The White Page

For the Hatred of Twilight

2010-06-30T00:49:00.001-07:00

There is something utterly depressing about a work of fiction that is poorly executed. I've read my share and felt disappointment at the time I've wasted, the lack of quality in the work and the fact that somewhere out there is an editor who thought this book was worth sacrificing a forest for, or at least a buck-load of ink.

I am not a fan of writers who underestimate their readers. I've read books (cough The Da Vinci Code cough) where the writer seems terrified of being construed as a wrangler of difficult story lines and contrived motives and so he continuously repeats all the facts every five pages. This becomes annoying, especially because these facts keep building up in number until, around page 275, you have to read half a page of summary of things you have already gotten the hang of 200 pages earlier. But Stephanie Meyer is an author of a different breed. Her underestimating the reader has nothing to do with hammering the details of the plot home, because, let's face it, there are no plot details to hammer - what Meyer does is drop a hint that is so colossally obvious that it's more like a three-story billboard, before she moves passed it and brings it up... No, you know what, it's better with an example:

In Twilight, Jacob tells Bella of the cold ones and how there's a legend that his tribe turned into wolves way back when and fought them, protecting the innocents. Now, this coincides with the fact that a huge wolf, almost a bear, has been seen stalking around Forks (or in the woods or wherever). Shocker. What could it mean? There has been a slew of crappy Hollywood movies the past decade which have dealt with the war between vampires and werewolves. But Meyer doesn't seem to think that this was the most glaringly obvious thing she could have presented us with. No, instead she spends five hundred pages of New Moon having Jacob exhaustingly insisting that the nit-wit Bella "remember what he told her about the cold ones and the legend of his people" so that she can figure out exactly what the hell is making him act so weird.
Now, as I've only really read Twilight and skimmed through New Moon as I thought it was the biggest pile of crap I had ever had the displeasure of resting my eyes on, people may argue that I have no right to speak so loudly about this. But I do, I do have a right. Because it's enough to read and skim through two of these books to form a firm opinion about the Twiverse (non-existent).

The Characters: Bella is supposedly this middle aged teenager who constantly has to shoulder more responsibility than she should have to at her young age with not only a mother who can't really take care of herself, but also a football obsessed, beer drinking, disaster-of-a-cook dad. She's a clutz, which is thrown in there to make her likable and relatable: she has flaws, too, damn it! She doesn't see herself as the bell of the ball or anything superficial like that, but, of course, in reality, she is stunning.

Upon arriving at her new high school the entire male student body are entranced, and she's persued by... well, many of them. This might have worked if Bella wasn't such a self-obsessed, care-about-nothing-but-my-own-woes type of character. Does she ever think anything nice about anyone of the people surrounding her, fawning at her Texan elusiveness and dying to include her in their click? Does she ever feel gratitude for any of the welcome she receives or any of the attention she gets, or is it all awkwardness and uber-elusiveness? (Sidenote: yeah, it is.)
The only person that piques her interest is the equally elusive, equally pale, equally stunning Edward. He piques it to the extent of blast-off, and she realizes that she's in love with a vampire. Close-up. Fade to black. Cut to commercial. So far I thought Twilight was a fairly interesting book with the flattest language I had read in a long while, but clearly directed at the younger teen set so I thought it was alright.

However, in New Moon the bizarro traits of Bella's character become alarmingly apparent, the loudest being the fact that she's suicidal without Edward. For someone to lock themselves away for three months is not only unbelievable, even in Teen-Angst World, it's also extraordinarly unhealthy. My beloved grandmother passed away and though I'm still grieving her everyday, I was able to pick myself up and carry on with the day-to-day within a week, because there's never any choice but to pick yourself up and carry on. When Bella finally emerges from her chambers she's like someone already dead to the world, and the only way she can feel alive is to put herself in situations of mortal peril, because then she can hear Edward's voice. Consider the message Meyer is sending to impressionable teenage readers all over the world - it's horrifying.

Bella is not a strong protagonist, most of the things that happen are done to her, she has no drive in her own story whatsoever apart from The Choice she has to make between Edward and Jacob - more of that later - and the fact that she's the catalyst for a war between two races that have been coping fairly peacefully with each other until now. I don't know if it's laughably tragic or tragically laughable.

The Characters: Edward. Yeah, I know, what character?
Well, he's old, he speaks funny, which really he doesn't, he talks like a normal seven-teen year old, or possibly twenty-year old American. Meyer states through Bella that when he speaks he sounds old and refined, but she never exemplifies this in his dialogue.
He clearly likes to show off his intelligence by quoting the most over-used-to-show-off-intelligence Shakespearian play of all time, and of course there's the Meyer creature also wanting to elude to whatever linkage she perceives between the work of the greatest and most influential writer in history and that which is done by her bleeding pen. (It boggles the mind. Truly.)
He likes to hunt animals in the woods.
He doesn't like to bite people.
He thinks marriage should come before death (even though isn't it "until death do us part" so the marriage would, in effect, be null and void as soon as he bites her).
He glitters in the freaking sun.
He can read minds, but not Bella's, which is one of the saddest parts of this whole tale because he actually falls in love with her by default, doesn't he? Yeah. And poor Bella is too much of a nit-wit to see it. I'm sure that, after half an eternity together, she would put two and two together and they would have a quiet, two hundred page row about it where every other sentence is repeated back at the other.
He doesn't like werewolves.
He drives a shiny, shiny car and he drives it fast, fast, fast. (You would too, if you were immortal. Oh, right, Bella's usually in the car with him. Oh, well.)
He can run like the wind. Faster than the eye can see. Still he pays for petrol. Go figure.
He crawls in through closed windows and stands in the darkness of your room at the foot of your bed and stares at you, in the darkness of your room from the foot of your bed, for hours without making a noise or telling you about it or asking for permission. (What's the technical term for that again? Stalker, right. But what's more disturbing is that Bella finds it endearing and flattering and wonderful. Hello!)
He glitters in the freaking sun.

Not a whole lot of personality here, mostly traits that are so shallow it's hard to understand what the allure is, apart from his ever-repeated angelic good looks.

The Characters: Jacob is a macho hunky, boy-next-door smashed-into-one type of character who has the pride of his native american heritage straightening his backbone and his sights set on Bella. All he does in every scene is try to get close to, protect and/or tell Bella of his feelings for her - his entire existence in the book is centered around Bella, which makes him truly dull indeed. The fact that he's a werewolf doesn't even heighten their relationship or put a twist on anything as it's so apparent from the get-go what he's about, it's only highly ironic that the two men Bella should even be mildly attracted to are both of a supernatural origin. I'm sure Meyer saw this as a perfect set-up for Bella actually turning into a vampire herself - she's so clearly supposed to not be a mere human; but it feels contrived to me, as does so much of the lacklustre love story that is the entire plot of the Twilight Saga.

And the rest of the characters are only fillers to try and create some sort of society around Bella and Edward. Bella's friends at school are of no real consequence except to depict Bella interacting with friends at school. Even though they're really more of acquaintances as it is. Edward's "family" are only there to illustrate where Edward comes from and who taught him that it's naughty to chew on humans. Also, they offer up a bleak opposite to Bella's broken home and inapt parents, a real family that she ultimately longs to be a part of. Jacob's friends and family are only there to make up a pack of werewolves, they barely have different personalitites to them and none of these filler-characters have any kind of depth or any true purpose to serve, apart, perhaps for Alice, with her seer ability. Even though I think it's a cheap ploy to simplify the story telling for Meyer, to have someone who can deliver what's going to happen through dialogue and save Meyer the time to have to plot out how the characters might find the information out for themselves. The Volturi are only there to throw in a bit of history (the intelligence-show-off again) and a scenery change, although Italy sure felt like Southern Alabama to me.

The Plot is truly non-existent in these books. There's some sort of war brewing in the background of Bella and Edward's mundane dialogues, but, as said, I can't comment since I haven't read the third or fourth books. All I can say is that I'm sure whatever is about to go down takes a backseat to Bella and Edward getting hitched and starting a family.

I find it rather saddening to think of the potential that the Twilight Saga might have had. I see opportunity for truly great drama in the books I've read. With more vivid character and place description, with dialogue that doesn't read like they're strangers reciting the phone book at one another and with an actual story line that had a plot that, yes, was character driven, but had situations where those characters had to react without the person they can't live without - literally - having to be in danger of death and destruction, these books could have been rather compelling. The story is age-old and has been done before, indeed, but so has practically everything else. It's what you do with the trite and the tried that sets you apart from the rest. The fact that Meyer steals most of her inspiration so clearly from other works of fiction makes the Twilight Saga all the more lacking in originality.

I have good friends who love the series (though they admit to New Moon being the most boring part of the four, mostly due to the lack of Edward in it. Oh, shudder. But at least it's a glimmer of sanity) and it absolutely does not compute with me that half the world is absolutely beguiled by this piece of garbage. I can understand that people love a good, intense, charged coupling - I do as much as the next person - but there's nothing good, intense or charged about Bella and Edward if you look at them closely.

¤ They get together after not even half of Twilight has progressed.
¤ They're entire relationship consists of wanting to be together forever and inventing obstacles between themselves why they can't be and even these obstacles are uninteresting and generic. (Edward doesn't want to damn Bella into his glittering disco-ball existence, Bella is scared of coming off as a cliché if she marries her high school sweetheart at eighteen. Yeah, thanks for pointing that out, Stephanie Meyer.)
¤ The fact that Jacob is hovering in the background is the most boringest attempt at bringing some sort of tension back in the books that I have ever read.

And that's it. There's no real drama here, all of their problems are prounounced through dialogue more than they are through action in endless discussions on the subject matter and in endless in-Bella's-head-monologues which are written in such a bland, blank language that no real emotion can be derrived from them apart from Bella trying to tell herself that she's more grown-up than what her forever analytical rants and actual actions tell us she is. She behaves like she's younger than seventeen for most of the books, with no self-awareness, identity or strength of character whatsoever. Seriously, list ten things about their relationship that doesn't have to do with forever, vampires or love - I freaking dare you.

Now, let's tackle The Love Triangle, shall we? The fact that Meyer tries to fool her audience into sitting on pins and root for Bella to choose Edward when it's so clear that there's really no choice to be made sickens me. It shows such low regard for the reading public, as well as such little investment in and knowledge of her own characters, that it makes me feel physically ill. Bella can't live without Edward, this repeatedly stated fact makes it a completely absurd addition to this tale that she would be cozying it up to the fuzzy wolf-man and forget all about the earth-shattering, mind-blowing beauty of her vampire.

Lastly, I just have to wonder at the editor who has sacrificed three or four forests to publish this piece of crap embarrassment. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!

Read It: Let the Right One In

2009-02-05T01:52:00.000-08:00

Twelve year old Oscar has no friends, he lives with his mother in the community of Blackeberg outside of Stockholm and his days are filled with getting picked on by his classmates and hiding it from his mother. Until one day he meets Eli, a little girl, the same age as him, who has just moved into the same apartment block with her dad. Eli and Oskar strike up a timid friendship that soon deepens and brings quiet hope into Oskar's existence.
But everything is not as it should be in Blackeberg. A teenage boy is found murdered, drained of blood, and the community is wrought up tight as it waits for the horrific crime to be solved. And Oskar begins to notice things about his new friend; how she never is about during the day, and only comes out to play after dark.

Let the Right One In is a story of heartache, sorrow, hatred, love and friendship, but even more than all those things, it's a story, I feel, about being trapped in your own circumstances and being unable to find your way out of them. It beautifully portrays what happens with our actions once the rings on the surface of our everyday begins to spread and affect those around us. I would recommend you go out and buy this book immediately. John Ajvide Lindquist has managed to write a horror novel that both frightens and touches you to the core.

People

2009-01-20T04:27:00.000-08:00

When trying to wrap my mind around a new character it's always - naturally - good to have own experiences to go on. It's not always possible, for example: I've never actually encountered a vampire, or stood in the presence of a wolf in a lone forest, or been to France, so what to do then? Well, imagination goes a long way, but as a foundation for it I need something tangible or what I write won't sound true, and the truth is necessary to manage the trick of making the reader believe in it, even if the situation is stemming only from my own mind.

So, for that first example, I draw from what I know of vampires - the old clichés, the new ways that have already been created to view them, and then I pick and choose what I am to use.

The one thing that I don't mess with when it comes to vampires and their folklore is the allergic-to-daylight bit. They cannot exist in daylight, and that's that. As for all the rest, I take what I know of how they've been portrayed throughout history and literature and I weave my vampire character around these facts, even if I leave most of them out of him or her. Once I know my vampire, I can begin to imagine what I might feel if I ever encountered him or her, and presto - I'm ready to write my story, because the humans that are meant to be in it will ring true since I can now empathise with them.

Empathy is one of the big commodities for a writer, I believe; the ability to put yourself in someone elses shoes. You can't personally be every single character - you have to go out of yourself and be inspired by people you know or have met and base characters on them - but for you to infuse them with actual life you will have to write them with delicate fingertips and truly understand them. Psychology is a good thing to know a bit about for this. :)

It's difficult to make every character separate from each other and yet interact in a casual and un-forced way, but once you've written fifty pages or so, you will begin to learn their habits, and you will begin to know what it is you want them to do, what their story is. They reveal it to you as you go along, and even though you can guide them sometimes, those first pages are almost always theirs and not yours. It's very cool.

Of course, research is inevitable when writing about places you've never seen or times in history that you haven't lived through. My latest project that needed a lot of research I believe I will actually research lightly as I write it, get the gist of what it is I'm trying and wishing to say - it begins in the 1100's and spans 800 years into the present day - and once the book is actually finished, and I have figured out where the characters are going and why, then I will begin researching it more heavily, breathing more life and authenticity into the pages dealing with surrounding and behaviour. Of course, some of the ground work for what the era encompassed, both in human thinking and doing, must be found out beforehand. Partly because it will keep the characters in character for that time, but mostly because the storyline needs to see my main character grow and learn from her experiences, and how can I empathize with her if I have no idea what she would be seeing, remembering and learning from?

Without

2009-01-11T03:01:00.000-08:00

The images above are from the finished product stemming from a short film script that I wrote a year and a half ago. I'm so excited looking at these stills because I was unable to be there for the big filming event, and it's the first substantial confirmation I've had that the short has been completed. It is ready for distribution among whatever festivals its director and producer - Natalia Andreadis - sees fit and this is even more exciting to me because I can actually list this film on my rapsheet. Natalia is absolutely amazing and has done a stellar job. I could not be happier with the result. She took my vision and made it her own and it has worked beautifully. I can only thank her most humbly! :)

My Rejection from Eyeshot... :)

2008-12-14T11:17:00.000-08:00

Re: submission: Flesh of the Bones of a Body‏
From: Lee Klein (lee@eyeshot.net)
Sent: 13th of December 2008 17:55:06
To: Annelie Widholm

Hi - thanks for sending this - I like the instinct of the prose, words rolling over words etc as you described it - but maybe with this one I couldn't quite see too deeply beyond the language (a few errors in there distracted too). When you got to Susie I really wasn't engaged enough to see this name come to life. Maybe that's my fault. But again I like the instinct, just prefer to SEE a world more than see language, or more so: I prefer to see both simulatneously, like chewing gum and walking . . . Thanks for sending this and sorry and good luck and send more whenever.

Lee

Sample Review: "Buried" by Jeremiah Nemeth

2008-12-12T07:23:00.000-08:00

I was once right there, where some of you surely are - working hard to construct proper feedback for someone else's work and feeling that you're not entirely sure of what you're doing. I would love to offer some guidance to anyone out there who feel that reviewing other people's work is the trickiest thing in the world. Here's one of my reviews, left for a fellow screenwriter on Zoetrope.

Dear Jeremiah -

let me begin by giving you props for finishing your screenplay! Celebration all around!

Also, I would like to commend you on your dialogue, which I thought was truly great and flowed with ease on the page sometimes, while at others it full-on shone! Let me give you the moments I thought worked especially well:

BRANDO
Try to sucker you
into a fuckin’...
Makes air quotation marks.
...“relationship”.

I thought this was the first truly funny bit of your screenplay. It created a nice, quick visual of Brando making the ironic gesture while speaking the abhorred word.

MRS. ANDERSON
Is he a cop also?

BRANDO
No. He’s a criminal.

Funny, dude!

GLOVES
You don't fuck... with the Canuck.

This line was great in its rather slow, deliberate delivery, to then be declared unintentional. It was a really nice twist and brought the line home for me.

The driver is LESTER DEEDS(28). He is overly dressed in an Armani suit, looks out of place in the beat up jalopy he drove up in.

Very strong, nice visual of the first impression this man makes. He's out of place in the car, he's out of place in the suit itself, and out of place in the dirty part of the world he's in, since he's really a cop. It totally works!

I thought the exchange between Debbie, Brando and Jake was nicely constructed when Debbie held the lesson on the two types of BJ's. Well done!

Jake spits some half chewed hamburger onto his tray, looks over to a stunned Brando.

JAKE
Wait. It woulda been more dramatic mid-drink.

Jake takes a giant swig of Soda -

- BLASTS the soda all over Mike’s face, acts surprised.

Mike wipes the soda from his eyes, nods and smiles. Should of seen it coming.

Brando gives Jake a look. Turns to Mike.

I just love this part. It's great! Small correction - he should have seen it coming, not should of seen it coming. Other than that, the mood and tone are beautiful and how Brando merely gives Jake that slight look before turning to Mike just punctuates the sort of friendship these guys have. It's lovely.

These were not all, but most of the parts of the script that really stuck out to me and that I wouldn't tell you to cut or change around, at least not too much. Ready for the constructive part of the criticism? Alright, here we go:

While I just loved most of the dialogue, I had a few structural concerns. I've been taught that the ... should never appear in a screenplay, but instead we use the -- if someone is trailing off or possibly when they're cut off mid-sentence. Otherwise a full stop should be used. I'm not telling you this is how it is, simply the way I've been taught. Here's an example:

As Debbie is now gone.

JAKE
(mouth still full)
I like her.

MIKE
I’m glad you said that--

He looks around nervously, leans in.

MIKE (CONT’D)
--she’s gonna be our fourth.

I would also like to give you a heads up on your description lacking much description. To be honest, the whole screenplay was rather blank of any scenery or settings whatsoever. A room was a room, outdoors was outdoors. It makes the read a little bit flat and it makes it slightly more difficult for me to actually find a visual for this world you're trying to draw me into. Another example:

Your version -

INT. KITCHEN-SAME

Three boys sit at the kitchen table playing ‘draw’ poker.

My attempt -

INT. KITCHEN - DAY (I have been taught to believe that Same and Later are overrated and shouldn't be used too much. Showing the reader of your script whether it's Night or Day is, in my humble opinion, all that is really necessary to help their mind set the background of the scene. If the scenes follow after one another, that will be apparent anyway. Sorry, completely sidetracked here. On with the scene itself--)

The room is small. Worn linoleum covers the floor, a few of the kitchen cabinets hang slightly askew and one is glaringly missing its knob. The refridgerator hums against one wall. A clock ticks somewhere not too far off.

At the kitchen table sit three young BOYS. They have playcards in their hands and focused looks on their faces. CANDY is scattered all over the table.

See what I mean? There's a need for you to set the scene, you need to decide the surroundings, and the visual impression that goes with it. You have to decide if the kitchen is airy and light, homely, clean, is there a mother around to clean it - no. Are they in a wealthy part of the city - no. Little snippets of information can be infused into Description, which are as vital as where the storyline takes me as the reader, as well as the dialogue between the characters. I'm not assuming that you don't know this already. I've been wrapped up in my characters, too, and they have run away with me and I've left the description behind as well, but I thought it important that I point it out to you in case you've missed it. Description is where you get a chance to subtly make your voice heard, as well as create a nice backdrop for your characters. It's incredibly important to your script as a whole, and there was barely any of it in there. I think I brought up the few truly stellar visuals in the portion above, listing my likes.

I also sometimes found your use of description to be mildly confusing and it was hard for me to create a clear visual from what you were describing. Let me try to show you what I mean by using, yes, yet another example. (Isn't this exciting?) :)

What you wrote:

CAPTION: NINE YEARS EARLIER

INT. BEDROOM- DAY

Still of Gloves spanking a young Mike.

Gloves drops the hammer. Same spanking from opening scene.

Gloves eventually tires to a stop.

Little Mike runs off, crying. Gloves looks on. Visibly regrets hitting him.

My explanation of my confusion:

"Still of Gloves spanking a young Mike." - I'm with you there - a freeze-frame of Mike getting spanked, from a scene earlier in the script.
"Gloves drops the hammer." - I was visually confused here. I understand the expression to "drop the hammer", "lay down the law" whatever. But I think it's too strong for this context, as a hammer can be used as a tool to harm someone. When reading too quickly, my mind didn't connect and I had to go back and re-read. (Might just be me being slow, of course)
"Same spanking from opening scene." - this REALLY confused me. There was no spanking in your opening scene - as in, the opening scene of the script and that is, generally, what referring to the "opening scene" means. If you meant the opening line of the current scene, then this needs to be cleared up, and I'm not even sure you need the referral at all.
As you opened with a Still or a Freeze Frame of the beating Mike took earlier on in the script, it jolted me a bit when the action was so suddenly moving forward. Here's what I might do to clean it up a little:

CAPTION: NINE YEARS EARLIER

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

A frozen frame of Gloves spanking a young Mike.

His hand begins to unfreeze, slowly starting to move down through the air toward Mike's behind, the hand picks up speed until CLATCH it's in real time as the scene plays out.

Mike is crying, but Gloves is dropping a hammer that he feels needs to be dropped. Eventually he tires to a stop.

Little Mike runs off, crying. Gloves glances toward the door. He visibly regrets hitting him.

I even worked the dropping the hammer bit in there. :) What do you think? See where I'm coming from with it?

And then there were a bunch of little irks I had with the text that made it not make much sense to me. I'll give you a few, with explanations, and you might see what I mean:

In the beginning you have Mike's brother watching TV. I jotted down a note about it not being believable that a child that young would simply turn off the TV on his own accord and follow his brother upstairs without even one line of dialogue telling him to come. There would be whining, probably, and perhaps Mike would have to promise he could continue to watch TV upstairs instead. Now - having read the entire script - I find the presence of the brother to be unnecessary, as he doesn't return as a character. I say, cut him.

I like the name Brando for Brando, but then you have Glover for Gloves, making me think of Danny Glover, and it started to feel like you would have Pacino and Gibson join in with the boys any second. Just a first impression I'd like to make you aware of.

GLOVES
As you know...I don’t conduct
business here. Now I’m askin’ you
boys nicely to leave. But askin’
“nicely”...that there’s a limited
time offer.

Whoa! This was muddled, my friend. Took me five read-throughs to get what you were trying to say with it.

GLOVES
As you know, I don’t conduct
business here. Now I’m askin’ you
boys nicely to leave, but askin’
“nicely” - that there’s a limited
time offer.

Little less muddled. Agree?

I also thought that you could have made the hitmen sweat a bit more. Gloves is a pretty darn gosh good character. He's really very cool. And the set-up with the cane being a sword (though I recognize it strongly from somewhere... only I think that time the cane was a gun) was great. I thought the description around how the cane turned out to be a sword was another rather confusing part, description wise, but I won't get into it now. What I'm trying to get at is that if Boo-Boo knows Gloves since old, I feel he shouldn't be surprised at what happens when they enter Gloves' sanctuary bearing weapons. His reaction and following comment to Yogi should have been more along the lines of "Aw, shit. Now, what the fuck did I tell you before we walked through the door? Hmh? Fuck." Or something not far from that. Get me?

I found this transition to be perplexing, on page 45:

As he sets the case into the darkness of the safe...

INT. RANDOM BED ROOM- PRESENT DAY

Jake, in his work clothes -

- urinating in the middle of a bedroom floor.

The "..." lead to no conclusion whatsoever, and yes, it's true that you shouldn't underestimate your reader and treat them as though they need everything pointed out to them and repeated into oblivion, but you also cannot expect me to understand what those dots symbolize. They would be instead of a "--", which would mean that the Scene Heading which follows it would be having something to do with it, but it doesn't. Consider:

He sets the case into the darkness of the safe.

END FLASHBACK.

INT. BEDROOM - DAY

The room is cream-colored and minimalistic, nothing but a bed, a nightstand and a cream-shaded painting on the wall taking up any of the space. That is, if you don't count Jake.

He is wearing his work uniform and is carelessly urinating into the thick cream-colored carpet covering the floor.

I've always felt that a script should be to the point. It's such a narrow space to play with words, and so you should play with them where it does most good - in the direction and dialogue - and keep the rest of the script as clean-cut as possible. It's good to leave room for the imagination, but using RANDOM in your scene heading, to me, only makes me feel lost and as though I have to do a lot of the ground work that should have been done by you. This is your vision, after all, not mine. You should want to bring me into it, not leave loose ends hanging. They're only disorienting, trust me! Tie them up! Make the description count for something. Show me where the characters are, and let their surroundings reflect on their personalities and situation.

I had one big issue with the plotline: It was never clear to me why the money had been left in the safe for nine years while the house was sold to strangers. I would think, that kind of money and none of them in jail, they would let matters settle down after the Marrick brothers' execution, and then they would covertly collect the treasure. This is a plot hole in need of filling.

On the topic of the Marrick brother's, would Martin actually kill them in the police station, where witnesses knew he was the last one to see them etcetera? Okay, you put Jail Kitchen, but this seems an even less plausible place for him offing them. It's completely unrealistic, I'm sure you see that to, nay? You need to change the scenery there, I think.

Alright, I'm going to wrap this review up here with these words - I really, really think you know how to build a good story, with believable characters. The interaction between the friends were great. So was Debbie thrown into the mix. I really loved the Gloves character and I thought the Julian Martin Lester twist at the end was quite good. Do a few rewrites, go through the script and look for mistakes and places that might feel a little unclear and you're well on your way to having a very nice script on your hands! Thanks for the hours well spent!

Best of luck,
Annelie.

And to break it down, here's really all you need to remember when writing a review that shouldn't offend, but be supportive and helpful (which I hope the above was):

Begin with highlighting the positive, this will make it easier for the writer to ease into the constructive criticism.

Continue with digging deep into the constructive, remembering here to try and be as specific as you possibly can be, because an unfinished sentence that leaves room for interpretation can be interpreted as snotty, rude, any number of things that makes the writer less inclined to listen to your advice, however well-meant it might have been.

End with underlining the positive, leaving the writer with a sense of hope, so that they're eager to get back to work and make their story stronger and better than ever.

Best of luck!

My Submission to Eyeshot...

2008-12-10T13:28:00.000-08:00

In my eyes you're the rotting flesh of the bones of a body already dying, and when I rip into you, you barely even feel it; those tears in your eyes, welling up in your eyes, show your gratitude, your happiness in the moment of death: I bring you peace; I allow you to surrender, to give it all away, all the obsessing over your hair is too flat, but your stomachs all bloated and your feet always hurt but you can't buy new shoes 'cause there's rent to pay and mouths that so badly needs to chew and chew and chew away at your will to live.

You said it.

You said Sometimes I Have No Real Will To Live - and it was so simple and plain and direct that I knew it had to be the truth. You pride yourself in being a slave to the Blackberry and the IKEA blackboard in your kitchen and the hand on your thigh from your slave husband that signals his need to plunge himself into you and drip drip drip forth new life, but that's the lie, when your mouth, your lips tell me that you look for an escape every single morning before forcing yourself to rise and go on. Go on. You can let go.

Your flesh tear. In this moment I usually hold on tight. You don't know of the others. Maybe you'll meet them. Like Susie.

No more burned toast, no more runny eggs, no more fearing your reflection (the wrinkles making you stop smiling), no more clingy in-laws with their sticky friendliness, no more kids yelling for their mommy. Rest.

The blade is biting into the skin of your belly, looking as though it's being swallowed, inch-by-inch, by a shapeless, lip-less mouth, pursed around the stainless steel - hungry - submissive - welcoming. All skin is like that when a blade touches it. It opens itself up with eagerness, showing its true color in something I've always considered pride. I stroke the blood onto my fingers and draw lines across my face to show I honor it; I am the Angel; I am the One Out; Single Salvation; you recognized me and so did those who came before you. You will meet them, I think. Like little Susie Salmon in the story you read from once - you said it moved you, but you stood stock still and I secretely thought you were mocking me with the expression, which I hadn't if you'd even raised a hand to your temple, but you didn't, you just stood there and talked about a dead character in a book - how you really cared about her, how you'd cried many times seeing your eldest [Amanda] in everything Susie said, everything Susie did. Everything happening to Susie. Poor Susie, you said. I know what you're thinking now, I know what you're feeling: tiny pebbles down your back and thoughts as blank as the untouched snow in the backyard; the kids will ruin it for sure, but your brow doesn't have to crinkle as you see the prestine visual be desecrated by little feet - you will be too high up to see it. You will be safe.

I let my hold go and I let it lie down, I leave the blade in it, in the flesh of the bones that will be rotting off the dead body that bears your face and can show the one who will find it that you left it in the way I intended. I correct my watch, hanging limp off my wrist, always half a size too big - time is not my ally - and I stare it in the face with reproach of its rush rush rushing along much quicker than anticipated. There's the car door; there's the sharp giggle that, had you been here to hear it, would have signaled you to put your mother-face on: laughs, kisses, hugs, applauds at random scribbles called Today's Artwork and proud pats on heads and immediate magnet-supplemented adding to the other pictures decorating the refridgerator and God and his angels and the Devil and his demons all wonder with me how you trapped yourself in this existence, this half-life, this unawareness of what burdens you have placed on your thin shoulders, unnecessarily. Tragic.

Tragic is the way the mundane approaches in the guise of stability, harmony, prayers being answered, to wrap itself around you as if warming you, never leaving room for interpretation, for the heat to rise above what's comfortable, for the realization to hit before the seconds have rolled by that would have made it possible for you to break its habit.

I am freedom.

You don't have to worry about a thing, I promise you, I will free them too, and your family will be intact, preserved and safe - forever.

Here they come.

A View of the Thames

2008-12-10T10:08:00.000-08:00

I had one of those uber-vivid dreams last night, where I actually got confused when my alarm clock woke me up in the middle of it.

Before I tell it to you, let me give you some background story:

About a year ago I came home from working as a mother's help in London. I was employed by Mr. and Mrs. B and got along really well with them. They have three gorgeous boys and has recently gotten an addition to the family, but I've yet to meet her. Since I got back home, I've moved into my first apartment and I'm so in love with it I sometimes wish I could go Brad-Pitt-in-FightClub on it and just blow all my possessions to bits. My God, the things you own truly does end up owning you. But, I'm in love, and so toughts of fire or breakage of any type sends actual chills down my spine.

Bet you think my dream was about my apartment exploding.

It wasn't.

Actually, it was a very nice dream, and I will get to my point once I've told you what it was.

I dreamed that I was back in London, working for Mr. and Mrs. B, and feeling quite happy with the situation. I loved being back in Town, and spending time with the boys - I miss them dearly. But there was a nagging feeling at the back of my head of something not being quite right.

When I worked for them in reality, I was a live-in. In my dream, they had gotten me an amazing apartment that was actually built so that it jutted out over the Thames, and I had huge panorama windows overlooking Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. It was awesome. (And not a little inspired by "Secret Diary of a Call Girl.") I lay in my bed that night and thought that, all things considered, this really wasn't that bad. And I slept. And I woke. And into my home strolled this pert young nanny with a baby on her hip. I had no idea what she was doing there until she opened her mouth and started talking about choosing which room should belong to who. Then I realized, to my horror, that she was my room-mate. I was going to share the place.

Hell no.

Luckily, as we were having breakfast, I saw Mr. B outside the window, which was thankful since I desperately needed to speak to him immediately. Mrs. B was there as well. I brought them onto the pateo and sat down opposite them, explaining how grateful I was to them for the opportunity, but telling them that the conditions were unacceptable, that I had made no promise to stay with them indefinitely, and that I still had my apartment back home.

I really missed my own, private, chosen corner of the world.

And when I woke up, at first, I could only think "Where am I?", but then I understood that I was home, that I hadn't had to travel all that distance and ride the bus and pay all that money to get there: all I needed to do was open my eyes. I was so relieved. And it felt, and still feels, so good to know that - however much I still want to get out there and travel some more in a year or two - for now I'm right where it makes me the happiest to be.

Contentment, people. It does wonders for the soul.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2008-12-06T12:59:00.000-08:00

Christmas.

There are so many visual stimulants pouring through my head at the mere word: Christmas stockings, Christmas trees, Christmas lights, Christmas shopping, Christmas food. There's that warm glow of candles on people's faces and the smell of oranges and gingerbread and glögg (which, I grant you, is a very Swedish scent, but still, it's Christmas for me.)

I bought a wonderful edition of Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" in a little antiques bookstore in London, and though this was printed in the forties and as such is hardly an antique, it's really charming and has illustrations in it that just elevates it even further. I read it last Christmas and I believe I shall do so again this year. It's such a fantastic story.

I'm a traditionalist when it comes to the big holidays. I dislike change and especially around Christmas, when I find it hard to retain that true magical feeling unless things are as they always were when I was little. My father said that this year he really would like to get a plastic tree to save the hazzle of caring for a real one - I berated him for ten minutes. Well, practically. At least I had mom on my side and he ended the argument by throwing his hands up in the air, stating that he had only been kidding. Yeah, nice going, dad, almost giving me a heart attack.

I'm currently working on a script taking place during Halloween. Yes, it's a horror script and yes, I'm unoriginal and boring, but it's actually coming along quite nicely. However, I do feel like writing something Christmas-y. I began a Christmas ghost story of my own last year that I never got around to finishing. Christmas turning into New Year turning into spring and summer and all that. I might stretch my fingers a little and see if I can't finish it this year. Maybe I'll even post it here.

Enjoy the season.
Send the love forward.

My Picture Challenge Response

2008-12-04T03:38:00.000-08:00

I woke early in the morning from the rain, smattering hard as nails on the tin roof, situated on the other side of the slanted roof of my bedroom. I lay under the duvet, pulling it up over my chilly shoulders and allowing my body heat to spread into the cool cotton of the duvet case, translating itself into warming my skin; as though the heat was on a loop from me to the fabric and back again.
I had dreamed something, but couldn't recall anything but the sensation of peace. I wished I could bring it forward as easily in my waking state as I had when sleeping. Now, with the light of the wide living room window reflecting itself against the whiteness of my walls and irreversably lighting up the gloom of my bedroom, I had to succumb to the fact that nothing had changed since yesterday. I had so hoped that it would.
I had prayed for a miracle to swoop down and save me from this half-life, where I felt I was on the brink of a great discovery that would send me into the adventures I so longed for, and yet it seemed I never quite tipped the edge. Balance.
"Balance yourself and you can accomplish anything," my mother had said encouragingly.
I was five years old and attempting to ride my bike without training wheels.
"Balance yourself and nothing will bring you out of focus," my mother had prompted.
I was fifteen and waiting to take the SAT's.
"Balance yourself," my mother asked me on the night my father left. "Because otherwise I'm afraid I might fall."
Balance.
The rain was harsh outside, as though it wished to drain the world, not be forced to look at the ugly brick buildings of our block anymore, but cover them in softly flowing currents and curdling waves.
I listened to my mother and I centered myself. I did it with the ardour of someone who wishes, more than anything, to please. But in succeeding, I stopped pleasing myself. Balance came at a cost, and my own free will began to seep out of me on the night my father decided that he could no longer live with us. My mother needed me, and I began to need her to the brink of seeing myself only through her eyes, waiting breathlessly for the next word out of her mouth so that I would know how to act, how to behave.
The rain beat down on the roof in a deafening tirade, as though it too wished to join in my berating of myself.
When had I transformed into this strange shell? When had I stopped wanting? Lately I had begun to ask myself these questions more and more frequently, but I couldn't quite bring myself to answer them. For years all I had wanted was for my father to come back to us, for us to be a family again - the family I had grown up in. He used to brush my mother's hair out of her face so tenderly and look at her with so much love. I couldn't understand how love like that could ever disappear. Where would it go? When my father failed to return, when he even stopped his regular calls, I supposed I began to loose faith. In everything.
I felt a cold drop of rain fall on my forehead.
Had I known what that drop of rain would signify, I wonder if I would have acted differently. However, I didn't know, and kicking the duvet off my legs I got out of bed and went to wake my mother.

Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy!

2008-12-04T02:25:00.000-08:00

I still feel very proud of myself that I made it. Yes, I do. I wrote 50 000 words in November (50 158, to be exact) and I met the National Novel Writing Month deadline by one day. I did a little happy dance in my chair when I watched the wordcount at the bottom of my Word document click itself passed 50 000; arms up in the air and booty sliding against the seat, oh yeah.

However, I am far from finished. And with this I don't mean that I have written a 50 000 word first draft of a book and am now looking down the barrel of editing and rewriting said draft.
No.
I mean that I have probably at least 150 000 more words to go before I even have a completed first draft, and part of me is actually looking forward to that barrel, because that would mean that all these tiny steps, leading up to that big reaching-toward-the-sky surrender of all my free time to get the first draft into a second and third and finally presentable final draft, would be done, and when those tiny steps are done, then I get to go head first out there and see if I got what it takes. I'm so ready to try. I wish all the work was done.

Then again, the idea I've been working on has been in my head for four years, and the characters have been like friends that I've forcefully trapped within me and no matter how much they begged me to set them free I've kept telling them that I wasn't ready, that my language was too unpolished, that I wouldn't be able to build the world I wished for them with the tools that I had so far gathered.

And now, I'm happy that I decided to allow them to create the world for me. I mean, I know that's how it has to go - the characters take you by the hand for the first stretch of the road, and then, when you begin to glimpse something on the horizon, it's your turn to lead them and shape that mirage into something real, something that becomes like a home to you, something you can feel comfortable with and know inside and out so that no question about it could ever throw you. It is so much fun! And I love these characters so very much.

Because of this, I think that the 150 000 words that I have left to write will actually be easy to get down on the pages. A little whistle while I work and a good, structured routine and I'm sure I will get there in the end.

I will admit, it surprises me how slow the process is when I'm dealing with original characters and setting, while when I write fanfiction it's as though the words and places and character traits simply bleed out of my fingers and onto the page. That the characters are clear to me aren't very surprising, naturally, but I barely have to think about where the story is headed either, and the story isn't told to me from the get-go: it's simply there, forming itself onto the page without me having that much to do with it.

Whereas with this original story that is all mine, it's almost as though I have to tell myself not to overthink it. It's so strange, because as I've been writing The Basics series for this blog, I've been talking about these things, about methods to help yourself NOT to overthink it when you're writing that first draft and yet I see how easy it is to trap yourself into revision at an early stage. You get worried that you're leaving dangling little ends untied and all that crap, when it honestly doesn't matter. You read through it later, and you can always incorporate a way to tie them up, or simply find that you had no use for the little window you left open for yourself, and then you will simply close it shut.

The white page isn't scary, it's simply waiting, and it's the most patient companion you could ever ask for. And I've realized it even more that it's all about committing to your relationship with the page. There are so many distractions, so many ways to cheat on it - the TV, the radio, the dishes, the trash, the laundry, the DVD shelf, the bookshelf, the magazine pile on the coffee table; the deliciousness of getting up from in front of the page and going to do something else is almost irresistable - but.

But don't ever give into it.

Schedule breaks. That's the trick. Then it isn't cheating, and it isn't giving in, and it won't drag you away for longer than you allow it. You're in control. I mean, we're all only humans, every writer must remember that, and a break can be necessary; but writing a thousand words an hour isn't too much to ask. I found that once I actually sat down and started writing and got into a good word rhythm, I had trouble stopping, instead. For me, it's the chapter breaks that are the hardest. It's as though I feel I should be done when I start a new chapter, I should be able to go and spend the rest of my day doing something more relaxing and a helluva lot less stressful. (Yeah, we all know that it is stressful to write a book, and your head gets clogged down with thoughts and conundrums and plot twists and where is it all headed.) And usually, a new chapter means a slight change in state of mind, which always drives me out of the chair for a break, no matter how I try. But then, I do something worth while with that time, I give myself half an hour of TV, or finishing off the dishes, but I keep it time restricted and when that time is up, I'm ready to sit my ass down again and start typing.

I'm sure we all have our own ways of dealing with the process, and I would seriously love to hear from anyone of you willing to share yours.

And if you didn't partake in the NaNoWriMo this year, I hope I will see you next November!

Love from Me.

National Novel Writing Month

2008-11-11T11:44:00.000-08:00

Yes, it seems it is that time of year, when writers by the thousands huddle in front of their computers, letting the bright light of their word processors act as a source of comfort in the dismal November darkness. (Or is that just me and being in Sweden, where the sun rises at seven and goes to bed again at four?)

This is my first NaNoWriMo, and I stumbled across it by accident - nay, I tell you, by luck - as the Month was advertised by 3-day Novel Contest. I'm a very excited participant in NaNoWriMo and, by God and my own will, I shall persevere and finish.

Did I mention my book is currently taking place in medieval times in France, hence the note in this post of dated English? Oh, whatever.

It's going well. I think. 15 000 words and counting. I can't say it's going terrific, because terrific would be to sit among that amazing group that have already hit 50 K and are moving steadily passed it. Wow. But I'm still happy to be writing constantly, thinking about writing constantly and wanting to write, not barely being able to wait until I'm able to write, every single day. It's wonderful!

It's an incredible boost to see the numbers of the wordcount rise for each time I visit the NaNoWriMo website.

For anyone out there who have yet to sign up for this amazing event, go do so immediately and I will see you at the finish line!

Best of Luck, Fellow Writer!

Gone Too Long

2008-10-22T14:15:00.001-07:00

Don't you just hate it when a pet-project gets left high and dry because another project takes up all your time? Well, I just moved into a new home - an apartment which had me at first glance - and all the fussing about with getting settled into it has made me completely neglect this space. Silly, really, this is where I should turn when I'm feeling as frustrated as I am now, and just hash it out.
Yes, I am extremely frustrated.
I haven't written anything for over a month. Okay, I'm exaggerating. I have written little morsels and a poem or two and I've had ideas and done some brainstorming on old ideas so that I can get those old ideas whipped into shape before I tackle the new ideas.
But.
It's still not generating actual written pages and it's so blooming frustrating.
I'm a lazy writer, to tell you the truth. I wish I wasn't. I wish I had a good, strict regime going, where I was in a groove of how to divide my free time up so that I could hone my craft, see friends, family, and relax in front of the TV or reading a nice book. But I don't have that power, as of yet, and so I feel I just roam. Well, seeing it on black and white makes me realize that I can't let myself roam any longer: it is time to take the page by its corners and wrestle it to the desktop... or something or other.
It's time to take myself by the ear and seat myself down in front of the computer.
It's daunting.
No matter how well I know that it is a fact that the white page will intimidate me, it still, sometimes (not every time) does; but it isn't the thought of filling it, which frightens me a little. No, it's the thought of what's to come after it. What's to come after it? What will come after I've written a story with characters I love and a place I've come to know and I'm proud and happy and then... I send it off to an editor with claws and fangs who will tear those characters apart and level the place to the ground? I don't think so.
I know I'm being really stupid. I know fear is stupid in this case, because everybody gets rejected. Rejection is part of the process, and one has to have tough hide and thick skin and blahblahblah and I don't want the ripping and tearing and bloodshed and tears. Oh, the tears!
It's a difficult, difficult thing to wish to write, but it's an even more difficult thing to wish to be published.
Ah.
Eureka.
There's the key.
They are two seperate processes.
Sitting down in front of the computer means I get to dive into a place I wish to know and come to love, and learn all about these strangers that inhabit it. It does not mean worrying about wether anybody else will find them interesting enough, it means simply to get them onto the page. It is my pleasure, my own, and the first draft is a treasure meant for only me. As such, it's precious. I shouldn't shun it, I shouldn't fear it, I should be ecstatic that it's there for my taking.
Hah!
Right.
So then.
I guess, here I go.
See you on the other side.

The Dying

2008-05-17T03:52:00.000-07:00

In the deepest cresses,

of your lavish body,

there is warmth and,

motherhood.

In the soft caresses,

you bestow your body,

there is love like

none I've known.

In the dents and boulders,

that make up your body,

there is life and,

only good.

But on trembling shoulders,

there's a weighing burden,

when you reap what

man has sown.

You are dying, mother,

your skin is landscape,

that is withering,

with decay.

With war and famine,

with hate and murder,

you grow weaker

every day.

Forgive us, mother,

we cannot see how,

you are poisened

at your core.

We cannot win,

this fight will end us,

but you shall burst to life

once more.

In the cooling winds,

you will mend your breaks,

your cracks, your

crevices.

In the pooling floods,

you will drink away,

the thirst of decades

waste.

In the shaded spots,

you will stretch yourself,

and find that

you're appeased.

For the budding life,

shall bring you hope,

despite all that

you've faced.

In the deepest cresses,

of your lavish body,

there is warmth and

motherhood.

What motherly love,

you had bestowed,

if man had

understood.

My Picture Challenge Response

2008-05-01T03:18:00.000-07:00

She said that it helped her believe in a future filled with promise, a future that would be the opposite of our reality, that there would be a time when desperation and despair had been obliterated and harmony was bound to encapsulate us all. She said that she had seen tall buildings - just like those depicted on the mural pieces she was so fond of collecting - and us, smiling.

It was small, this future, small enough to fit in my palm, but it was heavy and carried a weight to it that felt almost like how I imagined truth must feel, if you were ever enclined to carry it. It was a perfect sphere of silver, and it held promises of harmony within it. She said.

I looked at it and I saw those buildings burning; I saw us fleeing from yet another broken dream, and how it would leave us disillusioned and empty. There would be neither desperation nor despair, but harmony would come in the obliteration of hope, where we would feel nothing anymore because the processing of emotion had become too unbearable.

I told her none of this when she offered me her one possession, reaching it out to me with a hand stained with the blood of battle. She looked too encouraging, as though she relied too much on it to salvage what little was left of our brethren, for me to shatter the peace of her last few moments. Her breath was failing her.

I didn't cry.

Now, I carry our future like a burden near my heart, in the breast pocket of my shirt, as we walk through the djungles that have grown over the abandoned homes of what was once thriving communities. And the bodies of the dead hide beneath the vines, beneath the roots and thickets. I try not to trample them, but sometimes... Sometimes I wonder if, perhaps, they're everywhere, impossible to avoid.

There are five in our group left. Danya and Lethaniel were taken by the darkness fifty days ago. Margo, Gennie and Brohan died fighting the Impostors. We who are still standing will head for those tall buildings; that seems to have been our goal from the moment we formed a circle for the first time. Even if we didn't know it then. And when we reach them I will see whose predictions were correct, but I know that whether we dance for joy or slip into lethargy matters little at this point - what we all wish for is rest, and that we shall have, either way.

Our future seems happy to greet us: everyday the sphere glows brighter.

Not much further now.

Beautiful Irony

2008-04-28T04:39:00.000-07:00

I had the most sublime moment the other day, watching a scene take place right outside my kitchen window, serving as a brilliant example of how truly ironic nature can be.

The cushions of our lawn-chairs have been partially covered by a cut-up piece of blanket, because the cats shed and their furr cover the niceness of our cushions otherwise, and upon one of the blankets was a little sparrow, jumping about, collecting furr in her beak to use as lining for her nest. I found this absolutely marvellous. Her chicks will hatch into a nest lined with the furr of one of the more serious predators they're bound to encounter, once they're airborne. If that isn't irony at its most beautiful, then I don't know what is.

:)

x's
Annie.

The Basics - Part Three: DIALOGUE

2008-04-03T07:28:00.000-07:00

The Difficulties

I have read numerous scripts on urbis.com, and they all have - in my humble opinion - the same problem, which is that they hold the characters' breath instead of allowing them to breathe life into the story: dialogue heavy with description and character revalations, and/or dialogue which is flat and uninteresting and does nothing for the plot whatsoever. Both of these need to be slaughtered so that your baby might live. Live, I tell you, live!

Dialogue is difficult. Repeat after me - dialogue is difficult. But it doesn't have to be impossible. Where do you draw inspiration for the dialogue of your characters? Well, obviously from real life, but ask yourself where your characters came from? If they came from real life already, and they're shaped in your head with a visual of what they look like, how they move, what their history is and where they wish to go - then shouldn't all this help in deciding what kind of voice to give them? And if you've striven, as we all do, to give each and every character in your story their very own set of quirks and tics - humanistics,as I like to call them - then shouldn't each voice become individual on their own?

I have written screenplays for going on five years now, and I've been writing stories my whole life (well, the twenty-five years that I have lived of it) and I feel that it isn't until now that all these things are finally beginning to come together for me. I'm beginning to recognize the little things that make up the bigger things, so I totally understand the difficult part of the dialogue-character-plot=story equation, but if you get yourself thinking of the little things, the bigger things are sure to fall into place.

The Little Things

Let me begin by giving you an example of heavy exposition/overuse of dialogue.

"Hi."
"Hello."
"Where've you been?"
"At the market."
"At the market?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Why did you go to the market at eight-thirty in the morning?"
"We were out of bread."
"Did you get some?"
"Yes."
"That's good. What kind of bread did you get?"
"That nutty one you like."
"Thanks. Is that what's in the basket?"
"Yeah."
"Should I carve it, then?"
"Why not."
"Would you like a slice?"
"Sure."
"With butter?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Okay. I'll bring it over in a second."

This is flat, uninteresting dialogue about trifles. It has no push and pull, no conflict whatsoever. Now, if you're writing a drama, sometimes it's necessary to have an everyday type of conversation, but let's see if we can't make this one a bit more interesting:

"Where've you been?"
"The market."
"The market? You left without telling me, you know I hate waking up alone."
"Sorry, babe. Wanted to get some bread for breakfast. Got that nutty kind you like."
"You're the nutter. Give it here, then. I'll carve it. Go have a seat."
"Heavy on the butter now."
"You'll clog your arteries with that stuff."
"Yes, dear."

And how would it look if we add some description to it?

Daniel climbed the steps taking him to the back door, halting in the doorway at the sight of Imogen, whose hair was tangled from sleep and who was wearing nothing but his oversized shirt. He was about to smile at her when he registered the look on her face - it wasn't happy.
"Where've you been?" she asked, rather snappishly.
"The market," he replied lightly, holding up the basket in his hand as some sort of proof.
The pout on her mouth reduced itself to about a quarter of its previous protrution, but since it didn't go away completely, he quickly deduced that he wasn't out of the woods yet.
"The market?" she repeated, and he thought he could detect a huff somewhere behind the two words, as though she found the idea perpostreous and was determined to wrench the truth out of him. "You left without telling me," she then added, the pout threatening to return to its former proclamation of her malcontent, but something not far from insecurity seemed to hold it back. "You know I hate waking up alone," she finished, and he did pick up on the small accusation in that sentence, making him approach her with as innocent an expression as he had ever worn.
"Sorry, babe," he apologized, wanting to keep the breezy tone so that he could settle the mood threatening to take over the peace of their first morning together. "Wanted to get some bread for breakfast. Got that nutty kind you like," he tried, seeing the clouds in her gaze scatter as he placed the basket on the counter.
"You're the nutter," she murmured, though he could tell she was appeased. "Give it here, then," she added as he proceeded with bringing the bread out of its current residence, not waiting for him to hand it over as she simply took it out of his grasp, waving at him as she said: "I'll carve it. Go have a seat."
He smirked, not taking his eyes off her as he rounded the kitchen table and sat down on one of the uncomfortable chairs she insisted were keep-sakes she couldn't do away with, leaning back as he watched her bring out a bread knife and begin to slice the bread, evenly, thickly.
Once she was done she seemed apt to serve them as they were and he put his hands behind his head as he instructed:
"Heavy on the butter, now."
She sighed. He loved it when she cared.
"You'll clog your arteries with that stuff," she grumbled and his smirk was re-born.
"Yes, dear," he replied, receiving a not-so-amused glare from her as she headed to the coolling box to bring out the treasured flavor-booster.
It cost ten broonies for just one ounce of the stuff, but it was worth it; and, at least, he could afford it.

Bit more character? Bit more interesting to follow the converstion when something else is happening besides them chatting, standing face to face on the floor, or seated at a table? Yes?

If this was a scene in a script, could we do it without any dialogue at all?

INT. KITCHEN - DAY

It's small, lived-in and with a comfortable disarray of kitchen-y things on the counters.

IMOGEN (20) wanders back and forth between counter and kitchen table. She is in obvious dismay.

A car door slams.

She stops, facing the kitchen door.

DANIEL (22) is seen through the door's net. He enters the room and halts once he notices Imogen.

Her dismay is now palpable. He sees it.

She is about to say something. He stops her by moving up to her, pulling a parcel out of the basket. He hands it to her with a meaningful - almost reproachful - look, before leaving the room.

She hesitates, but unwraps it.

It's a piece of bread.

She's somewhat regretful for the accusing stare she delivered. She doesn't go after him. Instead she heads to the counter, putting the bread down. She gets out a very large carving knife and begins to slice the bread.

END SCENE.

It's interesting to do a scene with no dialogue, I think. To push yourself into thinking more of body language, of how the actor or actress can deliver the mood, tell the reader with actions rather than words what is going on in his or her mind. It's such powerful stuff and it can be wonderful to watch.

And seriously, who ever talks like the people in Dialogue 1? Nobody is that stiff. Well, unless it's part of their character, but then that's the voice of that one character, not every character of the whole piece.

Listen to your own instincts, and allow yourself some room to experiment. If/when reading the voices out loud, try mimicking how you want them to sound. Does it sound believable? Draw inspiration from movies and actors/actresses you admire. When writing a script, make the dialogue belong to the character and keep in mind that the actor/actresse's job is to bring the dialogue to life - and they will.

What you should do is ask yourself:

Would I say - "How are you doing today?" or "How's it going?"

Would it go - "Wow, that is amazing news, Clive, I am so excited for you!" or "Wow, that's amazing news, Clive! I'm so excited for you!"

If you write a line of dialogue, or a thought, always remind yourself of who the character is, his wants, quirks, personal traits, and ask yourself if the words you've written fit with the character. This ties back strongly with both STORY and CHARACTER. Consider:

Sam had never been the most popular boy on the block, and he had never tried to be. He wore his baseball cap, not like the cool kids who would turn it around and sometimes inside out, but properly, so that it shaded his eyes. He never stood on the seat of his bike, trying to impress Marion or Lou-Anne or Samantha, hoping they might be glancing out a window at the moment he passed it, but sat neatly, holding on with both hands, gazing forward. He walked to school without taking the route past the Smoking Shack, where the older boys would sell the younger boys cigarettes which the older boys had knicked from their parents. Sam had no interest in cigarettes because he figured if the smell of them from afar made him nauseous, then he didn't want to know what sticking one in his mouth would make him feel.
On the first of September, 1965, Sam was about to turn fourteen. In three days he was going to have a birthday party to celebrate the event and for some reason, the only thing going through his mind was the thought of bright pink and yellow balloons. He felt a compulsion, as though he had to have bright pink and yellow baloons at the party or he knew it would be a spectacular failure.

Now, the thought of balloons might be enough to make you - the reader - want to know exactly why this compulsion occurred and why it occurred at this particular point in time. There are a hundred, if not a thousand, if not a million, ways to twist and spin the thought of balloons into meaning something else, or turning out to launching him into a desperate hunt for balloons, or the colors being significant, or the shape, or that float-y thing they do. But what if we spiced that last paragraph up a bit?

On the first of September, 1965, Sam was about to turn fourteen. In three days he was going to have a birthday party to celebrate the event and for some reason the only thing going through his mind was the thought of Sinful Cin, the arts teacher.
He thought the nickname a cruel joke, as she couldn't help the way her graceful movements seemed to speak of sex to those watching. (At least when those watching were thirteen year old boys.) It had been a group of them, one grade above him, who had thought of the name, and it had stuck like jam on toast. She seemed oblivious to it and to the sniggers that sometimes errupted when someone whispered it under their breath in class, or perhaps she was merely pretending.
Now Sam felt a deep need, more like a compulsion, to invite her to his birthday party. He felt as though she had to come, or it would simply be a spectacular failure.

Is the intrigue heightened? I would, personally, say it is, simply because physical attraction teamed with adolescent longing, especially the slumbering kind that is now threatening to bite its way out and roar its existence to the world, is always a compelling read.

The thought, then - does it seem to fit the character? I establish Sam as a very controlled and precoucious child who always does the right thing and sees no interest in partaking in the wild games of his peers. So, what if now, his desire for his arts teacher drives him to go against his own character and do things he never thought he could possibly do? There are many ways to play around with this, but as I stated in Chapter Two - CHARACTER, you want the character taken on a journey of self discovery. This means pitting him against what he thought he knew about himself, yes? Of course, you could do this with the balloon scenario as well, depending on where you choose to take it. (See Chapter One - STORY.)

End Note

The very basics of dialogue should be, then, to always consider the character that is speaking, remembering that it isn't your voice that is meant to be heard, but the voice of that particular person whom you're depicting in your story. Does he speak gruffly, does he swear, or is it a soft-spoken Southern bell with a sing-song-y tone in her voice? It all matters in adding to the character and to the multi-color of the story you're writing.

It is, as with most things, a matter of taste, too: how you choose to build your story and the characters within it.

In "Crime and Punishment", Dostoevsky writes page after page after page of descriptive dialogue, and it works. Why? Because the character is a drunkard who is rambling on and on as drunkards usually do, and because we are being told an interesting story by this character. So, the dialogue fits the character and the intrigue is kept piqued as we listen to what the character has to tell us.

The leading character of "Crime and Punishment" is Raskolnikov, a young student who, for the first 100 pages or so is contemplating doing something so horrid he doesn't even dare mention what it is. This contemplation is almost erratic in its urgency, and in Raskolnikov's rejection of the mere idea of doing something so awful, but these thoughts and how they are written are compelling because we don't know exactly what it is he's planning to do (though we have a distinct notion of what it must be, due to the title of the work itself), and also because his thoughts help establish his character and they fit seamlessly with the mood Dostoevsky is setting.

This ties in with the foreshadowing and pacing I mentioned in Chapter One - STORY. By establishing Raskolnikov's character and the stakes for this character - he is likable, poor, not prone to violence, and wishing to do this horrible deed for the sake of, not himself, but those he loves - Dostoevsky creates a main character that grabs hold of the reader. We feel for Raskolnikov, we see his character clearly, his quirks, his conundrums, we worry what might happen if he goes through with it, if he's caught - again, the title rather gives it away - but we're still there, because we don't know HOW. Foreshadowing, people. The promise of good stuff up ahead. (And, in some cases, perhaps not so good.)

So don't go ruining the read with dialogue that doesn't tell the reader anything, but only feels like filler, like meaningless banter or chatter until we get to the kernel of the conflict. When your characters speak, they should speak because that dialogue is pivotal for the plot evolvement or for showing the depth of the character or - preferably - both.

Clichés can work, but make them work for you. The villain who - inexplicably - decides to relay the entire scheme to the trapped hero just before the end of the film. The chase and race for love at the end of every single romcom. The side-kick joker with all the snappy one-liners. Little things that might be expected by a wide audience, but which you can have fun with and make original. Not an easy task, but an oh, so fun one.

Summary

¤ Dialogue is difficult, but if you know your characters, you shouldn't have too much trouble hearing their voices in your head. (Careful, though, you might also be going insane. Whole other chapter.)

¤ Don't rely - at least not heavily - on dialogue to do the telling for you. Don't make characters ramble on about something which has happened in the past and which will soon play a big part of your plot, i.e. :

"Isn't that the old creepy mansion where a bunch of kids were trapped and killed off one by one?"

It all depends on the context, but I would say that in pretty much 98% of the cases, this line of dialogue would be better as a show - and by that, I mean a line of action in a script, or a paragraph or prologue of nice description in a story.

There was once a town in the middle of nowhere and on a softly bulging hill just outside the town stood a large house, practically a mansion, with high French windows, wide balconies and lovely, tiled roofs. It was the awe of everyone in the town when it was first built, but as the years passed, the shadow falling from its high towers and flying banners seemed to stretch further and further until it fell upon the town itself.

And so forth.

¤ Listen to your own instincts and allow yourself some room to experiment. If/when reading the voices out loud, try mimicking how you want them to sound. Draw inspiration from movies and actors/actresses you admire. When writing a script, make the dialogue belong to a character and keep in mind that the actor/actress's job is to bring the dialogue to life - and they will.

¤ The very basics of dialogue are - don't overuse, better to show than tell, and allow your characters to have their own voice.

And remember, it all comes down to personal taste, how you wish to structure your story, and how you want it told.

Reading Material

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky (character driven and well-structured)
Harry Potter Series by JK Rowling (every character has their own voice)
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte (nothing is left to chance and is sewn together beautifully)
When Harry met Sally script by Nora Ephron (incredible dialogue)
Breakfast at Tiffany's script by George Axelrod (amazing characters and dialogue)
Anything by William Shakespeare (well, obviously)

Viewing Material (fantastic characters and wonderful dialogue):

Misery
American Psycho
All About Eve
Original Sin
Ask the Dust
The Lives of Others
The Sea Inside
Boys and Girls
The Exorcism of Emily Rose
Angel Eyes

Why I Write

2008-03-19T16:00:00.000-07:00

There is a moment when you’re writing, when there’s this shift, as though the words have been traveling to this particular point all along and have known it, only you, the writer - who is supposed to be the Creator of their universe, their unrivalled God, you, the omnipotent - didn’t see this shift coming; and the surprise of many, most or all of those pieces that have been spread out on the pages suddenly clicking themselves into place without it seemingly having anything to do with you, sends a rush of triumph through you that is incompatible with anything else. You know what I’m talking about.

The truth is, the writer and the language he or she possesses have a BDSM relationship, where the writer would like to think him or herself as the dominant partner (a God in control of the world), but must admit to being a willing slave to their craft, which governs them with an iron grip and is at times irrational, unpredictable and haughty in its demands and expectations. It will allow for inspiration to enter at times that are more than inconvenient, and sometimes keep it at bay when it’s needed the most. It will twist and turn the writer’s mind until their head is spinning and it feels as though nothing good will come of it. It will be a compulsion and it will not let up, but this is how a writer earns his or her right to call themselves a writer: all the slaving under the whip of a master will have its rewards.

The language spilled onto a page that is printed black on white for all to see, that heavy scent of fresh ink that seems to paste itself inside your nostrils and along the inside of your throat, that is something of beauty. So what if you struggled with every other paragraph and thought you would never finish, so what if that one plot hole proved nearly impossible to fill without causing at least a speed bump, so what if you felt you spent most of your time staring at your computer, praying for it to burn a fuse and go black before your very eyes - frustration is part of the process, indecisiveness and doubt and anger are as well, but the process wouldn’t be the process without that emotional rollercoaster. What can I say, I love it.

Creativity is like a force that wants to break through your skin, urging you to do something about it or it will have to damage you in order to tear free. Splash it on a canvas; paint it on a wall; ink it onto skin; put it on a page or catch it in a photograph - there are a million ways for it to express itself, and with me it seems to have chosen language.

What fascinates me is its thirst for evolution. There is a need to learn and grow that drives me to find new ways to express myself, new ways for inspiration to approach me, having me read articles, blogs and books about topics that catch my eye, and that usually leaves me with a certain something that is bound to be useful at some point, even though I don’t know when it will be pulled out and brought onto the page.

But this ties back with why I am the willing slave: the unpredictability keeps it interesting, keeps me curious what is coming next, who will I meet, where will it take me, what is my next adventure? It’s that absolute high of feeling contented with a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter, a novel, a scene, a screenplay, a poem, a character, a villain, the love, the hate, the struggle, the resolution.

There is no simple or concise answer to the question, but I would sum it up as this:

I write because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Writing is such a huge part of me that if I lost it, I would literally loose myself. Writing is what I want to be doing for the rest of my life, so if this incredible gift was somehow taken away, I would be such a miserable creature that I would repel everyone and only attract misery and finally I would shrivel and wither away with wont of anything productive to do. Oh, yes - wither.

Writing is what makes everything else worth it.

And that moment of pure, undiluted magic, when everything suddenly shifts and by some grace clicks itself into place; when those threads that have been dangling throughout a work-in-progress simply tie themselves together in a flawless knot; that rush of triumph when I feel I am part of something that is me, and yet removed from my person, is like a little everyday miracle. It surprises me every time. And I can’t imagine myself without it. I wouldn’t ever want to.

Inspiration for the Wonting

2008-03-19T08:39:00.000-07:00

I recently acquired a splendid music machine - having been without something portable for a longer time than I'd like to admit - and am using it to my ears' delight.

It's amazing to me how much clearer lyrics can actually get just by letting the words stream directly into your head. I mean those lyrics that have one word that makes no sense to you at all, and you're thinking "Why did they choose to put it like that, when this would have sounded so much better?" And now, with the direct-feed, it suddenly makes sense, and it wasn't "they" who put it like that, it was actually me all along, getting it wrong. Tsk, tsk.

I have to say, one thing that irks me a little in lyrics is this:

It don't mean nothing

It makes me want to say that no, it DOESN'T mean ANYthing.

Yes, it sounds anal to correct an innocent pop-lyric or the like (which usually use this type of annoyance), but to me, if it doesn't fit and you have to use sloppy grammar to get it in there, then don't use it at all - find something else that works better.

There is nothing that I love more than a good lyric, an inventive way of using words and rhymes (or foregoing the rhymes for telling a story, or using them sporadically), and there is nothing more inspiring than a lyric and melody that fuse together to paint you a clear picture that fit perfectly with the story or the characters you're trying to tell and portray.

Here's a tip for anyone seeking inspiration:

Choose a beloved song or an album that you haven't listened to in a while (just so that the music isn't fresh in your mind), close your eyes and let the lyrics surprise you. Let them tell you a story, and when they're done - write it down.

You can write it as a music video, with glimpses of the story and characters that come together in the end to make up a whole, though I wouldn't go down the "songfic" road, as this might stiffen the flow of the piece. When I say "write it as a music video", I mean just that: write it in script form, with parts of the lyrics present to show the way of how the visual adheres to the words being sung.

If a music video isn't interesting, then you can write an actual short story and see where it takes you. It's freeing, because the inspiration comes from something that will not go away, and if it helps you begin a story, if or when you feel stuck you can go back to the source of origin and listen to it again.

x's
Annie.

All About Jane

2008-02-02T01:54:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite writers is Jane Espenson, whose work I got to know and love while she was writing for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She is currently one of the writers for Battlestar Galactica and has written episodes for numerous shows such as Angel, Firefly, Gilmore Girls, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and Ellen. She has an amazing blog for writers aspiring to work in television where she offers not only advice, but a sunny, you-can-do-anything attitude. I'm adding it to the Other Bloggers List and I would recommend you go check her out if you're one of the multitude scrambling for one of those prime time slots.

The Basics - Part Two: CHARACTER

2008-01-27T14:20:00.001-08:00

The Driving Force

So, you feel that you have a sure-to-dazzle idea in your head, it's grand and vivid and full of things you can't wait to share with others. Here's a very important fact: it doesn't matter if it takes place on a space shuttle, in a submarine, on top of a mountain in a haunted cottage or in a meadow of talking flowers (it will matter how you introduce your world and set the scenes, but more of that in Chapter Four: WORLD). If the scenery doesn't matter, then what does? At this early stage of your plotting the plot, I would say that the focus should fall on the people; the characters; the villains; the humpty dumpties; the maniacs and jesters; the good-in-need-of-some-bad and the bad-in-search-of-some-good. In short - build interesting, gripping personas to populate your story, and you will have the audience hook, line and sinker.

Safe to say: most worlds are built around the character, and perhaps the STORY and the CHARACTER are really the same chapter, because usually the concept of your story will be born from the idea of a character. Let's then say that you have done a list or an overview of some sort - as discussed in the chapter prior - of your storyline, showing the plot and where you would like it to take you; naturally, you already have your main characters already in mind, and so should, as they are the driving force behind the storyline.

Nothing has taught me more about character than writing screenplays. There's such a subtlety that can be used when revealing character and all of it doesn't have to be cramped into the first page or first chapter. As with anything when you are writing - you shouldn't rush. There's no hurry, plant little revealing moments along the way, and your readers will enjoy getting to know your characters just as much as you do when you write them.

To the Point

When presenting the characters, I try to remember these points:

¤ Action Speaks Louder Than Words - let your character be active. A screenplay mantra is "Show, don't tell", this can easily be applied to your novel writing as well. Keep it in the back of your head: instead of writing a line of descriptive dialogue that is superflous for the scene, or situation, simply cut to the action that it preludes.

Example:

"Where are we going?" asked Peter, taking a huge bite of the hamburger he had just extracted from the bag, the look on his face not being far from delight as he chewed the food.
"Over there, I guess," Susan replied non-committaly, strolling past him to follow in the footsteps of her brother.

Consider:

Peter dug around in the bag for the hamburger he knew was hidden somewhere behind the french fries, extracting it with a look on his face which was not far from delight and biting into it just as Susan strolled past him, heading across the parking lot in the footsteps of her brother. Her back was quickly fading among the shadows of the woods beyond it and he wanted to call out to her before she disappeared from view completely, however, it proved mightily difficult with his mouth full of burger.
He stood indecisive for another moment, but the scuttling of a newspaper being ushered across the asphalt by an impatient wind got his feet quickly moving after his friend.

By removing the dialogue, which was simply preluding the action that was about to show, and not tell us what they were going to do anyway, it still conveys what I wanted it to tell the reader: that Peter doesn't know where they're going, that he's a follower, while Susan is rather careless with him and doesn't really care whether he comes or not.

¤ Character Arc - decide who your character is at the beginning of the story and then make sure that he or she has an arc that is believable and progressive.

Example: If your main character is meek and cowardly, he should, of course, end up a brave and brazen hero; if your main character is strong and independent, he may need to be reminded that it's okay to ask for help once in a while, and that co-dependency can be necessary; if your character is happy-go-lucky he may need to face reality and the struggles that most of us have to go through; and if your character is beaten and down on his knees he will need to teach himself about strength and how to get back on his feet and carry on.

Naturally, unless it's a tragedy you're writing - well, even then - the main character is on a journey of self-discovery and needs to evolve during the story in a positive way; he needs to find those sides to himself that so far has been subconscious, but that are necessary for his personal growth. Bravery, humility, strength - all of these are powerful traits that, once they're beginning to be apparent in a character that has been lacking them, will make the reader feel that the evolution has come full circle.

¤ Appearance and Accessories - hair color; eye color; height; weight; what is his or hers favorite color; does he or she wear jeans or trousers; does she enjoy skirts, blouses, sweaters; are they comfortable in their own skin or do they want to loose or maybe gain weight; does he or she bite their nails; does she wear make-up, does he?

By accessories I mean, does she have a ring that never comes off her finger, a favorite bracelet, does she always carry pen and paper, a day planner, would she not survive without her cell-phone? Does he have tattoos, piercings, jewellery? Does she? We all have everyday items that we can't imagine leaving the house without, let your characters everyday items be tattle-tales of who your characters are. Let them reflect if they're miserable, pretending to be happy; frightened, pretending to be brave; lonely, pretending not to care.

And what they wear and what colors they choose naturally goes into what type of person they are: whimsical and she may not be wearing a tight gray office suit with a pink tie; broken and depressed and she will probably not be adorning pastelles. It doesn't have to be too on-the-nose. You could have a lawyer in a strict gray suit who is whimsical in her off-hours and likes to wear can-can skirts and go dance polka, but then, perhaps, she wouldn't wear just any tie, but one with polka dots. Or even something subtler, like a certain belt, or a big, sparkly ring on one finger, the possibilities are endless.

To reveal - by describing your characters outards - what is moving in your characters innards is something to strive for.

The Most Important

Naturally your characters will come to life on the page. I very seldom sit down and list personal traits for my characters - though sometimes it absolutely helps, especially when I'm writing a script - but these points are good to remember when you go back and edit.

The most important thing - in my opinion - for any character to have is what I mentioned above: a strong, believable arc that moves steadily from its starting dot to its finishing dot, and which is unshakable in its foundations. You don't want anyone to go "But why is she running out of the cave when she got that sword from the prince and she's been talking about wanting to be a dragon slayer?" (Not that I personally would have her slay the dragon, because I believe them to be magnificent mythical creatures that mean no real harm; but then I would have her face the dragon and actively choose to put down her sword, not do a complete turn of character and run screaming for her life.)

The "It's Alive" Factor

Let your instincts guide you, play around, empathize with your characters, see yourself in their situation, act it out in your head or read your words outloud and try to get a sense of the realism of it. It doesn't matter if it's a mob story and you've never met a mafia boss in your life or if it's a fantasy adventure where half of the creatures populating your world is something that only stems from your imagination - the characters have to be alive.

An alive character isn't dead (duh), but has little tics, might say the wrong thing at the wrong time, might feel awkward, might hesitate when they shouldn't, will absolutely make mistakes, though they will usually be able to fix them or at least learn from them, might be obnoxious and not know it, might be smarter than they realize, shyness, boldness, humor, warmth, infuse your characters with as much real life that you can get, and if you still feel unsure of what I mean - look around, study your family, your friends, your pets, yourself. We all have characteristics that you can pick and choose from.

Good luck!

Summary

¤ Interesting, Gripping, Alive Personas will help draw the reader in and keep them from putting the book down. Ever.

¤ There's No Rush, plant your revelations of character selectively throughout the story, not throughout the first chapter. Remember, the evolution of the character is also interwoven with the evolution of the storyline itself. You wouldn't begin the story with the last chapter, would you?

¤ Action Speaks Louder Than Words - let your character be active and cut unnecessary dialogue. More of this in Chapter Three: DIALOGUE.

¤ The Character Arc/The Most Important - the main character is on a journey throughout the story and needs to evolve in a positive way; she/he needs to find those sides to her/himself that have been subconscious, but which are necessary for her/his personal growth. Bravery, humility, strength - all of these are powerful traits that, once they're beginning to be apparent in a character that's been lacking them, the reader will feel that the evolutionary process has come full circle.

¤ The "It's Alive" Factor - fashion your character, be they fantasy or mobsters, after people with flaws, no matter what the flaw is, everyone has them, and your reader will be able to identify and laugh, cry or wish to kill your character for them. Oh, yeah - trust me on that.

Recommended Literature:

The Harry Potter Series by JK Rowling (every character is memorable and has traits that are completely personal)

The Lord of the Rings by JR Tolkien (the same as with Harry Potter - a world is painted around the characters to bring them into focus)

American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis (Patrick Bateman is delivered in a flawlessly ruptured manner that fits perfectly with Bateman's ruptured psyche)

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk (to teach your character that for every action - a reaction. Palahniuk does this effortlessly by creating a modern Jekyll and Hyde.)

For personal traits I would also recommend you opt for the visual and watch a few of your favorite movies. Let's take a classic, which most of us should know, as a simple example on how to observe character:

Dirty Dancing - Who is Baby? Does she start out as a shy, silent girl-in-the-corner type of character? No, she doesn't. She isn't as self-confident as her sister Lisa, but she's driven, she wants to help people, join the Peace Corps, and so, in a sense, she already possesses bravery in certain areas of life. Where she needs to evolve is on the love front, where she hasn't had much experience. And what is the theme of the movie? Yes, yes, dance - and the other? When Johnny says that famous quote "Nobody puts Baby in a corner" - it's almost as though he's stating the essence of her character right then and there.

Shock

2008-01-24T00:45:00.000-08:00

I am sure I am not the only one in complete shock over the death of Heath Ledger. I've been talking about him a lot lately, with family and friends, in anticipation of The Dark Knight, and it feels absolutely surreal that he's gone. It's quite strange to me how you can mourn someone you've never actually met. He will be missed.

The Basics - Part One: STORY

2008-01-18T03:28:00.000-08:00

Let me begin by stating the obvious: the thoughts on writing, which I am about to put down, have been put down by writers before me, many times over. I have come to discover what works for me and what doesn't and I now wish to put that down, in case it may be of service to some forlorn soul out there in desperate need of a base to build on.

Thus - here I lay the first brick.

The Idea that Inspires

So, you have your white page, you have your writing tool of choice (I pray you didn't go down the dark road and opted for the blood) and you have the good head on your shoulders, which is bursting with ideas and eagerness to share those ideas with the world. Brilliant!

The first step is, quite naturally, to determine which idea you wish to run with. This is, though so natural, an extremely important step since it will determine the steps that are to follow; as they will bring you into a world that you should want to walk or stroll or dash through, it's paramount that you allow yourself the time to be tentative at first, perhaps even feel as though you're about to stumble once or twice or many, many times. Getting to know your world is never easy, and you must be very patient with how it chooses to admit you.

You have snippets of this world in your head: little bright flashes that has revealed themselves to you in all their glory, but that is it. Those snippets need to be placed before you, and the enormous, gaping, empty holes between them need to be filled with other snippets to go with the snippets that are so extremely clear to you already. Daunting, nay?

You stare and you stare at your white page and soon you feel as though you want to rip it to pieces and toss all its mockery into the trashbin and be done with it. Why don't you? Because you can see it. You can see how - if you just sit and stare for a while longer - your world will fill that space, and it will be grand.

It's different for everybody, of course, because we're all so different. For some, all they need to do is place the pen to the paper and it's as though their wrist knows all the moves on its own and they needn't do anything but go along for the ride. For some, the process is slow: one paragraph at a time. And for then some, it's a combination.

The Comfort Zone

What you need to do is find your comfort zone when trying to determine the basics of your storyline. Here's my way of doing it:

For years I wrote without using any sort of real technique when plotting what was supposed to happen in my books; I always had a sense of where I wanted it to be heading, but I never felt as though whether I actually thought the events through or not would have any real impact on my writing; I thought it might even stump me .

I realize that my situation was different from the avarage author's as I - when I began to write longer pieces, two-hundred pages and more - was a fanfiction writer, and posted my stories chapter by chapter; this meant that I had no real control over the storyline from moment to moment, as the previous moment had already been read by people now waiting for the following moment. Because of this I pretty much let the story and the characters take me where they willed and allowed them to end up wherever seemed to fit best with what had come before. The end product - the novel itself - had been edited about three or four times a chapter, but the editing had taken place chapter by chapter and thus had no real impact on the main storyline or the little subplots and foreshadowings that could have been done much more neatly. (Or so I know, in hindsight.)

I will tell you my way of thinking now, as opposed to then, and if you find that you feel the same way as I used to, or can recognize yourself in the way I think now, then you can always use this as a foundation to build your own techniques on:

Feeling I have a good idea, I like to make notecards for every chapter, with room for extra notes as additions are inevitable, as well as changes, once I actually begin to write. The notes are also invaluable to me when jotting down foreshadowing of upcoming events. I will know how long I have been planting subtle hints of an occurrance, and I can choose how long I wish to drag it out in the storyline before the occurrance occurs. Example:

Chapter Thirty-Two: Softly They Tread

Notes: Imogen sees a flicker. Elaborate.

Imogen and Daniel flee the tower, retracing their steps to the edge of the woods. They argue about whether to venture into the woods again, considering what happened last time, or whether they should take the longer, and unknown, route around the woods and across the rocky plains. Finally a light being seen in the highest window of the tower convinces them they should go through the woods, as there are more places to hide. They walk in silence, Daniel not wanting to discuss what happened to him in the Shadows and Imogen feeling too worried about him to really want to know what he's thinking. Suddenly Imogen screams and when Daniel turns around, she's no longer behind him.

What I do in this chapter summary is to mention a little of what's come before, giving me a sense of where in the story I am; I add a few hints as to the mood of the characters, which is a great thing to do, because when reading through the overview you can see if there are any places where the characters feel as though their behavior might be erratic, uncharacteristic or odd. If Imogen had been clinging to Daniel, refusing to let go of him now that they had been reunited after his escape from the Shadows, it would be strange if she's stand-offish towards him in this chapter, for example. More of that in Part Two: CHARACTER.

The Balance

What you want in your story is balance. You want the pacing to be right, meaning you don't want to write two-hundred pages of foreshadowing - telling the reader that something oh-so-huge-and-am-a-zing is about to happen - to move too swiftly through the climax of the story, making the reader wonder what happened to that Hit Over the Head feeling they were expecting.

How do you achieve a nice pace?

It is, as any writing, extremely individual, what's a great pace for me might be too slow for you, and vice versa, but what you should think about is to reveal things at steady intervals and with foreshadowing of the situation that is looming up ahead being firmly planted beforehand; the situation can be a new main character stumbling onto the scene, a sudden rescue being staged, unexpected help from a previously unknown source, all of these being incidents that - without at least some foreshadowing - will feel out of place and too much of a coincidence for the reader to believe in it, leaving them with a sense of having been brought out of the world you've drawn up around them because their belief in it has been swayed.

Foreshadowing is a tool to build anticipation and suspense in the readers mind as they begin to understand that something is coming that will have an impact on the characters and storyline. It's important to use this tool to keep the reader interested in the story, remembering that baiting the reader with every new paragraph is the goal of your storytelling. Strive for them being unable to put your book down, and you will achieve it. Of course, as with most of everything in writing, you should apply it in moderation.

If every chapter of my book is 5 pages long, I would wish the resolution of the flicker to occur somewhere around the 20th chapter, which would bring us 100 pages into a 300 page story. The resolution of the flicker would be the bridge that would take us from Act One and into Act Two, Imogen and Daniel escaping the tower and their captor serving as the end of Act One. I would place a few short mentions of the flicker´as foreshadowing, two or three times in those 100 pages leading up to the resolution - more times than that and it will feel like overkill. If Imogen sees flickering lights every two pages the reader might begin to wonder if it's leading up to her having a complete nervous breakdown or at least turning out to be mildly insane.

The topic of moderation ties in with the topic of pace: don't rush it, but reveal little clues along the way. You don't have to worry about mentioning something briefly in chapter two and picking it up again in chapter fifteen, your reader will remember, and feel all the more clever for it. Of course, if your mention is too brief it will get confusing, and this ties in with the foreshadowing. See how neatly it all works?

Here is how I would write a brief mention of the flicker:

Imogen paused, her eyes focused on the hanging branches to the left of the path where she, for a second, could have sworn that she saw the flicker of a light, too exhausted to burn any brighter. It was gone in an instant, and perhaps it had all been in her head - the woods seemed to play that sort of trick on her - but she concluded that she shouldn't fool herself into believing they were safe, even if the trees stood motionless and dumb around them.

This is one paragraph that deals with the flicker, that sets a mood around the flicker and lets the reader know if they should be expecting it to be friendly or possibly dangerous.

End Note:

What is important to remember when writing anything is not to get stuck on the first line of your story. Not to let that white page taunt you with its bright void.

50 percent of writing is staring into space, 10 percent is getting the thoughts you harvest after the space-staring onto the page and 40 percent is revising it until it's so whipped into shaped that you may hardly recognize it anymore.

Don't be afraid of that first sentence, don't let it stop you if you feel it's not up to par - write on. Write pages after that first sentence, and don't stop until you're done. Don't start revising until all of the harvest is splayed in all its glory before you, and once it is - hack the hell away at it. Toss half of it out, change the other half completely around, have fun, play!

The revisions part can be a liberating process because this is when you get to take complete control over your creation. Your characters can no longer push to get out, they're not running the show, they're out there, exposed, in their little contained world, and you are their Creator - they had better bow to your will or face the death sentence. Sound manic? It can be. But you have to be tough if you're going to have the stomach to kill your babies, and you have to be tough with yourself when deciding what function each and every paragraph serves.

One of the mightiest books I've ever read is "The Crimson Petal and the White", which is over seven-hundred pages long and feels like two-hundred. Every single paragraph is there for a reason, nothing seems redundant, and it's absolute poetry from start to finish. Amazing piece of fiction.

My final advice when concluding this first chapter on The Basics is this: read.

Read books. Read whatever medium it is you wish to write and learn from the true masters. Think about their way of structuring their story, their way of telling it, and though you shouldn't strive to copy them, you should strive for the ability to walk in their footsteps.

Summary

¤ Step one: choose the idea that inspires you the most, that drags you into it and makes you feel like you have to tell it or you'll just have to die.

¤ Step two: if so inclined, find a way that suits you to write your storyline down, chapter by chapter or in broad stroaks so that you know where you're headed and where you're coming from. It's always good to make notes as you go along so that you can place your moments of foreshadoing in the right places.

¤ Step three: find the balance in your story, remembering to use techniques such as foreshadowing for upcoming events, new character introduction, plot twists etcetera, as well as thinking of the pace you wish to set for your storyline's development, as well as your characters'.

¤ Step four: everything in moderation. You don't have to use the tool of foreshadowing a plot twist on every two pages of your story for thirty pages, it's condescending toward your reader and makes him or her feel as though you don't trust their intelligence to pick up on your mentions of upcoming twists, even if the mentions are very brief and happen only two or three times in a hundred pages before the big event.

¤ Lastly - do not be intimidated by the white page. It's your friend. Let it's blankness inspire you to fill it! And read. Read, read and read. And then, read some more.

Books I Strongly Recommend:

The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber (the narrative is exquisite)

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro (the structure of the storytelling is quite compelling)

The Thornbirds by Colleen McCollough (character development and moderation)

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy (she plays with grammar like its made out of clay)

The Story of Pi by Yann Martel (for wonderful twists and turns)

The Strange Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon (for truly original characters)

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee(it has it all)

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (she has a very unique way of using punctuation)

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (she knew romance like no other, how to write love in perfect moderation)

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens (the wit of Dickens is unsurpassed)

The Basics: Before We Begin

2008-01-16T12:22:00.000-08:00

These are the most important things for any writer to have:

¤ A white page (can also be a napkin, a table cloth, toilet paper roll, a receipt, the back of a hand etcetera)

¤ A pen (could also be a pencil, a marker, a crayon, a piece of coal, or even blood, if the occasion calls for it. Personally I wouldn't use anything other than a pen - if I'm to write by hand - simply because a pencil needs a sharpener and, oh, horror, you can erase it. You must never erase a thought once it's down on paper unless you're absolutely certain that it doesn't belong there. As to the other items on the list, don't be ridiculous - blood? This is not a David Lynch movie.)

¤ A good head on your shoulders.

There are no substitutes for that one. You will have to deal with a lot of hardcore thrashing throughout your career as a writer, especially your career as a fresh writer believing that every word you write is absolutely in league with Shakespeare and that Ian McEwan should just hang his hat on a peg this instant and call it quits - there's a new sheriff in town and he ain't afraid of using his italix. You will have to listen to a lot of people disliking what it is you do and here's where the Good in the a-good-head-on-your-shoulders sentence comes in: you will have to listen intently, sift through all the maddening things that are being said, and find kernels of truth that you can use to Improve Your Writing.

I will come back to how you should structure a constructive review of someones work, and how you should expect them to give you constructive criticism, in a later post, but for now, this is all I wanted to say, and all I need for you to remember as we head into The Basics: Part One - Story.

Annie.

Prologue

2008-01-13T14:19:00.000-08:00

I am writing this prologue because that is what I hope my first message on this newborn blog will prove to be: the prologue of fruitful labor and many pages of thoughts, commentary on writing and the life that inspires it (or, at least, goes with it).

I am a writer, and have so been since I was old enough to scribble, but I'm still a novis in the world of Writing - such an intimidating, humbling world it is. My wish is that The White Page will aid in releasing the inspiration we all carry inside of us, the stories waiting to be told, the characters bursting to live and speak and opinionate themselves against Evil, or perhaps Good. It's our need to express the landscapes we can see before our inner eye, the universes we travel to in our daydreams, the paths we walk in silence that would - had we not been granted Inspiration - have been kept silent, forlorn and private.

What I wish for this blog is to begin a discussion, to attract you: the aspiring writer; the professional writer; the closeted writer; the insecure, the tentative, the obscure, the crushingly talented, the craving writer, to join in the discussion and make it your own. There are no stupid questions in this blog. Comment with a question and if the answer is not stored away in my head or the head of any of your peers, I will clickety-click away and fetch the answer. Probably by using Google. Heh.

Of course, I state here and now that I will, at times be inclined to, give the answer based on my own opinion, and as I am yet to be fully integrated with the world of Writing, you will have to choose whether you agree with me or not.

I can say this of myself: I am a novelist, a fanfiction writer (Buffy the Vampire Slayer for six bloody years), a short story compiler, a poet (without any knowledge of proper length or shape, forgive me), but my biggest passion is screenwriting. I have been writing screenplays for nearly five years and feel every day is a new stage in development for me - it's fabulous. I love all genres, but I detest sloppy plot, loose or flat dialogue, uninteresting characters and twists that have no foreshadowing - this goes for books as well. And as you read this blog, you will get to know what I'm about and whether you can trust my opinion or not.

I am growing as a writer, and I truly wish this to be the place to grow in, to come and look for those elusive answers to those big questions that haunts anyone seriously committed to this craft. You know what they are. As I go along, I will be asking myself those big questions and I am determined to get the answers and write them down for the world to see. In the end - after all the fruitfulness and thinking and living - I hope this blog will prove a guide for any writer who is in need of it.

I am a member of Urbis.com (my name is annie) and ShootingPeople.org, which is a sad little list, but all I have so far had time for. This is about to change and I am on the hunt for worthwhile, professional sites, all of which will be promoted on this blog, along with competitions and whatnots.

Let me round it up by saying that I am happy to be here, and believe it may be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Yeah, yeah, but it's a classic.

Hopefully yours,
Annie.