Didactic. The first time I heard that word, I had to run to my dictionary. I don't know of one novelist who hasn't been accused of this at one point in their career. But what exactly is this? It is to preach, to lecture, or to moralize in a way that the narrator's voice intrudes onto a character. We've all read books like this. We're humming along, really getting into a novel when, BANG! It's as if the character becomes someone else. The attitude may stay the same, but the tone changes.
You know you're ripe for being didactic if:
You use statistics.
When having a heart-to-heart talk, how many of us use statistics? Nine out of ten women have some form of PMS. "So what! I don't care about other women, I want to know about me!" your character screams, and rightly so. People don't respond to statistics. They're impersonal and in a story setting they can be deadly. Save them for the journalists. You forget whose eyes you're looking through. Look at your characters. Do any use unrealistic words? Teenagers may ramble, but they rarely have the eloquence to voice an argument for or against something. They tend to leave sentences hanging or are very blunt and to the point. A twentieth century heroine will voice her concerns in a different manner than her eighteenth century counterpart. If you find your character nagging, being long-winded or using symbolism, then you have a speech and not dialogue.
Sparse dialogue.
Does the character stay within her head too much, rolling the problem over and over, asking herself questions and answering them? I call this the talking head problem. It's as if a head is floating in the air, disconnected from its body and reality. Your character is preaching to the reader without ever saying a word. This is worse than having them vocalize it.
There is no movement.
Frankly, movement is a basic necessity to all stories. Have you heard from an editor that she doesn't get a feeling of time and place? That means you're either internalizing the character or your dialogue has taken over. Each lends itself to being didactic. Use your senses to ground your characters. Have them move. Maybe one of your characters is excitable—don't say she's excitable, show it. Even when a character is sitting, they should never just sit. Whatever they do, it should open up the story, show emotions you would normally tell. Movement can cut short the most intense of sermons because many times, actions speak louder than words.
First and foremost, you are a storyteller. That should be your main purpose; to tell a good story. That doesn't mean you have to leave your conscience in the closet. You can tackle an issue that means a lot to you, be it abortion, religion, or saving the Rio Grande silvery minnow, but be wary your moralizing doesn't subvert your skill as a storyteller. Interweave your passion little by little, don't manipulate your character into a lecture.
It'll only sound forced and break the reader's sense of reality. Believe me, your characters are just as passionate about the subject as you are, their creator. Take your time and let them speak for you. You'll be surprised at how much they care.
Sherri Buerkle has been married to Bob for 16 years and has five daughters. She has taught basic fiction writing at CWG of Universal City (a writers group) and will have her latest article published this October by Decision Magazine. Presently, she has a long historical romance making the rounds and is halfway through a long contemporary romance.
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