I promised a post on “grounding” the reader in my real estate post a few days ago. Let me explain further. The reader is someone who picks up a book to read a story and have an experience. Since you know your story much better than the reader, it is your job to curate them through the story, to transition them from scene to scene and moment to moment in such a way that they follow you and focus stays on the story…instead of on the transitions and work you’re doing to put it together.
As soon as a reader gets confused or starts to see the man behind the Oz mask, if you will, meaning how you’ve put your story together or if something you’ve done isn’t working quite right, they get pulled out of the story. Novelist John Gardner is attributed to describing the act of reading as entering “the fictive dream.” Whatever takes you out of this dream — a strange transition, confusion, a glaring error, character inconsistency, implausible plot — is disruptive to the reader’s experience.
A really common way to wake someone up from the fictive dream is to not ground the reader at the beginning of chapters or in times of transition from one scene/plot point to the next. This is why it’s so important to “ground” the reader in these moments. Whenever a reader reads the first page of a book, the first paragraph of a new chapter, or the transition between two beats, scenes, or moments, they want to know four things:
- Who is involved in this story/chapter/scene?
- When is this (for the beginning of the novel) and when is this relative to the last chapter or scene (for the rest of the novel)?
- Where are we?
- What’s going on?
By grounding the reader, you are answering these questions right off the bat, so that there is no confusion and the reader can dive into the novel, chapter, or next scene without being ripped out of the fictive dream by lingering doubt or uncertainty.
I see lots of chapters start with dialogue that is not attributed to anyone with a dialogue tag. That’s not grounding us because we don’t know who is involved right off the bat. It’s also really important to know how much time has passed since we last saw the action of the story. Does the next chapter/scene pick up right away or does it pick up next Wednesday? That’s important to the reader’s sense of story and pacing. I see a lot of opening paragraphs or scenes that take place in some nebulous setting. Whether it’s the same setting as the previous chapter/scene or a new setting, we have to know it and get a sense of it. If we haven’t seen this place before, we need to get some more meaty description. Finally, we should pick up almost immediately what’s going on. If the last chapter/scene ended with the reader expecting something — like the bully saying, “I’ll see you in five minutes for a beat-down,” we’ll be expecting said beat-down the next time we see the character — then tell us right away if our expectations will be met or if we’re in a different scene altogether.
Here’s an example I wrote of an opening paragraph for a chapter that grounds the reader in a way that lets them have their questions answered:
Donny waited until the end of bio period before leaning over to her again. He could almost smell her strawberry shampoo when he got that close. Mr. Stokes was still babbling on about photosynthesis, but it didn’t matter. None of it would matter until Donny did the thing he’d promised himself he’d do.
This obviously continues the story pretty soon after we last left off. We know the characters, the time elapsed (a little bit less than a full class period, we’re guessing), the setting (still bio), a little reiteration of what must’ve happened in the last chapter/scene (the “again” is a clue), and some of what might happen in this chapter/scene (it involves something he’s been planning on doing and the girl, somehow).
What I want to reiterate is that you are the story’s curator. It’s up to you to make sure your reader transitions from chapter to chapter and scene to scene and knows exactly what’s going on. Once you confuse your reader, you lose them. Our prime real estate locations are also prime opportunities for grounding the reader and creating transitions…and prime possibilities for losing your reader, if you don’t ground them in the fictive dream well enough.