Showing vs. Telling: Subtexting

In Bonnie's fabulous post on Showing vs. Telling, she mentioned two major components - POV and subtext. I thought that today we would dig further into subtext.

Subtext is elusive and often revealed by dialogue. Randy Ingermanson (the Snowflake Guy) summed it up on his website, Advanced Fiction Writing. You can check it out here.

'Roughly speaking, subtexting refers to the art of putting a whole different layer of meaning under the surface, so that the dialogue is not really about what the dialogue appears to be about.'

Subtext can be implied or it can deliberately disguise. Some authors use it to state a belief, further a cause or even hint at a relationship that may offend the sensibilities of some readers. In any case, a good writer utilizes subtext rather than writing 'on the nose'. 'On the nose' dialogue states what the author wants to say in no uncertain terms and sounds unnatural and contrived. In normal conversation, people often don't say what they really mean. If April is asked if she's upset that her boyfriend broke up with her, she may reply that he was a loser anyway and by-the-way, she's having the stupid tattoo they got together removed from her...shoulder. Her friends will give each other knowing looks behind her back, and although she never admitted to being hurt, they know she is.

Subtext can be witty. Think of Nick and Nora Charles of the Thin Man (am I dating myself?). Seriously, you should rent a few of the Thin Man movies if you haven't seen them already. Their relationship always simmers just below the surface and often complicates whatever murder they are investigating.

Nick and Nora's subtext may be easy to spot, but in most cases, the writer has to trust that his readers 'get it.' Subtlety is the signature trait of subtext. By nature, it is elusive and felt more than seen. And it makes for a much better story. Without it, the story will seem contrived and moralistic.

What stories can you think of that do this well? We'd love to hear from you!

Subtext in Fiction

I hear it too - the swirling discussion that patters like rain on a roof - rain that never stops, though it may diminish to mist for a time, but will, invariably, begin to pour again. It starts in the book store or the coffee shop, or the writer's conference, or inside the pages of a book, and one person leans in to the ear of another and says, "Christian fiction?" And the answer comes, "What is wrong with Christian fiction?"

The question is so used now it's thread bare - but we use it still, because, most likely, no one has come up with a more useful answer. Recently I listened in on a roundtable discussion involving representatives from Christian retail stores. The host asked something like, "Is Christian fiction growing up?" The unanimous response was, "Yes!" (oh joy!) followed by a singular punctuating voice that said, "Finally!" (oh dear!)

It made me wonder, "How do they know? By what standard are they measuring this perceived maturation?" I've asked around, and while there is general agreement that the quality of Christian fiction is on the rise, no one could put their finger on any one measurement. And when I stumbled on a possible answer for both the question and the reason no one can point to it, I had to smile.

I smiled because the answer is one of the most difficult things in fiction writing to talk about - subtext.

Subtext is more easily recognized by its absence - oh blah, the story is flat and cliched - than it is by its presence -the words lingered long after I put the book down.

What lingered? The tight writing? The apt similes? The arching metaphor? No, the subtext. Charles Baxter says subtext is ". . . the realm of what haunts the imagination: the implied, the half-visible, and the unspoken." He also uses the phrase, "unspoken soul-matter".

Subtext is created by crafting together elements of story which point to deeper meanings than what is being played out on the page. Elements such as staging, dialogue, description, inflection, irony - yes the very things we use to create plot, we also use to create subtext. And it is wholly intended. It is crafted, meant to be there, lingering below the surface, unexpressed but as solidly present as the characters themselves. They are the invisible threads that hold the story together, make it compelling, and give it meaning.

In Gilead, Marilynne Robinson creates John Ames, a Reverend, elderly and ill who writes to his too young son about his life in hopes of imparting something of himself to the boy who will grow up without his father. Listen to all that is not said here:

"And memory is not strictly mortal in its nature, either. It is a strange thing, after all, to be able to return to a moment when it can hardly be said to have any reality at all, even in its passing. A moment is such a slight thing. I mean, that its abiding is a most gracious reprieve."

The unexpressed yearning in this short passage caused me to lower the book to my lap and stare out the window, thinking for a long time. It made me want to call my children in from the backyard and hold them.

There is a small but growing number of Christian fiction writers who have allowed their theology to move from obvious and stated, to the realm of subtext where - though whispered, and even unspoken, it speaks to the the soul of the reader with great efficacy.

It is difficult to discuss sub-text, but that shouldn't stop us trying. Can you point to a book that has lingered with you - spoken to you in whispers? Can you point to a scene in a book that spoke of something with such clarity without actually speaking of it?

Writers, how have you begun to use subtext in your writing?