The term “unreliable narrator” has been circulating widely (and sometimes pretty loosely) since Wayne Booth published The Rhetoric of Fiction, in 1961. The idea is superficially paradoxical: Our only access to a fictional world is through the eyes of the narrator. How can we know better than to believe what the narrator says?

In a way, we can’t. We have to accept the “facts” of a story as given. Generally, the unreliability has to do with interpretations and conclusions. The recipe for the unreliable narrator is to present observable actions and dialogue, then have the narrator interpret them, either in dialogue or in thought.

In The Turn of the Screw, for example, the “facts” of the story, as given to us by the governess-narrator, are that the governess sees the ghost of the dead man Quinn, while the housekeeper and the children say they don’t see him. Is the narrator delusional?

She says not. She asks us to believe that the children are lying and the ghost is deliberately not appearing to the housekeeper. She bases her beliefs on very subtle cues. It is impossible not to question her inference (and her sanity)—but who knows? Maybe she’s right!

Lesley Kagen’s narrator, ten-year-old Sally, in Whistling in the Dark, is unreliable because she’s young. When she hears that her daddy is a lush, she looks the word up in the dictionary and concludes, endearingly, that he is luxurious—like chocolate cake. A gap opens between Sally’s understanding and ours.

Kagan’s novel has a thrilling premise: this unprotected child has suspicions about adults at a time when a child-killer is on the loose in her town. Her innocence makes her vulnerable, and we are all the more fearful for her because of that.

Narrators are characters, and like anybody else, they may be naïve, biased, forgetful, irrational or downright insane. Any one of these traits can make the narrator the kind of person whose perception you might second-guess.

The narrator of The Girl on the Train is an alcoholic, and that compromises her credibility as a narrator. Sometimes she can’t remember what she’s done. And sometimes she is so overwhelmed by self-loathing that she cannot perceive others clearly. Here again, the narrator’s flawed perception ramps up the sense of danger.

In some of the best mysteries, the narrator (or viewpoint character) is unreliable in yet another sense—the detective is obtuse! If the author “plays fair” in a mystery, the solution is revealed in clues before the detective figures it out. The reader has a chance to solve the mystery.

The detective, though otherwise portrayed as smart and observant, draws false conclusions along the way, spins false theories, suspects one wrong person after another, until that light bulb moment when the mystery is solved. The reader, thus distracted, doesn’t see the solution before the revelation at the end. You could make a case that mystery works best when the narrator is unreliable but the reader doesn’t know it.

I was actually surprised when the main character of my own book was first labeled an unreliable narrator. She lies to other characters, so it’s fair to call her a liar, but she never once lies to the reader in narration.

She does, however, keep a momentous secret hidden throughout the entire book, while parading it in front of the reader’s eyes. The trick for her was to set up the reader’s assumptions, then to remain silent. For me the challenge was to play fair (and I did).

Elizabeth Buhmann is the Author of Lay Death at Her Door. An old mystery comes unsolved when the man who was convicted of it is exonerated.

by Gale Albright

Writing fiction is hard.

That’s a very subjective statement. Do I mean it is just plain hard, all the time, in all kinds of weather? Do I mean it’s hard for me in general? Am I therefore implying that writing non-fiction is easy?

I mean writing fiction is hard compared to writing essays, journalistic pieces, blog posts, and publicity notices.

It’s not that these other forms of writing are easy.

What I’m really talking about are rules.

Yes, rules. There just aren’t that many rules in writing fiction. Fiction is very subjective.

Journalism and essay writing and blogging are, of course, subjective as well, but they have more rules.

You might say that lack of rules should make writing fiction easier. Your mind is free to run riot. There are no fences to block your imagination. You can roam wide and far in your creative mind and do just about anything you darn well please.

Yes. That’s what makes it hard. Hard for me, of course, since I’m creating a blog/essay here without using any rules to speak of. Except length. Length is a key factor in a blog post. As in, don’t make it very long.

Fiction doesn’t have that problem. You can write gigantic tomes like Stephen King and J.K. Rowling. However, if you are writing 100-word short, short, short fiction, then length is a consideration. But again, back to rules. When you write a 100-word piece of fiction, the number one rule is, only write 100 words. That will bring you up short (I like puns and word play, which everyone does not).

Despite tendencies to rebellion in general, I don’t do that well with absolute freedom when it comes to writing. Or anything else, for that matter. I’ve always whined about being subjected to structure, but I’m lost without it. That’s why I’m thankful for deadlines. They impose a structure. Instead of feeling oppressed by deadlines, I feel grateful. I have a clear goal. I have a path to follow. I won’t wander off and get lost in the weeds. With a deadline, I see a light at the end of the tunnel. That doesn’t mean I don’t grouse about it. I’m just a grouser (not a bird).

Journalism has rules. There’s word count based on available space. There’s the old “Who, What, When, Where, and Why,” plus maybe a “How.” Journalism, in the classic newspaper sense, forms stories in the shape of inverted pyramids. You get the most important stuff in the first paragraph, if possible, and sort out the details in order of descending importance. I can do that. I get that upside-down pyramid thing.

Of course, there’s more personal, artistic journalism, such as investigative reporting, in-depth interviews, political coverage, travelogues, etc. These articles are fancier than plain reporting, but they are still reporting about facts. With non-fiction, you have facts.

With fiction, you may not have any facts at all. You may have to make up a whole world full of monsters, or aliens, or talking animals, or zombies, or robots, or who knows what.

The sky is the limit with fiction. And too much sky makes me run for cover.

Some writers argue that fiction really does have rules, lots and lots of rules. But can you prove it? Is it a fact? Or is it just wishful thinking? If I follow X, Y, Z rules, will I be successful as a writer (recognition, big paycheck, personal satisfaction)? For every rule about fiction, you can find another rule that disputes the previous rule. That’s because it’s all made up. Fiction rules aren’t facts. They are usually just good ideas based on empirical, anecdotal evidence and personal experience.

You don’t have to tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about. Of course I don’t. If I could locate and apply the magic rule, I would have Stephen King and J.K. Rowling begging me to give them tips. I’d be rich. I’d be famous. Remember, this is a subjective blog post. I was taught long ago that the way to write an essay is: 1) Tell the reader what you are going to tell her; 2) Tell her; 3) Tell the reader what you just told her. I can do that. I can embrace that structure.

But when I write fiction, I’m alone on an unmanned ship on a storm-tossed sea, trying to steer around the jagged rocks. It’s very scary. Fiction rules can only take you so far.

It’s between you and the ocean.

Disclaimer: This is a totally subjective, personal, meandering essay that doesn’t follow any rules and is neither journalism nor fiction. Perhaps it should be a diary entry. To finish off my treatise (diatribe? unfounded rant? incoherent conjecture?), I will tell you what I already told you at the beginning and the middle. Writing fiction is hard.

By Gale Albright

Are translators poets? In the séance of life, are they the disembodied spirits who speak not beyond the grave, but beyond the language barrier?

I’ve always had a problem reading translated works. The problem being I wouldn’t read them. I figured I just wouldn’t get anything worth while. To coin a phrase, I thought everything would be lost in translation.

I was wrong.

To begin with, think how much knowledge, beauty, and experience I was missing. If Europeans followed my example, I assume no German or Frenchman would have ever heard of Shakespeare. They would say “Who’s Hamlet?”

See, I was so wrong.

Without talented, inspired translator Robert Fitzgerald, how could we thrill to phrases such as “rosy-fingered dawn” or the “wine-dark sea” in Homer’s Odyssey?

Someone else might have said “the ocean which has a purple shade somewhat like Chianti,” or the “sun rose with little pink things reaching out like tentacles to the sky,” or some such.

And there’s another point. Just any old translator won’t do. Surely the translator, to capture the essence, the heart and soul, the very being of the language and feeling and evoke the right responses in readers in a totally different language and cultural context, must be an artist himself.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robert-fitzgerald

And then there’s the slang, for heaven’s sake. Supposedly, Americans speak the same language as do the folk in the United Kingdom. But I had to stop watching Red Riding with one of my favorite actors, Sean Bean, because they might as well have been speaking Urdu, and I lost about 75 percent of the story. The same holds true for novels. They are full of local slang and colloquialisms. For example, Tana French writes in English and is a great writer, but her characters in the Dublin Murder Squad are always “taking the piss.” It’s not what it sounds like. From what I could gather, it means being teased or set up for a joke. So, suppose Tana French were not writing in English. Say, she was writing in Norwegian. And wrote down whatever the Norwegian police jargon for “taking the piss” is. Now you need a translator who is expert in English and Norwegian who can find a way to take local slang and make it accessible to English-speaking readers.

Take being separated by an uncommon language, trying to show English-speaking readers the heart and troubled soul of Harry Hole, Norwegian off-and-on-again reformed alcoholic, opium head, investigative genius, and jazz enthusiast and getting it right. Hitting my heart with the right arrow, where the words on the page take me on a flowing ride and where I care about these people named Oleg and Rakel. I get the humor that people who play tennis in Norway are regarded as dangerous because they’re not skiing.

Harry Hole has a friend, a genius forensic officer, a homegrown “hillbilly” who wears handmade suits ordered from Nashville, collects rockabilly records, and wears Rastafarian hats. I love this character.

Who makes it possible for me to love Harry Hole? Don Bartlett.

 http://www.worldliteraturetoday.org/translating-norways-love-literature#.VWsyepVFCic

 Yes, Don Bartlett, a denizen of the UK who has obviously been everywhere, examined everyone in every language, taught everyone, and translated everything. He translated all ten of Norwegian crime fiction writer Jo Nesbø’s Harry Hole novels into English. How does a British non-native Norwegian speaker manage to show me the tortured people of Oslo, which seems to be rife with serial killers, damaged detectives, and messed up relationships? He puts me inside the head of a crooked detective known as “Beavis” from boyhood because he has an under bite and a horrible laugh like the cartoon character. Or Harry, who is lovable, horrible, crazy, brilliant, funny, and out of control. The novels are scary, sometimes grisly, funny, and full of wry observations about Norwegian culture.

So, how much is Don Bartlett and how much is Jo Nesbø?

I don’t read Norwegian, so how do I know that whatever I read on the page is what Jo Nesbø means to say?

Is the translated crime novel a baby being ushered into daylight by a midwife translator, or is the translator more of a surrogate parent than a mere midwife?

I don’t know the answer. I just know I love these books. Maybe it’s magic.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jo_Nesb%C3%B8

by Gale Albright

My name is Gale and I am a workshop junkie.
Yes, I confess it freely. I love to attend workshops and take copious notes. That’s how it started out. But it’s a slippery slope. Now the addiction has escalated to organizing workshops. I’m standing on shadowy street corners, outside book stores, tempting the innocent to “Come hear the authors. Come to the workshops. It won’t cost you a thing…except your soul!!!”
Well, not really. Maybe I’m in denial, but if you love listening to writers talk about how they write, how they got published, and how they create memorable characters, it’s already too late for you. You are lost.
You are a writer. You are a reader. There’s no cure.
So join the other lost souls and come to a fabulous all-day free mystery writing workshop at BookPeople at Sixth Street and Lamar Boulevard on Saturday, May 23. There will be free door prizes, free parking, and free workshops. Who could ask for anything more?

Reavis Wortham, author of the Red River mystery series, is the first workshop speaker. He will discuss “the things an author learns once the manuscript goes into production, including those irritating proofs, writing tips, (cut those adverbs), bad habits, overused words, marketing, and how to up your game once the book is out. Is it a good idea to go to conferences? Do I need to network? Where to pitch a story to an agent (and not in the bathroom), and even where to write and edit.”
Kirkus Reviews listed his first novel, The Rock Hole, as one of “the top mysteries of 2011, written to the hilt and harrowing in its unpredictability.” Burrows, and The Right Side of Wrong have received critical acclaim from Publishers Weekly and The Library Journal.

George Wier presents the second workshop, which will be about editing, or as the author says, “Without Mercy: The alternative to hiring a contract killer—why the author should be his or her own best editor.”
George Wier wrote the Bill Travis Mysteries and co-authored Long Fall From Heaven (2013, Cinco Puntos Press). He writes principally mystery and science fiction. 1889: Journey to the Moon, co-authored with Billy Kring, was his first steampunk novel. The sequel, 1899: Journey to Mars was released in February 2015. His newest standalone mystery, Murder In Elysium, was released in March.

Our third author, Les Edgerton will present a workshop on protagonists and antagonists. He’ll be “introducing what may be a new concept to some writers—that thinking of protagonists and antagonists as heroes/heroines and villains/bad guys may be preventing the writer from creating complex characters and complex novels by viewing characters in moral terms (good vs. evil), resulting in one-dimensional, cardboard, cartoonish characters.”
Les Edgerton is a full-time writer and writing teacher. His eighteenth book, a black comedy crime caper, titled The Genuine, Imitation, Plastic Kidnapping came out in October from Down & Out Books. He has been nominated for or won numerous awards, including the Pushcart Prize, the O. Henry Award, the Derringer Award, Jesse Jones Book Award, Edgar Allan Poe Award (short story category), and the Violet Crown Book Award.

SATURDAY, MAY 23 SCHEDULE

10 AM–REAVIS WORTHAM
11:30 AM–LES EDGERTON
2 PM–GEORGE WIER
3:30 PM–PANEL DISCUSSION

BOOKPEOPLE THIRD FLOOR
603 N. LAMAR BLVD., AUSTIN, TX

FREE PARKING
FREE WORKSHOPS
FREE DOORPRIZES
COME FOR AN HOUR OR STAY ALL DAY

CO-SPONSORED BY BOOKPEOPLE AND
SISTERS IN CRIME: HEART OF TEXAS CHAPTER

What’s old is new again.

Welcome the new age of the podcast.  Many people compare podcasts to online radio, but they are different in that podcasts are recorded in advance and then ready to be listened to at your convenience. Podcasts, which have been around since about 2004, have been quietly plugging along in the background with little growth and not much buzz.

All that changed with Serial. Serial, a podcast produced by This American Life that turned into an obsession for many, chronicled an investigation of a fifteen year-old murder case (you can read my review of Serial here). It quickly became the fastest downloaded podcast on iTunes ever to reach 5 million listeners.

While a compelling listen is always a a good way to spend your time, listening to poorly-executed podcasts can be just as valuable as listening to outstanding ones. You can pinpoint when your attention is captured and when it wanes.   By listening to both ends of the storytelling-prowess spectrum, you can learn how to analyze your own project based upon your response to listening to other programs.

I suppose I am a bit nostalgic for that previous radio era, a time that had come and gone before I was even born. That said, this isn’t your granddad’s radio hour. Today’s long form storytelling podcasts are skillfully structured combining current techniques and an understanding of today’s listeners. They cover topics ranging from true crime and current events to the more nebulous but compelling topics. What does it mean to be happy and is chasing happiness really the answer? What happens when people are put in positions that are far out of their expertise? Why do people say such hateful things on the Internet? Each of these topics is tackled with a depth and skill guaranteed to keep you listening until the very end.

The master of this domain, in my opinion, is This American Life, with its substantial catalog of interesting episodes all crafted under Ira Glass’s gifted guidance. And, although I had heard of TAL, I never listened consistently until getting hooked on Serial.

I had no idea what I was missing.

So, storytellers, consider tuning in and downloading an episode or two the next time you go for a walk, a run, or a drive. Apple’s Podcast app is simple to use and there are also several options for listening on Android devices as well. Here are a few podcasts I hope you will consider:

Laura’s Podcast Recommendation List:

Serial:

This is the one that started it all for me. The investigation, handled deftly by Sarah Koenig, will keep you downloading one episode after another, causing you to ignore phone calls, dishes and possibly even your children.

serialpodcast.org

This American Life:

TAL is the wise and skilled parent of Serial, and many agree that they are masters of long form storytelling. Some of my favorite episodes include:

The House on Loon Lake, Episode #199: Described by TAL as a “real life Hardy Boys Mystery,” it’s the tale of what happens when a boy discovers an abandoned house and decides to find out what happened to the people who lived there.

Dr. Gilmer and Mr. Hyde: Episode #492: When Dr. Benjamin Gilmer lands a job working in a small clinic, he discovers he is replacing another doctor…also named Dr. Gilmer. The previous physician was serving time in prison for killing his own father, an act that those who knew the family couldn’t believe. As it turns out, there was far more to the story.

If You Don’t Have Anything Nice to Say, SAY IT IN ALL CAPS: Episode #545. Act I of this episode broke my heart. What happens when someone hides behind their anonymity on the Internet, bullying you and saying hateful things? One writer decides to confront her attacker–with surprising results. Note: This episode has some explicit language but there is a ‘bleeped’ version on TAL’s site.

Criminal:

This true crime podcast keeps things short and sweet, introducing a 20-30 minute episode monthly. My favorite episode chronicles Raymond Chandler fans–seventy-year-old newlyweds– working diligently to get something extremely important to Chandler back to where it belongs. A must for Chandler and mystery fans:

http://thisiscriminal.com/episode-thirteen-the-big-sleep-12-19-2014/ 

Startup:

This one caught my attention because it chronicled a man starting an Internet startup. As someone who has been involved with a company going through investment funding and working on pitches and PR during the tech bubble, I found this one hit close to home. In a surprising twist, it also shows the challenges of starting a new tech business while trying to raise young children, giving it a more layered narrative and one that is far more compelling than a simple launch story. Not mystery based but great storytelling in a contemporary and intimate format. Side note–Alex Blumberg was a former TAL producer and left to start this company.

http://gimletmedia.com/show/startup/

–Laura Oles

by Laura Oles

Writers are a curious group, with many searching for tips to help us write faster, write better,  to create stronger stories with more compelling characters.   Sometimes the writing flows and it feels so effortless. When the writing gets difficult, it must mean we’re doing something wrong. We need to fix the struggle, to find a trick or technique to navigate the tough moments.

When I find myself in this position, I sometimes search for answers from my favorite novelists. The searching is also a form of procrastination. There must remain some skills I have not yet learned that would help me better manage these difficult patches in the creative process. Certainly some other successful writers and artists have insights that will guide me back toward the easier path, right?

Maybe mimicking successful writers’ habits would be the key, so I turned to Mason Curry’s Daily Rituals: How Artists Work to find the common thread that made so many of these artists successful. With 161 artists profiled, their common techniques would reveal themselves, right?

What this careful study in creative habits revealed was that there are as many paths to success as there are barbeque options in Texas. Some, like novelist Haruki Murakami, wake up early and embrace strict routines. Yet, Jane Austen wrote amidst the bustle of visitors, housework and entertaining with no schedule at all. Some creatives drank, others abstained, some wrote a little bit each day while others wrote in a frenzied spring to the finish line.

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed,” Hemingway said. His quote is a reminder that there isn’t a magic path to writing, a secret that will cure all that ails you (or your manuscript). There also isn’t one right way to approach the craft of storytelling. It’s simply a matter of sitting in front of the computer each day and fighting through the difficult moments, putting words to paper even if they aren’t quite the right words in quite the right order.

My well-worn copy, purchased at a bookstore in Maryland while traveling for work back in 1996. I still keep it close for inspiration and as a reminder to take my projects one step at a time.

I once had an impressive collection of writing reference books and, back then, I tried on advice like many try on clothes, searching for that perfect fit. I have since whittled the collection down to a handful of books that continue to provide guidance and help me get back on track. However, what helped more than anything was the realization that I had to find my own way. It was time to apply what I had learned, to shape it and make it my own. I had to quit trying to twist the routines and methods of others to fit my life, responsibilities and personality. Yes, I’ve learned quite a bit reading these books but there comes a time when practicing the craft trumps reading about it.

Sometimes the writing is hard. There is no easy answer when we hit a wall, stumble through the messy middle of a manuscript or realize a scene we love doesn’t serve the story. It’s a matter of digging in and staying with the work. Struggling is part of the process. And that realization actually makes the process easier. Now, instead of searching for the next strategy, I can get back to work instead.