Warning: Strap yourself down.  This is a long blog.  My bad.

I’m totally up for another round of blogging that isn’t really blogging, but more like a writing lesson … again.  I guess the question is, are you?

So, whada we talk about?  Oh yeah.  I gotta come up with that.  Let me think … got it.

Verisimilitude.  (ver-ə-sə-ˈmi-lə-̩tüd)

Don’t you just love ten dollar words?  This one pertains to writing.  Well, okay, it can pertain to a few other things (such as art and acting), but we’re writers so work with me here.

Let’s cut this big, lip-tripping word down into easy-to-digest pieces.  This six syllable word basically means semblance of reality.  So what’s the big deal about achieving verisimilitude? you may ask.  (gasp)  I can’t believe you just asked that.

It is a huge deal!  (No joke.)  Real life is a pooh-fest of boring nothing most of the time.  If we, as writers, wrote things as they really are, our readers would drop into a coma of “who cares” quicker than a fly finds a carcass.  (Gross imagery, but you get what I mean.)  Yet, verisimilitude is a process of creating a reality that will make the reader believe whatever is happening in the story might, could actually, really happen.

Sounds sort of like sleight of hand, you say?  It is.  We need to bring reality to the page without over-burdening the reader.  What does that mean?  Pick your details carefully.  Don’t overdo them.  Make your dialogue sound believable.  Pay attention to action-reaction.  Motivate, motivate, motivate.

My biggest pet peeve deals with action/reaction.  It’s when authors have a character get beat up and then the guy goes for a mile run with no problem after that.  Really?  Seriously?  I’ll slack the book against the wall when that happens.  If you insist on your character having physical limitations, do it right.

Example time.  (yay! for examples)

I love movies.  They are a visual medium that instantly shows a lesson, and they’re perfect to showcase verisimilitude.  Have you seen the latest Die Hard movie Live Free or Die Hard?

Here’s a quick summary.  John McClane nearly gets blown up.  He gets into multiple car crashes.  Brings down a helicopter after he throws himself from a speeding car.  Fights a ninja chick and wins.  Survives being shot via a fighter jet (my least favorite and believable part of the whole movie, but no movie is perfect).  And shoots himself through the shoulder to kill the bad guy standing behind him.  And that’s not even half of what happens to the poor man.

Pretty wild, huh?  So how’d they make me believe all that is possible?

Basically, John McClane gets his butt kicked, and it shows.  His character is a rough and tough inner-city cop.  The old “gets a lickin’ and still keeps tickin’” kind of guy.  The movie works because when he escapes all these crazy stunts, he looks like he just escaped a harrowing stunt.  He’s beat up.  He limps.  He winces.  He’s still walking and even he looks surprised that he’s able to function.  He’s rolling on adrenalin, which at first is based on duty and self preservation, and then it morphs into something even stronger, his love for his daughter.  They nailed this man’s motivation.  In the end, I believe nothing is going to stop him until a bullet finds his brain and even then I’m not sure that’ll do it.

So, to make your characters believable, you’ve got to show the “ouch” factor, and realize that John McClane’s stunts work in Live Free or Die Hard because he doesn’t stop to rest.  Not once.  The director knows, and we know, if John McClane allows himself to rest, he won’t get back up.  That’s a basic physics principle.  A body in motion is hard to slow down, but once it does, it’s difficult to get it back into motion.  So the character pushes through the pain.  He lets his adrenalin work for him.

Let’s take another look at the verisimilitude angle.  The old, “But that would never happen in real life!” outcry.  Look at the T.V. CSI franchise.

Gil Grissom (my favorite) has us all believe he can and will find the one clue that will seal his case.  And he’ll do it in less than 24 hours.  Yay for Grissom! 

Reality check. In the real world, finding and evaluating clues, not to mention DNA, is a long, long process.   But we’re dealing in fiction, ya’ll.  We’re all big kids.  We know fiction isn’t real.  If it were, it’d be catalogued under nonfiction.  The reality of being a fiction writer is that we can’t construct our stories to reflect the real world.  We’d lose readers right and left because most of the real stuff is boring.  We have to condense time, manipulate procedures, have people say things they would only think, until we’ve got a tensely filled plot that moves forward at the perfect pace that hopefully feels as if it could really happen. 

Let’s take this aspect down to the most boring activity I can imagine.  An average business meeting.

Ugh!  I know.  We’ve all either been to or have heard about business meetings.  Bunch of people sit around a table and hash out details.  They go over the same material until everyone wants to slit their wrists or commit murder.  Not much fun usually.  I think it’s safe to say the bulk of business meetings are filler information, things most everyone knows, but you’ve got to go over every little detail to make sure everyone’s up to speed.

So, as writers, we’ve got to take what happens in an hour business meeting and condense it into the most interesting parts.  We’ve got to manipulate the information so that the reader is entertained by the event and intrigued to know what comes next.

Let’s create a scene 

Since this is the holiday season, we’ll make our business a toy manufacturer.  Our main character will be Jack. 

So cute in his pink tie.  He’s young and hungry to progress up the business ladder.  He’s got vision and the brains to see it carried out.  Yet, he’s working for a man who wants results, but who’s not especially concerned with details.

OUR SCENE

Sweat prickled down Jack Finley’s temples.  Second week on the job and he drew the short straw.  Nobody liked bad news.  Especially his boss.  In fact, Jack would rather be target practice for a knife thrower than approach his boss.  He sighed.  Jerked his tie straight.  No avoiding the inevitable.

After a cursory knock, Jack entered his boss’s lair.  “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Finley,” his boss said without looking up from his paperwork.  “Have a seat.  Are the numbers in?”

No “How’s it going, son,” or “Are you enjoying your work?” platitudes.  The old man was all business.  At least he remembered Jack’s name.

“Yes, sir.”  Claiming the chair in front of the desk, Jack held out his report.  “The projected success of Tiny Tina –”

“Damn it!”  Jack’s boss flipped through a few papers, not paying Jack any attention.  Was it Jack’s youth?  Inexperience?  Both?

Undaunted, he cleared his throat and tried again.  “The projected success of Tiny Tina has not been realized in sales.”

His boss’s gaze snapped to Jack.  The full brunt of those heavy brows lowered over eyes brimming with displeasure.  This was why no one wanted to deliver the news.  The old man’s stare could make a guy sweat blood.

Jack eased the graph in front of his boss and pointed to a sudden plunge in sales projections.  “S-sales are down fifteen percent.  We’ve scaled back production, though there may be other factors that are temporarily adding to this slow down.  In regards to that, we’re gathering more information, which should be available on the sixteenth.  I’m not hopeful.  There’s a high probability future sales will continue to fall.”

“Why is that?”

Here we go.  Jack took a deep breath and plunged ahead.  “The American Pediatrics Association has deemed Tiny Tina to encourage enuresis.”

“In your …what?”

“Enuresis.  Bed-wetting, sir.  The American Pediatrics Association has further sent out a news bulletin to warn parents of this … irregularity.”

An alarming shade of red snaked its way into his boss’s cheeks.  “Are you telling me those little pissants at APA are pissing on my doll?”

“Um … yes, sir.  I mean , our research didn’t encompass the possibility of bed-wetting, but it appears the American Pediatrics Association may have a point.”

A meaty fist slammed against the table.  “It’s a doll, for crying out loud!  Not a conspiracy to encourage a generation of bed wetters.  My granddaughter loves that doll.”

“Does she …”  Jack let his curiosity go.  No use in tweaking the bull’s ear if a guy wanted to get out alive and keep his job … and he needed this job.  School loans, rent and a desire to create a solid platform for his own ideas had him desperate.  One false move and his whole life would unravel.

The older man’s jaw flexed as he gnashed his teeth.  A finger suddenly stabbed at Jack’s personal bubble, coming awfully close to his chest.  “Fix this, Finley.  Go over their accusations.  Nail an apology.  Demand a retraction.  Today.”

END SCENE

Okay, so how did we use verisimilitude? 

First, we got rid of the group meeting.  I’d keep the group dynamic only if it’s absolutely necessary to our plot.  Since it isn’t, out it went because juggling a bunch of people can create confusion for the reader.  From there, we laid the ground work that Jack is nervous about handing in his report.  Why?  Jack’s young and brand new to the company, yet he already knows when things don’t go according to plan, his boss gets angry.  Jack’s nerves show in his speech pattern.  He hedges slightly, yet his youthful confidence gains strength as their meeting progresses.  He actually tells his boss what he doesn’t want to hear, but needs to know.  He uses correct terms while his boss is earthier.  Jack needs this job; he’s motivated and has been given a directive in how to keep his job. 

This exercise in verisimilitude works because we carefully picked our details to highlight character, we used believable dialogue, and motivated the characters.  Whether or not it’s interesting and begs the reader to read further is subjective.  As writers we have no control over our reader’s response.  All we can do is study our craft and write the best story we can. 

Well, I’ve done it again.  Sorry for the ridiculously long post.  The concept isn’t an easy one to explain.  Verisimilitude is found in every aspect of creating story, from conception to execution.  It’s tightly woven throughout the whole process.  To try and pull it out and shine a light on it is difficult at best.  The best way to see it done is to go through your favorite book and pick apart the first chapter and see how the author made you believe what’s going on is real.  But then, if it’s done well, you might not be able to put your finger on it. 

Oh gosh!  I’ve got to shut up now!  Sorry.

If you made it this far, I suspect you’ve had a really boring day and you’ll read anything to stimulate brain activity.  Hopefully, this wasn’t a waste of time, and I was able to get you that much closer to understanding a ten dollar word that is really important to our writing success.

So tell me, am I full of it or is verisimilitude as important as I think it is?  What are your pet peeves that’ll have you slacking a book against the wall?