What is the Objective Correlative?

The objective correlative is a fantastic technique that you can use to create emotion in your writing. It empowers writers to move away from abstraction (i.e. using direct words like angry, sad, or afraid, which are abstract to the reader) and color a character’s emotion with imagery, metaphor, and meaning.

Originally coined as a literary term by T.S. Eliot in his essay on Hamlet, Eliot explains that the objective correlative as:

“…a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events which shall be the formula of that Particular emotion; such that when the external facts, which must terminate in sensory experience, are given, the emotion is immediately evoked” (qtd. in J. A. Cuddon’s Dictionary of Literary Terms, page 647).

I know, that sounds like literary psychobabble, let’s break it down…

Say, your character has experienced a loss and you want to evoke sadness and longing in the reader. Objective correlative is a technique where the character never tells the reader what she is feeling. Instead she evokes that feeling through sensory experiences and description of her environment.

Take a look at this example from Jacqueline Woodson’s novel Beneath a Meth Moon:

“I sat up front with Daddy, stared at the flat land as we drove. Big sky that I couldn’t look up into without thinking about M’lady and Mama. Green land moving fast toward us, then passing us by. Farms and fields. Whole stretches with nothing at all” (44).

What does this passage make you feel? What do you know about the narrator and her emotional state?

For me, the description of the flat land and the big sky gives a sense of being small. The fact that the narrator (Laurel) can’t look up into the sky adds an additional layer of feeling. She’s overwhelmed by something large. Additionally, that large object is invisible and everywhere. Laurel then links this image with M’lady and Mama. Do we know what happened to these two people in this passage? Not necessarily, but we can make a guess from the description of the landscape.

In the remaining sentences of the passage,  the imagery focuses on green land moving past Laurel. A green field is initially a positive image, relating to good health and growth. But it moves fast and Laurel is unable to hold onto the good things, even if she wanted to. The paragraph ends with the final image of flat land stretching out forever with nothing to offer. Can you feel the desperation, sadness, and a loss of hope in this build-up of images? Nowhere does the narrator mention how she feels. Instead she describes her environment, and the unique way she sees these images, evokes her inner state for the reader. This is the objective correlative at work! It’s also a lot more interesting to read than if the author said: Laurel felt depressed.

I think it’s also important to note that characters are seldom self-aware. As humans, we don’t often think to ourselves: “Man, I feel sad!” We simply experience our emotions and live our lives. We don’t reflect on what those emotions are or why we feel them. We act! We observe. We react. Let objective correlative help you to keep your characters authentic, alive, and in the moment.

Try out the objective correlative for yourself, with this great exercise:

Write a scene in which a man describes a body of water (i.e. ocean, river, pond, etc.) after having just murdered someone. However, the man can never mention the murder or any of the details related to the murder. Have fun!

Want to know more about Objective Correlative? Read these great articles:

What Is The Objective Correlative

Meaning and Metaphor

Quote of the Week: Steve Martin

Method Writing

I dyed my hair again! Yes, now I am a lovely shade of peacock blue-green.

It also turns out I’ve been collecting images for my current work-in-progress. The two images on the right are inspirational pictures for one of my characters. Is it a coincidence that I just dyed my hair the same mermaid shade? Perhaps I’ve become a “method writer,” and I need to fully embody my character in order to write authentically!

Does your life mimic your art?

Straitjackets and Outlines

Lately, I’ve been dealing with my love/hate relationship with plot and outlines. I recently saw the quote below on Nancy Sondel’s Facebook page. It came with the accompanied tag from Nancy: “An outline is meant to be a road map (including detours)… NOT a straitjacket!”

All of my writer spidy senses went into high alert when I read this. Immediately, I felt the need to defend my personal feeling that an outline is like a straitjacket. My mind whirred with reasons: an outline is going to stifle the story! It’s not going to give my characters room to breathe! I’m going to force my characters to do all the things my outline says they must do!

Obviously, outlines are a trigger for me.

I should clarify, when I say outline, I’m thinking about something very detailed. I’ve written 10 to 17  page outlines in the past, cataloging what happens when, where, how, and why. If you say the word outline to me, this is what I think of. Often, when you put that much work into an outline it can feel like the story is set in stone, unmovable, and pre-written. I’ve had to throw away entire projects that came as a result of this type of outlining, and it stole away my sense of discovery during the writing process. Many projects I’ve outlined, I’ve never finished. Hopefully this gives a little insight into why I have such a dramatic reaction to outlines.

But deep down I do think it’s important to have some sense of where your headed – some vague elusive sense, yes.

Let’s return to the quote above, I want to identify exactly why I reacted so negatively to it. The heart of the issue lies in the implication of the following two lines:

1)  “Always start a novel with an outline.”

Outlines and a sense of direction are important, but must you always start with one? First drafts (in my opinion) should be about exploration and discovery. Who are your characters? What do they want? What’s the premise and how could it play out? If you have an outline before you have a clear sense of who your characters are – will they even become real people? Or are they doomed to be cogs in your plot machine?

Are we so afraid of not knowing where we are headed? Outlines give us set destinations, but is there no room to explore with our characters? Is there no room to let our characters come a life and dictate the direction of their own stories?  (Be sure to read author Tristan Riehl’s great post about authors not being honest to their character’s stories).

Do we lack the faith that our stories will reveal themselves to us if we give them the space to do so? Do we not trust the writing process?

Of course, at some point we will want to look at the big picture and deal with the overall structure and plot. Of course, we will do this! But should we always start the process that way?

I think my big question here is: When is the right time to outline? Not that you should never outline, or that it can’t be a useful tool. But why do we choose to outline at all? At what point in the process should we do it? And what help does it provide? Is always starting with an outline an action done in service of the story or in service of the author?

Which leads me to…

2)  “…you will be able to make changes without wasting too much time.”

I have a sneaky suspicion that sometimes an outline exist so we don’t waste time. It exists for the author, so we can be efficient. I get it, time is valuable! There are sacrifices that must be made in order to make time in our lives to write. An outline can be a great tool to keep us on track and moving forward with our stories.

However, just because something is efficient, doesn’t mean it’s effective. It may serve us (the author) and give us a sense of accomplishment. But is it always serving our characters?

What gets lost in the process? What do we rush past and not see?

You may have heard the story of renowned violinist Joshua Bell, who did an incognito performance in a subway station in 2007. Bell played for 43 minutes during the morning rush hour and was passed by over 1000 people. Only a handful of people (including a child) stopped to hear him play. The rush to get to work, save time and not be late, was a stronger force than the desire to slow down and listen. Very few allowed themselves the space to experience something beautiful and unexpected.

Are we doing the same thing with our own stories in our mad rush to save time, finish our drafts, and get published? I’ll admit it. I’ve done it. And I had a nice pretty outline to guide my way. I know outlines have kept me from noticing the glorious events on the sidelines, things that would have made my book stronger, more alive, and vibrant. Has a dependency on an outline caused you to have similar blind spots?

Am I saying you shouldn’t outline. No, not at all. I’m saying you should ask yourself what you need from your outline. What’s the right time to use it? And is it a crutch that’s causing you look rush past the true heart of your novel?

Quote of the Week: Jeanette Winterson

Conflict vs. Connection

One of the big rules we always hear about writing is that there must be conflict! Without conflict you have no tension, no stakes, and the story doesn’t go anywhere. Some say “without conflict you have no story” at all!  Therefore we should always be on the look-out for the conflict in a scene and use it to make our stories more intense, emotional, and keep the boring-police away!

But, I have an admission. I’ve always had a problem with the idea that story revolves around conflict. I get nervous about how it limits what our stories can be about.

Don’t misread that comment. Conflict can be an important and useful storytelling tool, and there’s nothing wrong with using it. But… do we sometimes create conflict simply because we think we are supposed to? Are our lives defined by our conflicts? Is it all Man vs. Man, Man vs. Environment, Man vs. God, Good vs. Evil? Is it always about desire and obstacles and the conflicts that stand in our character’s way?

Is there not room for more?

This emphasis on conflict has always made me think of the fabulous quote in Diane Lefer’s essay, Breaking the Rules of Story Structure, where she says:

“The traditional story revolves around conflict – a requirement Ursula K. Le Guin disparages as the ‘gladatorial view of fiction.’ When we’re taught to focus our stories on a central struggle, we seem to choose by default to base all our plots on the clash of opposing forces. We limit our vision to a single aspect of existence and overlook much of the richness and complexity of our lives, just the stuff that makes a work of fiction memorable” (63).

Janet Burroway adds to this discussion noting that “seeing the world in terms of conflict and crisis, of enemies and warring factions, not only constricts the possibilities of literature… [it] also promulgates an aggressive and antagonistic view of our own lives” (Writing Fiction, 255).

These quotes have always resonated with me. I find I’m not an action-and-conflict writer. But at the same time, I didn’t have any other guidepost to lead me. So, if it’s possible for stories to revolve around something other than conflict, what would that “something else” be?

Connection.

In Writing Fiction, Burroway goes on to discuss a narrative engine built on the human need for connection, rather than the clash of opposing forces. She says:

“A narrative is also driven by a pattern of connection and disconnection between characters that is the main source of its emotional effect. Over the course of a story, and within the smaller scale of a scene, characters make and break emotional bonds of trust, love, understanding, or compassion with one another. A connection may be as obvious as a kiss or as subtle as a glimpse; a connection may be broken with an action as obvious as a slap or as subtle as an arched eyebrow” (255).

This is an idea I can get behind!

A pattern of connection and disconnection is a narrative guideline that feels rooted in truth, human desire, and hope. It’s a guideline that – if you need it to – can lead to conflict, should that be where you want your story to go. For me, the need for connection, and the movement between connecting and disconnecting, exists in a deeper space than conflict alone. Good vs. Evil sits on the surface.  Connection and disconnection is the pulse beneath the skin that motivates our characters. Can good or evil exist without it? This question excites me!  The possibility of small actions energizing a story excites me!

I believe in the little moments.

I believe in the impact of an arched eyebrows and a subtle glimpse, may they have the power to grip our readers with as much intensity as a fight to the death.

Quote of the Week: Mary Oliver

The Silent Treatment

If you’ve every queried an agent you’re probably familiar with the no response = not interested policy. This is when an agent/agency says if you haven’t heard from them within X-amount of time, they’re passing on your project. This isn’t a new policy. It’s been around for years.

Writers hate this policy. We get a little neurotic about it. Waiting to see if someone likes us – Ahem! I mean, likes our project – is hard. How can we know if an agent “just isn’t into us” if all we get is the silent treatment?

On the other hand, agents are busy. I mean busy! One agent reported getting 20 queries a day, and at the time of the blog-post, had 967 queries in her in-box. Is she supposed to send a personal email to all of them?

This has been a controversy for a while now, and there seem to be great points on both sides of the debate.

The agents say:

• Not having to send rejection letters means they can actually read more query letters, request more materials, and find YOU sooner!
• An agent’s time is valuable! They’re busy. They have their normal day-to-day duties to tend to – like selling their client’s books!
• It’s a business transaction. Do you get a response from every job you apply to? No.
• There’s negative karma with sending out rejection letters.
• Agents have the right to create whatever submission policy they like.

But… some agents also say:

• Responding to queries gives them a “leg up” on other agents. Now they have the “kindness factor.”
• They like to send responses because it allows them to feel like they have no loose ends.

Meanwhile the writers…

• Find it discouraging. A no-response can feel harsher than a rejection letter. Does the agent not respect them or their time?
• It can make a writer feel like they are in limbo. Did the query letter even get to the agent? Was it ever considered? Did it get stuck in the SPAM filter? (To combat this problem, some agents have created auto responders which let a writer know the query was received).
• May the mass-querying begin! If a writer knows they aren’t going to hear from an agent for months (and possibly never at all), they may start to send out mass queries. Of course, this creates more letters in an agents in-box, and the cycle begins.

Is there an easy answer to this? No.

I think an agent has every right to conduct business any way they see fit. But I do have respect for those who have sent me a rejection letter in the past. It shows me they’re a professional and they respect me. Personally, I am more likely to recommend that agent to my writer friends (even though I was rejected).

As for us writers, I think we all need to take a step back and practice our skills of patience and perseverance. The right agent is out there waiting for us – and they will contact us when the time is right.

Want to read more about this subject? Check out these other interesting articles:

SCBWI Open Letter to the Industry

Agent Natalie Lakosil’s Opinion

Agent Rachelle Gardner’s Opinion

Agent Janet Reid’s Opinion

Manuscript Critique Services

Have you noticed the fancy new tab on the navigation bar above? It’s the one between “Contact” and “Who’s Ingrid?”

Yup, I’m happy to announce that I am now offering manuscript critique services!

Do you have a novel, screenplay, short story, or a work-in-progress that you would like a professional opinion on? Are you struggling with finding the heart of your story, perfecting your plot, or moving forward with your novel? Do you need a fresh set of eyes to do a careful line-by-line read of your project? I’m here to help!

As you can tell from this blog, I love talking craft, exploring story, and delving into the nuts ‘n bolts of writing. I’m a teacher at heart and my goal is to help all of you to succeed with your projects, so the marketplace can be filled with as many great books as possible! (Yup, I’m selfish like that. I want to read more great books, not just mediocre ones.)

I’m a content editor (not a proofreader), and I’ll approach your work as a writer, teacher, and reader. A manuscript critique from me is an in-depth analysis of the big-picture elements of your story (plot, character, tension, narrative arc, etc.), as well as the small picture (word-choice, motivation, scene building, etc.). I think deeply about your work, provide a multi-page editorial letter, and page-by-page manuscript comments that will help you think critically about your story choices and empower you to revise with a clear vision.

Click on the manuscript critique services tab above for all the nitty-gritty details on my critique style, experience, and included services.

Feel free to contact me at: ingrid@sundbergstudio.com to tell me about your project and how I might be of service. I look forward to helping you take the next steps in your writing journey!

Quote of the Week: Tristan Riehl