Exposition: Who Needs it? Storytellers, That’s Who!

Concerning exposition – the bugaboo of all storytellers, especially scriptwriters – someone I know floated this description:  “I would define exposition as anything that the actors* and the audience can reasonably be assumed to already know.  New information to all is not exposition.  Information that the actors should already know is the worst offense.”  (*By “actors,” I’m assuming he meant “characters.”) 

Unfortunately, there’s a lot wrong with this definition.  First, it’s a mistake to lump the “characters” and the audience together.  In most plays, there are many things the characters know that the audience does not.  At the beginning of Hamlet, Hamlet is majorly bummed.  He knows why, but the audience does not (unless of course, the audience is familiar with the play).  Before Shakespeare’s play begins, Hamlet’s much beloved dad dies and mother-dearest quickly remarries Hamlet’s uncle.  Enough to give anyone a migraine, but, the point is, our boy Hamlet knows these things – the backstory - but the audience does not ... that is until those influential events are revealed through exposition. 

Then there is the reverse situation, which is the hallmark of suspense stories: the audience (or reader) knows something the main character doesn’t.  That causes us to worry that the protagonist will fall victim to the apple we know to be poisoned, the armed murderer we know lurks just beyond the squeaky door, etc. 

“New information to all is not exposition,” the definition continues.  Au contraire: good exposition is exactly that – new information, information new to the audience.  Here’s my definition of exposition in plays:  exposition is the strategic revelation of information (backstory), usually through dialogue, that the audience needs to know to understand what's going on.  Exposition is an essential component of storytelling.  Meaning it’s far from a bad thing in and of itself; how the revelations are handled is the issue.  The challenge is to trot out the information when it's relevant – "information as ammunition" – and not when the writer feels it's convenient.  The best exposition is that which comes out when a character needs to bring out the information to achieve a purpose (at the same time providing information that pays off later).  Knowing that Hamlet is in an emotionally turbulent state over his late father and “o’erhasty” mother easily explains why he’s willing embark on a journey of revenge that ends in a body count rivaling any action-adventure film. 

Lastly, “Information the [characters] should already know is the worst offense.”  Here our friend is onto something.  When characters in a story stand around telling each other information they both already know just to bring the audience up to speed, you’ve got clunky exposition.  Think of it this way.  It’s probably very rare that a person and his/her significant other sit around recalling mundane events that they both experienced together and, thus, both already know.  However, when one is trying to best the other – as in an argument – past events come rolling out as evidence for one side or the other.  In other words, the information comes out in an organic and motivated way.  And that’s the difference between good, purposeful exposition and exposition that’s randomly placed and draws yawns.