During this series, I’ve begun to explain what I mean by a story’s narrative situation, the story a writer tells themselves and sometimes the reader about the existence of the story. The narrative situation is a model of communication: one person conveying the story to another in specific circumstances.
Sometimes the narrative situation is overt—revealed explicitly to the writer as in Bridget Jones’s Diary by Helen Fielding—but sometimes it is covert—not revealed to the reader as in Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. I’ve offered overt examples in other posts, and now I want to offer a story example in which the writer doesn’t explicitly or overtly share the narrative situation and a process to help uncover it. As writers, it’s useful to consider what kinds of options are available for narrative situations and when we should choose one option over another. That’s why we analyze the narrative situation in working stories.
The example I’m using here is Lost in the Moment and Found, the eighth book in the Wayward Children’s series by Seanan McGuire.
Here’s the premise (which is a person in a place with a problem): Antsy, a seven-year-old girl, (person) leaves home and enters a door that takes her to a shop in another world where lost things go (place). Antsy’s father has died, and she no longer has an adult in her life who believes her. Both at home and in the magical shop she must deal with a selfish adult who withholds the truth and is trying to rob her of her childhood (problem).
Here’s the book description to help you get a better sense of the story.
If you ever lost a sock, you’ll find it here.
If you ever wondered about a favorite toy from childhood... it’s probably sitting on a shelf in the back.
And the headphones that you swore this time you’d keep safe? You guessed it….
Antoinette has lost her father. Metaphorically. He’s not in the Shop, and she’ll never see him again. But when Antsy finds herself lost (literally, this time), she discovers that however many doors open for her, leaving the Shop for good might not be as simple as it sounds.
And stepping through those doors exacts a price.
Lost in the Moment and Found tells us that childhood and innocence, once lost, can never be found.
Here’s a representative excerpt from the text to help you get a feel for the narrative fabric of the story.
Still crying, Antsy slipped out of bed and—after checking her door to be sure it was all the way closed—stripped out of her nightgown, putting on the clothes she’d worn the day before that were still at the top of the laundry basket. She was seven years old, almost eight, and she knew she should get something clean, but also knew her dresser drawers would scrape if she opened them, and it wasn’t like she’d spilled anything on herself at dinner.
Her backpack was partially under the bed. She pulled it out and froze. What did you put into a bag for running away? Her piggy bank was half-full, and she knew she’d need money, but it also jingled and jangled, and even padding it with the rest of her laundry wouldn’t stop the coins from bouncing around. She had her twenty dollars of birthday money still on top of the dresser, and that could go in the bag.
Her favorite doll, her stuffed monkey, they both went into the bag, and she stepped into her shoes before slinging the bag over her shoulder and carefully, carefully easing her bedroom door open and peeking into the hall. There was no sign of Tyler. She could hear the sound of the television drifting up from the downstairs living room.
With this information, how would you attempt to identify the narrative situation? We ask questions to investigate the text.
Who could the narrator be? Who might want to tell this story to help someone? A well-crafted and multidimensional story doesn’t exist only to entertain readers but is a means of transmitting wisdom. So in our model of communication, we assume the one who communicates the story is trying to help someone else.
Who might they want to share the story with?
What clues are there in the tone of the narrative about who the narrator and narratee are?
What kinds of details are emphasized in the text?
What kinds of problems could reading this story help someone solve?
In what context and circumstances might the narrator share this story?
What kind of response or action would they hope to inspire?
What form might the narration take? Would it be written, spoken, something else?
What relationship does the helper want to establish with the listener (trusted guide, fellow traveler, wise observer, etc.)?
What emotional distance does the helper maintain from the events (close identification, careful objectivity, etc.)?
What aspects of the situation might the listener be resistant to hearing about?
What cultural or social context might affect how the story is received?
In the next post, I’ll answer these questions and offer some specific to this story for going even further with the narrative situation.
This post is part of a 75-day writing challenge and experiment. From September 9 through November 22, I'll be posting daily thoughts on writing, storytelling, and creativity based on recent readings or reflections. While my intention was to keep them very short—250 to 400 words—I've found that this range doesn't give me enough space to cover these topics adequately. I aim to keep them brief enough to be read quickly, but they will often be longer than 400 words.
At the end of the challenge, I will organize and revise the material with intention. For now, the object is to explore and share.