A Swim in a Pond in the Rain

1. Read Like a Writer: The P/N Meter of Engagement

Criticism is not some inscrutable, mysterious process. It’s just a matter of: (1) noticing ourselves responding to a work of art, moment by moment, and (2) getting better at articulating that response.

Active Reading. To truly understand how a story works, one must engage with it actively, line by line, sentence by sentence. Imagine an internal "P/N meter" in your forehead, registering "Positive" for engagement and "Negative" for disengagement. This intuitive gauge helps you track your emotional and intellectual responses, revealing the story's subtle mechanics.

Moment-by-Moment Feedback. Every sentence in a well-crafted story is a "gas station," propelling the reader forward with bursts of honesty, wit, or powerful language. If the P/N meter dips into the negative, it signals a moment where the writer lost connection, perhaps through:

• Lack of specificity
• Unearned sentiment
• Illogical progression
• Repetitive beats

Empowering Process. This diagnostic approach empowers both readers and writers. For readers, it sharpens their "built-in, shockproof, shit detector," making them more discerning consumers of information. For writers, it provides a concrete method for identifying where a story falters and how to make it more compelling, ensuring the reader feels respected and compelled to continue.

2. Specificity Drives Meaning and Plot

Characterization, so called, results from just such increasing specification.

Concrete Details. Fiction thrives on specificity. Instead of broad generalizations, precise details bring a story to life, making characters and settings feel real and unique. This isn't just about description; it's about creating a narrowing path of possibilities that defines who a character is and what meaningful actions they might take.

Plot from Character. Once a character is made specific, their potential for "meaningful action" (plot) increases. For example:

• A boy afraid of water implies a future encounter with a pond or river.
• A woman tired of monotony suggests a disruption to her routine.
• A person who loves only money hints at a conflict involving wealth.

Causality's Foundation. Specificity is the bedrock of causality. When a character's traits are clearly defined, their reactions to events become believable and impactful, creating a chain of cause and effect that drives the narrative forward. Without specific characters, events feel random and lack emotional resonance.

3. Escalation: The Engine of Storytelling

What transforms an anecdote into a story is escalation.

Beyond Anecdote. A story is not merely a sequence of events; it's a narrative that continually deepens and intensifies. Escalation means that each new event or revelation pushes the story forward, changing the character's condition or our understanding of it, rather than simply repeating what's already been established.

Refusal to Repeat. To achieve escalation, a writer must avoid repeating "beats"—once a fundamental change has occurred, the story cannot simply elaborate on that state. Instead, it must introduce new complications or insights. For instance, in "The Darling," Olenka's pattern of loving is repeated, but each iteration introduces subtle variations that escalate our understanding of her character and the nature of love itself.

Creating Momentum. Escalation creates narrative propulsion, making the reader feel that something significant is always at stake. This can be achieved through:

• Introducing new conflicts
• Revealing hidden aspects of character
• Increasing the emotional or physical stakes
• Challenging previously held assumptions

This constant forward momentum ensures the story remains dynamic and engaging, preventing it from becoming static or predictable.

4. Pattern and Variation: The Art of Expectation

A pattern is established and we expect it to recur. When it does recur, slightly altered, we take pleasure in this and infer meaning from the alteration.

Predictable Yet Surprising. Stories often establish patterns—recurring events, character traits, or structural elements. This creates readerly expectation. The art lies in fulfilling these expectations not too neatly, but with subtle variations that deepen meaning and surprise the reader.

Meaning Through Juxtaposition. When a pattern recurs with a slight alteration, the reader's mind automatically compares the new instance with the old, inferring meaning from the differences. In "The Darling," Olenka's successive relationships follow a similar pattern, but the variations in their details—duration, emotional intensity, method of parting—reveal evolving truths about her character and the nature of love.

Propulsion and Depth. This interplay of pattern and variation provides both propulsion and depth:

• Propulsion: The anticipation of the pattern's recurrence keeps the reader engaged.
• Depth: The subtle changes within the pattern invite deeper reflection and interpretation, transforming simple repetition into complex meaning.

This technique allows a story to explore its themes from multiple angles, creating a rich, multi-layered experience that resonates long after the final page.

5. Ritual Banality Avoidance: Embrace the Unexpected

If we deny ourselves the crappo version of our story, a better version will (we aspirationally assume) present itself.

Rejecting the Obvious. A crucial move for any writer is to deliberately avoid predictable or clichéd plot points. If the most obvious solution presents itself, a writer should consider rejecting it, forcing the narrative to find a more original and profound path. This "ritual banality avoidance" is a leap of faith that often leads to deeper, more ambitious storytelling.

Forcing the Story's Hand. By removing the easy way out, the writer compels the story to explore more complex questions. For example, in "In the Cart," when Hanov, the potential love interest, exits the story, it forces Chekhov to confront Marya's loneliness in a more profound way, asking: "What if a lonely person can find no way out of her loneliness?"

Virtuosity in Constraint. This self-imposed constraint is a form of artistic virtuosity. It challenges the writer to dig deeper, to discover solutions that are not immediately apparent, and to create a narrative that genuinely surprises and moves the reader. It's about trusting that a more sophisticated truth will emerge when the convenient one is discarded.

6. The Heart of the Story: Uncovering Its Core Purpose

When all is said and done, what do you claim to live by, story? I need to know this so I can see how well your non-normative aspects are serving the heart of you.

Central Question. Every story, whether consciously or unconsciously, is trying to answer a central question or explore a core idea. Identifying this "heart" allows a reader to assess the story's efficiency and coherence. All elements, even seemingly extraneous ones, should ultimately serve this central purpose.

Efficiency Assessment. Just as a joke's efficiency is judged by how well its elements serve the punchline, a story's quality is measured by how effectively its parts contribute to its core meaning. Digressions, detailed descriptions, or unusual events must earn their keep by enriching or complicating the story's central concern.

Example from "The Singers": The singing contest is the heart of the story. The lengthy character descriptions and digressions, initially perceived as excessive, ultimately serve to:

• Establish a panel of judges with varying credibility.
• Provide context for the emotional impact of the performances.
• Deepen the thematic contrast between technical prowess and emotional truth.

By understanding the story's core, we can appreciate how seemingly "non-normative" elements are, in fact, integral to its overall design and impact.

7. Voice as Truth: The Power of Unreliable Narration

The entire drama of life on earth is: Skaz-Headed Person #1 steps outside, where he encounters Skaz-Headed Person #2. Both, seeing themselves as the center of the universe, thinking highly of themselves, immediately slightly misunderstand everything.

Subjective Reality. Gogol's "The Nose" exemplifies skaz, a form of narration where the storyteller's voice is distinct, often flawed, and reveals as much about the narrator's skewed perception as it does about the events. This challenges the notion of objective truth, suggesting that all reality is filtered through individual, often unreliable, consciousness.

Misnarration as Revelation. The narrator's "improper narrative emphasis," digressions, and failure to register adequate amazement at absurd events are not flaws but deliberate techniques. They:

• Undermine the narrator's authority, making him another character.
• Highlight the inherent limitations and biases of language itself.
• Create a world where miscommunication and irrationality are the norm.

The Human Condition. Gogol implies that this "skaz loop" of self-centered, slightly deluded perception is the default human condition. We constantly mistake our internal projections for external reality, leading to misunderstandings, conflicts, and a world that often feels absurd, even when people are trying to be kind.

8. The Wisdom of Omission: Ambiguity Deepens Truth

Omission is sometimes a defect and leads to unclearness. But other times it’s a virtue and leads to ambiguity and an increase in narrative tension.

Unanswered Questions. Sometimes, the most powerful artistic choice is to withhold information or leave questions unanswered. This deliberate omission can prevent a story from becoming didactic or simplistic, allowing for multiple, coexisting interpretations that enrich its meaning.

Tolstoy's "Alyosha the Pot": In Alyosha's death scene, Tolstoy refrains from explicitly detailing Alyosha's final thoughts or realizations. This omission creates a profound ambiguity:

• Did Alyosha realize he lived too submissively?
• Was he simply amazed by God's love?
• Did he regret his passivity or embrace it as spiritual triumph?

Reader Engagement. By not providing a definitive answer, the story compels the reader to engage more deeply, to "keep wondering." This active participation transforms the story from a mere message delivery system into a complex "reconsideration machine" that challenges our own assumptions about life, suffering, and virtue.

9. Revision as Intuitive Iteration: Finding Your Unique Voice

The writer spends her whole artistic life trying to figure out what gas stations she is uniquely capable of making.

Iterative Process. Writing is not about having a clear intention and executing it perfectly; it's a repetitive, intuitive process of refinement. Imagine a "P/N meter" guiding countless revisions, where each small adjustment—a cut, a rearrangement, a word change—is made based on an immediate, felt sense of "that's better."

Trusting Intuition. This method involves trusting an inner voice that knows what it likes, even if it can't articulate why. Over hundreds of drafts, these micro-decisions accumulate, slowly steering the story toward its most energetic and authentic form. This process allows the story to "surpass my initial vision of it," revealing truths the writer didn't consciously intend.

Embracing "Me-ness." Finding one's unique voice means embracing one's natural mode of expression, even if it's flawed or unconventional. It's about discovering what "gas stations" (moments of charm, wit, honesty) you are uniquely capable of creating, rather than imitating others. This commitment to one's radical preference is what makes a work feel highly organized and infused with the writer's distinct sensibility.

10. Fiction's True Purpose: Formulating Problems, Fostering Connection

Art doesn’t have to solve problems, it only has to formulate them correctly.

Beyond Solutions. The ultimate purpose of fiction is not to provide definitive answers or moral prescriptions. Instead, it excels at "formulating problems correctly"—making us feel the complexities of human dilemmas fully, without denying any part of them. This involves exploring questions from multiple, often contradictory, angles.

Fostering Empathy. By immersing us in the inner lives of diverse characters, fiction expands our capacity for empathy. We become "friends" with characters like Marya or Olenka, understanding their struggles and motivations, even when they are flawed. This intimate connection with an "imaginary Other" prepares us to engage with real-world others with less panic and more understanding.

A Humble Yet Profound Impact. While fiction may not avert global disasters, its power lies in causing "an incremental change in the state of a mind." This change, though finite, is real. It reminds us of the possibility of connection, encourages reconsideration of rigid beliefs, and cultivates a perpetual curiosity about the world and its inhabitants, making us more alert, generous, and alive.

Last updated: November 20, 2025