triptych

While this isn’t my normal type of blog post (she says after only writing TWO others), I hope it’s interesting enough for you to stick with me through the breakdown of this month’s ‘it’s tiny fiction’ (if you’re interested in reading before you dive into this essay, click here!). 

If you aren’t familiar with the word, a triptych is a work of art, usually divided into three sections but displayed together. Three pieces, whole in their own regard, creating a full picture once presented alongside one another. I liked the idea of exploring this through an ‘it’s tiny fiction’ post because it helps narrow in on two main things: how no narrator is truly a reliable source, how perspective and emotion influence narrative.

I sat on this idea for weeks, Kate and Gretta’s POV’s completed while I debated scrapping it and using a more intense, dynamic idea to work with. This whole concept could be more enjoyable and understandable for the reader if this was a high-tension scene where a risk was presented. However, I found myself truly drawn to the challenge of navigating this triptych through a moment of pure domesticity.

On the surface we are met with someone offering care during a moment of complaint from their partner but, beneath it all, there are two irrevocable truths simmering in Gretta’s soup pot. 

I wanted to offer a blog post that explained a few of my thoughts while working through this exercise. Keep in mind that the ‘it’s tiny fiction’ works are always first draft posts, something that matters when looking at the humanity that breathes between these particular characters. 

Unreliability of Narration  

When Asha Arlington finally makes her way into the world, you’ll understand my fascination with this aspect of storytelling. Until then, you’ll have to deal with me trying to dissect said fascination for you in a succinct way. 

There never will be a character, ever, who tells us a straight story. It is our job to remain active, to question just how much of the truth we’re being shown. As I’ll talk about more below, there’s a fine line that character’s toe—whether an author intends for them to or not—where truth and omission become accomplices. It isn’t that we as readers are being lied to, it’s simply a matter of who, what, why, where, and when. Who is relaying this information (understanding the narrator is key to knowing the motive behind the last four questions)? What are they saying (objectively and indirectly)? Why are they saying it? Where are they saying it (in text and in setting)? When are they choosing to say this (what else is going on around them? how influenced are they by emotions—their own as well as others?)?

Perspective

One of my favorite details in the piece is that, depending on who you’re hearing the story from, the punctuation, and stress of words will change. It was important to me that all three scenes were rooted in sensory details, opening with the ladle, mentioning the merlot, and ending around the hiss of  the vegetables in the soup pot. These facts don’t change between points of view but they are perceived differently. Kate’s sigh, for example, is interpreted by Gretta as heavy and loaded while Kate tells us that it was deep and unsteady. Both of these narratives are tainted by how the individual character is feeling in the moment.

Gretta’s actions and thoughts are based in reverence and care.

Kate’s actions and thoughts are based on worry and instability.

If it weren’t for the shift into third person, we wouldn’t know that Gretta hears it as an almost negative release because of her jealousy around Asha and Kate’s relationship. We wouldn’t know that Kate thought it was unsteady because she knew the instability her boss caused, even when she refused to acknowledge it for the sake of her own well-being. 

Third POV

Something I’ve found myself playing with in my work is the complacency and compliance of the consumer. I think we attach to characters (so much so that when they aren’t perfect or likable, it throws us through a loop, sometimes ruining a reader’s experience) in a way that proves we have the capability as a collective to allow these people to be real, raw, and messy. This, of course means that we have to open ourselves up to being lied to by the books we choose. We deserve to do the work of understanding these characters and their stories and, by adjusting the lens in this section, we were able to see just how delicately Gretta’s dancing around her jealousy, masking it with care. We see how Kate’s Asha-influenced spiral isn’t simply something that weighs on her, but how it has leached into her relationship and home life, and how her partner interacts with her because of it. 

Kate and Gretta didn’t lie to us once in their sections but, as the human-like characters they are, they chose to omit the truths that didn’t serve the story they wanted to tell. 

If we’re only offered one perspective in a book, third person omniscient is the closest we will get to a truthful narration but, even then, our narrator exists as a character in their own regard. Third person POV doesn’t limit us to a sanitized version of events—it just offers a fuller version of what a single, or even dual POV would offer us in first person narrative. This is where the intentionality (or lack thereof) from authors comes into play. When we sit down to write, no matter the point of view, we have to find the voice of the piece—the soul of the story and who’s giving it to us. This voice will always be tainted because we as humans are so beautifully flawed. Our own biases leach into what we paint on pages, filling the gaps between what the characters tell us themselves. 

This was such a fun exercise and I’d love to hear your thoughts on narration or your own writing process! People are so fun to explore through narration and it felt like a relief to write about Kate and Gretta outside of Asha’s story (well, kind of). These characters mean so much to me and I’ll take any opportunity to explore who they are at the root. Thank you for letting me share them with you :) 

Until next time, 

Kaye