I wrote about how Shakespeare can teach modern writers a thing or two, saying that, at the very least, we can learn three things from Shax: embracing the language, understanding the interior, and having a consistent variety. This essay is focusing on the second concept, the interior mind, conceits, and expressions of a human being. I'm calling this effect interiority.
The idea of Hamlet's, that one ought to "suit the action to the word, the word to the action" (3.2), applies to writers, too. Characters need to move about on the page as much as they do on the stage. Gestures, nods, blinks, and tics all help make a character feel more alive and real--but there's always a caveat. As Hamlet also says,
Much of our communication is through body language and vocal inflections, none of which happens on the page without direct explanations from the writer. Shakespeare could rely on his actors to give voice to his lines, to rest assured that they would communicate clearly the story they were telling. Writers have to rely on their audience's intelligence--and, fortunately, that's something that's easy to do. Readers don't have to have every little nuance spelled out for them, but they also can't be watching static images. Finding a middle ground helps pull the character off of the st/page and into the minds of the audience. This is where the character will "feel alive", with an internal world of recognizable, if not perfectly applicable, thoughts and feelings.
It's what makes the inward man visible.
"The Inward Man"
The subtitle of this essay is a quote to Hamlet 2.2, in which the King says of Hamlet, "Sith nor the exterior nor the inward man/ Resembles that it was." It's that idea I wish to explore. While the editors at Arden make a compelling argument that Hamlet's soliloquies in particular weren't originally understood as explorations of an inner feeling (25-32), our modern readings of the play are rife with this concept. And, since this is supposed to be an essay in which a modern writer could learn from Shakespeare, it seems like this is the best angle of instruction.
The interiority of Shakespearean characters is always vocally expressed--a natural concession of the form. Nevertheless, there are ways that we, as an audience, can understand the internal considerations of a character. As novelists, this is usually shown through italics, which indicate the internal monologue. Shakespeare presaged this, using asides to expose the genuine feelings of the speaker. A small example from The Merchant of Venice (4.1) has Shylock inwardly stewing about the betrayal of his daughter by eloping with a Christian. No one but Shylock (and the audience) knows his thoughts, however:
This is the key advice and shows the power of interiority: Motivations can become clear, along with the choices that the character makes. I'm not likely to be one who wants to carve up a person's chest because I dislike him, so I don't resonate with Shylock on that level. But the idea of being reminded of an injury and being short and impatient with others because of it? That makes sense. The general behavior is clearer thanks to the asides.
The interiority of Shakespearean characters is always vocally expressed--a natural concession of the form. Nevertheless, there are ways that we, as an audience, can understand the internal considerations of a character. As novelists, this is usually shown through italics, which indicate the internal monologue. Shakespeare presaged this, using asides to expose the genuine feelings of the speaker. A small example from The Merchant of Venice (4.1) has Shylock inwardly stewing about the betrayal of his daughter by eloping with a Christian. No one but Shylock (and the audience) knows his thoughts, however:
[Aside] These be the Christian husbands. I have a daughter;At the dash is where Shylock's inward ruminations cut free and he speaks the last line to the other actors on the stage. We can see the reason for his impatience: The gathered Christians have done something to remind him of a painful wound, one so profound that he utters what to Christians would be a blasphemy. The interiority of Shylock is exposed and his actions gain clarity and motivation.
Would any of the stock of Barrabas
Had been her husband rather than a Christian!--
We trifle time: I pray thee, pursue sentence.
This is the key advice and shows the power of interiority: Motivations can become clear, along with the choices that the character makes. I'm not likely to be one who wants to carve up a person's chest because I dislike him, so I don't resonate with Shylock on that level. But the idea of being reminded of an injury and being short and impatient with others because of it? That makes sense. The general behavior is clearer thanks to the asides.
Sole Speaker
The idea of a soliloquy is that one speaks whilst alone. Elizabethan and Jacobean drama rested on this ability, and Shakespeare manages to "unpack [one's] heart with words" (Hamlet 2.2) by utilizing the soliloquy. Modern day writers have other tools at their disposal: I already mentioned the italics as being one, but diaries, first-person narratives, and epistolary motifs all help to bridge that gap that Shakespeare crossed with monologues. It's important to remember that learning from Shakespeare doesn't mean writing like him. Aside from the fact that no one could, it isn't the iambic pentameter or blank verse that made Shakespeare so powerful. It's how he used his tools to best effect.
One of the traps that novelists fall into is the soliloquy on the page, a malady called "navel-gazing", as it invokes the idea of the character contemplating deeply whatever it is that troubles her while doing nothing else. Some Romantic novels (like Les Miserables) will spend pages deep in the thoughts of the character, rolling the ideas around in their mental hands like well-worn stones. Depending on the skill of the writer, these can be tedious or intriguing, but they're always trying the same thing: To leaven the interior and get it to rise to the exterior.
Shakespeare has some speeches in his oeuvre, to be sure. People will wander, verbally, for lines before getting to a point--and sometimes not even then. But the best monologues, the best interiority, is always helping us to understand the story better. Think of the fantastic ruminations of Richard II from his play. At the end (5.5), imprisoned and usurped, Richard considers which is better: to be a king, or a beggar.
...Sometimes am I king;These musings are necessary to understand how broken Richard has become, of showing the consequences of the actions of others throughout the play. Richard's speech--which goes on for a good while--furthers his character while remaining tightly connected to the play's primary plot. This is a crucial piece to making interiority work. It demonstrates the way the "inward man" is affected by what is happening throughout the story.
Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am: then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king;
Then am I king'd again: and by and by
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing...
Move
Shakespeare often folded his stage directions into what characters said. These give the lines a sense of movement and reality, that the words are mirroring what the actor is doing and the two are together, rather than separate entities. Novelists can do a similar thing, particularly when it comes to plumbing the depths of interiority. Brandon Sanderson does this well in his massive tome, The Way of Kings. In one part, a primary character, Dalinar, needs to do some heavy thinking. Rather than having him simply stare and think, he gets to work carving out a latrine. The action of this royal man doing something so debased causes ripple effects throughout those who observed him, we as readers are given something to imagine aside from the man's thoughts, and his deeper self emerges.The idea of Hamlet's, that one ought to "suit the action to the word, the word to the action" (3.2), applies to writers, too. Characters need to move about on the page as much as they do on the stage. Gestures, nods, blinks, and tics all help make a character feel more alive and real--but there's always a caveat. As Hamlet also says,
Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness...Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor...His advice is to a player, but I think to a writer. Not every gesture must be described, not every quote must be exclaimed upon. I think this also goes a long way to encouraging novelists to avoid said bookisms, as it acts like a reminder that describing how dialogue ought to be read ("whispered", "rejoined", "giggled", "groused') can become tedious and over-done. As Hamlet points out, "let your own discretion be your tutor".
Much of our communication is through body language and vocal inflections, none of which happens on the page without direct explanations from the writer. Shakespeare could rely on his actors to give voice to his lines, to rest assured that they would communicate clearly the story they were telling. Writers have to rely on their audience's intelligence--and, fortunately, that's something that's easy to do. Readers don't have to have every little nuance spelled out for them, but they also can't be watching static images. Finding a middle ground helps pull the character off of the st/page and into the minds of the audience. This is where the character will "feel alive", with an internal world of recognizable, if not perfectly applicable, thoughts and feelings.
It's what makes the inward man visible.