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Story Sunday: The Prestige

March 10th, 2013

Hi, everyone! It’s Story Sunday again and this week I’m talking about The Prestige. This movie is an adaptation of a novel with the same name by Christopher Priest. As with all adaptations, the question arises as to which version was better, but this is one of the few cases where I can’t decide. So, for this Story Sunday, I’m just going to take a little time and look at both versions of the story.

The novel has quite a few things going for it. The two main characters, Borden (Christian Bale) and Anjier (Hugh Jackman), are seen reading journals in the movie. Well, in the novel, the reader is actually reading the journals and that’s how the story is told. Anjier’s account, if I remember correctly, is dated and numbered. Borden’s journal is quite different. Rather than being a daily account of his life, it seems to be written in the future and looks back on his life. The style is amazing and the format is truly a different way of storytelling.

In both cases, you have the theme of obsession. Both magicians throw their lives away in a feud but have different ideas about why the feud is taking place. The audience sees that the obsession can manifest itself in different ways. For Anjier, the implications are personal. For Borden, it’s the people around him who suffer. His wife suffers, his daughter, his brother, everyone else suffers for the sake of the performance. Anjier sells himself, his soul, his humanity, to become better than Borden.

Now, there’s a spoiler ahead for those of you who haven’t seen the movie or read the book. In the movie, Anjier’s machine creates copies of himself. However, they’re true copies, they’re like clones. This leads to the conclusion that he killed himself, or his clone, in each show. The novel is different. The novel produces what seems to be a corpse. The new Anjier appears on a balcony and the old body has to be disposed of. The real difference comes at the end. Borden tampers with the machine during a show and the machine turns off halfway through the teleportation. This leaves a physically sick Anjier, and a wraith Anjier. The wraith can actually never die. He’s an incarnation of obsession that will never leave the family of the world. Both versions have amazing moral and personal implications. I really can’t say which one I prefer, so I’m glad to have experienced both versions.

Now it’s your turn! Which version of the story do you prefer? What do you think of these two men who sacrifice everything for obsession?

Writing Wednesday: Giving Feedback

March 6th, 2013

Hi, everyone! It’s Writing Wednesday here on the blog again! Today I’m talking about critiques, the importance of giving thoughtful feedback, and how to handle the work of others. As always, these are just my thoughts. I know that this subject can turn into a heated debate. I’m not saying my way is the only way, or the best way, it’s just the one that works for me.

Over the years, people have told me that my feedback is often thoughtful and insightful. In truth, I don’t really know that my feedback truly deserves the praise it gets. I tend to say what I think and everything I say is in the interest of making the piece better. To me, it’s always been a simple goal. Recently, someone (let’s call them Vinny Von Varlow) asked me to give them advice about looking at the work of others. The people around Vinny Von Varlow didn’t seem to value, or react well to, the feedback given to them. So Vinny came to me with the hope of sharpening his skills.

This request made me think about what qualifies as good feedback. I needed to think about what I was doing, consciously or unconsciously, that made people respond well to my advice. I also thought about advice I had received in the past, what advice I liked and didn’t like. What made me listen and what made me dismissive.

The first thing to keep in mind is that the person came to you for advice on their story. One of the most common errors I see in workshops comes from a disconnect between the advice giver and the person receiving advice, the writer. The advice giver should always try to remember that they’re helping the writer mold a story. Think of it like clay. The writer has handed you their clay and said, “I’m trying to make a komodo dragon.” The person giving feedback should then proceed to give advice on how to make the clay look more like a komodo dragon. It’s rarely appreciated when the feedback is, “komodo dragons blow, make a duck.”

To give thoughtful feedback, you need to try and see what the writer is going for and help them accomplish it. Pinch the clay here, reshape it there, and say, “if we added some more clay to this spot, it might look better.” Sometimes it’s hard to do this, I know. We start reading someone’s piece and think… there’s so much potential with this idea. Get rid of these characters, add a few over here, and really, the plot should revolve around this person rather than that person. Do all of that and you know what you have? A completely different story. A different story created by someone other than the writer.

There are exceptions to this rule. One time a friend came to me looking to brain storm new ideas and directions for a character. He wanted to make major sweeping changes to the plot arcs and characters. We had a lot of fun with it. However, when someone doesn’t ask you to do that and you take it upon yourself to demand major changes to plot, lore, and characters, it probably won’t be appreciated. In truth, it’s a very simple idea. When you give advice, make sure you’re helping the writer tell the story they want to tell. If you move away from that and begin telling the writer to write the story you want to tell, of the one you want to see them tell, you’ve missed the mark.

Also, in my experience, overwhelmingly negative feedback doesn’t really help anyone. One of my professors would make a checklist for himself. Essentially, it was a checklist of the most important writing elements that need to be present in every story. So I’m talking about things like a coherent structure, developed characters, and so on. When he came to three major issues in a story, he would stop there and focus on those three issues. He would educate the person on how to improve in those areas. He would then mention that there are some other problems, but note that fixing these three large problems needed to come before anything else. This created two feelings, a sense of priority because these things need to be fixed first, and a sense of hope because the story hasn’t been torn apart at every level.

I’ve heard a few arguments about feedback and I don’t mind saying where I stand. Some people believe that writing workshops should be vicious camps where everyone gets torn to shreds and people are forced to tears. Others have told me that they believe students and writers can benefit just as much from only getting positive feedback. I think they’re both extreme. So here’s what I believe. When someone does something write (and they usually do something right), praise it. Tell them it works, tell them it’s good, tell them it’s the strongest part of their writing. When something needs to be improved, point it out. However, don’t just point at it, explain how it can be done better.

This is crucial, don’t just announce that what they’ve done is wrong, tell them how they can do it better. If I point at a character and say, “that character is flat,” why should the writer listen to me? On the other hand, if I say, “this character seems flat. I would like to see more tension and conflict from the relationship she has with her husband. Her kids are driving her crazy but her husband doesn’t help, does this make her think back on the dynamics of her parents and the house she grew up in?” That’s decent, or at least it’s a start. A writer can grab onto that and think about what will make their character better instead of focusing on the negative aspect of the comment.

Vinny Von Varlow had made some of the larger missteps that I mentioned. I’m happy to say that since making some adjustment to his methods, his partners react better to his feedback. This is great for everyone. He feels useful, the working relationship is mended, and his partners will probably spend more time giving him thoughtful feedback in the future. Like I said, this is what works for me. I’ve seen it work for a few other people as well, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only, or best, way.

Now it’s your turn! What does thoughtful feedback mean to you? When you receive feedback, what makes your listen and what makes you dismissive?

Story Sunday: Skyfall

March 3rd, 2013

Hi, everyone! It’s Story Sunday again and this week I’m talking about Skyfall. I saw this movie very recently and it actually inspired me to write a post about prisoners and the balance of power in a scene.

Here’s the risk the film makers took, they broke the usual formula. I like Bond movies, for the most part. However, I’ve never been blown away by a Bond movie. There are good Bond movies, bad Bond movies, but they’re all Bond movies. This one, honestly, didn’t need to be a Bond movie. You could have taken quite a few of the same elements, distanced them from the Bond name, and I don’t think people would have said “oh, this is just like a bond film.” That tactic worked, no question. You had the great elements of Bond mixed with a story that wasn’t made from a pre-packaged Bond recipe.

This movie had a lot of creative action. Sure, it had explosions, but it also had a lot of normal guns. The focus wasn’t on the gadgets, the big bombs, or the special device that will be used at just the right moment. Instead, Bond was on the run with M and they had to get a little creative with some of their weaponry. They had to use their ammo wisely. Essentially, they had to survive and I believed that doing so wasn’t guaranteed.

Just as The Dark Knight feels different from the established superhero standard, Skyfall feels different from the previous Bond films. We didn’t have a Bond girl, though we did have a cut away sex scene. The romance wasn’t quite there, but vulnerability walked through the door, despair followed, and it was truly a struggle for the protagonist to succeed. He was no longer the top agent or the pinnacle of physical fitness and ability. Instead, Bond was the one who persevered, endured, and wouldn’t walk away.

This seems to have turned into a glowing movie review but, in truth, I really liked the movie and can’t say much against it. The plot worked, the pacing was good, the character development felt natural and necessary, and the acting was fantastic. The villain didn’t even have the classic Bond villain feel. Sure, he had theatrical moments, but he was well-written, developed, and carried an interesting reflection of what Bond could potentially become, if he decided to go down a certain path. If you haven’t seen it, check it out. I don’t think you’ll regret it.

Now it’s your turn, what movies “break the formula” of their genre or franchise? Or, if you’ve seen this movie, what did you think of it? Was it what you expected or did it surprise you?

Story Sunday: A History of Violence

February 24th, 2013

Hey, everyone! It’s Story Sunday again and today I’m talking about A History of Violence. This movie came out in 2005 while I was still in high school. Over the years, this movie has really stuck with me. It’s a story that I enjoy.

The plot is a pretty classic idea and one that occurs fairly often in movies in books. The main character, Tom Stall (played by Viggo Mortensen), is a man with a secret past. He lives in a small town, has a family, owns a little diner, and is known as a man of the community. One day, a couple of people try to rob his store at gunpoint. He’s willing to let the money go but can’t stand by as they begin to threaten other people in the diner. Stall kills them, the media puts his face in the news, and his past begins to catch up with him.

One thing that sticks out in my mind is how he kills the men in the diner. It’s a great scene. He kills the men, obviously reveals some experience with a gun, but does so without looking like Jason Bourne. Too often, in a story where the main character has a violent past, the audience is shown someone who looks like they should’ve been hired by the government for their extreme abilities. Tom Stalls violent past involved being a thug of sorts, and as a thug, he’s familiar with weapons and violence but he’s not James Bond.

Does the story work?

Honestly, I think the story works on some very simple levels. The plot itself is straightforward because the focus is truly on the character of Tom Stall. If you don’t expect a plot with lots of twists and turns, I think you’ll really see what the story has to offer through the main character.

Why does it work?

It’s not complex but I don’t think that’s really the point. The issue on display is who we are clashing with who we may have been. The idea of who we really are, who we want to be, and the conflict of opposing identities. Where does Tom really fall in regard to being a person? Is this new identity truly fake or is it who he really is, who he has become?

David Cronenberg’s style of directing and storytelling resonates with me. I’m sure I’ll talk about a few of his other movies on this blog eventually. I’m also a big fan of Viggo Mortensen. I think he’s an amazing actor and brings a lot to this character in this role. Without giving away the ending, I will mention something about it. There’s very little time spent on wrap up. When the conflict ends, the movie ends. Some people didn’t care for this ending but I really liked it. While some things were resolved, issues of identity and forgiveness were left open. An open ending can be annoying, believe me. However, in this case I think it allowed the reader to come to their own conclusions about the characters and the path set before them. Eastern Promises, another Cronenberg movie, has a very similar ending.

Here’s a link to the trailer… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74FdnDxptH4 If you’ve never seen it, I think it’s worth checking out. The movie isn’t for everyone but I enjoyed it and you might too.

Now it’s your turn. What do you think? Have you seen the movie? Have you seen Cronenberg’s other films? Have you seen Mortensen’s other films? When you see a movie or read a book, do you prefer complete closure from an ending?

WRITING WEDNESDAY: USING PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

February 20th, 2013

Hi, everyone! It’s Writing Wednesday again and this week I’m writing about using personal experience in your stories. I decided to talk about this because it’s something I struggle with. I’ve tried many times and I haven’t really had much success with it. This is one of the reasons that I tend to stay away from writing non-fiction about my own personal experiences. Actually, it’s part of why I was hesitant to start a blog.

Right now, I’m working on a novel that requires me to dig deep into my own life. It’s fiction but I’m drawing a lot from my life. Certain people, places, and situations are inspired by things I was involved in or witnessed a few years ago. However, the story as a whole is fiction and I’ll label it as such. The title of fiction allows me to take creative license with dialogue and situations.

My difficulty with pulling from personal experience usually comes from being too close to the subject matter. Being too close to the subject matter can go in a lot of directions, so today I think I’ll focus on writing about a relationship or friendship. This is what I’m pulling from right now so I can discuss some of the challenges I’ve faced.

The difficulty with writing about something like a relationship is creating tension that brings in the reader. A common mistake when beginning to write a non-fiction piece (or pulling from personal experience for fiction) is something I’ll call “assumed importance.” The subject is important. Why? Because it happened to you. Well, that’s great but it needs to be important to the reader as well. The significance of this moment, day, month, or year needs to be shared with the reader in a way they can make their own.

I’ve worked through this issue a few different ways. The most useful technique has been to write out a whole scene or argument that I can remember. Then I let it sit for a day. When I come back, I put on my fiction glasses (they have googley eye lenses, a miner’s light, and horned, glittered, brimstone rims) and I alter things. I add things to make a point clearer but mostly I cut things. I cut the uninteresting things people tend to say but keep the stuff that sounds natural, as well as interesting. If this is near the beginning of a story, or introducing a new character, I then write down why it’s important. Not why it was important to me, but why it’s important to the narrative as a whole. Then I try to work that in near the beginning as well as I can.

To be honest, working in personal experience, especially relationship troubles with family, friends, or a significant other, takes a lot of work. It can be harder than just making it up because there’s personal attachment. Everything feels important but, in truth, not everything is important. Why do it? Well, I’ve seen people produce some really potent writing when bringing in personal experience. If you can distance yourself from the subject and treat it like a story, you’ll find that you can do the same thing.

By the way, if you’re in a fiction workshop but secretly write a non-fiction story, brace yourself for a difficult workshop. In non-fiction workshops, I’ve encountered a strong sense of respect among writers and certain subject matter. It’s non-fiction, we’re all aware that the things mentioned usually happened near the people writing about it. If you disguise your non-fiction as fiction, people won’t react the same way in a fiction workshop because they assume you’re making it all up. So, for example, if you’re writing about a relative that passed away, your classmates won’t hesitate to tell you that the character may not be relatable or likable. They’re not doing this to be mean (I hope), they’re doing it because they assume the story fiction. I’ve seen this, and things like this, happen many times over the years. It’s always heartbreaking to see someone break down over a situation like that. So that’s my warning, since I’m already talking about personal experience, fiction, and non-fiction.

Also, I should mention something else near the end here. We all drop in personal experience from our lives. Whether it’s internal struggle over doing the right thing, or a fight with a significant other, these things have a way of coming out. What I’ve written today is just about trying to consciously work in large chunks of personal experience into your writing.

Now it’s your turn, do you work personal experience into your own writing? What challenges have you encountered and what techniques do you use to overcome difficulties?