An Empty Field

 by Sandy Cody

January 16, 2015 - The new year has begun, but just barely. It’s sixteen days old; there are still three hundred forty-nine days left, stretching before us like an empty field, just waiting for us to build or plant whatever we choose.

It is, as Dickens said in what is probably one of the most-quoted openings in all of literature: “the best of times, the worst of times”. The best, because beginnings are exciting. They’re full of promise, with the leaving behind of the false starts and, worse yet, the no-starts, of last year. We have all those days/hours/minutes/seconds in which we can build a house in that empty field. Let’s make it a big house, a huge house - and offer shelter to a needy world. Or we can plant wheat or corn to help feed a hungry world - or how about a field of daisies just because they’re beautiful. Why not? The world needs food for the soul too. Simply put, the opportunities are limitless, just there for the taking.

So much for the best. What about the worst? Beginnings can also be intimidating. Think of all the mistakes you might make. What if you do plant daisies, then forget to water them and they all die? You’ll have added ugliness instead of beauty to the world. That could happen. You could plant corn with the promise that you’ll feed the hungry, then let weeds take over and have nothing but thistles to offer. The trouble with making promises is that if you don’t keep them, someone is going to be upset. The risks are limitless too, but we have to take them because doing nothing is the biggest mistake of all.

To the writers among us, that open field might seem like blank pages - just waiting for a story to unfold. There’s a lot of space for characters to pursue a dream, to find their happily-ever-after. But, wait a minute, if you look at the field again, you’ll see a sky filled with clouds. Is a storm brewing for our characters? Let's hope so. It wouldn’t be much of a story without a few storms. That’s okay. That’s what writers are for. We’ll guide our characters through and help them find shelter, but only after they’ve been tested and proved themselves worthy. Words will be our seeds, hopefully to be watered by inspiration and fertilized by research and, when those fail, nudged into growth by the encouragement of people who care about us.

So ... sixteen days into 2015 I wish you a Happy New Year - filled with opportunity and risks that make you grow.

Romance and Television

by Sierra Donovan

I'm not a weekly-TV-series type of viewer. My husband and I are much more likely to pop in a movie when we settle in on the couch at night. But with the growth of Netflix and the phenomenon of “binge watching” – largely by my two kids who live at home – I've gotten familiar with some recent series.

I've found that situation comedies have changed a lot since the days of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” when the situations and characters changed very slowly over the course of seasons, if they changed at all. Now there's a lot more story progress over the course of even a single season. It's a great opportunity for character and relationship development.

Surprise! Romance figures into this, because a lot of central plots have to do with romantic relationships. Will this couple end up together … or not?

SPOILER ALERT for Netflix viewers: shield your eyes if you haven't seen all of “The Office” or the first six seasons of “Parks and Recreation.”

These two series get it right. There's a lot of anticipation and expectation built on key relationships. Then the writers go on to affirm what they've made us believe in our bones: Jim and Pam belong together. Ben and Leslie belong together. The characters are written consistently and believably, even through moments of doubt. And ultimately, and the writers deliver on our expectations.

Now, let's talk for a minute about “How I Met Your Mother,” and why I think this one gets it wrong.

I haven't seen how this series ends. But I do know last year's season finale had viewers screaming. Even without having seen it, I'm pretty sure I can tell you why.

If ever a series was built on expectation, it's this one. It's in the very title. We're teased from Day One that we're building toward the revelation of Ted finding his true love.

Writers, you set your audience up for disappointment.

You promised a payoff, but we keep being told Mom is NOT any of the characters we're watching now. She's going to be someone we haven't invested in. What are the odds that the viewers are NOT going to be disappointed in the outcome?

An even worse sin, in my opinion: time and again, the series set us up to anticipate a relationship between one couple or another. Usually the buildup is very well done. The characters spend months out of a season yearning for each other, longing for each other, just missing each other. And then, when the two people do get together, it's usually – PFFFT! – over within a couple of episodes. After that, the much-anticipated couple goes back to interacting pretty much the same way they did before all that longing ever started. What is this, partial amnesia?

No, it's inconsistency. I think the series tried to break ground by flying in the face of viewers' expectations. I think what it did, instead, was tease the viewers, then contradict what it had told us about the characters. I can't address the finale, but from season to season, the series repeatedly went back on its promises.

Romance fiction is often criticized for being predictable. Yes, the couple gets together, as promised. Just as, in a murder mystery, the killer is discovered. As promised.

In real life, we're not promised happy resolutions. In fact, we're not promised resolutions at all. This is where fiction is different. We go in expecting that the story will reach a satisfying resolution. Depending on the genre, that ending may or may not be happy, but it needs to satisfy. It needs to be consistent with the author has told us. It needs to keep its promise.

The Story and the Teller

The ClassicAndCozy blogging group is made up of writers who were all published by Avalon Books, well-known as a publisher of clean and sweet mystery, romance, westerns, primarily for libraries. Now, that option has expanded but the premise, for most of us, has stuck.

My particular genres are romance and women’s fiction. I like a happy ending. I like building a world where things work out for the best, no matter what traumatic events my characters have to face. Whether it’s infertility, child custody battles, professional jealousy, office bullying, ethnic prejudice (Salsa Dancing with Pterodactyls), or divorce and lost love (Wait a Lonely Lifetime), abandonment, the death of a parent, losing a job (Nights Before) or seeking a home, war, oppression (as in my historical novels), my characters triumph.

And that is not always a simple task, even for the writer of the story. There is no guarantee that characters behave as you expect, nor that their difficulties have a believable solution. The objective is verisimilitude or, at least, plausibility. The exceptions are Fantasy and SciFi but, even then, there are rules and conventions.

As a reader, I want to be included, drawn in and given an opportunity to learn something new, experience a new world. As a writer, making that possible for readers is hard work, especially if we want it to look easy.

I once heard a writer describe himself as “a difficult poet,” taking pride that his work is obscure, intentionally beyond the comprehension of the reader. To me, that reeks of arrogance and a wish to appear superior. A former colleague told me she did not trust the audiences of her dance performances to understand so she explained everything—talking down to them. What is the point of either position?

We all have a story to tell, our story, important to us. The impulse to tell our stories is part of our primordial DNA, from the first recognition of a common language, from the first fireside chat, our species has told stories and every one of them has been told and retold in a thousand different guises over the millennia of human history. And yet, we still tell our stories, whether they are about our own experience or based on the seven plots of humankind, or twenty or thirty-six depending on who has written the analysis!

Here are the seven basic stories: 1) human versus nature; 2) human versus human; 3) human versus environment/society; 4) human versus machine/technology; 5) human versus supernatural; 6) human versus self; 7) human versus god/religion.

We love these stories because they are about us. We all face these conflicts: ask my husband about #4!

Vladimir Propp defined thirty-one functions of a hero’s journey beginning with ABSENTATION: A member of a family leaves the security of the home environment and ending with WEDDING: Hero marries and ascends the throne (is rewarded/promoted).

Where is your story in the scheme of human storytelling? What do you expect from a writer when you enter the world of their story?

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This is the 100th blog post for Classic & Cozy. Happy Centennial Blog!