June 26, 2023
How to Use Flashbacks: The Role of the Past in Writing Fiction
Humans are temporal beings: We live in the present (good luck defining that), but we also have a vastly complex understanding of the past. Moreover, we can anticipate future events, even those, as Schopenhauer put it, in times far ahead of our own. Inevitably then, when it comes to writing fiction, learning how to use flashbacks and understanding the role of the past is an integral element.
Narratives come in all forms and shapes, and the more experimental a narrative is, the less likely it will follow commonly found patterns. Nonetheless, the overwhelming majority of novels feature some sort of characters, some sort of narrative antagonist, and display some sort of structure.
They also display some sort of narrative progression. And, unless for some rather simplistic, point-A-to-point-B stories that are entirely linear, some sort of temporal back-and-forth is present.
In this post I’ll show you how to use flashbacks skillfully, that is, with a narrative intent. To use flashbacks well is to increase affective impact and narrative meanings, and overall, be in better control of your novel.
Plot Time vs Narrative Time
Before learning how to use flashbacks efficiently, we should examine a thing or two about two separate kinds of time in fiction: Plot time and narrative time.
Plot time is the “actual” time unfolding in the story; the way things move from one event to the next from the perspective of the characters. Unless we’re dealing with science fiction or fantasy where time-traveling is a possibility, plot time always moves forward. One second, then one second.
On the other hand, narrative time is the order in which events are offered to the reader. In a boring linear story, these two times are identical. In most cases, however, they are not. And this is what creates creative space, that is, manipulating this order – and overall, what to offer the reader when – allows the author to create affective meaning.
A Quick Sentence-Level Example
The example in my post on linear narratives shows precisely how this works. Examine these two cases:
Last weekend I went to New York and met a guy named John. Today I saw John walking down the street here, in Boston. We agreed to go fishing next Sunday.
It seems natural and easy to read. It’s also boring. Here’s how you can create an accent of meaning, simply by shuffling the temporal order:
Next Sunday I’ll go fishing with a guy named John. I saw him today walking down the street. I’d met him last weekend, when I’d gone to New York.
Although this is a very simple, short set of sentences, there is an immediate effect for the reader. “What do you mean ‘ a guy named John’, who is he?” “You saw him down the street and now you’re going fishing? I don’t get it.” “Ah, OK, now I see. You’d already met him earlier.”
Of course, this is only a sentence-level example. When it comes to flashbacks, we’re at the narrative level. And in order to use flashbacks efficiently, you should know what is their narrative purpose.
To Use Flashbacks Properly, Understand their Narrative Purpose
Let me be direct about this: Flashbacks are not about narrative exposition – not primarily at least. In other words, the purpose of a flashback shouldn’t be simply to offer the reader information (perhaps information you ought to have offered earlier but which you forgot, because you’re a pantser).
Rather, the purpose of flashbacks is about meaning. A flashback drives the narrative forward by helping us understand a character’s motivation, some character dynamics, or something inherently important about the narrative – for instance, a flashback might introduce tragic irony, it might affirm a certain concept present in the narrative, or reverse a piece of symbolism. The options are endless and depend on your creativity and goals.
Let’s see this with an example
How to Use Flashbacks: an Example
As I often do, I’ll use one of my own novels as an example, because I’m an arrogant bastard it’s easier for me, since I have unique access to the author’s thought process. Most of my books feature flashback segments, some quite heavily, but I’ll pick Illiterary Fiction, as I’ve also used it as an example of foreshadowing, and I like the temporal symmetry involved.
Most of my novels are available as an immediate free download – simply visit the Fiction page on the main site. And remember, you can also just email me and ask for a free, no-strings-attached (e.g. review etc.) digital copy of any of my books.
In Illiterary Fiction, a central concern of the protagonist, Paul, revolves around his estranged wife. The narrative, though taking place in the present day, is interspersed with chapters narrating the recent past, showing the reader the evolution (or rather, devolution) of Paul’s marriage.
But there is something else at play, too.
Multi-role Flashbacks
Besides the basic function of these flashbacks, this second timeline, that is the enrichment of our understanding of Paul’s motivation and desires, there is something hidden, too. The narrative evolution of this second timeline, converging toward a seminal event in Paul’s recent past (which isn’t revealed but in the third part of the novel), helps us redefine and reinterpret some of his present-day actions that we’ve read about.
Without revealing too much for anyone who hasn’t read the novel, this series of flashbacks resolves into a narrative slap in the face, assigning intensely tragic elements to Paul’s predicament.
That’s what you would want a flashback to be, ideally: multi-faceted, multi-role, enhancing our understanding of the story, while at the same time containing possibly destabilizing elements, forcing the reader to “go to work” and reconsider what they thought was given.
Some Practical Considerations
In lieu of a conclusion, I’ll leave you with some practical considerations to keep in mind when you decide on how to use flashbacks in your novel. And we’ll start with this very thing, in a meta- kind of way.
- Are flashbacks applicable in short stories? Perhaps in long short stories or novellas – A Christmas Carol builds its reality on flashbacks. But remember that flashbacks are a narrative-level device. Never say never, but I’m finding it hard to imagine how they would work efficiently in a short story – not to mention flash fiction.
- Just because something is a flashback, situated plot-wise in the past, that doesn’t mean it needs to follow any plot-based “rules” regarding its placement. In simpler words, the only thing that matters is the affective impact. If that is best served by placing the flashback in the last chapter (an extreme example, perhaps, but certainly valid), then go for it.
- Signaling the flashback is an intriguing creative exercise. Many times the presence of a flashback will be obvious – for instance, if the preceding chapter ends with something like “I fell to my knees, burst into tears, and allowed the past to come and drown me with its impossible weight”. On other occasions, you can be very creative and imply it – for instance, with a dreamy register, or other literary devices. And if you’re really creative (and of course your narrative calls for such a thing), the very notion of the excerpt being a flashback or not can be in doubt, with two possible (indeed competing) narrative branches, one assuming a flashback, one not.
Overall, the best advice I could give you about how to use flashbacks in your fiction is not unlike every other of my writing tips: Don’t be afraid to experiment, be creative, follow the art, break the rules. It might not always work (meaning, you’ll have to try and see), but when it works, it’s something special.
4 Comments
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As you said above, things devolve.
Thanks for making me think again about how I use flashbacks and what I expect from using them.
My comment got long winded and opinionated, so I put it properly on my own blog.
You study the flashback per se – I twist it to do my bidding narrowly, and make a list of my rules for myself after I’ve written a bunch of them and find they always end up in the same bin; it then becomes ‘style.’
Your take on flashbacks reminded me of something one of my academic mentors once told me: “You don’t need to follow a theory to do literary analysis. But you need to theorize.”
In other words, as you aptly explain, it’s about finding a pattern or method that works for you and sticking to it.
Consistency gets you and your readers past the awkward beginnings to where each of you just keeps using the words to build your version of the universe in your head. Like a dating app.
I just got horrified at the length of my expounding. I may even have blogged about flashbacks years ago (I didn’t go search). I think if I looked at the very beginnings of the two books so far, I would find the somewhat free-form a little daunting. I beg for indulgence of a little longer than a page or two to see that it resolves into a self-consistent style. Complex and longer fiction will have a complex and longer beginning, and readers in general are not used to that any more.
As a simple example, a reader said she wasn’t happy that the first chapter left the point of view of the first character presented just as she was getting used to the character, and that she was used to getting a whole chapter of one character before switching to another. Whereas I planned to tell the story by alternating scenes – and needed to ensure that by the end of Chapter 1 the reader had spent time with each of the three main characters. Trickier – but then maintained.
One of the most interesting and impressive cases of flashback I have ever read was the novella The Lover by Marguerite Duras. The whole novel is one big flashback, with a few references to the present of the narration, with Duras already older, recalling the story. The returns to the present of the narration are so sparse as to be almost forgettable. I find this example doubly impressive, as this strategy by Duras removes the flashback from common use as a backstory of the protagonist narrator.