Play/Script

Two questions:

1. How visual should a play be? They've got to rely on the cheapest of tools, good dialogue. But I think visually. How can I put that in my script without stepping on the director's toes?

2. How big is too big, for a play? How many scene changes are too many? How many extras/characters? For a film script, my story is relatively small scale/low budget. But for a play...what's the proper scale?

The Gastault of SHUT UP

I haven't looked at my one finished and semi-polished manuscript in months.

It's not that I haven't been writing; in the meantime, I've "finished" a T.V. script, am going through the first draft of a feature script, "finished" a number of short stories (I was going for fifteen of them, but didn't quite make it), started shooting my clay-mation, and am a third through another manuscript's rough draft.

But this summer, sometime between falling in love (with a person, not book) and taking a beat-down at workshop, I've stopped toying with it, and started avoiding it. Not because I've lost faith in the manuscript, but because it suddenly feels too daunting. The notes for "fixing it" (Draft 1,000,000) are sitting on my desk, and the actual work is buried someplace on my hard-drive.

Yesterday, though, while I was at jury selection (sadly for my research, I didn't actually hear a case) I picked up a short story I'd written a couple months ago. It'd gotten on the page without plotting and without me stopping. When I'd finished the draft, something about it had felt right...

But I decided to put the story away for a bit and forget about it. I've been re-considering my editorial process, and I didn't want this potentially good story to get ripped apart. Yesterday I finally read it, for the first time. Though there were major problems (mostly, the plot is herky jerky), it was a great read! I loved the first half especially. And it had been long enough that I actually didn't remember the story at all, which was fantastic.

I think in editing my manuscript, I cut all the life. I tried so hard to follow the "rules" and only show the "interesting bits" and strengthen the plot, that I edited out the *story.* So with this piece ("Cherub") I'm going to be much gentler.

My process with it now is:
1. Figure out all the characters' arcs.
2. Edit the plot using five-act structure (make sure, mostly, that all the pieces are there, so that the ending is comprehensible).
3. Clarify the most awkward/confusing bits of writing
4. Show it (off?) to a trusted professor
5. Done!

I'm an analytical person, so I like to know why everything works the way it does. But the conscious mind only understands so much--a person can know much more than they can articulate. I've got to start trusting my experience, training, and taste, and forget about justifying everything in the courthouse of my frontal lobe. This story doesn't need to prove itself to anyone--it doesn't have a chance at "perfection," but it does have a chance at being itself.

Beyond this particular story, the hope is: once I've got new editorial confidence and method in place, maybe I won't feel so daunted by the task of infusing life back into my complicated plot-piece of a manuscript. Maybe, in fact, it'll feel natural. And this manuscript will still be something that can connect.

Creative Calisthenics

My strengths:
--dialogue
--action
--ambiguously moral characters
--HUGE plots/premises

My weaknesses:
--interior monologue
--recognizable heroes/villains
--description.

I have the feeling my weaknesses stem from three causes:

1. natural tendencies/taste (hey, I was the archetypal Buffy-verse fan-girl for god's sake--no surprise my stories are packed with talking, fighting, and ammorality).

2. script-writing. In college, most of my focus was theatrical writing, and it (especially television) speaks to me in a way prose doesn't.

3. agent blogs and "how to" writing guides. Reading them has made me so fearful of boring the reader or padding a story or babbling that I've become much MUCH too harsh with my editing. This isn't a new revelation; I gave up reading "how to" books six months or so ago, and agent blogs since mid-summer.

Agents seemed, to me, to give off the impression that they're judges, arbiters of taste, and that my job is to please them. Which requires following the rules and keeping them entertained and blah blah blah. Now, I don't mean that agents feel this way, but rather: in my insecure, people-pleasing, out-of-touch way, I gave up my own agency (!)--my artistic identity and destiny--and tried to pass the responsability of my work to agents by listening to them to my work's detriment. I got scared of making my own rules and going my own way, and tried to use theirs, go theirs. I put them on a pedestal, and ruined my last novel.

Which I'm still coming to terms with. I've spent God knows how long on the edits, and it turns out my rough draft may be better.

So, in my quest to turn that into a good novel instead of a wordy script, I've decided to write in an entirely different way for my NaNo project.

The premise for my NaNo work is something I've wanted to "find time" for since early summer, and I love working on it.

And:
Unlike my previous manuscript, this one is in first person, and only has one main character.
It has clear villains, though they aren't black-hearted black hats (of course)
There is as much description and internal monologue as I can stuff in.

I've already learned that I have much more latent/instinctive knowledge about plot structure than I'd realized, that internal monologue and scene description aren't as frightening or foreign as I'd thought, and that "prep" becomes busy work relatively early in the writing process.

Of course, it's only the middle of week one, and I'm only about 10,000 words in...but so far I've been very pleasantly surprised with what "playing to my weaknesses" really means. Whether or not this manuscript ever comes of anything, it's doing wonders for my confidence and my sense of self as a writer.

i'm going 85 in a 25mph zone

Today, my class workshoped my manuscript's first chapter. This chapter has been my bane for nine months or so, and after having it workshoped four times, I figured this was it-- this was the chapter at its finest.

No.

Basically, they liked what was there, but were utterly lost because of what wasn't. They wanted context on the micro scale (clothes, setting, more speech tags) and on the macro (who is the protagonist?).

I'm crushed.

But after class, some of the students said things that really helped:

--The pace is too fast, and there isn't enough exposition. It reads like a script. A good script, but not a readable prose piece.

--My voice is strong, so I can afford to start a bit slower.

--Start with the main character-- which, in this case, is a virus.

--And read more Stephen King.

I've actually written the (slower) scene they want me to start the story with, and I've got a lot of the exposition in my head. But halfway through the critique, I just felt so lost and frustrated; everyone always says I'm a good writer, but that this isn't my best work. Than what the hell IS my best? I've worked my ass off on this thing!

But by the end of the session, it had become clearer. Guess I'm still too mired in the script mentality-- ie, speed is good, expos is boring.

I've got to commit 100% into this prose thing, or, at least I have to while I'm writing a prose piece. In my heart of hearts, I knew that was true, that I couldn't let go of my script-training; that's why I'm so excited to start my NaNoWriMo project and try a different way of structuring prose, a different focus.

Instead of plotting that one, stepsheet/movie style, I'm working on knowing the characters inside out, creating a VERY basic skeleton, and then working the story out as I go. It'll be much more character based, and have about 1% of my last manuscript's plot.

I'm still going to work on this one, I suppose, though mostly out of obstinance and spite. Hey, every artist has a different but equally valid reason for doing what they do :P

Pain and Perfection

Why is the inner critic such a fucking BITCH?

Can't she just shut the fuck UP sometimes?

Why must she comment on every little thing I do: oooooh, that's ok, for *you* I guess, but it could be better!

I'm drowning her in words to shut her up. 5k/day. Hopefully, I'll kill her outright.

(And that's a perfectly good use of the word "hopefully." It's a minor clause, and creates a certain tone for the sentence. (Many) grammarians agree: it's part of the "honestly" and "frankly" group).

Bye-bye bitch (until I need you again, at the end of the story, and during draft two of my novel).

It's FUCKING HORRIBLE being green

I was thinking about Jane Smiley's A Thousand Acres today, and getting so jealous. Maybe I, too, should lift a plot from Shakespeare and turn it into a Pulitzer Prize.

God knows I can't do it on my own. My plot is turning out to be way too Mafia-- and I'm not at all interested in the Mafia. I get amorality, but immorality, not so much. And I don't get hierarchies at all. Should I throw this plot out and start again? I feel like this is straying incredibly far from my concept, which has to do with genies.

Apparently, a good book writing schedule is: 2 months prep (plotting, note-taking, character bios, etc), 2 months writing, 2 months editing. Does that mean I have a full month left to plot? I might need it. Though the character bios have turned out nicely-- even the Djinn-centric ones.

Maybe it won't be the *mob,* it'll be a corporation. Lately I've been so money hungry (read: broke) that talking business would be fun. And my heroine/love interest is already neck-deep in a medical supply start-up.

Uh oh, maybe I'm more Ayn Rand than Jane Smiley.

And I've NEVER EVER been jealous of Ayn Rand.

So, I guess the point is: I'm intending to work on the plot until I get it right. Which might take a while, because for me, the plot's the toughest part.

The one with the honking nose, luscious lips, sea-foam green eyes, and the daddy issues

How vital is it to describe your characters?

I'm of the "draw your own conclusions" school. I tell you what the characters say and do, and you tell me who and what they are.

To me, when a crit group member says, "I couldn't visualize the character" or "Which one said that?" or "Add more physical description," I think:

The character isn't well enough imagined. His dialogue or actions aren't specific enough. He isn't unique. He isn't yet 3D.

So, I punch up his dialogue, make sure he's conveying his feelings in ways/actions only *he* would. I do *not* add a physical description.

To me, physical descriptions limit a reader's imagination, rather than spark it.

I try to respect the characters, and:
Detailed physical description labels a character, rather than telling the reader about him as a singular being going through a singular story. My characters aren't types-- they're people.

Just like I don't tell my dad about every unruly red hair on my best friend's head while I'm venting to him about what she just did, I don't go into time-wasting and character-degrading description digressions while writing. I only give a general physical sketch when it's vital to the story, and even then, often through the prism of another character's dialogue.

I try to respect the readers, and:
I'd rather err on the side of subtlety. Readers are smart and easily bored-- they *want* to draw their own conclusions. And because I enjoy collaboration between audience/storyteller, *I* want them to have their own interpretation of the story, too.

It's arrogant to think that I fully understand the story I'm telling-- the skills of a literary critic are very different from the skills of a writer. I only (try to) present an enjoyable, clear story to the audience. It's their job (and hopefully, their pleasure) to judge and interpret it... and it's not my place to do their job for them.

I bring this up, because in the Washington Post's piece "Words, Camera, Action!," movie critic Ann Hornaday claims that detailed, ultra-specific physical descriptions of characters are a mark of a good script:

Consider how characters from the hit romantic comedy "He's Just Not That Into You" are introduced in the script: Gigi, "pretty and approachable," Conor, "cute but holding on to his frat boy roots" and Anna, "hot in an earthy sort of way." And compare that level of detail to how writer-director John Patrick Shanley describes Loretta, the leading lady of "Moonstruck," in the first few pages of the script: "Italian, 37. Her hair black, done in a dated style, is flecked with grey. She's dressed in sensible but unfashionable clothes of a dark color."After a few tartly revealing exchanges of dialogue, Shanley writes that Loretta gives a florist "a sudden, brief, blinding smile. It's the first time we've seen her smile. She has gold work around one of her two front teeth." The audience has a clear, indelible, even poignant image of Loretta (ultimately played in an Oscar-winning performance by Cher) as a woman who might be practical and even tough, but whose longing for romance has yet to be completely extinguished. All by the time the opening credits have rolled.

But throwaway physical descripts don't mean throwaway characterization. Detailed, ultra-specific characters are a mark of an excellant story, but their looks have nothing to do with it-- even in a visual medium.

Characters' actions speak louder than their words, and their words louder than their looks.

do you hear the words that are coming out of my mouth

There's always more to pare away.

Hours and hours of editing today, and I'm starting to think I'll never be done.

This is the long, hard slog; the story is finished, the re-writing done. Now all that's left is making the manuscript beautiful.

But everything can always be *more* beautiful, can't it? How do you know when it's lovely enough?

When it stops sounding like speech, and starts sounding like Gertrude Stein. I love the woman, but I don't think an entire book of diamond-sharp sentence fragments would fly. And if you leech all the humanity from a manuscript, why would humans read it? So, I'm polishing until:

1. The action is easy to follow
2. I don't repeat words, and use names as little as possible.
3. The pacing feels right
4. I say all I need to say
5. And no more.

When I've done all I can think of, I make sure I don't have:

1. The same sentence structure too often
2. Too many prepositions
3. Any adverbs
4. Extraneous ANYTHING (sentences and paragraphs, as well as words)

I tend to linger over passages for too long: if it ain't broke... well, I'm no quitter! So, after I've gone through my lists (which usually takes 2-5 days of editing/5-10 pages), I move on-- no exceptions.

Problem is: this week, I'm sending out my first queries. All of which require a writing sample. So I've gone over my first five pages AD NAUSEUM, and-- for once and all-- come to the absolute limit of my abilities. But now I wonder: what about those hundreds of "edited" pages that I haven't given the first five's treatment to?

As Anakin Skywalker would say: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Raw Meat

Have you read Zadie Smith's White Teeth?

It's her debut novel. *Published* when she was twenty-five. God knows how old (young) she was when she wrote it.

White Teeth is so wonderfully written-- the style is beautiful and clear, the characters unique but recognizable, the world fleshed out and fascinating.

What the fuck?

Of course this makes me want to blast all my own writing into oblivion.

Of course, this makes me want to inhale the whole book in one sitting.

Of course, this makes me consider giving up writing forever.

The stranger thing, though:

I've read her third book (she's written three so far), On Beauty, and wasn't all that impressed. Yeah, it was well written, but it wasn't anywhere near as special as White Teeth (it often felt downright pedantic). And the critics didn't exactly slobber all over her second novel, The Autograph Man (which she could only write after a period of writer's block).

Her writing is so *SO* chock full of talent and skill in White Teeth, it shocks me that she *could* even misstep, or let her writing crust over in the way it has.

This just goes to show: raw instinct is just one tool in the writer's arsenal, but it's an essential tool. Humanity is essential to good writing.

I found my friends, they're in my head

Voice is easy, but voices are difficult.

I don't understand the big deal about narrative voice.  Everyone's got a unique way of putting words on the page, just like everybody's got a unique fingerprint.  I only follow two rules:

1.  Sound like yourself.  Sometimes it's fun to get caught up in a super theatrical voice and before you (*cough* read: I *cough*) know it, you've got a whole (condescending) manuscript that's painful to read.  

But your own voice is effortlessly authentic, and you don't need a whole lot of WIZZBANG to make it special.  Didn't you go to the assemblies in elementary school?  You're a unique and beautiful snowflake.  No need for improvement.

2.  When the action heats up, cool the voice down, and vice versa.  The juicier the action, the crisper the tone.  Otherwise everything just gets really confusing or super boring/dry.

The harder you work at your narrative voice, I think, the worse it'll get.  But I'm not so sure how to deal with character voices.

I try to differentiate them, and they all sound theatrical.  I try to make them crisp and authentic, and they all sound alike.  AAACK!  And I used to think dialogue was my strength!

The dialogue is one reason I wanted to give a few manuscript pages to my friends.  Last time my writers' group saw a piece (it was only about four pages long) the consensus was that the characters were hard to differentiate.  Their suggestion was to give each character a out of this world physical trait, so they'd be easier to keep track of, but I knew the problem: though the characters were very different people, they both sounded alike.  

In a long piece with a large(ish) cast of characters, it's tough to remember everyone's vocal tics and way of stringing words together.  I made a cheat sheet, but.... I still don't feel that I've hit it right.

How does anybody else deal with this?

deep throat tells all

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