The following conversation actually took place:
Coworker: “How can I submit only the first chapter of my manuscript to a contest? The good stuff doesn’t start until chapter three—maybe four.”
Me: “Your story doesn’t begin where you think it begins.”
CW: “Sure as the day you were born, it starts in chapter one.”
Me: “As it should. However, you sound like a classic example of a ‘background dump’.”
CW: “I’m not picking up what you’re laying down.”
Me: “You’ve most likely done what yours truly did while attempting my first stories: took my protagonist’s history—all that made him what he was the first time he was introduced—and put all those bits and pieces into the opening chapter.”
CW: Deer-in-the-headlights-look.
Me: “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You rookie.”
CW: Cornering me at a round table. “I have ears.”
Me: “Your setting is a fish tank. Fill it with exotic plants, a burger shop and a light that never goes off. Your characters are…?”
CW: Shrugs.
Me: “Your characters are fish.”
CW: “Now I’m following your tracks.”
Me: “Okay. On your first page, your protagonist—say, an angelfish—is dropped into the above tank and then chased by a crazed neon tetra. Angel’s story has begun with action, not dump.”
CW: “And a little mystery, which ain’t bad.”
Me: “Well done, Rookie. Every good story starts with some sort of action—although that may mean death. Now, while hiding in a plastic log, your angelfish meets a guppy—you’ve added romance. Unfortunately, your angelfish is afraid of falling in love again—insert some fish flakes.”
CW: Cocked eyebrow.
Me: “All that stuff you put into the first chapter, a.k.a. background dump? Look at it as fish food. You need to sprinkle it here and there throughout your story. Now, not all of your protagonist’s love life is needed at first, perhaps not anywhere in the story for that matter, just the applicable stuff.”
CW: “I’m fishing for an example.”
Me: “Background can come in containers of one or two pages or one or two sentences. For instance, Angel knew he’d be a goner if he looked at Guppy any longer. With every nano-ounce of aquatic instinct left in him, he resisted. Never again would he fall in love. No, no, Shelly had ruined that chance. She had stayed hidden for long periods of time only to emerge crabby. Search published fiction for excellent fish food and read how it’s done. That’s all I have.”
CW: “I’m following your wavelength. But ain’t there no exceptions?”
Me: “To every rule, Rookie. To every rule.”
So you see, fishers of characters, the background of a protagonist or antagonist makes him or her what he or she is the moment your story opens. Just don’t empty the container of fish flakes all at once.
Bits and pieces of history create a whole character when readers first meet them. Your character will then need to develop, or “arc,” to the place we leave them at the end of the story—fish flakes sprinkled throughout, if needed.
Wow, I’m hungry. Anybody want to meet me at Long John Silvers? Red Lobster?
An entertaining example of excessive backstory, Rainey. The fish flakes are perfect!
very cute Rainey – all thoughtful issues for us hesitant and inexperienced authors.
Janet–thank you! Some of that conversation really did happen.
Judith–thank you, as well. Someday, we’ll both be experienced authors. As far as hesitancy goes, I don’t have much of that once an idea forms, but still happy for “delete” “backspace” and “save as” 🙂