Recently, a friend read my anthology In The Lamplight and commented that he noticed that there were no info dumps. This took me by surprise because it was not something I had set out to do on purpose. But as I began to investigate, I realized what he meant.
The method I use for disseminating information so that it does not appear in a dump—or, worse, an info dumpster fire—is similar to the method used in the movie Coco. I will speak about that later.
Escaping the dreaded info dump comes down to placing exposition.
Escaping Puddlehood
Once upon a time, I had to move a large chuck of exposition. It was stuck in the middle of a rather active scene and more than one reader had complained it was awkward and dull.
I realized it had to be moved. But where?
Ideally, I wanted it in a place where it would increase the readers interest, rather than bore them. But how to find such a place? I thought it was fascinating, but readers thought it was in the middle of an otherwise tense scene and had to go. So it needed a new home. Yet, how could I tell when readers would agree with me, and when they would groan and pull out their hair?
In the end, I divided it into four pieces, putting each part into a place where it added to the scene rather than subtracting from it.
I wish I could tell you I did it gracefully.
But I can’t. I dissolved into an emotional puddle.
When I recovered from puddlehood and buckled down to moving the scene, I had an insight that will, God willing, help me avoid a puddle-related fate in the future. It was about how to evaluate a passage to decide if a given piece of exposition would increase or decrease the reader’s interest. This insight revolved around the Japanese girls video game: Long Live the Queen.
Long Live Exposition
For those who have never played the game, Long Live the Queen is a text-based adventure. One plays an adorably cute fourteen-year-old princess named Elodie who must live to her 15th year in order to be crowned Queen.
Each turn of the game counts as one week of Elodie’s life. Each week, the player chooses the classes to attend in order to gain skills Elodie needs to survive. There are 39 skills to choose from, varying from Royal Deportment to Divination to Military Strategy to Falconry to Magic. Each skill can be used to negotiate through the various events you must face.
It is impossible to learn all the skills. The key to reaching the coronation is to pick the correct skills needed to pass the challenges the player chooses to undertake.
If you lack the correct skill when a challenge check comes, you die.
Since learning skills is the difference between life and death, it is essential to learn as many as you can as quickly as possible. Whether or not you learn a given skill slowly or quickly depends upon your character’s mood.
That’s right—mood is the key to succeeding at this game!
There are eight moods (Angry, Afraid, Cheerful, Depressed, etc.) The activities you do in your free time—such as going to court or sneaking out of the castle—raise or lower these moods.
If you pick the wrong activity, you can end up producing the wrong mood. This means you suddenly have a negative to how quickly you can learn the skill you need to pass the next challenge.
Between the activity phase and the classes phase, comes the story. During these bits of text exposition, events happen. Friends visit. Commoners bring petitions. Nobles challenge you to a duel. Your country is invaded!
These events also raise or lower your moods. Sometimes, they include skill checks that you pass or fail depending on the skills you have gained. Occasionally, there are choices to make: Do you raise taxes? Lower them? Or keep them the same? Do you execute your magic-using aunt? Or let her live?
By now, you are wondering: What in the name of the All-Mighty does this have to do with writing?
Here is the insight:
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