Foreshadowing Doom

Little do you know that by the bottom of this page your view of foreshadowing will be forever changed.

Alright, maybe you already know more than enough, in which case you can skip to the next blog on your list. I, however, must forge on.

Foreshadowing is a dramatic device that causes the reader to anticipate upcoming events in the narrative. It’s like prefacing a joke with, “This is really funny!” On the other hand, if something is that important to the plot, I suppose it’s a good idea to point it out. If you really don’t want your readers to miss it, by all means foreshadow.

The main problem with foreshadowing is that the most useful phrases have become clichés, as in my opening sentence. “Little did she know…” is as much of a tired cliché as “It was a dark and stormy night.” Several plot devices are available to slip past that pitfall. The critical note can be expressed differently: “As Frank composed the camera shot, Death lurked unexposed in the shadows.” It’s all there—the impending doom, our hero’s oblivion—but none of that gets into trite language.

Atmospherics can be useful, if subtle foreshadowing devices. The symbolism of a gathering storm is a common example, but strange smells can anticipate decomposing corpse, an imminent arson, or even death lurking behind cloying perfume. Sounds like a ticking clock no longer work, everything is digital, but quiet breathing, a shuffling foot or even a come hither look can anticipate further doings. Consider this: “The tall, lithe blonde captured every eye as she slithered to her table. Frank took note without a glance or pause in his tale.” We know without being told that he’s going to track her down later.

Another practical approach that takes up a few more pages is fateful preparation. In my forthcoming book, Grand Designs, Frank Healy takes track training from a race car driver. He learns how to push his Porsche to the limit. Many chapters later, he is caught in a high speed chase with his nemesis driving a much more powerful car. One chapter foreshadows the other, preparing the hero with the skills he’ll need to survive. All the while, he remains oblivious.

The last point is important in a first person narrative. The reader can only know what the narrator knows, so if he (or she) is to be surprised by a plot twist, so must the reader.

Foreshadowing is not entirely necessary. Let the reader be surprised! My only exception to that cavalier attitude is in mysteries, where the story is often a puzzle. If the solution to the puzzle is a piece lurking unrevealed in the author’s pocket which only comes out in the final chapter, readers will feel cheated and may not come back for the sequel.

You can only guess if they will.