Writer to writer: From think to ink - Gail Carson Levine 2014

Tense choices
Underpinnings

So far we’ve looked into the writing process, character, and plot. Let’s move on to the underpinnings of storytelling. Charlotte wrote on the blog, “I’ve been thinking lately about tense, as in past or present. I’ve read some fantastic stuff in the present tense . . . and I’ve been wondering which tense a story should be written in, and how to decide.”

I’ve chosen to write an entire narrative in present tense only twice, once in a novel and once in a short story. My historical fantasy Ever is in the present tense, and I wrote it that way because the survival of Kezi, one of my POV characters, is in doubt. I felt that if I used the past tense, readers would assume she’s okay at the end. I also used present tense in a short story called “Little Time,” which appeared in a book titled Unexpected. I used it in that case because my MC has to decide whether or not to shrink and join a society of long-lived tiny people. I wanted the reader right there with her as she chooses.

Otherwise, I’ve stuck with past tense, which generally seems more timeless and storybook-like to me than present. When we’re deciding, we can ask ourselves which effect we want. We can also look at our old stories to see if we gravitate one way or the other, and then we can choose whether we want to go with our usual flow or if we want to write against it.

We can even incorporate both tenses into a story. Susan Cooper’s novel Victory alternates between a modern narrator and a nineteenth-century one. The current-day chapters are written in the present tense, the historical ones in the past tense. I suppose they both could have been in one or the other, but this way works beautifully—and it’s a terrific book.

Sometimes we won’t have a strong reason to choose one tense over another. In those cases I’m prejudiced in favor of past tense, which I think is more flexible even when we’re writing a gritty, contemporary tale. We can overcome the storybook feeling like this, for example: Mickey spat cigar juice into the gutter and muttered, “You do that again, I’ll knot your legs into a pretzel.” But it’s harder to get that timeless aura in present tense. Let’s take a medieval fantasy as an example, as in Sir Grathnath turns to his liege lord and says, “I pledge my allegiance until the firmaments ripple and the seas grow trees.” Then he dons his armor and buckles on his trusty sword. Doesn’t sound right.

When I say I have a bias, I mean as a writer, not as a reader. As a reader I’m fine with either tense. If I like the story, I’m just happy. For a writer, though, present tense seems like more of a decision. Past tense seems more like, for good or ill, choosing the common path.

Flashbacks operate a little differently in each tense. If we’re writing in present tense, we just have to switch to simple past. If we’re already in past tense, we need past perfect with the auxiliary verb had, as I talked about in chapter 22.

When I was thinking about tense for the blog, I called Rosemary, my editor, to ask if she has a tense bias (I didn’t tell her mine). She doesn’t. She said the tense just needs to serve the story. I asked what kind of story is best served by which tense, and she thought that mystery and suspense stories sometimes benefit from present tense, allowing the reader to get inside the action. She also opined that present tense can be harder to pull off. She felt that flashbacks can be harder in present tense, the shift from present to past more jarring. She added that some authors try one tense, find it isn’t working, and shift to the other.

I called Ginger, my literary agent, too, who had no preference either at first, but, after thinking a minute, said she might like present tense better. Then she became unsure again. We segued into a discussion of great beginnings. Peter Pan, for example, starts in present tense and shifts into past in midsentence. Here’s how James M. Barrie does it (the underline is mine):

All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this.

See where the change happens? Like Barrie, we can switch to present tense even if we’re writing in the past.

What we want to watch out for, though, is tense drift. Our story is steaming along in past tense when it suddenly shifts to present and then veers back. We don’t do it on purpose for an important artistic reason; we simply fail to notice. It’s not a big deal, just another thing to mop up in revision. When the story is finished, we want it to be consistent.

I’ve never read anything in the future tense, but it might be fascinating to try. The tense would lend an air of inevitability, as in The passengers will mill on the dock, embracing friends and relatives. The Titanic’s four smokestacks, straight and solid as anything made by man, will appear to be pillars supporting the sky. Hmm.

Writing time!

• Rewrite the beginning few pages of one of your stories in the other tense—past if you’re using present, present if you’re using past. How do you feel about it? Which do you like better?

• Use these sentences as a story starter: Nancy had seen this blue-headed boy before. It had been during school break in the fall, when she and her father had gone to the shore for one of their long rambles. They picked up knobby skipping tortoise shells and smooth driftwood.

• Try writing a story in future tense. I suspect you’ll need either a tragic ending or an upbeat one. A Roman myth might work well: a sad one, like the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, or a happy one, like the tale of Cupid and Psyche.

Have fun, and save what you write!