Breaking the fourth wall

I just finished reading War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells. It was a good read – a bit slow – but better than Alice in Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz. There were a few parts that were really intense, and the ending was great. I like how the story was resolved, I just wish it hadn’t taken so long to get there.

But that’s not what I’m writing about today. Today, I’m asking you, “Is breaking the fourth wall a good thing or a bad thing?”

First, a definition of a fourth wall:

An imaginary wall (as at the opening of a modern stage proscenium) that keeps performers from recognizing or directly addressing their audience

This obviously mostly applies to plays and such, but I think it’s appropriate for books as well (correct me if I’m wrong – maybe there’s another term we use?).

Second, an example. There are plenty of examples in War of the Worlds where the narrator directly talks to his audience, the readers. And plenty of other books have done this too. The first book in the Kane Chronicles, The Red Pyramid, is written in a way that consistently reminds you that the narrators are directly talking to you. This is especially evident in the first few paragraphs:

We only have a few hours, so listen carefully.

If you’re hearing this story, you’re already in danger. Sadie and I might be your only chance.

Go to the school. Find the locker. I won’t tall you which school or which locker, because if you’re the right person, you’ll find it. The combination is 12/32/33. By the time you finish listening, you’ll know what those numbers mean. Just remember the story we’re about to tell you isn’t complete yet. How it ends will depend on you.

You can see that the narrator, Carter, talks directly to the person reading the book. The author, Rick Riordan, purposely breaks that invisible barrier and simultaneously brings the reader into the world of the novel, and yet makes them something separate.

The point is that although you can still feel a part of the story, it’s hard to imagine yourself as the main character if he or she is talking directly to you.

So, here’s the question again: ”Is breaking the fourth wall a good thing or a bad thing?”

I don’t really have a definitive answer. I don’t think there is one. The safe answer would probably be that is depends on the circumstance. Does the story call for it? Does it feel right? Does it hinder the story or does it help bring out the personality of your characters?

And, of course, it’s all about personal preference.

Instead, I just want to take a moment to look at the pros and cons. Because, like everything else, there are some great aspects to breaking down that wall. But there are some problems with it as well.

THE PROS:

1. You’re made a part of the story. The characters come alive when they talk directly to you, and you feel like you’re actively taking part in the narration.
   
2. It really grabs your attention. An opening like the one above really hooks you in. It sets the stakes and makes you feel like everything is on the line, like you have to act RIGHT NOW in order to save the main characters. That can be really fun.
3. It makes the characters more real. In War of the Worlds, the main character talks as if he’s writing you a letter – a full account of what happened to him. He could be real. He could be a friend or he could be some stranger that handed you a notebook about this surreal event that occurred a few months back.

THE CONS:

1. You can’t be the main character. As soon as the narrator starts talking to you, it takes you out of the story. You’re no longer a part of that specific narration. You can imagine you exist in that world, but no longer can you put yourself in the shoes of the main character in the same way you could if that fourth wall was still solidly in place.
2. It takes you out of the story. I know I already said this in the previous point, but it’s worth mentioning on its own. When that fourth wall is broken, it reminds you that the book is just a book. We so often lose ourselves in a novel, but breaking the wall is like when an actor looks directly into the camera. It’s a little jarring because it reminds you that you’re really just sitting in your living room looking at them through a television screen.
3. It can imply telling. Not always, but sometimes. If your narrator is speaking directly to the audience, it means he’s having a conversation with them – albeit a one sided conversation – and that often means he’s telling them some sort of information that might be better if he had shown it through his actions.

As you can see, there are pros and cons on both sides. Some pretty good ones too. Breaking the fourth wall can mean having a pretty incredible hook, but it might also bring your readers out of the story.

Should you do it? Maybe. It works really effectively in the Kane Chronicles series. I thought it worked fairly well in War of the Worlds, too, but it was far less necessary. It depends on your characters. On the premise. On the medium through which your characters are telling the story (ie. Sadie and Carter Kane are recording themselves). There are certainly a lot of factors to consider, and a decision to break the fourth wall should be made on a case-by-case basis.

Have you watched or read anything that broke the fourth wall? Was it effective? Have you ever broken the fourth wall in one of your stories? Why did you decide to do it?

Book Recommendation: ‘17 & Gone’

I’ve become such a champion of this book in such a short amount of time. I read it for Hypable’s Book Club, which is part of the Book Hype podcast. We’ve read The Darkest Minds and then City of a Thousand Dolls. And they were good. Not great. Not perfect. But they were pretty good. I enjoyed them.

17 & Gone by Nova Ren Suma is a different story all together. Literally, actually. It’s a completely different genre with a completely different purpose. It gets into your head and messes with you.

And that’s one of the reasons why I love it.

I’m not going to tell you much about it, except for what the official blurb offers. And the reason is that this book should be experienced without knowing anything about it. You should be totally blind going in. Only then will you get the full impact of the story. It’s very real and very raw. It should be read as if it were a true account, because only then, I think, you can get the full impact of the story.

Here’s the synopsis:

Seventeen-year-old Lauren is having visions of girls who have gone missing. And all these girls have just one thing in common—they are 17 and gone without a trace. As Lauren struggles to shake these waking nightmares, impossible questions demand urgent answers: Why are the girls speaking to Lauren? How can she help them? And… is she next? As Lauren searches for clues, everything begins to unravel, and when a brush with death lands her in the hospital, a shocking truth emerges, changing everything.

I don’t think this is the type of book everyone will like. The writing is excellent, as is the storytelling, but the story is rough, and there’s a lot of death and sadness. It’s not a book you can particularly say you enjoy, but I think it makes a big impact, and that’s the sort of thing it was meant to do. It’s supposed to bother you and send chills down your spine. And boy does it deliver.

If you’ve read the book, join me in the comments for a little discussion. To those that haven’t read it, note that the comment section may not be spoiler free.

We’re going to be discussing this on an upcoming episode of Book Hype, so stay tuned for that as well. I always release the episodes on my Facebook page, or you can check out my ROW80 updates I post every Sunday morning.

Have you ever read a book that you love but don’t particularly enjoy because it’s so heavy? I thought Tuesdays with Morrie was like that too.

Reading the classics is hard

I always feel kind of bad thinking this. I mean, I’m an avid reader, AND I’m a writer. Shouldn’t I be completely in love with the classics? It’s like an art history student going up to a painting by Michelangelo and saying, “Meh.”

Some people are going to look at you funny.

But I can’t help it! There are a few “classics” I do enjoy. 1984 is one of my all-time favorite books. I love Lord of the Flies. But beyond that? There are maybe only a few others.

If you read my post about audiobooks on Monday, you’ll know I’ve been using them to listen to the classics because it’s a lot easier for me to get through them that way. I’ve read both Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland  and Through the Looking Glass, and I’m just about done with The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

And you know what? I didn’t really like them.

Okay, so they’re imaginative, and they’re inspiring and they’ve launched TV shows and movies and toys and a million other things. But I found the writing to be juvenile and the descriptions, in a lot of cases, to be pointless.

Now, this isn’t totally the fault of the author. And this is sort of the point I want to drive home. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was written in 1865. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz was published in 1900. These times are a world away from ours. Certain things were expected in stories – things that would be looked down upon by today’s standards. So many descriptions go on for pages and pages and pages. Nowadays? That’d land your MS in the circular file.

So, okay. The classics are hard to relate to. The writing is not the same as we’d expect if we were to pick up a contemporary novel. But what about the story? Wouldn’t that be its saving grace?

Yes, I think that’s where a classic is saved. If you can get through all the junk and read for the meaning of the story, that’s where the love for the novel comes into play. Let’s face it, if you actually enjoy reading A Tale of Two Cities, you might be a bit of a masochist. The writing is so roundabout, so dragged out, that I found myself able to get through only a few pages at a time. (This was before I discovered the joy of audiobooks, which probably would’ve brought this story more to life than my imagination was able to.)

But once you read the words and reflect back on the story, the love for the character arc and journey the characters went on becomes apparent. It’s only after the fact that the story becomes what we treasure. While we’re reading it? It’s torture. At least, that’s how I feel.

And sometimes I think people love the classics just because they’re classics. And I don’t get that. Maybe that’s why I feel so guilty when I say I have a hard time getting through them – shouldn’t I love them all if reading and writing are such a big part of my life?

Maybe. But maybe not. I think everyone should read the classics and try to understand them. But you don’t have to like them. A like for those stories, just like any other story, is subjective. And it isn’t required. Just because you don’t like Macbeth doesn’t mean you haven’t read it and doesn’t mean you don’t understand it. It just means you didn’t like it. Plain and simple.

Or, at least, that’s what I’m telling myself to ease the guilt.

What do you guys think? Are you advocates of the classics, or do you have trouble with them too? Are there any that you absolutely love? Are there any that you feel guilty about not liking?

The pros and cons of audiobooks

Yesterday at my check-in for ROW80 I told you guys I started listening to audiobooks. This is actually my first experience with audiobooks, and…I don’t know how I feel about them just yet.

I’m having that same internal struggle I had when I started reading eBooks. I feel like it’s cheating in a way, but at the same time, it’s still the same information. I’m still experiencing a story, even if I’m not reading it myself.

I’ve made a list of pros and cons to figure how I really feel about audiobooks. (The lists are pretty much dead even.) Feel free to chime in and let me know what you think about them or if you have any points to add to my list.

Pros

• More visual: When listening to an audiobook, the story seems to come more alive for me. The verbs are more visual. You can’t focus on the words and the way they look, which I guess is what I often do when reading. Instead, you have to focus on the images those words produce in your mind. Now, I always picture a book as I read it, but I realized that with an audiobook, the images just seem to be more vivid.
• Multitasking: This is probably my favorite thing about audiobooks. There are some things I have to do for work or otherwise that, frankly, don’t take a lot of brain power. So I can put on an audiobook while I do these tasks, and not only am I getting work done, but I’m reading too! It’s really a great way to keep myself occupied.
• Personality of the narrator: The personality of the narrator enhances the story a great deal. Sometimes there are multiple narrators, which is always fun, and sometimes it’s just one person. Either way, it’s nice to hear someone else telling you a story. The people who narrate these books are always enthusiastic about them, and it makes for a more interesting experience.
• Read the classics: I have trouble reading all those classics, but I’ve started listening to them as audiobooks and it’s made the experience a lot easier. Not only can I get through one of them a lot quicker (in a couple of hours instead of weeks at a time), but it makes the story come alive in ways I have trouble with when I read it myself. I actually have a lot more to say about classics and why they’re so difficult for me, so look for that blog post later this week. For now, suffice it to say that this makes reading everything I should have already been familiar with a lot easier.

Cons:

• Repetitive: When you read a book, as opposed to listening to it, you don’t notice all the he said, she said dialogue tags. Your eyes just sort of skim over them. But when you have a lengthy dialogue exchange, the repetition of these dialogue days can be quite annoying. This is especially true when you have multiple narrators, because you don’t need this information repeated. Additionally, I find the use of adverbs – when totally necessary in the story – is unnecessary in an audio book. When a narrator says, “The cat climbed up the tree,” he said wryly, his voice already sounds wry. Therefore, the adverbs just get annoying because the narrator’s tone has already implied what a reader would need to know if they were merely reading the book.
• Not good for visual learners: I’m a visual learner, and listening to audiobooks has proven difficult. I have a hard time keeping track of characters, even when there are different voices to help ease the transition. There’s just something about seeing the character name written out that makes it a lot easier to file that information away in my brain.
• Narrator’s interpretations: This does sort of go against what I sent in the list of pros, but I think it is a separate occurrence. Or, at least, it’s dependent on the narrator. When you read a book, that experience is all your own. The voices of the characters fill your head, and you control the way they sound. However, when a narrator reads the book to you, they interpret the inflections and tones of the characters, and this can be a little jarring if you don’t quite agree with them about how a character says some of their dialogue.



• Cheating: I can’t help it. It DOES feel like cheating to me. Or, at the very least, it feels like something completely different from reading a book. Have I truly read Alice in Wonderland? Technically, yes. I’ve experienced the same story everyone else has, despite the fact I’ve listened to it as an audiobook instead of reading it for myself. And, really, there’s nothing wrong with listening to audiobooks. If it gets people to experience a story they would’ve otherwise avoided, then I’m all for it! Perhaps this point goes back to the fact that I’m a visual learner and I have trouble cementing the details into my brain when I just listen to the story. I don’t feel as closely connected to it.

Do you listen to audiobooks? Do you think it’s “cheating”? Are there certain books, like the classics, that you’d rather listen to as an audiobook?

How much does an artist ‘owe’ his or her fans?

I’m totally going to preface this by saying it was brought about by the whole Sterek phenomenon with Teen Wolf, but I don’t want to make this about that in particular. (Mostly because the Sterek shippers can be a little intense. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was a little frightened of them.)

But let’s take a look at this on a wider scale.

Say you’ve written a book. Because this is hypothetical and we all love to dream, say it’s your debut book. It does well. Really well. Like, New-York-Times-Best-Seller-seven-figure-deal-and-a-movie-adaptation-in-the-works well.

Hey, it’s happened. Once or twice.

Okay, so you’ve published your book. Fans love it. You have a kick-ass heroine and and a sexy hero. There’s action and adventure, romance and humor. It’s the real deal. You have a massive audience, and they’re clamoring for more. They want a sequel.

No brainer, right?

I mean, if you’ve got more story to tell, and people want to read that story, what’s there to think about?

Not much. But I will ask this – to what extent do you owe your fans a nod in their direction?

Say they really want to see two characters together. You’re not opposed to the idea, and it would work in the story line, but you never really envisioned them together. But you’re fans want it. Like, they really want it.

Envision Tumblr pages dedicated solely to this ‘ship (that’s short for ‘relationship’ for you that aren’t in the know). Fan-fiction. Role playing pages. In depth meta. Angry letters threatening your life if you don’t pair the two of them together in the next book.

Whew. *deep breath* This business can get a little scary if you have overzealous fans.

Now, remember. You’re not opposed to this couple being together, you just never envisioned them as a pairing. So, what do you do? Do you put them together in order to please your audience? Do you owe that to them for loving your work so much? Would you be afraid you’d get more angry letters if you didn’t do what they wanted?

Or would you write what you wanted to write, and to heck with them? It isn’t where you intended the story to go and, by gosh, you’re sticking to your guns. If they don’t like it, they can find another book to read. This is your story, not theirs. You’re the creator, and you’re not going to be influenced by what other people have to say if that’s not what you want for your characters.

And this doesn’t just apply to character pairings. It doesn’t just apply to books either. I think I see it most often with television shows (think Glee). Sometimes the creators pander to the fans. The fans are paying the bills after all, right? So, why not give them what they want?

Unfortunately, or at least in the case of Glee, the story can suffer because of this.

Maybe fans wanted to see your character wandering off into the desert on a horse with no name, but once he got there, your audience decided the desert was boring. A horse with no name is boring. And now your character is boring.

Humans are fickle creatures.

But if you don’t listen to your audience, if you don’t grow and expand and learn from your mistakes, you run the risk of alienating your readers. And that can be a very, very bad thing.

So, what do you do? Put those two characters together and please your fans at the risk of murdering a perfectly good plot line, or do you ignore all those outside influences and stick to what you want to write about, even if that means your audience isn’t happy with the direction you decided to take the series in?

Or is there a balance? Let me know! Leave a comment, and let’s discuss this. (Also, if you’re familiar with Sterek, let me know your thoughts on that matter too.)

Some people just don’t get it

I’m sure you guys will, because you’re a lot like me. Avid readers, avid writers, avid TV and movie watchers. Those characters, they’re real. Not in the physical sense, of course. We’re not crazy. But in the sense that we’ve spent time with these people, we  know their stories, we understand their pain, and we want to see them succeed.

That’s what makes them real. In some ways, we know these characters better than some of our friends. There are no walls when you read a book. There are no secrets once you reach the end. You’re like an invisible watcher, able to sit back and see the events in their lives unfold.

So when someone dies, when someone is rescued, when someone succeeds, it’s sad and exciting and thrilling. Those are real emotions that fake characters produce in you. And if the only reason they’re not real is because they don’t exist in this world, then I don’t buy that.

When you know someone that well, when you care about someone that deeply, when you understand their story so much that it inspires you to be a better human being, that person takes shape and they become real to you.

But some people don’t understand that.

I was having a conversation with a certain someone the other day, and she just didn’t understand why I got so emotionally attached to things. We were talking about StarKid and their latest play, A Very Potter Senior Year. For me, and a lot of other StarKid fans, it was an emotional thing to watch. It was the final installment in their Very Potter trilogy. It was hard to watch because it was over, and I knew those characters would never be coming back for something new. I laughed and I cried in equal measures.

This person just looked at me and said, “Why?”

I didn’t bother explaining. If you don’t get it, you never will. If you’re not invested, you won’t understand how incredibly powerful seeing those characters reach the end of their stories is.

Since I know a lot of you aren’t into StarKid, I’ll put it into perspective. It’s like someone asking you why you’re upset that Fred died. Or Dumbledore. Or Sirius.

If those character deaths didn’t bother you, then there’s no point in explaining. It won’t help, and you won’t feel the things we felt.

(And if those character deaths didn’t bother you, by the way, then you’re doing it wrong. So very wrong.)

What I don’t understand is how you could not get invested in stories like this. This person reads for entertainment, which is fine, but I think she misses a huge part of what it is to be a reader. That investment, pain, and joy that comes from living a character’s life through their actions on the page.

I read for a deeper meaning. I read so that book can change my life. I read to forget about the world, to be sure, but also to understand it.

As corny as it sounds, I think reading is a serious business. Not everyone is meant to be a deep reader, but I struggle with the concept of not reading a book for meaning, depth, and understanding. If I didn’t do that, it just…wouldn’t seem worth it.

What do you think? Do you read for entertainment only, or do you want to take something away from what you read? Do you get so deep into the story that you feel like the characters are real people? Do you feel pain or joy when they do?

Book Recommendation: Affliction Z – Patient Zero

If you like zombies or stories of the zombie apocalypse, I highly recommend you check out Affliction Z: Patient Zero.

The cool thing about this book is that, while zombie stories are nothing new, the concept is still fairly unique to its genre. The zombies are truly frightening. Some of them are those slow, steady shufflers. But others can move faster than you would ever think possible. They keep you on your toes, and this makes the story truly unpredictable.

The story is well written and the characters pop on the page. The beginning was my favorite. It really grabs you and never lets go. The mystery starts right from the first chapter, and it’s a quick and action packed book.

This will be a series of books, and the end of this one sets up its sequel perfectly. I can’t wait to get my hands on the next one and find out how our main characters deal with the zombie apocalypse!

Introducing Book Hype: A podcast every reader and writer should listen to

As most of you know, I write for Hypable.com. I’m also on several podcasts that cover a variety of TV shows. However, one of the podcasts I’m on, Book Hype, actually talks all about – you guessed it – books!

Our first episode was an introduction of sorts, but we also covered the book The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken. In the second episode, we covered both New Adult and self-publishing. It was an interesting thing to talk about, especially given that two of the other hosts are more readers than writers. It gives you a nice little insight into a reader’s mind, and I think all writer’s could benefit from listening to this.

And readers too, of course. The podcast is ONLY bound by the world of books. We’re going to be talking about anything we can come up with, both specific books like in the first episode, general topics like in the second episode, and so much more.

I hope you guys will give it a listen. We’re all just a bunch of book worms that happen to be addicted to podcasting. I think you’ll really enjoy it, both from a reader’s POV and a writer’s POV as well.

And, hey, if you’ve got book or topic suggestions, send them my way and I’ll pass them along!

If you did listen to either episode (or both!), let me know what you thought.

Related question: How do you guys feels about New Adult?

Series vs. Standalone Novels

I’m a series kind of gal. Blame Harry Potter. I just love picking up a novel and knowing that, when I finish it, there will be another one waiting for me. The more, the merrier.

Some of my all-time favorite books are series. The Hunger Games. Percy Jackson and the Olympians. The Lost Years of Merlin. It’s nice to know that when you fully immerse yourself in a world, as we so often do when reading, you don’t need to let it go so quickly. Because that can be painful. Sure, you can re-read a book, but there’s nothing quite like that first go-through when you just have no idea what’s going to happen.

However, I’ve been finding more and more lately that I’m looking for standalone novels. They’re faster to get through – a one and done, if you will. You don’t have to worry about finding the other books or ending on a huge cliff-hanger. The story is open and close, and it allows you to move on to the next one.

There are some drawbacks to being a series reader. First of all, my bookshelves are starting to warp from all the weight. Then there’s the expense. And the inevitable “this wasn’t as good as the first one.” And just like move sequels, it sometimes feels like an author just does a follow up not because the story requires it, but because it’ll put more money in their bank account.

Then again, standalone novels have their downfalls too. Sometimes the story seems incomplete, and you’re disappointed by the lack of answers. Sequels often allow favorite secondary characters to get some time in the spotlight. Single books can’t afford to waste the space on a character that inevitably won’t be getting their own storyline later on down the road.

I’ve come to realize that both have their merits and both have their shortcomings. It depends on my schedule, on my wallet, and on my mood. I still stand by the fact that I prefer series over single novels, but I’m beginning to enjoy the freedom that comes with being able to finish a book and not having to worry about when the next one comes out. (Because, let’s face it, waiting a year for a sequel is pure torture.)

Are you a series person or a standalone person? Do you like trilogies or do you like books that really go for it and have, say, twelve novels in the series? Does it depend on your mood, or do you usually stick to one or the other?

Reading books: Finishing what you’ve started vs. Not wasting your time

We’ve all been there. You’re about a quarter of the way through a book and it’s just dragging. I mean, the characters are okay, and the potential is high, but there’s just something off. You just don’t care.

So, you set the book aside.

But do you ever pick it back up?

If you’re like me, you do. I have a strong inability to let anything go. Sometimes that’s a good thing, sometimes that’s a bad thing. A very, very bad thing.

I would probably be able to read more books if I didn’t feel like I had to finish everything I started. Part of it is the fact that I spent money on the book. I don’t like letting things go to waste. The other part is that, well, how do I know it won’t end well?

Kind of like Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows. The movie was kind of boring two-thirds of the way through, but that final act was strong enough that I went out and bought the DVD when it was released.

And that’s happened to me with books as well. Unlike most people, I suffered through The Casual Vacancy and came out the other side with a positive review of the novel.

Sometimes, I think, we don’t necessarily have to enjoy the book in order to read it. Sometimes we should read things we don’t like in order to find out why. And then there are those rare instances where we may end up liking the story after all.

But I can see why some people wouldn’t want to waste their time. Reading is supposed to be enjoyable. It’s supposed to take you to another land. Why travel to that new place if you hate it? It’s like someone vacationing in the arctic for the winter just for the heck of it.

But I’m what my friend likes to call a completist. I have to finish what I’ve started.

What about you? Do you finish every book you’ve started, or do you put it down if it’s not good enough? What’s your reasoning?