|
|
some of my evaluative patterns
At the beginning of 2008 I threw together a list of 28 things I found
myself saying over and over in my Calendar articles: things I like, things
I don't, things that seem to me like good rules for writers to follow.
The order was basically random, but as I have since referred to most of
these by number in later articles, I guess I'm stuck with it. In the
intervening years I've added a few more, so I guess it's good that I had
no particular order to begin with because trying to figure out where each
new item fits in thematically would be a pain in the ass.
| 1 |
The first of three patterns on the importance of surfaces. Yes, the
deeper aspects of a work (ideas, structure) are important, but the
surface is what the audience is most immediately interacting with.
And in a written work, I will forgive a lot in exchange for a
memorable sentence. On the flip side, if the prose is boring,
those other aspects had better be awesome.
|
| 2 |
Similarly, unappealing art in a comic tends to be a deal-breaker for
me. Everything else about the comic could be brilliant, but if I
hate the way the noses are drawn it'll be hard for me to be a fan.
|
| 3 |
And while I have a whole pattern below (#34) about how uninterested I
am in the specifically cinematic aspects of film form, I can certainly
be wowed into liking a film more by beautiful or even just striking
images.
|
| 4 |
By contrast, trying to evoke gorgeous landscapes and the like in prose is
extremely difficult. Long descriptive passages very rarely work for
me. My eyes just bounce off them.
|
| 5 |
But let's move beyond the surface. Non-fiction, in particular, must
have a clear structure. The whole point of non-fiction, I would
argue, is to organize information and thereby aid the reader in
understanding it. A book may be full of interesting data, but without
a framework for it, I find that not much tends to stick.
|
| 6 |
Non-fiction also tends to fall into the trap of failing to communicate
with the reader. All too many writers, especially in academia, act as if
they're programmers in 1980 trying to fit an entire videogame into four
kilobytes. Write to communicate; don't just densely encode information
for storage. It's hard to escape the feeling that these writers are
trying to convince the reader that they're smart. But a good non-fiction
book makes the reader feel smart.
|
| 7 |
Just as non-fiction writers often need to unpack things for the reader,
narrative writers should usually resist the temptation to summarize.
It's one of the most basic rules: show, don't tell. If you find
yourself writing, "Alfredo defended himself bitterly. The other council
members pitched in with their opinions.", go back and try being a little
more concrete.
|
| 8 |
While I like non-fiction to have a clear structure, in narrative works
I often like structural tricks. It is wonderful to think you're
watching story X and then discover that all along you've really been
watching story Q. Even a crazy left turn at the end can be a real treat.
|
| 9 |
However, twists only work if you have some investment in the story
being twisted. Twists like "the world of the story isn't real!"
fall flat if that world never felt real in the first place. The same
goes for sleight of hand involving story elements that never registered.
"That guy was actually an enemy all along!" "And, uh, who was that
guy again?"
|
| 10 |
Many stories these days are told out of sequence. That can be cool.
But a non-chronological story still needs to be good enough that the
audience would find it compelling if told in sequence. If there's
nothing to the story other than the way it's told, why bother?
|
| 11 |
One trick I see less often is the creation of a false ceiling. False
ceilings are risky, but among the most rewarding tricks a narrative can
achieve when successful. For instance, when a character initially
seems to have a very narrow emotional range, it's very powerful when
that character escapes that range. An even bigger gamble is for an
entire work to seem bad until vindicating its wince-provoking beginning
with the revelation that, yes, it was bad on purpose — more
specifically, that it was accomplishing something important to the story
by being bad.
|
| 12 |
Related to the idea of the false ceiling is a phenomenon that I once
called "the redemption of the ludicrous." The redemption of the
ludicrous is wonderful. It involves revisiting a work that is either
for children or just plain not very good and turning it into a respectable
work for adults. (A lot of superhero comics fall into this category.)
|
| 13 |
A mild form of the story-X-story-Q phenomenon I mentioned above is genre
blending. The most basic version of this is a blend of comedy and
tragedy. Comedy and tragedy can and should coexist. Life, after
all, is pretty funny from moment to moment but then heartbreaking when
you step back and look at the big picture.
|
| 14 |
On to content. One of the best things a storyteller can do is
thoroughly think through the premise. I love it when a story starts
to unfold and it becomes clear that not a single angle has been
overlooked. The best science fiction tends to fall into this category.
|
| 15 |
However, I tend not to like science fiction very much as a rule, because,
at least in my experience, the characterization tends to be weak. The
rule the SF writers I've read tend to violate is this: don't treat
characters as sets of traits rather than as fully realized human beings
with unique life stories. Why map out an cool alternate world and
then populate it with types rather than people?
|
| 16 |
I've mentioned some things that can keep literature from working very
well. Some say that literature never works, and create piles of words
that aim to deconstruct the very notion of literature as anything more
than the freeplay of signs or some such crap. These are the worst.
Aim to fail, and you will; you will prove nothing thereby.
|
| 17 |
One phenomenon that I have encountered a lot both in the most highbrow
corners of the literary world and the lowest is the idea that somehow
Christ imagery adds quality to a work. It doesn't. It really, really
doesn't. Enough with the Christ imagery! (I once bailed on
auditing a class on the modern novel when the professor spent one of
the early lectures going through a story and pointing out all the parts
that obliquely referred to Jesus.)
|
| 18 |
Subtext adds richness to a story, but a lot of authors seem worried that
the audience might miss it and therefore short-circuit the subtext by
blurting it out. Don't speak the subtext! Stories involving
psychiatry are a classic example of this, but sociological stories are
also spoiled by having characters sit around and discuss society. You
can really undermine a story by telling the reader everything
you've just shown.
|
| 19 |
Some stories exist purely in order to trot out characters who essentially
say, as a Lyttle Lytton entrant once wrote, "I have ninety minutes and
lots of unpopular opinions, so let's get started." Let's not! If you
feel like writing an essay, be honest and write one instead of putting
your essay in the mouth of a character (and then have other characters
talk about how great that character is).
|
| 20 |
Some books do the opposite, using characters not as mouthpieces but as
anti-mouthpieces to beat over the head. Piñatas don't make
good characters. If your story goes "a character says stuff I don't
agree with, and then the narrator talks about how vile that character
is," reconsider writing it.
|
| 21 |
One of the major strengths of film as a medium is that it can make even
outlandish things seem as though they're really happening. I'm not
talking about special effects here, but the simple fact of fleshing out a
story with sets and actors and stuff. So unlike Mike D'Angelo, who seems
to have a penchant for movies that blur the line between reality and
artifice, I tend to think that movies should save the theatricality
for the theater.
|
| 22 |
Old movies tend to be more theatrical than more recent ones, and their
conventions strike me as foreign if I'm feeling charitable and wrong if
I'm feeling grumpy. So in general I have a hard time relating to older
films, which feel to me like artifacts of a distant, inaccessible era.
|
| 23 |
As long as we're talking about foreignness: I grew up in California, and
to me, Britain is a foreign country. The fact that British people
and I happen to speak variant dialects of the same language doesn't make
the UK feel like home. I have much more of an affinity for Canada or
Australia than for Britain. Britain I would class alongside a country
like Japan: familiar as a developed country that has had an influence on
my culture, but still, not my culture.
|
| 24 |
But hey, going to foreign places and times can be fun! Geographically
and chronologically grounded narrative is great. I often like stories
that evoke a specific place and time, even when they're not places or
times I would care to visit in real life. Much of what I like about them
is not the vicarious tourism they offer so much as the acknowledgment that
everything happens in, and is affected by, its setting.
|
| 25 |
Films are so good at conveying places and faces, images and sounds, that
often narrative doesn't just take a back seat but ends up in the trunk.
Movies and television series tend to be experience delivery systems
more than they are stories. It's two hours of dinosaurs, or girl-girl
swordfights, or daydreaming about a manic pixie dream girl having a crush
on you, loser that you are. Whether it's soulmate porn or torture porn or
food porn or whatever, the stories matter as little as they do in actual
porn.
|
| 26 |
If you're going to be an experience delivery system, at least deliver the
experience. Movies (and stories in general) shouldn't be coy. If
you're going to make a movie about, for instance, people getting high and
fucking, well, then, you should probably show people getting high and
fucking.
|
| 27 |
There is a point at which "clever" devolves into "cutesy," and
cutesy is death. This can mean trying too hard to jazz things up
with wordplay, or going overboard playing postmodern structural games, or
hitting the FDA limit for whimsy.
|
| 28 |
The last pattern in the original batch builds on many of those above.
A text's awareness of its shortcomings does not make those shortcomings
okay. It's the old "It's stupid, but it knows it's stupid and has
fun with it!" routine. If you know your project has a problem, don't
cover your ass by commenting on the problem. Fix it. If your
book is boring, having characters comment on how boring everyone is
doesn't make the boredom easier to bear. If your characters are annoyingly
long-winded, having them chuckle about their prolixity doesn't make it
better.
|
| 29 |
Storytelling is about communication, but dreams tend to be meaningful only
to the dreamer. Film is a visual medium, but dreams tend to be a tissue
of internal states that can't be seen. Narrative is a web of causality,
but in dreams the links between cause and effect are tenuous at best.
Therefore dream logic is the enemy of narrative and should be
avoided, particularly in movies.
|
| 30 |
The prose in a written work doesn't need to be completely transparent.
I'm all for style points. But the meaning of each sentence
should be transparent. No colorless green ideas sleeping furiously.
If the world of the story is sufficiently surreal that some strings of
words might need a bit of setup, do the setup first.
|
| 31 |
A lot of stories rely heavily on keeping one or more characters in
the dark about things the audience knows. This is supposed to create
suspense, but it just makes me want to shout the secrets at the
characters in question. Suspense doesn't heighten attention;
rather, it creates impatience, which dampens the effect of what goes
on until the secret is revealed. I want to know what will happen
next, not when the characters will catch up to what I already know.
|
| 32 |
I don't remember why I thought I needed to make a whole new pattern for
this, since it's pretty much covered by numbers 7, 18, and 19, but since
I'm pretty much stuck with the numbering, here it is: Some stories exist
in order to convey ideas. Great! But those stories should
illustrate their ideas; don't just stick the ideas in the
characters' mouths. That doesn't mean that characters can never say
anything of substance. But the things a character says should tell us
something about that character — and "in agreeing with me on
this vital political/philosophical/etc. issue, my character proves to be
a right-thinking individual" doesn't count.
|
| 33 |
I'm quite fond of the uncanny valley between realism and fantasy.
I like fantastic milieux to be treated naturalistically, with careful
attention to mundane detail, and I like real-world stories to be full of
people with extraordinary qualities and abilities.
|
| 34 |
There are certain media in which form interests me.
Interactive fiction is one, though I have little patience for it as a
member of the audience. Comics is another, though I seem to have settled
into a pretty rigid style in my own efforts in that medium. But the
specifically cinematic aspects of film form don't particularly interest
me. Any movie whose chief raison d'être is to explore how to
convey something with a camera is pretty unlikely to be my thing.
|
| 35 |
A story should have a beginning, an ending, and a
planned middle, not a beginning, possibly an ending,
and an indefinitely drawn out and episodic middle. The latter
structure is endemic to American television, which is one reason I
don't have a TV.
|
| 36 |
Many authors have attempted to demonstrate the
boundlessness of human potential by writing stories in which human
potential is boundless. I once read a book that argued that you could fly
around like Superman if only you could, like, free your mind or something.
It proved its point by telling the story of a guy who freed his mind and
thereby gained the ability to fly around like Superman. The problem is
that fictional examples don't prove anything. You don't actually
prove the existence of time travel by writing "I have the ability to go
through time, he suddenly remembered while at a bus stop near a tree."
|
| 37 |
Closely related to patterns 29 and 30 is this one:
when the logic of a story deliberately breaks down in order to convey a
character's madness, my ability to get anything more out of the story
than "I am looking at ink marks on a piece of paper" breaks down as
well. Prose that reflects a character's lost grip on reality will also
lose me.
|

Return to the Calendar page!
|
|
|
|
|