When we write novels, characters and settings can feel so real to us that it’s easy to lose sight of the authorial choices we’re making along the way. It can feel more like transcribing a world that already exists than applying our own will to shape the way the novel transpires.
As I’m editing, I often see this tension arise when it comes to a character acquiring a bit of information or learning about their world. Now, there are times when it makes sense to leave characters in the dark. Maybe you’re creating a mystery or it just plain wouldn’t make sense for characters to know something.
But other times, it can feel extremely pedantic to spell out how a character arrived at a bit of knowledge. I particularly see this in novels written for children, when some authors implicitly believe kids can’t know anything unless an adult bestows the information upon them.
Here’s what I mean.
Orangedays can just be orangedays
Sometimes authors feel the need to spell out precisely how characters arrived at possessing a bit of knowledge, like “Mom told Christine the sky’s always orange on Orangedays,” when Christine could… just know that about her world. You don’t have to “prove” she learned it, the narrative voice can just relay it to the reader.
And sure, as a throwaway line, “Mom told Christine X, Y, Z” isn’t a problem unto itself and might fill in some gaps about the character’s broader life. But some writers open the floodgates and spell out how characters arrive at every bit of knowledge. It can end up feeling like the novel gets lost in pedantic information-gathering cul-de-sacs that detract from the main plot.
Characters don’t need to be all-knowing seers by any stretch of the imagination, but at least gut check whether they can just know something. Overall, it’s usually best to err on the side of characters already possessing knowledge, particularly when it’s a detail that’s tangential to the plot.
Taking something that needs to be learned and pushing it into the realm of common knowledge can help you streamline the plot and keep things moving.
Smushing exposition into dialogue
Characters needing to painstakingly learn information about their world is often a symptom of an author who’s uncomfortable delivering exposition via the narrative voice and instead decides to smush it into a conversation. But conversations that are constructed around information delivery invariably feel contrived because there’s usually no real reason for two characters to stand around painstakingly spelling out backstory or what should already be common knowledge.
It feels pretty clear they’re really speaking for the reader’s benefit, and it pulls us out of the scene.
Again: characters can just know things, and they can relay that information to the reader via the narrative voice with crisp, clear exposition. It’s fine to build a conversation around information if one character genuinely needs to learn something and has worked hard to get there, but really gut check whether it needs to transpire this way.
Kids are smart!!
And a special section in this post for everyone who writes for children.
Particularly if you spend a lot of time around children as a parent, teacher, or guardian, you may feel like you’re steeped in the world of children, but the danger is that you’ve probably also grown very used to seeing children through an adult’s eyes. You are attuned to kids’ needs and limitations, and the way you as an adult shape their lives. You may have lost touch with your memories of what it actually feels like to be a child.
If you’re not careful, you can end up with a children’s novel where a child can’t do anything unless an adult gives their blessing or guidance, and can’t learn anything unless an adult patiently bestows the knowledge. These novels end up feeling more like adult wish fulfillment about how kids are surrounded by wise and kind adults if they’d only stop and pay attention.
Kids can just know things!! Even if you’re writing a novel where a child is one of the world’s foremost experts in particle physics, you don’t have to “prove” the kid learned the information or show an adult teaching them, they can just know it. Kids are smart, and readers will go with it.
Respect kids’ agency and ability to make sense of the world around them.
Let novels flow from characters being active
Above all, getting hung up on information acquisition and delivery can distract you from letting novels flow from characters who want something and are actively going after that thing, encountering obstacles, and emerging somewhere changed.
Yes, in order to make the events of the novel fit together, you have to find a way to help the reader understand certain facets of the setting and history. But the more you can streamline the “nuts and bolts,” the more you can keep the emphasis on the parts of the story that really matter.
There aren’t hard and fast rules here, but err on the side of making information common knowledge that can be delivered to the reader in a straightforward way, and keep asking yourself…
“Can my character just know this?”
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Art: Detail of Portrait of Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos by Francisco de Goya
“Let novels flow from characters being active”
This sums up every great novel.
I’m going to quote you! Cheers.
That’s how I treated my protag, nine-year old (“Going on ten”) Richard in my novella, Mouse Hole. He “knows” things because he pays attention – usually – to what’s happening around him, although it’s not stated that way. Turns out he likes to read Sherlock Holmes novels, even though he doesn’t always understand what he’s reading. What he does understand is that Sherlock pays close attention to the smallest details in order to solve his mysteries. This comes in very handy for Richard when he’s inadvertently involved in a high profile burglary that’s stumped the police.