By Callie Stoker
In the ever-shifting trends of publishing, buzzwords pop up in the first lines of queries with the hope of grabbing attention and making deals. Words like “whimsy” and “quirky” have been around for ages, trends like “own voices” (which is hopefully more a move in the right direction, not a passing fad), and the ever favorite “stand alone with series potential”. But lately you may have been hearing about upmarket fiction or bookclub fiction. It’s the latest buzzword (maybe), but what does it mean?
Upmarket fiction is the melding of two styles of writing that some say have been at odds for years: the literary vs. the plot driven. Finally we’ve reached a cease-fire by realizing that books with fast pacing and plot-driven mysteries can also include the human experience found in the experiential writing of literary fiction.
Since bookclub fiction and upmarket fiction are somewhat synonymous right now, you can guess that this category immerged first in women’s fiction turned mystery-thriller. “The Girl on a Train” by Paula Hawkins and “Woman at the Window” by A.J. Finn are just a few of this category and they are what publishers are itching to get their hands on. But upmarket isn’t confined to women-led mysteries and I believe we will see this literary-plus-plot category spread through many genres.
This brings me to Addie LaRue.
“The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue” by V.E. Schwab was released in October of last year and stayed high on national best seller lists and bookclub must-reads. It grabbed attention not only for its gorgeous cover representing the main character’s distinct constellation of freckles, but because of its captivating premise: a young girl in 18th century France escapes a life decided for her by unwittingly making a midnight deal with an unseen power. Her wish to be untethered is taken literally and in the first scene we learn that she’s lived an immortal life since that night into present day, but is never remembered by the people with whom she interacts. She leaves no mark in the world. Ultimate freedom? Or an eternal curse? Of course it all changes when she finds a love interest, someone who knew her 300 years earlier, and remembers her.
The concept is wonderful, the setting shifts us back and forth in time as we see what Addie’s unremembered life has been, the plot to find out what happens keeps you turning pages, and if you are any fan of V.E. Schwab (A Darker Shade of Magic or my favorite, Vicious), you know the author has a wonderful way with words.
In my fifteen years as an editor, I’ve heard many of my clients balk at literary writing, believing it to be boring and long-winded, the stuff their AP English teachers made them read and analyze ad nauseam. And I get it, we love a great plot, we pick up every book hoping it will be the one to envelope us in its world, its secrets, and its characters.
But beautiful, expressive writing doesn’t always have to be slow and dull, neither does it need to get in the way of an exciting story. Addie LaRue is a brilliant melding of both.
So if upmarket is your goal, or you just want to up your wordsmithing skills, let’s look at how V. E. Schwab wields adjective and metaphor to create an experience worth visiting again and again, not just for the great plot beats, but also for an enraptured revisit of beautiful language.
Wield both Simile and Metaphor
You’ve heard it before, but adding depth often just means adding description. Using language to shape and mold the thing you are telling about. But description doesn’t have to mean purple prose overkill, so we use comparison to hack a reader’s own experience and add that to the story.
In the book, Addie can’t tell others the truth about herself, but lies come easy as she walks the Earth as an unremembered shadow. This information is important and needs to be clear and succinct—no need for long flowery paragraphs—yet if told too simply, it lacks that upmarket style.
Telling only:
“She will learn in time that she can lie and the truth will always be hard to say.”
Telling plus showing/description:
“She will learn in time that she can lie, and the words will flow like wine, easily poured, easily swallowed. But the truth will always stop at the end of the tongue. Her story silenced for all but herself.” Pg. 63
The telling example is simply too simple and flat, no voice or mood. A writer’s greatest tools are simile and metaphor, comparing one thing to another to create a shortcut in a human brain. A reader already has a concept about something like wine, so the comparison piggybacks on what they already know uses that support the description in the story.
Take note that V.E. Schwab also stays “on brand” for Addie LaRue, and throughout the story chooses comparisons that match Addie’s life in France.
What Do You Want them to Feel?
One of the differences between literary and plot-driven is its central goal. The plot is about the rush to find out the secrets along the way and push toward the end. That’s what sucks us in and keeps us up at 2:00 a.m., turning pages
The literary is about an experience. A human experience, often the smaller and more intimate the better. It uses language to explore the every day and find beauty in it: watching a spider build a web or join in on a personally transcendental (but otherwise uneventful) walk in a quiet forest. It isn’t about what happens, it is about the feeling that small moment produces for the participant.
Join Addie LaRue as she sits in a café, pay attention to how the words make you feel:
“Outside, the white marble sky has cracked, letting through thin bands of blue. The cold has burned off, and Addie finds a café with sidewalk seating, busy enough that the waiter only has time to make a pass of the outside tables every ten minutes or so. She counts the beats like a prisoner marking the pace of guards, [and] orders a coffee.” Pg.126
It isn’t an unpleasant moment, but the use of the word “cracked” instead of “stretched” or “dissipated” is an intentional poke of discomfort. Addie’s comparison of the waiters as prison guards is another invitation to feel as Adie does: she is not relaxed, there is a tension here, her invisible life has become about marking time.
If it’s important to the character, make it important to the reader:
In Addie LaRue, a wooden ring carved by her father in her youth becomes a symbol of her past and the flawed but real life she gave up. V.E. Schwab wants us to feel something when the ring is mentioned, she wants us to see it as a symbol, heavy with regret and loss just as Addie does.
“It is a ring. A small circle carved of ash-gray wood. A familiar band, once loved, now loathsome.”
“Addie leaves her old clothes strewn like a shadow across the dressing room floor. The ring, a scorned child in the corner.” Pg. 21
Again, the word choices surrounding the mention of the ring—the comparison of the ring to a scorned child—create a link to our emotions, giving depth to this object every time it is mentioned.
Try a Little Upmarket Fiction
If you are plot-driven to your core, try taking a page from the literary side of things and use language to sweep your reader up in not only an incredible plot, but an emotional ride. There is incredible value in both that will appease your love of story while inviting you to experience something deep and memorable. And as you turn to your writing, use descriptive tools, interesting comparisons, and emotional links to deepen your stories. You’ll impress a publisher and gain a fan for life.