UGH, summarizing

Anyone can tell from my posts that I'm not a short winded thinker. I just can not condense. It can't be done. It just can't! There comes a point where leaving out key information leads to pushing your audience in a direction you didn't mean to, or worse they begin to apply assumptions to your work. I can't stand how whenever I think I've finally broken down something to its basic concept then somebody wants to attach some unrelated idea to it, because then that's all I can focus on and fixing that drives me crazy.

Subtext is important, but it bothers me to no end when people pick up on subtext that isn't meant to be there. It's a good thing I'm taking this writing class, because half the time I feel I have no idea what I'm doing.

Believe It Or Not

Interestingly enough, characters have always been difficult for me to discover. They never really revealed themselves to me naturally. I had to always stop and think, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if…"
Then I'd usually follow that up with adding a whole back story to the character that doesn't fit that character's purpose. It all ended up sounding like a bad fanfic.

Now That I've started having to investigate myself. I'm starting to see what makes people tick. By coming to understand my own flaws, and slowly growing to accept them, creating characters has become much easier for me.

I have been doing a lot of personal reflection lately. I don't always like what I see, but I suppose everyone goes through that. I've been searching to find something I'm supposed to aspire towards becoming, because I feel I need some focus. I've taken to quickly to just criticizing myself and not knowing where to go from there.

On the way home last night, I was driving in my car and an angel came to me. A large owl flew down in front of my windshield, and glided barely a foot away from me down the rest of the street. As I came to a stop at the intersection, it flew off into the neighboring trees. I turned to look back at it as I drove away, and it looked straight back at me as if to say, "It'll be alright. Trust me"

I started doing some research on owls. It turns out that they're a Native American Totem Spirit symbolizing: Insight, Messenger, Wisdom, and Clairvoyance. The meanings vary from different sources, but all seem to share "insight". I do seem spend nearly all of my time investigating or trying to gain a deeper understanding of myself and other people. I know people see connections where they want to, but something here feels right. I need to trust in that.

Ridley Scott's "American Gangster"

I saw this movie for the first time the other day. I have no idea what delayed my having seen this film. It's a masterpiece in every sense of the word. One thing that immediately stood out to me was the use communicating without dialogue. It is a tricky thing to manage, but it was very effective in "American Gangster". I began thinking about how difficult a challenge this can be for a writer to factor in. There are times when I feel pushed to come up with exactly the right words to use, because I know how important a scene is. It is a careful line to walk, but "American Gangster" puts such care into shaping the persona of Frank Lucas, played by Denzel Washington, that those moments of total silence are easily filled by the Frank's own thoughts. Scott places the audience into the main character's head, so that the audience has a clear picture of what goes on in Frank's mind.

This, I think, is the single greatest challenge of any filmmaker or narrative artist. The goal, of course, is to engage and inform the audience of what is happening, but film becomes true art when the creator can immerse the audience and imply subtle details to guide them through a story. Very few audiences enjoy being clobbered over the head with large puzzles that they have to decipher. Showing them all the pieces, then allowing them to watch as they fall into place, is theoretically all you really need. The challenge that lies in this is controlling how much they get to see before the conclusion is revealed.

Bernie "Sly" Sylvester

After playing around with various character ideas, I've finally arrived at something I can stand behind and treasure. This character very much came out of the blue and was an expected find...

Bernie Sylvester is forty-two years young and still the life of the party. Preferring to be known by his street name, Sly, he established himself as a web designer and sound technician within the California music industry. His total lack of any sense of fashion, unshaven legs, sun-kissed aging skin, and wispy combover make him a bizarre sight to behold. However, his charming smile and smooth talking either help you warm up to him, or further encourage you to ignore him and hope he goes away. If you carry on a conversation long enough with Sly, you’ll likely end up hearing about how he dropped out of high school to tour as a roadie for “The Red Hot Chili Peppers”.

While touring with the California born rock band, he met the love of his life, Roxanne. Both of them being on the road at the time, the relationship didn’t last. They still send each other an occasional postcard. Roxanne knows Bernie has big dreams, but a skewed sense of how to realistically pursue them. Sly’s relationships tend to be short lived, but that does not weigh on his heart. As far as he is concerned, he is simply a free spirit. Sly maintains this carefree attitude in many aspects in his life. His most prized possession is a convertible Ford Thunderbird which is mainly held together by shear luck and healthy applications of industrial strength epoxy. Whenever Sly does not have enough money for gas or to tackle the laundry list of repairs his car needs, he gets around by means of skateboarding. Hardly bothered by this, Sly enjoys getting the exercise and sees his hobby of skateboarding as a personal connection with California’s history.

Sly dreams of one day discovering the next major talent in the music world, and acting as their manager to guide them to stardom. Doing what he refers to as “talent scouting”, Sly hosts house parties which attract college students in the area. This provides him the opportunity to present himself as a pathway into the music industry for eager hopefuls. These parties also allow Sly to earn some extra cash by besting inexperienced youth at a few hands of poker. Deep down he has a good heart and hopes to one day make some close friends. He eagerly awaits the day when his dreams of stardom will be realized. Until then, he plans to take life as it comes and keep up with the hustle.

Thoughts On Characters

Working with other people on characters made me think a lot on how I go about forming my own characters. What stereotypes do I tend to fall into, what cliches do I make an effort to avoid, do these decisions strengthen or limit my work? After sitting down with a small writing session, trying to flesh out some characters, I usually lock onto a memory from that character's past and use that to shape them. It's a slippery slope, because it becomes easier to fall into stock characters. I need to allow myself time to sort out a character, because I need to take some time away from these characters and approach them with a fresh mindset. I also need to not be afraid of twisting a character and breaking away from what seems right at first glance.

I need to really ask myself, "Do these qualities make the strongest character I have to offer?" Not to say that all my characters have to be strong, active, major players, but I should give careful thought when putting a piece on the board. Every character should be important to the core story. Obviously, there will be a main character, but all characters should contribute directly to the central idea.

Short Story "The Thing In The Chair Stared At…"

I was given a phrase, "The thing in the chair stared at…" and was asked to write a story in response. Here's what I managed to come up with

The thing in the chair stared at the tears building up in her eyes. All she could do in return was stare back into the darkness, and wait for what she knew to be the inevitable end. Forcing herself not to cry, Madalyn could feel the thing’s penetrating gaze carefully study her. she winced and tightly shut her eyes. Madalyn’s other senses intensified, which only made its presence more terrifying. She could hear the harsh creaking of the chair as it stood up. She could feel the vibrations in the floor as it trudged towards her. Worst of all, as it moved closer still, she began to smell a foul odor in the air. An odor she was sure could only be the scent of blood. Sensing the beast to be within inches of her, Madalyn fell to her knees and held her breath.

A moment passed. Nothing. She could still sense the ominous creature towering over her, but nothing beyond that fact. Feeling the air in her lungs running out, she tightly curled up hoping to hold onto this last moment. Silently, Madalyn wished that she could somehow will herself away from this place. How did she even get into this situation? She thought back to her friends, and how they waved goodbye earlier that day not knowing it would be the last time. What possessed her to take that shortcut home? If only she could see them again; just to tell them how special each of them are too her. Hours seemed to pass in those few seconds. Madalyn softly exhaled in resignation.

Her eyes opened momentarily. Just as she moved to shut them closed again, Madalyn caught a brief glimpse of the thing’s eyes. In those eyes she saw something unexpected. There was a hunger in those eyes, not a savage hunger for flesh, but for warmth. A warmth that could help heal prolonged suffering. Those were the loneliest eyes she had ever seen. Somehow, she no longer felt threatened. No longer trembling, Madalyn pulled herself to her feet. Now that the creature was standing before her, Madalyn was surprised to find herself to be nearly a foot taller than it. The thing slowly bowed its head and gently rested itself on her shoulder. She was startled at first, but immediately calmed by the soothing sound that came from its beak. It’s cooing was something like a raspy kitten’s purr.

It’s neck was covered in thick folds of shining black and green feathers. The creature nudged her shoulder again, and Madalyn began to stroke the bird-like creature’s breast. Its long feathers tickled her cheeks. As she moved her hands through the thing’s plumage, the smell of blood again reached her nostrils. She must have adjusted to the smell in the air, but now the smell was much stronger than before. Almost immediately, she felt an oozing wound concealed by the dark feathers.

The thing winced as her fingertips lightly pressed against the exposed flesh. The pitiable creature quickly withdrew from her and began jerking about; letting out painful cries. Madalyn felt her heart begin to ache and her eyes well with tears. Seeing this creature in such pain, and having no idea how to help, was more than she could bear. She swiftly reached out and firmly wrapped her arms around the creature, pulling the two of them close together. Seeming to understand her gesture, the creature calmed down. The whole room seemed to go silent. The only sound that could be heard was the creature’s raspy breathing and Madalyn’s sniffling as she fought to hold back tears.

The pair seemed to relax. No longer curious or afraid of the other. As they pulled away from each other, the sound of a metal latch and a heavy door opening echoed from a dark corridor. The creature, in response, became very agitated. Its feather ruffled, making it appear several times larger than before as it withdraw from the sound. Madalyn looked back and forth from the mysterious corridor to her newfound companion. She grew worried as her friend let out an unsettling growl. The beam of a flashlight shattered the darkness of the corridor, and a foreboding voice whispered,

“Now, what do we have here?”

Upon hearing the stranger’s voice, the creature let out a sharp, defiant cry. The next thing Madalyn knew, her friend sharply clasped its beak around the collar of her shirt and hoisted her onto its back. She held on tightly as it turned from the light and furiously sprinted away into a series of winding tunnels. Madalyn could only guess as to why her friend had become so alarmed, but now all her attention was focused on maintaining her grip as they darted through tight, narrow passages at startling speeds.

Character: How Do They…Grr

I've never exactly had a "problem" coming up with characters. I have a major issue with coming up with ways of using character in stories to make them compelling. Maybe it's as simple as over thinking it all. I'll often have an idea for a story, but it is based around an event that unfolds in my head. I'll think, "OH! That's cool. Now how did all these characters get together to make this event happen?" I'll try to build a plot around that and it always ends up being forced and melodramatic. I enjoy dramatic stories, but there's a point where they have no impact and things are just happening for the sake of the story going onward. That's not enough!

A story should never just "happen". There needs to be a specific reason as to why things unfold to give them meaning. It's fine to build to an event, but it should have a rhythm that is consistent and guides an audience to a natural conclusion. The worst feeling in the world is being invested in a story that ends without real catharsis and/or resolution. That's why I can't stand a lot of movies lately that leave you hanging with a lot of loose ends. If some people enjoy that, good for them. Those endings should not be striven for, BECAUSE THEY ARE LAZY EXCUSES FOR NOT COMING UP WITH A MEANINGFUL ENDING.