Don’t enjoy
listening to it? That’s fine. It’s an acquired taste—like blue cheese or the
musty Indian spice Asafoetida. And yet regardless of your genre, goals, or
commitment to gravitas, a taste of operatic idiosyncrasy might zestfully season
your fiction. And you needn’t endure a single high-pitched note to apply these possibilities.
~ Passion.
Not just with a capital “P.” Rather, an
entire word that’s capitalized in boldface. Consider Donizetti’s Roberto Devereux. The Queen loves Essex (Devereux), who’s madly in love
with his dearest friend’s wife. It can’t end well. Spoiler: it doesn’t. And
this has to do with contemporary fiction because…
…the higher the stakes, then the better. Build
Concept. Corner your characters. Want
your audience to feel passion? Escalate the tension. Escalate it even more.
~ Motif.
Many of the loveliest operas revisit musical
themes. But exploring themes radically differs from merely repeating them. This
concept functions the way a poet plays off the six central worlds that build
the sestina form: each encounter differs at least slightly. Same with the
scarlet letter in Hawthorne’s novel: always similar, never identical. That familiar
yet new variation amplifies tension, resonance, and complexity. Chillingworth, Pearl, Dimmesdale, and Hester
all view that letter differently—and thus readers do, as well. This is relevant
to you because…
…the best fiction has texture. Layers of
meaning emerge from words and symbols echoing off each other. And recurrent
variations let the audience intimately connect your world with their own—the way
years of varied encounters cement a friendship.
~ Climax.
People who adore opera rarely notice how long
it takes the protagonist to die, while that’s the first thing people who
dislike opera mock. Why must it take so long? Because a lot has gone into this
ending. Why rush questions like who lives, rules the kingdom, gets revenge, and
wins true love (usually no one). This relates to contemporary fiction because…
…big stories need big resolution. Consider
proportion. If your scenario is low key, as many good ones are, then hurry up.
But if you’ve posed huge dramatic questions, give your audience enough time to savor,
wind down, exhale.
~ Theme.
It’s likely a good thing that we no longer
fuss much about honor. But the ageless questions of morality, betrayal, hope,
irony, and sacrifice matter to you because you’re a contemporary novelist. Those
questions will be the crux of story—forever.
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