Susan Z. Ritz's Blog
August 9, 2019
How to Write About Dreams
How to Write About Dreams
We all like to talk about our dreams, but few people want to hear about them. Our own dreams are revelatory, scary, confusing, funny, and weird; other people’s dreams are just plain boring. That’s why so many writing teachers and editors warn us not to throw dreams into our stories if we want to keep our readers turning pages.
When I sat down to write my mystery, A Dream to Die For, I knew I was going to have to come up with ways to write about dreams that made people want to read them. I didn’t want to rely on dream sequences—you know, those italicized paragraphs we all tend to skim? They can be hokey or gimmicky and usually interrupt the action just as things are getting good. There had to be a way to put dreams into a book about the murder of a dream therapist and leader of a cult of Dreamers. I just needed to figure out how to write them to enhance rather than detract from the plot.
First, I had to ask myself what I wanted the dreams to do. I couldn’t throw them in just to up the word count. Like every scene in a well-written book, they had to serve the story. In my case, I wanted dreams to do two separate things—drive the plot forward or reveal something about a character’s inner life I couldn’t show any other way.
Next, I considered the nature of dreams. Dreams themselves rarely make sense. They don’t come to us as fully-fleshed out stories with a clear narrative arc. They arrive fractured, fragmented, filled with puzzling symbols. They are ephemeral, and we often find ourselves chasing after images before they disappear, trying to remember exactly what it was that frightened us, delighted us, or surprised us. I wanted the dreams in my book to reflect the fleeting, often bewildering quality of the dreams I experience when I’m asleep. I also needed them to push the plot forward while revealing the inner lives of the characters who dream them.
My book begins with my protagonist, Celeste, trying to remember last night’s dream and only recalling three short images. A woman at a window. Bushes blowing in a soft breeze. A shadow coming at her from behind. My own dream journals are filled with snippets like these, so I decided to use fragments as the recurring dream that appears throughout the book. Each time the dream shows up, it gives the reader a little more information. Short, dramatic, and essential to the plot, these tiny sequences mimic the ephemeral nature of dreams and also serve as important clues, building tension and suspense.
I realized that I had to do something very different to show the characters’ inner conflicts and fears. Dreams on their own don’t tell us much. They are illogical, often preposterous, and only gain coherence when we wake and try to figure them out. I didn’t need to make up some hokey dream sequences to get at my characters’ anxieties. The contents of the dreams themselves didn’t matter. Instead, I needed to show how they interpreted their dreams. Because many of the characters in my book are in a dream cult, I had plenty of opportunities to create scenes that better divulged their inner lives. They write them down in dream journals; they discuss them with other Dreamers; or they ruminate over them as they go about their daily routines. I embedded the dreams into scenes with action, dialogue, and a natural place in the narrative. Instead of interrupting the flow of the plot, they propelled it in new directions. I unearthed subconscious emotions and thoughts without dragging my readers through long italicized dream sequences that took away from the action.
But if your story is not as plot-driven as mine, you might want to use dreams to add a lyrical touch. If so, pay attention to your own dreams. Write them down for a few weeks. You’ll notice how images flow into each other, how scenes change without any meaningful transition. You’re sitting on a beach. You raise your hand and you’re standing in a cornfield. If you echo the flow of the images you’ve recorded, you are sure to create prose poems, which are the best way I know to mimic the actual rhythm of dreams.
The most important thing to remember is that dreams, like any other part of your book, need a purpose. If you know why you need a dream in your story, you can figure out the best way to write it.
We all like to talk about our dreams, but few people want to hear about them. Our own dreams are revelatory, scary, confusing, funny, and weird; other people’s dreams are just plain boring. That’s why so many writing teachers and editors warn us not to throw dreams into our stories if we want to keep our readers turning pages.
When I sat down to write my mystery, A Dream to Die For, I knew I was going to have to come up with ways to write about dreams that made people want to read them. I didn’t want to rely on dream sequences—you know, those italicized paragraphs we all tend to skim? They can be hokey or gimmicky and usually interrupt the action just as things are getting good. There had to be a way to put dreams into a book about the murder of a dream therapist and leader of a cult of Dreamers. I just needed to figure out how to write them to enhance rather than detract from the plot.
First, I had to ask myself what I wanted the dreams to do. I couldn’t throw them in just to up the word count. Like every scene in a well-written book, they had to serve the story. In my case, I wanted dreams to do two separate things—drive the plot forward or reveal something about a character’s inner life I couldn’t show any other way.
Next, I considered the nature of dreams. Dreams themselves rarely make sense. They don’t come to us as fully-fleshed out stories with a clear narrative arc. They arrive fractured, fragmented, filled with puzzling symbols. They are ephemeral, and we often find ourselves chasing after images before they disappear, trying to remember exactly what it was that frightened us, delighted us, or surprised us. I wanted the dreams in my book to reflect the fleeting, often bewildering quality of the dreams I experience when I’m asleep. I also needed them to push the plot forward while revealing the inner lives of the characters who dream them.
My book begins with my protagonist, Celeste, trying to remember last night’s dream and only recalling three short images. A woman at a window. Bushes blowing in a soft breeze. A shadow coming at her from behind. My own dream journals are filled with snippets like these, so I decided to use fragments as the recurring dream that appears throughout the book. Each time the dream shows up, it gives the reader a little more information. Short, dramatic, and essential to the plot, these tiny sequences mimic the ephemeral nature of dreams and also serve as important clues, building tension and suspense.
I realized that I had to do something very different to show the characters’ inner conflicts and fears. Dreams on their own don’t tell us much. They are illogical, often preposterous, and only gain coherence when we wake and try to figure them out. I didn’t need to make up some hokey dream sequences to get at my characters’ anxieties. The contents of the dreams themselves didn’t matter. Instead, I needed to show how they interpreted their dreams. Because many of the characters in my book are in a dream cult, I had plenty of opportunities to create scenes that better divulged their inner lives. They write them down in dream journals; they discuss them with other Dreamers; or they ruminate over them as they go about their daily routines. I embedded the dreams into scenes with action, dialogue, and a natural place in the narrative. Instead of interrupting the flow of the plot, they propelled it in new directions. I unearthed subconscious emotions and thoughts without dragging my readers through long italicized dream sequences that took away from the action.
But if your story is not as plot-driven as mine, you might want to use dreams to add a lyrical touch. If so, pay attention to your own dreams. Write them down for a few weeks. You’ll notice how images flow into each other, how scenes change without any meaningful transition. You’re sitting on a beach. You raise your hand and you’re standing in a cornfield. If you echo the flow of the images you’ve recorded, you are sure to create prose poems, which are the best way I know to mimic the actual rhythm of dreams.
The most important thing to remember is that dreams, like any other part of your book, need a purpose. If you know why you need a dream in your story, you can figure out the best way to write it.
July 14, 2019
Join A Writers Group
Join a Writing Group!
Like many women authors, I have always considered writing a communal act. That’s why I have been in a writing group for over twenty-five years. As with many other auspicious encounters in my life, I found the group through my dog walking connections on a snowy day in Montpelier’s Hubbard Park. My Wheaten terrier, the late, great Watson, got into a friendly tussle with another dog. Talking to the owner, I discovered we were both writers. She asked me if I wanted to try out for the group. I brought my very first short story, which was well received, and I was accepted. Since then, writing group has become one of the most important parts of my life, giving me a bi-weekly writing deadline and a supportive audience. It’s also a place to share publishing woes and wins, to complain about hard times, and help each other with the key ingredient to success—perseverance.
Many members have come and gone over the years. Several have published their books and moved on, others have dropped out for lack of time, changes in life circumstances or changes in writing needs. But several things about the group have stayed the same because they work.
For most of the years, we have met at my house every other Tuesday evening. We loosely follow Peter Elbow’s (Writing Without Teachers) guidelines for constructive criticism. Each member brings a piece she has been working on to read aloud to the group. When she is finished, we go around the table, offering our comments and suggestions as the reader listens silently. She is not allowed to argue or answer questions until everyone has had her say. Though I often find it hard not to speak while my work is being critiqued, I know the silence rule gives me space to absorb the suggestions without being defensive or responding in the moment. This process has taught me to be not just a better listener, but also a better writer because I learn so much from looking closely at the others’ work. In fact, I learned everything I know about writing fiction from this group. I could never have written A Dream to Die For without them.
Sometimes I look back and am amazed by the number of books we have produced This stack is only half of what we have published. Quite an accomplishment, if I do say so myself.
/Users/sritz/Pictures/Photos Library.photoslibrary/resources/proxi...
Books: A Dream to Die For by Susan Z. Ritz; Where a Wave Meets the Shore and Deceptive Cadence (Book 1 in the Virtuosic Spy series); Shadow Girl by Deb Abramson; Water Shaper and Alia Waking by Laura Williams McCaffery; The Shape of the Sky by Shelagh Connor Shapiro; Trigger Warning and Feminist on Fire by Coleen Kearon
When anyone asks what advice I would give a novice writer, I always say, “Join a writing group!” If you’re lucky enough to find one as good as mine, you’ll find yourself taking risks, exploring new territory, and discovering your own depths. For me and for many women, the daily isolation of the writing life can lead to self-doubt, procrastination and getting stuck in a rut. A writing group is the perfect antidote. By sharing our work, our successes and failures, and our fears and hopes, we help each other face that blank page knowing we are not alone.
Like many women authors, I have always considered writing a communal act. That’s why I have been in a writing group for over twenty-five years. As with many other auspicious encounters in my life, I found the group through my dog walking connections on a snowy day in Montpelier’s Hubbard Park. My Wheaten terrier, the late, great Watson, got into a friendly tussle with another dog. Talking to the owner, I discovered we were both writers. She asked me if I wanted to try out for the group. I brought my very first short story, which was well received, and I was accepted. Since then, writing group has become one of the most important parts of my life, giving me a bi-weekly writing deadline and a supportive audience. It’s also a place to share publishing woes and wins, to complain about hard times, and help each other with the key ingredient to success—perseverance.
Many members have come and gone over the years. Several have published their books and moved on, others have dropped out for lack of time, changes in life circumstances or changes in writing needs. But several things about the group have stayed the same because they work.
For most of the years, we have met at my house every other Tuesday evening. We loosely follow Peter Elbow’s (Writing Without Teachers) guidelines for constructive criticism. Each member brings a piece she has been working on to read aloud to the group. When she is finished, we go around the table, offering our comments and suggestions as the reader listens silently. She is not allowed to argue or answer questions until everyone has had her say. Though I often find it hard not to speak while my work is being critiqued, I know the silence rule gives me space to absorb the suggestions without being defensive or responding in the moment. This process has taught me to be not just a better listener, but also a better writer because I learn so much from looking closely at the others’ work. In fact, I learned everything I know about writing fiction from this group. I could never have written A Dream to Die For without them.
Sometimes I look back and am amazed by the number of books we have produced This stack is only half of what we have published. Quite an accomplishment, if I do say so myself.
/Users/sritz/Pictures/Photos Library.photoslibrary/resources/proxi...
Books: A Dream to Die For by Susan Z. Ritz; Where a Wave Meets the Shore and Deceptive Cadence (Book 1 in the Virtuosic Spy series); Shadow Girl by Deb Abramson; Water Shaper and Alia Waking by Laura Williams McCaffery; The Shape of the Sky by Shelagh Connor Shapiro; Trigger Warning and Feminist on Fire by Coleen Kearon
When anyone asks what advice I would give a novice writer, I always say, “Join a writing group!” If you’re lucky enough to find one as good as mine, you’ll find yourself taking risks, exploring new territory, and discovering your own depths. For me and for many women, the daily isolation of the writing life can lead to self-doubt, procrastination and getting stuck in a rut. A writing group is the perfect antidote. By sharing our work, our successes and failures, and our fears and hopes, we help each other face that blank page knowing we are not alone.
