“You’ll love this book. As I read it, I thought of you.”

Have you ever heard this? Or perhaps you’ve said it to someone.

Whomever is on the receiving end of such a statement can’t help but wonder, What about the book made her think of me? At the very least, curiosity is piqued.

Am I right? Because, let’s be honest. The beauty of reading fiction is getting lost in story. We savor finding ourselves somewhere in the narrative.

But in seeing ourselves, we naturally think of others as well. After all, we don’t live on deserted islands, nor in a vacuum. Whether you’re introverted, spending lots of time alone, or an extrovert who avoids solitude at every turn, in one way or another, we’re relational.

Maybe Fitzwilliam Darcy reminds you of your college freshman crush. Or Hazel Grace Lancaster’s struggles make you think of a neighbor girl who once battled a life-threatening illness. Perhaps you relate to Allie Nelson, torn between two loves—one of whom your parents approve while the other they abhor, like they hate Noah Calhoun.

Am I alone in admitting, when I read, I picture myself as well as others, whether past or present? Then, we weave ourselves or them into the narrative until, once the book has been put down or finished, we’re one with the story or we know to whom to recommend the book.

Honestly, isn’t this reason enough to sometimes stall when nearing the end of a story? We simply don’t want that part of us or someone we know to reach The End.

Several years ago, a friend recommended a book. This person simply texted, Have you ever read Gilead by Marilynn Robinson? I hadn’t, to which, she replied, I really think you’d love it.

That was enough. I knew this person, and I trusted she knew me enough to say this with good intent. My curiosity got the best of me, and I soon read what I considered one of the most beautiful books. As I turned each page, invested in the characters and envisioning the setting aptly laid out with vivid description, I felt known by the person who recommended it. Yes, I was seen.

In the 1993 movie Shadowlands—C.S. Lewis’ and his wife Joy Davidson’s love story, screenplay written by William Nicholason—Lewis meets someone from his past. This young man was once Lewis’s struggling student, even stealing books without excuse or apology. “At least I read them, which is more than most. I read at night, sometimes all night. I can’t turn the page fast enough. My hands are shaking, and I wonder, Does he feel the way I feel? Does he know what I know…” (paraphrase)?

Several years pass. Lewis meets up with his former student again, this time on a train. In this happenchance encounter, as the two visit over drinks, Lewis discovers the young man is a school teacher. After a moment’s pause, Lewis ponders aloud, “We read to know we’re not alone….”

That line struck me. It’s true, isn’t it? Much love for story is to know we aren’t alone—that we’re somehow known, either by one who recommends a book or by the author who writes it. And sometimes, seemingly by both.

Authors therefore have the duty of crafting compelling narratives with which readers will connect, either seeing themselves in the story or envisioning others as they read. And while there may be more examples of how this is done, two powerful “connections” are effective.

Physical Connections in Character and Setting

No matter the genre, vivid description is crucial to readers’ enjoyment of a story, but there’s a balance. Too many details belabor, drawing away from rather than toward one’s immersion in story. Too little, however, leaves readers desiring more.

As a writer, I aim to include ample physical characteristics, enough to give readers a good picture while still allowing room for imagination and personal experience. Hair and eye color as well as skin tone are good starting places—that which can best be introduced in dialogue. “That summer sun really fished out your freckles, and look at those golden highlights in your auburn hair.”

Personally, I also envision nostalgic places from my past as I pen stories. Take, for example, the detailed description of an otherwise mundane setting—I scanned the tidy, cool space of their garage. Stepping inside, I inhaled, breathing in that familiar smell—a little bit automotive oil with some paint thinner mixed in, plus a hint of old, weary things” (Gideon’s Book, p. 216). This setting is straight off a page from my life, taking me back to my grandparents’ garage in rural Ohio.

Indeed, examples of such connections are as endless as the potential characters and settings they describe.

Emotional / Mental Connections 

With what is the protagonist struggling? Has her husband asked for a divorce? Perhaps, needing a break from constant reminders of his presence, she finds herself back in her hometown only to discover unhealed wounds from her past lurking at every corner.

Or maybe an antagonist reminds a reader of a passive-aggressive parent, teacher, or employer, one scheming behind the scenes to create obstacles for the protagonist, challenges he or she must overcome.

As readers, we nod our heads and think, I’ve felt that way. I’ve experienced that. I’ve battled similarly.Such connections often bring readers back for a second experience simply for the familiarity—to know, I’m not alone.

Again, the author’s job is to create just enough “connection,” keeping readers engaged—whether emotionally or mentally, relating to characters because of physical features and / or the settings in which they find themselves. Not too much as to insult or overwhelm the reader but that perfect balance, inviting him or her to step into the story, then journey to the end with a cohesive sense of oneness.

After all, though every book must come to an end, authors strive to keep readers coming back for more.

What is a book you’ve read, stepping into the story from the start, feeling known and seen?

 

Meet Maureen Miller

Maureen Miller is an award-winning author with stories in more than twenty collaboratives. She contributes to Guideposts’ All God’s Creatures, her local newspaper, and several online devotion sites. Married for thirty-six years to her childhood sweetheart Bill, she enjoys life with their three born-in-their-hearts children and three grand-girls, not to mention a variety of furry beasts.

Visit Maureen’s website or learn more at her BRRC Author Profile page.