Subtext is literally the text below the surface: not seen, but sensed. In analytical terms, subtext corresponds approximately with the set of conclusions we draw from the facts presented. Just as any two people may draw different conclusions from the same set of facts, every reader of the same plot may perceive their own, unique, subtext.

MEMORIES

The mental processes involved in the creation of subtext are principally concerned with the reader's instinctive efforts to create fully fledged, "three dimensional" images from tightly compressed information such as words. The words and phrases trigger memories in our minds, throwing up sights, sounds, smells and other sensations in the virtual reality of the imagination.

For all their richness of meaning, words can never convey the full picture, so it is inevitable that there will be gaps. The picture that arises in our mind's eye may be imagined as a filigree of meanings taken directly from the text, through whose holes we see the background consisting of our memories, which form the subtext.

The subjective nature of subtext obviously means that the writer has limited control over it, but this is not at all to say that the writer has no control. Consider again the camera metaphor (adopted in our previous exploration of setting plot boundaries), which also provides some inspirational imagery for thinking about subtext.

EXCLUDED EVENTS

As the camera's field of view narrows, elements of plot vanish from the viewfinder, though not necessarily from the action. A photograph of an infant smiling broadly at someone or something above the photographer's head raises questions of what that someone or something is and how she, he or it relates to the child. We might guess that it is the child's mother, but equally it might be a clown or a favourite plaything.

Just as there is subtext in terms of the elements of plot beyond the edges of the picture, there is also subtext to be seen by imagining our way inside and behind the images actually shown in the picture.

The mind of the infant in the photograph is inscrutable, but we may find ourselves trying to look inside it by mapping our memories of subtle facial expressions, our memories of other people whom we imagine to resemble the infant in some way and our experience of the world around us. That smile might be one of recognition, but it might be a symptom of some mental dysfunction, or it might just be wind.

Subtext, then, is the sum of the parts of the plot that are never explicitly stated, but are nevertheless crucial to the reader's/listener's interpretation, understanding and, ultimately, enjoyment, of the plot.

CONTROLLING SUBTEXT

Accordingly, writers ignore the issue of subtext at their peril. Readers are unlikely to keep reading unless they have a mystery to solve. On one level, a well constructed plot provides the mystery and the solution. But subtext, by directing the attention towards something entirely outside the plot, creates an additional dimension of mystery that is far more intriguing: the mystery is never fully solved; the reader is left puzzling over it.

The key question for the writer seeking to develop sub-text is "How do I get across the idea that ... without actually saying it?"

In the context of plot development, a useful starting point may be to focus one's attention on a critical, even dominant event that is set outside the action, but has a major bearing upon the action.

Like the smiling infant in the photograph, all the characters of the story are aware of the event, but they never speak directly about it: only the writer knows the secret of the subtext. In fact the writer cannot betray the secret, or else it ceases to be subtext and becomes part of the story.

The truly inspirational secret is a multi-faceted one that throws piercing light on every character and event in the plot without ever emerging from its inscrutable veil.