Posts
A writer needs to choose the right narrator for each story, and each narrative point of view comes with its own perks and pitfalls. Having made the switch to first person narration, I've been very conscious of these details as they come up. Protagonists telling their own story must, by assumption, have gone through it and come out the other end alive. Protagonists can and have died in their own first person narrative, but it's a unique challenge. For the most part, one can assume of first person that the narrator knows what's going to happen (or should, if the author is thinking ahead), and this presents a unique prospect.
In third person, a writer can pull the "little did he know" card, referencing an event the character has no knowledge of, but such a stunt pulls the reader very far from the protagonist's experience, and omniscient narratives just aren't de rigueur these days. In first person, however, this becomes "little did I know," and still in line with the character's narrative -- assuming they don't die before the end of the book of course. This can be a really valuable trick for building tension.
Your protagonist becomes the storyteller, and a capable one at that, since they're weaving 300 pages of tension and intrigue. They know everything that happened, and choose what to share, what to withhold, and when to interject into the narrative. A moment of "had I but known" can be an excellent tool for foreshadowing, and create tension about the unknown even when the plot moves seemingly slow. It lets the reader know cogs are churning, events are unfolding in the background, soon to affect the characters' lives even though our protagonist isn't there to witness them. Jacqueline Carey uses this technique to excellent effect in her Kushiel's Legacy series, using such asides as cues to the reader. If Phedre remarks on the significance of an event, that marks it in the reader's memory and we can understand the need and reason for a scene, and hold on to it for later. In a story built on intrigue, scheming, politics, and long-term plans, such a technique is valuable to hold call attention to all the nuances to be delivered upon later.
At the same time, of course, this sort of "I didn't realize" technique can very, very easily slip into excess. If a protagonist constantly remarks, "I would come to regret that decision," and, "little did I know blue was his favourite colour," and, "that would be the last time I shopped at that grocery store," the reader won't pay attention to any of them. Rather than creating significance, foreshadowing, and mystery, they become repetitive window dressing, cluttering up what might have been a decent story...except we can't see it for all the asides in the way. Narrative foreshadowings at the wrong time can also ruin tension, even if used sparingly. If we're concerned what will happen at the shady rendezvous, and then on the way there the heroine remarks, "little did I know I'd find the answer to all my problems waiting in that back alley," well, now I don't need to turn the page, do I?
In my WIP recently, I toyed with several approaches to a scene and none of them clicked. The first time, I made reference to an off-camera event and described it in a few paragraphs, so the reader would be loaded with knowledge to connect it up later. It felt flat though, and I knew it was too much info at once. So, I tried it shorter, just spelling out what my narrator knew without going into detail, but not having her learn about it at the time. Also wrong. Then when I tried just not having her know, it got even worse, as the scene now just felt utterly pointless. Finally, I realized I needed to blend the two. A quick reference to something that happened, a remark that she figured it didn't matter, and a small aside that she'd turn out to be very wrong about that. It finally clicked, earmarking a detail I can flesh out in time, maintaining an element of tension while a hint of info needed to be dispensed, and kept things moving. It also creates a reflective narrative tone which worked well with my protagonist's mood at the time. In the middle of an action scene, it wouldn't have worked.
How do you feel about 'little did I know' moments in narration? Do they intrigue you, annoy you? Do they work better in first or third person? Have any examples?
November 10, 2009
November 7, 2009
Hayley and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Men
Villains, antiheroes, bad boys, vampires... there's something about a character with a bad streak, or utter repugnance as the case may be, that attracts women. Granted, I think the same can be said for bad women and male readers, but since I'm on this side of the fence, we'll stick to bad guys.
I've read plenty of discussions about the what and why of bad characters, why on earth women go for men who should so obviously be bad choices, and I've tried at various times to articulate an explanation. There's something intriguing to taking an aspect of storytelling that's elusive and ephemeral, and delving under the skin to see what makes it work, as I've done before with villains and antagonists. I don't think it's possible to offer one solid explanation for the reason women of such wildly different tastes and backgrounds may draw to bad characters in fiction (or film, etc), nor would one explanation encompass the wide variety of bad characters out there, but I offer here another possibility or two for your consideration.
From a shared interest in the Dragonball animated series in our teens, to literary works such as Wuthering Heights, Hubby and I have wrestled with seemingly bizarre responses and fandoms surrounding some of the worst possible choices a person might find. Why on earth teenage girls (myself included) would be fond of a short, sour, miserable, not particularly attractive man with a receding hairline (we'll ignore the fact that he's a cartoon, okay?) was a mystery Hubby simply could not understand. He understood why such a character would be cool, badass, but attractive? Um, no. We used to call this phenomenon the Vegeta Factor. Then I introduced Hubby to Mr Heathcliff.
Emily Bronte's tortured character does double duty as both protagonist and antagonist. He's a good sight more attractive, but even more miserable, cruel, downright despicable, and frankly terrifying. I would not want to be alone in a room with this man! Except...damned if I don't love every minute of him in Wuthering Heights , even when he's at his worst. Bronte even shows us how stupid we would be to fall for Heathcliff through Isabella Linton. Isabella talks of how beneath his terrible exterior, Heathcliff could be marvelous to that one woman he loves, and fancies herself becoming that one woman. Instead she becomes abused, terrorized, threatened, tormented, and has a knife hurled at her when she flees at last the manor. All very good arguments, except Isabella was right.
With that one woman, with Catherine, Heathcliff is different. Not changed and sweet and playful, he's still intense, dark, and bruising, but a bruise inflicted in a fit of adoration so intense one can barely control it is quite a different thing from turning blue eyes black now and then out of spite for their resemblance to someone else's eyes. Ah, such passion, such intensity, such larger-than-life love, now that is truly a thing worth getting a-flutter over! Readers can sigh a little over horrible Mr. Heathcliff because we see how he would be with that one great love, bound to the point of digging up her corpse by moonlight to be with her again. The romantic macabre, indeed.
And this is where I think the key is, at least for certain types of bad characters. Like Heathcliff, my teenage cartoon favourite, Vegeta, had a woman. Inexplicably, unexpectedly, halfway through the series he winds up with the most unlikely of women. There's never a hint of affection between them, only fighting and other confrontational domestic bliss, but they have two children, and somehow you just know there's got to be more to him, more going on behind closed doors, because there's no way in HFIL she'd take an inch of legitimate disrespect from any man, even if he can blow up planets.
This exception, the one woman factor, I believe is part one of bad guy appeal. Whether we see proof of them or not, we can wonder, surmise, and hope perhaps this strong, decisive, attractive, but unfortunately jerkass man would be better with that one woman -- perhaps even us. I mean, a girl can fantasize right?
Next week I'll look more at fantasy vs. reality, and buffet syndrome with desirable bad guys. In the mean time, what are your thoughts on bad guy appeal? What draws you to them, or do you only give the time of day to a different type of character?
I've read plenty of discussions about the what and why of bad characters, why on earth women go for men who should so obviously be bad choices, and I've tried at various times to articulate an explanation. There's something intriguing to taking an aspect of storytelling that's elusive and ephemeral, and delving under the skin to see what makes it work, as I've done before with villains and antagonists. I don't think it's possible to offer one solid explanation for the reason women of such wildly different tastes and backgrounds may draw to bad characters in fiction (or film, etc), nor would one explanation encompass the wide variety of bad characters out there, but I offer here another possibility or two for your consideration.
From a shared interest in the Dragonball animated series in our teens, to literary works such as Wuthering Heights, Hubby and I have wrestled with seemingly bizarre responses and fandoms surrounding some of the worst possible choices a person might find. Why on earth teenage girls (myself included) would be fond of a short, sour, miserable, not particularly attractive man with a receding hairline (we'll ignore the fact that he's a cartoon, okay?) was a mystery Hubby simply could not understand. He understood why such a character would be cool, badass, but attractive? Um, no. We used to call this phenomenon the Vegeta Factor. Then I introduced Hubby to Mr Heathcliff.Emily Bronte's tortured character does double duty as both protagonist and antagonist. He's a good sight more attractive, but even more miserable, cruel, downright despicable, and frankly terrifying. I would not want to be alone in a room with this man! Except...damned if I don't love every minute of him in Wuthering Heights , even when he's at his worst. Bronte even shows us how stupid we would be to fall for Heathcliff through Isabella Linton. Isabella talks of how beneath his terrible exterior, Heathcliff could be marvelous to that one woman he loves, and fancies herself becoming that one woman. Instead she becomes abused, terrorized, threatened, tormented, and has a knife hurled at her when she flees at last the manor. All very good arguments, except Isabella was right.
With that one woman, with Catherine, Heathcliff is different. Not changed and sweet and playful, he's still intense, dark, and bruising, but a bruise inflicted in a fit of adoration so intense one can barely control it is quite a different thing from turning blue eyes black now and then out of spite for their resemblance to someone else's eyes. Ah, such passion, such intensity, such larger-than-life love, now that is truly a thing worth getting a-flutter over! Readers can sigh a little over horrible Mr. Heathcliff because we see how he would be with that one great love, bound to the point of digging up her corpse by moonlight to be with her again. The romantic macabre, indeed.
And this is where I think the key is, at least for certain types of bad characters. Like Heathcliff, my teenage cartoon favourite, Vegeta, had a woman. Inexplicably, unexpectedly, halfway through the series he winds up with the most unlikely of women. There's never a hint of affection between them, only fighting and other confrontational domestic bliss, but they have two children, and somehow you just know there's got to be more to him, more going on behind closed doors, because there's no way in HFIL she'd take an inch of legitimate disrespect from any man, even if he can blow up planets.
This exception, the one woman factor, I believe is part one of bad guy appeal. Whether we see proof of them or not, we can wonder, surmise, and hope perhaps this strong, decisive, attractive, but unfortunately jerkass man would be better with that one woman -- perhaps even us. I mean, a girl can fantasize right?
Next week I'll look more at fantasy vs. reality, and buffet syndrome with desirable bad guys. In the mean time, what are your thoughts on bad guy appeal? What draws you to them, or do you only give the time of day to a different type of character?
November 4, 2009
Magic in Ceremony
As readers of this blog know, I'm fond of exploring 'natural' forms of magic. What I mean by that are magical occurrences, supernatural phenomena, folklore, and superstition, that lend a sense of the fantastic to everyday life and can be worth exploring and bringing into a fantasy setting. There's a time and a place for fireballs and conjuring bolts from the blue, but for other times, more subtle forms of magic may be the order of the day.
After convocation last Saturday, I've been thinking about ritual and ceremony, and how these traditions become imbued with almost a form of magic. Take the graduation ceremony, for example. Hum a few bars of Pomp and Circumstance, and one can't help but picture graduands in cap and gown filing in procession. The procession itself symbolizes the transition from a graduand's role as student, to a new role on the other side of that fancy piece of paper. Then, once all the higher-ups -- whose gowns are much snazzier than ours to symbolize their advanced status and knowledge -- file into the auditorium, the invocation begins. And right there, the ceremony becomes magic (in the most non-flashy, sleep-inducing, mind-numbing sense of the word... but seriously, I did enjoy my convocation).
Invocation, convocation, the whole ceremony revolves around calling. At its heart, even though it doesn't happen, graduands are theoretically called together. The chancellor, president, dean, or whomever, then recites the invocation, calling upon some force (God, nature, powers beyond the mists) to recognize and empower. The participants cannot ascend from one state (student) to another state (graduate) without the recognition and assumed participation by some force or another. Any Dungeons and Dragons manual will tell you most spells have an oral component, some word or phrase to be spoken or chanted.
Next, after speeches and the magical bestowing of honorary degrees on people who may or may not have earned them (ta-da! you're a scholar now!), the graduands line up by colleges and engage in another procession onto the stage. Here the oral component continues with the petition, traditional lines recited and replied to, a call and answer. One person (the dean of A&S in my case) presents to the other (the chancellor) the candidates to be named, who have completed all requirements and must now be recognized. The chancellor then acknowledges this, by the authority vested in them, and consents to bestow upon each candidate all powers and rights entitled. Pretty impressive language for a BA.
The candidates then go up one by one and are announced by name, yet another oral component. A person's identity must be said aloud, confirmed, perhaps, to the nebulous force invoked at the beginning of the ceremony, before they proceed to the chancellor, who then bestows all the magic of her office upon that person by touching their hand. Yep, before I got my tangible degree, my modern documentation of graduation, I became a graduate by shaking the hand of a woman in a fancy chair. Don't get me wrong, I'm not undercutting the chancellor's position or duties in the slightest, I'm just dissecting her function and presentation on the stage. The central part of the ceremony involves the donning of a hood (which someone else must do, bestowing its symbolic status upon me), at which time the chancellor extends her hand, offers her congratulations, and allows me to pass off the stage to receive my degree.
The documents people frame and hang in their offices didn't come until we left the stage. The crucial act, the moment people needed to witness, was a moment of physical contact, and a verbal acknowledgement. I don't know about you, but I find this fascinating. Ritual and tradition it may be, but there's something in the combination of these actions that imbues a power to them. Over time, we have deemed these actions the correct way to elevate someone from one state to another. I can't help but wonder what strange power one might see coursing from those freshly sanitized hands (flu season being the bane of multiple handshakes) and into my lowly student frame, transmuting me into something strange and new.
In a fantasy setting, we get the opportunity to delve into that intangible space and see what goes on. Perhaps that moment of transmutation creates a change in body chemistry, or passes some measure of magical essence from one person to another. In that case, might graduations only take place twice a year because the chancellor must take those six months to replenish her strength for another ceremony? Is she really a figure of power then, or a captive used by the university board to confer more academic power and grow an army of alumni, joined in brotherhood and plotting to take over the world?
What then might that imply of other ceremonies? Of weddings, where two people join hands, exchange rings and words, might those actions create a tangible bond, a forced soulmating tying two people together. What then of divorces? Would a piece of paper in the mail have the power to sunder that union? What if that piece of paper was sent without the consent of the couple, would it still sunder their union?
Or think of the crowning of a monarch, and a ruler, like Napoleon, who crowns himself? Where then does the power come from, and who bestows it? Does it place the measure in the man himself, and not from where it originates? What implications might that have for a society entrenched in the rituals and ceremonies of crowning which literally bestows royal power?
If you're interested in more (and far superior) analysis of culture and ritual, I highly recommend Juliette Wade's blog, where she offers great thoughts and considerations for building unique worlds and cultures with or without a touch of magic.
After convocation last Saturday, I've been thinking about ritual and ceremony, and how these traditions become imbued with almost a form of magic. Take the graduation ceremony, for example. Hum a few bars of Pomp and Circumstance, and one can't help but picture graduands in cap and gown filing in procession. The procession itself symbolizes the transition from a graduand's role as student, to a new role on the other side of that fancy piece of paper. Then, once all the higher-ups -- whose gowns are much snazzier than ours to symbolize their advanced status and knowledge -- file into the auditorium, the invocation begins. And right there, the ceremony becomes magic (in the most non-flashy, sleep-inducing, mind-numbing sense of the word... but seriously, I did enjoy my convocation).
Invocation, convocation, the whole ceremony revolves around calling. At its heart, even though it doesn't happen, graduands are theoretically called together. The chancellor, president, dean, or whomever, then recites the invocation, calling upon some force (God, nature, powers beyond the mists) to recognize and empower. The participants cannot ascend from one state (student) to another state (graduate) without the recognition and assumed participation by some force or another. Any Dungeons and Dragons manual will tell you most spells have an oral component, some word or phrase to be spoken or chanted.
Next, after speeches and the magical bestowing of honorary degrees on people who may or may not have earned them (ta-da! you're a scholar now!), the graduands line up by colleges and engage in another procession onto the stage. Here the oral component continues with the petition, traditional lines recited and replied to, a call and answer. One person (the dean of A&S in my case) presents to the other (the chancellor) the candidates to be named, who have completed all requirements and must now be recognized. The chancellor then acknowledges this, by the authority vested in them, and consents to bestow upon each candidate all powers and rights entitled. Pretty impressive language for a BA.
The candidates then go up one by one and are announced by name, yet another oral component. A person's identity must be said aloud, confirmed, perhaps, to the nebulous force invoked at the beginning of the ceremony, before they proceed to the chancellor, who then bestows all the magic of her office upon that person by touching their hand. Yep, before I got my tangible degree, my modern documentation of graduation, I became a graduate by shaking the hand of a woman in a fancy chair. Don't get me wrong, I'm not undercutting the chancellor's position or duties in the slightest, I'm just dissecting her function and presentation on the stage. The central part of the ceremony involves the donning of a hood (which someone else must do, bestowing its symbolic status upon me), at which time the chancellor extends her hand, offers her congratulations, and allows me to pass off the stage to receive my degree.
The documents people frame and hang in their offices didn't come until we left the stage. The crucial act, the moment people needed to witness, was a moment of physical contact, and a verbal acknowledgement. I don't know about you, but I find this fascinating. Ritual and tradition it may be, but there's something in the combination of these actions that imbues a power to them. Over time, we have deemed these actions the correct way to elevate someone from one state to another. I can't help but wonder what strange power one might see coursing from those freshly sanitized hands (flu season being the bane of multiple handshakes) and into my lowly student frame, transmuting me into something strange and new.
In a fantasy setting, we get the opportunity to delve into that intangible space and see what goes on. Perhaps that moment of transmutation creates a change in body chemistry, or passes some measure of magical essence from one person to another. In that case, might graduations only take place twice a year because the chancellor must take those six months to replenish her strength for another ceremony? Is she really a figure of power then, or a captive used by the university board to confer more academic power and grow an army of alumni, joined in brotherhood and plotting to take over the world?
What then might that imply of other ceremonies? Of weddings, where two people join hands, exchange rings and words, might those actions create a tangible bond, a forced soulmating tying two people together. What then of divorces? Would a piece of paper in the mail have the power to sunder that union? What if that piece of paper was sent without the consent of the couple, would it still sunder their union?
Or think of the crowning of a monarch, and a ruler, like Napoleon, who crowns himself? Where then does the power come from, and who bestows it? Does it place the measure in the man himself, and not from where it originates? What implications might that have for a society entrenched in the rituals and ceremonies of crowning which literally bestows royal power?
If you're interested in more (and far superior) analysis of culture and ritual, I highly recommend Juliette Wade's blog, where she offers great thoughts and considerations for building unique worlds and cultures with or without a touch of magic.
November 2, 2009
Now back to our regularly scheduled program
So after a week of radio silence, we're back on the airwaves. Festive treats have been made and subsequently eaten, a wide variety of movies observed, city sights and upended country trucks showcased, and Convocation convoked. I also sustained a first-degree burn on a finger, and then promptly managed to short out a glue gun whilst attaching feathers to a costume. Hayley: still in working order. Glue gun: fried beyond repair. The other appliances better think twice before trying to injure me.
So I've now received all the official pieces of paper, hand shakes, and speeches that transform me from a lowly university-bound specimen to a degree-holding alumni, who will logically now donate vast sums of money back to said university and continue to obtain sundry letters of the alphabet after her name in the hopes of wearing her own set of snazzy, ostentatious robes in front of an auditorium of people.
Maybe later. There's a little thing needs doing before I can lose sanity and several more years of my life within the sadomasochistic taskmaster that is Academia. It's a small thing really, just, you know, a writing career.
I'm taking the next couple days off to wind down the vacation, spend some time with Hubby, and (oh, the anguish) take down all those lovely Hallowe'en decorations. Then I can pile a lovely new bookcase full of fiction, reference material, binders full of notes, and the disparate little figures I've acquired over the years who now finally have a home, and start a fresh manuscript chapter with one gorgeous pen.
In the time I've had to vegetate, unwind, and explain elements of the publishing world, I've also added a few goals to my plate. A few are rather long-term, but the most prevalent -- and potentially exciting -- is the task of reading a book a week... essentially forever. Between all the classic literature I'm assumed to know by dint of my fancy piece of paper, the classic fantasy through my alignment as a lover of the genre, the modern fiction because any self-respecting author should know what's hot at the moment, the scads of reference material that may help my writing, and the things I just want to read for myself ... well, I'll never get through it. Never.
But at least I can make a dent. Something every week, so long as it interests me, and I won't be wasting any more time on books I cannot get into, do not enjoy, or am simply reading because enough people love them that I keep telling myself it's bound to get better eventually. I won't be chronicling everything here, but the ones that strike a particular chord or resonate somehow, I'll put up for review. Everything else will shuffle through my Goodreads list, if anyone's that fascinated with what's on my end table.
To you NaNo writers, best of luck on your considerable challenge this month. For everyone else, what goals have you set for yourself lately? How often do you find the time to read? Are university chancellors imbued with magic powers, that their handshakes can cause transformations?
So I've now received all the official pieces of paper, hand shakes, and speeches that transform me from a lowly university-bound specimen to a degree-holding alumni, who will logically now donate vast sums of money back to said university and continue to obtain sundry letters of the alphabet after her name in the hopes of wearing her own set of snazzy, ostentatious robes in front of an auditorium of people.
Maybe later. There's a little thing needs doing before I can lose sanity and several more years of my life within the sadomasochistic taskmaster that is Academia. It's a small thing really, just, you know, a writing career.
I'm taking the next couple days off to wind down the vacation, spend some time with Hubby, and (oh, the anguish) take down all those lovely Hallowe'en decorations. Then I can pile a lovely new bookcase full of fiction, reference material, binders full of notes, and the disparate little figures I've acquired over the years who now finally have a home, and start a fresh manuscript chapter with one gorgeous pen.
In the time I've had to vegetate, unwind, and explain elements of the publishing world, I've also added a few goals to my plate. A few are rather long-term, but the most prevalent -- and potentially exciting -- is the task of reading a book a week... essentially forever. Between all the classic literature I'm assumed to know by dint of my fancy piece of paper, the classic fantasy through my alignment as a lover of the genre, the modern fiction because any self-respecting author should know what's hot at the moment, the scads of reference material that may help my writing, and the things I just want to read for myself ... well, I'll never get through it. Never.
But at least I can make a dent. Something every week, so long as it interests me, and I won't be wasting any more time on books I cannot get into, do not enjoy, or am simply reading because enough people love them that I keep telling myself it's bound to get better eventually. I won't be chronicling everything here, but the ones that strike a particular chord or resonate somehow, I'll put up for review. Everything else will shuffle through my Goodreads list, if anyone's that fascinated with what's on my end table.
To you NaNo writers, best of luck on your considerable challenge this month. For everyone else, what goals have you set for yourself lately? How often do you find the time to read? Are university chancellors imbued with magic powers, that their handshakes can cause transformations?
October 27, 2009
I have you now, my pretty
Doffing his black hat and cloak, the villain twists his mustache. He explains his dastardly plan in a drawn-out monologue, leaves the villain in an unguarded, slow-moving death trap, and then....! Dresses the captured damsel in a pretty frock.
What?
I understand capturing a female character, and sure, if you've been scheming so long to kill your nemesis via post-it-note-paper-cut-storm you probably haven't had a lot of dinner dates, but seriously, a dress? You're going to stick her in a dress, and torment her with dinner and wine before you ravage her? I mean, honestly, she's not going to consent anyway, and you're already wasting all your time enabling the hero to escape. Wouldn't it just be better to skip the foreplay and get to it?
Something about the arbitrary process of a clothing change seems to appeal to people, both creators and viewers/readers alike. It is, of course, a convenient plot device for giving the hero time to escape, or showing the heroine's cunning and pluck as she tries to outwit the villain herself, but frilly dresses and metal bikinis aren't exclusively necessary for that. After combat, travel, sweat, mud, and the like, we seem to like our characters tidied up a little before we continue. Heroes often get a shiny new wardrobe at this point as well (all the better to die in, my dear) or fancy new cloaks from some Lady of Light in the forest.
Another culprit of this wardrobe change is the princess makeover moment. The tomboy arrives to prom a stunning vision in curls and bare shoulders. The ugly duckling becomes the swan. Hermione does her hair for the Yule Ball in The Goblet of Fire. Some of these are integral to the plot: Belle's dance with the Beast facilitates the final step in their relationship; Andrea Sach's shift from frumpy sweaters to Prada fashion illustrates both the decline in her integrity and her later rejection of that life. Some are necessary only because the plot revolves turning a plain character into a pretty one. Others are completely irrelevant to the plot, and function as sheer indulgence for either writer or reader/viewer.
The common element with these two tropes is the high potential for superfluous time-wasting. If we're just playing dress-up for dress-up's sake, it can disturb character continuity, strain villain motivations, and destroy tension. If you've an urge to furbish your protagonists with snazzy new clothes, send them to the ball, or show they were pretty all along, consider working in a little something more. Give it some context, a reason why the character simply must change attire, or work in an element of symbolism as a change on clothing parallels a change in character. Anything to latch on to beats a metal bikini for a metal bikini's sake.
What dress-up scenes from fiction, film, or television come to mind for you? Which scenes worked within the story, and which felt like filler?
(I'm in the midst of birthday/Convocation/Hallowe'en/family visitations, so I'll reply to comments when I can)
What?
I understand capturing a female character, and sure, if you've been scheming so long to kill your nemesis via post-it-note-paper-cut-storm you probably haven't had a lot of dinner dates, but seriously, a dress? You're going to stick her in a dress, and torment her with dinner and wine before you ravage her? I mean, honestly, she's not going to consent anyway, and you're already wasting all your time enabling the hero to escape. Wouldn't it just be better to skip the foreplay and get to it?
Something about the arbitrary process of a clothing change seems to appeal to people, both creators and viewers/readers alike. It is, of course, a convenient plot device for giving the hero time to escape, or showing the heroine's cunning and pluck as she tries to outwit the villain herself, but frilly dresses and metal bikinis aren't exclusively necessary for that. After combat, travel, sweat, mud, and the like, we seem to like our characters tidied up a little before we continue. Heroes often get a shiny new wardrobe at this point as well (all the better to die in, my dear) or fancy new cloaks from some Lady of Light in the forest.
Another culprit of this wardrobe change is the princess makeover moment. The tomboy arrives to prom a stunning vision in curls and bare shoulders. The ugly duckling becomes the swan. Hermione does her hair for the Yule Ball in The Goblet of Fire. Some of these are integral to the plot: Belle's dance with the Beast facilitates the final step in their relationship; Andrea Sach's shift from frumpy sweaters to Prada fashion illustrates both the decline in her integrity and her later rejection of that life. Some are necessary only because the plot revolves turning a plain character into a pretty one. Others are completely irrelevant to the plot, and function as sheer indulgence for either writer or reader/viewer.
The common element with these two tropes is the high potential for superfluous time-wasting. If we're just playing dress-up for dress-up's sake, it can disturb character continuity, strain villain motivations, and destroy tension. If you've an urge to furbish your protagonists with snazzy new clothes, send them to the ball, or show they were pretty all along, consider working in a little something more. Give it some context, a reason why the character simply must change attire, or work in an element of symbolism as a change on clothing parallels a change in character. Anything to latch on to beats a metal bikini for a metal bikini's sake.
What dress-up scenes from fiction, film, or television come to mind for you? Which scenes worked within the story, and which felt like filler?
(I'm in the midst of birthday/Convocation/Hallowe'en/family visitations, so I'll reply to comments when I can)
October 23, 2009
Women that go bump in the night
White ladies, snow maidens, female voices carrying over the water ... there's just something about the supernatural that gravitates to the female. Granted, I could recount plenty of ghost stories surrounding men (headless on horseback for example), but for the most part, the women come to mind much more readily. When it comes to building the folklore within this manuscript's world, it seems I've developed many more female myths and spectres. So what is it about the female supernatural that intrigues?In horror, the female supernatural often becomes the monster, embodying the terror of the unrestrained woman, or apparently worse, the sexual woman. Just look at Dracula's Lucy, Species' Sil, or Ginger Snaps' Ginger (I apparently watch way more horror than I read). Once the supernatural touches these women, they become unrestrained, focused exclusively on sex...and/or ripping things to pieces...as a form of pleasure. In the realm of ghost stories and the supernatural, we find similar examples in succubi and witches, who give rise to the term 'hag-ridden'. Female creatures who slip inside in the night, have sex with a man, and steal his precious life essence. The terror of the unrestrained female, and a handy explanation for middle of the night embarrassment.
But then there are the non-sexual examples. The eager young brides with grand days stolen from them, and spectral visions wailing over lost children. We ascribe the emotional to the feminine, and so traumatic emotional experiences tend to leave woeful female spirits lingering at crossroads or over water, lamenting their losses. Or, as Angela suggests, men may be more inclined to pursue vengeance rather than turn grief or anger inward. Women, on the other hand, seem to rise from the grave and pursue their vengeance after death. The idea of powerful moments of emotion lingering on aren't exclusively female, spanning from moments of violence to the intense agony of battle, but with the common connection between women and emotion, it's no surprise so many stories have them carrying on those raw emotions after death.
Cautionary tales, gender analysis...perhaps it's simply a good way to balance a culture. When a culture's life seems overly swayed by patriarchal influence, as one may find in history or in a pseudo-historical fantasy setting, peopling the afterlife with female power and influence might help to unify the overall balance across life and death, rather than just in one state. For this manuscript's world, perhaps it's suiting more folktales persist about female spectres when the afterlife as a whole has a female orientation.
What sort of ghosts and spookish creatures do you tend to think of first? Do you find male or female creatures in folklore more intriguing, or do you prefer those monsters without gender?
Photo by night-fate-stock.
October 21, 2009
Writing for Passion
We've touched on rules lately, and spend a fair amount of time here looking at the craft of writing. This is something that's been said on plenty of blogs, in plenty of craft books, and elsewhere, but it's so important it bears worth repeating, and it's something I've been thinking about lately:
Write to feed your passion.
There are so many things that can complicate the writing process, bog down creativity, and stifle progress, it's crucial to keep hold of what really matters. If a writer isn't interested in her own work, there won't be anything worth reading. If a writer is passionate and puts that enthusiasm into the scenes, that enthusiasm shines through in the words, makes the scene crackle, and makes it come alive.
While learning the basics is valuable, blogs can become overwhelming, and replace writing with reading about writing. While a platform can be a smart promotion strategy toward a burgeoning writing career, it's okay to take a step back now and then. If the storytelling process is become frustrating, stressful, or your laundry pile just looks better and better every day, pull back into yourself. Shut yourself up in a cozy room with snacks and drink to fortify, or burrow in a comfy blanket and turn the lights down. Write for yourself, write what thrills you, what makes you ache, and don't worry about anything else.
Plenty of us built forts out of blankets and couch cushions as kids, and sometimes we just need to go back to our own microfiber fortress of solitude, withdraw to our cave and hibernate on our passions. When we come blinking out into the world again, it will be with strengthened resolve.
Perhaps this isn't a problem for you right now, or perhaps it is. If you get bogged down, remember to focus on the passion. If you find others getting bogged down, help refocus them.
What drives your passion to write?
*
(Side Note: Further to last week's post, Breaking the Rules, here is an article by Jane Friedman on The Much Maligned Adverb, another great example of when following the rules goes awry. I particularly love what she says here:
These are the sorts of rules that people embrace not because the rules make sense, but because the rules are absolute. Absolutist rules eliminate that insecurity we feel when we rely on our conscience (in the realm of morality) or our discernment (in the realm of art). Though absolute rules sometimes cause us to behave like we have obsessive-compulsive disorder (or worse), we continue to embrace them, and the world is a less happy place because of it.
This is exactly the issue that came up in our discussion. These conventions (don't use adverbs, end the scene early, don't end a sentence in a preposition) can become treated like absolute rules, and writers either don't use their own discernment to judge whether such a rule will help or hinder their craft, their pacing, or they take them for rote. Even more so, for new writers who are breaking into serious writing and discovering an excess of 'writing rules' on the internet, it can be even more tempting to stick to the rules and feel that any deviation means Bad Writing. As such, I believe examples to the contrary are invaluable, to help accentuate the difference between rules and discernment. If there's a 'rule' you'd like to see discussed in a future post, please feel free to let me know.)
Write to feed your passion.
There are so many things that can complicate the writing process, bog down creativity, and stifle progress, it's crucial to keep hold of what really matters. If a writer isn't interested in her own work, there won't be anything worth reading. If a writer is passionate and puts that enthusiasm into the scenes, that enthusiasm shines through in the words, makes the scene crackle, and makes it come alive.
While learning the basics is valuable, blogs can become overwhelming, and replace writing with reading about writing. While a platform can be a smart promotion strategy toward a burgeoning writing career, it's okay to take a step back now and then. If the storytelling process is become frustrating, stressful, or your laundry pile just looks better and better every day, pull back into yourself. Shut yourself up in a cozy room with snacks and drink to fortify, or burrow in a comfy blanket and turn the lights down. Write for yourself, write what thrills you, what makes you ache, and don't worry about anything else.
Plenty of us built forts out of blankets and couch cushions as kids, and sometimes we just need to go back to our own microfiber fortress of solitude, withdraw to our cave and hibernate on our passions. When we come blinking out into the world again, it will be with strengthened resolve.
Perhaps this isn't a problem for you right now, or perhaps it is. If you get bogged down, remember to focus on the passion. If you find others getting bogged down, help refocus them.
What drives your passion to write?
*
(Side Note: Further to last week's post, Breaking the Rules, here is an article by Jane Friedman on The Much Maligned Adverb, another great example of when following the rules goes awry. I particularly love what she says here:
These are the sorts of rules that people embrace not because the rules make sense, but because the rules are absolute. Absolutist rules eliminate that insecurity we feel when we rely on our conscience (in the realm of morality) or our discernment (in the realm of art). Though absolute rules sometimes cause us to behave like we have obsessive-compulsive disorder (or worse), we continue to embrace them, and the world is a less happy place because of it.
This is exactly the issue that came up in our discussion. These conventions (don't use adverbs, end the scene early, don't end a sentence in a preposition) can become treated like absolute rules, and writers either don't use their own discernment to judge whether such a rule will help or hinder their craft, their pacing, or they take them for rote. Even more so, for new writers who are breaking into serious writing and discovering an excess of 'writing rules' on the internet, it can be even more tempting to stick to the rules and feel that any deviation means Bad Writing. As such, I believe examples to the contrary are invaluable, to help accentuate the difference between rules and discernment. If there's a 'rule' you'd like to see discussed in a future post, please feel free to let me know.)
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