by Jason Joyner | Aug 14, 2007 | Blog, fiction, reading, writing craft
So I sit at my keyboard and pretend I’m an author. I sometimes have time to write, and even then I don’t always get a lot of writing done. It is so much easier to visit blogs (see last post) than to be pounding out meaningful words.
However, in my thought life I have a whole story bandying about, working itself over and over through the details. I think Randy Ingermanson is the one who called this composting. In my mind I see my main character in her journeys, struggling to cope with all the conflict that I’m (hopefully) throwing at her to make life interesting for her. I really do have a lot, if not most of the book in my head ready to make the leap to paper, if only my brain wasn’t so clumsy at getting my words right.
When you’ve spent a lot of time with someone, and you think you know them, you want to stick up for them. Well, what happens if someone doesn’t see things the way you do?
I recently had a friend read a few chapters of my work in progress. She very thoughtfully gave some feedback, and it was greatly appreciated. I asked her about characterization, and she gave her opinion.
She had a different viewpoint of my protagonist than what was bouncing around in my head.
How did that happen? That’s not supposed to happen, right? The author is in full control of the process, and the end result should be predictable.
The answer to the last statement is no, for two reasons.
I’m not going to go into #1, which is the characters need to speak for themselves. I’ll just share, like many other writers will tell you, that sometimes the characters will rebel over what you as the author had planned, and demand their own way. Y’all can chuckle about my psychiatric health if you want, but it’s true.
Number 2 would be that everyone is going to see things in their own way. I don’t fully agree with Obi-Wan Kenobi’s statement to Luke Skywalker in Return of the Jedi that things depend on “a certain point of view”. That smacks of relativism. But when it comes to reading, all the author can do is prevent their vision of a story, a character, or whatever. That is only half of the story.
The other half is how the reader interprets things. I can’t be in control of that. Not unless I want to write a very boring story that spells out every little nuance I want for the tale.
It makes you feel vulnerable as a writer, almost exposed when you put yourself out there like that. I had Jenna Dawson wrapped up in my comfortable little mental movie, but in real life she may play differently.
Some of this does come from my skill as a writer. I know that I can do a better job in bringing out what is in my head. Thus the blogging and reading so much: to grow as a writer in understanding and ability. Hopefully when I have the time to put fingers to keyboard I’ll be farther along.
It’s just interesting having something like this exposed.
by Jason Joyner | Aug 14, 2007 | Blog, fiction, reading, writing craft
So I sit at my keyboard and pretend I’m an author. I sometimes have time to write, and even then I don’t always get a lot of writing done. It is so much easier to visit blogs (see last post) than to be pounding out meaningful words.
However, in my thought life I have a whole story bandying about, working itself over and over through the details. I think Randy Ingermanson is the one who called this composting. In my mind I see my main character in her journeys, struggling to cope with all the conflict that I’m (hopefully) throwing at her to make life interesting for her. I really do have a lot, if not most of the book in my head ready to make the leap to paper, if only my brain wasn’t so clumsy at getting my words right.
When you’ve spent a lot of time with someone, and you think you know them, you want to stick up for them. Well, what happens if someone doesn’t see things the way you do?
I recently had a friend read a few chapters of my work in progress. She very thoughtfully gave some feedback, and it was greatly appreciated. I asked her about characterization, and she gave her opinion.
She had a different viewpoint of my protagonist than what was bouncing around in my head.
How did that happen? That’s not supposed to happen, right? The author is in full control of the process, and the end result should be predictable.
The answer to the last statement is no, for two reasons.
I’m not going to go into #1, which is the characters need to speak for themselves. I’ll just share, like many other writers will tell you, that sometimes the characters will rebel over what you as the author had planned, and demand their own way. Y’all can chuckle about my psychiatric health if you want, but it’s true.
Number 2 would be that everyone is going to see things in their own way. I don’t fully agree with Obi-Wan Kenobi’s statement to Luke Skywalker in Return of the Jedi that things depend on “a certain point of view”. That smacks of relativism. But when it comes to reading, all the author can do is prevent their vision of a story, a character, or whatever. That is only half of the story.
The other half is how the reader interprets things. I can’t be in control of that. Not unless I want to write a very boring story that spells out every little nuance I want for the tale.
It makes you feel vulnerable as a writer, almost exposed when you put yourself out there like that. I had Jenna Dawson wrapped up in my comfortable little mental movie, but in real life she may play differently.
Some of this does come from my skill as a writer. I know that I can do a better job in bringing out what is in my head. Thus the blogging and reading so much: to grow as a writer in understanding and ability. Hopefully when I have the time to put fingers to keyboard I’ll be farther along.
It’s just interesting having something like this exposed.
by Jason Joyner | Jul 10, 2007 | Blog, movies, Pixar, reviews, writing craft
The first thing I am going to say about the movie Ratatouille is this: don’t take your kids. Serious. That way you can enjoy one of the best story-tellers in movies today without having to worry about popcorn, drinks, potty breaks, or other assorted kid things.
Okay, you can take the kids. They’ll enjoy the cute rat and his kitchen antics. However, they won’t come close to appreciating the delicious tapestry that Brad Bird and company creates for our viewing pleasure (and my mixed metaphor pleasure…). In my opinion, there is no better filmmaker today, and he happens to work for the best movie company in Pixar. Yes, I loved The Incredibles, also written and directed by Mr. Bird. I have also heard wonderful things about his movie The Iron Giant, which I have yet to see.
Enough gushing. The thing is, if a writer can take the concept of a rat in a kitchen (my mother-in-law is still having trouble wrapping her head around that) and make it entertaining, endearing, and overall believable, then you have a real talent. Remy is a country rat in France who has a nose and taste for the good things in life, related to food. His family is not so picky, and it causes a lot of tension for Remy. It seems he has been sneaking into a house to watch a cooking show by the famous Parisian chef Gusteau and has been learning the fine points of cuisine.
After an incident that sweeps him through the sewers to Paris, he ends up in the kitchen of Gusteau’s restaurant. The restaurant is struggling after the great chef’s untimely demise, and is being run by a charlatan more interested in making cheap frozen foods using Gusteau’s name. Remy stumbles across the new garbage boy, and after fixing a soup that the boy, Linguini, had messed up, is linked with the boy in finding their destiny together.
Linguini is hired as a chef but can’t cook beans. Remy ends up riding under his hat and controls him by pulling hair like levers to mastermind a renaissance in the kitchen. But this cannot be blissful: tension arises from Remy’s lost family, the paranoid head chef, and an icy food critic.
The lesson applicable to writers that read this (and hopefully all of Hollywood can catch it as well) is the insistance Pixar has of making the story first, rather than the other trappings. Remy is a fully realized character. He is nuanced, conflicted, and vunerable. The interaction of Linguini and his rat savior is very touching. The movie plays the heart strings gently and keeps you engaged despite the clamoring of the younger set.
Not that the movie is all character development. The visuals keep improving with time, and Pixar shows off a rat’s fur when wet or impacted by…static electricity. There are times when Remy’s animal behaviors (sniffing, fearing humans or danger) are so lifelike despite his cartoonish image. The zany things Linguini does while controlled by Remy are eye-popping. The story has plenty of action and conflict to keep the pace moving. Even The Incredibles slows for a little while, but I didn’t catch any of that with Ratatouille.
I’ve enjoyed Spiderman 3, watched Pirates 3, and suffered through Fantastic Four: Rise of the Poor Screenplay. None of them compare to the joy that is Ratatouille. Those of us in the creative community need to speak with the only language Hollywood understands: our dollars. If you value creative and compelling storytelling, go see Ratatouille. You’ll also have a great time!
by Jason Joyner | Jul 10, 2007 | Blog, movies, Pixar, reviews, writing craft
The first thing I am going to say about the movie Ratatouille is this: don’t take your kids. Serious. That way you can enjoy one of the best story-tellers in movies today without having to worry about popcorn, drinks, potty breaks, or other assorted kid things.
Okay, you can take the kids. They’ll enjoy the cute rat and his kitchen antics. However, they won’t come close to appreciating the delicious tapestry that Brad Bird and company creates for our viewing pleasure (and my mixed metaphor pleasure…). In my opinion, there is no better filmmaker today, and he happens to work for the best movie company in Pixar. Yes, I loved The Incredibles, also written and directed by Mr. Bird. I have also heard wonderful things about his movie The Iron Giant, which I have yet to see.
Enough gushing. The thing is, if a writer can take the concept of a rat in a kitchen (my mother-in-law is still having trouble wrapping her head around that) and make it entertaining, endearing, and overall believable, then you have a real talent. Remy is a country rat in France who has a nose and taste for the good things in life, related to food. His family is not so picky, and it causes a lot of tension for Remy. It seems he has been sneaking into a house to watch a cooking show by the famous Parisian chef Gusteau and has been learning the fine points of cuisine.
After an incident that sweeps him through the sewers to Paris, he ends up in the kitchen of Gusteau’s restaurant. The restaurant is struggling after the great chef’s untimely demise, and is being run by a charlatan more interested in making cheap frozen foods using Gusteau’s name. Remy stumbles across the new garbage boy, and after fixing a soup that the boy, Linguini, had messed up, is linked with the boy in finding their destiny together.
Linguini is hired as a chef but can’t cook beans. Remy ends up riding under his hat and controls him by pulling hair like levers to mastermind a renaissance in the kitchen. But this cannot be blissful: tension arises from Remy’s lost family, the paranoid head chef, and an icy food critic.
The lesson applicable to writers that read this (and hopefully all of Hollywood can catch it as well) is the insistance Pixar has of making the story first, rather than the other trappings. Remy is a fully realized character. He is nuanced, conflicted, and vunerable. The interaction of Linguini and his rat savior is very touching. The movie plays the heart strings gently and keeps you engaged despite the clamoring of the younger set.
Not that the movie is all character development. The visuals keep improving with time, and Pixar shows off a rat’s fur when wet or impacted by…static electricity. There are times when Remy’s animal behaviors (sniffing, fearing humans or danger) are so lifelike despite his cartoonish image. The zany things Linguini does while controlled by Remy are eye-popping. The story has plenty of action and conflict to keep the pace moving. Even The Incredibles slows for a little while, but I didn’t catch any of that with Ratatouille.
I’ve enjoyed Spiderman 3, watched Pirates 3, and suffered through Fantastic Four: Rise of the Poor Screenplay. None of them compare to the joy that is Ratatouille. Those of us in the creative community need to speak with the only language Hollywood understands: our dollars. If you value creative and compelling storytelling, go see Ratatouille. You’ll also have a great time!
by Jason Joyner | Jun 27, 2007 | Blog, fiction, writing craft
I didn’t realize when I started this journey that there are hazards involved. Sure, I could expect a few brave writers would be taken down by a cruel attack of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. Others might succumb to Writer’s Cramp. Paper cuts can be pretty vicious in the right setting, mind you.
Undaunted, I proceeded. Unaware of the dangers awaiting me as I pursued this craft. Alas, I have fallen into this trap, and I am not sure how to free myself from its grip.
I’ve become a critical reader.
It seems that honing my craft has trained my eye for certain things to look for in a book. I do it unconsciously. I’m looking for active verbs, strong adjectives, and tired cliches. I analyze what I am trying to enjoy. I think it is a natural process-handymen usually start out by taking things apart to figure out how they are built. Novels operate under a similar pattern.
Before I tried to understand writing, I wouldn’t recognize a change in POV if you hit me with it (I wouldn’t even know what a POV was). The author could head-hop and hip-hop for all I cared.
Now I’m reading an otherwise really good book, but the POV changes in each new paragraph keep pulling me out of the fictive world the author is trying to portray. I have to stop and figure out where I am: “What? I thought it was Suzy who was the POV character. Now it is Joe.”
I’m really not trying to be so picky. It is operating under the hood anymore. I read, and I critique.
“Oh, that works.”
“What were they thinking?”
“Brilliant!”
Thinking back, there were sage writers who warned of this pitfall. Your reading may not be the same, they said. Ah, how I wish I could go back to the innocence of reading a bad novel and not knowing it…
On the other hand, I don’t think so-but be warned, you who strive to write. This fate could befall you as well!
by Jason Joyner | Jun 27, 2007 | Blog, fiction, writing craft
I didn’t realize when I started this journey that there are hazards involved. Sure, I could expect a few brave writers would be taken down by a cruel attack of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. Others might succumb to Writer’s Cramp. Paper cuts can be pretty vicious in the right setting, mind you.
Undaunted, I proceeded. Unaware of the dangers awaiting me as I pursued this craft. Alas, I have fallen into this trap, and I am not sure how to free myself from its grip.
I’ve become a critical reader.
It seems that honing my craft has trained my eye for certain things to look for in a book. I do it unconsciously. I’m looking for active verbs, strong adjectives, and tired cliches. I analyze what I am trying to enjoy. I think it is a natural process-handymen usually start out by taking things apart to figure out how they are built. Novels operate under a similar pattern.
Before I tried to understand writing, I wouldn’t recognize a change in POV if you hit me with it (I wouldn’t even know what a POV was). The author could head-hop and hip-hop for all I cared.
Now I’m reading an otherwise really good book, but the POV changes in each new paragraph keep pulling me out of the fictive world the author is trying to portray. I have to stop and figure out where I am: “What? I thought it was Suzy who was the POV character. Now it is Joe.”
I’m really not trying to be so picky. It is operating under the hood anymore. I read, and I critique.
“Oh, that works.”
“What were they thinking?”
“Brilliant!”
Thinking back, there were sage writers who warned of this pitfall. Your reading may not be the same, they said. Ah, how I wish I could go back to the innocence of reading a bad novel and not knowing it…
On the other hand, I don’t think so-but be warned, you who strive to write. This fate could befall you as well!
