Jane Austen Writing Lessons

Jane Austen Writing Lessons. With an image of the original cover page of Pride and Prejudice; a color image of Jane Austen; an image of tea and pastries with an open book, and an early cover of Sense and Sensiblity.

One of the best ways to learn to write well is to learn from the examples of great writers. Jane Austen Writing Lessons is a series of blog posts about creative writing principles from plot structure to character development to dialogue. This blog was selected by “The Write Life” as one of the 100 Best Websites for Writers in 2021.

New Posts 2x a Month

New Jane Austen Writing Lessons will be posted 2 times a month. Sign up for the newsletter to get a notification in your inbox anytime there’s a new lesson. Links to the previous lessons can be found below.

Examples from Jane Austen

Each lesson looks to Jane Austen’s novels and her other works for examples of excellent writing. Quotes from her six published novels and an analysis of her craft–and how we can apply it to our own writing–is included in each lesson.

Writing Exercises

Writing Exercises - Jane Austen Writing Lessons

Each lesson includes 2-3 writing exercises that will help you practice the creative writing principle and apply it to your own writing.

Most Recent Jane Austen Writing Lessons

Jane Austen Writing Lessons #68: Establishing Relationships and Character Connections in Fiction
Jane Austen Writing Lessons 67. Creating an Emotional Map: Making Interconnected Emotions
Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #66: Evoking Emotions through Objective Correlative (External Objects)
Mary Bennet and Mr. Collins. Why didn't they marry? Would they have made a good match?
Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #65: Different Character Approaches to Dealing with and Expressing Emotions
Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #64: The Size or Degree of Character Emotions
Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #63: Four More Internal Emotion Techniques
Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #62: Conveying Emotion Through Character Thoughts and Free Indirect Speech
Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #61: How to Convey Emotion. Planting Clues to What Characters Feel

Jane Austen Writing Lessons by Category

Overarching Principles - Jane Austen Writing Lessons

#1: Make Your Character Want Something
#2: Combine Multiple Elements to Create an Engaging Premise
#3: Use an Inciting Incident to Set the Plot in Motion
#4: Create an External Journey for your Character
#5: Make Things Hard for Your Character
#6: Use a Character Arc to Make Your Character Change and Grow
#7: Create Multiple Relationship Arcs to Show Your Character’s Journey in Relation to Those Around Them
#8: Use Setting to Influence Plot and Character
#9: Use Dialogue to Create Dynamic Interactions Between Characters
#10: Use the Reader-Writer Contract to Create a Satisfying Resolution for Your Readers

Recognition for Jane Austen Writing Lessons

Jane Austen Writing Lessons: one of the

Jane Austen Writing Lessons was selected by The Write Life as one of the “100 Best Websites for Writers in 2021.” They wrote:

“[Jane Austen Writing Lessons] is filled with blog posts about creative writing that use Jane Austen’s novels and other related stories to share what good writing looks and sounds like. Whether you’re interested in plot structure or character development to dialogue, each Jane Austen writing lesson focuses on one principle of writing at a time.”

About the Author

In addition to writing Jane Austen Writing Lessons, Katherine Cowley is the author of the novels The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet, The True Confessions of a London Spy, and The Lady’s Guide to Death and Deception. She teaches writing classes at Western Michigan University.

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Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #39: Create a Progression of Knowledge Discovery

#39: Create a Progression of Knowledge Discovery

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Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #39: Create a Progression of Knowledge Discovery

In lesson 37, we talked giving your characters things to discover, and how this compels both the characters and the reader forward in the story. In lesson 38, we discussed five ways to create these “information gaps”—gaps between what we know and what we want to know.

Yet it’s not enough to simply have a number of information gaps and discoveries in a story: unless you’re using an episodic structure, larger discoveries should often be connected to each other and build on each other.

But how do you create this progression of knowledge discovery?

Let’s consider how Jane Austen does it, first in the novel Northanger Abbey, and then in Pride and Prejudice.

Murder? Imprisonment? Or Tragic Death?

The first time that Catherine Morland hears of Mrs. Tilney, Mrs. Allen is attempting to establish the basic facts of Mrs. Tilney’s existence (or lack of existence):

“And are Mr. and Mrs. Tilney in Bath?” [Catherine asked Mrs. Allen.]

“Yes, I fancy they are, but I am not quite certain. Upon recollection, however, I have a notion they are both dead; at least the mother is; yes, I am sure Mrs. Tilney is dead, because Mrs. Hughes told me there was a very beautiful set of pearls that Mr. Drummond gave his daughter on her wedding-day and that Miss Tilney has got now, for they were put by for her when her mother died.”

Later, when Catherine is visiting the Tilney estate, Northanger Abbey, she learns more of the facts from her friend, Miss Eleanor Tilney, and asks questions which might help her define these facts (label them in ways to help her understand them) and determine what these facts indicate or mean about Mrs. Tilney’s type of death (was it truly a sudden death? Or was wrongful behavior involved?)

Catherine had never heard Mrs. Tilney mentioned in the family before, and the interest excited by this tender remembrance showed itself directly in her altered countenance, and in the attentive pause with which she waited for something more.

“I used to walk here so often with her!” added Eleanor; “though I never loved it then, as I have loved it since. At that time indeed I used to wonder at her choice. But her memory endears it now.”

“And ought it not,” reflected Catherine, “to endear it to her husband? Yet the general would not enter it.” Miss Tilney continuing silent, she ventured to say, “Her death must have been a great affliction!”

….“Was she a very charming woman? Was she handsome? Was there any picture of her in the abbey? And why had she been so partial to that grove? Was it from dejection of spirits?”—were questions now eagerly poured forth; the first three received a ready affirmative, the two others were passed by; and Catherine’s interest in the deceased Mrs. Tilney augmented with every question, whether answered or not. Of her unhappiness in marriage, she felt persuaded. The general certainly had been an unkind husband. He did not love her walk: could he therefore have loved her? And besides, handsome as he was, there was a something in the turn of his features which spoke his not having behaved well to her.

“Her picture, I suppose,” blushing at the consummate art of her own question, “hangs in your father’s room?”

No; it was intended for the drawing-room; but my father was dissatisfied with the painting, and for some time it had no place. Soon after her death I obtained it for my own, and hung it in my bed-chamber—where I shall be happy to show it you; it is very like.” Here was another proof. A portrait—very like—of a departed wife, not valued by the husband! He must have been dreadfully cruel to her!

Catherine attempted no longer to hide from herself the nature of the feelings which, in spite of all his attentions, he had previously excited; and what had been terror and dislike before, was now absolute aversion. Yes, aversion! His cruelty to such a charming woman made him odious to her. She had often read of such characters, characters which Mr. Allen had been used to call unnatural and overdrawn; but here was proof positive of the contrary.

Catherine continues to gather knowledge, such as the facts that neither of the Tilney children were there when Mrs. Tilney died, and that Mrs. Tilney’s room are off-limits. From these discoveries, Catherine determines a course of action (or policy) to follow: to go, when alone, and search Mrs. Tilney’s rooms. When she does so, she discovers more facts (the lack of evidence of ill-treatment) and new definitions and understandings of the quality or nature of Mrs. Tilney’s death from her son, Henry Tilney. Ultimately, she realizes that all of her suspicions around Mrs. Tilney’s death were due to an overactive imagination.

These discoveries build on each other and create a progression across multiple chapters, a progression which interferes with her romantic interest in Henry Tilney, and which teaches Catherine more about herself and her relationship with others.

Northanger Abbey is not limited to this single progression of discoveries; in the lesson on character arcs, I discussed the progression (with accompanying setbacks) of Catherine coming to understand John Thorpe’s character. Often a novel will have a number of discovery progressions, sometimes at different points in time, and sometimes layered concurrently.

A Framework for Understanding These Progressions: Stasis Theory

Aristotle, Hermagoras, Quintilian, Cicero, and others developed a theory that we now call stasis theory.

Stasis theory is a way to understand the different spaces where argument can occur: in other words, the different spaces where people can disagree about knowledge. This can be a useful theory if you’re writing an argument between two characters, but it also can help us understand the different categories of information gaps that can occur.

In stasis theory, there are four main places where arguments occur:

  • Fact

  • Definition

  • Quality

  • Procedure

As I define each of these different stases, we’ll consider a progression of discovery from Pride and Prejudice.

Fact

Often, the characters must determine the facts. What happened? What caused something? What actually occurred?

While facts seem non-debatable, it’s actually very common to have extensive debates on the facts, and it can take much effort to acquire them (and to get people to agree upon them).

A Fact Information Gap in Pride and Prejudice

  • What happened between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham? What caused their cold greeting?

Definition

Once you have facts, you must categorize and define them. Did what happen cause a problem or a conflict? If so, what type of problem is it? How are the facts related and what connects them?

A Definition Information Gap in Pride and Prejudice

  • As Elizabeth learns more about Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham’s interconnected pasts, she attempts to find a satisfactory definition to explain them. What she initially discovers leads her to define what happened as a disregard of the elder Mr. Darcy’s wishes and a removal of Mr. Wickham’s intended inheritance.

Quality

Following discoveries related to definition, judgments about quality are often made. What is the nature of what happened? Is it good or bad? Can we pass a judgment on a character, event, or situation?

A Quality Information Gap in Pride and Prejudice

  • Elizabeth decides what she has discovered indicates a severe mistreatment of Mr. Wickham by Mr. Darcy. She has made a judgment on quality.
  • Then, after she rejects Mr. Darcy’s proposal, he informs her of additional facts which lead her to change her definitions of the situation and her judgments on quality (Mr. Withrow squandered his inheritance and attempted to elope with the young Miss Darcy—clearly, the blame and fault lies with him).

Procedure

Once quality has been determined comes the question of procedure: what should be done? What is the best way to deal with this information gap or problem? Will the chosen procedure be effective?

A Procedure Information Gap in Pride and Prejudice

  • Prior to the start of the novel, Mr. Darcy, upon learning of Mr. Wickham’s true nature, rescued his sister and determined to keep the situation secret in order to protect his sister.
  • Once Elizabeth learns of the true nature of events, she agrees with his procedure: keep what happened a secret. She considers changing her procedure when she returns home, but decides not to.
  • For many chapters, this procedure seems to be a good one. But then Elizabeth’s sister Lydia elopes with Mr. Wickham, and it becomes clear that the procedure did not lead to the intended results. Which leads to a new question: what should now be done? Ultimately, Mr. Darcy decides to solve the problem by forcing Mr. Wickham to marry Lydia.

Bonus resources on stasis theory: Silva Rhetoricae on Stasis Theory; Purdue Writing Lab on Stasis Theory.

Creating a Progression of Knowledge Discovery

Sometimes a series of discoveries in a novel are sequenced so that a character moves directly from fact to definition to quality to procedure. At other times, as in Northanger Abbey and Pride and Prejudice, certain types of discoveries are repeated or returned to again and again. And in other stories, a series of discovery may not need a certain type of information gap.

Yet regardless of what exactly the progression looks like, creating a progression helps create movement and a feeling of continuity in the story. Often these key discoveries (such as Mr. Wickham’s true nature) become important for key plot events later (Mr. Wickham running off with Lydia), and by creating a progression it creates better foreshadowing and more satisfying pay-offs for the reader.

Writing Exercises - Jane Austen Writing Lessons

Exercise 1:

While all genres of fiction have great examples of using a progression of discovery, one genre that is particularly known for it is the mystery genre. Watch a mystery film or read a mystery novel, and track different discoveries. What is revealed when? Which stases are used? How is a progression created, and how do these discoveries relate to and build on each other?

Exercise 2:

Choose an event or topic that involves disagreement. This could be a current/recent event (for example, something in the news), or something from your own life.

For this topic, consider how one group of people would define the facts, and how another group might consider the facts differently. Then consider how their perspectives would differ on definition, quality, and procedure, and fill out the following chart.

Perspective 1 Perspective 2
Fact
Definition
Quality
Procedure

How could understanding these different perspectives create plot conflict if this event or topic was included in a fictional story?

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Jane Austen Writing Lessons. Bonus Lesson: Imperfections and Sending Your Story into the World

Jane Austen on Imperfections and Sending Your Stories into the World

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Jane Austen Writing Lessons. Bonus Lesson: Imperfections and Sending Your Story into the World

I am traveling and have a number of other deadlines over the next few weeks, so instead of a regular Jane Austen Writing Lesson, I will instead offer several thoughts on writing, inspired by two of Jane Austen’s letters.

Pride and Prejudice was published on January 28, 1813, and on the 29th Jane wrote a letter to her sister Cassandra, telling her that she had received a copy of her book:

I want to tell you that I have got my own darling child from London.

This book was her “darling child,” and she immediately began reading it aloud to a friend, a Miss B. who had dined with them.

She really does seem to admire Elizabeth. I must confess that I think her as delightful a creature as ever appeared in print, and how I shall be able to tolerate those who do not like her at least, I do not know.

Like Austen, I am completely unable to tolerate people who dislike Elizabeth Bennet.

I really like what Austen writes next, about errors or shortfalls in her work:

There are a few typical errors; and a “said he,” or a “said she,” would sometimes make the dialogue more immediately clear; but “I do not write for such dull elves” as have not a great deal of ingenuity themselves. The second volume is shorter than I could wish, but the difference is not so much in reality as in look, there being a larger proportion of narrative in that part. I have lop’t and crop’t so successfully, however, that I imagine it must be rather shorter than “Sense and Sensibility” altogether.

I am currently working on proofreads of my second novel, and I have this overwhelming terror of having errors in the book (because there were a few errors that made it into the published version of my first novel). Yet even Jane Austen had to finish revising her novels and unleash them into the world, knowing that they were as good as she could make them at the time. Furthermore, if she had not left a few lines of dialogue unclear as to the speaker, modern scholars would lose out on all the fun they have debating about who to attribute those particular lines to.

In another letter penned the following week, Austen updated her sister after having read more of the novel aloud:

Upon the whole, however, I am quite vain enough and well satisfied enough.

May we all work to make our writing as good as we can possibly make it, and then may we be “well satisfied enough” to find joy in our work.

[Make sure to come back on August 4th—I’ll be back to my normal schedule of a new Jane Austen Writing Lesson every other Wednesday. Also, if you scroll down you can subscribe so you never miss a lesson!]

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Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #38: Establish an Information Gap

#38: Establish an Information Gap

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Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #38: Establish an Information Gap

In the last lesson, I talked about the importance of giving your character something to discover—this creates curiosity in the reader and a desire to continue reading the narrative. In order to establish this curiosity about discovery, writers create an information gap for both the characters and the readers. As George Loewenstein explained, an information gap is a gap “between what we know and what we want to know.”

But how, as writers, do we create this information gap? How do we make readers aware of the gap between what they know and what they want to know?

1. Establish an Information Gap by Using Character Anticipation

One of the simplest ways to establish an information gap is to show the characters anticipating something, in their thoughts and words and actions. If the characters desire to know something, then not only do readers learn about this desire, but they begin to develop this desire also.

In Emma, almost all the characters anticipate meeting Frank Churchill and learning what he is like, which creates an awareness of him for the reader, as well as a knowledge that we do not know his character. Coming to know him is established as something intrinsically interesting:

Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little returned that he had never been there in his life. His coming to visit his father had been often talked of but never achieved.

2. Establish an Information Gap by Breaking a Pattern

The human brain relies on patterns to make sense of the world. The book Made to Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Dies explains that our attention is drawn when a pattern is broken.

There are many “patterns” in Emma, and many of these are related to societal expectations. First, we expect that someone will meet there verbal and written commitments. Mr. Churchill commits to come to Highbury to visit his father, but then he does not. This breaks a pattern:

“Where is the young man?” said John Knightley. “Has he been here on this occasion—or has he not?”

“He has not been here yet,” replied Emma. “There was a strong expectation of his coming soon after the marriage, but it ended in nothing; and I have not heard him mentioned lately.”

There is also a societal expectation that someone will behave in a “proper manner” to family members. This respect and consideration would include visiting them, but Mr. Churchill does not visit.

Any time that a pattern is broken in a story, especially if it is a behavioral pattern, then it creates an information gap: we want to know why this pattern has been broken. Another famous example of breaking a pattern in Emma is when Jane Fairfax receives an unexpected gift from an undisclosed person of a pianoforte. People do not simply receive pianofortes from mysterious benefactors, then or today, and this breaking of a pattern immediately creates an information gap, a mystery that Emma is compelled to unravel.

Gif of Jane Fairfax playing the pianoforte in the 2020 film Emma

Gif of Jane Fairfax playing the pianoforte in the 2020 film Emma.

3. Establish an Information Gap by Giving Consequence to Not Finding Out

There are endless things that a character might not know, but we only care about them as readers—they only become actual information gaps for readers—if there is a consequence to not finding out. There must be a reason the characters need to discover something. If there are not consequences to not discovering something, in other words, if the information gap has no stakes, then the character has no reason to fill the information gap, and the reader will not care whether or not they do.

In Emma, we like the character of Mr. Weston and we like his new wife, Mrs. Weston. They are good people, who mean a lot to Emma and to others in the community. And so we care that Mr. Weston’s son, Frank Churchill, refuses to visit.

Yet the stakes are not just for the Westons. Emma’s desire to come to know Mr. Churchill and his character relates to her own personal wants and desires. She is a matchmaker, and she has envisioned a match for herself:

Now, it so happened that in spite of Emma’s resolution of never marrying, there was something in the name, in the idea of Mr. Frank Churchill, which always interested her. She had frequently thought—especially since his father’s marriage with Miss Taylor—that if she were to marry, he was the very person to suit her in age, character and condition. He seemed by this connexion between the families, quite to belong to her. She could not but suppose it to be a match that every body who knew them must think of. That Mr. and Mrs. Weston did think of it, she was very strongly persuaded; and though not meaning to be induced by him, or by any body else, to give up a situation which she believed more replete with good than any she could change it for, she had a great curiosity to see him, a decided intention of finding him pleasant, of being liked by him to a certain degree, and a sort of pleasure in the idea of their being coupled in their friends’ imaginations.

Filling this information gap—coming to know Mr. Churchill and his character—has personal consequences for Emma and her future happiness.

4. Establish an Information Gap by Raising New Questions When Questions are Answered

There is a risk in creating something for your characters to discover: once they have discovered it, why should we keep reading? For big questions, when a question is answered, then a new question is often raised.

In Emma, Frank Churchill does ultimately come to Highbury. We meet him, we see him in front of us. Yet a new question is brought to the fore: what is Frank Churhill’s character? Yes, he has come, but is he the sort of man Emma has expected? Will he meet Emma’s matchmaking expectations and fall in love with her? How will he behavior to various parties now that he is in Highbury? Will there be a ball, and who will he dance with at the ball?

New questions about Frank Churchill are raised with every question that is answered, and in a sense, the larger question that was established before his arrival—what is Frank Churchill’s character?—is never clearly answered. It requires the full novel to answer that question, and each little detail is just one piece of the puzzle.

5. Establish an Information Gap by Revealing Key Information

While it is common to conceal information in order to create an information gap, the reverse can also be done. Revealing key information can actually create an information gap as we become curious about the consequences of this information. This is especially true when what is revealed has the potential to disrupt the forward path of the protagonist.

Austen’s novel Emma relies on concealing information, but her novel Mansfield Park reveals information in order to create a need for discovery.

In Mansfield Park, the main character, Fanny Price, has watched with disapproval as a new neighbor, Henry Crawford, flirts shamelessly with her cousins Maria and Julia, despite the fact that Maria is engaged. Then Maria weds and both her and Julia leave Mansfield Park, and Henry Crawford decides to turn his attentions to Fanny.

At this point, Austen could have created the information gap by simply continuing to show Fanny’s viewpoint. Through Fanny’s eyes, we would begin to see Henry’s attentions to Fanny, and we would wonder at the cause of them. We would wonder if he had changed on a fundamental level, and we would desire to know what both he and Fanny will choose to do as a result of these intentions.

Yet Austen does not follow this storytelling path. Instead, Austen reveals a huge piece of information before Henry begins to pay his attentions to Fanny. Austen provides the following scene between Henry Crawford and his sister Mary:

“And how do you think I mean to amuse myself, Mary, on the days that I do not hunt? I am grown too old to go out more than three times a week; but I have a plan for the intermediate days, and what do you think it is?”

“To walk and ride with me, to be sure.”

“Not exactly, though I shall be happy to do both, but that would be exercise only to my body, and I must take care of my mind. Besides, that would be all recreation and indulgence, without the wholesome alloy of labour, and I do not like to eat the bread of idleness. No, my plan is to make Fanny Price in love with me.”

“Fanny Price! Nonsense! No, no. You ought to be satisfied with her two cousins.”

“But I cannot be satisfied without Fanny Price, without making a small hole in Fanny Price’s heart.”

Providing this key information to the reader actually raises the stakes and raises our curiosity: we know that Mr. Crawford intends to make Fanny fall in love with him simply because he likes playing with women’s hearts and he wants to amuse himself.

We know from the start that his attentions are not genuine, which heightens the information gap because we feel a strong need for Fanny to discover this.

The other questions are still raised: Will Henry Crawford change? Will his affections become genuine? What will Henry Crawford and Fanny decide to do?

In this particular case, the key information is revealed to the reader but not to the protagonist, yet at times the key information which creates an information gap can be revealed to both the reader and to the protagonist.

In Conclusion

The five key techniques Jane Austen uses to create information gaps and a thirst for discovery are:

  1. Using character anticipation
  2. Breaking a pattern
  3. Giving consequence to not finding out
  4. Raising new questions when questions are answered
  5. Revealing key information

Each of these is a power tool to create a gap between what the reader and character know, and what the reader and character want to know. These five techniques can be used individually or in combination.

In the next lesson, I’ll talk about the four categories of things that a reader and a character might want to discover.

Writing Exercises - Jane Austen Writing Lessons

Exercise 1: Breaking a pattern

Write a brief scene which includes a number of people doing ordinary or expected things in a place (i.e. a grocery store, a sports game, or a family gathering). Quickly establish the normal pattern of behavior, and then have someone break the pattern.

Exercise 2: Set a timer for 5 or 10 minutes. During this time, make a list of as many events, secrets, characteristics, etc. as possible that be something that characters must discover. Once you’re done, categorize each item on the list as one of the following:

H: Information that, at first, should be hidden or only hinted at—the process of discovery is finding out this information.

R: Information that should be revealed early on to the reader and/or to the character. The information gap and the process of discovery comes from the implications of this revelation.

H or R: This information could work equally well as hidden information or revealed information, though doing so would change the direction of the story.

Exercise 3: Find a story where a character is actively trying to discover something and analyze it: When is the information gap set up? What techniques are used to establish the information gap? Are there multiple information gaps?

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Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #37: Give Your Characters Something to Discover

#37: Give Your Characters Something to Discover

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Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #37: Give Your Characters Something to Discover

In one of the famous scenes in Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy dance at Netherfield Ball. After Elizabeth asks him a series of questions, Mr. Darcy says:

“May I ask to what these questions tend?”

“Merely to the illustration of your character,” said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. “I am trying to make it out.”

“And what is your success?”

She shook her head. “I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.”

Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy dancing in 2005 Pride and Prejudice

Gif of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy dancing in the 2005 film Pride and Prejudice

Throughout Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth attempts to discover Mr. Darcy’s character, through conversations with him, conversations with others (including Mr. Wickham and Miss Bingley), and through observation of his behavior. In a sense, Mr. Darcy’s character is a mystery, and Elizabeth the detective.

While most of Jane Austen’s novels would not be considered mystery novels on the surface (with the exception of Northanger Abbey, which is a Gothic pastiche), every single Jane Austen novel contains mysteries, things big and small which the characters are attempting to discover. And whenever Austen’s characters are on the road to discovery, readers are hungry for discovery as well.

People in general—and readers especially—are curious, and this is why we like mysteries, this is why we like reading about the process of discovery.

Scientific research backs this up, particularly the theory called the information gap of curiosity.

The information gap theory of curiosity

An article in Wired magazine, “The Itch of Curiosity,” provides a good explanation of the information gap:

The information gap theory of curiosity…was first developed by George Loewenstein of Carnegie-Mellon in the early 90s. According to Loewenstein, curiosity is rather simple: It comes when we feel a gap ‘between what we know and what we want to know’. This gap has emotional consequences: it feels like a mental itch, a mosquito bite on the brain. We seek out new knowledge because we that’s how we scratch the itch.

Jane Austen constantly constructs information gaps which provoke the curiosity of readers and keep them turning the pages.

Sometimes these information gaps are small. For example, as Elizabeth arrives at Netherfield Ball, there are a series of information gaps:

  • Where is Mr. Wickham?
  • Is Mr. Wickham even going to attend the ball?
  • What is Mr. Wickham’s real reason for staying away?

And then, the novel has larger information gaps, gaps that take a large portion of the narrative to answer:

  • Who is right—Mr. Wickham or Mr. Darcy?
  • And what should be done once that knowledge is obtained?

There is also a series of questions which invite discovery about Mr. Bingley:

  • What will Mr. Bingley be like?
  • Will Mr. Bingley be interested in one of the Bennet daughters?
  • Why has Mr. Bingley left?
  • Will Jane see Mr. Bingley in London?
  • Will Jane and Mr. Bingley find happiness?

In his famous screenwriting book, Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting, Robert McKee writes, “Curiosity is the intellectual need to answer questions and close open patterns. Story plays to this universal desire by doing the opposite, posing questions and opening situations.”

Over the coming weeks, we’ll discuss different aspects of incorporating mystery and discovery into fiction of all genres and styles. By following Austen’s example, and creating possibilities for discovery, we can make our stories more compelling and pique readers’ curiosity.

*Note: There’s a great article by scholar Ellen R. Belton titled “Mystery Without Murder: The Detective Plots of Jane Austen.” Belton makes the argument that Austen’s novels are not simply using aspects of mystery and discovery, but are bona fide detective novels—the protagonists are “not investigating criminals, but potential marriage partners.”

Writing Exercises - Jane Austen Writing Lessons

Exercise 1: Rush write a short reflection on the following: What is something that makes you curious? When did you first become interested and why? What makes you want to find out more?

Exercise 2: Choose a published story that’s not in the mystery genre. Make a list of examples of information gaps, mysteries, and discoveries within the story.

Exercise 3: Write a scene about a character doing something that is ordinary or routine, such as taking the subway or drinking coffee. The catch? The scene must include an information gap—a mystery, something that must be discovered.

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Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #36: Use the Setting as a Character

#36: Use the Setting as a Character

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Jane Austen Writing Lessons. #36: Use the Setting as a Character

In the past few weeks, we’ve talked about a number of concepts related to setting:

Now, for the final post on setting, I want to address one final topic:

Using the setting as a character

I’ve seen some writers claim that every well-written setting is a character, but to me, making this argument is problematic: if every setting is a character, then the words “setting” and “character” cease to be useful—their meanings are conflated and it is more difficult to talk about their very really differences.

In most stories, the setting is not a character. This is true for most of Jane Austen’s work: her settings are interesting and profound, they reflect the character’s emotional states and sometimes the themes of her stories, yet they aren’t characters. Her settings have character, they have flavor, they mean something to the characters, and they impact the plot, but still they are not characters.

One of the Oxford English Dictionary’s definitions is useful in terms of how we use the word “character” in regard to stories:

Character, noun: “A person portrayed in a work of fiction, a drama, a film, a comic strip, etc.; (also) a part played by an actor on the stage, in a film, etc., a role.”

Ultimately, a character is a person, and ultimately, a setting is not.

Yet sometimes, a setting does act the part of a character; sometimes, a setting acts with personhood.

For instance, in “man vs. nature” stories (which includes everything from disaster stories to smaller, more individual stories like Hatchet), the setting does act as a character—but not just any character; here the setting acts as an antagonist, often virulent, actively fighting against the protagonist and their goals.

Yet you don’t have a sinister, oppositional setting for the setting to act as a character in the story.

In order for a setting to be a character it must:

  1. Play an active part in the story; be an actor.
  2. Impact multiple plot points throughout the story.
  3. Carry a larger metaphorical role that is present throughout the narrative, not just in one particular scene or section.
  4. Be vibrant like a living organism, and have the potential for change.
  5. Receive the sort of attention from characters that is normally reserved for people.
  6. Not be a manifestation of a single character or a small group of characters. (For this reason, Rosings would not be a character, because while it is important, it is entirely defined by Lady Catherine de Bourgh.)

A clear example of Jane Austen using setting as a character is in her uncompleted novel Sanditon. Sanditon is a changing, growing sea town that is attempting to grow into a destination, and it acts as a character in the story.

A page from the manuscript of Sanditon

A page from the manuscript of Sanditon

One of the characters, Mr. Parker, describes Sanditon:

“Sanditon itself—everybody has heard of Sanditon,–the favourite spot of all that are to be found along the coast of Sussex;–the most favoured by Nature, and promising to be the most chosen by man.”

He goes on to say:

“Nature had marked it out—had spoken in most intelligible characters—the finest, purest sea breeze on the coast—acknowledged to be so—excellent bathing—find hard sand—deep water ten yards from the shore—no mud—no weeds—no slimy rocks—never was there a place more palpably designed by Nature for the resort of the invalid—the very spot which thousands seemed in need of—the most desirable distance from London!”

The narrator comments:

Sanditon—the success of Sanditon as a small, fashionable bathing place was the object for which he seemed to live….Sanditon was a second wife and four children to him—hardly less dear—and certainly more engrossing.

Sanditon is in a moment of transformation—it is growing, and how it will grow and develop and effect its inhabitants and its visitors is still unclear. The old is being discarded and the new sought for. Mrs. Parker sees the things that have been lost, the things she misses, the advantages of the old Sanditon, while Mr. Parker sees breaking from the past as a good thing:

“And whose very snug-looking place is this?” said Charlotte, as in a sheltered dip within two miles of the sea, they passed close by a moderate-sized house, well fenced and planted, and rich in the garden, orchards and meadows which are the best embellishments of such a dwelling. “It seems to have as many comforts about it as Willingden.”

“Ah!” said Mr. Parker. “This is my old house—the house of my forefathers—the house where I and all my brothers and sisters were born and bred—and where my own three eldest children were born—where Mrs. Parker and I lived till within the last two years—till our new house was finished….

“One other hill brings us to Sanditon—modern Sanditon—a beautiful spot.—Our ancestors, you know, always built in a hole.—Here were we, pent down in this little contracted nook, without air or view, only one mile and three quarters from the noblest expanse of ocean between the South Foreland and the Land’s End, and without having the smallest advantage from it. You will not think I have made a bad exchange when we reach Trafalgar House—which, by the bye, I almost wish I had not named Trafalgar—for Waterloo is more the thing now.”

Yet while Mr. Parker is leading many of the efforts to transform Sanditon, it refuses to be defined by him. It is talked of constantly by others, from Lady Denham to Sir Edward, and many actors have a role in its future, and its future will impact the fates of dozens of characters.

Mr. Parker clings to the idea of Sanditon on a track of forward progress, he holds to his expectations for it:

“Civilization, civilization indeed!….Who would have expected such a sight as a shoemaker’s in old Sanditon!—This is new within the month.”

Yet he cannot control it; it refuses to mold to his desires; it is separate from himself and what he wants for it:

It was emptiness and tranquility on the Terrace, the cliffs, and the sands. The shops were deserted, the straw hats and pendant lace seemed left to their fate both within the house and without, and Mrs. Whitby at the library was sitting in her inner room reading one of her own novels, for want of employment.

It is a place of tension, where even its number and type of inhabitants are outside of anyone’s control:

Mr. Parker could not but feel that the list [of families] was not only without distinction, but less numerous than he had hoped.

Andrew Davies’ television series Sanditon continues Jane Austen’s unfinished story. In the first season, Davies does an excellent job of making Sanditon a character. We see its growing pains, the troubles of the workers, money problems, and, in the final episode of the season, what begins as a minor problem within the setting becomes a major problem for the entire community. In Davies’ adaptation, the setting is constantly an actor in the story and the lives of the other characters.

Writing Exercises - Jane Austen Writing Lessons

Exercise 1: Read the article Ten Books Where the Setting is a Character. Find another example of a setting that is also a character. What makes the setting a character? Why is it useful for the story to have this setting as a character?

Exercise 2: Set a timer for twenty or thirty minutes and begin writing a flash fiction story (less than 1000 words) where the setting is a character. You could use your time to outline and develop ideas or to rush write the beginning of the story. If you the like the direction of focus of the story, take additional time to finish writing and revising it.

Exercise 3: Choose three settings that you have experienced in real life (cities, buildings, outdoor regions, etc.) that would make good candidates for being a character in a story. Make a list of each of their distinguishing attributes, and then add a few notes for what it would take for these to not just be a really compelling, cool setting, but also a character in a story.

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