How To Learn To Use Theme As Art was originally posted here:
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2008/09/how-to-learn-to-use-theme-as-art.html
Believe it or not, the way to learn to use theme as art is to practice meticulous worldbuilding.
What is meticulous worldbuilding? It doesn't necessarily have to be done consciously. You can program your subconscious to create universes around your characters, to wrap the background around the character in such a way that it makes logical sense that this character would do this thing at this time in the character's life -- and that the blowback from the action it would cause the character to learn an important lesson and change because of it.
But how do you do that? How do you train your subconscious to create universes that "work" in fiction, worlds that are "meticulously" built?
Beginners and amateurs (and outsiders from the writing profession) believe that whatever is going on in their own imaginations constitutes a story, a novel, a movie. They believe what they dream, imagine, wish, hope for, or dread is Art and is an "idea for a story."
Nothing could be farther from the truth -- and still be exactly, precisely, meticulously true at the same time!
When an untrained beginner "has an idea" -- they get fired up with the conviction that this idea is unique, and that its value commercially lies in its uniqueness, and that they therefore must take the advice of lawyers and authors of great properties like Superman and protect themselves from people who want to "steal their idea."
This fallacy leads them swiftly down a blind alley. Some go looking for a ghost writer or co-author -- a writer with writer's skills to "turn this idea into a money maker."
All professionals have been approached by (and mystified by) people who say, "I have this great commercial idea, but I just need someone to write it. I'll give you half the money!"
And all professionals are beset by people who have written a story, novel, script, whatever, and "I just want you to rewrite it; you know, give it a little polish." Or suggestions that they will use to polish it.
The amateur possessed by An Idea seeks a very specific emotional payoff. Nothing a professional writer can do to their material will produce that payoff. That's why there are so many unsuccessful collaborations or ghost-writer contracts. That's why professionals don't want to touch an amateur's idea -- doing so leads into a quagmire of the very internal, very personal, unique-to-the-idea-generator, emotional search for satisfaction.
That imagined satisfaction would come, the amateur believes, from "seeing my story in print." Or on stage or in film.
Hence the huge market for self-publishing. There is a small percentage of books which ought to be self-published -- but it is not a huge market. Predators have enlarged that market because amateurs will pay to see their book in print. What the amateur hasn't grasped is that nobody wants to read their story. The devastation they experience is usually not handled well.
The big gaping difference between the amateur and the professional writer is not whether you make actual money off your words, but rather whether you understand the mechanism inside you that produces IDEAS.
Do you know what an "idea" is, where it comes from, and what to do with it once you have it?
Amateurs believe their ideas are unique and therefore sellable.
Professionals know that among their ideas are a few really valuable ones that can be monetized because the idea is NOT UNIQUE.
If it's personal, it's not sellable but rather "self-indulgent."
A professionally saleable idea is universal. It is a perfect reticulation of an archetype (one archetype per story; not half a dozen of them at once). It can't be given away to another writer to write because everyone already has it. And therefore it can't be stolen.
Hollywood is full of stories about writers who had been circulating a script on a given topic or background - an idea - and when a movie comes out using that idea, the amateur sues the producer or company for plagiarism. As I said - some amateurs don't handle rejection well because they don't understand the concept of An Idea plus the concept of Monetizing An Idea.
The thing which makes an idea worth money to a publisher or producer is that the seeds of it already reside within the audience, and probably every writer on earth, past, present, and future. It will be recognized as "mine" by a vast number of people.
The amateur "has an idea" and it is "mine." And therefore, they believe, proprietary stock in trade.
The amateur who writes such an idea up into a novel or script produces what Marion Zimmer Bradley referred to as a "self-indulgent story." It's a story about themselves, not about humanity.
The amateur is trying to write about his/her own personal experience of the world, of people. The amateur produces what became labeled in Star Trek fanzines as the "Mary Sue" story -- where the main character is an avatar of the author. When the author is not conscious of that mechanism, the resulting story is even worse.
The amateur who is unaware is enthusiastically and ritualistically indulging him/herself telling their own personal story -- without grounding in the archetype.
The professional (even one who has never sold) is not telling their own personal story -- but is telling YOUR STORY, the audience's story, the world's story, a readership or viewership's story -- a constituency's story.
The process of telling someone else's story is not clinical, intellectually distanced, calculated, deliberate.
The professional does something different from what the amateur does only in that moment after the self-indulgent personal story has burst into consciousness.
The professional takes the personal story that erupts from the subconscious and traces it back to its roots in the archetype that runs that professional's own personality.
For more on archetypes and your personality and your personal life and how you fit into the set of patterns common to all humanity -- psychology, timed-patterns of life's challenges, and the "lessons" life hurls at you personally -- see Astrology and the Tarot.
Many of the blazing, world-wide instant classics are actually stories which are visible in the writer's natal chart -- but not in their lives. Karmic stories from past lives, perhaps, or unrealized potential.
If you don't like that esoteric approach, read a lot (hundreds) of biographies and autobiographies, learn sociology, psychology, anthropology, archeology, etc etc. Actually, it's a good idea to have a solid grounding in all these anyway, but Tarot and Astrology do provide shortcuts and for some people clarification. For others, they are nonsense.
The point is that somewhere inside the amateur and the professional writer lies something totally personal, absolutely unique, the purest definition of Identity, which is at the same time also completely universal, utterly common, the purest definition of Society.
Astrology depicts this graphically in the opposition of the 1st House by the 7th House.
So, at the interface between the very, VERY personal -- and the infinite, the divine, the root commonality of all humanity -- Art is born.
At this innermost sanctum of your being, you grok or perceive the core pattern of existence, a core that you share with many other human beings, none of whom are anything like you.
Your recognition of what you have in common with others who are less articulate than you are is your stock in trade, the Art you can monetize commercially.
Yet your recognition has no value without that twist, turn, flip, color, depth, variation on the themes that is uniquely you.
Each human being is likewise unique.
One of the myriad things we have in common, and thus can learn from Art, is how each of us is unique and yet the same.
That's why Hollywood insists that scripts be "fresh and edgy -- totally original" and at the same time "exactly like some big, huge blockbuster success." Huge blockbuster successes are huge because they are rooted in an archetype, something Blake Snyder terms "Primal."
What we all find comfortably familiar is uniqueness.
The Art of storytelling lies in showing (without telling) the reader/viewer how the uniqueness of a character traces back down into the subconscious, deep, deep, abstract, theoretically, ineffably, to that divine spot in Creation where we are all the same.
The Artist (in any medium) connects the celebration of our uniqueness to the safety of our sameness.
That act of showing without telling the nature of the connection between the unique and the archetype is the one skill the professional has -- that the amateur doesn't (yet).
Depicting the connection can be learned -- maybe even taught.
SEEING that connection can not be learned or taught. It is the Art that is born within. It is the core skill of the magician -- perceiving the True Name of a Thing and thus gaining power over that thing.
It is a Gift.
Because of that universal fact, we have the burgeoning field of the Adult Fantasy novel -- thick novels filled with elaborate worldbuilding and characters who are born with magic, and others who are not. It's a juvenile premise -- some have Talent denied to others. But it's juvenile because it's primal, an archetype. Like all archetypes, it's both true and false at the same time. The Archetype exists above the level of reality where true and false first divide (see my books on The Tarot -- The Not So Minor Arcana.)
So the Artist's job is to connect the celebration of our uniqueness (the part the amateur writer gets very well indeed) to the more abstract security and safety of our sameness - the safety in numbers, the safety in protections of Law and Privilege and Riches, the safety of joining a gang, marrying a strong man.
The juxtaposition of Celebration and Safety -- exuberance and relaxation -- the simultaneous experience of these two opposites is exactly analogous to orgasm.
That's why the end of a book is called a climax.
The ability to find that connection is a Gift, a Talent -- a Vision. The connection itself is not yours. You don't own it. You don't have a proprietary interest in it. You can't sell it. The only thing that is yours, that you can sell, is your way of describing that connection.
We haven't discussed this aspect of writing before because the method relies on gaining a solid grasp of what Art is, where it comes from, and how to practice it, either commercially or as "fine art." Commercial fiction is one thing -- Creative Writing is another, more akin to "fine art" than to reaching a huge, artistically illiterate audience.
Previously, we've discussed the thematic sub-structure of various sized stories and how using that thematic backbone lets you paint on a much larger canvas, using more point of view characters.
All these different writing skills we've been discussing previously are actually not a hundred different, separate skills to be mastered only separately. They are actually just one single, unified thing.
Once you have:
1) read about one of these skills (Worldbuilding, Description, Dialogue, Action, Suspense, Exposition (yes, you need exposition, just not in lumps), Pacing, Dramatizing, Characterization, Motivation, Conflict, Resolution, Climax, etc etc)
2)read some more novels, dissecting out how different authors use these individual skills, then tried writing bits and pieces of something exercising that skill
3)then (and only then) you must start to practice integrating them.
Here we're talking about Art-Theme Integration, probably the easiest cross-term to master yet the hardest to describe.
With each and every individual writing skill, you work on it separately, master it separately (producing your million words for the garbage can because a finished Work needs all the skills simultaneously, but you must produce work which uses ONLY ONE skill at a time in order to train your subconscious), then integrate each separate skill with each and every previously mastered skill. Yep. Actually learn to walk and chew gum; pat your tummy and rub your head; whirl a plate on a stick and juggle four balls.
It's a program you put yourself through systematically. Writing is a performing art and you train to do it just exactly the way a ballet dancer trains for the Met. Ballet teachers don't let you go en pointe on day one of your training. Writing teachers don't let you start your magnum opus on day one of the class.
Like any performing art, writing takes training -- much more training than skill or even talent.
The more systematically you work on it -- the faster your subconscious will start to comply. Remember subconscious can not be taught, but it can be trained. It has the intelligence of a dog. You need kindness, consistency, and positive reinforcement not punishment to alter a behavior.
Well, all this is very nice -- very theoretical, very pie-in-the-sky, and very inspiring.
But HOW DO YOU DO IT??
What do you do with your mind to find that vision inside you which SEES the ART with which the universe is put together?
Very simple. You live in the real world. Daily. You pay attention to the real world around you.
That's how you train your subconscious to do fictional worldbuilding. It's the same training a graphic artist goes through. There's a trick to using your eyes to see what is there and how it would look in 2 dimensions that would suggest the 3rd dimension.
If your readers are going to believe the world you build -- it has to be congruent with the world they live in even though it lacks a dimension or more. So you need to learn a trick.
People (you included) live in their own subjective realities -- some components dictated by social sanction, some by personal needs, some by family needs, etc. but all very subjective.
Remember that THEME is a statement that your work of Art makes -- theme is what you have to say about that connection between the infinitely personal and the ineffably universal.
But if you simply write what you have worked out about that connection, you end up with (likely a better selling) a non-fiction work on a topic using a thesis, not a story about a character illustrating a theme.
The THEME is what you have to say. Once you have had "an idea" then traced it back to its roots in the ineffable which resides inside you, found how it connects to everyone else in the world, you are standing there in your mind looking at this discovery, screaming WOW!!!
Now you are seized with an irresistible urge to run back and TELL EVERYONE about this incredible discovery.
NOW I UNDERSTAND!!!! THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE KEY TO THE UNIVERSE! IF EVERYONE KNEW THIS THERE WOULDN'T BE ANY MORE WAR!!!!!!!!!!
That urge to TELL EVERYONE is your theme trying to be born out of your Art.
What are you going to SAY????? To whom? Who would have a chance of understanding this abstract, intangible, free floating feeling of a concept?
If you run out your front door and start babbling to the garbage truck driver -- what will happen?
In my first award winning novel, UNTO ZEOR, FOREVER,
(free chapters at http://www.simegen.com/writers/simegen/ and choose from menu on the left)
there's a quotation I wrote as part of the thematic statement of the novel. This was my second published novel and I did attempt more skills than I had. So I used a "device" to nail the theme -- quotations from a hypothetical work. One of them does, I believe, hold true in the real world.
"You can not give Wisdom as a Gift."
You can't tell someone a fact and transfer your wisdom into their heads.
And if you manage to couch the fact in Art and weave a novel around it -- the readers won't gain the wisdom you injected into it.
Marion Zimmer Bradley quoted this quote: The book the reader reads is not the book the writer wrote.
And that's OK. The reader shouldn't be reading YOUR book. That's what professionals understand that amateurs don't.
Make that credo your touchstone. The book the reader reads is not the book the writer wrote.
You can't go into that astral plane space in your head and bring back wisdom and inject it into the heads of your readers.
All you can do is assure them that there is a connection between their personal individuality and something larger that all humanity shares -- maybe with other species on other planets, too.
Yeah, I know -- that doesn't help at all when you're burning up to TELL THEM EVERYTHING.
So you must take this inner Artistic vision and turn it into 1 to 4 clean, clear, related, statements. This will be the theme, and maybe as many as 3 sub-themes that form the backbone of your work.
Everything in the work will either be derived from the theme or you will have to go through on second draft and select one of the themes from the pea-soup you wrote and then delete everything that doesn't explicate that theme. It's work. It's what you do for a living. Delete.
It's a process. It takes practice to do it with precision.
Now, how do you tell if you've arrived at a thematic statement derived from your artistic vision that actually does reside within most all humanity? Or at least your audience?
You can get lost in your imagination. You need to do a reality check both before you dive into your mind to find the connection between your view of reality and everyone else's view of reality -- and after you've returned with your theme burning holes in your mind.
There are a lot of things writers do on a day to day basis that fosters the subconscious' ability to identify these "universal themes" and to particularize or individualize the universality into something unique that is not the writer's own self.
A lot of writers just wander over to the mall, sit on a bench and people-watch. Actors do that too.
Some go to movies and watch the audience at least as much as they watch the movie.
Some join clubs, do volunteer work, work for the Red Cross disaster services, volunteer for political campaigns. Well, everyone does something like that -- but writers spend their time while doing these things OBSERVING.
That's the key word. OBSERVING. Just like a graphic artist. Just like any performing artist.
Performing Arts usually require 2 opposite skills. First there's the writer who creates the script -- then the actors who perform it. The choreographer who designs the dance -- the dancers who perform it.
Writers find their "script" or choreography or sheet music on the astral plane, in that space inside where the individual connects to the ineffable. The UNIVERSE is already written -- it's your script. Once you've been given your script, you must perform it.
By training your ability to OBSERVE -- like a detective, or a professional athelete, or a river boat pilot, an actor, a musician learning a song by hearing it -- honing your ability to observe until you could happily trust your life to it, you train your subconscious to see the patterns beneath reality.
You will know you have a viable commercial property when you find a self-indulgent, personally inspired IDEA connected to an Archetype which you have seen expressed in your outer-reality in several ways recently. When that happens, it means the universal consciousness is engaged in the issue and ready to listen to what you have to say on the subject. When you have a MATCH between the archetype you have discovered and the subject a lot of people are engaged in, you have a commercial property.
And you can talk about that idea, rave about it to everyone, try your best to 'GIVE IT AWAY' and you won't be able to.
It's commerical value can't be stolen from you, plagiarized, etc -- because it arises from the Art which is uniquely your own. No matter how you shout about it -- no other writer will be able to write your book.
Of course, after you've put all the words down -- yeah, people can steal your words, so they have to be protected by copyright every which way you can think of.
That's the business of writing.
But the professional knows that ideas are cheap, plentiful, but can't be stolen.
Nobody is interested in your personal ideas except you. What is personal to you is personal to you -- boring to anyone else.
Read some biographies and you'll see. What is interesting about a unique person is how they are actually just like you and me.
Isn't that what people are searching for in a Presidential Candidate? Someone they can relate to who understands what life is like for them?
So how do you pull this off? How do you train yourself to see, at one and the same instant, both the intensely personal and the unifying ineffable?
Watch television. You never know what you'll see after you've spent some years training your OBSERVATIONAL SKILLS.
Here's an example. Very personal.
I recently watched a few clips of the Summer Olympic games in China. And I've seen many news clips of Chinese government meetings, stock trading floors, etc. And there were a number of clips I saw of Chinese rescue officials working after a big earthquake.
I SAW at that time, the visible evidence of the underlying social sanctions of the Ancient and Modern Chinese culture -- which I know from archeology and anthropology go back thousands of years.
China is a culture where the individual is secondary, the family, the town, the group is primary. The family name is given first -- the personal name second -- and they don't put a comma between to show they've been reversed in order.
The value of the individual is how they FIT IN - how they are THE SAME. People who work in an assembly plant wear uniforms. They move the same. They gather at the same hour before work to do Tai Chi or some exercises -- all in UNISON.
This never astonished me or attracted my attention before the 2008 political conventions were broadcast.
Of course, China is like that. We all know that. What's to notice?
Many times, I've heard interviews with business people in the new China where it is possible for private individuals to establish businesses. Over and over, I've heard native Chinese who were educated in America point out that China doesn't INNOVATE -- but they're real real good at copying.
With the heating up of the 2008 political campaigns, I had occasion to stare at the US Natal Chart -- we have an Aquarius MC with an Aquarius Moon right on the MC. Our business in the world, our reason for existence is to be DIFFERENT. To Innovate. To Need Freedom! To be individuals first. We have a Cancer (home; mother; apple pie; nurturing; business incubators) on the 2nd House -- our main value is the FAMILY. But the family supports the individual -- not the other way around.
When I saw the conventions in the USA, (a lot of it I watched on C-SPAN so I saw things the networks neglected to broadcast because it's boring) I observed something I had seen before but not observed.
There were thousands of people in the auditorium (for both conventions - same image), and they were all dressed alike, but no two were wearing the same thing. Each day and evening had its "uniform." (casual; dress casual; office casual; semi-formal; formal) But G-d forbid two women would buy their dresses in the same store!
Well, no -- there were some delegations that had adopted hats, scarves, jackets to distinguish their state. DISTINGUISH their individuality. But even the people who were "in uniform" -- were all differently dressed in some other way. Balloons on their heads, stovepipe Dr. Seuss hat, etc. And their body language was distinctive, too.
A similar gathering of Chinese who were intent on the formal installation of a political figure to an office would have been really dressed alike. They would sit in their seats, feet on the floor, eyes front, and cheer in unison in all the right places. In China, ceremony is ceremony.
The USA delegations (both parties) during many of the speeches (except the main ones network broadcast, but even then!!!) milled about their seats, talked to people privately, totally self-absorbed in their conversations, came and went -- whole sections were empty at times -- stopped once in a while to applaud a speaker, and a few actually listened. But each adopted an individual seated posture.
Even during the major speeches, TV interviewers nabbed celebrities for an aside conversation while the other celebrity was speaking!
Both conventions' speakers were speaking to a milling throng of individuals, not an audience.
There I am paralyzed by this VISION -- what would a Chinese citizen who had never seen anything American in their life THINK of America to see this?
I know what I think of China to see the way they behave.
I have seen political conventions, and other huge gatherings of Americans on TV before, and the audiences looked normal to me, un-remarkable, practically invisible. Everyone is like that everywhere I go -- so what's to notice?
Suddenly - everything is to notice! That's what observation is.
My extremely negative reaction to Chinese public behavior must be mirrored in the average Chinese person's reaction to American public behavior.
I would assume the images of the convention delegates' behavior broadcast world wide by at least CNN, if not many other networks, must be telling the Chinese that Americans don't take government seriously, that these American people know they have no sayso in how this election comes out, all decisions are made in the back room just like in China, the people have no power, and that they really don't care who becomes President of the USA anyway. All Americans care about is themselves as individuals.
Most of all, those images of our public behavior have to mean to the Chinese that we have no strength, no substance, no guts, and will be easily beaten.
OK, you may disagree with "what" I saw and how I've expressed it here. That's actually good. It means you have a VISION and therefore are an ARTIST and will eventually find a THEME to turn into a novel.
My point is that from the ambient "reality" I have extracted a contrast-compare essay subject, two cultures alien to one another.
Take that attribute, individuality vs. the collective, and worldbuild a galactic civilization, find characters who are in conflict because of the differing philosophies -- and you have something which can communicate to all the people who have seen these TV images I've described (millions).
Translated into thematic language, you would have Individuality Poisons Society. Or maybe The Individual Must Reign Supreme. Only through the group can prosperity be safe. Humanity's progress depends on the individual secure in personal freedom.
Apply to that some specific individualities, connect the individuals to the archetypes, cut, trim and hone a theme from all that, and you are ready to plot a novel.
Well, you are ready if you've studied enough philosophy to understand the long history of the argument and conflict between the individual and the collective (1st House/ 7th House in Astrology -- which lies athwart the perennial conflict of 10th House, 4th House -- career and home).
You don't study philosophy etc to find out what you think. You need it to know what your readership thinks so you can talk to them in a language they understand.
There is an old adage that you have no doubt seen in almost every book on writing you've read: Write What You Know.
You can't do that if you don't know anything.
It doesn't mean use your own profession, home, family, neighbors, school, education or job as what you write about.
You know this cliche: "I've forgotten more about XYZ than you will ever know!"
What does that mean? Think about it. It means this elder has reached the point of being an ARTIST in his field -- working mostly from the subconscious and thus producing results far superior to those produced by a neo who has to think about everything.
What "you know" -- is what you've forgotten.
And that's what you should write about -- that's where your Art can define THEMES for you.
In order to have forgotten something -- you must first learn it.
So the business of being a commercial writer is the business of learning something about everything. There is no field that isn't professional training for a writer.
That's nice because writer-types generally have an eclectic and far-ranging curiosity about everything but don't tend to stick with a subject long enough to become professional in it, at least not unless it involves the use of words.
Once you have a firm grasp of how the world works, and how it looks and seems to others, you can build fictional worlds that seem realistic to others. To accomplish that, you will have to use Theme as your main Artistic Medium.
So if you're a professional writer, you have an excuse to self-indulgently become a dilettante!
But that only works if you then use what you've forgotten to produce deathless prose!
Jacqueline Lichtenberg
http://www.slantedconcept.com
http://www.simegen.com/jl/
More posts on Worldbuilding
http://aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com/2010/01/worldbuilding-for-science-fiction.html
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
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.
--------
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
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.
--------
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.
------------
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!"
------------
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.
---------
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.
------------
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
Friday, May 14, 2010
Blogger Award Goes Viral
Bloggers have started naming other bloggers for awards, and asking them to name others.
One of my readers on aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com was given such an award and turned around and listed me among others for this award.
And here are the "rules" for this viral award which was started by
http://lesasbookcritiques.blogspot.com/2010/01/inaugural-lesas-creative-writer-award.html :
1.Thank the person who gave this to you.
2.Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3.Link to the person who nominated you.
4.Tell us up to six outrageous lies about yourself, and at least one outrageous truth.
5.Allow your readers to guess which one or more are true.
5.Nominate seven "Creative Writers" who might have fun coming up with outrageous lies.
6.Post links to the seven blogs you nominate.
7.Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them.
So:
1. Dana Davis, a writer (good writer) see my review column ( http://www.simegen.com/reviews/rereadablebooks/2010/ ) gave me this award. Her website is http://blogs.myspace.com/danadaviswriting
2. Logo is up there
3. http://blogs.myspace.com/danadaviswriting
4. Tell-All Bytes
a) Couldn't learn to read until 5th grade
b) Never owned a dog
c) Have been owned by a cat
d) Read Andre Norton's novel STAR RANGERS 16 times before I lost count
e) Believed STAR TREK was World News the first moment I saw Spock's Ears.
f) Still convinced STAR TREK is the most important development in human history since the agricultural revolution
5. Here are 7 of the blogs I subscribe to (but don't always read)
a) http://spacefreighters.blogspot.com/
b) http://deborahmacgillivray.blogspot.com/ (a writer I review)
c) http://www.geezer-chick.com/ (a very informative personal log)
d) http://www.gointothestory.com/ (a screenwriting blog)
e) http://www.thegalaxyexpress.net/ (often references posts on aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com )
f) http://insidetrekker.blogspot.com/
g) http://vampchix.blogspot.com/ ( a fun spot for vampire fans)
So now to let them know and see if they want to play the game.
Jacqueline Lichtenberg
One of my readers on aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com was given such an award and turned around and listed me among others for this award.
And here are the "rules" for this viral award which was started by
http://lesasbookcritiques.blogspot.com/2010/01/inaugural-lesas-creative-writer-award.html :
1.Thank the person who gave this to you.
2.Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3.Link to the person who nominated you.
4.Tell us up to six outrageous lies about yourself, and at least one outrageous truth.
5.Allow your readers to guess which one or more are true.
5.Nominate seven "Creative Writers" who might have fun coming up with outrageous lies.
6.Post links to the seven blogs you nominate.
7.Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them.
So:
1. Dana Davis, a writer (good writer) see my review column ( http://www.simegen.com/reviews/rereadablebooks/2010/ ) gave me this award. Her website is http://blogs.myspace.com/danadaviswriting
2. Logo is up there
3. http://blogs.myspace.com/danadaviswriting
4. Tell-All Bytes
a) Couldn't learn to read until 5th grade
b) Never owned a dog
c) Have been owned by a cat
d) Read Andre Norton's novel STAR RANGERS 16 times before I lost count
e) Believed STAR TREK was World News the first moment I saw Spock's Ears.
f) Still convinced STAR TREK is the most important development in human history since the agricultural revolution
5. Here are 7 of the blogs I subscribe to (but don't always read)
a) http://spacefreighters.blogspot.com/
b) http://deborahmacgillivray.blogspot.com/ (a writer I review)
c) http://www.geezer-chick.com/ (a very informative personal log)
d) http://www.gointothestory.com/ (a screenwriting blog)
e) http://www.thegalaxyexpress.net/ (often references posts on aliendjinnromances.blogspot.com )
f) http://insidetrekker.blogspot.com/
g) http://vampchix.blogspot.com/ ( a fun spot for vampire fans)
So now to let them know and see if they want to play the game.
Jacqueline Lichtenberg
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