Forgive me if you’ve been looking for the next post. I’ve been busy writing for others, which is a good thing in this economy. Somehow, I manage to sneak through the cracks of our current financial constriction and keep afloat by doing what I love. I recently had a Skype discussion with a friend in Germany about why I think Story is so important to cultural awareness.
Mythology defines a culture’s formative ethical structure. It gives a universal consistency to communal interaction by virtue of establishing a common perception. Mythological stories are usually found in religious texts to give a cultural context in which to function. In the western culture (Europe and its imperialist extensions), the Bible seems to put forth most of the allegories by which we define our ethical structure.
There are many such mythologies, all having similar stories of humanity and its interaction with the divine: Mahabharata, Ramayana, Torah, Talmud, Shan Hai Jing, Kojiki, and the multitudes of Native American, African, Aboriginal mythologies that were/are a part of a grand oral tradition.
Most of theses mythologies have a creation story, a flood story (Atlantis?), a migration story, a messiah story, an immaculate-conception-virgin-birth story, a martyr story, a resurrection story, stories of human frailty with consequences and rewards, etc. These stories, allegories, and parables define a cultural context.
In the Western culture, we have been slowly evolving in consciousness. Some milestones that come to mind off the top of my head are the discoveries of Copernicus and Columbus (1490s) adjusting our egocentric perception, Age of Enlightenment (17th-18th centuries), Charles Darwin’s publication of On the Origin of Species (19th Century), Einstein’s Theory of Relativity (early 20th century), and the current advancements in quantum physics.
These advancements, among others, contribute to the ability of the growing masses to embrace the concept of unity of opposites, a continuum of change, and diversity within unity, which shifts the entire nature of the concept of monotheism from an External Almighty to manifestation being the expanding nature of infinite indivisible source, or God within and without, as above-so below.
Okay, does it appear that I’ve gone way over the top here? Not really. I’m talking about the primary purpose of story, which is to continue to define universal ethics and morality of an evolving cultural consciousness. If a story doesn’t imply an essential moral, whether by uplifting or tragic ending, what is the point of telling the story? I’m not interested in a story that has no underlying purpose implied by resolution of values out of balance.
That said, no one wants to be preached to... unless they seek it out. Most audiences go to a movie because they want to enjoy themselves. There are various emotional conditions that couch that enjoyment. Some like to be sensually aroused, some like to feel terror; some like to feel excitement; some like to feel expansion of the heart; some like to feel mentally challenged; and some like to feel spiritually uplifted.
Notice that I have gone right up the endocrine system, which corresponds with the subtle-body chakras. These various states of emotional arousal are defined by the environment in which the story is told. Story environment happens to be called Genre. Genre is established by point of view, writing style, and content. Genre is a general story environment within which all other elements function.
For me the most important story element is character. I find that if I know my main character, all other elements spring from that knowledge. I define knowing the main character to mean understanding all those foundational qualities that form character itself – redeeming quality, emotional wound, shadows/ghosts, emotional armor, reactive behavior, values out of balance, unconscious needs, conscious desires, and a back-story that leads to the opening of the current story.
If I know my main character well, the story will write itself because plot will evolve from the above-listed character elements. Plot becomes the vehicle that delivers an implied theme. Plot comes from challenging decisions of emotional risk toward the fulfillment of some conscious desire. The ensuing obstacles and dilemmas lead to symbolic crucifixion (sense of death of the quest), an atonement of old beliefs, adjustment in consciousness, a new direction, final conflict, and balancing of values. This implies a specific theme.
In order for this character arc to manifest, the writer must create the story world and people it with the characters that bring this change about in the main character. Therefore, an antagonist is created to represent the main character’s shadow fears, and a conscience character/mentor will be created to urge the main character to make conscious choices that contradict reactive behavior in the face of dilemmas. Other archetypes are created to fulfill the needs of the story, such as ally, tempter, skeptic, threshold guardian, love interest, etc. Situations build one upon the other based on the main character’s escalating choices of emotional risk.
This does not necessarily mean the first impetus to tell a story comes from knowing a character. The initial stimulus for a story could come from anything, such as an incident, a thought, a feeling, memory, or anything that inspires one to creative expression. However, soon after that initial stimulus, I must create a story perspective in the nature of a specific character.
Most books, seminars, screenwriting gurus teach that one needs to write a treatment and outline of one’s story before the script can be written. This is the easy way to teach screenwriting 101, but it is not the only approach to that first draft. Often, I have to write a first draft to discover my main character, my story, and my theme. From thence follows my outline!
This approach allows me to write from a more intuitive place of discovery. Once I have discovered the depths of character – his behavior dictated by his inner emotional construct – and the plot and theme, I go back with my critical brain and reconstruct the character, story, plot, and theme based on my journey through the labyrinth of story impulse.
Does this mean that I sometimes start out not knowing what I want to say? I must confess that it does. However, I have the confidence that I’ll discover my voice as I hack my way through the first draft... always knowing that a critical second draft is waiting in the wings.
This is not everyone’s approach. In fact, some writers find this to be a scary tactic. There are others who write an intuitive first draft without doing the imperative second draft. Unless you are channeling Charles Dickens or Shakespeare, I would advise against skipping this final step.
Well, this post probably needs to be edited and rewritten, but alas, I’m not going to follow my own advice. I’m looking forward to getting back to my story!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Where Do I Start?
“I am the sort of writer who thrives on assignments. A blank slate makes me crazy, but if you tell me what you want and give me a deadline, I’m happy.” Garrison Keillor wrote that in his introduction to his printed script A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION (Penguin Books). I can relate. Here I am deciding to create a script for a movie that I have no money for and no one cares. What’s the point? And how do I get started?
First, to the point of why I bother. It’s a little like working out. Sometimes it feels good, but to get and stay in shape you have to be consistent, and consistency can get tedious. But being in shape feels great, so you do it. Like Dorothy Parker said: “I hate to write; I love having written.” I love it whenever someone reads one of my scripts and tells me how much they love it. You could accuse me of being other-directed, but I like reading my stuff too. Also, I know the thrill of being in the creative process. It’s all-consuming. It’s just a matter of overcoming the inertia and getting started.
So, how do I get started in order to begin the journey toward this love fest? I pretend that it is an assignment with strict guidelines. I don’t know what the story is yet, but I create parameters, some of which I already know:
1. The entire movie will be shot in my apartment;
2. I will play the lead and limit my cast to 3;
3. I will spend no more than 50 grand for everything – pre-, shoot, post.
This leads to many influences already built into the above parameters. I look around my apartment and see what I have to work with.
1. 4 walls full of books of every subject, and sheet music, and CDs, and DVDs;
2. a grand piano;
3. a guitar;
4. memorabilia from a marriage and divorce;
5. computers;
6. kitchen utensils;
7. furniture;
8. closet full of clothes;
9. junk closet with toolbox and miscellaneous stuff;
10. doors and windows to the outside world;
11. all the other usual stuff one finds in a bachelor pad.
Then, I become influenced by things I’ve been reading lately. Harold Pinter died recently, so I’ve been rereading his biography and plays. He was influenced by Samuel Beckett and Eugene Ionesco, so I start reading Beckett’s stuff. Beckett worked with James Joyce, so I delve a little into Joyce. This is the string that my mind follows. If you know any of these writers, you know that their characters live in a paranoid world (which reminds me of Kafka!) – Pinter’s, Beckett’s, and Ionesco’s anyway. They are masters of minimalism, subtext, economy, understatement, and abstraction.
Somehow, among this reading, I detoured off into reading about and watching Alfred Hitchcock’s works. Hitchcock inspired Francois Truffant and the French New Wave, which led me back to Ingmar Bergman and a whole consideration of telling the story visually and as non-verbally as possible. Being of the theatre, this is somewhat foreign to me because I love creating character scene agendas in conflict through dialogue.
Coupled with the above, I have accepted an assignment to write a horror script recently, a genre that I don’t particularly relate to. So, in the past week I’ve watched a ton of horror movies, classic and contemporary, some guffawishly bad and some pretty good. I actually like the psychological horror, which to me is not horror, but terror. Horror can create terror, but I think you can have the terror without the nonsense of splatter, slash and gore, the supernatural Satanic crap, or stupid characters making really stupid choices. I think the best horror films are those where the protagonists are not victims of uncontrollable circumstances, but have created their own circumstance by dilemma-driven decisions between irreconcilable choices. I think the writer and director can create a feeling of more culpability within the audience that way.
All of these current occupations will influence my story and characters. I have given myself parameters. The next step is to create my character and what he wants. Since I cannot separate myself from who I am, I know some things that I will bring to this character. Underlying all the psychological stuff – the fear manifesting as loss, paranoia, disconnection, frustration, ennui, absurd laughter, etc. – the character will have a spiritual hunger, a need to understand his existence and a fundamental desire to express his purpose. I know this will be an inherent part of the character because it is who I am. I will be writing the character and playing him, so this fundamental trait will come out organically.
I’m sure that bouncing back and forth between my project and the horror project will create a cross-fertilization influence as well. My experiences and recently-acquired knowledge will flavor whatever I am working on. The key is to be judicial with it as I shape my story and character. Having written 3 biopics on assignment in the last couple of years, my biggest challenge was to convince the person paying me that the facts were not as necessary as telling a good story. Telling a good story is the number-one priority in all cases. The big question here is how to do that in a small space and keep the audience fascinated and wanting to know what’s going to happen next. And on we go...
First, to the point of why I bother. It’s a little like working out. Sometimes it feels good, but to get and stay in shape you have to be consistent, and consistency can get tedious. But being in shape feels great, so you do it. Like Dorothy Parker said: “I hate to write; I love having written.” I love it whenever someone reads one of my scripts and tells me how much they love it. You could accuse me of being other-directed, but I like reading my stuff too. Also, I know the thrill of being in the creative process. It’s all-consuming. It’s just a matter of overcoming the inertia and getting started.
So, how do I get started in order to begin the journey toward this love fest? I pretend that it is an assignment with strict guidelines. I don’t know what the story is yet, but I create parameters, some of which I already know:
1. The entire movie will be shot in my apartment;
2. I will play the lead and limit my cast to 3;
3. I will spend no more than 50 grand for everything – pre-, shoot, post.
This leads to many influences already built into the above parameters. I look around my apartment and see what I have to work with.
1. 4 walls full of books of every subject, and sheet music, and CDs, and DVDs;
2. a grand piano;
3. a guitar;
4. memorabilia from a marriage and divorce;
5. computers;
6. kitchen utensils;
7. furniture;
8. closet full of clothes;
9. junk closet with toolbox and miscellaneous stuff;
10. doors and windows to the outside world;
11. all the other usual stuff one finds in a bachelor pad.
Then, I become influenced by things I’ve been reading lately. Harold Pinter died recently, so I’ve been rereading his biography and plays. He was influenced by Samuel Beckett and Eugene Ionesco, so I start reading Beckett’s stuff. Beckett worked with James Joyce, so I delve a little into Joyce. This is the string that my mind follows. If you know any of these writers, you know that their characters live in a paranoid world (which reminds me of Kafka!) – Pinter’s, Beckett’s, and Ionesco’s anyway. They are masters of minimalism, subtext, economy, understatement, and abstraction.
Somehow, among this reading, I detoured off into reading about and watching Alfred Hitchcock’s works. Hitchcock inspired Francois Truffant and the French New Wave, which led me back to Ingmar Bergman and a whole consideration of telling the story visually and as non-verbally as possible. Being of the theatre, this is somewhat foreign to me because I love creating character scene agendas in conflict through dialogue.
Coupled with the above, I have accepted an assignment to write a horror script recently, a genre that I don’t particularly relate to. So, in the past week I’ve watched a ton of horror movies, classic and contemporary, some guffawishly bad and some pretty good. I actually like the psychological horror, which to me is not horror, but terror. Horror can create terror, but I think you can have the terror without the nonsense of splatter, slash and gore, the supernatural Satanic crap, or stupid characters making really stupid choices. I think the best horror films are those where the protagonists are not victims of uncontrollable circumstances, but have created their own circumstance by dilemma-driven decisions between irreconcilable choices. I think the writer and director can create a feeling of more culpability within the audience that way.
All of these current occupations will influence my story and characters. I have given myself parameters. The next step is to create my character and what he wants. Since I cannot separate myself from who I am, I know some things that I will bring to this character. Underlying all the psychological stuff – the fear manifesting as loss, paranoia, disconnection, frustration, ennui, absurd laughter, etc. – the character will have a spiritual hunger, a need to understand his existence and a fundamental desire to express his purpose. I know this will be an inherent part of the character because it is who I am. I will be writing the character and playing him, so this fundamental trait will come out organically.
I’m sure that bouncing back and forth between my project and the horror project will create a cross-fertilization influence as well. My experiences and recently-acquired knowledge will flavor whatever I am working on. The key is to be judicial with it as I shape my story and character. Having written 3 biopics on assignment in the last couple of years, my biggest challenge was to convince the person paying me that the facts were not as necessary as telling a good story. Telling a good story is the number-one priority in all cases. The big question here is how to do that in a small space and keep the audience fascinated and wanting to know what’s going to happen next. And on we go...
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