Writing
fiction has developed in me an abiding respect for the unknown in a human
lifetime and a sense of where to look for the threads, how to follow, how to
connect, find in the thick of the tangle what clear line persists. Eudora Welty
I have secrets. How about you?
My secrets, closely guarded, are often tied to regrets and tinged with a fair
dose of shame. They have to do with times I didn’t live up to my personal standards, was humiliated or embarrassed, or made a
promise I couldn’t keep. I also carry other people’s secrets, and try to
guard them as if I’m carrying a baby across an ice field, although when I was
younger, the baby hit the ice more than once.
Let’s think for a few moments
about secrets and revelations in what we write. People read with a desire to discover something
important, perhaps something that has been craftily concealed until just the
right moment, because curiosity and intrigue make the world go round. Humans
are naturally curious, and they long to uncover secrets and delve into the
hidden areas of life.
Although you might believe that
revelation belongs only to genres such as mystery and suspense novels, it is at
the heart of every memoir and novel. Unraveling revelations is part of the
narrative drive that pushes the story forward. Unmasking people and revealing some
essential or hidden truth can provide the story’s high marks and surprises.
But as we know from real life, there are secrets, and then there
are secrets. In fiction and memoir
there are smaller concealments, but usually the secret, truth, or fact not yet
exposed must be worth knowing, must impact the protagonist’s or memoirist’s life,
and must affect some key element in the story such as character arc or outcome.
Important revelations are foreshadowed or hinted at, and
are carefully crafted, layer upon layer to give lend them meaning.
When foreshadowing is inlaid into a
story, suspense is enhanced and the reader needs to keep reading to find out
how things turn out and to quell the uneasiness that the foreshadowing induces.
Once hints or forewarnings have been whispered to the reader, they tingle with appreciation when the truth
or surprise is sprung. Thus, before the
payoffs, including revelations, in fiction and memoir, lay the groundwork so
that they are believable and credible.
A gradually unfolded revelation is at the heart of many
compelling stories you have likely read. In Daphne Du Murier’s Rebecca it was a series of searing truths
about the antagonist. In Shirley Jackson’s The
Lottery it is about a grisly yearly ritual. In Colin Harrison’s
psychological thriller The Havana Room
it is about a secret rite in a secret room and a character’s past cloaked in riddles and subterfuge. In One Flew
Over the Cuckoo’s Nest McMurphy learns that most of his fellow patients
choose to live in the asylum of their own free will. In the film Romancing the Stone the
glittering, huge and oh-so dangerous emerald is at heart of the story, but
isn’t revealed until we’re well into the adventure. In To Kill a Mockingbird the
reader must read the entire book to discover Bo Radley's true nature.
Trust me on this one—the more you hide, the faster your
reader will turn pages. I like to imagine both characters and storylines as
Russian stacking dolls. You keep opening up the doll to reveal one after
another, and then another, until you reach the tiniest doll nested in the
center. And there is a little thrill to opening up the final doll just as there
is in uncovering a series of revelations while reading a good book.
Readers love to work undercover and their need to know is
part curiosity, anxiety and apprehension. This potent mix is a form of arousal
and it causes them to want to solve puzzles and enigmas, delve deep into a
character’s most sheltered heartbreaks and fears, and learn the ugliest facts
about humankind.
If you can craft a story that has mystery or secret to
unravel, along with people or characters who would rather you didn’t know
everything about them, you’ll have won half the battle in creating suspense and
tension. The structure of most book-length fiction and nonfiction is about
events that are going to be uncovered as we go along and subterfuge is simply
part of writing. Readers also like being teased with possibilities, and they
will enjoy a bit of misdirection and experiencing reversals along with the
character or memoirist.
Revelations can occur in many shapes in a story. And, while,
a revelation can provide profound and important information and insights, each doesn’t
necessarily need to change the character or the course of the plot. Now some
revelations will be life-changing, such as if a character learns the identity
of his birth parent or discovers that he was adopted when he always believed
his adopted parents were his birth parents. A character discovering that a
child was born as the result of a rape would be another dramatic and difficult
realization. A revelation can be almost anything-- the identity of a murderer,
a lie, a denial, a longing for vengeance.
Here’s what I think: all secrets matter. If you can, use
them to drive your stories. If you can, think about all the secrets you’ve
known, their pain, the fallout, the shame and the consequences. Write about
secrets in dialogue, stage them in bedroom scenes, in hospital rooms and
foxholes. Think about the pressures that lead up to revealing a secret and
craft a scene or two around these pressures. Then lead your reader slowly,
slowly to the truth.