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Backstory through setting and props
We’ve already covered the two most common ways to convey backstory—narration and dialogue—but this is perhaps the most interesting way to share backstory: through the setting (and props within it). While narration and dialogue can definitely set up the conflict that backstory enhances (or creates), using a concrete setting or prop to do the same thing can ground your characters—and vividly symbolize their conflict.
As editor Theresa Stevens puts it (emphasis mine):
Even though backstory relates past events, it sets the stage for current events. Let’s face it — if it didn’t set that stage,
there would be no reason to include it. So perhaps Mark’s purple bathroom becomes important when Grace, his interior decorator, is banned from repainting it. The purple bathroom is symbolic of Mark’s inner landscape, and that’s perfectly fine. In fact, this is how we like it to work: the character’s inner state is made manifest in his outer world.
So think about how your character’s backstory becomes tangible in the physical story world. And then think about how those tangible details can be used as props while the characters are working out their conflicts. This will effectively tie the past to the present in a meaningful way. But one coat of lilac paint is all you need. No need to analyze every bristle on the paintbrush. Present your backstory and return to the present as quickly as possible. You want to sacrifice as little momentum as possible.
Note that this example exemplifies (uh, duh) a great way to do this—it only lets us see that something is up with the purple paint. We don’t stop the story—and interrupt the conflict between Mark and Grace—to spend a paragraph in a flashback explaining Mark’s neurosis. As we read from Chris Roerden last week, “You don’t want to satisfy reader curiosity—you want to increase it” (Don’t Murder Your Mystery, 53).
Editor and author Alicia Rasley (who now writes the blog edittorrent with Theresa, the editor quoted above) says something similar in her article “Backstory Problems“:
Consider how much more dramatic this opening scene might be if Emily unlocks the door of her elegant childhood home, steels herself, walks in, glances around the foyer, sees the chandelier, stops short, and then, resolutely, goes into the dining room, past the table, into the kitchen, and pulling a cell phone from her purse, calls a realtor and says, “I want to sell a house. Immediately. I don’t care how much I get for it.” The readers will be asking, “Wait a minute! It’s a beautiful house! It’s her childhood home! Why does she want to sell it? And if she sells it, why doesn’t she try to get a good price?” On the heels of those questions will come the canny conclusion, “It must have something to do with that chandelier. I wonder what.”
Once you have the readers speculating about the situation you’ve set up, you’ve hooked them. They have to keep reading to get more clues to see if their suppositions are correct.
But if you tell them everything upfront, you might lose the narrative drive that comes from posing the story question, in this case, “Why does Emily want to unload her beautiful childhood home?”
(If the suspense for these two examples is just killing you, check out their full articles for the reasons behind the paint and the chandelier.)
What do you think? How else can the setting and/or props tie in to backstory?
Photo by Alyssa Hill
Posted in Technique
Tagged Backstory, bad backstory, boring backstory, integrating backstory, prop, props, setting, symbolism
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Backstory and characterization (and what NOT to do!)
So we’ve talked about the methods of conveying backstory—but we also need to hit on the purposes of backstory. Generally, I see two main uses for backstory: to explain why the character is the way he is (characterization) and does the things he does (motivation). Personally, I think using backstory for characterization is the weaker of the two reasons—but both come with caveats.
It seems like backstory in characterization is usually used to try to make us feel sympathy with the character. The errors can run either way. In “Sympathy without Saintliness,” editor and author Alicia Rasley lists several common faults in trying to create character sympathy—and backstory is two of them:
4) Giving the protagonist a lot of heroic backstory. Yeah, he was a big hero in the war. Yeah, she saved a lot of lives during that epidemic. But that was then. This is now. Backstory is just background– the character exists right now, and what he/she does now is what’s important. It might work if now he/she is burned out by all the heroics, self-doubting, feeling like an impostor… oops. Now we’re getting into the fun stuff…. hang on to that thought.
5) Giving the protagonist miserable backstory. This is often done in order to excuse some unsympathetic behavior or attitude [and is also a common technique to try to make villains sympathetic]. Yeah, he hates women, but it’s because his mother abandoned him! And his foster mother beat him! And his aunt framed him for murder! And his first girlfriend trapped him into marriage by getting pregnant! And…
Gag me.
Maybe we’re just hitting a nerve here with me, but frankly, I’m so tired of seeing that in fiction that instead of feeling that desired tug at the heart strings, I roll my eyes when I read about how he’s too short and her mother never, ever loved her. I know a lot of people who’ve been through bad times: abuse, living on the street, loss, grief. None of them automatically became fractured protagonists or villains. Geez, if these characters are going to act a certain way, let them take responsibility! Don’t just blame everyone else—that character made a choice somewhere along the way that made them into this person. (Possible exception: the character’s journey is about learning to take responsibility for his/her choices and actions.)
Alicia puts it better than I can: “While we want to sympathize with the characters, we don’t want them to be victims so battered by past events that they don’t actually live in the present. There’s also that ‘authenticity’ problem. If we lose the sense that this is a whole person, if we think the author just layered all these past traumas on, we won’t believe in the protagonist.”
We don’t want our stories or our characters to be trapped in the past. We need to remember to focus on the story. As Mystery Man on Film said:
What happens in the past, off screen, good or bad, does not affect sympathy. It’s what we see the character do in the present that determines how much we will or will not care about that character.
Backstory can definitely influence how our characters are and act—they had to come from somewhere!
But that’s not the only problem with backstory and characterization. If we use backstory as the primary way to build character sympathy, we’ll probably have to stop the present story to wedge in a long story about our character’s terrible childhood. We run the risk of boring our readers right out of caring about our characters. We need to focus on the scene—and story—at hand to find a way to get our readers caring.
What do you think? What’s the right way to use backstory for characterization?
Photo by Margarit Ralev
Posted in Technique
Tagged Backstory, bad backstory, boring backstory, character sympathy
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Backstory and character motivation
Backstory and character motivation can be a dicey topic. This is generally the best use of backstory—to motivate your characters’ actions in the present. However, conveying that backstory is still a trick—and sometimes backstory isn’t the best way to show motivation at all.
As with characterization, backstory can’t be the only way we show a character’s motivations. Again, this suggests that we’re not just products of our past experiences, but that we’re trapped by them. In the world of fiction, this is unfortunately not very compelling. Imagine a character who only ever acts based on the fact that his mother yelled at
him. Is that backstory—and the motivation it creates—going to offer enough internal motivation and conflict to craft a mystery/romance/fantasy/literary novel around? Probably not.
Instead, we should look to the story present as well as backstory to create motivation and conflict. As editor and author Alicia Rasley says in “Character Motivation” (emphasis added),
Motivation (especially internal motivation) often comes out of backstory… but the story itself plays out the intermixing of motivation and conflict.
So: Be wary of motivation confined mostly to the internal or to backstory. Give the character something immediate to inspire action today. There should be a present-day event to inspire the manifestation of the internal or past motivation– for example, Heroine inherits the house where her mother committed suicide and decides to start a new life by renovating it. The external motivation is that “starting a new life”; the internal motivation might be to exorcise her mother’s ghost or to deal with the trauma of the suicide. The internal motivation comes out of the backstory, but the external motivation is in the here-and-now of the story.
And motivation, especially that created in the past, doesn’t have to remain static. It can change (and should change) because of the events of the plot.
Backstory is important because it can explain objectionable actions (which are great for increasing reader curiosity), and it gives our characters a place to grow from. But it shouldn’t be the only way we motivate our characters—and as our characters grow, their motivations (and actions) will grow and change with them.
And editor Theresa Stevens has said:
Beware the backstory used to shore up character motivations. It often points to a lack of real conflict or to other plot problems. Every time you’re tempted to reach backwards to explain why characters are behaving a certain way, stop. Ask yourself if you can fix it in the present story moment, because this will almost always be the stronger fix.
This is one of those instances where backstory can be just a little too convenient. We, the authors, need the characters to argue here so . . . let’s give one a traumatic event in childhood. (Thanks, Freud.) Instead, perhaps we should take a longer look at our characters to see if we can’t give them a better reason for conflict in the present.
Yes, backstory is important for characters’ motivation—perhaps even necessary—but if it’s the only way we choose to motivate our characters, are we weakening them? What do you think?
Photo by Colleen Lane
Backstory, plot and revelation
Sometimes, we have another use for backstory. I’ve seen this especially in women’s fiction and literary novels, though that may not be the only place it’s used. The present plot revolves around the backstory—and figuring out just what happened.
Okay, so that sounds a lot like a mystery. And, in a sense it is—sometimes the it’s even about discovering who really killed a victim. However, in these stories, usually it’s less about righting the wrong and showing good triumph over evil and more about finding meaning in life.
I’ve heard about a number of books that sound like they have the same kind of plot structure, but of the books I’ve read, the best example that springs to mind is The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd.
Now, throughout this series, we’ve talked about all the many ways backstory is so bad because we’re condemning the character/plot/conflict to be less compelling than something set in the present. So how can all these stories get published if they’re so focused on the backstory?
Let’s look at the structure of The Secret Life of Bees for some ideas. (No spoilers.)
- The story does have action in the present. The backstory mystery—who killed Lily’s mother, Deborah—is introduced first, but we quickly get to see the conflict in the present: Lily doesn’t get along with T. Ray (her father), and there’s also the historical backdrop of civil rights.
- The backstory fuels the main character’s quest.
- The backstory is important to the character—and the reader.
- The POV character doesn’t know the backstory—it’s a mystery to her. While I think this is the most popular mode, this varies in some books, though: sometimes the POV character knows but doesn’t want to think about it.
- What is probably key (and many thanks to my friend Sarah for helping me hash this out/saying it herself): The backstory—and the journey to discover the backstory—is the plot: the character’s growth comes in her decision to reconcile herself with her past and move on to the future.
What do you think? Have you read a book like this? Why did it work (or not)?
Photo by Marie Richie
Posted in Technique
Tagged Backstory, literary fiction, sue monk kidd, the secret life of bees, women's fiction
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Backstory: more resources
So, the bottom line on backstory: your characters need it, and your story might, too. But we have to be very careful to balance backstory with the present story, which should be more compelling and only enhanced by the backstory, never impeded. (Oh, is that all? 
)
I’m not the only one who feels this way. Just last week, literary agent Kristen Nelson singled out backstory and minutiae as the two biggest reasons why novels start in the wrong place (and we looked at how to start your story in the right place, too).
Here are some of the great articles and books I’ve studied and referenced as I worked on this series:
- Don’t Murder Your Mystery by Chris Roerden
- Revision And Self-Editing by James Scott Bell
- Redlines Ten: Backstory by Theresa Stevens at edittorrent
- Revelations and Flashbacks by Alicia Rasley at edittorrent
- Got Backstory? What Do You Do With It? by Theresa Stevens at Romance University
- Ask an Editor: Backstory and Pacing by Theresa Stevens at Romance University
- Backstory Problems by Alicia Rasley
- Character Motivation by Alicia Rasley
- Sympathy without Saintliness by Alicia Rasley
(Can you tell I’m a fan?)
What articles have you come across on backstory that have helped you understand more about this tool?
Photo by Sue Clark
Backstory done right
A little while ago, we took a look at backstory. We focused mostly on what to avoid, but the fact remains that backstory isn’t all bad. Backstory can be vital to a story or a character. In fact, entire genres rely on the device.
Mysteries, for example, rely heavily on backstory, if we define “backstory” as any action that takes place before the story starts. While plenty of mysteries have the murder happen during the course of the story, stories that are more focused on a professional crime-solver and his investigation often start after the murder has already taken place. Thus, the mystery that drives the plot, from the identity to the motivation of the murderer, qualifies as backstory.
But pure mysteries aren’t the only genre that relies on an element of the mysterious. Personally, I have a hard time conceiving of a story that doesn’t contain an element of discovery, and that discovery will most likely be events or thoughts that take place off screen or before the story starts. As I mentioned during the series, often we see literary fiction revolve around revealing the truth behind an event that took place before the story started.
We brainstormed some reasons why that works so well when other stories that seem to rely just as heavily on events that happened before the story started are boring, using The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd as an example of this technique done well.
- The story does have action in the present. The backstory mystery—who killed Lily’s mother, Deborah—is introduced first, but we quickly get to see the conflict in the present: Lily doesn’t get along with T. Ray (her father), and there’s also the historical backdrop of civil rights.
- The backstory fuels the main character’s quest.
- The backstory is important to the character—and the reader.
- The POV character doesn’t know the backstory—it’s a mystery to her. While I think this is the most popular mode, this varies in some books, though: sometimes the POV character knows but doesn’t want to think about it.
- What is probably key (and many thanks to my friend Sarah for helping me hash this out/saying it herself): The backstory—and the journey to discover the backstory—is the plot: the character’s growth comes in her decision to reconcile herself with her past and move on to the future.
So now we’re going to take a quick look at how great backstory can be. It’s still important to explain it judiciously, but backstory can add another dimension to a story to make it come alive.
What do you think? How have you seen backstory used well?
Photo by Dave
The backstory of Backstory
I don’t want to rehash too much of what we discussed last time (can you believe it’s only been three months since we discussed this last?)—I want to move into new territory. But first, I guess, we have to go through the backstory on the backstory: review what we’ve already covered so I can see where to go next.
The last series covered several topics:
- Where to start and Jump into the action: starting stories and scenes with action instead of backstory.
- Winning Back Story: Not an Oxymoron (Guest post from Margie Lawson): slipping in backstory a “shard” at a time, and only what’s necessary
- Backstory: how much is too much? (Whatever stops the story)
- Handling Backstory through narration, Backstory through dialogue, and Backstory through setting and props
- Using Backstory and characterization (and what NOT to do!), and instead using Backstory to set up character motivation directly
- And finally, the subject that inspired this revisit, Backstory done right—backstory revelation as a driving force in the plot.
So we looked at determining what was backstory and what was story-story, as well as several methods of inserting backstory. As I said before, it’s that last subject that prompted this revisit. More and more I’m noticing stories that rely heavily on their backstory, whether to propel the current action of the story or to add the suspense necessary to propel the readers through the story. In less experienced hands, those same backstory-heavy books might drag, as hopelessly trapped in the past as their characters. But plenty of excellent authors are able to pull it off in style.
There are definitely good uses for backstory—and well-written, interesting stories can even revolve around backstory. So how can we make sure our backstory is the “right” kind and the “right” delivery?
Photo by Colleen Lane
Backstory delivery 201
Even good backstory can kill a story if it’s not delivered well. We’ve looked extensively at how to weave in backstory, but I think in this “201-level” look, we can go beyond the basic mechanics on a scene level (which we’ve covered before) and look at how backstory revelations should function in a story—and how to keep their delivery smooth.
As we said last time, this has to be the right kind of backstory—something worth waiting for. Hinting at the backstory, “insinuating” it as Chris Roerden puts it (Don’t Murder Your Mystery), can be a driving force for the novel if the “right” backstory is big enough (such as the identity of the murderer).
Hinting at the backstory throughout the story creates suspense by promising some big, important revelation. We’re writing the reader a promissory note, and if the revelation isn’t as big and important as we set it up to be, we can’t give our readers the pay off we promised.
But as long as our backstory is a big enough deal, suspense is often the main function of backstory. When you keep in mind that you’re trying to raise more questions than you answer (but answer enough questions not to frustrate your reader!), it might be easier to see why (and how) to slip backstory in a “shard” at a time.
One important thing to remember is that there has to be some “action” in the present to balance the action set in the past. Not fight scenes per se, but some character doing something. If the plot is going to revolve around searching for some truth or story or facts, that search has to be compelling in and of itself. An entire book about a girl sitting down to read her late father’s journal—which she does, successfully, in one sitting, and she counts herself lucky to have known him—isn’t as compelling or interesting as just depicting the backstory (the father’s life) as the “live action” of the story.
There has to be conflict in the present as well as in the backstory we’re revealing—and possibly between the two, as well. Maybe the daughter is going through troubles in her marriage and she reads about her father’s doubts in his marriage. But before she can come to his final choice whether to remain faithful to her mother, the daughter’s husband interrupts her. They have a fight. He takes the journal and burns it. The daughter must set off to find the “other woman” to see what her father chose. She only knows her first name, and so on. Discovering the story isn’t easy—and the character has a compelling reason to want to know the (very important) truth.
And of course, that revelatory truth will most likely come at or around the climax of the story—another reason why this has to be a big promise, and something worth revealing.
What do you think? When a story centers around backstory, how does the delivery differ than in other stories?
Photo by Michael Lehet
