It's all over modern narrative: The practice of writing a long-form piece and making every single loose end tie in by the end, causing seemingly throwaway characters/plot lines to balloon into what-a-tweest surprises and/or forcing casual readers to flip back hundreds of pages to remind themselves of insignificant details which are now inflated with meaning. It's so endemic in a certain author's work, I call it Gaiman-ing. This is bad writing, for a number of reasons, but it's alluring as hell. In the process of creating my world for Soil, Ocean, Air, I found myself skirting this approach. Time to "Stop, breeeathe, think," as my mother (and Blue's Clues, I believe) would encourage.
I started grouping together the reasons why I crave such neat wrap-ups, but it turned out that they were all facets of one thing: Pay-off.
I get a little endorphin rush when I solve a puzzle. Doing so in a story with the fewest pieces possible feels economical and smart. Then I feel smart and I want to show it off. "Wow," the throngs will cheer, "I totally see what you did there. That is so smart. I am in the Clever Club with you, Wirtz! What a great book!" Then they will do the thing I want most--more than reading my work once, they will read it again, now a little smugger because they are in the know. And then they will tell the people they know to read my book because they, like their dear author, will want their friends to join in the satisfaction with them. Gold!
Or is it?
Since I have a complete say in how all my pieces function together, I can make this happen all the time. This kind of control is what drew me to fantasy in the first place. The whole world is mine to play with, and that feels great. But is it really good? Well, yes and no, and that's what makes the line fine.
Set up and pay off is what stories are all about, and ham-fisted over-establishing is as much a problem as gimmicky under-establishment. Browbeating your reader is easier to catch, though, especially because it seems so amateurish when compared to the "cleverness" of surprising them. That's the fallacy, though. If you aren't writing a mystery, why would you be so disingenuous as to hide the (major) aspects of your plot from your reader? Aren't they strong enough to exist honestly? Or perhaps they reflect the self-serving (because "President of the Clever Club" is self-service at heart) impulse to make your story a rollercoaster of out-of-nowhere surprises? It feels good, I know. But it's an animal pleasure in a human brain, and it's got to go before a work can really shine. If a straight-forward approach means you tell a boring story, then write a better one. You might be able to spice it up and add some filler and twists, but that's starting to sound like a Cheeto, and Orange Guilt never satisfies for long.
In part, this is a factor of having so much control over one's own world. I've started thinking about my fantasy novel as a fiction that happens to be set in a world with new rules on another world. It helps me remember that in narratives that approximate reality, most details are just details. It's equally unrealistic that every loose end would be tied up in modern indie fiction. Improbable things happening become eddies in the story (Think meet-cute when you think twist. How does that make you feel?). Lasche and Larkin happen to run into each other again in Greengate and it is a big deal to both of them. It's important to the plot, too. But the axe Arlo leaves at the farm is never going to come back into play. Cross my heart. Real work is real. Don't make your readers suspicious by lying to them about what they should be paying attention to, no matter how many opportunities you have to outwit them. Remember, that's not hard to do the first time; they don't know anything, and they're trusting you to tell them a story, skillfully unfolding it as an honest guide.
I love details, and characters, too. If a character fascinates me, I want to make sure they get some face time. If a detail enriches the world, I want to highlight it. The real art comes in giving a character or a detail relevance in a paragraph, a sentence, a word. And if I love them, I set them free. After all, who knows what the thought "What happens to Daen's girlfriend?" could inspire in your reader's mind? Letting some element just be makes your world richer, and wider, too. Honest storytelling, imaginative writing and artful reveals will equal repeat reads. No tricks necessary.
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