How to Write So that the Reader Believes You

Sometimes you read a book or a story and believe the author. It’s written so clearly, it touches your soul, you understand—it really happened that way, and the characters are so real before your eyes. Why does this work for some authors and not for others? You might say: I need to write in the realism genre, maybe then everything I describe will feel real? No, this is far from a sure thing. A work of modern realism can be completely unrealistic. And at the same time, a fantasy novel can create a sense of genuine reality, and the reader believes the author. Let’s first understand how realism differs from realisticity and why they don’t always coincide.

Realism and Realisticity

Realism is a movement in art, including literature. It can be said to be a movement in which the author strives for the most complete and adequate reflection of reality, as they understand it. The author’s perception and understanding play a key role here, and this often doesn’t align with the reader’s understanding, or even with reality itself.

Because of this subjective perception, realism as a literary movement can take many forms: contemporary realism, psychological realism, historical realism, and even magical realism. In short, realism in literature is conveyed through the lens of the author’s perception. The reader, however, may not understand it or trust the author, and therefore reject their work. This is why modern teenagers struggle so much with classical literature; it doesn’t resonate with their reality, they don’t understood it, and therefore reject it. Not all classics are treated this way, of course, and not by everyone, since we understand modern reality differently. But why Gerasim drowned Mu-mu, though he eventually left the lady anyway, is something even adults don’t understand, in my opinion.

Realisticity is a quality of the “art object” itself, a work of art’s correspondence to the truth of life—that is, the believability of the events, characters, and their actions. Realisticity, as a quality of a work, is independent of its genre. Both science fiction and fantasy literature can be realistic if what unfolds in the book is believable. This applies not to specific facts, but to the logic and psychology of the events and characters’ actions. At the same time, a work of realism may lack this very believability, or even lose it in places.

For example, a common situation in modern romance novels: a brazen, rude, unprincipled, rich scoundrel falls in love with the heroine and immediately transforms into a white, fluffy bunny. This doesn’t happen in real life. Therefore, although the work is considered realistic, its descriptions don’t inspire confidence. Granted, such transformations do happen in real life, but in order for them to happen, the rich guy must have been severely battered by circumstances. Beautiful eyes alone are not enough.

Here’s another example, this time from Tolkien’s work. Despite being a fantasy, the characters’ behavior and imagery are quite realistic. Take Sam, for example. He’s a surprisingly realistic character with human qualities. And he’s not even human. Other non-human characters in the book are quite realistic, too.

For the reader to believe the author of a literary text and be imbued with their ideas, the work must be realistic. There are several other points to consider.

Terms of Reader Trust

Why does realisticity inspire trust and interest? Because the reader can always try on the protagonist’s “suit” and the circumstances of his or her life, albeit with a modern twist. And by trying on the character, they themselves can walk in his or her shoes, empathize with his or her problems, and connect with them and the world the author describes. That’s why it can be so difficult for us to part with beloved characters, as if they were close friends. After all, we’ve given them a piece of our soul.

So, the first condition of trust:  the hero must be similar to the reader. We’re not talking about a complete match, but there must be some common ground, overlapping points, and shared psychological problems. That’s why teenagers enjoy reading about teenagers, and schoolchildren and students enjoy reading about the problems of young people in school. A female heroine in love is psychologically closer to female readers than to male ones. In short, the author must be well-versed in the challenges and aspirations of their audience.

Sure, you can write for yourself, but a book will be successful largely if the author addresses issues common to a wide range of people, and even better if they themselves belong to the target audience. And it doesn’t matter whether they’re writing about a virtual reality traveler, a vampire, or a cyborg,—the important thing is that the characters’ thoughts and feelings are relatable to ordinary people. That’s why we find it so hard to believe in a 500-year-old virgin vampire and his pure youthful love.

The second condition: the author must believe in what they write. And again, this isn’t about fantasy elements or mysticism, but about human relationships and emotions. Love and hate, the joy of reunion and the thirst for revenge, grief over the loss of a loved one and the desire for power—all these feelings can exist in any reality, and in any race of intelligent beings, no matter how fantastical. The more the author believes in what they write, the more the readers will believe it.

The third condition: Readers trust the author who allows them to become their co-author. Not in the sense of writing fanfiction, but in the sense of creative participation. Giving the reader the opportunity to fantasize, to speculate, to add their own touches to the character, or to imagine events the author left “off-screen.” It’s difficult, but it works very well to build interest. That’s why the detective genre, where readers have the opportunity to form their own theories, is always popular. But no one is stopping you from adding a detective element to a work of another genre.

And the fourth condition, which I think has already become a cliché. For a work to be realistic, it’s important not to tell the hero’s story, but to show his life. Everyone seems to know this rule, but, alas, it’s much easier to declare than to explain and understand. I tried to do this several times, but I wasn’t satisfied with my own explanations. You intuitively understand how it works, but verbalizing it just doesn’t work. I’ll come back to this problem some other time.

Marina Golubeva,
Notes of a Literary Editor Blog
(translated from Russian
by Bogdan Michka)