Category: Writing (page 40 of 81)

Rogers’ Rules

Courtesy Wired

Meet John Rogers. You may know him as the writer for projects like Leverage. He’s also a stand-up comic, video gamer, and dissector of storytelling. In playing Fiasco with Wil Wheaton, he’s conveyed three of the best rules for storytelling I’ve heard since I’ve tried to memorize most if not all of the advice distributed by Chuck Wendig. I’m going to run down these three very simple but very potent questions.

Who wants what?

Everybody wants something. I’m not just talking in the metaphysical “what do I want out of live” sort of way. We all have needs and desires in the moment, from a cheese sandwich to a couple of Tylenol to enough money to pay our debts to that attractive person’s phone number. Any one of these can be the beginning of a story, and they’re pretty simple. Needs and wants can be even greater: nuclear launch codes, or a million dollars, or revenge for a wrongful death, or the solution to a murder. When you boil it down, any character you care to name, protagonist or antagonist, good or evil, likeable or despicable, is driven by a singular, overarching desire and a goal to go with it.

Why can’t they have it?

If everybody just got what they wanted, that’d be pretty boring. There would be no story. So something must come between our characters and what they want. Do they want a cheese sandwich? Sorry, the fridge has no cheese. A killer is going to be elusive. An escape route is going to be blocked. There has to be some sort of obstacle between the character and their goal. The obstacle’s job is to create the drama that will fuel the story and heighten the tension between your characters. As interesting as characters can be on their own, they’re all the more compelling because of their struggles.

Why should I give a shit?

The conflict and tension generated by multiple characters struggling towards what they want can be interesting in and of itself, but to be truly good at the craft, you need to make your audience care about more than the overall drama. Personal investment in characters makes their struggles more compelling, their victories more rewarding, their failures more tragic. The guy after the cheese sandwich might not have eaten all day, heartsick over losing a loved one. Do we understand why the would-be terrorist wants the launch codes? Did the murderer kill someone close to our hero, who is now more interested in revenge than justice? Is the gangster trying to escape because he needs to get to his kid, to make sure they’re safe and won’t grow up into a life of crime? Do something to make the characters motivated beyond the basic need or want you’ve established; in other words, make them people.

These are simple rules you can apply to just about any story you want to tell. “X wants Y because Z” may seem like a straightforward, almost formulaic way to establish characters and motivations, but establishing this in your story will lay the foundation for a compelling and memorable experience for the audience. The better fleshed out your characters, their desires, the obstacles that stand against them, and the drive that will push them into, over, or through those obstacles, the better your story will be.

Follow John Rogers on twitter (@jonrog1) and check out his breakdown on the process behind Leverage here Kung Fu Monkey.

Writer Report: One Week

Bard by BlueInkAlchemist, on Flickr

I’ve never really considered myself a salesman. Yet, that is one of the many hats one has to wear when publishing one’s own work. It’s probably part of what deters some folks from taking that step: not only do you have to write the thing, revise it until it’s decent, and get some lovely volunteers to test read and copyedit the work, you have to take care of the marketing, publication, and sales of the book. Nobody’s going to do it for you.

That said, how did the first week of Cold Iron‘s sales go? Pretty decently, I must say.

It’s my first published work ever so I didn’t expect things to be big or brisk in the sales department. But the initial trends seem relatively promising. I’m certain there will be more reviews coming in, and good or bad, I’ll be sure to tweet them. I think the most important thing I can do, other than the occasional reminder that the book’s on sale, is keep writing the next one.

My goal is to have Cold Streets done, if not available for sale, by the end of the year. I have most of it plotted out, though I still need to work out some of the more granular logistics of certain things. I’m expanding the PoV characters to four, one of whom is a direct antagonist, and my hope is that changing up the dynamic in this way will keep things fresh and exciting for my readers.

I have some ideas on how to rewrite Cities of Light (yes, again) to even further divorce it from extant young adult fantasy novels. I’m going to keep jotting down notes and outline points until I get a coherent structure together. It’s pretty much a side project to the novellas, which appear to be more straightforward affairs.

And then there’s the pulp science fiction thing. I’m wondering if there’s a way I can get myself started on that in such a way that it captures that episodic feeling of old movie serials but conveys my interest in good characters and new takes on old themes. I’ll be pondering this over the weekend while working on Cold Streets.

Always be writing, folks. Always be writing.

Spectacles with Smarts

There was a time when I could buy the argument of a fictional work being fun for its own sake. Specatcle that aims to be nothing but spectacle has its place, usually in the skies above parking lots as fireworks explode in the darkness. But in the arenas of storytelling, be it printed or in motion, characters that feel human and storylines that lead to a satisfactory end in paths audiences can follow will slay works based entirely on spectacle every time.

To illustrate my point, let’s compare the films Flash Gordon and Scott Pilgrim Versus The World.

Both are based on printed comic adventures. Both feature arguably normal human beings thrown into abnormal situations. Both films have bright, splashy color pallettes and kickass soundtracks. And both are largely considered cult classics having not performed well at the box office. Of the two of them, I would say that Scott Pilgrim is the superior work by a large margin.

Courtesy DEG

I’ve reviewed both movies, and looking back on my take on Flash Gordon, I can see why I was so favorably disposed towards it. It’s unashamedly fun. Camp for camp’s sake was pretty big in the 80s, as evidenced by this and Rocky Horror Picture Show among others. Rocky Horror survives due to its cult camp appeal and the fact that large groups see it together. Flash Gordon is also better viewed with a group, if only so there are others with whom you can laugh at the production.

Comics and their heroes tend to be silly in one way or another, but embracing that silliness can be a delicate operation. Making the premise of a man wearing the flag of his country or a woman doing acrobatic assaults in impractical outfits work as a plausible, relatable story takes effort and thought. Opting for total abandonment of coherence for the sake of spectacle is much easier. Flash Gordon does the latter. I still think Max vod Sydow’s Ming the Merciless is a delightfully callous villain, the Queen soundtrack can be enjoyed outside of the context of the film, and Brian Blessed turned loose on his fellow actors is fun to watch, but there are major problems a production based on campy set pieces cannot overcome. Characters have no arcs, no growth. The plot shambles aimlessly, forgotten for the sake of the visuals which have not all aged well. It’s a relic of a different age, and the wrinkles do unfortunately show. I still think it’s possible to have fun just sitting back and watching Flash Gordon, but your brain is not engaged while doing so.

Courtesy Universal Pictures

By comparison, Scott Pilgrim balances its sillier elements with good character growth and interaction and a plot that can be followed without difficulty. Scott’s struggle to overcome his own insecurities is enhanced by his battles with Ramona’s evil exes, rather than overwhelmed by those battles. His relationship with Ramona also has some weight to it, despite its supernatural trappings, and there are even realistic relationship with Knives and Kim, to say nothing of the advice and support of Wallace. Rather than laughing at Scott Pilgrim, we laugh with it. While the far-flung moons of Mongo feel distant and alien, and not in a good way, Toronto and the young people in it are relatable and realistic, high-octane psychic kung-fu battles notwithstanding.

Could a better story be made of Flash Gordon? Certainly. If Flash had flaws to overcome, doubts to face, the freedom to learn more about the other characters outside of broad and ill-defined characterstics, he’d be a better hero for us to get behind. Let his relationships with Dale, Zarkov, the princess, the Hawkmen, even Ming develop naturally. I say keep the garish colors and the operatic rock soundtrack, but make this plot and these characters mean something other than a vehicle for the set pieces. It’s the 21st century, after all; there’s no reason we can’t have unique spectacles that also engage us on the basic levels of storytelling.

Courtesy Marvel Studios

Dumb fun will arguably always have its place, be it in mindless shooting games like Painkiller, Space Marine, or Serious Sam, or films that are great fodder for parties with friends, like Flash Gordon, most of the Star Wars films, the Grindhouse movies, or most flicks starring Arnold or Sly. But to ask for something substantial in the story department or some decent characters we can get behind is not a tall order. The Avengers would simply not have worked as well as it does if the admittedly silly superheroes who star in it didn’t have realized characters with complex relationships and understandable motivations. Oh, it would have been fun, certainly… but as it stands, it’s both fun AND engaging. It’s a spectacle that’s also smart.

Don’t ever underestimate your audience. Keep your writing broad and simple at your own peril. The more you engage the reader’s brain, the more you make them think about and relate to your characters, the more they’ll want. It’s not unreasonable for today’s audiences to expect, nay, demand their entertainment be smart as well as entertaining. And we, as entertainers, should be all too happy to oblige.

Writer Report: Have A Plan

Bard by BlueInkAlchemist, on Flickr

So while I continue to come to grips with the pulp science fiction yarn I want to spin, I may have started on a sequel to Cold Iron. On the one hand, it may be a bit presumptuous to already be writing a second story in a series when the first hasn’t been printed yet; on the other hand, Cold Iron ends in such a way that, if it works, people will definitely want to read more, and I know I definitely want to write more about these characters.

I know that writing isn’t always about the fun stuff. There’s hard work ahead. I do have stories I want to tell that may take some elbow grease to communicate properly. And yet, sitting down with a blank document in front of me, words for the sci-fi come in drips and drabs while the urban fantasy just flows out of me. I know it isn’t all good stuff, and there will be edits and cuts in the future, but I still have an easier time with that than I do with other stories.

Maybe I can use this. Reward myself with ‘breaks’ of the urban fantasy after getting myself through a bit of other work. As long as I’m always writing, I’ll get where I’m going eventually. I just have to be patient. I’m not waiting for the muse to strike or anything, but I do have to keep the words flowing in general, even if specific ones haven’t hit their stride yet.

Not sure what else there is to say on the situation at present. I think the cover of Cold Iron is ready. Means big things in very near future. Stay tuned.

Shifting Tone

Courtesy 20th Century Fox

I was bantering with some friends recently about True Blood, and how this season feels different from the previous one. There is a lot more emphasis on vampire political and para-military shenanigans, and less on messy or convoluted love triangles. It’s a shift in tone that, personally, I am 100% behind, and it makes me invested in seeing what happens week to week. It has me thinking about tonal shifts in storytelling in general, when it works, and when it doesn’t. If you plan on writing more than one thing in your lifetime, you may see tones shifting in your own work, by accident or by design.

Movie sequels can see major tonal shifts. Alien was a spookhouse horror in space, while Aliens was action-packed suspense. The shift in tone works, though, because elements remained consistent and the storytelling was solid. You have a strong female protagonist, icky xenomorphs, shifty androids, and corporate douchebaggery. I hear Prometheus contains all of those elements1 but keeping some names the same between tales does not guarantee a solid shift in tone.

Consider The Matrix. It began as a very solid near-future tale of mystery and self-discovery, but the sequels suffer from their shift in tone. Instead of focusing on the characters and meaningful expansions on the world they inhabit, the second and third films let the bulk of their time become dominated by action sequences and terrible philosophy. Whenever they shift between those two elements, there’s an almost audible clunk, like a transmission that’s about to fall out of the bottom of your car. It’s damn close to painful, and it’s evidence of tonal shifts being handled badly.

Good stories aren’t just one thing all the time the entire way through. Your characters should experience a mix of emotions, bringing the audience along for the ride, and that means the tone of the story is going to change from time to time. While they might not always see it coming, the shifts should feel natural, and flow with the story and the unfolding personalities of the characters. Good examples of characters who experience these shifts well include Harry Dresden and Coburn the vampire.

You do have to be careful, though, as jarring shifts can stop your story dead. It can be very hard to balance comedy with tragedy, and messing it up is a death sentence. You can’t have Oskar Schindler suddenly break into a rendition of ‘Singing in the Rain’ in the middle of trying to rescue Jews from concentration camps. If your story’s been consistently light-hearted, interrupting a slapstick routine with the news someone has inoperable colon cancer will go over about as well as a lead balloon. While these things can work, they’re very easy to mishandle and I would advise extreme caution. Your audience is paying for the ride they’re taking with you; if they’ve felt you’ve driven them off the road into a ditch filled with brambles, they’ll be sure to let you know it.

What are some of your favorite, or least favorite, shifts in tone?


1 I still haven’t seen Prometheus yet. I may just have to suck it up and go alone to see it.

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