TV Show White Collar Fanfic And Show Don't Tell

 The following is re-posted from the Alien Romances blog where I post on Tuesdays, often on writing craft.

This post has a homework component - and you may post your work as a comment on this writing workshop blog.

This post on converting EXPOSITION into SHOW DON'T TELL actually goes together with my post on how to extract an outline from a finished work to create a query letter.

http://editingcircle.blogspot.com/2010/03/ok-send-me-2-page-synopsis.html

The rule is -- if it's in exposition, it does not go into the synopsis or outline. 

The principle is -- if you find you must put something into the synopsis that appears in the Work as exposition, then you must go back to the Work and convert the exposition to SHOW rather than TELL.  Once that's done (which can require cutting something else) then you can put the tidbit into the synopsis.

Rarely have I seen a useful explanation of how to convert exposition to SHOW, so here below is an example of how that process works in practice. 


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Previously, we have looked at 7 Pursuits to engage in that will help you teach yourself to write.  Those posts are:

http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2010/04/7-pursuits-to-teach-yourself-writing.html

and

http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2010/04/7-pursuits-to-teach-yourself-writing_27.html
One very fruitful exercise in teaching yourself to write is writing fan fiction about your favorite TV show or movie characters.

So now we're going to use the USA Networks TV show White Collar for a lesson (an arduous lesson) in SHOW DON'T TELL.  I'm going to try to show-not-tell how to show-not-tell, then explain what I did and give you a chance to do the drill.   

You don't need to have watched White Collar to grasp the elements in this drill, but it might help to browse the website for White Collar.

http://www.usanetwork.com/series/whitecollar/  (the website comes on with audio-commercials)

Writing is a performing art, as I've told you I was taught, and as such it is a vocation, a calling, more than a profession.  Writing is a lifestyle.

Writers do it even when reading.  Can't help it.  If you're a writer, you are constantly and incessantly rewriting everything you read, or even TV shows you watch -- even great TV shows like White Collar. Yes, Watching TV is work for a writer.  I watch about 6 hours of fiction a week. 

So a friend of mine pointed me to a bit of fanfic she had written based on White Collar.  She's a seasoned professional writer who can't write without plot, pacing, style, structure, and conflict that resolves.  Like all writers, she rewrites TV shows as she watches them, then continues to write the show's story-arc, fixing little things here and there. 

Like me, she watches White Collar with an eye on the pickle Neal finds himself in.

That situational pickle is why I like the show.  I liked Remington Steele, Quantum Leap and It Takes A Thief for the same reason - the pickle inherent in the situation. 

Most TV series, especially anthology series, don't address the inherent pickle.

That pickle is called the "springboard" and is a vehicle to get you into the story, not something that they intend to resolve. 

Quantum Leap is a good example.  Only occasional episodes addressed the physics of the problem that got Dr. Sam Beckett stuck leaping from one time to another or how to get him out of that pickle.  The point of the show was "solving problems" in people's lives by taking over their life from inside their own body. 

But the only thing that interested me was the pickle and the solution, not the problems of the people he visited. 

Time Travel Romance routinely does this too.  The mechanism of the time travel leap is more fascinating to me than the Romance unless the writer can make them one and the same -- the novel A Knight In Shining Armor now out on Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/Knight-Shining-Armor-ebook/dp/B000FC0QO8/rereadablebooksr/
is an example of making the Romance more prominent than the time-travel mechanism. 

So, in the TV Show White Collar, the Romance and the pickle are intertwined perfectly.  You've got to solve the pickle to solve the Romance.  You've got to solve the Romance to solve the pickle. 

Neal agrees to work for the F.B.I. helping catch white collar criminals (his colleagues and rivals) in order to get out of jail so that he can find and maybe rescue his lover, the one serious relationship in his life. 

At the point of this story, Neal has just seen his soul mate killed in an explosion and has nothing left.  The F.B.I. has him on a leash (an ankle tracking device).  Meanwhile, he's become good friends with the only cop ever to catch him.  The cop keeps tempting him to go straight. And any romance reader can see Neal's  wide-open to a new lover, but not emotionally settled enough yet.  

So my friend the writer starts plotting, and out comes a (brilliant) solution to Neal's pickle. 

It's 2AM after a hard day writing for pay, and she's jumping up and down with this fabulous idea.  Got to write it or she won't sleep a wink, nevermind write the next piece in a way that can earn her pay.  The mind writes what the mind writes. 

So she wades in to solve Neal's pickle in a real quick fanfic.  She's tired and wants to get right to her idea.  This piece is aimed only at those who watch this show's episodes over and over and probably write fanfic about it themselves.  They know the material, they don't need an introduction just a quick sketch of her particular variation on Neal's character, and then into the story she wants to write.

So she perpetrates the biggest no-no in the writing craft, right up front of her story where it really matters, she starts off with tell rather than show, cramming in some foreshadowing that doesn't belong in the opening, then dashes off the story itself and posts it.  As an afterthought, she points me to the first chapter of the story (which already has rave reviews being posted), "Look what I wrote.  What do you think?"  And of course she's referring to her solution to the pickle.   

And what do I do? 

I rewrite her opening tell into show and send it to her.

I had a grand old time writing fanfic to my friend's fanfic.  Then I realized I'd done a writing lesson I could use to show you what I've been talking about when I say "show don't tell" -- my friend does not need this lesson and knows that I know that.  She was not offended when I showed her my scene, and even agreed to let me use it for you.

Here's the URL for the story she posted - it has 7 chapters you can find in the dropdown at the upper right:

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5885164/1/Grace_In_The_Confidence_of_Others

Here's the opening paragraphs as she wrote them. Read them, study, and rewrite them as SHOW rather than TELL before reading what I did. 

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Summary – When Neal is playing a con, pulling a heist or creating a forgery, he has all the confidence in the world. But when these tools are not an option the only thing he has to save himself and the lives of others is something he's not too sure of at all, his own self worth.

Grace in the con fidence of others

Chapter 1/7

By Ultracape

They hung in almost every office, were tacked on nearly all the peg boards and some having been enthusiastically signed with a flourish by the grinning artist were framed and brought home and displayed in places of honor. There were few in the F.B.I.'s White Collar Crime Division who had not yet felt graced with a Neal Caffery original sketch.

It was the easiest con he'd every pulled, even if it was totally unintentional, and nothing to be proud of. As far as Neal was concerned if they were foolish enough to think his creations were any good he'd brag about his talent and play along. Then maybe he would not be the first one people looked to when something went missing in the office. Maybe he could get through a day feeling like his honest work meant something.

Even when he put his life on the line, something that happened with increasing frequency it seemed, it was not his word people trusted, it was his tracking anklet and the ever present threat of prison for the slightest infraction of what he felt were arbitrary and inconvenient rules, just begging to be broken for a good or even not so good cause.

The thing was, while it was rare for Neal to find any task difficult, when he did face difficulty, he did not have the experience to work it through. Fitting in, being accepted; playing by the rules eluded him, frustrated him and turned every day into a struggle to achieve what seemed to come so easily to others.

Gaining people's respect and trust in a persona for a con, for a heist, for the space of no more than a few weeks, was easy, especially for a man of Neal's brilliance. But earning the trust of others with nothing to show for his life but a list of alleged crimes, one conviction and a prison term was a greater challenge than he'd ever faced.

None but Neal's handler, partner and friend, F.B.I. Special Agent Peter Burke, could see through the armor of his fashionable suits, his charming veneer, his eagerness to be helpful, his know it all (because he did) attitude and his wit and puppy dog eyes to the troubled, childlike soul, the person who thought of himself as worth less than his doodles.

Now, just months since his girlfriend, Kate, had been killed, Neal's self-confidence was at an all time low. As far as Neal was concerned, the murder of his lady love, had been the final blow showing him that no matter what he did, what he accomplished, he was worth nothing, just some tool to be used by whoever needed his considerable criminal talents.

If trading his life for a hostage was needed it was no problem, and good riddance if said trade ended in his death. Thievery and coercion were against the law except if some mysterious uber-leader wanted to maneuver Neal into steeling something that supposedly didn't exist from a foreign government. But once Neal accomplished the deed, blowing him up was a convenient way to get rid of his inconvenient presence. And just for fun, pining a crime on him to cover up someone else's misdeeds was no big deal. As far as everyone was concerned, Neal deserved to be in prison, or dead.

Fine, he got the message. He was free as long as they could use him and his choices were prison or death and Neal did not want to go back to prison. Maybe this early morning meeting with Peter would lead to a means to an end. His experience as a consultant for the F.B.I. showed him how easy it was to step in front of a bullet even when he wasn't trying.

Having arrived early, Neal took out his small sketch pad he always kept with him to occupy his time. As usual, his thoughts drifted off to Kate and flashes of their life together, always ending with the explosion that took her from him. It was just that burst of brightness, this time from the sun angling its rays against a building and reflecting suddenly onto his face that he became aware he was staring out at the clear day, the tall glass monoliths sparkling in the morning light. He was halfway done before he even realized he was sketching the cityscape, somehow, even in black and white, capturing the brilliance of sparkling buildings, giving them a vitality unseen by passersby. His back to the door, Neal was so focused on his work that he did not notice the two men, one carrying a file, who walked into the room until one of them gasped.

"Oh my G-d, Peter!"

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OK, to do a good job rewriting this opening, you should read the whole story, all 7 Chapters, but I had read only this first chapter to the end before I couldn't resist creating a SHOW out of this TELL opening. 

For the purposes of this drill, just reading that first chapter should be enough. 

I'm going to show you here an illustration of a simple fact I learned from Marion Zimmer Bradley. Writing is a craft.  It can be trained into you like driving, tennis, pottery.  The training consists of drill-drill-drill, and that's about it.  Talent of course helps, but is neither a necessary or sufficient condition to doing what I'm going to show you. 

This is an exercise in "put in the data and grind the crank."  It is a mechanical exercise devoid of artistic dimensions.  It is an exercise in walking and chewing gum.  It is an exercise in doing a lot of writing craft techniques simultaneously, and cross-integrating each with the other. 

This scene appeared in my mind, WHOLE and complete, produced by the training my subconscious has endured over the years.  Writing it down only took a few minutes.  I did not think about this.  I didn't laboriously figure it out.  My subconscious produced the scene in a flash-photo and I knew it was the SHOW that corresponds to the TELL in this story opening just twisted into my own characters. 

I watch this TV show, and I have inside my own head, a Neal & Peter set that doesn't resemble those my friend writes about here.  So in writing the scene down, I distorted her characters, and deleted points she had inserted as foreshadowing of the subsequent events that I hadn't read about yet. 

For her to attach my opening scene to her story would mean the entire thing would have to be rewritten, after rewriting my opening to correct the characters to be her own characters.  The foreshadowing I deleted would have to be moved to later.  And then the pacing and plot and everything else would have to be adjusted.

Had she stopped to create an opening scene instead of the long "tell" opening, it would have been an entirely different scene than the one I concocted.

This will be the case with anything you come up with to cast that TELL opening into a SHOW opening.  Your Neal (whether you've watched the show or not) is not my Neal or Ultracape's Neal. 

That's what makes fanfic so much fun!  You can have your cake and eat it too!  You can have dozens, even hundreds, of versions of the same character in various versions of a pickle, and watch the problem get worked out in thousands of ways. 

If you have no idea how to transform her TELL into a SHOW, here's a clue.  You need to create a SCENE in which almost all the information in her TELL is illustrated by visuals, by things, by actions, and by acting business.

To show not tell, you need to create a scene, so your piece must have a scene's STRUCTURE. 

If you don't know the rules for creating a scene, first read:

http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/07/6-tricks-of-scene-structure.html

And it's sequel post:

http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/07/6-tricks-of-scene-structure-part-2.html

Yes, "show don't tell" means "construct a scene that conveys this without saying this."

Scene Structure mastery cures Expository Lumps. 

Ultracape's opening "TELL" is mostly exposition. 

If you don't know what an Expository Lump is, or have been excoriated by your beta readers for expository lumps (or told your writing is boring), read these posts first:

http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2008/08/source-of-expository-lump.html

http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2008/09/sexy-information-feed.html

And this one focusing on Michelle West's novel THE HIDDEN CITY as an example of information feed. 

http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2008/09/for-my-review-column-httpwww.html

I call what Ultracape did for the opening "information feed" - and she chose telling the information as exposition and narrative instead of showing it with a full fleshed scene. 

She did that because it's easier and faster.  You will find that you do it often, too, and on rewrite you are faced with the problem of how to fix it.  Sometimes a scene is the solution, so this exercise may help you meet a looming deadline one day. 

WRITE YOUR OWN SCENE NOW.

OK, now here's what I did with it.  Read what I did, then we'll go through it again, identifying the craft skills for various items in this scene.  Then you can rewrite what you did, if you think it's warranted.  You can post your results as a comment on this blog to get feedback. 

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GRACE IN THE CON FIDENCE OF OTHERS
(opening rewrite by Jacqueline Lichtenberg)

The motor pool sedan lumbered over the broken field. 

Neal Caffrey sat beside his handler, Peter Burke, who wrestled the car up next to a row of identical ones and parked it precisely in line.   Neal clutched a plain brown wrapped package in his lap and noted the hint of a smirk on Peter's otherwise friendly face.

Peter got out, pocketing the keys and leaned on the open door.  He surveyed the immense bon fire smoking downwind of the parked cars.  On the other side of the fire, a small fire truck and four geared up firemen supervised the flames.  On this side, four guys in F.B.I. jackets watched, hands in their pockets.

Peter looked back at Neal, eyebrows raised. "Well?  You going to pay off this bet, or not?" 

I'm not a welcher.  Never have been.  Even Peter knows that.  I thought.

Neal got out, slammed his door, and tucked the package under his arm.  "What now?" The bon fire of counterfeit currency blazed merrily. 

"Follow me."

Peter led the way up to the group of F.B.I. guys, hitched his suit jacket back and shoved his hands in his pockets, starting to talk before Neal got close enough to hear against the wind. 

As he approached, Neal's artist's eye took a snapshot of the tableau. 

In one instant, the group opened and swallowed Peter, becoming a group of five F.B.I. guys, one of which didn't wear a labeled jacket. But five F.B.I. guys, solid and unbreakable. 

Odd man out, Neal joined the group, very aware that it was still five guys and him, not six guys.

"...sure thing," one of them was saying.  "But I have to see what's in the package first."

"No problem," replied Peter, and gestured casually to Neal to unwrap the package in his arm.

Neal held the bottom of the package and ripped the taped shut top open.

"Oil paintings, on canvass," said Peter. "They'll burn easily.  All forgeries, we don't ever want to get back into circulation, if you know what I mean." 

One of the guys plucked a rolled canvass out of the package and held it open.  He whistled.  "You sure this isn't the real thing?" 

Neal interjected, "They're not."

The guy asked, "How do you know?" And he scrutinized Neal, as if checking his face against memorized wanted photos. 

"I painted them."

All four guys riveted eyes on Neal. 

"So," Peter broke in, "can we feed your fire?" 

"Go ahead." The guy handed Neal back the rolled painting. 

Peter gestured to Neal and the moment of paying off his bet with Peter came upon him like a cold shower. He'd been stupid to open his mouth and volunteer to burn these himself.  He had been so sure he'd been right about Dorothy Putnam's double timing her S.E.C. boss on those CDO's.  But she'd been lily white, and Peter had won the bet.

Neal walked up to the fire, gaining the alert attention of both firemen at the left and right of the pile of burning currency. 

A gust of wind drove the flames and smoke away from Neal, and he took that moment to hurl the first painting onto the fire. 

I can make more. he thought grimly as he flung each painting onto the leaping flames.  So why does this hurt? 

The brown wrapper followed the canvasses, flapping in the wind.

Neal turned to face the welded together group of five F.B.I. guys and paced the distance back to them. 

He could have just let me burn them in my fireplace. He made it back to the car certain he'd shown no hint of the pain he didn't let himself feel. 

By the time they arrived at the office, Neal's back had relaxed enough for him to stride freely down the corridor, even though fully aware of each of his freehand sketches displayed on the walls. 

They hung in almost every office, were tacked on nearly all the peg boards and some having been enthusiastically signed with a flourish by the grinning artist were framed and brought home and displayed in places of honor.

He realized he'd been doing a lot more of those sketches since the murder of his lady love.  There were few in the F.B.I.'s White Collar Crime Division who had not been captured in a Neal Caffery original sketch.

Why do they keep them? The scene of the morning returned full force, Peter melding seamlessly into the group of four F.B.I. guys, and himself apart.  He tried to shake it off.  They don't see me as just some tool to be used by whoever needs my unique skills!

But Neal knew that as far as those four guys were concerned, he deserved to be in prison, or dead, if they could only remember the right wanted poster.

But I've decided to do whatever it takes to stay out of prison, and I can do whatever I decide to do. Right?

Peter's phone rang. As he slipped it from his pocket, he said, "Neal, wait for me in my office, okay? I'll be right back."  And he took off down the hall, phone to his ear. 

Neal sighed and watched him go.  See?  What did I tell you? he told himself silently.  I'm just a convenience, a crime solving appliance.

He slipped into Peter's office and took out his small sketch pad he he carried for waiting-room-moments. 

As usual, his thoughts drifted off to Kate and flashes of their life together, always ending with the explosion that took her from him.

But this time, it was just a burst of brightness from the sun angling its rays against a building and reflecting suddenly onto his face, not an orange and angry black explosion.

He became aware he was staring out at the clear day, the tall glass monoliths sparkling in the morning light. His hand was sketching the cityscape, a simple pencil sketch capturing the brilliance of sparkling buildings, giving them a vitality unseen by passersby.

His back to the door, Neal was so focused on his work that he did not notice the two men, one carrying a file, who walked into the room until one of them leaned over his shoulder and gasped.

"Oh my G-d, Peter!"
-------------

And from there it's as Ultracape wrote it, presenting Neal with an opportunity to wriggle out of his pickle. 

This is an exercise in SHOW DON'T TELL.

In narrative or screenwriting, you must create VISUAL IMAGES out of intangibles, just as commercial writers have to make you want to buy a perfume or a particular brand of toothpaste. 

Things that have to be illustrated are emotions, attitudes, moods, character, relationship, background, backstory without exposition. 

So let's go through what I wrote again, looking for how I did that.  Then you can go through what you did, and see if you can think of a better way to do what you did. 

So here's my scene again with comments in CAPS. 

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The motorpool sedan lumbered over the broken field.  (OPENING IMAGE - A ROUGH JOURNEY NEARING AN END)

Neal Caffrey sat beside his handler, Peter Burke, who wrestled the car up next to a row of identical ones and parked it precisely in line.  
(CHARACTERIZATION OF THE RELATIONSHIP (BESIDE) AND OF PETER (NEAT, CAREFUL, ORGANIZED, RULE-CONSCIOUS).  SETTING AND BACKSTORY INDICATED - IDENTICAL CARS - FORESHADOWS THEY ARE FBI - FORESHADOWS THE IMAGE OF 4 MEN TOGETHER)

Neal clutched a plain brown wrapped package in his lap
MYSTERY, A QUESTION IS PLANTED, WHAT'S IN THE PACKAGE, WHY CLUTCHED? CHARACTERIZATION, CLUTCHING - NOT LIKE NEAL TO HANG ON. RELUCTANT TO CHANGE.

ALSO NOTE USE OF SYMBOLISM THROUGHOUT -- IF YOU HAVEN'T STUDIED THE USE OF SYMBOLISM SEE THIS POST
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2009/03/communicating-in-symbols.html
and noted the hint of a smirk on Peter's otherwise friendly face.
CHARACTERIZATION OF THE RELATIONSHIP - WHAT NEAL NOTICES; OF PETER'S PERSONALITY; AND FORESHADOWS TO THOSE WHO WATCH THE SHOW THAT SOMETHING REALLY INTERESTING IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN AND NEAL ISN'T HAPPY ABOUT THAT.

Peter got out, pocketing the keys and leaned on the open door. 
BACKSTORY SYMBOLIZED WITH TYPICAL COP STANCE BEHIND OPEN CAR DOOR, CHARACTERIZES PETER IN METICULOUS POCKETING OF KEYS, ALSO SHOWS WITHOUT TELLING THAT NEAL HAS NO WAY OUT OF THIS SCENE EXCEPT FORWARD -- ONLY WE ALL KNOW HE CAN HOTWIRE THE CAR IN 15 SECONDS.  BUT IF HE DID, WHAT WOULD THAT DO TO THE RELATIONSHIP.  SO HE'S TRAPPED. 

He surveyed the immense bon fire smoking downwind of the parked cars.
VISUAL IMAGE THAT BEGINS TO REVEAL WHERE THEY ARE AND WHAT'S HAPPENING.  IT'S ALSO A VISUAL HOOK INTO THE SCENE. 

 On the other side of the fire, a small fire truck and four geared up firemen supervised the flames. 
SHOWS WITHOUT TELLING THAT THIS BON FIRE IS LEGIT, ON PURPOSE.

On this side, four guys in F.B.I. jackets watched, hands in their pockets.
TYPICAL GUY STANCE WHEN COMMUNING WITH BUDDIES, NON-THREATENING BODY LANGUAGE, YET STRONG, INDIVIDUAL AND SELF-CONFIDENT BODY LANGUAGE. ALSO JACKETS SHOW DON'T TELL THAT THIS IS AN FBI OP.

Peter looked back at Neal, eyebrows raised. "Well?  You going to pay off this bet, or not?"

AHA, DOWN TO BRASS TACKS OF THE SCENE.  PAY OFF WHAT?

NOTICE THAT SHOWING WITHOUT TELLING IS ROOTED IN PROMPTING THE READER/VIEWER TO ASK QUESTIONS BEFORE YOU PROVIDE ANSWERS.  THAT'S INFORMATION FEED TECHNIQUE, AND THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF STORYTELLING.

I'm not a welcher.  Never have been.  Even Peter knows that.  I thought.

NEAL'S SELF-IMAGE IS SHOWN BY HIS PRIDE IN KEEPING HIS WORD.  RELATIONSHIP IS SHOWN IN THAT NEAL KNOWS PETER KNOWS NEAL'S CHARACTER IS STRONG. THEN DOUBT CREEPS IN - THE BAREST HINT WITH "I THOUGHT".  ULTRACAPE TOLD US NEAL'S SELF-IMAGE WAS CRUMBLING UNDER THE REALITY OF HIS LOSS OF HIS SOUL-MATE, AND HERE WE SEE WITH OUR OWN EYES THE FRISSON OF THE FIRST CRACKS IN NEAL'S SELF-IMAGE SHOWING UP IN HIS SOLID RELATIONSHIP WITH PETER.


Neal got out, slammed his door, and tucked the package under his arm.  "What now?" The bon fire of counterfeit currency blazed merrily.

ACTION MOVES THE PLOT OF THIS SCENE ALONG.  AND A TAG-LINE OF TELL REVEALS WHAT WE HAVE BEEN LOOKING AT, AND MOST READERS NO DOUBT SUSPECTED, A CONTROLLED DISPOSAL OF COUNTERFEIT CURRENCY -- NEAL'S BIGGEST SKILL IS COUNTERFEITING CURRENCY OR ARTWORK.  IT'S HIS LIFE, THE PRODUCT OF ALL HIS EFFORTS TO LIVE WELL, GOING UP IN SMOKE UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE AUTHORITIES.  IT IS DEFEAT IN IMAGES.

"WHAT NOW?" IS THE CORE OF THE DILEMMA ULTRACAPE SKETCHES IN THE OPENING TELL.  NEAL IS AT A SYMBOLIC CROSSROADS IN HIS LIFE, NOTHING LEFT BEHIND, NOTHING VISIBLE AHEAD, FAILURE AT EVERYTHING, NOTHING TO PEG HIS SELF-ESTEEM ON ANY MORE. HE HIMSELF IS GOING UP IN SMOKE.  

"Follow me."

AGAIN THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THEM IS SHOWN.

AN ALTERNATIVE WAY TO DEPICT THIS BIT OF THE SCENE IS TO HAVE NEAL HEAVE HIMSELF OUT OF THE CAR, STALK AGGRESSIVELY ACROSS THE FIELD, AND HURL HIS PACKAGE INTO THE FLAMES WITHOUT ASKING PERMISSION, TURN AND BELLIGERANTLY YELL AT PETER, "SATISFIED?" -- THAT WOULD CHANGE THE CHARACTERIZATION, THE RELATIONSHIP, AND THE GIST OF THE STORY.

Peter led the way up to the group of F.B.I. guys, hitched his suit jacket back and shoved his hands in his pockets, starting to talk before Neal got close enough to hear against the wind. 

SHOW'S WITHOUT TELLING PETER'S A MEMBER OF THE FRATERNITY, ACCEPTED.  ALL ULTRACAPE'S EXPOSITION ABOUT ACCEPTANCE IS WRAPPED UP IN THIS AND SUBSQUENT IMAGES, SHOWN IN IMAGES NOT TOLD IN WORDS. 

As he approached, Neal's artist's eye took a snapshot of the tableau.

THIS STORY IS ABOUT NEAL'S ARTISTIC ABILITY, SO HERE THAT IS SHOWN WITHOUT TELLING, SHOWN WITH ACTION AND DESCRIPTION. 

NOW COMES SOME DESCRIPTION TO ILLUSTRATE THE EMOTIONAL CONTENT OF THE IMAGE NEAL CAPTURES WITH HIS ARTIST'S EYE.

In one instant, the group opened and swallowed Peter, becoming a group of five F.B.I. guys, one of which didn't wear a labeled jacket. But five F.B.I. guys, solid and unbreakable. 

Odd man out, Neal joined the group, very aware that it was still five guys and him, not six guys.

AGAIN NEAL'S UNCHARACTERISTIC SENSE OF ALIENATION SURFACES, AND IT SURFACES IN THE IMAGE OF THE FIVE GUYS AND HIM -- IT IS THE ARTIST IN HIM THAT IS ABLE TO EXPRESS EMOTION THAT HE OTHERWISE COULD NOT FACE VERBALLY. 

"...sure thing," one of them was saying.  "But I have to see what's in the package first."

"No problem," replied Peter, and gestured casually to Neal to unwrap the package in his arm.

AGAIN, WHO'S BOSS AND WHO'S OUTSIDER ILLUSTRATED, AND WE NOW MOVE TO REVEAL WHAT WAS CONCEALED IN THE SECOND PARAGRAPH OF THIS SCENE, CLUTCHING A BROWN PAPER WRAPPED PACKAGE. 

Neal held the bottom of the package and ripped the taped shut top open.

"Oil paintings, on canvass," said Peter. "They'll burn easily.  All forgeries, we don't ever want to get back into circulation, if you know what I mean." 

One of the guys plucked a rolled canvass out of the package and held it open.  He whistled.  "You sure this isn't the real thing?" 

FORESHADOWING THAT THIS ENTIRE THING IS ABOUT NEAL'S ART - AND ALSO HIGHLIGHTING THE SELF-ESTEEM ISSUE AT THE CORE OF THE STORY. 

Neal interjected, "They're not."

WORD INTERJECTED ILLUSTRATES NEAL IS THE OUTSIDER HERE.  AN INSIDER WOULD ADD OR ANSWER. HE'S NOT EVEN BEING ADDRESSED AND MUST INTERJECT.

The guy asked, "How do you know?" And he scrutinized Neal, as if checking his face against memorized wanted photos. 

AGAIN REJECTION.  SURELY BY NOW EVERYONE IN THE FBI KNOWS NEAL'S FACE. BUT NO, HERE'S A CREW THAT DOESN'T RECOGNIZE HIM.  NEAL IS FORCED TO SAY:

"I painted them."

BY LEAVING OUT LONG DESCRIPTION OF THE STRANGLED TONE OF VOICE NEAL IS USING HERE, THE GRATING SOUND OF IT ON HIS OWN EARS, THE BARE WORDS CARRY THE SUBTEXT AND LET EACH READER INTERPRET HOW THE LINE IS DELIVERED FOR THEMSELVES, THUS MAKING THIS SCENE THEIR OWN. 

All four guys riveted eyes on Neal. 

NOW HE'S GOT THEIR ATTENTION - DOES HE REALLY WANT IT.  BUT AGAIN, HE'S ODD MAN OUT.

"So," Peter broke in, "can we feed your fire?" 

ILLUSTRATES THEIR RELATIONSHIP - PETER SAVING NEAL FROM EMBARRASSMENT AT THE HANDS OF PETER'S COLLEAGUES.  PETER, MEMBER OF THE FRATERNITY; NEAL, OUTSIDER.

"Go ahead." The guy handed Neal back the rolled painting. 

STAGE BUSINESS HERE AN ACTOR COULD MAKE A LOT OUT OF. LET THE READER READ IT. 

Peter gestured to Neal and the moment of paying off his bet with Peter came upon him like a cold shower. He'd been stupid to open his mouth and volunteer to burn these himself.  He had been so sure he'd been right about Dorothy Putnam's double timing her S.E.C. boss on those CDO's.  But she'd been lily white, and Peter had won the bet.

HERE NEAL'S INNER DIALOGUE IS REVEALED WITH SOME NARRATIVE, AND THE OFFHAND REFERENCE TO AN EVENT NOT MENTIONED IN ULTRACAPE'S OPENING IS INSERTED TO SHOW DON'T TELL THAT NEAL IS NOT ONLY AT THE NADIR OF HIS LIFE, BUT INSULT TO INJURY HE'D LEAD THE FBI IN THE WRONG DIRECTION ON THEIR LAST CASE -- ON THE TV SHOW THERE IS NO DOROTHY PUTNAM OR SEC SCANDAL OR CDO BUSINESS.  I JUST MADE THAT UP FOR A BET NEAL HAD JUST LOST. 

Neal walked up to the fire, gaining the alert attention of both firemen at the left and right of the pile of burning currency. 

A gust of wind drove the flames and smoke away from Neal, and he took that moment to hurl the first painting onto the fire. 

SYMBOLIC OF WHERE HE IS IN LIFE, HURLING HIS PAST INTO THE FIRE BECAUSE IT'S ALL A WORTHLESS SHAM. 

I can make more. he thought grimly as he flung each painting onto the leaping flames.  So why does this hurt? 

AS MOST MEN, NEAL FEELS HIS FEELINGS BUT HAS NO CLUE (AND DOESN'T WANT TO HAVE) WHERE THEY COME FROM OR WHY HE FEELS.  HE KNOWS HE CAN "MAKE MORE" -- REBUILD HIS LIFE -- BUT ON MORE SHAM, MORE CONS, A FALSE AND FAKE LIFE WORTH NOTHING BUT BURNING IN A BLEAK, OPEN FIELD UNDER THE WATCHFUL EYES OF THE AUTHORITIES. 

The brown wrapper followed the canvasses, flapping in the wind.

REALLY NOTHING LEFT, NOT EVEN THE WRAPPER.

WHAT HE HAD CLUTCHED TO HIMSELF, HE HAS NOW THROWN AWAY.  THIS IS THE BACKSTORY OF THE WHOLE TV SERIES UP TO "NOW" WHEN ULTRACAPE SOLVES THE PROBLEM EVER SO NEATLY. 

Neal turned to face the welded together group of five F.B.I. guys and paced the distance back to them. 

OK, BRAVELY FACE THE FUTURE. 

He could have just let me burn them in my fireplace.

AGAIN THE MORPHING RELATIONSHIP, THE UNCERTAINTY THAT HE EVEN UNDERSTANDS PETER.

He made it back to the car certain he'd shown no hint of the pain he didn't let himself feel. 

THIS INVITES FANFIC READERS TO RE-WATCH ALL THE SHOWS FOR HINTS OF NEAL'S INNER LIFE SHOWING THROUGH WHEN HE THINKS IT DOESN'T.  ALSO AGAIN, ANOTHER SHOW DON'T TELL OF HOW THE FACE HE TURNS TO THE OUTER WORLD IS A CONSTRUCT, NOT WHAT HE KNOWS AS HIS TRUE SELF.  HE DOESN'T LET HIMSELF FEEL HIS OWN PAIN, SO IT WON'T SHOW, BECAUSE - WHAT? IF IT DID SHOW WHAT WOULD HAPPEN? REJECTION? AGAIN, THE POINTS OF CHARACTERIZATION ULTRACAPE HIGHLIGHTED ARE SHOWN, NOT TOLD.  BUT IT'S JUST A LITTLE DIFFERENT THAN HER NEAL WOULD DO IT. 

By the time they arrived at the office, Neal's back had relaxed enough for him to stride freely down the corridor, even though fully aware of each of his freehand sketches displayed on the walls. 

HERE WE JOIN THE NARRATIVE ULTRACAPE WROTE WITH A DIFFERENT SEGUE.  HER OPENING "THEY HUNG IN ALMOST EVERY OFFICE" IS REALLY COOL, AND I WAS VERY SORRY TO LOSE IT.  SO I PUT IT IN THE NEXT PARAGRAPH, AFTER REVEALING WHAT "THEY" ARE -- BETTER THAN SCRAPPING IT TOTALLY. 

They hung in almost every office, were tacked on nearly all the peg boards and some having been enthusiastically signed with a flourish by the grinning artist were framed and brought home and displayed in places of honor.

He realized he'd been doing a lot more of those sketches since the murder of his lady love.  There were few in the F.B.I.'s White Collar Crime Division who had not been captured in a Neal Caffery original sketch.

Why do they keep them? The scene of the morning returned full force, Peter melding seamlessly into the group of four F.B.I. guys, and himself apart.  He tried to shake it off.  They don't see me as just some tool to be used by whoever needs my unique skills!

But Neal knew that as far as those four guys were concerned, he deserved to be in prison, or dead, if they could only remember the right wanted poster.

But I've decided to do whatever it takes to stay out of prison, and I can do whatever I decide to do. Right?

Peter's phone rang. As he slipped it from his pocket, he said, "Neal, wait for me in my office, okay? I'll be right back."  And he took off down the hall, phone to his ear. 

Neal sighed and watched him go.  See?  What did I tell you? he told himself silently.  I'm just a convenience, a crime solving appliance.

BLENDING INTO ULTRACAPE'S FIRST SCENE, BRINGING A SHOW DON'T TELL IMAGE INTO THE APPROACH TO THE OFFICE, CREATING AN EXIT FOR PETER SO HE CAN RE-ENTER WITH THE GUEST AND NEW OFFER.

He slipped into Peter's office and took out his small sketch pad he he carried for waiting-room-moments. 

As usual, his thoughts drifted off to Kate and flashes of their life together, always ending with the explosion that took her from him.

But this time, it was just a burst of brightness from the sun angling its rays against a building and reflecting suddenly onto his face, not an orange and angry black explosion.

He became aware he was staring out at the clear day, the tall glass monoliths sparkling in the morning light. His hand was sketching the cityscape, a simple pencil sketch capturing the brilliance of sparkling buildings, giving them a vitality unseen by passersby.

His back to the door, Neal was so focused on his work that he did not notice the two men, one carrying a file, who walked into the room until one of them leaned over his shoulder and gasped.

"Oh my G-d, Peter!"

AS PETER BRINGS HIS GUEST AND SUGGESTION INTO NEAL'S LIFE, WITH THAT BURNING PAINTINGS SCENE TACKED ONTO THE OPENING, WE HAVE A REVERSAL OR SWITCH, A BIG TURNABOUT IN THE RELATIONSHIP.

IN MY OPENING SCENE, NEAL IS FEELING -- NOT THINKING -- THAT PETER HAS REALLY ABANDONED HIM, THAT PETER IS BEING CRUEL ON PURPOSE IN SOME WAY, AND NEAL ISN'T SURE HE DOESN'T DESERVE IT.  NEAL IS JUST IN GRIEVING MODE, TOTALLY LOST, AND FEELING ABANDONED BY PETER, HIS LAST FRIEND.  BUT HERE, ALL OF A SUDDEN, IT'S REVERSED, AND PETER IS PROVIDING A SOLUTION THAT TAKES INTO ACCOUNT WHAT ART REALLY MEANS TO NEAL, A MEANING NEAL HIMSELF HAS NO CLUE (YET) EXISTS.

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Now, go over the scene you constructed, identify the techniques you did use, and make sure you've used all of the ones I've noted above.

Make your scene says what you want it to say, and with the characterization spin that you prefer -- but make it clear and vivid what your spin actually is.

This is a drill in SHOW DON'T TELL which is designed to prompt you to carry the dynamic evolution of a new icon for modern Romance into the future. It's all about Relationship shown but not told. 

For more on the Romance iconization, see:

http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2010/04/turning-action-into-romance.html

Jacqueline Lichtenberg
http://jacquelinelichtenberg.com