Craft Issue: Expositions

Last week, during one of my “moments” (I suck at life; I’m not good at anything; I’m a failure and will be so for the rest of my life; etc.) I began to wonder what I really learned from all the books I’ve read. I read a lot of fiction--novels, plays, short stories--and convince myself that all this reading isn’t just for fun but absolutely essential to my learning as a scholar of literature and a fiction writer. However, I feel that most of the time I’m just trying to finish whatever it is I’m reading as quickly as possible and don’t really absorb much of what I’m reading. Once in a while I would spend some time doing close-reading or discussing different literary elements in the work, but that is very rare because I am such a slow reader and taking the time to do that just makes the reading take even longer. Well, on that day I felt that all the reading I had done had amounted to nothing, that it was all a waste of time because I had gained nothing in the process. (I told you I was having one of those moments.) In an attempt to not ever feel like that again, I have decided to spend more time paying attention to the things I read.

One of the problems that I’m constantly dealing with is the fact that I feel like I’m worse of a writer than I used to be when I was younger and knew less. It didn’t make any sense and it pissed me off. I studied hard because I thought it would help me, but instead it made me feel completely clueless about my craft. In an attempt to keep myself from just ending this life once and for all, I decided to deny the fact and change it. This is my philosophy: if you don’t like anything the way it is, deny it and make it good. That is, I refuse to accept the fact that all my hard work is worthless, and will now make something out of it--something grand. So, yesterday I decided to learn--or, rather, relearn--about one of the craft issue in fiction writing, which was how to write an exposition. I must have spent some time in college pondering over this issue in class or in my own private studies, but it had been a while so it wasn’t a bad idea to return to it once again. I went over a few short stories I had recently read in my new anthology of short stories and paid attention to how the authors started their stories. All I did was observe, and I spent very little time doing it.

Gaitskill’s “Romantic Weekend”
Began by introducing one of the protagonists (there are two) and her problem: she was having an affair with a married man and she had self-esteem issue. The story is about these two people and their S/M relationship, which isn’t introduced here just yet.

Ford’s “Rock Springs”
Began with introducing the narrator and another main character in the story, as well as the journey they are on together. Then it tells us the troubles each of them is in so that we get to know them and their situations right away. In one paragraph, Ford tells us the who, what, and where of the story, which I find pretty neat.

Dybek’s “Chopin in Winter”
The first paragraph is rather short in comparison to those of the other stories I’m discussing here. It introduces two main characters in the story, neither of whom is the narrator/protagonist. The paragraph didn’t tell us much about the story, but it was probably the best way to begin the story, since the story is about the narrator’s relationships with these two characters.

Braverman’s “Tall Tale from the Mekong Delta”
The first paragraph of this storIssuey gives us one piece of information after another. It introduced the narrator, where she is in life, and the time in which the story takes place. We learn more and more about her, then about another main character. It tells us a lot about the narrator and refrains from telling us what the story is about.

Just by observing these works I feel more confident in my ability to write expositions. I think I will be spending more time paying attention to these craft issues and see how it helps me. At the least it should make me feel more secure in my knowledge of fiction writing.