Can you guess the character?

I've been following along with the Future of Storytelling course provided by iversity, or as they call it, a MOOC (Massive Open On-line Course). As you might have guessed, it's a big course that anyone can join on the Internet, and like all courses has hours of on-line content, interviews and lectures, and weekly homework in the form of creative tasks. Last week we had to describe our all time favourite story from memory (I went with Danny the Champion of the World) and this week I've written a character profile for one of my favourite TV characters. Can you guess who I've written about? Click the word cloud to enlarge.


 

Think you know? Find the answer below!

The second question asked; what makes this protagonist worth following through a whole series of episodes. What is it that HOOKed you? 

I like that this character doesn't take c**p from anyone. He's a bit of a contradiction in that he's adamant that he's nothing like his father yet in trying to uphold the law he breaks most of the rules in the book. He's also got relationship issues and can't seem to hold a girl down. I empathise with him on that one. He's also cool in the way he always wears his cowboy hat and walks about as if he owns the place. Underneath it all, is a very complex man. He proved himself willing to put others first but must open up about his true feelings for his father. Perhaps he'll do that in season five...

Worked it out? See below...

 Oh and if you want to join with the the MOOC, follow this link and get posting :)










Character Name: Raylan Givens
TV series this character is in: Justified

Casualty, Cars and Crisis Points; a Three Day Storywriting Workshop with John Yorke

Free stationary, coffee, and John Yorke; Nope, I can't think of a better writing prize either!

I still remember how excited I was when I got the email. “You’ve won!” it said, “a three day story writing course in London with the former Controller of BBC Drama Production, John Yorke, who’s worked on Eastenders, Casualty, and Waterloo Road.” I went in with sweaty palms. Then John asked everyone what car they drove and laughed at how telling of my character a Peugot 106 was. I relaxed into my chair; this was going to be a fun few days.

It was all to promote John’s new book, Into the Woods; a Five Act Journey into Story. For a free course it wasn’t bad. We all met at the main office of Penguin Books, John’s publisher. I was a little worried when the receptionist had no clue who I was, but as the others slowly crept in, I was relieved to meet the wonderful people I’d be sharing my prize with, seven of us in total. We got our free journals (I claimed two…) and moved to an intimate office in a busy media building, which was kitted out with coffee, biscuits, and later a spread of wraps.

Once the computer technician had made his hundredth trip to hook up the power point, we were ready to begin…

John started with 25 tips on writing drama, which went over a lot of stuff I’ve covered before, such as hit the ground running, have a concrete goal, reveal character in action, but a few things stood out. I liked his definition of how not to write on the nose, that the more interesting emotion is the one your character is hiding. The best part was debating the inciting incident of Star Wars (and John, if you’re reading, it’s when the droids arrive, okay?).

The ten questions crib sheet was one of the best tools; a list of points needed for an interesting story that works. I could spend a whole post describing them, but effectively they pin-point a protagonist, give him a goal, set him against an opponent and a series of obstacles until they learn something and change. I’ve struggled to create believable change before, but John’s definition just made sense.

It was interesting to hear John’s thesis, one which sets his book apart from the many other screenwriting ‘how to manuals,’ about the way we as humans perceive the world, and how that process of perception has been translated into the way we tell stories. It was also helpful to talk about five act structure, which gives an extra two acts to three act structure to prevent the dreaded sagging middle section. It was also a great way to study TV drama.

John used to run the BBC Writer’s Academy, and we had a little sample of what that might be like when we had to break episodes of Eastenders, Casualty, and Holby City. In other words, we had to analyse the episode using the ten steps, and write a better version. It was intense, but made me realise the potential of continuing drama to produce an exciting story.

Our final task, on the final morning, was to use all our knowledge to break a documentary about the building of the Brooklyn Bridge into a feature film, cast it, and give it a title, all in two hours. We had to work fast to make it exciting and create believable change, but I think Mary and I had a winner, if only our appalling title, Mrs Robling’s Bridge, hadn’t let us down.

My journey into the woods introduced me to some wonderful people, and their business cards are now stored readily with my thought provoking notes. I can’t thank John enough, and a shout out also goes to Ingrid from Penguin for keeping everything afloat; thanks! I leave with respect for continuing drama, and a new found urge to continue my quest as a professional story geek.

You can read more about John Yorke on this page from the BBC Press Office  and on the Company Pictures website.

Check out the following link for his book, Into the Woods; a Five Act Journey into Story.

A Main Character; is There Such a Thing?

 I saw this great film; it was about a girl who...

Admittedly, when we describe a film, we often talk about one central character, usually the character with a weakness that goes on a journey and changes, often called the protagonist. But is the protagonist the only important character? Perhaps the protagonist is the most central character in terms of conflict and theme, but I think it’s better to consider all characters as equally important, something I’ve been able to do better when using Roger Stennett’s five story development questions, which I look at below with examples from the film, My Sister’s Keeper.

Spoilers below.

1.    What do I want to say?

As I mentioned in my Down on the Farm post, you’ve really got to have a passion for the story you are telling and have a strong message to express. I can imagine that Jodi Picoult, who wrote the original Novel of My Sister’s Keeper, had a strong sense of what the story was all about.

For those who don’t know, My Sister’s Keeper is all about Anna, who’s engineered cells and tissues are saving her older sister Kate’s life from Leukaemia, who sues her family for the rights to her own body. There are lots of moral questions, but mainly it’s about the mother, Sara, the protagonist, who fights to keep Kate alive, damaging her family and sometimes even preventing Kate from positive life experiences, whilst Anna sues not just for the rights to her body, but for Kate’s right to die. The film asks how far we are willing to go to save a loved one; is it right to put the needs of everyone else, including the one we are protecting, second to our need to keep them alive? What I think is wonderful, is how there are no easy solutions, and finally Sara is forced to let Kate go, giving her what she wants, celebrating the good life she’s lived, and finally bringing her family together.

2.    Who are these people?

This question seems to ask about a community, and unless your character is a hermit (but then consider how the community feels about that hermit) they have people in their lives with values. How to Train Your Dragon features a community of tough Viking dragon slayers, and The Firm a community of highflying, intrusive businessmen. My Sister’s Keeper is all about the family unit, and each one is dealing with the care of Kate whilst trying to keep their family together, and it’s through how they go about this that the story and theme unfolds.

3.    What do they want?

Sara wants to keep Kate alive and well, whereas Anna wants to sue her parents for the rights to her own body, until it’s then revealed she, along with her brother Jesse, wants to help Kate to die. Brian, Sara’s husband initially helps with Kate’s treatment, but then he discharges Kate to take her to the beach against Sara’s wishes, showing his allegiance to Anna and Jesse.

Everyone wants something and side under two distinct moral points of view, to let Kate live or die, but overall everyone wants to keep their family together and each go separate ways to achieve it.

4.    What stops them getting it?

The film is based upon the idea that Sara would never allow Kate to die, and Anna has to get the rights to her body to make that decision. We have the scenes in the court room involving Campbell, Anna’s lawyer, and Judge De Salvo, who is dealing with her own grief. I love how the family are all in opposition, but still sit around the dinner table together, attempting to function as best they can as a normal family despite the conflicts bubbling under the surface.

5.    Why should I care?

This is hard question to answer. “It’s my story, of course you should care!” I think it’s about the stakes of the film, what happens if the characters should fail. If Anna doesn’t get the rights to her body she will have to undergo several operations. It’s horrible to think that a child should have to do that, and we care because there is something moral going on here and a person could get hurt.

I also think we care when we empathise with the situation. We don’t like Sara for doing what she’s doing to Anna, but we understand the lengths a mother would go to save her daughter. If a character does something morally wrong yet we get why they are doing it, I think we are gripped. We start to question the way we view the world. What is right or wrong? That’s what a great film or story is supposed to do. Make use reassess the way we view the world, and come out feeling changed ourselves. That’s why we should care, because this film is saying something important.


I thought I’d wrap up with my inspiration to this post. I read an article describing the primary character and secondary characters, with a warning not to reveal too many surprises about the secondary characters as this might distract from the primary character. Although I do agree that we don’t want to dilute the film too much or else it could lose its focus on the protagonist’s journey, we, as writers shouldn’t think in a black and white sense of primary and secondary. All the character’s in My Sister’s Keeper serve the change in Sara’s character through added texture and colour. Even if certain aspects of character don’t make the final cut, it’s good to know all your characters inside out, and to remember that all characters are central to the story with their own unique purpose.

 You can read more about screenwriter, dramatist and director Roger Stennett, on his website 

 

The Case of The Station Agent; Do We Always Need a Concrete Goal?

I was once told in a screenwriting workshop in Cologne that characters must always have a visible, tangible goal, the more concrete the better. If she wants to win a contest, she wants to win a medal. If he wants his son back, he wants the custody papers. But what about stories where the character has no goal, such as the Station Agent? This post looks at how this film works without a concrete goal, and how instead of an aimless, wandering narrative, becomes a gripping, emotional drama.

Peter Dinklage, who plays Tyrion Lannister in HBO’s A Game of Thrones, got his first central role in the Station Agent in 2003, a film which focuses solely on the difficulties that being a dwarf has placed upon his character. Fin avoids all social situations, be it riding on the train or going to bars, and when we’re first introduced to his character in a day in the life sequence of him working at a toy store in the city, we gather he only has one friend in the world, Henry, and besides that, keeps himself to himself, and avoids reacting to the many japes people make at his expense. It’s a defence mechanism to keep the bad people out, but has instead distanced Fin from life’s good experiences.

This distancing is Fin’s weakness, his character flaw that needs to change for him to find happiness, and he has no intention of changing any time soon. Spoilers follow!

Henry dies suddenly of a heart attack and, in accordance with his will, the toy shop is closed and its stock liquidated. With noting left, except the inheritance of a small train depot in rural New Jersey, Fin walks (he doesn’t drive or take a train) all the way to his new property in the small town of Newfoundland. Fin could easily keep himself to himself in the city, but in this small, lonely community, Fin has to avoid the advances of two people desperate for his friendship.

To recap, we have this guy, Fin, a dwarf, who would rather walk many miles than take a crowded train, who tries his hardest to avoid Joe, who works the refreshment van right outside the train depot, and Olivia who has recently lost her son, and who, after accidentally running Fin down a few times, tries to apologise to him. Fin is avoiding things (albeit rather actively) rather than trying to get them, but this only works because of the active characters around him.

Olivia sees a bit of her son in Fin, and gradually she and Joe, through their constant advances, and their interest in Fins hobbies, in train watching, and train chasing (which Fin couldn’t do until they came along as he can’t drive) they become close friends.

As in Thomas McCarthy’s second film, The Visitor, around the middle of the film we see our passive hero become active. In the Visitor, Walter, a lonely businessman discovers two immigrants in his apartment, Tarek and Zainab, and lets them stay. He bonds with Tarek over a common interest in music (notice again an interesting hobby forming a bridge of friendship, but one that is central; the music is actually him grieving for his dead wife, as trains form the theme of distancing through how Fin walks the tracks, the right of way as he calls it, as opposed to travelling on trains).

Then, something happens. Tarek is arrested and Walter has to fight to get him released. In the Station Agent, the goal is less concrete, but it's still there. Olivia’s estranged husband comes to visit one morning whilst Fin and Joe are in the house, and after that she ignores them. Fin makes it his mission to get back her friendship. He gets hurt, and hurts others too, and this gives him the push he needed to come into the open and live; he gets drunk in a bar, stands on a bar stool and tells those making japes to take a long, hard look at him.

This film works because of the characters around the protagonist. Olivia has a problem which directly involves Fin (she admits, when Fin saves her from killing herself, that she wanted her son back and was distant from Fin as he reminded her of him), and allows Fin through no fault of his own to cause her hurt. She’s the hero of the film, and without her, Fin wouldn’t change. Joe is great too, because he is lonely and desperately wants a friend.

As drama works when someone wants something and has trouble getting it, a concrete goal lets this build easily, and lets us know if they pass or fail. But I think it’s possible for a film to work without a goal, as long as there are active characters to build conflict, the protagonist has a weakness, and is in a situation that encourages him to embrace his need.

The Station Agent, on IMDB, by Thomas McCarthy (2003)

The Visitor, on IMDB, by Thomas McCarthy (2007)

Here’s a link to The Visitor script. If anyone can find the script of the Station Agent let me know!

How to Make Your Monologue Dramatic; Emerging Writer’s Workshop Two

I’ve written a few monologues before, but all have read like a sprawl of thought slammed onto the page, poorly written and certainly not dramatic. Thankfully, Angela Street showed me and the rest of her Emerging Writer’s Workshop how to make a more engaging monologue through three simple steps, giving us the confidence to rewrite our attempts.

1. Is your central character doing something to someone?

This forms the basic action of the scene; what your character is doing. The prisoner struggles to persuade the interrogator of his innocence. The boyfriend tries to apologise to his girlfriend. A patient struggles to hide their pain and convince a loved one of their comfort. It’s much like a scene in any film or play, except the character cannot just be retelling a story, or else they are a narrator, saying what happened instead of trying to achieve a goal.

Before the class had even begun, Angela tasked us with writing a monologue inspired by bits of fluff and glitter left on the floor by an earlier art and craft session. I was a bit nervous as we only had a few minutes, and ended up writing a fantasy story about a father’s mistake.

Was I too late? Did I not say the words in time? These stars; her ashes, poor little ashes are all that remains of her. I didn’t believe, I didn’t want to believe, and my imaginative lack the chain that choked her life away. Is this how they all end, in a puddle on the floor, from long life or from the likes of me, a disbeliever, chanting with refuses of, “they don’t exist.” Such childishness. She was right, and Christ she’ll be back soon. Could I say I spilled some art and craft kit? Perhaps a sign, yes for Aunt Jude’s birthday – but what sign? Do I have time to make one? Or will she know? She knew a lot; she must know how fairies reach their end.

Rather than addressing the audience, this is just the father’s internal thoughts. If he spoke to us as if a friend, for example, it could work, but only if he tried to do something to that friend, perhaps justifying an action, such as to hide the dead fairy and conceal the truth.

2. Why is your character saying it now?

In Dial M for Murder, Tony decides to kill his wife Margot because of the secret affair he discovers she had with Mark, who is now right under his nose. A character must act for a reason. Perhaps they have witnessed something shocking, or need to borrow money after losing a job, and must turn to a parent without appearing to be a failure. My attempt seems obvious; he’s just killed a fairy by accident, but why? If he hasn’t believed in fairies his whole life, why is this the first to die? Are they in a new house near fairies? Or, has he had the time to play along with his daughter’s ideas until a new project at work stole his attention, repressing his imagination to the point that he no longer played along with her beliefs?

3. Who is your character speaking to?

You might have already done this when considering your character’s basic action, but you need to know who your character is speaking to. It could be a radio show, a board-room meeting, or an alien communicating with the mother-ship. It could be anything, so long as one character is doing something to another. In my example, I could put someone in the room with him, such as his daughter, and have him conceal the truth and make up excuses on the spot, or it could be him telling a friend about the situation. In the latter example, he needs to be doing something other than telling. Perhaps his daughter came in and he made out he’d spilt an art and craft kit, and allowed her to use the glitter/fairy entrails to finish the birthday card she’d started to make her fairy friend, and Dad is now struggling to justify his actions to a friend, trying to make out that he was protecting her from a painful truth.

I recently heard a great monologue on a radio play called, The Interrogation, which started with a husband telling the story of how he lost the trust of his wife after an accident hurt his child, and how he now felt like a stranger in his own home. What made it work was how it revealed the husbands violent outbursts towards his wife and how he didn’t want to admit he was a bad man.

1. Is your central character doing something to someone? His basic action was to justify his violence to the audience and himself.

2. Why is your character saying it now? His estrangement had bubbled to the point of him striking his wife.

3. Who is your character speaking to? This was a little vague, though I could imagine he was talking to a friend, or perhaps this is the argument he later tells the police.

These three steps have already given me an idea on how to rewrite my monologue. It’s all very new to me, but underneath are the same principles of storytelling, though this form seems more about how the words themselves are actions; tools in your characters’ arsenal to get what they want. Hopefully, practice with the characters I’m currently writing will not only reveal more about them, but hone my dialogue skills as well.

You can find out more about Angela Street and her writing workshops on her website.

Subscribe to Radio 4’s Drama of the Week to listen to future episodes.

How to Turn-Out Your Creativity like a Wardrobe

When was the last time you had a turn-out? If you’re anything like me, it’s been a while; five years of bills and receipts, CDs I once enjoyed, and photos and bric-a-brac of memories long since passed. It was liberating to clear out the clutter, lending to clear thought and concentration, leading me to wonder if the same could be done with creative ideas.

My turn-out was inspired in part by Julia Cameron’s book, The Prosperous Heart, which views prosperity not as money but as self-worth, and hopes to free readers of anxiety and increase the flow of creativity into their lives. “Clearing away the rubble makes for clear thoughts,” she says in chapter four, and such was my experience.

I was meant to be packing up my room for moving, but instead filled several bin-bags with paperwork and boxes of CDs to sell. It didn’t stop there though. I unsubscribed from several newsletters and emails that I never read, and tossed out old magazines. It was nice to feel clarity returning as I filed away my neatly closed folder of documents into my tidy drawer.

Memories and bric-a-brac were the worst, such as old photos of out of touch friends from school, and old receipts, badges and tickets. I threw it all out, save a few key cards from big events and photos from treasured family holidays. What was scary was how those items brought back the same memories, feelings and emotions as when I’d first filed them away, although now I’d changed and the memories no longer fit. I found a ring once given to a past girlfriend, and could remember the same love I’d felt, which now seemed naïve and wrong. From out of sight, energy remains, and stops new energy flowing into your life, energy you may need, so it’s good to throw out these things, like old clothes you no longer like to wear.

The experience reminded me of something I’d read in The Wind is My Mother, a book by Native American Medicine Man, Bear Heart. He spoke of the vision quest, a venture into wilderness to communicate with a higher being. His questers fasted for up to four days in the wild, which allowed them to become vessels, empty of daily requirements and thought to allow communication to flow through them. I re-read this and thought about my turn-out, how I was now free of clutter and open to receive.

I’m not saying we need to go without daily requirements or possessions to be creative (and stress Bear Heart’s warnings that these quests are only done with an experienced sponsor) but look at how freeing ourselves of clutter, filling our lives with only that which we enjoy, and how, for example, clearing out junk emails and staying on top of our finances can leave us with a clearer, freer mind, hopefully allowing creativity to flow more easily though us.

I also believe you can turn-out your creativity, much like a cupboard or a wardrobe, and discard those ideas and projects that no longer fit or excite. I really wanted to crack on with another project after my masters, and filled my head with ideas for feature films, shorts and plays. My insecurity over writing my next big thing led me to become so clogged with story threads that I couldn’t concentrate on a single one.

I wrote down my ideas in a word document, taking them from brain to paper, freeing me of the burden of carrying them. I then went through and asked of each story what it was really about. Several seemed to be about the same thing, so I collated those ideas into a single idea that expressed what I wanted to say. Some seemed to best relate to old projects that still needed work, so I decided rather than write something new, I’d revisit a past project.

I also asked why I want to write this story. What excites me about it, and if nothing, out it went. I also asked if the idea was practical, if the characters and motivations were believable, and some I found didn’t really fit together, and so I cast those aside too. In the end, I had a much shorter list, but of ideas that I could honestly say I wanted to work on.

Clearing our environment of junk to allow clear thinking, allowing ourselves to become a vessel for creativity to flow through us, and organising our creative ideas to stop us being weighed down and unable to write have been the focus of this post. If you’ve been at all clogged or unfocused, perhaps some of this could apply to you. If so, take a breath, relax, turn-out unwanted possessions and ideas, and take baby-steps each day towards your goal.

If anything, I hope this advice will guide you to a freer and happier existence, and open doors to fresh energies and experiences, as I hope to bring into my renewed, creative life.

Click the following link to check out Julia Cameron's, The Prosperous Heart.

And here for more information on Bear Heart's book, The Wind is My Mother.

My Season Inspired Sonnet; Summer's End

I'd already started writing a poem before I read John Keats, To Autumn, a poem that paints a majestic picture of a season, and used a similar personification of nature to write my finished piece.

I started out with the last two lines, which I thought made a profound statement that could be used as the final couplet in a sonnet, which ends like a good story with a clear expression of theme. The rest came from lots of scribbles in my A4 notebook, a good size for writing poetry as it gives you lots of space to play around with different rhymes alongside the poem and cross-out and start over several times.

Below, I've linked to Keats' poem and a walk in Winchester which supposedly gave him inspiration; I'll be taking that walk later this week as part of my travel and hiking blog. For now, if you can spare a few minutes, let me know what you think of my poem in the comments section below.
 

Summer's End

I know, with misty breath and empty sky,
That creatures will have flocked or taken sleep,
And from my frosted window, wonder why
Our summer fun must fade and turn life bleak.
Creeping its glimmering decay, a snail
Like frost eats autumn’s crunch, replacing lake
Side laughter with a howling empty gale
That strips the trees till neither ash nor oak.
Then, the first flake weaves onto skin like silk,
And stepping-stones of crystal spread the pond,
And townsfolk, snowball playing, skate the milk
With knowing hope, a dance till winter’s end,
For trees that lose their colour
Return full bloom in summer.


Click here for a link to Keats' poem, and here for a guide to Keats' walk in Winchester.