This week was DexCon, the annual summer gaming convention that happens between Origins and GenCon (the two other big summer conventions). And if you've been anywhere near me lately, you likely got sucked into the tornado that was John-prepping-for-a-convention.
This year I was assisting in the running of a Signature Event, a tournament of Night's Black Agents where the winning team scored a $1,000 for surviving and discovering the conspiracy unfolding around them. I am forever grateful to the tremendous assistance and support of Ken Hite, the game's creator as well as Bill White, the third GM for their enthusiasm and patience with me -- I have no doubt I was an over-compensating buzz of frantic anxiety, and they were masterful in keeping me on track and keeping everything moving forward.
Granted, my job seemed easy - I had to create the 30 characters for participants to use, as well as develop adventures designed to both give the players clues as well as winnow down the 30 players to a final round. We were successful, and I felt a tremendous sense of relief and adrenal relaxation (I suddenly lost an invisible 60 pounds of "what if this sucks?" I had been carrying). And the whole event, which mauled my Saturday, taught me A LOT.
Combine that with likely one of my top-four workshops (which is no longer at midnight, and comes with coffee for the morning crowd) and I am deeply happy man. That also taught me a lot.
I list those things now. When I talk about "it" (whatever "it" is) just replace that word with your book/game/project/thing you're doing).
1. It doesn't have to be perfect, it has to be the best you can do, and you have to give a shit about it. When I said yes to the opportunity to co-run a tournament, and once I got past the excitement of "I'm going to play one of my all-time favorite games with one of my favorite people who happens to be the guy who wrote the game!" and I saw the amount of work I had to do, it was tough not to get immediately paralyzed.
Create 30 characters that were pitch-perfect, interesting and accessible to players as well as seven scenarios that would weed through players and characters all within a 6-or-so-hour block? Gulp. I have experience making characters, I've even thought at times I was good at it, because I'm really just filling out an excel sheet, but this....this is serious! I can't just have "my" kind of characters, I need to have Grade-A characters (kudos if you just caught the implication that I doubt myself sometimes).
And I just can't have decent or average plots, I have to have plots good enough for the guy who wrote the game will respect and enjoy and not scowl at me all the way through. I can't suck at this. (Cue anxiety, nervous stomach and panic sweats)
So, I sat down, talked myself down off that ledge and got to work.
a) I know how to do this.
b) I do this for my friends all the time.
c) I'm not working in a vacuum, I have people (like the game's creator, duh) who can help me
d) and if it all goes pear-shaped, who cares, it's a game, not nuclear disarmament talks with the Iranians)
And I did it. It was time-consuming, and it was essentially its own clinic in game design, story development and how-John-deals-with-the-spotlight, but I did it. Likely, when I tell you that I had also dropped about $90 at Staples to get pencils, erasers and folders, you'll tell me that I overdid it, but the fact remained that I put all these things together. I don't say that so that people say "Oh wow that's amazing." I say that so that I get it in my own damn head that I took on a big project and kicked its ass.
Was it perfect? Nope. Characters were under-powered, plots had holes, and my printer is low on toner, but all those things are fixable, despite my frustration and guilt that I didn't do a perfect job, what I got was teased, not yelled at for the errors. And the errors got fixed, and a good time was had by all.
2. There are few things as nerve wracking as watching someone else go through your work with an audience, especially when they're the developer of the game upon which your work is based. I'm used to people critiquing my writing. I go to meetings, I share my work with a lot of people, and they give me feedback (usually it's "keep writing this!" and "stop thinking that you're not good at it!" etc etc), so I have no problem sharing my work when my work is prose - someone reads it, they make comments, I'm used to that.
But it is wholly a different beast when what you've written is something interactive. When you watch someone at the top of the field take your work and make it come alive for an audience in a way you didn't realize possible. It wasn't just roll a few dice and say something, it was a moving, near-theater experience. It was as gaming should be - a dive into deep waters of imagination and story-telling where everyone is equally invested and equally enraptured by the tale and their contributions to it.
So I'm sitting there in the back of the room, watching Ken lead the final table through the plot. I know where the monsters are. I know where the red flags are. But what Ken did was transform them from simple encounters and bullet-points on page 4 into a story, and he painted (I mean like Van Gogh) a picture of an adventure and enemies and tension and excitement that I had some inkling of on the page...but Ken filled in the dots in a way that I don't think anyone else could. He made my words not suck. He made them awesome.
That is scary though. While the other people in the room are listening to the players gasp and laugh and cheer and panic and play, I'm listening to the plot, I'm waiting for "Okay, does this monster kill them?" and "What about the clue?" That tension goes far beyond I-hope-there's-a-winner and turns into oh-god-I-hope-this-doesn't-suck-for-people. But...we made it. Hooray!
3. The biggest interference in a plot are the characters. The plot for the tournament, I felt, was one of the cleanest and jaw-dropping-est I-can't-believe-that's-a-thing plots I've ever worked on. It was so not a "go to Place A, retrieve item B, fight enemy C" affairs, but it rather intricately wove about 2 dozen clues together so that people could follow along.
Of course that somewhat assumes they will follow along. When one character takes the lady he's supposed to protect and seduces her, then knocks her unconscious and throws her out a window into a pool (so the badguys can't get her), that's both one hell of a mixed message as well as something I wouldn't think to do.
Likewise when characters are marshaling their forces and say "We need a flamethrower", that's not really something you can plan for. And no, you cannot plan for everything. The characters will surprise you when you leave them open-ended and provide fertilizer for the seed beds of imagination. (No, this isn't the time to get into that discussion about whether you or not you "let the characters dictate the story as you write it", this isn't the place for that.)
I'm not saying that people are going to sabotage the plot, but you just have to roll with the punches when characters decide to make a hard-left out of the story and take it in a new direction. Granted this weekend we had neither time nor energy to vamp for 3 hours to get them back on track, so there was a huge margin of flexing, but as the developer of content, much like Moff Tarkin, you can't hold too tightly to your plans, else things slip through your fingers. And I guess your British accent will come and go. Or something.
4. You need to take care of yourself. So I worked on this tournament and then decided that a six-hour marathon game wasn't enough, that I would pull myself to my feet and play in another game that went from midnight until about 2am or so. Because that's the healthiest response I could make, right? So by the time I fell asleep it was around 3:30 and I had to be up at 8:30 and ready to give a workshop at 10.
Also, if you're scoring along at home, I am not 22 with a super metabolism and incredibly springy immune system. Oh, and I've fractured my ankle recently, depending on which medical authority you talk to (sprain, fracture, break, microfracture, these terms are but commas in medical sentences), so I'm gimping along on one leg and doing my best to pop Advil here and there and rest whenever possible. So what's more restful than gaming for 12 hours straight?
On Sunday I had a GREAT, SUPER AMAZING WORKSHOP with a fantastic and detailed discussion of writing - covering discipline and habits and goal-setting and related ideas. I also answered a ton of questions (there were some wonderful questions this time), but I was so tired, I wanted to be more enthusiastic and answer more questions and get more into how to individually help people....but I just ran out of gas. I was tired and worn down and needed to rest.
It should be mentioned that this whole weekend it was hot. Like crazy living-in-a-furnace hot. Like 89 degrees at 2am hot. Hydration was the order of the day, and when I was hydrated, I felt great, I was awake and my foot didn't hurt. When I was way behind in my waterload, I was sluggish, tired and a little babbling.
Those times when I stretched out in a chair, put my leg up and drank water? Incredibly restorative. I didn't feel like I needed to be go-go-go all the time, I was better for not pressuring myself to do more.
So, summary time:
Take good care of yourself, and it makes stressful high-energy times worth it.
You're going to end up stressing yourself out trying to be perfect, you'll be much better off trusting yourself to do the best job possible.
More than you realize, there are very likely a lot more people who support you and actually like you, rather than who just tolerate your presence.
Happy writing. Later this week, I'll do a post about how my writing has changed because of this experience.
Showing posts with label techniques. Show all posts
Showing posts with label techniques. Show all posts
Monday, July 9, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
Fighting Sag
On this beautiful Friday morning, with the sun streaming into the office and the air nicely not so Dagobah swamp humid, let's talk about sag.
"Sag" is not just something reserved for lady chests or heavy tree limbs, it's also what will murder your writing if you let it. And this isn't just murder mafia-style where it shoots your manuscript once behind the ear. This is murder by asphyxiation. This is not a quick and easy murder. Sag will slowly, painfully and maliciously wrench the last moments of life out of your manuscript, and smile while doing it.
Sag's full name is "middle of novel sag" or "Second Act Sag", and today we're going to talk about what causes it and how to fix it.
As the name implies, sag happens when the momentum and pace of the story slow way down and the urge to turn the page and keep moving (as a reader) shrinks and shrinks until you ultimately start asking why you're even bothering to do it anymore. It generally happens in the second act, because that's the part of the story that's all about expansion: we met the characters and the plot in Act 1, now we get to see them develop and evolve before meeting for the climax and resolution in the third act.
The big problem is that expansion isn't all that exciting sometimes. While you're developing characters and making connections between plot points and furthering the story, some of that stuff makes a desert look damp. Yes, near the end of the expansion, there's some excitement built up as you get towards climax, but that's a very small segment of the expansion, and that comes AFTER some (often huge) swath of the middle of the book where "you felt penned in" and "couldn't really do anything too big because you were still in the second act".
But that's, frankly, stupid. There's no rule that says you can't have an exciting second act. The rules for climax state it just has to be the highest point of tension/action. But you can't really have a "highest point" without some other reference points for comparison, right?
So the first tool in your toolbox to fight sag is "Second Act High Points". Don't start thinking these high points are only physical encounters, they aren't. These are just moments where you shake up the complacency and status quo of the chapter(s) by putting in a scene or a few beats to make the reader sit up and take notice. Yes, sometimes that's a fight, but it could also be the discovery of clues in a mystery, a hero's internal conflict and resolve kicking in, yet another attack by the enemy's henchmen or something as simple as a phone call from one character to another. The point here is ACTION. Just like shaking up a YooHoo to get the chocolatey goodness off the bottom when it settles, so too does a Second Act High Point shake up and redistribute the interest, excitement, flavor and tension of the manuscript.
You could stop there, and walk away knowing that "Action beats Sag" but if you've been a regular reader of this blog, you know I've got more to share. Let's look at another slightly more complicated tool against sag.
Just like making a key from a mold you've kept in the back of your eyeshadow compact (I'm looking at you standard-spy-movie-trope), you can get a sense of something based on the impression it leaves in the space/things/clay around it. A more typical expression of this is in a widow, widower or someone who just lost a close loved one -- the absence of that person leaves an impact, and who/what that person was leaves an imprint on those left behind.
What we're dealing with here "Negative Space Impressions" also called "Silhouetting" if you want to use the slightly douchey arthouse term (which by the way is great for annoying college professors). You don't outright describe what the thing is, you describe the impression the thing leaves on the surroundings.
If I'm describing my house key in this way, I'm not talking about the ridges and angles of the key itself, I'm talking about the way the pins are lifted in the lock when I use it. If I'm describing a dead character, rather than give a lengthy physical description and segue into a totally lame flashback where the character will speak to me but never be as cool as the ghost of Hamlet's father or Obi Wan Kenobi, I'm talking about how I (the narrator in this case) perceive/remember (imperfectly) the lessons the character wanted to impart. So I'm humanizing myself, talking about a character's impression and advancing my character growth in one fell swoop.
Is that harder? Yes. Is it worth it in the end? Absolutely. Any situation where you walk away learning more about the character, the relationship(s) between the character and everything else in the world AND advancing character growth is absolutely worth it.
Are there only 2 ways to fight sag? Nope. But those two are a good start. Go forth, don't let the middle of your book fall into a flat, comatose state.
Happy writing. Enjoy your weekend.
Sag's full name is "middle of novel sag" or "Second Act Sag", and today we're going to talk about what causes it and how to fix it.
As the name implies, sag happens when the momentum and pace of the story slow way down and the urge to turn the page and keep moving (as a reader) shrinks and shrinks until you ultimately start asking why you're even bothering to do it anymore. It generally happens in the second act, because that's the part of the story that's all about expansion: we met the characters and the plot in Act 1, now we get to see them develop and evolve before meeting for the climax and resolution in the third act.
The big problem is that expansion isn't all that exciting sometimes. While you're developing characters and making connections between plot points and furthering the story, some of that stuff makes a desert look damp. Yes, near the end of the expansion, there's some excitement built up as you get towards climax, but that's a very small segment of the expansion, and that comes AFTER some (often huge) swath of the middle of the book where "you felt penned in" and "couldn't really do anything too big because you were still in the second act".
But that's, frankly, stupid. There's no rule that says you can't have an exciting second act. The rules for climax state it just has to be the highest point of tension/action. But you can't really have a "highest point" without some other reference points for comparison, right?
So the first tool in your toolbox to fight sag is "Second Act High Points". Don't start thinking these high points are only physical encounters, they aren't. These are just moments where you shake up the complacency and status quo of the chapter(s) by putting in a scene or a few beats to make the reader sit up and take notice. Yes, sometimes that's a fight, but it could also be the discovery of clues in a mystery, a hero's internal conflict and resolve kicking in, yet another attack by the enemy's henchmen or something as simple as a phone call from one character to another. The point here is ACTION. Just like shaking up a YooHoo to get the chocolatey goodness off the bottom when it settles, so too does a Second Act High Point shake up and redistribute the interest, excitement, flavor and tension of the manuscript.
You could stop there, and walk away knowing that "Action beats Sag" but if you've been a regular reader of this blog, you know I've got more to share. Let's look at another slightly more complicated tool against sag.
Just like making a key from a mold you've kept in the back of your eyeshadow compact (I'm looking at you standard-spy-movie-trope), you can get a sense of something based on the impression it leaves in the space/things/clay around it. A more typical expression of this is in a widow, widower or someone who just lost a close loved one -- the absence of that person leaves an impact, and who/what that person was leaves an imprint on those left behind.
What we're dealing with here "Negative Space Impressions" also called "Silhouetting" if you want to use the slightly douchey arthouse term (which by the way is great for annoying college professors). You don't outright describe what the thing is, you describe the impression the thing leaves on the surroundings.
If I'm describing my house key in this way, I'm not talking about the ridges and angles of the key itself, I'm talking about the way the pins are lifted in the lock when I use it. If I'm describing a dead character, rather than give a lengthy physical description and segue into a totally lame flashback where the character will speak to me but never be as cool as the ghost of Hamlet's father or Obi Wan Kenobi, I'm talking about how I (the narrator in this case) perceive/remember (imperfectly) the lessons the character wanted to impart. So I'm humanizing myself, talking about a character's impression and advancing my character growth in one fell swoop.
Is that harder? Yes. Is it worth it in the end? Absolutely. Any situation where you walk away learning more about the character, the relationship(s) between the character and everything else in the world AND advancing character growth is absolutely worth it.
Are there only 2 ways to fight sag? Nope. But those two are a good start. Go forth, don't let the middle of your book fall into a flat, comatose state.
Happy writing. Enjoy your weekend.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Writing/Gaming - Show versus Tell
Time for a classic debate. Time for some good ol' fashioned barroom brawling over what-to-do-when-and-what's-better. Time to roll up our sleeves and get really INTO our work.
Today we're talking Show versus Tell.
I haven't brought this up on the blog before, but I think it's time. Now I'm going to come at this first for the book people but then for the game people, because while many of those elements overlap, the game design aspects have a spin on them that changes the nature of the debate. Let's introduce the sides of the debate...
Show
This is more explicative, and treats the reader as more of a current viewer of the story. Also, this gives the reader the sense that the story is unfolding AS they read it, which helps make them feel like they're more a part of the story, and they enjoy it more, so they read more, so in theory if you've written more, they'll buy more. This is also a slower approach to developing characters, scenes, settings, and actions.
Were I to show you what I'm doing now, I have the option of treating your eyes like a film camera and zoom you all the way in to show you my fingers striking the keys on my awesome ergonomic keyboard. Or I might show you the room I'm writing in, describing it as the stunt double of a book and game store right now. Or I might start you in from above the scene, and sweep you into the office via the window, past the curtains and in over my shoulder to watch me write this sentence.
Regardless of how I choose to do it, the important thing is that the action and the character and nature of what's going on is unfurling around you in a relative real-time. I'm showing you that I'm writing this, because...that's what I'm doing now. I'm showing you the laundry basket of clothes I need to sort together for this weekend, because it's relevant to the distracting thought I'm having while I write.
Remember Rule #1 - Writing is the act of making decisions. And I, the author, am deciding to give you a view of the action AS it happens, so that you feel like a part of it, so that you can take advantage of all the details I'm providing, so that you have the most complete picture on your mental canvas.
Showing can consume more space, use more details, take more time and tax a writer more (because there's more work to do) than Telling, but the payoff is greater. Even on a egoic sense, through good use of Showing I can show-off (see what I did there?) my ability to write pretty sentences or describe things really well or demonstrate just how much "in charge" I am while you're reading.
Tell
Telling is more direct, but it does require the assumption that the reader trust the author. The author is giving specific details and specific explanations of details so that the reader knows what went on and what is on-going. It's a little more clinical, but also more subjective (if the voice doing the telling is biased or unclear or not omnipresent).
If I were going to tell you what I'm doing now, I can start in any fashion I want - If I want to set a tone that I dislike my work or my day or whatever, I can tell you that detail while I tell you what I'm doing. I also don't have to describe or paint any picture outside the relevant facts to what I want - When I tell you that I'm really sort of worried about X because of Y reason, I don't need to involve the awesome description of the wind chimes out the window if I don't want. (Remember, decisions)
Also, telling compresses time. It's fast-forwarding through actions you may not want to dive into, it's speeding through the lulls in action. This is particularly true if you go so far as to tell me that time has passed. (Two months went by...)
Telling allows the world to pass by, change, develop and grow outside of the bubble of the story, which we can cut back to when the action/story/drama/stuff resumes.
So What's All The Fuss About?
People, books, careers and media outlets make a huge fuss over showing and not telling. Yes, it's a problem. Yes, it's something a writer should be aware of. Yes it often requires a writer work harder to paint the picture for rather that telling me about the picture they're seeing.
Telling when you should be showing IS NOT a sign of a "wrong" writer. It's a mistake, for sure, but it's not enough to ban you from all forms of communication and shun you to some weird leper colony.
Like so many things, there should be a balance between the two -- you shouldn't be all one-or-the-other, and I'd be a little leery of anyone who advocates so strongly to exclude one side too often.
There are going to be things you tell, and things you show, and it's important that you figure out which is which in your story.
What Can I Do?
If you're expecting a checklist here, there isn't one. I'm sorry. But since we're all telling stories differently, the checklist is too circumstantial. But what I can tell you to look for are some key elements:
1. How close (or far away) do I want the reader to be in this scene? Do I want them over the shoulder of a particular character? Do I want them floating above the entire scene? Where do I want them focused?
2. What's important in this scene? Is it one character more than another? Is it the environment around them? Is it some tension that's conveyed without speaking?
3. What comes AFTER this particular scene? Where are we going from here? Do I have to ratchet up the emotion/action to get things rolling forward? How can I help this scene go into the next one?
4. What do I want the reader to take away from this scene when they're done? Should they have gained plot-critical information? Should they get some character-developing info? Are they just going to read that same description about the same chair over and over? Is anything new here?
In a later post I'll likely explore specific examples of each. Right now, authors, tell your stories. Get them all out of your heads, past the scratch notebooks and into some drafts. Just produce material for now. There's a whole other round of editing and developing that can happen AFTER you get the story out. But that's later....go tell me the story first.
Authors, happy writing.
Gamers, you're up.
For you, this debate has all the elements discussed above with the added issue of mechanics.
Because a game has to on some level be instructional, and teach the players what they can do, mechanics have to SHOW you HOW and TELL you WHAT.
Show me (the player) how to adjudicate different situations. Do I roll dice? Which dice? Show me the examples.
Tell me how to handle combat. Is there one mechanic I apply repeatedly? Are there steps? What am I allowed to do? What can't I do? (And why, don't forget the why).
There's still a blend required, still a balance to strike in the economy of show-and-tell, but you can use the mechanics as a lens and a bridge to walk the reader/player through the base of the story so the players can expand it as they see fit -- and yes, you do have to let them.
(Note - I really thought it would take me longer to say all that, but I'm satisfied.)
Happy writing.
I haven't brought this up on the blog before, but I think it's time. Now I'm going to come at this first for the book people but then for the game people, because while many of those elements overlap, the game design aspects have a spin on them that changes the nature of the debate. Let's introduce the sides of the debate...
Show
This is more explicative, and treats the reader as more of a current viewer of the story. Also, this gives the reader the sense that the story is unfolding AS they read it, which helps make them feel like they're more a part of the story, and they enjoy it more, so they read more, so in theory if you've written more, they'll buy more. This is also a slower approach to developing characters, scenes, settings, and actions.
Were I to show you what I'm doing now, I have the option of treating your eyes like a film camera and zoom you all the way in to show you my fingers striking the keys on my awesome ergonomic keyboard. Or I might show you the room I'm writing in, describing it as the stunt double of a book and game store right now. Or I might start you in from above the scene, and sweep you into the office via the window, past the curtains and in over my shoulder to watch me write this sentence.
Regardless of how I choose to do it, the important thing is that the action and the character and nature of what's going on is unfurling around you in a relative real-time. I'm showing you that I'm writing this, because...that's what I'm doing now. I'm showing you the laundry basket of clothes I need to sort together for this weekend, because it's relevant to the distracting thought I'm having while I write.
Remember Rule #1 - Writing is the act of making decisions. And I, the author, am deciding to give you a view of the action AS it happens, so that you feel like a part of it, so that you can take advantage of all the details I'm providing, so that you have the most complete picture on your mental canvas.
Showing can consume more space, use more details, take more time and tax a writer more (because there's more work to do) than Telling, but the payoff is greater. Even on a egoic sense, through good use of Showing I can show-off (see what I did there?) my ability to write pretty sentences or describe things really well or demonstrate just how much "in charge" I am while you're reading.
Tell
Telling is more direct, but it does require the assumption that the reader trust the author. The author is giving specific details and specific explanations of details so that the reader knows what went on and what is on-going. It's a little more clinical, but also more subjective (if the voice doing the telling is biased or unclear or not omnipresent).
If I were going to tell you what I'm doing now, I can start in any fashion I want - If I want to set a tone that I dislike my work or my day or whatever, I can tell you that detail while I tell you what I'm doing. I also don't have to describe or paint any picture outside the relevant facts to what I want - When I tell you that I'm really sort of worried about X because of Y reason, I don't need to involve the awesome description of the wind chimes out the window if I don't want. (Remember, decisions)
Also, telling compresses time. It's fast-forwarding through actions you may not want to dive into, it's speeding through the lulls in action. This is particularly true if you go so far as to tell me that time has passed. (Two months went by...)
Telling allows the world to pass by, change, develop and grow outside of the bubble of the story, which we can cut back to when the action/story/drama/stuff resumes.
So What's All The Fuss About?
People, books, careers and media outlets make a huge fuss over showing and not telling. Yes, it's a problem. Yes, it's something a writer should be aware of. Yes it often requires a writer work harder to paint the picture for rather that telling me about the picture they're seeing.
Telling when you should be showing IS NOT a sign of a "wrong" writer. It's a mistake, for sure, but it's not enough to ban you from all forms of communication and shun you to some weird leper colony.
Like so many things, there should be a balance between the two -- you shouldn't be all one-or-the-other, and I'd be a little leery of anyone who advocates so strongly to exclude one side too often.
There are going to be things you tell, and things you show, and it's important that you figure out which is which in your story.
What Can I Do?
If you're expecting a checklist here, there isn't one. I'm sorry. But since we're all telling stories differently, the checklist is too circumstantial. But what I can tell you to look for are some key elements:
1. How close (or far away) do I want the reader to be in this scene? Do I want them over the shoulder of a particular character? Do I want them floating above the entire scene? Where do I want them focused?
2. What's important in this scene? Is it one character more than another? Is it the environment around them? Is it some tension that's conveyed without speaking?
3. What comes AFTER this particular scene? Where are we going from here? Do I have to ratchet up the emotion/action to get things rolling forward? How can I help this scene go into the next one?
4. What do I want the reader to take away from this scene when they're done? Should they have gained plot-critical information? Should they get some character-developing info? Are they just going to read that same description about the same chair over and over? Is anything new here?
In a later post I'll likely explore specific examples of each. Right now, authors, tell your stories. Get them all out of your heads, past the scratch notebooks and into some drafts. Just produce material for now. There's a whole other round of editing and developing that can happen AFTER you get the story out. But that's later....go tell me the story first.
Authors, happy writing.
Gamers, you're up.
For you, this debate has all the elements discussed above with the added issue of mechanics.
Because a game has to on some level be instructional, and teach the players what they can do, mechanics have to SHOW you HOW and TELL you WHAT.
Show me (the player) how to adjudicate different situations. Do I roll dice? Which dice? Show me the examples.
Tell me how to handle combat. Is there one mechanic I apply repeatedly? Are there steps? What am I allowed to do? What can't I do? (And why, don't forget the why).
There's still a blend required, still a balance to strike in the economy of show-and-tell, but you can use the mechanics as a lens and a bridge to walk the reader/player through the base of the story so the players can expand it as they see fit -- and yes, you do have to let them.
(Note - I really thought it would take me longer to say all that, but I'm satisfied.)
Happy writing.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Writing Theory - The Circle
Today, we focus on some writing theory. You may have seen this elsewhere, or seen it in pieces, but I rather like this method (it is not my own), and thought some of you could benefit from it.
For this, you'll need:
Let's get started.
For this, you'll need:
- 1 legal pad (or blank piece of paper)
- 1 pen
- 1 name for a character
Now, draw a circle on the paper.
Now draw a plus sign in the circle, to create four quarters. (Divide the circle in half vertically then in half again horizontally)
Now number the ends of the plus with 1, 3, 5, and 7
In the middle of the quarters, number 2, 4, 6, and 8
It should, basically, look like this:
This is a cycle, and we're going to go through the numbers clockwise. By the time we're done, you're going to have a good idea about the development of your story.
Note: This applies to all kinds of fiction - from screenplays to novels to big epics to cave paintings - anything where you have a character and a mission to do something.
Note: This applies to all kinds of fiction - from screenplays to novels to big epics to cave paintings - anything where you have a character and a mission to do something.
Let's get started.
1.CHARACTER
You're going to start this off with a character. I like to use protagonists for this, but it's also possible you use an antagonist for this, depending on your tone or your objective. You want to stay away from using secondary characters here, because they don't really need so much attention.
The character starts at the top of this chart as we find them at the beginning of the story. Understand that the state we have the character at Position 1 is NOT going to be the state we find them in after Position 8.
Also understand that if you go through this wheel several times (say it's one character over a series of books), that each Position 1 is relative to the start of the respective book, and it's not always going to be the stripped down Book-1 version.
2.NEED (AS EXPRESSED IN PLOT)
This is the conflict or problem the story has put forth to challenge the character. This isn't so much their internal desire, this is more like the plot of the book. For those people writing series, try and keep this to one book at a time -- being too broad here really waters down the efficacy of the subsequent numbers.
If your story has twists or big reveals in it, then Position 2 is where you document the most complete and most knowledgeable plot of the book -- after all the twists, after all the misdirects, whatever the challenge is, goes here.
So, for something like The Usual Suspects, the plot isn't so much "To let Kevin Spacey get away with it", it's to "have the detective/audience understand what happened"
For something more linear, like Donkey Kong, it's "To have Mario rescue his girlfriend (Who wasn't Peach) from a gorilla."
3.GO (TO THE UNFAMILIAR)
It doesn't have to be literal, this isn't quite Campbell's overdone Hero's Journey, but the idea here is that you take the character and put them in an environment/situation that they're not used to. An environment/situation different than what they're used to from Position 1, and as we learned about in Character 101, this should be filled with challenges big and small for the character.
The comedic route is to make this an issue of extremes - the milquetoast suburbanite in the ghetto, the rugged outdoorsman in the big city, the disconnected pair of lovers in the wilderness, that sort of fish-out-of-water element plays well comically provided you stretch it far.
In more serious work, this represents a larger context for the character - the character leaving their familiar confines for new and larger surroundings. It provides a sense of expansion and intimidation, while also offering hope that along with the challenges come rewards.
4.SEARCH
Here, the character is going to struggle. Not to their lowest point of their progression, hope isn't entirely vacant here, but they will be tested. They will have to adapt to the new environment, and initially that process won't be comfortable. Over time though, they'll become more comfortable and more accustomed to the new environment so that they can expand their comfort level and possibly develop satisfaction in themselves for obtaining new skills.
Position 4 is about the act of the quest, the progression from starting-point to further-along-point and the improvement of the character along the way. This is NOT about the specific item or knowledge that will make them better, because...
5.FIND/DISCOVER
Position 5 is all about the item or knowledge they need to improve. For the stranded castaway, it's the making of fire. For the nervous lawyer in court, it's the discovery of the witness or a legal precedent that will change the tide in their favor.
Critical here though is the idea this: In Position 4, they didn't know the "thing" existed, in Position 5 they find out it exists and....
6.TAKE
In position 6, the hero goes and gets it. He makes fire, she finds the legal precedent, the boy pulls the sword out of the rock. Ideally, Position 6 is made possible because of the confidence gained in Position 4 and the character benefits from the knowledge or awareness in Position 5. This is a pretty "hooray" moment for the character, and can very easily be the climax of the whole story if you wanted it to be, but often this can just be a moment of hooray on the path of the story.
In RPGs, this is the item gained in a dungeon crawl, or the loot from a boss fight.
7.RETURN
The character is confident (Position 4), aware (Position 5) and armed (Position 6), and now they can go back to the environment (Position 3) and complete the plot (Position 2).
Like Orpheus, this is the character's emergence from the trials thus far back to the environment he calls home. In some stories, this means they'll go all the way to the village he was kicked out of or they'll just go back to their "newer" home because they've matured/grown/developed independence from their old ways, and possibly can't go back (either metaphorically or literally).
This can be a whole part of the story, like a return to areas previously thought dangerous now made easier because of equipment and experience gained, or it can be as simple as transitioning the story back to the bigger world.
8.CHANGE.
Lastly, the character is able to take on the plot, and (depending on how you want it to play out) possibly succeed. To reach this point, you had to go through all the preparation of previous positions (alliteration!). Without the equipment/knowledge acquired in Position 6, without the struggles and adaptation to a tougher environment of Position 4, they wouldn't be as ready to take on the plot as they first heard about it back in Position 2.
How would Harry defeat Voldemort without any of the knowledge from the middle of the series? (Sure you can argue that all he needed was 'Expelliarmus' and Horcrux knowledge, but he had to gain those at some point.)
How would Indiana Jones be able to find the Grail without going through the harsh lessons of his youth?
How would James Bond be able to defeat...whoever he defeated if he didn't have the invisible car? (Seriously, dude had an invisible car...and fought someone on a glacier or something. I kinda blanked on some of the Brosnan films)
The point here is that the character has come full circle in some senses, but is on a whole new circle as well. Yes, there's the plot to contend with still, but there's also a visible set of benefits and consequences gained from previous actions. The character has matured, our understanding and appreciation of them has deepened and the story can move forward, through the plot and into resolution. Or even into subsequent stories, if you want to repeat the cycle with a whole new plot, and build forward.
If ANY of this is unclear, let me know. Leave a comment, write me an email, catch me on Twitter.
Happy writing.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Writing/Gaming - Hooks!
What's a hook?
It's a critical pirate element.
It's one half of Velcro Theory.
It's also what gamers need to feel like what they do matters at the table, that it's not just rolling dice, scribbling pencils and a way to spend an evening at a friend's house.
What I'm going to talk about today is types of hooks (for different types of players) and how to figure out how to hook whoever you have at your table (or your future audience).
Now, a disclaimer - I broke gamer-types up into 4 types, just for the ease of writing this blog post, it is BY NO MEANS CONCLUSIVE. I just picked 4 because 4-is-a-nice-number-that-satisfies-my-OCD-eccentricities-no-don't-make-that-face. You may not have ANY of these players at your table or in mind for your audience, and if you have a group that isn't listed here, leave a comment below and/or send me an email, I'll do a follow-up.
I'm supposing here that you're designing your own game, or you've recently picked up a new game and you want to bring players into it.
What do I do for a new player, someone whose never played this game (or any game like it)?
For new players you want to create what I call 'Hooks of Ease'. Regardless of whether or not the player has ever played a game before, you want to make sure that this experience (the experience of playing YOUR game) is easy, so that they come back, or want to play it more.
Hooks of Ease are anything that makes play EASY to do, EASY to understand and EASY to repeat. On a mechanical level, this may be reflected in a lack of complexity or in a straightforward and unvarying checklist of steps.
Example: The GUMSHOE engine uses a six-sided die, terming a roll of 1-3 a failure and 4-6 a success.
Example #2: Most board games have a roll dice/spin the wheel mechanic that doesn't change as play advances.
Hooks of Ease are anything (mechanical, narrative, etc) that create a sense that "I can do this", because encouraging action is the first step to securing enjoyment and immersion. People like to do things (and repeatedly do them) if the task was not complicated, produced a result without too much effort and had a benefit for them.
The vulgar version of this is "If they get it, they'll do it, and want to do it again."
What about rules lawyers who are used to a very literal interpretation and strictly go by-the book?
I know, they're tough. I play with a few, and they can leech the fun out of the room faster than a bad cabbage fart.
The first step is realizing that for ANY type of "difficult" player, you have to remember you are NOT at their mercy. They are not the boss of you, and you cannot let their existence act like an unseen hand in crafting the overall game. In short, you're not playing FOR the rules lawyers of the world, they just happen to be a part of it, like midgets, clowns or the strange guy at the supermarket who talks to the produce as he bags it.
Chances are the rules lawyer is looking for control of the experience. In bad cases, this means they want to be "the guy" at the table (this is not a sexist thing, you can be "the lady" too), meaning all the plot and the decisions of the table go through them. This is likely because outside the game they're unhappy with something, and in this fun-time, they get to correct their unhappiness, even if they do so somewhat obliviously to how the rest of the table may feel about their bluster and possibly douchebaggery.
Hooking the rules lawyer involves Hooks of Consequence. This isn't consequence like punishment, more like an understanding of Newtonian laws -- what the players do will generate reactions/ripples within the world. Knowing that following the rules and still creating good experiences will pacify even the most crusty of rulesmongers.
Narratively, this applies as well. When the player cries foul because the NPC has done X Y or Z, which may be mechanically supported, but not what they're counting on having happen because it means the player(s) (read: they as individuals above all) won't "win", point to the actions that caused the response -- and take note that their narrative argument, the fact that they're bitching at all about what's done, has proven them to be engaged.
Note -- Just remember you don't have to cow to the rules-lawyer or rules-lawyer-bully both at your table and as a designer. Stand up, put down those things at the ends of your legs (we call them feet) and have fun, above all else.
What about the other end of the spectrum, the player who isn't so rules conscientious?
Someone who's just sort of at the table, interested in having a good time but not too terribly invested in knowing that the particular combat mechanic is on page 44, second column 3rd paragraph, or that you can't roll d10 for damage with a short sword, is a good person to have a table, because like the new people, they're often malleable. (Unlike the aforementioned rules-lawyer or the later discussed jaded player who both may just be curmudgeonly or creatively-sedentary). With a good experience you make a light player into someone more serious or more invested, and that's a great thing for your gaming.
What you need to offer them are Hooks of Potential. Like the line in the Aladdin song, you can show them a world...(I'll let you keep singing). By showing that the game has a lot of opportunities to do things (both narrative options in-game and mechanically in-system), you spawn a stream of opportunities and if you pair these with a Hook of Ease, make these opportunities into easy decisions.
Easy decisions become fun decisions very quickly, because they generate consequences and feedback (Are you starting to see how these things all come together?).
Help! I have jaded players (or "I'm writing a game that has a lot of competition in the marketplace!")
I am apparently, a jaded player. I work in the industry, I write/edit/play games with designers and writers, I play multiple games a week if I'm lucky. No, I'm not bragging - I'm telling you that overexposure has dulled my sense of newness. I don't get all aflutter over prestige classes and skill suites. I'm not entirely too jazzed about a constant evolution and progression of medieval and Renaissance fantasy. This tiredness is what drove me towards "indie" gaming - where settings, mechanics and play types are vast and hugely different from game to game and session to session.
I've asked Mike my GM about this, and he's often expressed a concern that I'm bored with traditional model gaming, and I keep telling him I'm not. It's not the game itself (because that's inert), it's how it gets developed at the table. This is the attitude I want to impart to all the designers who think about their game getting into the hands of people who have played more than half their lives or who are developers themselves. What brings the jaded to your game with a spark and interest is a Hook of Demonstration. When they see the game DO something, handle something mechanically, resolve a crisis narratively, introduce elements a certain way, they will sit up and take notice.
This is what happened to me at my first Dresden Files RPG game - I arrived early, and was still eating my turkey club. The GM (not Mike, this was another group) laid out the books and gave each player a legal pad. No dice yet. Just pad and pencil. He also didn't let me crack open the books. Now, this was not typical of this group, who normally get very handsy with materials.
The rest of the players arrived and we got started. And our GM led us through City Creation. (We made some sort of amalgam between Newark, Elizabeth and Hoboken with a smattering of Atlantic City and Cape May -- very different cityscapes within NJ). We consulted no charts, we made no rolls. We did however do a lot of Googling and Wikipedia reading (yes, it's a credible source! Ask your local rockstar librarian!).
I took notice because this allowed me to combine my passions - storytelling, writing, creating with gaming into a new synthesis of awesome. I was no longer jaded (and many months later enjoy the game still).
So we have Hooks of Potential (show them what the game can do), Hooks of Consequence (show them that what THEY do has ramifications, responses and reactions), Hooks of Ease (that it's not hard to try/do these things), and Hooks of Demonstration (show them how the game does something in a way that others don't).
Remember: Hooks are not only mechanical, but can and should also be narrative tools as well. Remember also it is the combination of narrative and mechanics that create the game experience.
Happy (game) writing.
It's a critical pirate element.
It's one half of Velcro Theory.
It's also what gamers need to feel like what they do matters at the table, that it's not just rolling dice, scribbling pencils and a way to spend an evening at a friend's house.
What I'm going to talk about today is types of hooks (for different types of players) and how to figure out how to hook whoever you have at your table (or your future audience).
Now, a disclaimer - I broke gamer-types up into 4 types, just for the ease of writing this blog post, it is BY NO MEANS CONCLUSIVE. I just picked 4 because 4-is-a-nice-number-that-satisfies-my-OCD-eccentricities-no-don't-make-that-face. You may not have ANY of these players at your table or in mind for your audience, and if you have a group that isn't listed here, leave a comment below and/or send me an email, I'll do a follow-up.
I'm supposing here that you're designing your own game, or you've recently picked up a new game and you want to bring players into it.
What do I do for a new player, someone whose never played this game (or any game like it)?
For new players you want to create what I call 'Hooks of Ease'. Regardless of whether or not the player has ever played a game before, you want to make sure that this experience (the experience of playing YOUR game) is easy, so that they come back, or want to play it more.
Hooks of Ease are anything that makes play EASY to do, EASY to understand and EASY to repeat. On a mechanical level, this may be reflected in a lack of complexity or in a straightforward and unvarying checklist of steps.
Example: The GUMSHOE engine uses a six-sided die, terming a roll of 1-3 a failure and 4-6 a success.
Example #2: Most board games have a roll dice/spin the wheel mechanic that doesn't change as play advances.
Hooks of Ease are anything (mechanical, narrative, etc) that create a sense that "I can do this", because encouraging action is the first step to securing enjoyment and immersion. People like to do things (and repeatedly do them) if the task was not complicated, produced a result without too much effort and had a benefit for them.
The vulgar version of this is "If they get it, they'll do it, and want to do it again."
What about rules lawyers who are used to a very literal interpretation and strictly go by-the book?
I know, they're tough. I play with a few, and they can leech the fun out of the room faster than a bad cabbage fart.
The first step is realizing that for ANY type of "difficult" player, you have to remember you are NOT at their mercy. They are not the boss of you, and you cannot let their existence act like an unseen hand in crafting the overall game. In short, you're not playing FOR the rules lawyers of the world, they just happen to be a part of it, like midgets, clowns or the strange guy at the supermarket who talks to the produce as he bags it.
Chances are the rules lawyer is looking for control of the experience. In bad cases, this means they want to be "the guy" at the table (this is not a sexist thing, you can be "the lady" too), meaning all the plot and the decisions of the table go through them. This is likely because outside the game they're unhappy with something, and in this fun-time, they get to correct their unhappiness, even if they do so somewhat obliviously to how the rest of the table may feel about their bluster and possibly douchebaggery.
Hooking the rules lawyer involves Hooks of Consequence. This isn't consequence like punishment, more like an understanding of Newtonian laws -- what the players do will generate reactions/ripples within the world. Knowing that following the rules and still creating good experiences will pacify even the most crusty of rulesmongers.
Narratively, this applies as well. When the player cries foul because the NPC has done X Y or Z, which may be mechanically supported, but not what they're counting on having happen because it means the player(s) (read: they as individuals above all) won't "win", point to the actions that caused the response -- and take note that their narrative argument, the fact that they're bitching at all about what's done, has proven them to be engaged.
Note -- Just remember you don't have to cow to the rules-lawyer or rules-lawyer-bully both at your table and as a designer. Stand up, put down those things at the ends of your legs (we call them feet) and have fun, above all else.
What about the other end of the spectrum, the player who isn't so rules conscientious?
Someone who's just sort of at the table, interested in having a good time but not too terribly invested in knowing that the particular combat mechanic is on page 44, second column 3rd paragraph, or that you can't roll d10 for damage with a short sword, is a good person to have a table, because like the new people, they're often malleable. (Unlike the aforementioned rules-lawyer or the later discussed jaded player who both may just be curmudgeonly or creatively-sedentary). With a good experience you make a light player into someone more serious or more invested, and that's a great thing for your gaming.
What you need to offer them are Hooks of Potential. Like the line in the Aladdin song, you can show them a world...(I'll let you keep singing). By showing that the game has a lot of opportunities to do things (both narrative options in-game and mechanically in-system), you spawn a stream of opportunities and if you pair these with a Hook of Ease, make these opportunities into easy decisions.
Easy decisions become fun decisions very quickly, because they generate consequences and feedback (Are you starting to see how these things all come together?).
Help! I have jaded players (or "I'm writing a game that has a lot of competition in the marketplace!")
I am apparently, a jaded player. I work in the industry, I write/edit/play games with designers and writers, I play multiple games a week if I'm lucky. No, I'm not bragging - I'm telling you that overexposure has dulled my sense of newness. I don't get all aflutter over prestige classes and skill suites. I'm not entirely too jazzed about a constant evolution and progression of medieval and Renaissance fantasy. This tiredness is what drove me towards "indie" gaming - where settings, mechanics and play types are vast and hugely different from game to game and session to session.
I've asked Mike my GM about this, and he's often expressed a concern that I'm bored with traditional model gaming, and I keep telling him I'm not. It's not the game itself (because that's inert), it's how it gets developed at the table. This is the attitude I want to impart to all the designers who think about their game getting into the hands of people who have played more than half their lives or who are developers themselves. What brings the jaded to your game with a spark and interest is a Hook of Demonstration. When they see the game DO something, handle something mechanically, resolve a crisis narratively, introduce elements a certain way, they will sit up and take notice.
This is what happened to me at my first Dresden Files RPG game - I arrived early, and was still eating my turkey club. The GM (not Mike, this was another group) laid out the books and gave each player a legal pad. No dice yet. Just pad and pencil. He also didn't let me crack open the books. Now, this was not typical of this group, who normally get very handsy with materials.
The rest of the players arrived and we got started. And our GM led us through City Creation. (We made some sort of amalgam between Newark, Elizabeth and Hoboken with a smattering of Atlantic City and Cape May -- very different cityscapes within NJ). We consulted no charts, we made no rolls. We did however do a lot of Googling and Wikipedia reading (yes, it's a credible source! Ask your local rockstar librarian!).
I took notice because this allowed me to combine my passions - storytelling, writing, creating with gaming into a new synthesis of awesome. I was no longer jaded (and many months later enjoy the game still).
So we have Hooks of Potential (show them what the game can do), Hooks of Consequence (show them that what THEY do has ramifications, responses and reactions), Hooks of Ease (that it's not hard to try/do these things), and Hooks of Demonstration (show them how the game does something in a way that others don't).
Remember: Hooks are not only mechanical, but can and should also be narrative tools as well. Remember also it is the combination of narrative and mechanics that create the game experience.
Happy (game) writing.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Soundbites and Language
"...a noir taste like we haven't seen in years."
"The impressionistic language dazzles."
"Raw and edgy, this doesn't disappoint."
The problem is that some of the flavors and elements of the whole aren't really great representations of the style, theme or even the author, but they make for dazzling copy, so they get used in quotes and the PR machine and somehow it's okay.
But it's not okay. Just because a review or a quote puts a word-label on something does not mean the item IS that thing. Anything can be mislabeled, mishandled or misunderstood. Now while so far in this post I've talked about the publishing side of the coin, it is also possible that from the authorial side things are misunderstood as well.
What follows are a few items I want to make clear, from both a reader and editorial perspective.
1. Profanity is not proof of hardboiled/noir anything. Yay for swearing. I enjoy a good string of expletives as much as the next guy, and anyone who can curse like a truck-driving sailor on shore leave will always be welcomed into conversation, but it's not a style. It's a string of words that, like adjectives, should be used for maximum impact and effect.
When I was away from home after high school, when I realized I was free of "the man" and had no sense of discipline or boundaries, the first things I wanted to do were all things I couldn't before. Smoking, cursing, drinking, eating whatever I could whenever I wanted, carousing...all the typical adolescent rebellion tripe. And I remember conversations I had when I came back from being away where it seemed as though everything third word rhymed with "trucking" or had something to do with defecation. (See what I did there?)
Was I expressing myself? Sure. Was it effective? It was not compelling more people to listen to me, no. It was not intriguing people to see the college student rattle off eleven curses while ordering an omelet. It didn't do anything to make me more bad-ass or more attractive. Too much cursing is not style. There is an art to language, and while provocative language is one technique, it shouldn't be the only technique, whether we're telling the story of a leg-breaking tough who discovers a dead dame, or whether we're reading about a police station in the grip of a crazed serial killer.
Profanity without purpose are words ripe for deletion when you need to trim fat.
2. The purpose of a book is to tell a story, not drown us in levels of craft-work. This is something I'm very guilty of. And for this, I blame my education. A host of teachers showed me all the different kinds of writing and English-major-y bits (I mean allegory, metonymy, catachresis, foreshadowing, parallelism, semiotics, etc) and I was so eager and happy to dust any and everything I wrote with all these big flashy concepts. This is great IN school, where a professor may actually tell you to use these things because you're getting a grade on how well you specifically use it, but out in the real world of writers and audiences, the great majority of your readers aren't going to care that within Chapter 6 you've created a deeply moving hendiadys (google it) buried within a turn of phrase that is a reference to the plight of the American Indian prior to 1890. No, instead they're just going to see the weird line of dialogue from a character.
2 sobering facts that I still find myself dealing with from time to time:
1. The vast majority of readers isn't aware of all the terms and usages and fiddly bits of language.
2. The vast majority of readers doesn't care about the terms, usages and fiddly bits of language - they want a story.
So for all the great exercising of years of English classes, it's not wasted on the readers, as I'm sure some of them will find, appreciate and digest the nuances, and the studies did make me more capable and diverse as a writer, but I'm not telling stories to practice what I learned in the spring semester of my junior year twice weekly before lunch. I'm telling stories because the characters have something to say and ideas to express as they gnaw their way out of my imagination onto the page.
In short - people are not going to know the hard work that went into the outlines, drafts, and revisions - they're going to see the end result. They may also miss the finer points of your writing prowess because they're engaged elsewhere by story, character or development. Don't hate them for it.
3. If the act of writing has a point, then it's to write to completion not perfection. Some days it feels like I'm forever writing and rewriting the same paragraph, page or chapter. I'm doing all this rewriting because I want, I feel like I need to have each sentence be 'perfect', because that's the only way someone will like it.
But then when I've handed out the first 60 or so pages of what I'm writing, the feedback I'm getting isn't "this is imperfect, you suck, go sit in the corner" it's more like "This is awesome, I want more please" and that's a hard thing to wrap your head around when you grew up feeling like everything you did wasn't good enough and as an adult you question your abilities pretty intensely.
Over time, and with the help of great people, I'm getting better at seeing my work in more appreciative and healthy ways. Sure, it chews a hole through me when it needs to be done, and I should make it more of a priority when I have great swathes of downtime, but I'm not chasing perfection here - I'm telling my story my way, the best way I can.
And that's where the perfection is - in telling my story my way. Not in the constant obsession of perfect grammar, immaculate syntax and brilliant use of obnoxious literary terms.
I will admit that I sort of rambled through this and lost a little steam while writing, but this is definitely a set of topics I'd like to revisit later.
Happy writing.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
By request - Cliffhangers, Endings and "Tying It All Together"
Today's post come from a request made on Twitter by @AprilBrownWrite. Her site is here, and worth a look (also she's really nice, and you should say hi.)
If there's something you'd like to talk about, or want to know more about, you can email me a suggestion or send me a tweet - I'm always looking for new content and new ways help you write better.
April had a question about cliffhangers and how to end things. She wrote me a rather nice email about it, with some pretty good examples, but I think it's easier if we just start with broad topics and then work towards specifics.
So let's lay some groundwork.
What is a cliffhanger?
1. A 'cliffhanger' is caused when you break up an action beat and deny immediate resolution. 'Immediate' here means that in sentence A, you set up the situation and then in Sentence B, you resolve it. These are most often very visual or evocative beats (beats are scenes or moments, I'm going to use that word a lot), and other media (like television) has taught us that cliffhangers are great moments to go to commercial. Books, to date, lack commercials, so often people tend to put cliffhangers at the end of chapters (we'll talk more about that in a minute).
2. A 'cliffhanger' is only as good as the setup BEFORE the action, and the intensity of the resolution AFTER. This might be unclear, but there are ways to illustrate it. The thinking behind a cliffhanger is that you want the reader wondering how the character(s) will get out of whatever situation they've entered. Will Mace Hunter escape being kidnapped by Red Shark's goons? Will the damsel in distress ever get off those damned railroad tracks?
But that's the cut-away-to-commercial moment. That's the cliffhanger itself. It doesn't have any meaning as a cliffhanger until we see it in context. We worry about that damsel on the railroad tracks because prior to that, she was kidnapped in the dead of night by the bad guy. We feel tension for Mace because we watched him get overwhelmed by goons and saw him get sapped from behind. The setup to the cliffhanger moment is critical, if you want us to believe the danger is real.
That's half of it.
The other half is what happens when the character acts to get out of the predicament. If all the damsel has to do is roll to her knees and stand up, the danger isn't so great. If all Mace has to do is jump out of the car in order to make good his escape, then it's less perilous than previously indicated. If the resolution to danger/cliffhanger is not well-developed, then the danger wasn't clearly stated, and the reader isn't going to think it's worth getting scared over.
There is an exercise I recommend. You'll need a note card.
1. Turn the notecard vertically (longways)
2. Divide it into thirds (draw horizontal lines)
3. In the middle third, write the cliffhanger
4. In the bottom third, write the resolution
5. In the top third, write the setup.
So, a cliffhanger for a scene with a damsel tied to railroad track looks like this:
I. Woman is kidnapped
----
II. Woman tied to tracks
----
III. Woman escapes (rope use)
This isn't where you detail it all out, this is where you give yourself a little note of reminder to make sure the setup leads naturally to the danger which segues to the resolution. I tend to find it easier to go from danger to resolution and then reverse-engineer (or hack) the setup to make it sufficiently intense or emotional or whatever the scene needs.
Now, if that's what a cliffhanger is, what do we do with it?
The first rule of cliffhangers is - Not everything is going to be a cliffhanger. It just...can't be that intense all the time. Remember this - "When everything is special, nothing is". You do not need a cliffhanger at the end of every chapter, or at the break in every action. Poor is the reader who believes that your story would be made better by doing this. Find them, shake a fist at them, and tell them they've watched too much TV and probably read too much poor writing.
The second rule of cliffhangers is - They're supposed to be risky. There are no "little" cliffhangers. Just like no one is ever "a little bit pregnant" or "the teensiest bit murderous", little actions do not warrant cliffhangers. Cliffhangers should make you gasp and worry and turn the page excitedly to see what happens next. (Note: I learned this rule as "No one gives a shit about Timmy making toast.") Go big or go home on your cliffhangers.
The third rule of cliffhangers is - There should be a cost. To get out of a risky and dangerous situation, the character should be tested. It should exhaust them to have to climb up a sheer mountainside, it should drain them to have to run as fast as they can to save the other character, it should hurt when they got shot, taking the bullet for their loved ones. A cliffhanger without a cost is just another action beat.
If those are the rules, where do we put cliffhangers?
The short version - put them where they best serve the story. For most (90%) of cases, that's usually at the end of Act 2 or just before the highest point of climax.
The longer version - put them where they matter. NOT at the end of every chapter, or every third chapter when you switch narrators. Use them too much, and they lose impact. Use the cliffhanger as a tool to make the story matter, and to test the characters, not as a way to force the story along or make/force the reader to keep going in the story.
So what does that make all those other endings? If they're not cliffhangers, what are they?
They're endings. Things can just end. It's okay. I promise. What matters is how you daisy-chain these endings into the startings of whatever comes next (I mean otherwise, what, you're writing 4th edition D&D? - gamer joke) so that you're not writing a series of "bubble scenes" but rather a contiguous stream of actions, reactions, and development to make a single complete big bubble of your story.
If you feel that your endings (the physical ones, the emotional ones, etc) HAVE TO BE cliffhangers in order for them to matter in your work, then, honestly you've failed them. You've let them down as scenes in your story and you're not doing your job as the best writer you can be in telling the best story you can.
A well-crafted story should have lots of things that matter, but not all those things are going to be cliffhangers.
So how many cliffhangers should I have in my story?
I don't know, author. Why don't you tell me how many breaths I should take today? There is no magic number. In some stories, you only need one. In some stories you can have one per character arc. In other stories there's one for every character arc, one of the plot and one for theme (I'm looking at you, hundreds-of-pages-long-fantasy-novel-series).
If you've mapped out the story (not the same as outlining it), then you should be able to see where the arc(s) move(s) should take you and the reader from beginning to end of book. Tying it all together is NOT the job of the cliffhanger, but the cliffhanger should signal that SOME element(s) of the story is/are about to change.
I hope this has explained cliffhangers a little bit, April and all those other people who don't know what to do with them. If you need more information, just ask.
Happy writing.
If there's something you'd like to talk about, or want to know more about, you can email me a suggestion or send me a tweet - I'm always looking for new content and new ways help you write better.
April had a question about cliffhangers and how to end things. She wrote me a rather nice email about it, with some pretty good examples, but I think it's easier if we just start with broad topics and then work towards specifics.
So let's lay some groundwork.
What is a cliffhanger?
1. A 'cliffhanger' is caused when you break up an action beat and deny immediate resolution. 'Immediate' here means that in sentence A, you set up the situation and then in Sentence B, you resolve it. These are most often very visual or evocative beats (beats are scenes or moments, I'm going to use that word a lot), and other media (like television) has taught us that cliffhangers are great moments to go to commercial. Books, to date, lack commercials, so often people tend to put cliffhangers at the end of chapters (we'll talk more about that in a minute).
2. A 'cliffhanger' is only as good as the setup BEFORE the action, and the intensity of the resolution AFTER. This might be unclear, but there are ways to illustrate it. The thinking behind a cliffhanger is that you want the reader wondering how the character(s) will get out of whatever situation they've entered. Will Mace Hunter escape being kidnapped by Red Shark's goons? Will the damsel in distress ever get off those damned railroad tracks?
But that's the cut-away-to-commercial moment. That's the cliffhanger itself. It doesn't have any meaning as a cliffhanger until we see it in context. We worry about that damsel on the railroad tracks because prior to that, she was kidnapped in the dead of night by the bad guy. We feel tension for Mace because we watched him get overwhelmed by goons and saw him get sapped from behind. The setup to the cliffhanger moment is critical, if you want us to believe the danger is real.
That's half of it.
The other half is what happens when the character acts to get out of the predicament. If all the damsel has to do is roll to her knees and stand up, the danger isn't so great. If all Mace has to do is jump out of the car in order to make good his escape, then it's less perilous than previously indicated. If the resolution to danger/cliffhanger is not well-developed, then the danger wasn't clearly stated, and the reader isn't going to think it's worth getting scared over.
There is an exercise I recommend. You'll need a note card.
1. Turn the notecard vertically (longways)
2. Divide it into thirds (draw horizontal lines)
3. In the middle third, write the cliffhanger
4. In the bottom third, write the resolution
5. In the top third, write the setup.
So, a cliffhanger for a scene with a damsel tied to railroad track looks like this:
I. Woman is kidnapped
----
II. Woman tied to tracks
----
III. Woman escapes (rope use)
This isn't where you detail it all out, this is where you give yourself a little note of reminder to make sure the setup leads naturally to the danger which segues to the resolution. I tend to find it easier to go from danger to resolution and then reverse-engineer (or hack) the setup to make it sufficiently intense or emotional or whatever the scene needs.
Now, if that's what a cliffhanger is, what do we do with it?
The first rule of cliffhangers is - Not everything is going to be a cliffhanger. It just...can't be that intense all the time. Remember this - "When everything is special, nothing is". You do not need a cliffhanger at the end of every chapter, or at the break in every action. Poor is the reader who believes that your story would be made better by doing this. Find them, shake a fist at them, and tell them they've watched too much TV and probably read too much poor writing.
The second rule of cliffhangers is - They're supposed to be risky. There are no "little" cliffhangers. Just like no one is ever "a little bit pregnant" or "the teensiest bit murderous", little actions do not warrant cliffhangers. Cliffhangers should make you gasp and worry and turn the page excitedly to see what happens next. (Note: I learned this rule as "No one gives a shit about Timmy making toast.") Go big or go home on your cliffhangers.
The third rule of cliffhangers is - There should be a cost. To get out of a risky and dangerous situation, the character should be tested. It should exhaust them to have to climb up a sheer mountainside, it should drain them to have to run as fast as they can to save the other character, it should hurt when they got shot, taking the bullet for their loved ones. A cliffhanger without a cost is just another action beat.
If those are the rules, where do we put cliffhangers?
The short version - put them where they best serve the story. For most (90%) of cases, that's usually at the end of Act 2 or just before the highest point of climax.
The longer version - put them where they matter. NOT at the end of every chapter, or every third chapter when you switch narrators. Use them too much, and they lose impact. Use the cliffhanger as a tool to make the story matter, and to test the characters, not as a way to force the story along or make/force the reader to keep going in the story.
So what does that make all those other endings? If they're not cliffhangers, what are they?
They're endings. Things can just end. It's okay. I promise. What matters is how you daisy-chain these endings into the startings of whatever comes next (I mean otherwise, what, you're writing 4th edition D&D? - gamer joke) so that you're not writing a series of "bubble scenes" but rather a contiguous stream of actions, reactions, and development to make a single complete big bubble of your story.
If you feel that your endings (the physical ones, the emotional ones, etc) HAVE TO BE cliffhangers in order for them to matter in your work, then, honestly you've failed them. You've let them down as scenes in your story and you're not doing your job as the best writer you can be in telling the best story you can.
A well-crafted story should have lots of things that matter, but not all those things are going to be cliffhangers.
So how many cliffhangers should I have in my story?
I don't know, author. Why don't you tell me how many breaths I should take today? There is no magic number. In some stories, you only need one. In some stories you can have one per character arc. In other stories there's one for every character arc, one of the plot and one for theme (I'm looking at you, hundreds-of-pages-long-fantasy-novel-series).
If you've mapped out the story (not the same as outlining it), then you should be able to see where the arc(s) move(s) should take you and the reader from beginning to end of book. Tying it all together is NOT the job of the cliffhanger, but the cliffhanger should signal that SOME element(s) of the story is/are about to change.
I hope this has explained cliffhangers a little bit, April and all those other people who don't know what to do with them. If you need more information, just ask.
Happy writing.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Writing/Gaming - Character 101 - Part 6 - The Relationships
This is Part 6 of the Character 101 Series. The previous parts can be found here.
Here's a brief summary:
Here's a brief summary:
- Characters exist within a world that defines possibilities and suggest challenges
- Characters have a set of abilities that distinguish them within the world and makes the reader want to inject themselves into the story
- Characters are on a path that leads them through more than the book-plot.
- Characters are more than a physical description, they also have mental and emotional attributes worth depiction.
- Characters have a defined morality and philosophy that influences actions and decision-making, in more than just the plot.
Today, we could end Character 101 with this post. And it may end, if the recent traffic is any indication (either what I wrote was too deep or too boring), but let's give today a fair shake.
The last element of Character 101 can be expressed like this:
The character has relationships of varying depths, complexities and degrees so that the reader can see the created-person in a more complete context, and can sympathize/empathize.
It's a little appropriate that it's Valentine's Day as I write this bit about relationships. Today is the day for making mention of your relationships, even though I am of the part of the population that believes that if you're happy with your relationship, every day is/can be Valentine's Day in a new and different way, and that to commercialize love is the lowest form of obnoxious sales tactics and money hungry manipulation. But that's coming from me, so consider your sources......
Characters don't exist in a vacuum, they aren't adrift in some Void-space, they aren't just blobs of ink on the page. (Even if you did hurtle your character into the Void, it's likely you'd still make them think or feel stuff, so there would be some kind of bridge built to other characters). It's about those bridges that I want to focus today.
I am notorious for burning bridges and salting the earth. In the last few weeks, I've been launching an aggressive program to clean that up, because a lot of it comes from this horrifically insecure place and it's all misdirected anger and fear blah blah blah.....but it's really made me take a look at my relationships to other people and see just how I built those connections. (Yes, I did make a chart, shut up. They help).
Some of those connections are great, and I do not want to burn them. Some of these connections are awful, and I should do all that I can to put the past behind me and get some Grand Canyons between me and them. I say this not to bitch about my personal life, but to point out that through these relationships, you can get a sense of who I am and/or what I do and how I do it.
Characters are no different. You can look at their relationships and get a sense of who and what they are. Go get a legal pad, let's make a chart.
The Character Relationship Chart
note: Yes, you can do this more visually in a web, but I'm just blogging here, so I'll work linearly
1. At the top of the page, put the character's name (we'll call him A)
2. Write the name of the other character in the relationship (we'll call him B)with them (then in parentheses, write down the type of relationship next to the name)
3. List then a few phrases, adjectives, quotes or ideas that demonstrate how the character (A) feels about the other. (B)
Skip a line and repeat steps 2 and 3 until you have the character's relationships mapped out. Here's an example:
Character: Gordon Jeremiah Nevins
Bryan Alfred Nevins (brother)
* "What the hell trouble has he gotten himself into this time?"
* "Stupid dumb naive kid, but he's all I got."
* Begrudingly over-protective
* Only acts tired of the relationship.
Wynona (woman he sleeps with)
* Loves her, can't commit to her
* Would take a bullet for her, but wouldn't tell her that, in case someone has a gun handy
* "You look good" = "I love you"
By mapping out the relationships characters have with each other, you're able to also test their philosophies and see their paths play out over the course of the work. If your characters' relationships don't undergo growth from beginning to end (at least ONE of the parties involved has to change a little, otherwise readers are going to feel like they've wasted time and effort getting invested), then the sandbox they play in isn't testing them sufficiently.
Here's an example from my life:
When I was feeling very down, disputatious and grumpy I treated other people poorly, and gave many others the impression that I was in fact, a melo-dramatic asshole with delusions of grandeur. (Or something, I don't know, but it wasn't good). After a few rather intense conversations with people who actually gave a damn about me (rather than just giving a damn about the work I could do, or the benefits I could give them), I started to rehab my image and after some rather big-deal admissions of apology and truth, quite a few people came around. So, because I had a particular philosophy, the world I inhabited tested me a certain way, which lead me down a particular path, that brought me to certain experiences and plots. Only when I made an effort to change, to push myself and change my thinking, did I discover and occupy a new path, that led me to new experiences and plots.
It is through your characters' relationships that readers/players/consumers/others are able to draw a complete picture of the character. Just giving them a description and abilities is nice, but very bland and generic. Even if you throw in a moral code and a path, it's amorphous without a set of relationships to see it explored and strengthened/altered.
The point I'm making here is that all the elements of Character 101 are INTER-RELATED. To make those strong characters for people to gravitate towards, you need lay out all the pieces and get your Frankenstein on (put.the.candle.back.)
There's no doubt in mind that if you take care to go through each step in Character 101, your characters, big and small will exponentially intensify and be far more satisfying to both create and use.
Enjoy your Valentine's Day. Happy writing.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Writing/Gaming - Character 101 - Part 5 - The Path
Good afternoon everyone, I hope you're enjoying the post-Super Bowl glut of breakdowns of commercials and the halftime show. And for the record, I don't know why they did that thing with the thing on that commercial. Yeah, it was unbelievable.
Shall we do some writing today? We're continuing Character 101, you can catch up with Part 4 here.
This is more a "Writing" post. The "Gaming" version will go up later, I'm still putting it together.
Today we're going to look at "The Path", which is the course for the character is on before, during, and after this particular plot of this particular book.
The rule can be expressed like this:
A path, that when started, will lead through the designated plot and result in change (either positive or negative) from his starting state
Characters need to do things. Without actions, characters are formless humps, full of potential, but without the ambition, focus or interest to do anything. Often, people draw up wonderful concepts of characters and fail to deliver on that potential, chiefly because they either set the bar too high (making the character into a superhero, without elevating the plot) or they ignore the plot’s linear motion in an effort to show just how flawed the character is.
There has to be a progression for these characters that starts either on page 1 or even before page 1, and lead them until the last word on the last page, or even beyond. (You can imply or infer that people either began or will continue something when appropriate). I am not suggesting you place the character “on rails”, narrowly limiting the scope of the character growth to a particular strain – a character that only grows through the specific actions you shows is boring, no matter what those actions are, and is also unrealistic.
This path is NOT the plot, as in; it is NOT ONLY the specific actions of the plot (it’s not about ONLY defusing the bomb, saving the woman from the burning building or discovering that he loves babies) but the path of the character must at times join with the plot.
Key words there? “AT TIMES”.
If you rigidly and inflexibly adhere to the plot as the only tool that gives a character growth, then your book is going to be lean, because if you only need a main plot, then absent are the character arcs (which are the native tool for growth) and the sub or secondary plots (which are the native tool for connection between characters and the world). Also, without any deviation or wiggle-room, this main plot better be absolutely riveting, and can NEVER let me go. That’s a great deal of pressure to put on one set of actions. Don’t do it.
Characters in any story are not only limited to the plot, we (the reader) are only meeting/seeing/interacting with the character when they MEET this plot. It’s a snapshot of their life, and we get to tag along for however long or crazy this ride is. This idea that a character is on a particular path greater than the plot is critical for firming up the idea that the character is INDEPENDENT of the plot, and exists, fully-formed in dimension and detail large and small.
Where the character and plot intersect, there has to be an impact, like two items colliding. The plot has to have an effect on the character; otherwise the character has no reason to be invested in it (and neither will the audience). The plot, for all the twists and turns and new scenes it brings to the character is going to change the character. And maybe yes, the plot is going to change that already-started path (redemption is good for this, for example) but for the most part, the plot and this particular book is just a slice or section of the character’s overall path.
Now, to speak more pointedly of the plot, the plot has to matter to the character, because the two form a cycle:
Character Acts to Impact the Plot -->> The Plot Evolves and Presents New Challenges -->> And the Character Acts to Impact the Plot Anew
And the character has to matter to the plot, because if the plot is beyond the scope of the character, then there can be no investment or hope to make a difference. Without the help of the plot, remember, it is just a snapshot of the overall growth, then the character’s growth is stunted.
The path is never fixed, and no end result is guaranteed. But the path contains the plot, and a limitless number of similar conflicts (in terms of emotional or psychological weight, not necessarily the physical events – how many times can terrorists threaten the globe?) If we were to chart it, it would be this:
|| Character at start of the story >> Actions that define who/what the character is based on experiences seen and unseen to date >> Plots that challenge and expand definition >> Continued maturity and resolution of problems >> Character Conclusion ||
The acts that define the character are not necessarily those given at an early age, or through flashback. This is where the developed philosophy of the character is interwoven with the character description and the boundaries of the world to create a character-in-context. Events transpire some large (like the possible plot of this story) and some small (plot of another story) that lead to the evolution of the character in philosophy, action and description. Eventually, the character reaches a point of maturity, having been presented with all manner of challenge and overcome all level of odds. It is at this point, the writer may move on from the character, retiring or killing it off as warranted.
Remember: The path does not have to be positive. Negative traits are as compelling as positive traits (or moreso) depending on how they’re told.
Remember: The path is NOT ONLY the plot.
Remember: All elements of Character 101 work together and regularly intersect. So yes, the Path can be shaped by Morality, Abilities, Description and the character's Sandbox.
Shall we do some writing today? We're continuing Character 101, you can catch up with Part 4 here.
This is more a "Writing" post. The "Gaming" version will go up later, I'm still putting it together.
Today we're going to look at "The Path", which is the course for the character is on before, during, and after this particular plot of this particular book.
The rule can be expressed like this:
A path, that when started, will lead through the designated plot and result in change (either positive or negative) from his starting state
Characters need to do things. Without actions, characters are formless humps, full of potential, but without the ambition, focus or interest to do anything. Often, people draw up wonderful concepts of characters and fail to deliver on that potential, chiefly because they either set the bar too high (making the character into a superhero, without elevating the plot) or they ignore the plot’s linear motion in an effort to show just how flawed the character is.
There has to be a progression for these characters that starts either on page 1 or even before page 1, and lead them until the last word on the last page, or even beyond. (You can imply or infer that people either began or will continue something when appropriate). I am not suggesting you place the character “on rails”, narrowly limiting the scope of the character growth to a particular strain – a character that only grows through the specific actions you shows is boring, no matter what those actions are, and is also unrealistic.
This path is NOT the plot, as in; it is NOT ONLY the specific actions of the plot (it’s not about ONLY defusing the bomb, saving the woman from the burning building or discovering that he loves babies) but the path of the character must at times join with the plot.
Key words there? “AT TIMES”.
If you rigidly and inflexibly adhere to the plot as the only tool that gives a character growth, then your book is going to be lean, because if you only need a main plot, then absent are the character arcs (which are the native tool for growth) and the sub or secondary plots (which are the native tool for connection between characters and the world). Also, without any deviation or wiggle-room, this main plot better be absolutely riveting, and can NEVER let me go. That’s a great deal of pressure to put on one set of actions. Don’t do it.
Characters in any story are not only limited to the plot, we (the reader) are only meeting/seeing/interacting with the character when they MEET this plot. It’s a snapshot of their life, and we get to tag along for however long or crazy this ride is. This idea that a character is on a particular path greater than the plot is critical for firming up the idea that the character is INDEPENDENT of the plot, and exists, fully-formed in dimension and detail large and small.
Where the character and plot intersect, there has to be an impact, like two items colliding. The plot has to have an effect on the character; otherwise the character has no reason to be invested in it (and neither will the audience). The plot, for all the twists and turns and new scenes it brings to the character is going to change the character. And maybe yes, the plot is going to change that already-started path (redemption is good for this, for example) but for the most part, the plot and this particular book is just a slice or section of the character’s overall path.
Now, to speak more pointedly of the plot, the plot has to matter to the character, because the two form a cycle:
Character Acts to Impact the Plot -->> The Plot Evolves and Presents New Challenges -->> And the Character Acts to Impact the Plot Anew
And the character has to matter to the plot, because if the plot is beyond the scope of the character, then there can be no investment or hope to make a difference. Without the help of the plot, remember, it is just a snapshot of the overall growth, then the character’s growth is stunted.
The path is never fixed, and no end result is guaranteed. But the path contains the plot, and a limitless number of similar conflicts (in terms of emotional or psychological weight, not necessarily the physical events – how many times can terrorists threaten the globe?) If we were to chart it, it would be this:
|| Character at start of the story >> Actions that define who/what the character is based on experiences seen and unseen to date >> Plots that challenge and expand definition >> Continued maturity and resolution of problems >> Character Conclusion ||
The acts that define the character are not necessarily those given at an early age, or through flashback. This is where the developed philosophy of the character is interwoven with the character description and the boundaries of the world to create a character-in-context. Events transpire some large (like the possible plot of this story) and some small (plot of another story) that lead to the evolution of the character in philosophy, action and description. Eventually, the character reaches a point of maturity, having been presented with all manner of challenge and overcome all level of odds. It is at this point, the writer may move on from the character, retiring or killing it off as warranted.
Remember: The path does not have to be positive. Negative traits are as compelling as positive traits (or moreso) depending on how they’re told.
Remember: The path is NOT ONLY the plot.
Remember: All elements of Character 101 work together and regularly intersect. So yes, the Path can be shaped by Morality, Abilities, Description and the character's Sandbox.
How have you found your experience with Character 101 to be? I'd love to hear about it. Leave me a comment or find me online.
Happy writing.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Writing/Gaming - Character 101 - Part 4 - Morality
Good morning everyone. We're continuing Character 101 today, so if you need to catch up on the previous posts, go here and here and here.
Today's a little crunchy, so you might want to get a glass of water and read this a few times.
We've so far looked at what can best be described as external qualities. We've talked about the world, some character description and some character abilities. Let's get into this though, let's be serious about our craft and our characters and make these creations live and breathe. I mean, you don't have to, but I think it'll help you out.
Today's Character 101 rule can be expressed like this:
Keywords:
When I was a young writer, I was mentored and taught by a great man, fiercely brilliant, absolutely not governed at all by anything other than his own rules and one of the most encouraging teachers I've ever experienced. He's long dead now, but this lesson, and most of Character 101 is my homage to him.
We start with a quote of his.
"Characters have beliefs; even if they are not expressed by the author or conceived of in great detail there exists within each character a philosophy, even if that character is built with a single purpose or for a single instance. "
What I didn't understand about that quote, where the magic trick is in that quote is the idea that characters have beliefs even if I (the guy who wrote the character) didn't flesh them out.
Hearing that as a punk kid, that sounded stupid. Characters are things I made up, right? They occupy the spaces I give them, do what I tell them? Sure, they can do that. They can be puppets who follow scripts and linear actions like stiff automatons. And when you're a bit of a control freak, or scared to do anything other than express control, that's great for characters.
Move your chess pieces. Watch them dance on your strings.
Over time, with practice, with experience, with heartache, with passion, you don't have to control them. They're more than just extensions of a single part of your personality or just creations who follow some simple program. They are partly fueled by your imagination, and when you take that off the leash, you'll be amazed by what you can discover characters do.
I didn't get that when I younger. It sounded florid and spacy and I probably said it was "kinda gay". And then I grew up and learned that there's more to writing than sitting in place and typing for six hours, but also that there's nothing less than that too.
That quote clicked for me when I was reading a comic book. I was upset, I was alone, I was pissed off, and I was reading Batman. And for whatever reason, perhaps because it was a visual medium, there was more said in a look between characters than you can ever do in a block of text.
It was like the story was occurring even when I wasn't reading the comics. Like the characters had things happening while I was reading Superman, watching TV or wishing I was anywhere other than where I was.
Big click.
When that quote says“explained” it certainly does NOT mean that the simple statement of beliefs is given in exposition, although there are times when it can be advantageous, depending on style or nuance -- But you don't have to have some big block of text saying "THIS IS WHAT I BELIEVE IN" because you're supposed to be better than that.
Leave it for dialogue; leave it for the emotions and subtext. Making it too clear, too visible, when the story by nature does not support it, cheapens it. It turns characters, who you create to be as close or better than humans you co-exist with, into caricatures and parody. And in gaming for example, it makes you sound like one of those bad RPGs where people only can say things like "It is nice day here yes in City?" and other Engrish.
No genre is spared the necessity of characters with morals. Not even in the most lowbrow crude comedy is there a character devoid of ambition based on a belief, even if that belief is something as small and finite as “I’m going to lose my virginity before the end of the school year.”
Everyone believes in something. Figure out what, and you'll also discover how to express that belief to the audience.
So, the question then becomes, how do you create that morality? How do we develop philosophies for characters?
Here are two methods, described below:
&
First we have an action-oriented approach, something that works best for characters of small purpose or minimal import. By looking at their actions, we can develop reasons for the actions, and from those reasons, create a philosophy.
The guy/NPC/background mook who cheers on the heroes during a fight, does it because it shows that the heroes have support. The random person who tells the detective something in passing that resonates seven chapters later. That's an action provoked by a reason that in turn becomes a philosophy.
This is a clear, causal relationship that we can understand especially when not all characters have more than one or two things to do or say.
However, as we add complexity and depth to the characters and situations those characters find themselves in, we must shift from the clear A to B progression and try the reverse: that a stated belief leads to an action.
While this is more complex in a writing capacity, it is more intuitive as people, because we interact with people based on their statements and pursuant to their actions.
You go out with the guy because he makes you laugh because he does what he says he does. You married your spouse because she made you feel something positive on a consistent basis. You hang out with those people because you all share a hobby or believe in the same principles. You think that librarian is great because they helped you when no one else would even give you ten seconds of attention.
You decide what you believe in, then you go do something about it. (Here again, we see Rule #1 - Writing Is The Act of Making Decisions) If you do it, the character(s) can do it.
To reach these decisions, you must BE the character, giving them full faculties and capabilities independent of the story and the context of the story. Yes, you can argue that it is the story that shapes them, therefore you must put them into context, HOWEVER you must divorce the character from the story and the plot when you create the character. The proximity to the current story, and the temptation to use current-story material is too great a risk for the writer: how easily our characters become malleable when viewed only in the current plot.
Because our characters are our reflections, shadows and desires put into text, we must make all efforts to see them as living breathing beings that only happen to exist in our minds. I am not advocating schizophrenia, but rather a full-fledged imaginative experience, creating an idea so complex and rich with detail that it exists for more reasons than a single plot warrants.
Remember: This is a cooperative process, a great contract you’ve entered into with your reader, so please, do your part and make your end as interesting and exciting as possible.
Gamers embody this in the most obvious of ways, assuming to even ACT as the characters to drive the interactions. I do think writers would be well-served to try a little role-play now and then...and if not, at least go talk to people who excite you about whatever you love. It's a lot easier to do this when you're fired up than when you're dreading it.
So what can you do about it? Have you ever tried writing down what you believe in? Get that legal pad, get to writing. Do the same thing for the big characters. Try to do it for the small characters, even if it's just one line (the politician wants to win the election at all costs, the grocer wants to retire happy) related to the plot. The more you can list, the richer that character becomes and the less 'like a character' they are.
I end today with another quote (Sid had great quotes)
"Characters, John, are what we have when we're not thinking about what WE can do but what WE want to make happen."
Happy writing. Enjoy your weekends.
Today's a little crunchy, so you might want to get a glass of water and read this a few times.
We've so far looked at what can best be described as external qualities. We've talked about the world, some character description and some character abilities. Let's get into this though, let's be serious about our craft and our characters and make these creations live and breathe. I mean, you don't have to, but I think it'll help you out.
Today's Character 101 rule can be expressed like this:
A clear and distinct morality, set of principles and philosophy that an audience can see tested and explained throughout the story
Keywords:
- clear and distinct morality
- set of principles and philosophy
- audience sees it tested and explained THROUGHOUT the story
When I was a young writer, I was mentored and taught by a great man, fiercely brilliant, absolutely not governed at all by anything other than his own rules and one of the most encouraging teachers I've ever experienced. He's long dead now, but this lesson, and most of Character 101 is my homage to him.
We start with a quote of his.
"Characters have beliefs; even if they are not expressed by the author or conceived of in great detail there exists within each character a philosophy, even if that character is built with a single purpose or for a single instance. "
What I didn't understand about that quote, where the magic trick is in that quote is the idea that characters have beliefs even if I (the guy who wrote the character) didn't flesh them out.
Hearing that as a punk kid, that sounded stupid. Characters are things I made up, right? They occupy the spaces I give them, do what I tell them? Sure, they can do that. They can be puppets who follow scripts and linear actions like stiff automatons. And when you're a bit of a control freak, or scared to do anything other than express control, that's great for characters.
Move your chess pieces. Watch them dance on your strings.
Over time, with practice, with experience, with heartache, with passion, you don't have to control them. They're more than just extensions of a single part of your personality or just creations who follow some simple program. They are partly fueled by your imagination, and when you take that off the leash, you'll be amazed by what you can discover characters do.
I didn't get that when I younger. It sounded florid and spacy and I probably said it was "kinda gay". And then I grew up and learned that there's more to writing than sitting in place and typing for six hours, but also that there's nothing less than that too.
That quote clicked for me when I was reading a comic book. I was upset, I was alone, I was pissed off, and I was reading Batman. And for whatever reason, perhaps because it was a visual medium, there was more said in a look between characters than you can ever do in a block of text.
It was like the story was occurring even when I wasn't reading the comics. Like the characters had things happening while I was reading Superman, watching TV or wishing I was anywhere other than where I was.
Big click.
When that quote says“explained” it certainly does NOT mean that the simple statement of beliefs is given in exposition, although there are times when it can be advantageous, depending on style or nuance -- But you don't have to have some big block of text saying "THIS IS WHAT I BELIEVE IN" because you're supposed to be better than that.
Leave it for dialogue; leave it for the emotions and subtext. Making it too clear, too visible, when the story by nature does not support it, cheapens it. It turns characters, who you create to be as close or better than humans you co-exist with, into caricatures and parody. And in gaming for example, it makes you sound like one of those bad RPGs where people only can say things like "It is nice day here yes in City?" and other Engrish.
No genre is spared the necessity of characters with morals. Not even in the most lowbrow crude comedy is there a character devoid of ambition based on a belief, even if that belief is something as small and finite as “I’m going to lose my virginity before the end of the school year.”
Everyone believes in something. Figure out what, and you'll also discover how to express that belief to the audience.
So, the question then becomes, how do you create that morality? How do we develop philosophies for characters?
Here are two methods, described below:
Actions -> Reasons for Actions -> Philosophy
(What) (Why Do The What) (What Gets Believed)
&
Stated belief > Action in defense of position
(Say It) (Do Something About It)
First we have an action-oriented approach, something that works best for characters of small purpose or minimal import. By looking at their actions, we can develop reasons for the actions, and from those reasons, create a philosophy.
The guy/NPC/background mook who cheers on the heroes during a fight, does it because it shows that the heroes have support. The random person who tells the detective something in passing that resonates seven chapters later. That's an action provoked by a reason that in turn becomes a philosophy.
This is a clear, causal relationship that we can understand especially when not all characters have more than one or two things to do or say.
However, as we add complexity and depth to the characters and situations those characters find themselves in, we must shift from the clear A to B progression and try the reverse: that a stated belief leads to an action.
While this is more complex in a writing capacity, it is more intuitive as people, because we interact with people based on their statements and pursuant to their actions.
You go out with the guy because he makes you laugh because he does what he says he does. You married your spouse because she made you feel something positive on a consistent basis. You hang out with those people because you all share a hobby or believe in the same principles. You think that librarian is great because they helped you when no one else would even give you ten seconds of attention.
You decide what you believe in, then you go do something about it. (Here again, we see Rule #1 - Writing Is The Act of Making Decisions) If you do it, the character(s) can do it.
To reach these decisions, you must BE the character, giving them full faculties and capabilities independent of the story and the context of the story. Yes, you can argue that it is the story that shapes them, therefore you must put them into context, HOWEVER you must divorce the character from the story and the plot when you create the character. The proximity to the current story, and the temptation to use current-story material is too great a risk for the writer: how easily our characters become malleable when viewed only in the current plot.
Because our characters are our reflections, shadows and desires put into text, we must make all efforts to see them as living breathing beings that only happen to exist in our minds. I am not advocating schizophrenia, but rather a full-fledged imaginative experience, creating an idea so complex and rich with detail that it exists for more reasons than a single plot warrants.
Remember: This is a cooperative process, a great contract you’ve entered into with your reader, so please, do your part and make your end as interesting and exciting as possible.
Gamers embody this in the most obvious of ways, assuming to even ACT as the characters to drive the interactions. I do think writers would be well-served to try a little role-play now and then...and if not, at least go talk to people who excite you about whatever you love. It's a lot easier to do this when you're fired up than when you're dreading it.
So what can you do about it? Have you ever tried writing down what you believe in? Get that legal pad, get to writing. Do the same thing for the big characters. Try to do it for the small characters, even if it's just one line (the politician wants to win the election at all costs, the grocer wants to retire happy) related to the plot. The more you can list, the richer that character becomes and the less 'like a character' they are.
I end today with another quote (Sid had great quotes)
"Characters, John, are what we have when we're not thinking about what WE can do but what WE want to make happen."
Happy writing. Enjoy your weekends.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Writing/Gaming - Character 101 - Part 3: Abilities
We continue our look at Characters today. If you need to catch up - Part 1 and Part 2.
So far we've built a world with challenges for our characters, and we've given our characters some descriptive elements and attributes. Today we're going to start diving into the meat of characters. Today's component usually comes later in the series, but I've moved it ahead because it's a nice springboard into the more detail material.
Component 3 of Character 101 is Abilities, and can be expressed like this:
Ability or abilities that differ from audience experience, such that an audience will desire to be like (or against) the hero.
Put more simply, this means distinguishing themselves from "the crowd" by doing different things than "the crowd".
For superheroes, the answer is obvious - they can fly around and lift buildings. For detectives, they solve crimes. Every character, has some trait marking them as unique...even if that uniqueness is unto themselves. Generally, if you're going to name a character, they've got something worth knowing about. Maybe not on that first page we see them, maybe not even in this plot, but somewhere, you had a thought that a particular character had something to offer.
Gamers, this is where mechanics can tie in - those things characters do, those things that make them unique - there should be mechanics to support them. Even if the mechanics are story telling opportunities or narrative concepts, there should be SOME kind of mechanics making it possible for the players to do it too (because, if you've not figured this out, the players want THEIR characters to be in the spotlight the way a novel's characters are)
When we write these abilities, since we're writing characters that are going to do something, and likely that's something other people won't have a chance to do (otherwise you wouldn't be singling out this character for this story, would you?) the audience has to have a little envy - it adds to appeal.
We read about wizards because we are not wizards. We read about the genius billionaire crime fighter because we don't have a cave and a secret identity. While these characters are like us, they aren't exactly us - their deviance from our norm is what makes them memorable and attractive.
The same can said for villains. The reason we dislike the evil criminal is because he acts in a way we don't and more specifically a way that evokes a reaction from us.
You want to create abilities that evoke reaction from the audience. Ideally, you've also expressed HOW those abilities operate and given good context to express any "rules" for them. (Does flying require sprouting wings? Does the detective use technology to solve his crime? Does the wizard have to shout in a foreign language when obliterating his opponents?).
Sometimes the plot and character will do something and elicit from the audience a strong response. Sometimes it's celebratory (Yay, he blew up the Death Star) sometimes though it's shock (What do you mean he killed himself to save his friends?). When you're able to create a character that evokes that type of response, you know the character is strong in the minds of the reader/audience.
We don't always want to root for the hero. We want the hero to win, we want to be along for the ride, but we need not agree with them every step of the way - and I would go so far as to say we shouldn't always agree.
Just like in television and movies when you yell at the screen, "Of course he's not the father, Maury!" or "Don't go out into the barn to have sex you anonymous attractive teenagers, the killer is out there!" the act of disagreeing with the actions of the hero (on more than a this-is-just-crappy-writing level) shows that the audience is invested.
Gamers, you create investment by offering options. This is not to say you need to offer then a bazillion options, or even the same options as your more successful competitor, but you do need to make the player aware that they can do....stuff. And it's not always the amount of stuff that's important, but more the impact of those options. Anyone can roll a die or move a miniature, but the player who feels that what they do and can do matters to the world they participate in, is invested. That's your goal.
So when crafting the experiences of your readers, players and consumers, look at what the characters do that empowers them to be different and distinguishing. And put the spotlight on it. Everyone will thank you for it.
Later in the week we dive into the much deeper waters of character philosophy (and I'll even talk about alignment for my gaming friends).
Happy writing.
So far we've built a world with challenges for our characters, and we've given our characters some descriptive elements and attributes. Today we're going to start diving into the meat of characters. Today's component usually comes later in the series, but I've moved it ahead because it's a nice springboard into the more detail material.
Component 3 of Character 101 is Abilities, and can be expressed like this:
Ability or abilities that differ from audience experience, such that an audience will desire to be like (or against) the hero.
Put more simply, this means distinguishing themselves from "the crowd" by doing different things than "the crowd".
For superheroes, the answer is obvious - they can fly around and lift buildings. For detectives, they solve crimes. Every character, has some trait marking them as unique...even if that uniqueness is unto themselves. Generally, if you're going to name a character, they've got something worth knowing about. Maybe not on that first page we see them, maybe not even in this plot, but somewhere, you had a thought that a particular character had something to offer.
Gamers, this is where mechanics can tie in - those things characters do, those things that make them unique - there should be mechanics to support them. Even if the mechanics are story telling opportunities or narrative concepts, there should be SOME kind of mechanics making it possible for the players to do it too (because, if you've not figured this out, the players want THEIR characters to be in the spotlight the way a novel's characters are)
When we write these abilities, since we're writing characters that are going to do something, and likely that's something other people won't have a chance to do (otherwise you wouldn't be singling out this character for this story, would you?) the audience has to have a little envy - it adds to appeal.
We read about wizards because we are not wizards. We read about the genius billionaire crime fighter because we don't have a cave and a secret identity. While these characters are like us, they aren't exactly us - their deviance from our norm is what makes them memorable and attractive.
The same can said for villains. The reason we dislike the evil criminal is because he acts in a way we don't and more specifically a way that evokes a reaction from us.
You want to create abilities that evoke reaction from the audience. Ideally, you've also expressed HOW those abilities operate and given good context to express any "rules" for them. (Does flying require sprouting wings? Does the detective use technology to solve his crime? Does the wizard have to shout in a foreign language when obliterating his opponents?).
Sometimes the plot and character will do something and elicit from the audience a strong response. Sometimes it's celebratory (Yay, he blew up the Death Star) sometimes though it's shock (What do you mean he killed himself to save his friends?). When you're able to create a character that evokes that type of response, you know the character is strong in the minds of the reader/audience.
We don't always want to root for the hero. We want the hero to win, we want to be along for the ride, but we need not agree with them every step of the way - and I would go so far as to say we shouldn't always agree.
Just like in television and movies when you yell at the screen, "Of course he's not the father, Maury!" or "Don't go out into the barn to have sex you anonymous attractive teenagers, the killer is out there!" the act of disagreeing with the actions of the hero (on more than a this-is-just-crappy-writing level) shows that the audience is invested.
Gamers, you create investment by offering options. This is not to say you need to offer then a bazillion options, or even the same options as your more successful competitor, but you do need to make the player aware that they can do....stuff. And it's not always the amount of stuff that's important, but more the impact of those options. Anyone can roll a die or move a miniature, but the player who feels that what they do and can do matters to the world they participate in, is invested. That's your goal.
So when crafting the experiences of your readers, players and consumers, look at what the characters do that empowers them to be different and distinguishing. And put the spotlight on it. Everyone will thank you for it.
Later in the week we dive into the much deeper waters of character philosophy (and I'll even talk about alignment for my gaming friends).
Happy writing.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Writing/Gaming - Character 101 Part 2 - Character Description
This is part two of the Character 101 series. The first part is available here.
Earlier this week, we talked about the importance of defining a world and having limitations within that world so that a particular character can be tested, and hopefully overcome those challenges.
While that's great advice, I'm sure many of you have said (and judging by my inbox, some did) "That's great but what about the character? How can the first step in character building be about anything other than characters?"
I point here, as I did to those who asked that for better defined characters, their world is as much a part of them as their clothes or eye color. Batman has Gotham and the Batcave. Superman has Metropolis and Krypton, Harry Dresden has Chicago, Coburn has his apocalypse.
If you can find me a well-crafted character where their world is not a part of them in an intrinsic way, please let me know, I'm curious.
Today, we look at something very concrete and very directly tethered to character.
The rule for part 2 can be summarized like this:
A description that contains audience-relatable elements of either a physical or emotional/mental nature
Your keywords here:
Earlier this week, we talked about the importance of defining a world and having limitations within that world so that a particular character can be tested, and hopefully overcome those challenges.
While that's great advice, I'm sure many of you have said (and judging by my inbox, some did) "That's great but what about the character? How can the first step in character building be about anything other than characters?"
I point here, as I did to those who asked that for better defined characters, their world is as much a part of them as their clothes or eye color. Batman has Gotham and the Batcave. Superman has Metropolis and Krypton, Harry Dresden has Chicago, Coburn has his apocalypse.
If you can find me a well-crafted character where their world is not a part of them in an intrinsic way, please let me know, I'm curious.
Today, we look at something very concrete and very directly tethered to character.
The rule for part 2 can be summarized like this:
A description that contains audience-relatable elements of either a physical or emotional/mental nature
Your keywords here:
- audience-relatable
- physical
- emotional
- mental
We have all read poor character descriptions. I don't mean descriptions that are intentionally undone (where the author chooses not to give details so that the audience can paint their own pictures), I mean descriptions where they give all the components poorly.
Like here:
Terry worked long hours at the dock. He was a blond, although dirty in both hair and skin. He was tall, but no bigger than the others he worked with. He was strong but not weighed down with muscle.
Yes, I made those sentences up, and yes, they're really bad, but they're bad on purpose. Notice how the description starts with Terry's occupation...an all too-common notion is that if we (readers) know what a person does, we can pigeonhole them. (We make blanket statements that someone of X job looks a certain way, or that by describing someone by their profession, we eliminate a lot of other allegedly relevant descriptors -- and by extension, when you mash a profession onto a set of descriptors that seems inappropriate, you create dissonance and a disconnect for readers)
From there, we move into a messy attempt at double-meanings, trying to tie 'dirty blonde' with dirty-from-work. We end with two ruinous sentences where the respective second halves cancel out the first halves. If a character is no taller than others, then they're not tall. 'Tall' is only capable if you have something not-'Tall' for comparison.
When describing something, the majority of the words used can create perspective. And the use of that word creates a proposition that an opposite concept also occurs. (You cannot understand up if you don't know down, or wet without dry). The character doesn't need to exist in both states, but they do need to exist in whatever states you say they do, and consistency is key. If Terry is tall, then he's tall compared to something-to-be-named-later that is "short". Don't trust that the reader will intuit their own perspectives (I'm talking to you game people -- there are mechanics and dice to resolve these issues) and come to the same ideas you have.
If you want the character to be a certain way, be decisive and clear about it. Game people, if you want the players to act a certain way, then you need to be a little obvious that the particular situation you're putting players into has clear options (even if there are many many options, make that clear).
Returning to the specifics of description, readers look for 3 types of description. These don't need to be successive, they're not hierarchical and you don't need to do them all at once, but you do need to do them at some point before you get too far into your work.
I. Physical - This is everything tangible and directly observable about the character. The goal is not to drown the reader in broad information too quickly (then statements get lost and it detracts from importance) but rather provide for them multiple concepts for them to attach to (this is a variation of Velcro theory - you supply them concrete details that they affix their edduced aspirations onto).
II. Emotional - This is a subcutaneous level of description, wherein you describe how the character feels at whatever moment they're being witnessed. If we're on page 30, and the character has just discovered their best friend's wife murdered (hours after sleeping with her), then you can provide us the sum total of emotions up to and including page 30. Yes, this whole story might be resolved by page 340, but here on page 30, we can only work with what we have to date.
Gamers, do not overlook this level of detail - as your NPC emotions are most often impacted by interaction with PCs and all manner of circumstances around pre-existing agendas. (The megalomaniac going to blow up the city is going to have an emotional reaction to the players diffusing his bomb, for example)
III. Mental - This is a harder nut to crack, unless you're writing in the first-person and can use your exposition to develop this. Mental description is a sense of how more than what specifically a character is thinking. Yes, in the immediate sense, the what should be apparent (it's relevant to the scene/moment), but because sometimes characters aren't actually powered with cogs and drive-belts, you only get a secondhand sense of "gears turning".
Mental description is a chance to see the character's planning skills, their intelligence and their understanding of motivations and consequences in action. This is commonly expressed in mysteries as the moment when the sleuth gathers all the suspects together and explains who the killer is. Or the final moments of a heist when the mastermind reveals the plot has been on-going since page one, sentence one.
The composite of these three factors builds a full character. To get you started, here are some questions to fire up your character forges:
I. Physical
- Aside from the obvious details of what the character looks like, what traits are they proud of? Ashamed of? Effort to hide? Effort to show off?
- What things would this character change about their appearance if the circumstances allowed it?
- How important to the character are the aspects of his physical description? Does he value his height? Does he identify himself by his physique? Does she draw pride from her eyes?
II. Emotional
- What gets this character out of bed in the morning? What would send them running back beneath the blankets for a do-over?
- Can you identify your character's three most frequent emotional states? What causes each one?
- Imagine a fight between this character and their nemesis. What buttons are getting pressed, and whose doing the pressing? Now imagine this same fight between this character and someone they loved.
III. Mental
- Is this the sort of character others go to for help and guidance, or is this a character who seeks out others? (Or are they only seeking others out for approval of their own plans?)
- How far ahead does this character plan? Does that plan include contingencies? If you had to sum up the character's planning ability in a word, what word would you use?
- Does this character overthink? Does this character fly by the seat of their pants?
I hope these questions help you, I have others if you're curious.
Next week we'll add more to characters, and I'll revisit our sample character Timmy. Enjoy your weekend.
Happy writing.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Pitch 101 - Part 5: Common Pitch Problems
This is part 5 of an on-going series.
You've come far in this series. We started off learning about the mindset and the basic building block of pitches, the USP (Unique Selling Point), we learned about pitch styles, then the velcro theory and last week we autopsied a pitch to see how one is built from the ground up.
I could end the series now, call it the most popular thing I've ever put on a blog and move on to talking about something else. And, yes, as some of you emailed me, maybe I should. But there's one more stretch of road to talk about, and if I'm going to end this series on the high note I think it deserves, then we have to talk about problems commonly found in pitches.
Yes, I know, there are TONS of variations on the ideas I'm exploring here, but I'm asking you to distill your problems down, concentrate them and strip out the subjective circumstantial material and find the flaw-nugget at the heart of the problem.
I believe there are 6 core problems with pitches, and that the majority of rejections, critiques and thumbs-down all stem from them. I'll outline each, give an example, and a solution.(Yeah this could be a long post, buckle up.)
Note: These problems are not offered in any order of common to least common, or easiest to hardest, they're just....six possible problems.
I. Not getting to the action fast enough. A good pitch uses an economy of words (we'll revisit this idea a lot today), usually between a range 200 and 300 (I like to aim for a sweet spot between 250 and 280), but you can always use fewer if your phrasing is tight (I've seen great pitches done in 60 words). Even with that range, which sounds like a lot (it isn't, it's about a page worth of text, 4 paragraphs maybe), if you don't engage the audience (either evocatively or dynamically), they're not going to want to keep reading or listening to whatever you're saying.
Example: In 1984, Sarah was adopted by Louise and Greg, who lived on a small farm outside Wichita, where they raised cows and grew wheat and lived well. Louise and Greg were a happy couple, never fighting too loud or feeling trapped under some big terrible bills. The farm was successful without being prosperous, and Sarah was very loved and popular and a good student at school. Everything is just great about Sarah, except that she's really a time-traveling death robot sent back in time to prevent the next American Civil War.
Okay, so it's 1984, and these two people adopt a girl, and they live on a farm. I'm already yawning but I'll keep reading, just one more sentence. Oh, they're a happy couple without flaws? That pitch is better than Nyquil. Chances are, the audience checks out about half-way into that second sentence. The fact that she's a death robot is lost. The fact that there will be a second Civil War is also lost.
Solution - Lead with a strong punch. If you have a lot of USPs, this isn't difficult, as you have a lot of options to plug in throughout your pitch. If you're a little thin on USPs, and you can't generate any more, then make sure they're front and center in the pitch. Hit the audience with them, hook them, and get out quickly, before people realize you've only got the two good bullets.
II. Not getting the audience to a character/vibe/POV fast enough. It's not enough to have action (otherwise most pitches would be like those action-sound-effect words from campy Batman), you need to tether the action to something else to make it matter. Who's doing the action? What's the tone caused by the action? What's the tone caused by the consequences of the action? If it's unclear, and leaves the audience scratching their head more than shaking it along with you, then you're going to face rejection.
Example: War! Two raging clans battle in post-apocalyptic Ohio, salvaging whatever raw materials they can to survive the cold nights, radioactive animal attacks and the on-going blood feud between their families that has gone on since before the first mushroom cloud bloomed. No one remembers what started the feud, but people suspect it had something to do with love.
Yeah, that's the whole pitch. If I had to describe with a single word, I'd call it "vague", because even though it's got some racy language (there's a war and a blooming cloud and love), it doesn't actually say anything.
Solution - A two-part strategy - Engage & Lead. Using a combination of USP and evocative language, get the audience's attention and steer them along the path that leads them progressively deeper into your creation and closer to saying 'yes'. Provoke them into thinking and feeling, and tie your actions to characters (and motivations), and make the conflict or goal feel real. Make it interesting! Make the audience care and want to be a part of the experience you're proposing. You can even go one step further and treat the pitch like a movie camera, zooming and racking us into hard focus with a character or scene to immediately connect the audience with a character or idea.
III. Giving too much setup, not enough payoff. Pitches are a tricky balance between informing and intriguing the audience, no matter the media. And the more invested you might be in something, the harder it is for you to have a sense of what is or isn't working in a pitch.
Note: I did not say what's 'good' or 'right' in a pitch because you cannot think of a pitch in terms of the binary good/bad or acceptable/unacceptable or worst (and most vague) okay/not okay. Pitches are more variable and dynamic than that, and there are lots of ways to accomplish the goal - it's more a matter of efficacy and ease for the pitch-giver.
By giving a lot of extraneous detail, and not providing any hooks (remember your Velcro theory) gives the audience nothing to pay attention to or care about. The result is a lost audience.
Example - My board game, 57 Chances To Murder Your Spouse, is a collaborative story-telling game of alibis and plotting where players take turns crafting the best way to receive insurance money without the pesky court trial and corpse discovery. This game was created after my eleventh argument with my spouse, and if you're like me, you're probably wondering why they don't listen to a damned word I say either. I mean all the time, I just asked them for help. Would they swallow this pill and tell me what happens? Could they take this hair dryer into the bathroom with them? Where did they leave the keys? You know, spouse stuff. I've been trying for eight years to get this game produced and I'm sure my hard work has created a product that will absolutely revolutionize Family Game Night.
Solution - Stick to what matters. What matters are the USPs and the emotions you want to instill in your audience. The path you took to reach the point where you could pitch may make for interesting anecdotes or great personal revelations, but it is not a factor for an audience, as nearly everyone can/does spin their story to be the most emotional. What should be emotional is the game (or product) experience itself.
IV. Expecting the audience to "get it" If you've developed something, it's assumed that you're telling interested parties. If you've got a script to sell, you're probably not telling the clown at your son's birthday party. If you've written a novel, the guy who puts the price tag on the pork chops is not going to publish your book. You know who your audience is, but there is a further assumption underneath that - that they will understand what you're talking about.
Specifically, you're not giving them the details relevant to your pitch's concept, because you're assuming they've heard it all before.
Example - My novel is 95,000 words, and has to do with a man, a shovel and his desire to own all the Twinkies. The lonely guy is going to do this because of love. And stuff.
Solution - Now, yes, maybe they have, but the big problem here is that you're doing the thinking for them. Stop assuming the audience has enough information to make the conclusions you need or want them to make, and guarantee they'll connect the dots the way you want by giving them crystal-clear and precise details, without preamble, fluff or excessive sentiment.
V. Beating the dead horse. If you've got few USPs, and even one or two USPs that are much stronger than rest, it is very tempting to use them over and over again to make multiple points. Even by stretching or altering the language, you're still trotting out the same idea to serve many masters.
Example - In my movie, Fisheyes McSweeney 2: Make Easter My Bitch, our hero Fisheyes is released from jail, two years after trying to murder Santa Claus at the suggestion of his black adoptive grandmother. Now Fisheyes is out, and he has to save his buddy Stu from a horrible fate - Easter Dinner. Fisheye's rollicking quest launches him back into action, better than the time he tried to kill Santa. In the end, you'll say, "Fisheyes, I believe in you."
Solution - Remember that there's more than facts to a pitch. Yes, (Dragnet-style) just the facts is a good approach, up to a point, but without emotion to guide and intention to lead, facts are bland and easily worn out. Your facts plus how you want people to feel plus how you feel crafts a good body for your pitch. There's no wrong way to do what you're doing, so feel free to includes facts of all sizes great and small to serve your ends.
VI. Sounding desperate - Pitching is tough and scary, I know. It gets worse when you start thinking about how little speaking experience you may have or just how important this pitch is or how long you may have to wait to get another opportunity and the next thing you know you'reracingthroughallyourwordsandtryingnottosayum.
Example - My novel, Arrow To The Knee, is the story of a man's adventure cut tragically short after an archery accident. It's available in 10 parts on my blog and it's a prequel to my upcoming series 'Now I Guard a Jarl' and I really think you'll enjoy it because it touches on themes we all like, like guarding and Jarls and knees. This is my first attempt at publication, because normally, in my day job, I'm a professional data processor, I process professional data, and my librarian friend said that I should totally talk to you about my book and writing because I'm a writer and you're someone who works with writers and I think this is a great relationship to have.
Solution - Remember that you have more than one chance, ever. When trying to get things published or produced, or when trying to improve in whatever field you're in, you're going to face some adversity and get rejected. People are going to say no, not because you're a horrible person deserving punishment, but because your pitch didn't make them want to say yes. And if person A, B or C reject you, you still have D, E and F to talk to. Even if you run all the way through the list of people, you can always go back to your project, make changes and resubmit again. Remember Rule #3: You're never stuck/trapped, you always have options.
We've reached the end of Pitch 101, and if you go through this series and make good use of the material, you're prepared to tackle a lot of opportunities. Yes, for the curious, there is a Pitch 201, which will very likely end up on this blog eventually, but for now, I think I've drowned you in enough words. The real work begins now.
What are you going to do with this information? That's what matters. Will it help you? Will you shrug it off because it sounds complicated? Will you ignore it because ten other sources have said similar things?
I end today with a reminder of Rule #1 - Writing is the act of making decisions. That includes the decisions about whether to write or not or whether to pitch or not.
Make great decisions.
Happy writing.
You've come far in this series. We started off learning about the mindset and the basic building block of pitches, the USP (Unique Selling Point), we learned about pitch styles, then the velcro theory and last week we autopsied a pitch to see how one is built from the ground up.
I could end the series now, call it the most popular thing I've ever put on a blog and move on to talking about something else. And, yes, as some of you emailed me, maybe I should. But there's one more stretch of road to talk about, and if I'm going to end this series on the high note I think it deserves, then we have to talk about problems commonly found in pitches.
Yes, I know, there are TONS of variations on the ideas I'm exploring here, but I'm asking you to distill your problems down, concentrate them and strip out the subjective circumstantial material and find the flaw-nugget at the heart of the problem.
I believe there are 6 core problems with pitches, and that the majority of rejections, critiques and thumbs-down all stem from them. I'll outline each, give an example, and a solution.(Yeah this could be a long post, buckle up.)
Note: These problems are not offered in any order of common to least common, or easiest to hardest, they're just....six possible problems.
I. Not getting to the action fast enough. A good pitch uses an economy of words (we'll revisit this idea a lot today), usually between a range 200 and 300 (I like to aim for a sweet spot between 250 and 280), but you can always use fewer if your phrasing is tight (I've seen great pitches done in 60 words). Even with that range, which sounds like a lot (it isn't, it's about a page worth of text, 4 paragraphs maybe), if you don't engage the audience (either evocatively or dynamically), they're not going to want to keep reading or listening to whatever you're saying.
Example: In 1984, Sarah was adopted by Louise and Greg, who lived on a small farm outside Wichita, where they raised cows and grew wheat and lived well. Louise and Greg were a happy couple, never fighting too loud or feeling trapped under some big terrible bills. The farm was successful without being prosperous, and Sarah was very loved and popular and a good student at school. Everything is just great about Sarah, except that she's really a time-traveling death robot sent back in time to prevent the next American Civil War.
Okay, so it's 1984, and these two people adopt a girl, and they live on a farm. I'm already yawning but I'll keep reading, just one more sentence. Oh, they're a happy couple without flaws? That pitch is better than Nyquil. Chances are, the audience checks out about half-way into that second sentence. The fact that she's a death robot is lost. The fact that there will be a second Civil War is also lost.
Solution - Lead with a strong punch. If you have a lot of USPs, this isn't difficult, as you have a lot of options to plug in throughout your pitch. If you're a little thin on USPs, and you can't generate any more, then make sure they're front and center in the pitch. Hit the audience with them, hook them, and get out quickly, before people realize you've only got the two good bullets.
II. Not getting the audience to a character/vibe/POV fast enough. It's not enough to have action (otherwise most pitches would be like those action-sound-effect words from campy Batman), you need to tether the action to something else to make it matter. Who's doing the action? What's the tone caused by the action? What's the tone caused by the consequences of the action? If it's unclear, and leaves the audience scratching their head more than shaking it along with you, then you're going to face rejection.
Example: War! Two raging clans battle in post-apocalyptic Ohio, salvaging whatever raw materials they can to survive the cold nights, radioactive animal attacks and the on-going blood feud between their families that has gone on since before the first mushroom cloud bloomed. No one remembers what started the feud, but people suspect it had something to do with love.
Yeah, that's the whole pitch. If I had to describe with a single word, I'd call it "vague", because even though it's got some racy language (there's a war and a blooming cloud and love), it doesn't actually say anything.
Solution - A two-part strategy - Engage & Lead. Using a combination of USP and evocative language, get the audience's attention and steer them along the path that leads them progressively deeper into your creation and closer to saying 'yes'. Provoke them into thinking and feeling, and tie your actions to characters (and motivations), and make the conflict or goal feel real. Make it interesting! Make the audience care and want to be a part of the experience you're proposing. You can even go one step further and treat the pitch like a movie camera, zooming and racking us into hard focus with a character or scene to immediately connect the audience with a character or idea.
III. Giving too much setup, not enough payoff. Pitches are a tricky balance between informing and intriguing the audience, no matter the media. And the more invested you might be in something, the harder it is for you to have a sense of what is or isn't working in a pitch.
Note: I did not say what's 'good' or 'right' in a pitch because you cannot think of a pitch in terms of the binary good/bad or acceptable/unacceptable or worst (and most vague) okay/not okay. Pitches are more variable and dynamic than that, and there are lots of ways to accomplish the goal - it's more a matter of efficacy and ease for the pitch-giver.
By giving a lot of extraneous detail, and not providing any hooks (remember your Velcro theory) gives the audience nothing to pay attention to or care about. The result is a lost audience.
Example - My board game, 57 Chances To Murder Your Spouse, is a collaborative story-telling game of alibis and plotting where players take turns crafting the best way to receive insurance money without the pesky court trial and corpse discovery. This game was created after my eleventh argument with my spouse, and if you're like me, you're probably wondering why they don't listen to a damned word I say either. I mean all the time, I just asked them for help. Would they swallow this pill and tell me what happens? Could they take this hair dryer into the bathroom with them? Where did they leave the keys? You know, spouse stuff. I've been trying for eight years to get this game produced and I'm sure my hard work has created a product that will absolutely revolutionize Family Game Night.
Solution - Stick to what matters. What matters are the USPs and the emotions you want to instill in your audience. The path you took to reach the point where you could pitch may make for interesting anecdotes or great personal revelations, but it is not a factor for an audience, as nearly everyone can/does spin their story to be the most emotional. What should be emotional is the game (or product) experience itself.
IV. Expecting the audience to "get it" If you've developed something, it's assumed that you're telling interested parties. If you've got a script to sell, you're probably not telling the clown at your son's birthday party. If you've written a novel, the guy who puts the price tag on the pork chops is not going to publish your book. You know who your audience is, but there is a further assumption underneath that - that they will understand what you're talking about.
Specifically, you're not giving them the details relevant to your pitch's concept, because you're assuming they've heard it all before.
Example - My novel is 95,000 words, and has to do with a man, a shovel and his desire to own all the Twinkies. The lonely guy is going to do this because of love. And stuff.
Solution - Now, yes, maybe they have, but the big problem here is that you're doing the thinking for them. Stop assuming the audience has enough information to make the conclusions you need or want them to make, and guarantee they'll connect the dots the way you want by giving them crystal-clear and precise details, without preamble, fluff or excessive sentiment.
V. Beating the dead horse. If you've got few USPs, and even one or two USPs that are much stronger than rest, it is very tempting to use them over and over again to make multiple points. Even by stretching or altering the language, you're still trotting out the same idea to serve many masters.
Example - In my movie, Fisheyes McSweeney 2: Make Easter My Bitch, our hero Fisheyes is released from jail, two years after trying to murder Santa Claus at the suggestion of his black adoptive grandmother. Now Fisheyes is out, and he has to save his buddy Stu from a horrible fate - Easter Dinner. Fisheye's rollicking quest launches him back into action, better than the time he tried to kill Santa. In the end, you'll say, "Fisheyes, I believe in you."
Solution - Remember that there's more than facts to a pitch. Yes, (Dragnet-style) just the facts is a good approach, up to a point, but without emotion to guide and intention to lead, facts are bland and easily worn out. Your facts plus how you want people to feel plus how you feel crafts a good body for your pitch. There's no wrong way to do what you're doing, so feel free to includes facts of all sizes great and small to serve your ends.
VI. Sounding desperate - Pitching is tough and scary, I know. It gets worse when you start thinking about how little speaking experience you may have or just how important this pitch is or how long you may have to wait to get another opportunity and the next thing you know you'reracingthroughallyourwordsandtryingnottosayum.
Example - My novel, Arrow To The Knee, is the story of a man's adventure cut tragically short after an archery accident. It's available in 10 parts on my blog and it's a prequel to my upcoming series 'Now I Guard a Jarl' and I really think you'll enjoy it because it touches on themes we all like, like guarding and Jarls and knees. This is my first attempt at publication, because normally, in my day job, I'm a professional data processor, I process professional data, and my librarian friend said that I should totally talk to you about my book and writing because I'm a writer and you're someone who works with writers and I think this is a great relationship to have.
Solution - Remember that you have more than one chance, ever. When trying to get things published or produced, or when trying to improve in whatever field you're in, you're going to face some adversity and get rejected. People are going to say no, not because you're a horrible person deserving punishment, but because your pitch didn't make them want to say yes. And if person A, B or C reject you, you still have D, E and F to talk to. Even if you run all the way through the list of people, you can always go back to your project, make changes and resubmit again. Remember Rule #3: You're never stuck/trapped, you always have options.
We've reached the end of Pitch 101, and if you go through this series and make good use of the material, you're prepared to tackle a lot of opportunities. Yes, for the curious, there is a Pitch 201, which will very likely end up on this blog eventually, but for now, I think I've drowned you in enough words. The real work begins now.
What are you going to do with this information? That's what matters. Will it help you? Will you shrug it off because it sounds complicated? Will you ignore it because ten other sources have said similar things?
I end today with a reminder of Rule #1 - Writing is the act of making decisions. That includes the decisions about whether to write or not or whether to pitch or not.
Make great decisions.
Happy writing.
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