I’m Nina Milton, and this blog is all about getting out the laptop or the pen and pad to get writing. My blogposts are focused on advice and suggestions and news for writers, but also on a love reading with plenty of reviews, and a look at my pagan life, plus arts and culture. Get all my posts as they appear by becoming a subscriber. Click below right...

Sunday 24 September 2017

Clear Up Your Writing Info Dumps



The information dump is a phrase used colloquially by scriptwriters, but it’s also something that can be an issue for writers of novels and short stories.

It’s a type of exposition, commonly a gambit used when the writer wants the reader to know something that the characters already know, but also used to overcome other information issues. The trouble with the info dump is that it’s boring to read, to listen to, or to view.
Steering clear of dumps can be a bit of a balancing act. Writers h

This is a common a gambit used when the writer wants the reader to know something that the characters already know, or something that the reader doesn't need to know yet. It's also used to overcome other information issues. The trouble with the info dump is that it’s boring to read, to listen to, or to view and horribly difficult to clear up once in place. 

Of course you have to allow sufficient data for your story to be understood, but the reader does not want to drown it in particulars. Often, you’ll have heard authors say ‘readers are more intelligent than the writer supposes’. It’s all too easy to over-explain, repeat what you’re trying to say, or forget that both narrative and dialogue has already recapitulated a point. But the opposite can be as deadly— forgetting that readers and viewers are not acquainted with the information you’ve thought through in your head, but somehow forgot to make plain. The happy medium between these two problematic states of play is hard to achieve. That’s why writers end up in the info dump, and that’s why it’s hard to scramble back out.
The dumping problem can come about for several reasons…

You’re trying to shoe-horn in too much back-story
You need to explain complex issues
You want to provide sufficient detail about character traits, etc
You assume the reader, on opening the first page, will need to know lots of background to get going.

Often, we are too close to our plot and characters to determine how much is too much. First attempts at a story often begin with loads of explanation – an entire chunk of exposition on the first page or in the first chapter. This calcifies the opening and jars the narrative voice before you’ve got going.

In science fiction and speculative fiction, there is even a specialist jargon…expospeak…for intense info dumping. When you’ve created an entire world, or specific magical abilities for your characters, it is difficult to explain these without piling the material onto a dump. Sci-fi writers can find themselves climbing over dumps every few chapters…even every few pages.

In crime fiction,thrillers, and high-concept novels, the info dump can be a problem during the final denouement. You’ve carefully kept the identity of the killer a secret, which means you now need, not only to reveal who this is, but allow their explanation and motivation to become clear, too. As it all spills out, the action slows dangerously, just when the tempo must be reaching its top speed. At that stage of a thriller, the reader wants to be on the edge of their seat, and long-winded confessions put a break on action and movement.

Dialogue, in both prose and script, is not immune from becoming a dumping ground. Here, it’s often described as the ‘Well, as you already know’ syndrome. It appears as creaking, ‘stagey’ speeches…

‘How are you Mary?’ asked Sue. 
‘Well,’ said Mary. ‘As you already know, Sue, since the death of John, six months ago, I’ve been very depressed.’

If you’ve become lazy in your writing, you may be allowing info dumps to develop in your work. You might actually be so piling them so high, you can’t see over the top. If that’s a problem, you need to start cleaning up.

You might ask … ‘Am I using information dumps?’ 

In fact, they are quickly identifiable, by using this guideline…
inside one, nothing happens. The scene remains static while you dump.

Info dumping is an issue that is as old as the hills; in the Book I of The Iliad, Homer even manages to poke fun in its direction. Here Achilles, weeping, calls to his mother, Thetis, who sits beside him and strokes him with her hand, and says…Why then, child, do you lament? What sorrow has come to your heart now? Tell me, do not hide it in your mind, and we shall both know. To which Achilles replies (with a groan)…You know. What need for me to tell you all when you know it? (Penguin Classics edition, pg 12)
Homer’s method of overcoming the problem of the info dump might not work for everyone, so what other strategies can you take?

If you’ve got an issue with presenting back story that needs to be told, it may be a sign that you’re starting the story too late. Sometimes info dumps occur early in a manuscript because you are explaining stuff to yourself. You need to do this…but it’s best done in your writing notebooks.

There may be a need to prioritise information. Read through what you’ve written, and decide what information is essential immediately, as the story starts, and what can wait. Seed information throughout later sections of the story.

Determine what you can hold back without confusion. For instance, historic data, or detailed explanations of how things work, can be held off. Instead, give the reader/viewer enough to work on for now.
In fact, ‘Show, don’t Tell’, is an extremely important facet of clearing info dumps. For instance, show the way your fantasy world works to avoid long-winded explanations
Allow explanations and confessions to become interrupted. This works best when characters are speaking, but if you use your writer’s imagination, you can achieve this in narrative sections, as well
Instead of demonstrating character traits as exposition, allow them to develop through actions, body language, and dialogue.

 Avoid allowing characters to fall into ‘as you already know’ speeches. Try interior monologue: ‘Hi, how are you?’ Sue knew that Mary had been depressed since John’s death, but even so, she was hoping for more than a grim sigh in answer to her question. ‘No better, to be honest with you,’ said Mary.
Or allows the reader to draw their own conclusions :
‘How are you Mary?’
‘No better.’
‘What is it now…six months?’
‘Yes. But I still think John’s going to walk through the door any moment.’

Another approach is not to worry too much about imparting a mass of information in the first place. Readers like mystery, even if the story isn’t actually genre mystery. They like to be teased, so long as the mystery is solved somewhere along the line:
‘How are you Mary?’
‘No better.
‘What’s it now? Six months?’
Feels like six years sometimes and six hours at others.’

In my first novel, In the Moors, I had to tackle the issue of the ‘denouement info dump’. (Sorry: spoiler alert here!) I could see that in the first draft, I’d left far too much explanation to a confessional in the penultimate chapter, which weighed it down. Instead of my first-person protagonist being able to get on with trying to extricate herself from a life-threatening situation, she was having to listen to the killer’s diatribe explaining their psychological issues. I got around this by setting up a scene at the middle of the novel in which a character innocently discloses a lot of their past life…long before they are unveiled as the killer.

Check out how science fiction writers like Terry Pratchet and Douglas Adams manage long pages of info dump by making their reader laugh.

If you really need this information, try distracting the reader’s mind. In  his  proclaimed novel Golden Hill, Francis Spufford introduces his protagonist, Smith, who arrives in 18th century America with a huge money order he needs cashed. But Spufford manages to keep us entertained for a large proportion of the novel without revealing any more about Smith’s intentions.

Dumping of rubbish can be almost as much of an issue in creative writing as it is in the countryside. Keep your writing shovel to hand, so that, once you spot the dumps you can clear them up promptly – although this is an aspect of writing you can start to address once you've written a first draft. The unformed first draft is the time to let the writing flow and overlook such flaws. But once you have a piece of writing, start your search and make sure the dumps are cleared as you redraft for assignment, assessment or any other kind of submission.

Nina Milton is an OCA tutor and assessor. Her crime series The Shaman Mysteries is out now from Midnight Ink, and available from Amazon.

Saturday 9 September 2017

Get all Moody with Crime Writing


If people are saying they ‘couldn’t get into’ your writing, or that your characters felt a bit lifeless, then it might be that atmosphere or mood that is lacking in your work. Building mood and atmosphere grabs a reader and draws them in, making them feel as if they are ‘inside the story’, experiencing it physically. There is a subtle difference between these two terms:



Atmosphere  has come to mean the ambience, aura or feeling of a scene. It is the literary device which allows the action in writing to also have emotions which intrigue, excite, seduce, unsettle, disturb or beguile. Often atmosphere will add to the enjoyment of a read without the reader quite being able to work out why – they are 'internalising' it. An atmosphere can be established very quickly, but it can also change throughout, depending on the scene, plot or development of character.

Mood is subtly different from atmosphere but can further lift the atmosphere you’re creating. It is the ‘something in the air’ that helps ‘light and shade’ to be added to writing, working like a perfume, subconsciously sensed – the ‘je ne sais quoi of a good read, when a reader’s spine is tingled, or their heart wrenched, almost without them knowing it. Mood is usually dictated by the feelings of the protagonist or narrator.

There are some very simple ways of getting atmosphere and mood into your writing. The first is to use the senses. 

Smell – describe smells, both lovely and sickening, to add to atmosphere and ‘take’ the reader into the story
Sound – not just ‘grand’ sounds like an on-coming train or ‘obvious’ sounds like birdsong in countryside, but ‘lesser’ sounds; the crunch of gravel underfoot, the way a character constantly sniffs, the sudden, atmospheric howling of a dog in the twilight distance.
Taste. Don’t forget taste whenever something is placed in the narrator’s mouth. That might not take place often in your story, so also consider the other tastes that could heighten atmosphere, such as the taste of strong chemicals in the air, or the ‘taste’ of rain. Also use ‘interior’ tastes, such as the taste of the waking mouth or the taste of bile. And don’t forget the taste of a kiss!
Touch. This might seem the hardest to use well, but it's hugely important in adding mood and atmosphere. Surprisingly, touch takes place all the time. A breeze on the face, fabric on skin, the touch of another’s hand, the pressure of a wall against your back or cold flooring under your feet.

I believe there is a sixth sense…the sensations felt inside a person…their mood and perceptions. What does it feel like for the character to be in that setting or location? Is the dirty kitchen frustrating or irritating John, or does he ignore it completely? If so, why? When the two children enter the cave how do they percive it…why is it scaring or exciting to them?


The Pathetic Fallacy can entice the reader right into the mood of the narrator or other characters. Used sparingly by the skilled writer, the Pathetic Fallacy can be very effective. This term relates to the technique of attributing human characteristics, sensations, and emotions, to things that are inanimate, such as nature. The weather is used a lot within this technique. It can link extremely well with the symbolism you might want to pull into a story.  For instance, when a writer wants to build up an emotion in their character, they will place them in an appropriate setting – the angry character standing below a lowering sky with bruised clouds tearing above them, or the despairing character battling against a desperate, lashing storm. Rain is always falling at funerals – lightening slashes a tree as a gothic horror begins – fog descends as the protagonist becomes wandering and confused, as in King Lear, or lost in a long, fruitless quest, as in Bleak House. But this is a device that is notoriously cliched and often wrongly applied by novice writers, leading to something called 'empathic universe', which creates a melodramatic effect. You can tell if someone has overdone their melodrama, the mood overpowers the characters and even the story,  getting in the way of allowing the reader to empathize with the protagonist.  Be particularly warned if you are writing romantic fiction – remind yourself of the comic effect in Wallace and Gromit as Wallace’s bread was shown rinsing in his oven as his passion bloomed for Piella Backwell. If you use this technique to make people laugh, just be sure they are laughing with you and not at your writing. 


I haven't forgotten the sense of sight – describing how things appear is essential, even it if is over-used. New writers often believe 'describing' is something you really shouldn't do too much if you want to move your story on, and, indeed, today’s readers are not keen on long chunks of description…that died out with the crinoline! So the way to add atmospheric detail, especially in crime writing, is to slide it in surreptitiously as the action, interior monologue and dialogue continues to move the story on. Opening out the possiblilities by painting the atmosphere until it drips with meaning is quite the opposite of providing chunks of description. 
By looking closely at the most interesting parts of the whole – whether it’s an artifact, a character, a landscape or an interior – the atmosphere can be enhanced.

Even more amazingly, adding detail to scenes that have a high drama content actually increases the tension. Creating detailed description stretches story out while offering the writer a chance to use good language skills to create a vivid atmosphere. 

So this is the strange truth…the more detail you chose to include, the less boring the writing becomes…moving into close-up is absorbing and paints the imagery of the story. 
Here’s a moment from the first skeleton draft version of my crime novel In the Moors;

I was drawing closer to the bogs. Far away into the west, an ancient clump of willows sprouted out of the bog. I raised my collar against the wind. As I marched towards them, I saw the faint outline of police tape on thin metal poles. This was a scary place to be at night.
Take your time’ is one of my favourite phrases. I offer this advice my students, and so I guess I should take it myself. In that first draft, I was pummelling along, looking neither to the left nor to the right. My character, Sabbie Dare is walking into a dangerous situation. I can’t stop the action – it's going at full pelt. But there are ways of holding it up while maintaining the dramatic atmosphere. I must take as much time as I dare to allow Sabbie to describe what she observes and confront her own thoughts, by which she can build the mood of the scene…

When I lifted my chin away from my footsteps, I could see I was drawing closer to the long-abandoned areas, murky water held together with sedges and bulrushes. These bogs went on forever, impossible to tell one blackened hellhole from the next. I had no idea how to find the location I wanted.
I turned a full circle, skimming the horizon.  Far away into the west, an ancient clump of willows sprouted out of the bog. The trunks were glossy black against the reddening sunset. Each branch, thick as a Sumo wrestler’s leg, skimmed the water’s surface before turning upwards to the sky. The patterns they formed brought symbols to my mind – cages and gallows and rune signs. My skin goosed up along my arms. 
I pulled my jacket close about me and raised the collar against the wind. As I marched towards them, I saw the faint outline of police tape on thin metal poles, inadequately closing off the area.
The sun was slipping below the horizon like a thief in an alley. I had hoped I wouldn’t need my torch, but now it drilled a swirling vortex into the space ahead, illuminating the path with its paltry light. The slurry surface of the abandoned bogs gave me the clearest indication of where the path lay. I leaned forward as I walked to get the maximum light from the beam. The wind was whipping up, now darkness was falling. My cheeks and nose felt numb. When I looked up again to check my progress, the willows had gone.
I stared in horror. I wasn’t used to such dark magic. The grey horizon was hiding their silhouette. A gurgle of panic, like quickly swallowed porridge, rose in my gullet. The trees were somewhere ahead of me, but I hadn’t thought to take any sort of marking of where they lay – which of the many paths I needed.
My boot slid off a clump of slimy leaves. It filled with bog-water. I clutched at the air, struggling to keep my balance and the torch fell from my grasp. I watched in dismay as it sank beneath the oily sheen. My eyes stung with tears. Instantly the wind chilled them into ice. 
This was a dreadful place to be at night.

In this fuller version, 
 I slowed the action by writing into the gaps

which I left out in my rush to get the first words onto the page. I added hints of the sounds that are around her, and of the smell of the moors, with words such as murky, slimy and oily.  Touch sensations work exceedingly well to draw a reader into an image, for instance, how Sabbie is effected by the freezing conditions. I tried to be unpredictable, especially in my choice of and simile. I allowed the falling darkness to imprint its mood on her emotions.  I ‘seeded in’ description by using symbolic imagery which might add to the mood. Rather than abstract nouns such as ‘Sabbie was scared’  I used 'show'...A gurgle of panic... My eyes stung with tears... And I've tried to draw out the experience by making things harder for Sabbie, placing obstacles in her way and allowing the loss of her torch into the bog to feel like the very last straw.

Sometimes, finding the one perfect detail is all you need. Think about the ‘core’ of each scene. For example, your scene is an inner city waste land. Don’t try to describe all of it, your reader’s eyes will glaze over. Instead, focus your imagery on, for instance, one blighted buddleia, seemingly imbedded in nothing more than rocks and dust, where no butterfly has ever ventured. 

Your first draft is going to be rushed (and possibly messy) – you are trying to get down your thoughts. You might need to go back later to include atmosphere and mood. When you do, you’ll find these will also enhance your ‘writer’s voice’, and help you further understand what is behind your story.

Nina Milton’s crime series "The Shaman Mysteries" are published by Midnight Ink and available from Amazon.