane Austen Writing Lessons: Title Page to Jane Austen's The History of England

The title page Jane Austen wrote by hand for “The History of England” (she copied this into her second notebook of writings from her youth, which can be viewed online at The British Library).

The full title of the piece is “The History of England from the reign of Henry the 4^th to the death of Charles the 1^st.” This is a very standard title for a serious history written in the 1790s. Of course, immediately after the title comes the byline:

By a partial, prejudiced, and ignorant Historian.

Before the piece begins, we also receive this note:

N.B. There will be very few dates in this history.

Already, Austen has established genre expectations and tone: this is a parody of standard histories. This is not a text we should turn if we truly want to learn about British history. The admission that the historian author is “partial, prejudiced, and ignorant” is clever and immediately attracts us to the speaker—despite her alleged ignorance, we immediately want to know what she has to say.

The First Paragraph

Jane Austen's Handwritten Text -- Henry the 4th

Another handwritten page by Jane Austen, from The British Library.

Jane Austen continues to establish the reader-writer contract in the first paragraph:

Henry the 4th ascended the throne of England much to his own satisfaction in the year 1399, after having prevailed on his cousin & predecessor Richard the 2d to resign it to him, & to retire for the rest of his Life to Pomfret Castle, where he happened to be murdered. It is to be supposed that Henry was married, since he had certainly four sons, but it is not in my power to inform the Reader who was his wife. Be this as it may, he did not live for ever, but falling ill, his son the Prince of Wales came and took away the crown; whereupon, the King made a long speech, for which I must refer the Reader to Shakespeare’s Plays, & the Prince made a still longer. Things being thus settled between them the King died, & was succeeded by his son Henry who had previously beat Sir William Gascoigne.

This firmly establishes the point of view of the speaker, her (intentionally) biased relationship with the subject matter, and the humor created as a result.

Promises Made and Kept

Swiftly, in the beginning of the piece, our expectations have been set, and the reader-writer contract has been forged. Here are a few of the promises that have been made:

Genre: Parody/satire, with the effect of creating humor and commentary, both on these figures in history, and on the persona of a historian
Plot: marriages, deaths, killings, and random details about a series of rulers from Henry the 4^th to Charles the 1^st.
Character: the characters of the past are set forth, but the narrator herself seems to be a character
Style: playful, amusing
Point of view: first person, ignorant “historian” (not simply a reader, but someone making a claim that despite their ignorance, they still deserve the title “historian”)

These promises, having been made at the start, are kept and built upon throughout the piece.

A few of my favorite lines demonstrate this quite well:

“This unfortunate Prince lived so little a while that nobody had time to draw his picture.”

“Tho’ inferior to her lovely Cousin the Queen of Scots, [she] was yet an amiable young woman & famous for reading Greek while other people were hunting.”

“He was beheaded, of which he might with reason have been proud, had he known that such was the death of Mary Queen of Scotland; but as it was impossible that he should be conscious of what had never happened, it does not appear that he felt particularly delighted with the manner of it.”

The Satisfying Conclusion relies on these initial promises

In order for the conclusion of a story to be satisfying, it must fulfill the promises that it has made.

The following is the final paragraph of Jane Austen’s “History”:

The Events of this Monarch’s reign are too numerous for my pen, and indeed the recital of any Events (except what I make myself) is uninteresting to me; my principal reason for undertaking the History of England being to prove the innocence of the Queen of Scotland, which I flatter myself with having effectually done, and to abuse Elizabeth, tho’ I am rather fearful of having fallen short in the latter part of my Scheme. —. As therefore it is not my intention to give any particular account of the distresses into which this King was involved through the misconduct & Cruelty of his Parliament, I shall satisfy myself with vindicating him from the Reproach of arbitrary & tyrannical Government with which he has often been charged. This, I feel, is not difficult to be done, for with one argument I am certain of satisfying every sensible & well disposed person whose opinions have been properly guided by a good Education — & this argument is that he was a Stuart.

Austen maintains the genre, tone, point of view, etc., but she goes further: she takes the parody to its satisfying conclusion by throwing aside the cloak of a historian’s supposed neutrality, directly stating her skewed intentions, and closing with an unsupported, fallacious argument.

In Conclusion

Typically, the Reader-Writer contract should be established within the first 10-20% of a story. We need buy-in and commitment from our readers.

If you went to the movie theater to watch a romantic comedy and half-way through it transformed into a zombie film, you would probably walk out, unless there had been clues planted at the beginning of the film that a zombie film was coming.

Cover of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

Notice that the novel Pride and Prejudice and Zombies begins to establish the contract of a not-so-traditional Jane Austen story through the cover and the opening line:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.”

While the contract should be established quickly, this doesn’t mean you have to give everything away at the beginning of the story. There can be plenty of twists and turns, grand reveals and surprises, new characters and subplots—in fact, readers expect these. But if there is a large shift, hints of it must be sprinkled near the beginning. And most importantly, to create a satisfying resolution at the end of the story, the resolution must fulfill the promises set up at the beginning of the story.

It’s like ordering at a restaurant. If you order a vegetarian meal, the meal better not have chicken in it. It’s fine to defy expectations, push genre limits, experiment and break rules, but you must be aware of the contract you are establishing with the reader, and if you want a satisfying conclusion, you must find a way to keep that contract.

Exercise 1: Choose a book, film, or TV show that you have never read or watched before—this should be new for you. Now read or watch the first 10% of the book/film/first episode.

Before you read or watch more, try to figure out the reader-writer contract for this story.

What promises has the writer made?
What is the genre, and how does the story treat the genre? (firmly in genre, parodying the genre, mix of two genres, etc.)
What expectations do you have for plot and character?
What is the point of view? What is the writer’s style?

Read or watch the rest of the story, and then evaluate how it met your expectations. Was the reader-writer contract kept? Was the story effective for you as a reader/viewer? Did anything defy what was established in the reader-writer contract, and if so, was it effective?

Exercise 2: Create a template Reader-Writer Contract that works for an entire category, genre, or subgenre of writing. Make sure that this category, genre, or subgenre is one that you write or would like to write.

Sample categories:

Literary
Genre fiction
Poetry
Creative nonfiction

Sample genres:

Romance
Science fiction
Mystery
Thriller
Cooking
Biography

Sample subgenres:

Regency romance
Urban fantasy
Bildungsroman
Popular history
True crime

Once you have chosen a category, genre, or subgenre, make a reader-writer’s contract. Consider standard characteristics, plot expectations (some categories/genres have very fixed expectations for plot events, while the expectations are more loose for others), character, style, point of view, and anything else that might make up part of a standard reader-writer contract for this category/genre/subgenre.

Exercise 3: We expect large promises to be fulfilled—if the story is a romance, the main couple should be together by the end of the story. As readers and viewers, we also love it when small promises are fulfilled. If the character is searching for a good taco several times throughout the story, it’s going to be really satisfying if they get that good taco by the end of the story.

Consider one of your own stories, that you have either drafted or are currently planning.

What are tiny promises that either have been made or could be made near the beginning of the novel? (Think “good taco” level promises—this could be something related to the main character, a minor character, etc.)

How and where could these promises be fulfilled?

#8: Use Setting to Influence Plot and Character

August 5, 2020/0 Comments/in Jane Austen Writing Lessons /by Katherine Cowley

One of the most famous scenes from the book Emma occurs at Box Hill, a hill popular as a sightseeing attraction both in Jane Austen’s time and today. (Sadly, visiting Box Hill is an uncompleted item on my bucket list.)

A view from Box Hill by Benjamin Rusholme (Creative Commons license).

In this scene, Emma’s flaws are brought to the forefront: in an attempt to be clever and keep attention on herself, Emma is cruel to Miss Bates.

“Ladies and gentlemen—I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say…that she requires something very entertaining of each of you….[she] demands from each of you either one thing very clever…two things moderately clever[,] or three things very dull indeed, and she engages to laugh heartily at them all.”

“Oh, very well,” exclaimed Miss Bates, “then I need not be uneasy. ‘Three things very dull indeed.’ That will just do for me, you know. I shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth, shan’t I—(looking round with the most good-humoured dependence on everybody’s assent)—Do not you all think I shall?”

Emma could not resist.

“Ah! ma’am, but there may be difficulty. Pardon me—but you will be limited as to number—only three at once.”

Miss Bates, deceived by the mock ceremony of her manner, did not immediately catch her meaning; but, when it burst on her, it could not anger, though a slight brush showed that it could pain her.

“Ah!—well—to be sure. Yes, I see what she means, (turning to Mr. Knightley,) and I will try to hold my tongue. I must make myself very disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend.”

This scene’s effectiveness is dependent on its setting for two reasons:

This setting has brought all of these characters together.
The setting has created a set of trying circumstances for the characters.

In fiction, the setting of a scene should always be an intentional choice.

In Emma, many of the scenes do occur in Emma’s home, Hartfield. This is very deliberate: in many ways, Emma is trapped by having a hypochondriac as a father (the narrator calls him a “valetudinarian”). Yet there is still a large amount of variability in the settings, even if many of them happen at home or close to home. At seven miles away, Box Hill is the farthest Emma goes from home over the course of the novel, and this is a significant event for the characters, a day planned well in advance.

Setting influences plot. characters.

The choice of the setting should influence both the plot and the characters.

The narrator describes it as a “very fine day for Box Hill,” and everyone commences the seven-mile journey there in good spirits:

Seven miles were travelled in expectation of enjoyment, and every body had a burst of admiration on first arriving; but in the general amount of the day there was deficiency. There was a languor, a want of spirits, a want of union, which could not be got over.

Much of the tension of the scene is caused by contrast between the high expectations for Box Hill and the lack of enjoyment and feeling. Two hours are spent walking around the hill and seeing the sights, yet throughout the entire time, they are plagued by division and separation. In Emma’s opinion, people are behaving in a manner that is “dull” and “insufferable.”

Perhaps it is this struggle with the setting that brings Emma to an internal lowness that invites her to act in an outwardly low manner. (When I am tired, hungry, or overheated, I definitely lose some of my charming personality.)

After her rudeness, the group continues the conversation for a few more minutes but soon breaks apart:

Even Emma grew tired at last of flattery and merriment, and wished herself rather walking quietly about with any of the others, or sitting almost alone, and quite unattended to, in tranquil observation of the beautiful views beneath her.

Yet she does not have the opportunity to enjoy the beauty: in the next sentence, the carriages arrive. In a moment where they are alone, Mr. Knightley reproaches Emma for her behavior.

"How Could You Be So Unfeeling?" -Mr. Knightley

“How Could You Be So Unfeeling?” Knightley reproaches Emma in the 2020 film Emma. (Gif from Tenor.)

After this confrontation by Knightley, which once again occurs in stark contrast to the beautiful surroundings, Emma feels the full weight of guilt. The chapter ends with the following line:

Emma felt the tears running down her cheeks almost all the way home, without being at any trouble to check them, extraordinary as they were.

A well-chosen setting can have a huge influence on the plot and the characters, and the way in which the setting is described provides a lens into the viewpoint character’s thoughts and emotions.

Exercise 1:

Read the following dialogue, which will become part of a short break-up scene:

“I just don’t think it’s going to work out between us,” said Amisha.

“I’m not worried,” said Jesse. “We always get through things.”

“Yes, we could get through this,” said Amisha. “But that’s not what I want. I’m done. Done with this, done with us.”

Now choose two different settings and write two versions of this short scene (two to three paragraphs each). Make sure to not only add description, but also movement and action. Consider what they might be doing in the setting (i.e. cooking dinner in Amisha’s kitchen), how the characters would describe the setting, and how the setting will impact how both the characters and the reader.

Example settings:

A kitchen
The beach
A freeway
A museum
A soccer game

Exercise 2:

Choose one of your favorite books or movies, and without rereading or rewatching it, make a list of as many settings as you can from the story. These can be broad settings (i.e. England, the town of Highbury, etc.) or more specific settings (i.e. Mr. Elton’s house, the strawberry patch, etc.).

Once your list is complete, consider the following question: How does the setting impact the plot and the characters in this story?

Exercise 3:

Option 1: Use a scene that you plan to write in a book or short story. Come up with three possible settings that could work well at fulfilling the purposes of the scene. For each setting, list the key attributes of the setting, the advantages of using the setting, and the disadvantages of using the setting.

Settings Exercise -- Jane Austen Writing Lessons

Option 2: Take a scene that you have already written and rewrite it using a new setting. Which do you prefer? What are the advantages and disadvantages of each one?

#7: Create Multiple Relationship Arcs to Show Your Character’s Journey in Relation to Those Around Them

July 29, 2020/0 Comments/in Jane Austen Writing Lessons /by Katherine Cowley

Theatrical adaptations of Jane Austen’s novels often eliminate characters in order to shorten, to focus, and/or to interpret the story. Simon Reade’s play Pride and Prejudice eliminates Colonel Fitzwilliam. Kate Hamill’s play Pride and Prejudice eliminates not only Colonel Fitzwilliam, but also Kitty and the Gardiners. Isobel McArthur’s play Pride and Prejudice (sort of) eliminates Colonel Fitzwilliam, but adds a group of named servants: Anne, Clara, Effie, Flo, Maisie, and Tillie. Melissa Leilani Larsen’s adaptation keeps Colonel Fitzwilliam (so if you’re a Colonel fan, this is the one for you); Mrs. Gardiner is maintained as a referenced character but is never seen on stage.

When characters are eliminated in an adaptation, either plot elements must be eliminated or something or someone else must step in to serve the missing role. For instance, in the adaptations that eliminate Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth must find out through other means that Mr. Darcy separated Jane and Mr. Bingley. (In one adaptation, Darcy himself tells her.)

The chosen cast of characters heavily influences the plot of any novel. Yet characters do more than that:

Each character can help illuminate the main character and their journey for the reader.

In Pride and Prejudice, the main character is Elizabeth Bennet, and the core relationship of the story is with Mr. Darcy, because it is through their relationship that we see most of Elizabeth’s change and growth through the story. Their relationship arc is a definitive component of Elizabeth’s journey.

Elizabeth also experiences relationship arcs with a number of other characters: her relationships with these people progress, develop, change, shift, deepen, weaken, experience betrayal, are challenged, etc.

Characters who have relationship arcs with Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice:

Jane
Lydia
Charlotte Lucas
Wickham
Bennet
Bennet
Collins
Lady Catherine de Bourgh
The Gardiners

There are a number of other characters in the novel whose relationships with Elizabeth don’t change or have an arc over the course of the novel, including:

Mary
Kitty
Phillips
Anne de Bourgh
Sir William Lucas
Lady Lucas

While not all characters need to have a relationship arc with the main character, incorporating multiple relationship arcs in a story makes a richer world and makes the main character seem more complex and nuanced. Relationship arcs show your main character’s journey in relation to those around them.

(Note: There are books with a single character, or just two or three characters, but most books include more. For those books with only a few characters, these relationship arcs tend to be especially important. In short stories it is typically better to only include a handful of characters.)

Exercise 1:

Make a list of people with whom you have interacted with in the last week, either in person or otherwise (phone call, letter, digitally, etc.). Put these people into categories (friends, family, work, school, mortal enemies, acquaintances, salespeople, etc.).

Draw a star next to the three people whose relationships with you have changed or developed the most within the last month or year.

Exercise 2:

Create a list of your favorite supporting characters from books or movies. These should not be main characters, but rather small or medium characters that play a part in the story. For each character you have listed, write down a few attributes that you like about them, as well as details about their relationship with the main character. If you’re willing, share one of these characters in the comments.

Exercise 3:

Option 1: If you are planning out a story, make a chart of character relationships that are important to your main character. This is a standard chart but can be adapted for the type of story you are telling (for example, a mystery novel should have a column titled “suspects”). Some categories may only include one person, while some categories may include a number of individuals.

Relationships Chart: Jane Austen Writing Lessons #7

It is likely that not all of these characters will be in your story, or at least not all of them will play crucial roles in the story. Some of these characters will be main characters, while others will be supporting. Underline the characters who will be most instrumental to the plot, and highlight the characters who will have the most important relationship arcs with the main character.

Option 2: If you are revising a story, use Excel, Google Spreadsheets, or paper and pen to chart your characters over the course of your novel. One way to do this is to put an “X” for every time they are seen in a chapter and an “x” for every time they are mentioned. Another way to do this is to write a brief description of the role each character plays in each chapter. Here’s a sample of what it might look like if I was tracking characters in the first few chapters of Pride and Prejudice.

Pride and Prejudice Character Tracking: Jane Austen Writing Lessons #7

Once you’ve completed your chart, you can use it to self-diagnose areas where you can improve. For example, if one of your characters is supposed to have an important relationship arc but they are not present for a six-chapter segment, that could be an important thing to incorporate in your revisions.

Tag Archive for: plot

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Good exposition should:

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In fiction, the setting of a scene should always be an intentional choice.

Setting influences plot. characters.

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Each character can help illuminate the main character and their journey for the reader.

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