I was watching Star Wars II and III the other night and feeling quite disgruntled as I usually do when watching these movies. And yet, I cannot look away...
The reason is that because I am a writer, whenever a story irks me, I start taking it apart and figuring out how it could have worked. This may seem like arrogance on my part--who am I, after all, compared to George Lucas?--but writing and storytelling is my trade, and my education included analysis of great books and stories. It's not dissing Shakespeare if you analyze Romeo and Juliet to see how it works and why. Or even why it works for you and why it doesn't.
But I think that though the movies are fairly entertaining, if a few things had changed, Star Wars I, II, and III could have been a classic epic tragedy on a Shakespearean scale. It could even have been translated into a Wagnerian opera akin to the Ring Cycle. I mused briefly on this during my lunch hour on Facebook, and Emilie Storrs, an opera singer, mentioned the potentially Wagnerian aspect of the series. She is quite right.
The thing about classic operatic tragedies, however, is that like classic stage plays, the characters must be bigger than life, and it must be clear that they encapsulate some very noble characteristics as well as some serious tragic flaws. They must have tragic heroes/heroines.
In classic tragedy, the hero of the piece is generally a good person, but has a fatal flaw that propels him to eventual destruction of body, mind, and/or soul.
If you look at Shakespeare's Othello, for example, Othello is basically a good man. He is courageous and has integrity. You know he is because he is admired for those characteristics even amongst people who are not of his own race or country, so much so that he is given a position of great responsibility, which causes the villainous Iago to become envious and plot his destruction. However, Othello's fatal flaw is jealousy, so that it overwhelms his good sense and and propels him to destroy, ultimately, all that he loves, including himself. Yet, Othello is clearly a man in charge, who knows how to command respect until his fatal flaw overcomes him. In the end, you grieve that such a man is destroyed; he was noble and good once, a man of honor, until he let his jealousy get the best of him.
I wish I could say the same of Anakin Skywalker. It's clear to me that his impatience arises out of an extreme need to prove himself, which is the essence of arrogance. That, in turn evolves into Anakin creating a shield of invulnerability around him, a shield made of a need to protect himself from any idea that he may be weak or unable to control his environment. And if, in the end, it means accusing those who love him as being his enemies, so be it.
All along, it's pointed out that he has the talent, but not the discipline or the patience to become, for example, a full member of the Jedi council. He is, in essence, immature and remains so until we see him as Darth Vader in Star Wars IV. He can love, it's true. But it's a childish love, not a fully adult love.
Even as the adult Darth Vader, it's clear he's as impetuous and easily manipulated as a child; he is a slave to the Emperor Palpatine until the very end of Star Wars VI. Darth Vader is clearly powerful, more powerful than Palpatine. Why doesn't he ever strike out on his own? Even become an Emperor himself? He could. He has the natural power.
The immaturity persists. In essence, Anakin never really grows up. His death in the end is the death of a stunted child in a broken man's body.
What would Anakin Skywalker as a true tragic hero look like? What would make a noble and fully-adult Anakin turn against the Jedi?
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Showing posts with label technique. Show all posts
Showing posts with label technique. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Friday, May 18, 2012
Ask Me Anything Friday
Once again, it's Ask Me Anything Friday.
It worked pretty well last week, so I'm continuing. :-)
I'll reply either in the comments section during the week or in another blog post within a week of the question asked (more or less, depending on how many questions I get).
Some topics:
It worked pretty well last week, so I'm continuing. :-)
- Art and craft of writing
- High concept ideas
- Publishing
- Markets
- Writing contests
- Trends - what subgenres are hot--or should be
- How-to items
- Writing life
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Voice
A long time ago, I went to the Tacoma Chapter RWA's Manresa Castle conference, and there I was one of two people who attended the "poetry in prose" workshop given by a local poet. I sincerely pity the people who didn't attend. There, I learned what voice was, and how to identify it, particularly my own. It's such a difficult thing to identify your own voice. I wasn't sure until I attended this workshop, and that's after writing nine novels. This workshop literally changed my writing life. It gave me one huge tool to work with and sparked a lot of realizations about the interaction of voice and story structure. It also gave me a lot more confidence than I had had about my writing, because I found my voice was already there in my books.
I don't think you cultivate your voice so much as discover it, although once you do understand what it is, you can work to make it stronger and more effective. As beginning writers, you naturally copy the voice and style of those authors you like best--that's the learning process. But your voice is made up of all the influences of your life: the books you've read, the part of the country in which you live, the dialect or language you speak and its rhythms, the music you listen to. Think about all the sounds you've grown up with. These things will influence your voice.
Think of the images in your life that speak to you most. These also will influence your voice, because that's the source from which you take your metaphors and similes.
Voice is your natural sense of poetry--your own and others'. This is the reason why you're clumsily told, "don't use adjectives or adverbs." You're rarely told why, and what effect this has on your work. Of course, you can and should use adjectives and adverbs when you write, but not exclusively. If you do, then you've stripped your story of your voice. It's why I've instinctively railed against people trying to eliminate "wandering body parts" sentences entirely--it takes away yet another poetic device (idioms, metaphors, and similes) that aids one's voice.
Voice is also tied to the emotional pitch of your writing. That is, when you are writing a particularly emotional or vivid scene, that's where your voice appears the strongest. It's not something you can or even should maintain in every paragraph of your story, but it's something that rises and falls with the pacing and structure of the story. When your voice ebbs and flows in sync with the structure, it contributes to narrative drive--that is, it's what keeps the reader turning the pages, even if the action is mundane.
Here are two examples of the same idea; one stripped of metaphors, similes, and most of the adverbs and adjectives (and thus, voice), the other as it was written:
"She sat in the drawing room at the pianoforte but did not play any music. She looked out the window at the sky instead. She didn't want to be here, and in fact felt unhappy and trapped. She wished she could go away."
This paragraph is short and to the point, and that's fine. Sometimes you want short and to the point. However, it doesn't have as much emotion as:
"She sat in the drawing room, her hands on the keys of the pianoforte, but did not play. Instead, she looked out of the window at the blue summer sky. The panes formed small rectangles, the sun casting shadows on each edge--it looked like a cage. But then a movement caught her eye: swallows dove toward the house, outlined in each frame of window like quick sketches, then with a quick flick of their wings twisted away from the house and upward into the air. She envied them; she wished she had wings so swift that a mere glance of a wingtip would send her away."
Here, I don't say directly that she feels trapped or that she's unhappy. But all the images combined--not playing music, looking out of windows that look like a cage, swallows flying away, and the repetition of the word "away," and "wing," etc.--give an impression of her emotional state. Note also that I use concrete images--I say "swallows" instead of just "birds." Read both paragraphs aloud, and listen for a rhythm. I think the latter paragraph is a bit more rhythmic.
This is voice. My particular combination of rhythm, concrete images, metaphors, and similes used together to evoke a scene and infuse it with emotion. You, no doubt, do it too.
I don't think you cultivate your voice so much as discover it, although once you do understand what it is, you can work to make it stronger and more effective. As beginning writers, you naturally copy the voice and style of those authors you like best--that's the learning process. But your voice is made up of all the influences of your life: the books you've read, the part of the country in which you live, the dialect or language you speak and its rhythms, the music you listen to. Think about all the sounds you've grown up with. These things will influence your voice.
Think of the images in your life that speak to you most. These also will influence your voice, because that's the source from which you take your metaphors and similes.
Voice is your natural sense of poetry--your own and others'. This is the reason why you're clumsily told, "don't use adjectives or adverbs." You're rarely told why, and what effect this has on your work. Of course, you can and should use adjectives and adverbs when you write, but not exclusively. If you do, then you've stripped your story of your voice. It's why I've instinctively railed against people trying to eliminate "wandering body parts" sentences entirely--it takes away yet another poetic device (idioms, metaphors, and similes) that aids one's voice.
Voice is also tied to the emotional pitch of your writing. That is, when you are writing a particularly emotional or vivid scene, that's where your voice appears the strongest. It's not something you can or even should maintain in every paragraph of your story, but it's something that rises and falls with the pacing and structure of the story. When your voice ebbs and flows in sync with the structure, it contributes to narrative drive--that is, it's what keeps the reader turning the pages, even if the action is mundane.
Here are two examples of the same idea; one stripped of metaphors, similes, and most of the adverbs and adjectives (and thus, voice), the other as it was written:
"She sat in the drawing room at the pianoforte but did not play any music. She looked out the window at the sky instead. She didn't want to be here, and in fact felt unhappy and trapped. She wished she could go away."
This paragraph is short and to the point, and that's fine. Sometimes you want short and to the point. However, it doesn't have as much emotion as:
"She sat in the drawing room, her hands on the keys of the pianoforte, but did not play. Instead, she looked out of the window at the blue summer sky. The panes formed small rectangles, the sun casting shadows on each edge--it looked like a cage. But then a movement caught her eye: swallows dove toward the house, outlined in each frame of window like quick sketches, then with a quick flick of their wings twisted away from the house and upward into the air. She envied them; she wished she had wings so swift that a mere glance of a wingtip would send her away."
Here, I don't say directly that she feels trapped or that she's unhappy. But all the images combined--not playing music, looking out of windows that look like a cage, swallows flying away, and the repetition of the word "away," and "wing," etc.--give an impression of her emotional state. Note also that I use concrete images--I say "swallows" instead of just "birds." Read both paragraphs aloud, and listen for a rhythm. I think the latter paragraph is a bit more rhythmic.
This is voice. My particular combination of rhythm, concrete images, metaphors, and similes used together to evoke a scene and infuse it with emotion. You, no doubt, do it too.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Judging contests and beginning a novel
From 8/3/09:
I judged a writing contest again. I believe I've mentioned before that actually like doing this, as it really helps me articulate the dos and don'ts of novel writing, and reflect on how to apply technique in my own writing. And, as always, a particular issue usually pops up more than once, and when it does, it tells me it's a problem that a lot of writers have.
One contest entry bored me to tears. The other left me bewildered--where was I? Who were these people? And why should I care? And there was one that was just right--I wanted to read more.
The writing was competent (well, there were two that were not, but I'm not going there right now). The common problem with the ones that didn't work was that they didn't begin in the right place in the story's timeline.
There is a lot of advice about how to begin a story, and the fact is, the how isn't as important as the when. Newbie writers are told that you want a hook in the first paragraph to get the reader interested in your story, you need to begin with action, you need to avoid description, yadda yadda.
Toss that advice out the window. Toss it out right now! If you know when to begin your story, then the rest will follow.
So, when? Begin on the day your protagonist is given a choice that will change his or her life.
I want to emphasis "day" and "choice." You need two elements in a beginning: the foundational setting, the home, the "ordinary life" of the protagonist, and the choice the protagonist makes that will propel him or her out of that ordinary life. Together, that makes change, and change is the essence of plot and character development.
The day (not moment, not month; anywhere from half an hour to 12 hours) on which the protagonist's life changes is enough time to show the foundation of a character's life, what is usual for that character. You need that foundation. It tells you where that character has been, so that you can chart the future. It is not possible for a character to have a future unless he or she has a past.
For example, in my latest novella, "Miss Templar and the Holy Grail," the story opens with Miss Arabella Templar going into Almack's with her mother and her cousin Jeanne. This is a typical day in her life. It's clear that she's done it before.
And then a stranger comes up to her just before she steps into the assembly hall, and pushes a dirty tin cup into her hand and tells her she's the Grail Guardian, and that she must keep the cup safe. Now she has to make a choice: Does she take the cup, or doesn't she?
As a result, it begins, thus:
In other words, if you have the elements of choice vs. normal life up front in your story, you will naturally have a solid beginning. I don't think you can help having one. And if you can make that first sentence Twitter-sized, you probably have a hook.
I think that's it for now...it's late. Good night!
I judged a writing contest again. I believe I've mentioned before that actually like doing this, as it really helps me articulate the dos and don'ts of novel writing, and reflect on how to apply technique in my own writing. And, as always, a particular issue usually pops up more than once, and when it does, it tells me it's a problem that a lot of writers have.
One contest entry bored me to tears. The other left me bewildered--where was I? Who were these people? And why should I care? And there was one that was just right--I wanted to read more.
The writing was competent (well, there were two that were not, but I'm not going there right now). The common problem with the ones that didn't work was that they didn't begin in the right place in the story's timeline.
There is a lot of advice about how to begin a story, and the fact is, the how isn't as important as the when. Newbie writers are told that you want a hook in the first paragraph to get the reader interested in your story, you need to begin with action, you need to avoid description, yadda yadda.
Toss that advice out the window. Toss it out right now! If you know when to begin your story, then the rest will follow.
So, when? Begin on the day your protagonist is given a choice that will change his or her life.
I want to emphasis "day" and "choice." You need two elements in a beginning: the foundational setting, the home, the "ordinary life" of the protagonist, and the choice the protagonist makes that will propel him or her out of that ordinary life. Together, that makes change, and change is the essence of plot and character development.
The day (not moment, not month; anywhere from half an hour to 12 hours) on which the protagonist's life changes is enough time to show the foundation of a character's life, what is usual for that character. You need that foundation. It tells you where that character has been, so that you can chart the future. It is not possible for a character to have a future unless he or she has a past.
For example, in my latest novella, "Miss Templar and the Holy Grail," the story opens with Miss Arabella Templar going into Almack's with her mother and her cousin Jeanne. This is a typical day in her life. It's clear that she's done it before.
And then a stranger comes up to her just before she steps into the assembly hall, and pushes a dirty tin cup into her hand and tells her she's the Grail Guardian, and that she must keep the cup safe. Now she has to make a choice: Does she take the cup, or doesn't she?
As a result, it begins, thus:
There is nothing more odious than having the Holy Grail thrust into one’s hands when one is about to enter Almack’s. But what could I do? I had already my foot on the first step of the building’s entrance. Mama and cousin Jeanne were before me, already within doors. A crowd gathered behind me, eager to partake of the evening’s entertainment.When I think about it, that first paragraph pretty much encapsulates the conflict of the story: her past/normal life (going to Almack's and having a nice time), in conflict with her choice (taking the Grail from the mysterious man). That first line is even a hook, but not because I was deliberately looking for one, but because I wanted a first paragraph that set up/foreshadowed the conflict of the story.
A touch on my shoulder made me turn, ready to greet a friend, perhaps Clarice, for she is one of my bosom bows, and had told me she would attend this week.
Instead, a masked man very boldly took my hand and closed it over the bowl of what looked like a dirty tin cup. He then pulled me too close to him. “You are the Guardian of the Grail. Keep it safe,” he said into my ear, and disappeared into the group of people moving toward Almack’s.
A masked man. Really. Why could he not have just appeared in normal evening wear, neckcloth neatly tied, presented himself to me in the proper manner, asked me for a dance or two, and then offered a pleasant remembrance of flowers the next day? Oh, no, he could not do that. No, he must appear masked, dare touch me on my shoulder without any sort of introduction at all, and then converse in a manner that must make any observer assume he was either drunk or an idiot.
In other words, if you have the elements of choice vs. normal life up front in your story, you will naturally have a solid beginning. I don't think you can help having one. And if you can make that first sentence Twitter-sized, you probably have a hook.
I think that's it for now...it's late. Good night!
Sunday, October 11, 2009
I astonish even myself sometimes
From 1/8/08:
Every once in a while, I'll go through and delete my "sent" message files--I subscribe to a LOT of online writing groups, so much that I rarely have time to keep up--and I'll find that I have actually posted something useful vis a vis writing.
About the craft of writing:
Which is actually useful advice, because it means you need to have patience with yourself as you learn, get stuck, are released, and then understand and attain mastery.
The market (advice to a newbie):
Of course, this piece of advice could be pandering to those who think they are somehow "above" the market, which is not what I subscribe to, for that way lies madness, or at least bitterness. You really do have to think of your audience (not what publishers want--that's a different thing). IMHO, it's best to have an attitude of generosity about your writing, a wish to share the pleasure you have in the writing, as if you've created the most delicious meal you can imagine, and have invited your readers in for the feast. The most popular authors I know of have this attitude, an attitude of invitation, so that you are welcomed in to party along with him or her.
Did I ever say how much I love writing? I do, I purely do.
Every once in a while, I'll go through and delete my "sent" message files--I subscribe to a LOT of online writing groups, so much that I rarely have time to keep up--and I'll find that I have actually posted something useful vis a vis writing.
About the craft of writing:
That said...there is a mind-set that is behind Zen archery that I try to
remember. You learn technique until it doesn't matter any more. It becomes
one with who you are and the movement of you, the bow, the arrow, the
target. It is all one...but that only after you learn technique.
There is a pattern to learning the technique. You at first learn it, you
become bound by it, then you break free, and you are beyond it. But it
doesn't happen until you walk the path, learn the art.
Or, as my mother used to say, "so what if you don't have talent? You will
learn talent."
I have often thought my mother is actually Yoda in disguise.
Which is actually useful advice, because it means you need to have patience with yourself as you learn, get stuck, are released, and then understand and attain mastery.
The market (advice to a newbie):
Times change, trends change, and what didn’t work in the past will work now. Running after the latest trend will make for failure. The truth is, if you write what you love, the trend will move to what you are writing sooner or later. Running after the latest trend is like running after the bus that just left the station: you’ll always be running after it and exhausting yourself, instead of catching the next bus when it comes by if you stand where you are. That next bus may well have been the one that would have taken you where you wanted to go. Anyone who writes to the trend MIGHT get lucky and have one, maybe two books published. But you’ll see them burn out pretty quick, because they're always running after that bus instead of focusing on the art. Burn-out can mean the end of their career.
Homily for the day: THERE IS ALWAYS ANOTHER BUS.
Of course, this piece of advice could be pandering to those who think they are somehow "above" the market, which is not what I subscribe to, for that way lies madness, or at least bitterness. You really do have to think of your audience (not what publishers want--that's a different thing). IMHO, it's best to have an attitude of generosity about your writing, a wish to share the pleasure you have in the writing, as if you've created the most delicious meal you can imagine, and have invited your readers in for the feast. The most popular authors I know of have this attitude, an attitude of invitation, so that you are welcomed in to party along with him or her.
Did I ever say how much I love writing? I do, I purely do.
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