I’ve mentioned bubbles, in regards to writing, several times in these “answer questions” posts, so that’s what I want to focus on for this one. Bubbles are, to me, those moments where there is a sense of connection. They help set tone, pacing, emotional connection to the reader, and level of depth in the writing itself, sometimes even more than language or wording selection.
They don’t have to be happy, even though the word “bubble” has a pleasant meaning for most of us. They can serve as a sense of belonging or as a sense of threat.
In Star Trek, Deep Space 9, there is an episode where Sisko is pulled into different times in his life. It’s shown that we, as humans, live forward in time, but our existence is actually several moments lived and relived repeatedly.
In my Haven Point series, Jaimie, it’s explained several times, could have gone just about anywhere for her career yet she chose to go home, despite her high school experience and dealing with her mother. It is a point that her partner, Drew, finds fascinating. They don’t discuss it. The Haven Point series is written in a more serious setting than Novo: Ridge Lake is. Jaimie feels connection to her hometown. To her aunt. To her dog, Moe. She is driven to do what she does for a career and where she does it. There is history to her choices, weight, determination against several odds. She chooses Moe above just about everything else. Living with the K9 24-7 is not simple or easy, but for her, it is. Those are all bubbles. The story for Haven Point is not one about beating the odds. It isn’t about Jaimie finally being accepted by her family. Nor is it about her being the best or finally doing something right. But those bubbles of Jaimie’s connections build who she is as a person.
There is a murder in LampLight. The thoughts of the perpetrator are shown, every once in a while. I chose this format so that the intimate act of passionate, sudden death can be understood, instead of putting out details in the form of lab or incident reports.
When Jaimie’s life and this murder collide, it isn’t as simple as investigation. And it isn’t one where she becomes obsessed with the outcome or discovery or chase. There are several overlaps that will, ultimately, change at least part of her day to day routine.
If a bubble works, it gives both realism and surrealism to the reader. Not necessarily one where the boy who can’t hit the baseball finally slams a home run when it’s the bottom of the 9th, with two strikes against. Too much realism in a book can be quite a turn off. Too many twists and turns can do that, and too much triteness, as well. There needs to be some sort of realistic reasoning why the connection is happening, but the outcome of it or the existence of it does not need to be.
I used to hate romance novels. Passionately hate them. Obviously, I don’t anymore. When I went on a research slew for Haven Point, I read a lot of different genres that weren’t my own preferences. First, I didn’t hate all romance novels. And second, I was very much into horror or murder mysteries at the time. What started changing my mind was Elizabeth Peters’ Peabody series.
While I completely understand that putting words to paper and actually publishing a work is an incredibly brave and hard thing to do, as a reader, I wasn’t emotionally satisfied by many. I remember thinking, many times, why are these two people even involved with each other?
The bubble, for my tastes, wasn’t developed enough. Or it was too realistic without enough depth, changing the tone of the read from seamless to unending. But I also realize there are different reading styles and what doesn’t work for me would for someone else.
One of the scariest books I have ever read is Anne Perry’s Bluegate Fields. Perry’s writing style is very detailed, without having several pages for description. There is depth and seriousness and grit and passion. She has a way of weaving many themes, bubbles, story lines, and characters together into a whole world that left me breathless and scared witless for nights after I was done with the book.
One of the funniest I have read is Jennifer Crusie’s Agnes and the Hitman. She, too, writes in a way that has you stepping into her world and not wanting to leave it.
The tone of these two books is vastly different. But what I was drawn to, and aspire to be with my own writing, is the seamlessness of story telling. The connection between characters is very strong and well-crafted, overlapping and adding new layers.
When I have an idea hit me, whether or not it’s trite, I try it on for size. Does it fit the character? The arcs I have going on already? Can I see the scene occurring, whether or not it’s extreme, unlikely, improbable? What’s the twist? Is there some detail, like hair color or a particularly specific phrase the character would say, that sticks out like a sore thumb? Is there a sense of timing difference, the same way we would experience when something is boring and ceaseless or goes by too fast? What one or two aspects of that idea, when changed, changes the outcome or do they pop the bubble for me?
This is why I don’t write with fully developed outlines. I have scrapped whole books or sections just for this alone.
When I began writing “Oak”, my female lead’s name was Marel. I liked it. At first. I was about half done when the name began to get annoying. I found that it flavored the character in too serious a tone. That the name alone changed my writing style and how I was developing her personality- one that didn’t fit with Oak, Libby, or six other characters. I stopped being able to hear Oak’s voice speak “Marel” in any way other than droll.
I wound up changing her name to Bryn. I walked away from the novel for a couple of weeks. When I re-read, I was astounded. I need to re-do more than half of what I put down because I found that the details surrounding Oak were dead wrong. I had dropped story lines, accidentally changed details from other books, and the scenes between Oak and Marel stopped being funny, even if they were when I wrote them the first time.
Those same scenes between Oak and Bryn, with just the name change, made a more fitting impact and I have better developed the female lead, giving her depth and purpose. This helps create a more seamless connection between the two and Bryn’s story doesn’t wind up sounding the same as Bet’s or Rowan’s. It’s now unique to her- the way it should be. All because of a name that was leading to disconnection. There are now ways of connecting Bryn to the other characters, because I stopped, unconsciously, ending conversations too quickly, with “Marel’s” more serious nature.
Another connection I am building is that of Jaimie and Drew, in the Haven Point series. Jaimie is very resistant to having a new person in her immediate environment. She is silent, moody, obnoxious at times, hypocritical at others, snide, and sand papery. Yet, her new partner also brings out her compassion, even if it’s still on the quiet side. Her outlook on life doesn’t change much, but enough little pieces shift just barely enough to smooth out her rough spots, refine, and sometimes even harden, her already deep set of preferences.
Drew, on the other hand, is emotionally exhausted, more social in several ways, and is completely all over the place when his world turns upside down. His viewpoints change hour to hour. Guilt, disgust, overthinking, repression, apathy, relief, and he is drawn to the puzzle that’s been shoved down his throat by Lieutenant Silva. Something his boss knows that he can’t resist.
These two aren’t polar opposites. They aren’t meant to be. Different, yes. But there are several similarities that the two share. And what changes between them, individually, at having to deal with those differences, is what helps create their bubble and their own language. Shared experiences, pleasant or not. It actually winds up separating them from the rest of the squad and will cause them both grief in future books.
So if, for me, a bubble doesn’t fit, or it’s forcing a fit in a way I wind up not liking, I take it out. Play with it. Change an aspect and see if the flow is better. See if I like the way the words sound and if the scene still comes up as an almost movie in my head and if it leads to some sort of “next point” or another “what if.”
What if you meet the love of your life after s/he has been severely wounded? Or right before?
What if you meet that person, and it isn’t anything like what you had originally picked out for yourself? What if it was?
What if you meet someone you feel incredibly close to, but you know you would wind up crushing that person completely if you were just yourself?
What if you met someone who could become your best friend and they were about to be murdered?
What if you meet someone who has the same exact habit as someone who critically wounded you, emotionally, but you love everything else about that person?
The what if’s lead to bubbles. The bubbles help define who a person is, directly and subtly, and shape the outcome.
