Blog 63: It’s a Matter of Time

Twice a year, every Spring and Autumn I have the same conversation and confusion. It begins with: do the clocks go back or forward? If you know the old rhyme spring forward, fall back, then you will realise the clocks go forward an hour in springtime and an hour back in autumn. However, it doesn’t end there. That would be far too easy! Because then comes the further discussion, and of course, disagreement about whether we have an extra hour, and does this mean it will be lighter or darker in the morning and/or the evening?

This year has been no different. Again, I have gone over the same ground with my husband. Unconvinced by my explanation, which resulted in me burying my head in my hands, my hubby resorted to asking Google if it would be lighter in the mornings, as he believed it would be. Google let him down badly and instead agreed with me. In the end I drew a chart of the sun getting bigger as the hours went by. It showed it would be darker in the morning because we were getting up an hour earlier. As is the tradition, I confused myself while trying to explain it. I was sure, then I wasn’t, then went back to what I said earlier. But during my confusion, my husband realised what I was saying, even though I had at this point completely lost the whole thread of my argument. Basically, I was right and he was wrong, which I feel is the main takeaway here.

This topic is confusing enough when it comes to daylight saving time. But what about when you feature time travel in your stories?  Things can get pretty complicated. I know authors that admit completely avoiding it purely to avoid the headache. For instance, you go back in time in your machine. Great so far, right? Then, oh no, you change something: maybe you speak to someone you shouldn’t, move a chair to one side or step on a flower and you have unwittingly created a whole new timeline. Suddenly cars can fly, your sister is now your brother and you like celery. But you’ve always hated celery!

I find the whole Nelson Mandela effect fascinating. There are some things that you are absolutely certain about, while all evidence says you are mistaken. For instance, a few years ago I had a conversation with another mum while we were waiting for our children to come out of school. She told me her son was dyslexic, but when I talked to her about it years later, she denied it. I was so sure about this conversation. I remember being stood in the playground as she told me that her son had struggled all the way through primary school and now was acing everything at high school because of his dyslexia diagnosis.

You can’t help but be intrigued by time travel, not just to be able to experience times gone by or take a gander at what the future holds but also, the idea of being able to change things or avoid situations. In an imperfect world where we have so many regrets, it would be wonderful to pop back and correct them. Much like getting home with a piece of clothing that you realise looks awful, so you return it to the shop and pretend you never bought it in the first place. But how can you successfully write a time travel piece of fiction without bamboozling (I love that word – do you remember the teletext game?) your reader, or more to the point, yourself?

So, let’s have a look at some timey tips to help us steer our way through without causing plot holes or head explosions. Are you ready? Come with me if you want to live. I jest. You will live – unless you actually go back in time and somehow zap yourself out of existence (the grandfather paradox). Anyway, before you disappear altogether, let’s get started: -

1. Consistent rules: you know I’m a sucker for consistency when it comes to writing. You must establish a baseline of how this is all going to work. Is the past changeable? Perhaps you can pop in and out and it doesn’t affect the world you go back to. Most timeline stories, however, have a cause and effect, creating new timelines and a new version of the future, or present, however you want to see it. A decision is made that alters how someone lives their life which has a ripple effect across time (the butterfly effect), creating a separate version: the original and this new one. And in some stories, you can cross into them, finding different versions of the characters within them.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by JK Rowling, is an example of a fixed timeline/predestination, where the characters go back to complete actions they already experienced, thus creating no paradoxes.

To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis, demonstrates no interference/observation, where time prevents itself from being altered, thereby making intentional changes impossible.

The Future of Another Timeline by Annalee Newitz, is the opposite, where travellers attempt to edit history to create a better future which results in modified timelines.

2. Character over mechanics: focus on human emotions, such as grief, love, or regret, rather than just the science of the journey. Perhaps someone is trying to stop a loved one from being killed, fails and keeps returning back in time to correct it, disrupting more every time they go back. When in truth, they need to let themself grieve and focus on the future.

3. Visualise the timeline: use diagrams to map the timelines out so you can be clear on how their actions have altered reality and put that across to your reader.

   
   

4. Get your facts right: if traveling to the past, research slang, fashion, and technology to make the era feel authentic.

   
   

5. Define the Method: is it a machine, a magical portal, or some sort of mental transfer?  Be clear how it works.

   
   

6. Start with emotional conflict: begin with a character who has a strong reason to alter a past event or a compelling curiosity about the future. What is their motivation for time travel?

   
   

7. Avoid excessive exposition: don't let your research overpower the story. Describe the setting through sensory experiences, not history lectures.

   
   

Here are some common approaches to think about: -

• Time Loops: simple to manage; perfect for self-discovery journeys.

• Past/Future Travel: involves changing historical events or visiting the future.

• Themed/Gimmick: for instance, time-traveling through old photographs. 

  
  

With all that said, I am going to add two more common pieces of advice: firstly, read some stories to get inspiration and an idea of how to write yours, and secondly, practice! Get out that keyboard and dive in. The more you explore writing new genres, the better you will get!

So, off you pop, go and have some fun messing up the timeline.

Until next time … or if you are able to time travel, perhaps I will see you last week or last year. You get the idea. Bye for now.