Is Backstory Killing Your Book’s Plot? Here’s How to Fix It

by | Nov 20, 2015 | Craft | 9 comments

The following is an excerpt from 5 Editors Tackle the 12 Fatal Flaws of Fiction Writing, available now.

So many new writers start their books with pages — even chapters — of backstory.

They want to tell the reader all about the creation of their fantasy world. Or they want to make sure readers understand every nuance of Mexican politics in 1956 because it will be critical to the plot on page 103. Or they want to make sure the reader understands every feature of time travel or cloning in the year 2133.

Then their writing coaches or editors suggest that instead of including all this material in the opening chapters of their book, they should just reveal the backstory through dialogue.

Aha, the author thinks. Dialogue — of course! But instead of jettisoning their precious descriptions and explanations, they essentially put quotation marks around the same ponderous material.

Problem solved, right? Wrong.

Your backstory can slow down the plot

None of your characters should talk like the narrator. And readers still don’t want a backstory dump, even in dialogue. Your attempt to stuff backstory into dialogue results in long, tedious monologues instead of more believable two-way conversation.

Let’s take a look at a before-and-after example passage:

Before:

Debby started panicking. “You know, John, that we can’t send people back in time without the right amount of energy, and even though we’ve done an excellent job in extracting energy from dark matter, as our last two experiments attest, I fear that there isn’t enough to get Colleen into the past and out of danger. Just look at the flux capacitor levels — the microcosm indicator is off as well, and it needs to be at 90 percent for a guaranteed trip. The flux capacitor is crucial for making a time jump, and needs to be at about 92 percent efficiency to work well. Also you need to contact Clare and Silas and make sure they can divert another 38 gigawatts of energy to the main frame so in one hundred hours she can make her jump back to the present. The main frame can handle up to 50 gigawatts, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Whew, did you find that tedious to read? It was pretty tedious to write, too.

To make matters worse, these types of monologues often take place in the middle of important action. Readers aren’t going to believe a character will stop and give a lecture when bullets are flying or buildings are blowing up around her. Backstory, even in “active” dialogue, stops the present action.

After:

Debby frowned at the bank of blinking lights. “We don’t have enough energy here for Colleen to make the jump.”

“Is there anything we can do?” John asked.

An alarm sounded, and Debby hit the panel to the left to silence it. “Don’t know.” She glanced at the flux capacitor level and gritted her teeth. It was nowhere near the 90 percent she needed. “I think you need to contact Clare and Silas. Maybe they can divert more energy.”

“Sure, but how much?” John asked.

Debby thought for a moment. “I need another 89 gigawatts of energy.”

“All right,” John said, jumping up out of his chair. “I’ll contact them — if I can find them.

In this example, we assume that John and Debby already know a great deal of the backstory and pertinent information because they are in the story. Even if I wanted to make sure that the reader (as well as John) was clear about time travel, a cumbersome description only slows the action and raises more questions than it answers.

Readers don’t really need to know it all

Have faith in your characters, and have even more faith in your readers. Allow the reader to enjoy the journey. It can be more fun for them to discover the world and plot along with the heroine.

Sometimes dense description given through dialogue sums everything up, causing the reader to wonder why they should bother to read on.

Use a limited amount of shorthand that your readers will understand to convey what’s going on. Use the characters to convey their expertise in their own proprietary language, which can add depth to a character and give a better sense of what’s going on.

Become the expert in your field of study, and of the world you are developing. But don’t build a time machine piece by piece through your dialogue.

Backstory keys to success

Next time you’re weaving backstory into your project, remember:

  • Jettison the dense backstory paragraphs at the beginning of your novel’s scenes.
  • Explain in common, character-driven language some finer points of the plot via dialogue.
  • Trust your reader to pick up on gestures, expressions, and atmosphere as substitutes for direct (and long) explanations.
  • Don’t explain everything. Only include bits that are essential and interesting, and that advance the plot.
  • Don’t build a time machine all in one monologue.
  • No one wants a truckload of information dumped at the start of a story. Readers want to be swept away, transported — not buried under a ton of rock.

Readers don’t spend as much time as they used to “getting into” a novel or story. It’s your job to put the reader into the action and intimacy with your characters as quickly as possible. The rest will follow.

How have you introduced backstory in your own writing?