John Hornor Jacobs, author of Southern Gods, Incorruptibles, and Infernal Machines recently met up with fantasy author Sanford Allen, who related a meeting with David Mitchell, author of Cloud Atlas and the World Fantasy Award-winning The Bone Clocks. Apparently, Mitchell spent a bit of time buying Allen drinks and asking for stories of Allen’s time as a touring musician.
But this was not just a pleasant evening out for two writers talking shop—this was also an opportunity for Mitchell to share the art of “IWATH,” or, to spell it out, “I WAS THERE.”
Jacobs shared the anecdote on Twitter, explaining the concept of IWATH:
Normally, I don’t go in for concrete writing advice tips – everyone has to figure out their process, and what’s right for them – but in this case, Sanford revealed Mitchell’s very specific trick to writing. He called it IWATH MOMENTS.
— John Hornor (@johnhornor) August 16, 2018
IWATH stands for I WAS THERE. And in his books, Mitchell tries to include three IWATH moments per scene. Details that no one could know unless they were actually there and experienced something.
— John Hornor (@johnhornor) August 16, 2018
Since hearing that, I’ve found myself evaluating each scene of my current WIP to see if I’ve included enough IWATH moments. Apparently, I do it pretty naturally, but I’m glad I’m doing it consciously now.
— John Hornor (@johnhornor) August 16, 2018
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Cloud Atlas
Thinking back on Mitchell’s books, I don’t remember reading them. I don’t even think of the Wachowskis’ admirable attempt at adapting Cloud Atlas. Instead I can see Holly Sykes and Robert Frobisher and Zachry and the Chetwynds, with far more clarity than I can see most of the characters I’ve read, and I think this thread explains why. By dotting his chapters with tiny details and moments about things like running a pub or writing musical notation that only long-practiced experts would notice, he shores up the reality of his world and characters in such small increments that I didn’t even realize how much I was absorbing until the words on the page had created a new reality around me.
I am definitely using this tip from now on—what are your IWATH moments in your own writing?
Poul Anderson said it more clearly. He suggested that each scene should have at least three of the five senses used. It puts the reader there. As someone who used to write romance, I’d suggest that all five senses should be used in scenes that are far more internal than external. For example, love/sex scenes.
I agree, it’s great advice, put concisely, for writers. It’s like an unpacking of the word “worldbuilding” (what is worldbuilding? More importantly, what is bad worldbuilding? haha)
I have, however, seen this backfire when too many details are shoehorned in or senses seem at odds attention-wise. For example: a protagonist that notes the acrid smell at odds with the sweet hay smells in a barn, but fails to have also noticed the overturned lamp that appears to have burnt half the structure down minutes later..
To me, IWATH means asking the questions a reasonable person would ask during a scene, and this ensures it is believable and solid enough to identify with and draw one into it. Sometimes this is sensory details, but it can also be clear demonstration of logic through dialogue or action…
As I mentioned in the Watchmen announcement thread, it’s possible to over-write using this technique. Even Mitchell sometimes has an overdensity of detail that can become a slog. The bar scenes in Slade House come to mind.
But the biggest culprit that comes to mind is Alan Moore’s Jerusalem. You get so much IWATH in the first few pages that the novel sinks. It may have worked in script for an artist to put in graphical details, but as pure text it is overwritten.
@2 and 3 It depends on what audience you are writing for. If the audience is hard science fiction, they don’t want details unless the writer is going orgasmic over hard science stuff. High fantasy audiences want details and worldbuilding small touches. Action/adventure is just the facts and don’t slow down the action. That’s why it’s such a good idea to read widely in what you intend to write so you can see what the successful writers are doing that the audience likes.
“Repent, Harlequin! said the Ticktockman” is a great example of this rule. :)
Here’s a tip Delany attributed to Sturgeon: Imagine the scene as fully as you can, then only write the details the character would have noticed.
Ah, Ms. Byerly you are quite correct… audience is everything and reading wide is extremely important, especially for determining (by your own, personal and non-subjective standards) what works and what doesn’t.
…And of course Ms Lebovitz, I wholeheartedly agree. I suppose in my example, it could have been a blind stableperson!
To combine the two lessons in a quick and haphazard excercise: A reader of pulp romance on a vacation might not be as interested in the color and aroma of pastries on the baker’s bench (GRR Martin, Brian Jaques) as the feeling of strength imparted by hands that worked a thousand loaves :)
Actually, the Poul Anderson approach stopped working well for me once I was told about it– it seemed too mechanical.
More generally, how much sensory description good fiction has varies quite a lot– Jane Austen had very little, and Heinlein had occasional visual set-pieces, but usually there wasn’t much.
@7 You’re right, but there is no such thing as pulp romance. If pulp is meant to imply bad writing, then you’re really wrong. I read many popular genres, have taught many genres, and wrote a number of genres. Traditionally published romance has the highest bar as to the quality of the writing because of the competition and the necessity of getting the words right because of the sensuality (senses, not necessarily sex) the reader wants.
@8 Much of writing, particularly rewriting, is mechanical. That’s why writing is called a craft, and it has to be learned.
The smartest advice I ever heard from an editor is this: If you are reading to understand what readers and publishers want, always pick authors who are writing now and who haven’t been writing forever. Reader tastes change, and narrative styles change drastically.
Here’s a nice IWATH line from Patrick O’Brian:
It’s Dr Maturin, who’s never been so high up the mast, who is noticing what the sailors look like from far above, in the spirit of Delany and Sturgeons’s advice. I like the strides.
@10. del: There is a richness of detail in O’Brian rarely matched in other writers. The irony is that he wasn’t a sailor and rarely went out to sea. He has a readership, and fans who re-act some of the meal scenes on ships (with of without lesser weevils), but he deserves to be more widely read.
Patrick O’Brian was one of the finest prose stylists writing in the English language. His Aubrey – Maturin series is among my personal favorites, and I have read through the entire series several times. There is much in O’Brian’s descriptive prose that warrants attention from other writers of fiction, irrespective of genre.
sunspear @11, I keep thinking I’ve caught O’Brian out on a point of sailing jargon; he writes “those horses want mousing” and I’m like “oh, come ON!” But it turns out horses are a thing and mouse is something you might do to them. Similarly, “catharpins” and “scandalize” turned out real when I went checking.
He actually puts a lampshade on this in The Golden Ocean, when he has midshipmen spoof each other with fake jargon.
Vinge has a great scene in Fire Upon the Deep, where a non-soldier mind-melds with a soldier, and when he comes back to consciousness, Vinge’s tight third description of the battlefield is suddenly much more informed than it was before. The soldier knows what he’s looking at, and his IWATH is not the same as the civilian’s IWATH.
The thing I like about the strides of course, is that anyone could have written “the people below looked like ants.”