Harvey, do you remember at the beginning of the school year, what Miss Wardwell told us about Ye Olde Greendale? How there were witch trials, like in Salem, but no one ever talked about them or wrote about them? There are no gravestones, no monuments. Hazily, yeah. That’s because the witches didn’t want anyone to know. So that the coven could keep living in Greendale, privately, undisturbed, through the centuries. So that we could.
I saw this big master post about all random things, but I found these the most important things and felt the need to separate it from the other topic. I’ve read most of them and I fully agree with them and if your insecure but want to try out things or just want to improve your smutting skills, then I suggest you read these. c:
Anonymous asked: I am writing a story that requires a certain amount of foreshadowing. Do you have any advice on doing this well? Every time I write something it is too obvious.
Foreshadowing is a nuanced device. It is employed by writers at a near-constant rate, and many writers are unaware that they are even doing it. So, how do you purposefully inject foreshadowing into your narrative?
Firstly, a definition:
Foreshadowing(n): A device used in literature to create expectation or to set up an explanation of later developments.
Most writers think that foreshadowing must be discernible in some way, that it is a thing separate from the normal narrative of their story. This, we believe, is an erroneous perspective to have of any literally device. If your reader is ever acutely aware of a literary device, then it is not performing its function as part of a smooth, singular method of transferring the story from the writer’s brain to the words on the page/screen to the reader’s mind.
Anyway.
Here are the basics of great foreshadowing:
“Ideally, you want to signpost the fact that something exciting is about to happen but without giving away the precise nature of the event. In other words, arouse expectations but keep the audience guessing.” (x)
Every instance of great foreshadowing should be vague, up for interpretation in context until the full story is known. When it comes to foreshadowing, nobody should know for certain what will happen except the writer.
You have to be sneaky about foreshadowing. Very sneaky. And being sneaky takes practice. So practice.
Do not foreshadow something that flat-out doesn’t happen. Never, never make promises to your reader on which you do not deliver.
And now for some really basic examples of foreshadowing. We’ll discuss them after we list them.
“I am never so unhappy as when it rains.”
“The weatherman says there’s a 60% chance of rain tomorrow.”
It was a cloudy day.
A rumble of thunder echoed through the house.
Ok, what is being foreshadowed here? A storm, right? How did you know?
The first example is dialogue. If the character proclaiming their ennui at the thought of rain happens to be important (like a protagonist), we can predict some storm clouds in their future. Why? Because of conflict. If the protagonist dislikes rain, there will almost certainly be rain because it makes them unhappy. It alters their emotional state, and any change of state creates struggle, conflict. Since readers are either consciously or subconsciously aware of this, they will probably draw conclusions that, at some point, it will rain. If this seems like convoluted and/or cliched method of foreshadowing, that’s because it is, but that doesn’t make it bad. In fact, it’s one of the oldest tricks in the book. The writer is telling the reader that the protagonist wants/doesn’t want/likes/doesn’t like something, and that’s exactly the something they are likely to face. In other words, as soon as the heroine says, “I can’t live without Frederick”, Frederick is doomed.
The second example is also dialogue. The writer is bothering to tell us in dialogue that some weatherman has cautioned his viewers about a decent likelihood of rain. If it’s in dialogue, we are more likely to pay special attention to it, and since writers know this, they often use dialogue to highlight important information to the reader. Though the weatherman’s prediction may seem arbitrary when it is first related to the reader in the narrative, it will become important the next day when a hurricane crashes the characters’ picnic. The writer is straightforwardly, though perhaps offhandedly, telling the reader about an event which may occur. Then it occurs. Foreshadowing.
This one may be less obvious. Let’s say, for instance, that the protagonist notices that it is a cloudy day when he wakes up that morning. It’s an offhanded observation about the weather. Who cares? It’s easy to pass over. Then, lo and behold, later in the day, it starts to rain. We have no excuse to be surprised at this. We were warned it was a cloudy day. Rain should not catch us off-guard. The writer makes an observation about an event currently in-progress which has predictable outcomes, then one of those outcomes occurs. If the observation is never acted upon, that is, if it never rained that day and nothing related to the cloudy sky ever comes to pass, then the observation is extraneous and the writer might consider removing it from the narrative.
A rumble of thunder, you say? Well, that is altogether immediate! If it thunders, the chance of rain is high. It’s downright expected. In this case, foreshadowing is occurring overtly. The reader can easily predict rain, and their guess (it’s still a guess) that a storm is nigh can be rewarded by the expected outcome. The writer is giving a very obvious clue about the events that will shortly follow the foreshadowing in the narrative, and it’s up to the reader to pick up on these clues. If, for example, the reader did not catch the thunder, then the downpour on the following page will be a surprise, but it’s so obvious that thunder is a harbinger of a storm that the reader can hardly fail to understand the writer’s intent.
Alright, that’s all well and good, but what if it doesn’t rain? If all clues point to rain and there is not a drop to be found, then we’ve got a red herring on our hands.
Red Herring (n): Something, esp. a clue, that is or is intended to be misleading or distracting.
If there is thunder but no rain, or if the weatherman forecasts a storm which never comes to pass, that is (or it should be) intentionally misleading information. The writer employing this device should know the difference between extraneous information and a red herring.
Extraneous information is a detail that is presented to the reader, never to be commented on again. It is information that the reader doesn’t need to know in order to navigate the story’s plot. If you write something that might be foreshadowing or a red herring, but the event being foreshadowed (or for which a red herring is laid) never occurs, the foreshadowing or red herring is an example of extraneous information. Get rid of it!
The flip-side of extraneous information is a hanging thread, which is when an event occurs that is never explained. Hanging threads are empty spaces where plot should be but isn’t. If an event isn’t foreshadowed, meaning it comes as a real shock for the reader, and that event is never explained or otherwise resolved, it is a hanging thread. Tie that mother up!
A red herring is there to pleasantly disarm the reader. Extraneous information and hanging threads are just wicked.
Red herrings are clues dropped by the writers to draw the reader into making predictions that eventually prove to be incorrect. Is this an awesome literary device? Yes! Should you be careful and thorough when using it? Absolutely!
Now for the finale. How do you foreshadow and lay red herrings?
Backwards. Foreshadowing is also known as “backwriting” because it is best done from the climax or realization of the event being foreshadowed to the beginning of the story. You’re basically counting backwards from 10. Count slowly (see below).
Write first, foreshadow/red herring later. Worry about getting the plot down in your first draft. If you’re able to add some foreshadowing in there, go right ahead, but the strongest instances of foreshadowing are often added once you’ve completed your first draft and are able to see the big picture. Plan to include foreshadowing, but don’t worry too much about it until you’re holding a complete plot in your hands.
Know how much is too much. If you’ve got foreshadowing of a looming character death on every page of your book, the reader may already be bored of the idea by the time they actually read the scene.
A small event does not require a ton of foreshadowing. You don’t need a parade of foreshadowing to offer clues to the reader that it might rain. Size your events and present your foreshadowing accordingly.
Read and re-read with an eye on your story for foreshadowing/red herrings. Remove anything that is too obvious, or space out instances of foreshadowing in your story until the event is realized.
Now hand it off to someone else. You’re the writer. Your idea of foreshadowing in your story may be too vague or too overt. Let someone else read your story and tell you if the event you thought you foreshadowed came as an unintended shock or worse, a bore.
Foreshadowing is an incredibly useful and versatile tool. We have outlined the basics, but we want to reiterate that getting the hang of foreshadowing requires trial and error in every story, so don’t worry if you’re not an expert overnight!
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