Technology feels like a great trouble when it comes to telling stories. The more technology advances, the harder it becomes to tell timeless stories. If Romeo and Juliet could have texted each other, their story would have ended quite differently. But to write a modern day Romeo and Juliet, the audience would berate it for its stupidity (why didn't they just text each other?).
Some stories, though, have used the same conventions with different technologies for decades. In cop shows, any detective can get any message by picking up their cell phone. Fifteen years ago, cops could get any message by getting a page on their beepers. Thirty years ago, cops could get any message by having another officer find them and announce that there is a message.
Science fiction must have the hardest times. Hard science (being very descriptive on how technology works) tends to look goofy when our real knowledge increases (radiation doesn't give superpowers; give up). Technology ends up being futuristic versions of modern technology, so we have very old science fiction that uses supercomputers that still use magnetic tape. Heck, we still have science fiction with things like floppy disks or CDs. Nobody in the future will be using either of those. We just haven't progressed far enough for it to be laughable yet.
Fantasy seems diametrically opposed to technology, but it also has magic, which is just the softest science out there. Worlds like the one of Harry Potter amuse me because they don't have technology, but have magical equivalents to every piece of tech we could want. And so I ask myself, why the heck not just buy a laptop and email each other instead of sending owls to one another? of course, there is some reason for it (something about electricity not working in magical realms), but really, it's just any excuse to not have redundancy or show that magic is largely useless once technology has reached a certain level.
I find myself usually wanting to write in a throwback time. Something along the lines of the feudal or manorial system. People can farm and build homes out of stone and wood, but no gun powder, no electricity, no fossil fuels. I like these worlds because anything that has to be done has to be done by people. There's no automation and no telecommuting (at least not with any kind of speed). It also prevents me from having to deal with frustrating questions like "why didn't they just text each other?"
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Failed Experiments
I started humming randomly and came up with a four-bar melody I liked (a bar is roughly equivalent to one line of lyrics). I hummed it a few times, then started putting words to it. It ended up sounding like a song that would totally fit in a musical. But I had no idea ow to expand it. The story started with the first line and ended with the last. Anything else would be filler. Well, what if the song only was four bars?
Musicals are always kind of odd because they often have these extended numbers that detract from the story. When the point of a song is that the bad guy is telling the hero that good will never win, it doesn't really take 5 minutes and a half dozen backup dancers. All it takes is four bars.
So, what if I made a musical that only had four-bar songs? The melodies would all be unique, and lyrics couldn't be recycled. There could be 40 songs in the show, maybe 80. It would certainly be an interesting experiment. But would it work?
I think it is not guaranteed to fail, but it would be a stretch. In a musical, there is expected to be a certain amount of extended glitz and glam. A four-bar song doesn't allow the audience to get into the spirit. Instead, it comes off sounding like all the characters in the story just have a strange penchant of singing their thoughts or opinions. It's hardly something people can rock out to, so there is a large amount of people who wouldn't go for it by its very nature. And musical theatre only has so many fans in the first place, so splitting them into smaller groups is pretty sparse in numbers.
But does this mean I shouldn't do it? I don't know. On the one hand, it would certainly save me a lot of time and energy on a project I didn't intend on following through. If I already believe it will fail, it is almost guaranteed to do so. However, there is so much that could be gained from it. On top of the fact that it would be practice in writing, which is always good, it also would give me a chance to understand the mechanics of what I am trying to do better. Even if it ended up being a lousy product, I would know exactly why it was lousy. I would be able to take that knowledge and apply it to all situations similar to it in the future (not to mention the fact that I would be able to identify similar situations far more easily). These are skills and abilities that may actually be worth the trouble.
It's ok if you have an experiment and it fails. You may not use the product, but you will always use the knowledge.
Musicals are always kind of odd because they often have these extended numbers that detract from the story. When the point of a song is that the bad guy is telling the hero that good will never win, it doesn't really take 5 minutes and a half dozen backup dancers. All it takes is four bars.
So, what if I made a musical that only had four-bar songs? The melodies would all be unique, and lyrics couldn't be recycled. There could be 40 songs in the show, maybe 80. It would certainly be an interesting experiment. But would it work?
I think it is not guaranteed to fail, but it would be a stretch. In a musical, there is expected to be a certain amount of extended glitz and glam. A four-bar song doesn't allow the audience to get into the spirit. Instead, it comes off sounding like all the characters in the story just have a strange penchant of singing their thoughts or opinions. It's hardly something people can rock out to, so there is a large amount of people who wouldn't go for it by its very nature. And musical theatre only has so many fans in the first place, so splitting them into smaller groups is pretty sparse in numbers.
But does this mean I shouldn't do it? I don't know. On the one hand, it would certainly save me a lot of time and energy on a project I didn't intend on following through. If I already believe it will fail, it is almost guaranteed to do so. However, there is so much that could be gained from it. On top of the fact that it would be practice in writing, which is always good, it also would give me a chance to understand the mechanics of what I am trying to do better. Even if it ended up being a lousy product, I would know exactly why it was lousy. I would be able to take that knowledge and apply it to all situations similar to it in the future (not to mention the fact that I would be able to identify similar situations far more easily). These are skills and abilities that may actually be worth the trouble.
It's ok if you have an experiment and it fails. You may not use the product, but you will always use the knowledge.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Applied Rhetoric
I think rhetoric is pretty cool stuff. It is the heart of all communication. I enjoy reading and talking about rhetoric, but that is never enough. Rhetoric is always philosophical and theoretical. I never see enough people actually applying their rhetoric.
The irony is that rhetoric is all around us. It's communication, and how often are we ever not communicating? The only question is how well we are doing it.
I think of rhetoric as the art of taking a scene, thought, feeling, or belief that is in your head, and transferring it to another person's head with the least amount of signal decay possible. In that case, you can test yourself in everything you do.
When you tell a story to your friend, how well does your friend get what you said? How many questions need to be answered or reanswered? When you're at work, can you explain something to your boss in a way that is not angering or would do anything else to make or a negative workspace? If you re a salesman, can you communicate that the item you sell really is worth the money and that they would be better off having it?
Talking shop is great, but talk is cheap. If you think you have a firm grasp on how to communicate effectively, then start doing it. The only way to know if your theory is worth a damn is to apply it. Then you know for sure.
The irony is that rhetoric is all around us. It's communication, and how often are we ever not communicating? The only question is how well we are doing it.
I think of rhetoric as the art of taking a scene, thought, feeling, or belief that is in your head, and transferring it to another person's head with the least amount of signal decay possible. In that case, you can test yourself in everything you do.
When you tell a story to your friend, how well does your friend get what you said? How many questions need to be answered or reanswered? When you're at work, can you explain something to your boss in a way that is not angering or would do anything else to make or a negative workspace? If you re a salesman, can you communicate that the item you sell really is worth the money and that they would be better off having it?
Talking shop is great, but talk is cheap. If you think you have a firm grasp on how to communicate effectively, then start doing it. The only way to know if your theory is worth a damn is to apply it. Then you know for sure.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
In Too Deep
How come the group of kids never seem to run out of the haunted mansion? How come the person in an unwinnable fight still fights on to the bitter end? How come the person in a destructive and abusive relationship never leaves it? There are a lot of possible reasons (and as writers, we should consider them all), but one of them is that these people are in too deep.
This is one of those points of surreality. I read a story and I see people making stupid mistake after stupid mistake. Why don't you just say screw it, leave this whole scene, and start again somewhere else? The irony is that these kinds of things really do happen in real life. Sometimes we don't even know why we do it. We can't identify that we're in too deep, we just know that it would be easier to keep going than to cut and run.
If you are trying to be realistic with your writing, it is not a bad thing to have a character like this. But for the sake of the reader, explain it. Subtlety is nice. We don't need it announced that the person is in too deep, but to find a way to show it or have it come up that alternate possibilities exist but are refused would make it more believable and more powerful.
This is one of those points of surreality. I read a story and I see people making stupid mistake after stupid mistake. Why don't you just say screw it, leave this whole scene, and start again somewhere else? The irony is that these kinds of things really do happen in real life. Sometimes we don't even know why we do it. We can't identify that we're in too deep, we just know that it would be easier to keep going than to cut and run.
If you are trying to be realistic with your writing, it is not a bad thing to have a character like this. But for the sake of the reader, explain it. Subtlety is nice. We don't need it announced that the person is in too deep, but to find a way to show it or have it come up that alternate possibilities exist but are refused would make it more believable and more powerful.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Reactions Are Based On Expectations
Sometimes, I do not get the reaction I expected out of people. Whether I tell a joke or state a fact or have them read my stories, people just aren't on the same wavelength. It always comes across as strange, but it occurred to me only today why it happened. People had expectations and got something radically different.
When I tell a joke, but people think I'm being serious, the punchline becomes a horrifying story. If I tell a sincere story that somebody thinks will be funny, they will keep waiting for the punchline and be disappointed when nothing funny is said.
Imagine two people who are close friends. The first one says something surprisingly mean to the second. What the proper reaction? In a sitcom, it would be laughter. In a drama, it would be shock and awe. In real life, it would be either sadness, or anger.
Just as important as telling a powerful story is setting your audience up to receive it.
When I tell a joke, but people think I'm being serious, the punchline becomes a horrifying story. If I tell a sincere story that somebody thinks will be funny, they will keep waiting for the punchline and be disappointed when nothing funny is said.
Imagine two people who are close friends. The first one says something surprisingly mean to the second. What the proper reaction? In a sitcom, it would be laughter. In a drama, it would be shock and awe. In real life, it would be either sadness, or anger.
Just as important as telling a powerful story is setting your audience up to receive it.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Real Life Is Often Like Fiction
Real life is different from fiction. Duh. In real life, people don't have super powers. Giant monsters never attack large cities. Nobody drives up to you in a Ferrari and offers it to you with no strings attached. Nobody spends a night in a haunted mansion on the condition that they get a million dollars if they stay there the whole time. But if you look at the smaller details, life is pretty similar to fiction.
Doesn't it seem like the less likely a situation is to occur, the more likely it is to happen? I swear, the one time you don't look both ways before crossing the street is the one time a car is speeding by and the driver isn't paying attention. Every time I hear a couple having a conversation, one of them says a line straight out of a sitcom and the entire rest of the conversation follows the script.
Maybe it's because we are always looking for patterns, trying to make connections. Maybe it is because art imitates life. For whatever the reason, the next time you have to make a decision, ask yourself, "if I was in a fictional story right now, what would happen?" See how often you're right.
Doesn't it seem like the less likely a situation is to occur, the more likely it is to happen? I swear, the one time you don't look both ways before crossing the street is the one time a car is speeding by and the driver isn't paying attention. Every time I hear a couple having a conversation, one of them says a line straight out of a sitcom and the entire rest of the conversation follows the script.
Maybe it's because we are always looking for patterns, trying to make connections. Maybe it is because art imitates life. For whatever the reason, the next time you have to make a decision, ask yourself, "if I was in a fictional story right now, what would happen?" See how often you're right.
Sometimes Fiction Is Better
When I'm out and about I see people and I wonder what is going on in their lives. I see one person sitting in a coffee shop. She just sits there. Doesn't read a magazine or newspaper. Doesn't order a drink or food. Doesn't pull out a phone or a music player. What is she doing?
Is she homeless? She's nicely dressed, so that's pretty impossible. Well, maybe not. There was a comedian who talked about how somebody thought he was homeless, despite being nicely dressed. "What if he thought this was my first day of homelessness?" This woman could be homeless on her first day. There's nothing to do, nowhere to go, but there's air conditioning and nice music. I wonder how long she can stay there before a worker asks her to buy something or get out.
Maybe she's stalking somebody. Following somebody around all day is too obvious, but if she knows her target's daily activities, she can wait for him to walk by, then casually leave and follow him a little further undetected. Maybe it's not a he. Maybe she's stalking a roommate or a coworker who wronged her.
An hour later, a man walks into the coffee house and the woman stands up to greet him. It was her boyfriend. She came here when she was done at her work and waited for him to be done with his work so they could have a meal together. She didn't call him because she knew it would be a while and she didn't order anything because she didn't want to spoil her appetite. No idea why she didn't read anything or entertain herself by doing anything but stare out the window, but I doubt it would be any exciting.
Sometimes fiction is better. Real life is boring and making stuff up is exciting.
Real life can give you some good ideas for fiction, though. Next time you hear somebody on the phone, try to make up he craziest story for what the person on the other line is saying.
Is she homeless? She's nicely dressed, so that's pretty impossible. Well, maybe not. There was a comedian who talked about how somebody thought he was homeless, despite being nicely dressed. "What if he thought this was my first day of homelessness?" This woman could be homeless on her first day. There's nothing to do, nowhere to go, but there's air conditioning and nice music. I wonder how long she can stay there before a worker asks her to buy something or get out.
Maybe she's stalking somebody. Following somebody around all day is too obvious, but if she knows her target's daily activities, she can wait for him to walk by, then casually leave and follow him a little further undetected. Maybe it's not a he. Maybe she's stalking a roommate or a coworker who wronged her.
An hour later, a man walks into the coffee house and the woman stands up to greet him. It was her boyfriend. She came here when she was done at her work and waited for him to be done with his work so they could have a meal together. She didn't call him because she knew it would be a while and she didn't order anything because she didn't want to spoil her appetite. No idea why she didn't read anything or entertain herself by doing anything but stare out the window, but I doubt it would be any exciting.
Sometimes fiction is better. Real life is boring and making stuff up is exciting.
Real life can give you some good ideas for fiction, though. Next time you hear somebody on the phone, try to make up he craziest story for what the person on the other line is saying.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)