The Theme is Out There

I smiled when I read Katy’s Monday post about truth. My husband and I are currently watching through the X-Files TV series on Netflix. Mulder and Scully’s search for truth is fraught with lies which, when taken together, lead to truth. How is that possible?

Someone once said that truth is the version of events the majority agree upon.  Especially when it comes to murky events like history (Churchill famously said, “History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it.”)

Fiction is about telling the truth via the valley of the shadow of lies.

So what sort of truth are we talking about here?

My dad loves to tell me that Louis L’Amour stories are accurate. “If, in one of his stories, he says there’s a rock in such and such a place, if you go to that place that rock will be there.”

Dad tells me this often, using the voice and posture of one truly impressed with L’Amour’s precision. It is, my dad seems to think, important not to mess up a good story by throwing rocks around willy-nilly.

Look around any bookstore and you’ll see heaps of fiction based on “actual events,” or “real history,” or “inspired by the author’s experience.” There’s something enticing about the story being real.

Real is true, but that doesn’t make it Truth.

When we talk about truth in fiction, what we mean is how affecting is the story’s ability to examine strings of small truths that lead up to the unveiling of a singular large truth?

This is theme at work.

As a story swims upstream to its end, the writer endeavors to explore as many facets and versions of the singular truth as possible within the limits of character and story.

Doesn’t that sound lovely?

So, if theme is the exploration of deep truth, why do writers struggle with theme? (And we all do)

In my journey from fly-by-my-pants to full-fledged planner, the one aspect of outlining I’ve resisted hardest has been writing a theme line. A single sentence that encapsulates the life-essence of the story I am creating.

It’s taken me years to surrender to the theme line. Why? At first, I thought it was because theme is supposed to be organic, something that springs out of my characters and their interactions.

Wrong.

Then, I was convinced that theme was too multifaceted to truly be captured in a sentence. After all, why write a whole novel about it if a single string of words does the trick?

Wrong again.

Recently, I discovered the true root of my resistance: theme lines read like clichés.

To quote a famous saying, writers are to avoid clichés like the plague.

Flee from them! Curse them. Expunge them from the sacred carvings.

So, when I sit my writer self in the chair and hammer up the scaffolding for my precious, profound story, writing a pithy theme line feels close to treason.

Insert Valium here.

Theme line is not an end unto itself. It’s a guidepost pointing to the ultimate large truth that lingers with the reader after they have finished the last page.

It is the meeting place for the moral conflict between characters.

It is the high bar the hero must clear (or fail to clear) in order to change from who he is at the beginning of the story.

Cliché though it may sound, a theme line is important (critical?) to your story.

There’s a pile of reasons why, but mostly it’s because the theme line encapsulates the Truth you desire to tell in your story. Without a clear vision of the central truth you wish to convey, you are in danger of writing a story that contains a cluster of small truths that lead the reader nowhere.

I’m working on two novels*. One is a complex story that includes time jumping. I’ve been thinking about this story for about 2 years. The theme line: Only when we accept our true self can we find peace.

Deceptively simple. Hedging close to the cliché line (if it doesn’t just stomp all over it), and it doesn’t begin to reveal the complexity of the story. But look what it does:

1)   Tells me where to start my main character reveal: she does not accept her true self. She’s hiding something specific from herself.
2)   Points toward the protag’s weakness and need.
3)   Guides me toward the ways in which my protag will act (especially the kinds of immoral actions she will take)
4)   Reveals the first point of attack by my opponent and by allies (a good ally will attack the protag out of love and a desire to fix the problem).
5)   Helps me develop all my other characters as variations of the same theme.
6)   Informs the unique method I will use to tell the story and reveal the hidden secrets in the plot.
7)   Gives me a moral ending to the story—something to prove or, in some cases, disprove. It tells me what my hero will learn at the end (to accept herself, and to stop lying to get what she wants)

When it comes to crafting your novel, the theme is in there, and getting it down on paper will help you get the truth out there.

*For interested parties, the theme line for the second novel I’m working on is still in process, but at this point in time it reads: Sometimes a great love must be sacrificed for the sake of the greater good.

Of Befuddlement and Theme

It’s not enough to know how to do something. You have to know how to speak and/or write it, meaning that you use the correct vocabulary. And then, if you know how to communicate it, you can teach it to others.

When I taught 4^th and 5^th grade, mastery of multiplication included vocabulary words like factor, multiple, and product. Easy!

No one asked me to teach calculus. Reason #1: I didn’t know how to do calculus. #2: I didn’t know calculus-ese.

For the last year, I’ve been focusing on mastering the concept of story structure.

This should be straight forward. Stories have been around since people formed language, and much of what the ancients wrote about story—Plato and Aristotle, for instance—is still true today. Good stories share common attributes.  And there are lots and lots of books out there to teach me everything I need to know.

A smidgen of frustration (understatement) entered my quest for knowledge because people who write about writing, don't use the same vocabulary. For instance, there's "theme." Theme influences character arc and the internal and external conflicts of a story. In fact, theme should influence absolutely everything in a story.

Again, talking about theme should be straight forward.

It’s not.

Especially if you read more than one book on the subject. Maybe I should have been a mathematician, specializing in elementary math skills. There’s not an ounce of ambiguity about the definition of a sum or what a rhombus looks like.  (Polygons rule!)

But I’m a writer. I should have read ONE really good book about structure and been satisfied. Instead, I read five, which has landed me straight into the category of befuddlement. (The Category of Befuddlement would be a great book title. Dibs!)

I’ve experienced this befuddlement because each author presented different definitions for theme that were enough alike that I could eventually say, “Ah-ha! They’re talking about theme!” But two of the authors gave theme a new name. 

Is theme a bad word?

The first book I read, of course, was John Truby’s book, The Anatomy of Story, strongly suggested by Bonnie. Truby says at the beginning of the “Moral Argument” chapter that “a great story is not simply a sequence of events or surprises designed to entertain an audience. It is a sequence of actions, with moral implications and effects, designed to express a larger theme.”

I get that. Tell me more!

Theme is the author’s view of how to act in the world. It is your moral vision. Whenever you present a character using means to reach an end, you are presenting a moral predicament, exploring the question of right action, and making a moral argument about how best to live. Your moral vision is totally original to you and expressing it to an audience is one of the main purposes of telling a story.

This was a new way for me to look at theme, but it made sense. When I tested the idea against stories I’d read, it worked. Suzanne Collins must believe that personal sacrifice is the highest form of love. Lisa See believes traditions can tie a family together and rip them apart. Anne Tyler believes that what we may think is loving, others see as belittling and settling.

Alan Watt in The 90-Day Novel comes up with his own name for theme. He calls theme the dilemma.

There is a dilemma at the heart of every story…It is the core struggle around which every character in the story revolves. Some people call this the theme (Thanks for the hint, Mr. Watt.) or the dramatic question. It is personal to the hero yet universally relatable to the reader.”

Most recently, I picked up The Moral Premise by Stanley D. Williams, Ph.D. He’s talking about theme as the moral premise. This is how he introduces moral premise:

Every…physical obstacle that the protagonist confronts is rooted in a single psychological, spiritual, or emotional obstacle. And to overcome the many physical obstacles, the protagonist must first overcome the singular psychological obstacle that his journey…is really about…Moral Premise—a statement of truth about the protagonist’s psychological predicament.

These authors are saying very similar things about theme. It’s up to me to create a working definition of theme for my writing. I’m very tempted to go back where I started, with Truby—“theme is how the author believes the world should work.” While these other writers on theme have deepened, corroborated, and expanded my understanding, I prefer this simple yet widely applicable definition. 

Distilling down the themes of books you’ve read—or written—is a great exercise. I’m a bit tardy, but I’ve done just that for my novels, plus my work in progress:

Like a Watered Garden: Expanding our perception of others allows us to grow and gain independence.

Always Green: Friendship is the best foundation for romantic love.

In Every Flower:  Being a family requires more courage than love and the ability to bend and stand against resistance.

The Queen of Sleepy Eye: Harsh judgment of others leads to self-incrimination. Forgiveness leads to personal growth and deeper love.

Seeing Things: We hang on to those we love by surrendering our desire to control them.

Goodness & Mercy: Running away from guilt only brings us back where we started.

Ring!: To free ourselves from regret, we must live without excuses and embrace living in the present.

Notice that theme is not the storyline (plot) or premise (one sentence that tells what happens to start a story and what the protagonist is going to do about it). Theme is the underlying truth of the story from the author's perspective.

What are the themes from your stories? What frustrations have you come across as you’ve learned the craft of writing? Is there a danger in reading too many writing books? What contradictory advice have you been given either by a teacher or in a book? And by the way, if I've got this theme-thing all wrong, tell me now!

ROUNDTABLE: Starting with the Basement

As a teacher, I loved introducing my students to Jane Yolen's books, especially "Owl Moon," a story rich in figurative language and evocative illustrations. After story circle, I would send my students back to their seats to write their own "Owl Moon" stories about outings with people they loved.

Imagine my delight when I discovered Jane Yolen had written a book for writers--Take Joy, A writer's Guide to Loving the Craft.

Okay, so it's not a new book (published in 2006), but it's new to me!

The book is full of practical insights into writing that do indeed re-spark affection for a craft that's keeping me indoors on a perfectly fabulous fall day. And with a deadline looming, some affection is truly needed.

Yolen likens developing theme for a novel to building the basement of a home during a Rocky Mountain winter. The ground must be warmed with heaters and fans to allow for digging. And

by the time the ground is artificially thawed, chances are the snow is flying. The holidays draw nigh. The price of lumber goes up. The contractor tightens the schedule, works on Saturdays, bribes the subcontractors to come at all.

However..."A story does not begin with the impulse to build a basement."

And so, most stories do not begin with the theme either. I've started with titles, characters, and a snippet of an idea. Never theme.

Oddly enough, once a story is started--and that can mean in the first through third draft--the foundation must be strengthened.

To find your theme, ask yourself what your story is about. It's that simple. The answer may seem boring, but if you've built a home, the foundation while critical, was probably ho-hum. Here are the themes of my stories:

A young widow must choose to live well after her husband dies.
A young woman (same widow, next book) learns to trust God in the midst of "storms."
A young woman (same widow, newly married) must commit to her new life while honoring her old life.

A mother and daughter come-of-age during turbulent times.
A mother seeks forgiveness and reconciliation with a grown son.

These are NOT pitch statements (Not one of these books would have sold!) and neither is a theme.

Once the draft is finished (whichever you choose), it's time to comb through and make sure that everything aligns itself with the foundation/theme with care that you haven't beaten your reader over the head with said theme.

Be subtle, yet consistent.

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When thinking of theme, the line from A Christmas Story comes back to me when Ralphie's teacher announces to the class, "I want you to write...a theme." All the kids groan, but Ralphie lights up! He knows exactly what he wants - a Red Rider BB gun with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time. I wish my characters were so focused. It would be so much easier to pin down the theme if only I knew what they wanted.

Sometimes I start with what I imagine my characters want, only to discover that a bigger, better theme has risen from the building materials. I start out with a root cellar with bare walls and a door and expand it, digging away the hillside and framing the open space. I also have to make sure the story and theme are in proper balance by not building an 8 bedroom mansion on the foundation of a summer cottage. If the theme is out of proportion to the story, it may not support such a heavy treatment, or if the theme is weighty, the 'house' must not disappoint.

Here are the themes for my stories:
A mother moves beyond tragedy to win the heart of her estranged daughter.
A woman overcomes the past in order to help a young woman close to her.

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I'm married to a man who's been a builder since he was 21 years old. I've been on a lot of his job sites, and even helped him stand the first wall of the home we live in, so I know a bit about foundations. I love the quote from Jane Yolen, "A story does not begin with the impulse to build a basement." So true, and like Patti, I've never started a novel with a theme in mind. Instead, I've started most with a "what if ...?" My WIP began with a "what if ...?" followed closely by the working title, the significance of which is woven through the story.

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The theme, for me, always arises from my "what if ...?" What if a woman discovers that everything she thought she knew about her marriage turns out to be a lie? The theme that emerged from that "what if ...?" A woman faces hard truths to move beyond her husband's infidelity. Or, what if a woman who chose not to have children decides to help her best friend have a child when the friend is unable to conceive on her own? Extreme friendship knows no bounds.

~

But I have to confess, themes aren't always so easy for me to identify, even in my own books. I find it difficult to reduce three or four hundred pages of story to one line. But really, discovering theme is part of the pleasure of reading -- or writing -- for me. Never, during the course of reading a novel do I think, "Ah, so this is the theme," but once I close the final page I like for the theme to settle over my mind like a gentle snow. No hail storms for me, thank you very much. I know, that's a terrible mix of metaphors -- foundations and hailstorms -- but you get the point. I don't want to be bludgeoned with theme. I want to reach my own conclusions, as I think most readers do. And it's very likely my conclusions might differ from yours, because everyone reads a book with a different life experience, and that will always affect the impact of the story on the reader.

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Theme? We're supposed to think about theme? I have to confess that I'm plot and agenda driven. I want to tell a good story. I want someone to take action, to think differently after reading what I write.

I want to create a world that someone won't forget and that will stand like a boulder in the road of their thoughts -- that will require them now to negotiate with, or climb over, or intentionally and inconveniently walk around every time they think about a congruent situation.

I may start with a controlling image, or I may have a nagging question about "how things work in the real world," but my thinking about theme doesn't come out in sentences. I must be theme-defective.

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My hand is up. I confess. I'm a theme junkie. I stuffed Talking to the Dead with themes that interest me - themes I see in life around me, some I wrestle with myself, and none of which I have answers for. I guess I build my house upside down, but themes come first for me.

I'm a concepts person. I never understood math; numbers refuse to speak to me, the turn their spiny backs to me and tilt their fractions in the air. But algebra? Ooooo baby. Loved it. Give me theoretical conceptualization any day of the week.

In addition to the overt themes of a young widow fearing her sanity because she hears the voice of her dead husband, I explored themes such as:

The Waiting Room - Kate spends a fair amount of time waiting in reception areas, lobbies, foyers, and waiting rooms. Each waiting room experience marks a new phase of her journey. There are many meanings and conversations readers could have about the waiting rooms.

Obsession - the ultimate anti-love emotion is obsession. The theme of obsession runs through the book and is expressed in different character's action. It's a dark theme, but it fascinates me.

Idolatry - Hand in glove with obsession is idolatry. Kate had idols, Kevin did, so did Heather and Donna. This was a theme nearly as strong as the main theme.

Emotional vs. Rational Responses - There is a tension in the book between the emotional and the rational. Neither one comes out a clear winner - but there is a discussion that can be found in the book about balancing the two in a third arena.

Somatic Experience of Emotions - Kate's feelings were overwhelmingly strong. All emotion is felt somewhere in the body as well as in the mind.

These are some of the themes in the book. I told you, I'm a theme junkie. And the way I understand theme is, I guess, different than that of my amazing blog mates. But that's okay, it all works out in the end.

How about you? What themes do you like to explore in your reading? Your writing? Are there themes you find yourself going back to time and again? Or do you enjoy a buffet of themes, never the same morsel twice? Have you found a sure fire way of identifying the themes in works you love or are writing? We're all ears.