Month: February 2012

Inner Filters

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Today’s Twitter question comes from @MustardSeedRisk (a journal you can find here: http://themustardseedrisk.com/) reading:

“@JessicaDall Q: What is the best mindset to avoid ‘filtering’?”

Now, there are a couple of different ways filtering can be used when talking about writing. First, there’s the idea of your character filtering everything that’s happening before it gets to the reader, which of course makes for slow (most of the time weak) writing, for example:

“She saw the ball falling through the air. She heard the window shatter…”

Rather than:

“The ball fell through the air. The window shattered…”

Since MustardSeedRisk asked about mindset, however, I’m going to venture to guess that they’re asking about inner filters, or feeling the need to filter yourself before you even actually write a scene, character, or entire story for one reason or another.

There are plenty of reasons to feel the need to filter your writing. You might not feel comfortable writing certain sorts of scenes; something might feel too personal to put out there, or you might be much too aware that if you get this [novel/short story/play/etc.] published/produced you’re going to have your sweet conservative grandmother reading/seeing it. With how personal writing can be, it makes complete sense that it isn’t always the most comfortable idea, writing those things down when you’re intending for other people to read it.

Now, inner filters are not always a bad thing. In the same way having a filter when out with people can keep you from losing friends, some level of filter keeps a controversial book from just being insulting. Filters become bad, however, when they keep you from actually writing a story that could be great if you could just get yourself to put it on paper.

So how can you get past those filters? Everyone has their own way of breaking through, but I can offer some suggestions.

1. Decide if the scene/character is actually necessary: Of course, this only works when it’s a part of a story that’s keeping you from writing, not the story itself, but if you have a half-finished story sitting somewhere lost on your computer or in notebooks and you just can’t finish it because it’s gotten to a point where you aren’t comfortable writing it, figure out if the scene/character you’re avoiding is actually needed. For example, my reference to Sexy Discretion Shots earlier. I’ve never written erotica, and I’m not especially comfortable writing in-depth sex scenes, so there’s no reason for me to stop writing just because I’ve come to a place where a sex scene might be called for. Just like there’s no need to put a random sex scene in a story that doesn’t call for it, there’s no need to be graphic about what’s happening if you don’t want to be. After all, if you aren’t comfortable writing about it, it probably isn’t going to be very good anyway. It’s possible to do the lead up then “fade to black” coming back in after a scene you aren’t comfortable with ends. Aren’t comfortable about having a character tortured? If it isn’t absolutely necessary, jump it. Aren’t comfortable with the language a character uses? If it isn’t necessary, cut it. Simple as that.

2. Pretend you’re only writing for yourself: Ok, you’ve looked back, and it’s completely necessary for your character to swear up a storm based on how you’ve characterized him. You’re ok with that, but you don’t want your friends/parents/children/etc. to know that you even know those words. Pretend, at least for the time being, that you’re only writing for yourself. Your eventual plan may be to publish, but for now, it’s just you and the paper. Just because something’s written doesn’t mean it has to be read. I have written stories that I only finished because I didn’t actually consider other people reading them. It was only after going back and rereading and editing that I even considered the possibility of it getting out there. If you are able to write something without worrying about other people seeing it, you’ll be able to finish the story before thinking about things you might want to change. And it’s possible at that point you won’t want to change it any more.

3. Remember you can always use a pen name: This goes back to the earlier point, if you’re filtering yourself because you have the fear of someone else reading it, you can always publish under a pseudonym. Tell those you don’t mind reading it the name, for everyone else, it can just be a book by John Doe. It’s completely under your control.

4. Have someone else look over it: Sometimes filtering comes from worrying about doing a touchy topic incorrectly more than having someone read the story in general. Perhaps you’re filtering out a character who you originally imagined as bisexual because you don’t want to be insulting, or someone with autism since all you know about that is from Rainman. That sort of filter can be good in some ways. There are certain things that people far to often over do. Just because a character is homosexual does not mean that he thinks, “Girlfriend, those shoes are fabulous,” or she only wants to wear flannel. Just because a character is clinically depressed doesn’t mean that they are automatically goth and just because a character is goth doesn’t mean they’re clinically depressed. If you aren’t comfortable with writing a character because they are X or have Y, it doesn’t mean you should completely filter yourself, it means you should have someone help you with that character. As a whole, people who are attempting to filter certain controversial topics , and push through anyway, are much more likely to end up with insulting characters since that unfilterable thing becomes all that character is. A person with a disorder isn’t their disorder, someone’s sexuality only affects with whom they have sex. If you feel a filter is affecting how you can write a character who is X or has Y, find someone to talk to and pick their brain before forcing yourself forward. Once you’re more comfortable with the topic, the filter should become less of a problem.

5. Ask yourself if this is something you really want to write: So you’ve done everything else. You’ve talked to someone with X and know how to not be insulting, you’ve determined this scene is completely necessary to the plot, you’re writing for yourself so you don’t have to worry about what other people think, and…You’re still filtering yourself. And it’s really hurting the story. At this point, you really just have to ask if this is a story you are ready and willing to write. Perhaps it’s a great story, it just isn’t something you’re comfortable with. Decide if it might not be better to just put it aside. It doesn’t have to be forever, just until you’re more comfortable with it. After all, not being comfortable with your own story and characters just makes everything sound forced anyway. You won’t have a great story if everything you write sounds forced and stilted, no matter how amazing and timely the plot. Sometimes forcing writing just isn’t worth it.

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A Wizard Did It

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Happy February, everyone. To start off this month, we have part two of Tia Kalla’s question. For those who haven’t read yesterday’s post, Tia (@tiakall) tweeted me the question:

“@JessicaDall Any good advice for plothole/ending problem solving?”

Since we ended January talking about plot holes, today we’ll be talking about tricky endings.

Now, I completely understand why Tia grouped these two concepts into one question. Where plot holes are a problem with something integral to the story, ending problems are just what they sound like…problems when you get to the all important climax and conclusion (or denouement, if you want to be fancy) of your story.

Unlike a plot hole, where you have a character/situation that doesn’t make sense or is in someway against the rules of your universe/personality of your character, what you generally find with ending problems are that you’ve written the rest of the story in a way that makes it so you can’t find a way to solve the problem you have spent the entire story building up.

For example, your Main Character is caught in the Big Baddy’s secret hideout with all his/her friends locked up and no way out. Now, if your Main Character is James Bond, they’ll figure out some crazy escape that works. Far too often, though, authors find themselves flailing trying to figure out just how they’re going to write their way out of the mess they’ve gotten themselves into.

And this is where you have to be careful not to fall into the most dreaded ending fix. The Deus Ex Machina.

What, you ask, is a Deus Ex Machina? A latin phrase that translates to something like “God out of the machine” my dear friend Wikipedia defines it “as  a plot device whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem is suddenly and abruptly solved with the contrived and unexpected intervention of some new event, character, ability, or object.”

From what I remember of Drama 101 in college, Deus Ex Machinas (yeah, yeah dei ex machina, but Latin plurals are crazy) abound in the Ancient Greek Playwright, Euripides’, plays, such as an example in the play Medea, where perhaps the original “hell hath no fury” woman has slaughtered her infant sons in revenge for her husband, Jason (of Argonaut fame) leaving her for another woman. Children freshly killed, Jason comes to punish (read: kill) Medea for her crime and has her there, just about as defenseless as possible, dead sons nearby, ready to pop her head off. Escape seems impossible for poor (read: completely insane) Medea, so how is Euripides going to write himself out of this? Is he going to let her die?

Spoiler Alert: No, that would just be completely understandable for the plot. He wants Medea to live. And so the chariot of the Sun God, Helios, comes down on stage (by mechanical means) and pulls her out of her predicament. Quite literally, a God in a machine saving Medea and solving Euripides’ plot problem.

Now, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen a modern-day book which uses Deus Ex Machina quite so literally as Euripides (does anyone have an example of God coming down in a chariot and fixing everything at the last minute?) but that doesn’t mean that seemingly unsolvable problems aren’t “suddenly and abruptly solved with the contrived and unexpected intervention of some new event, character, ability, or object” in modern-day works.

Perhaps the most blatant of these moments are in situations where one of the main characters “suddenly” finds out that they had some power that has long been dormant that they only find out about just as everything seems hopeless. Often times this is found in stories with “Mary Sue” characters. Though Mary Sues are a controversial and a poorly defined occurence in fiction (which I’ll get into at some point in a later blog post) the overly-idealized Sueish character often find some magical way to save the day when all seems lost because of their perfect selves.

Like one of the suggestions for fixing plot holes in yesterday’s post stated, you should not to throw in things that are going to be important to the plot too late in. If you’re going to have something that is important come in later, try to touch on it before that exact point where it’s needed. Even if it isn’t a fix-all, knowing that the main character has the ability to jump tall buildings in a single bound when threatened is better than having it just suddenly happen at the climax of the story.

And that’s what makes Deus Ex Machinas so annoying. They feel like a cop out. You’ve spent however long reading a novel, or sat for however long in a theatre, have invested yourself in the plot and story, and just when you’re supposed to get the pay off – see how it all comes together – you find that there’s a proverbial “get out of jail free” card that makes the rest of the story not mean much. If the main character could have used their super-awesome teleporting skills right at the beginning, you wouldn’t have needed the entire middle of the story where they’re struggling through. So why did you have to read that part at all? If the wizard could have sent out that spell that just traveled halfway around the world to kill the Big Baddy, why the heck didn’t he?

So how do you avoid a Deus Ex Machina situation?

Like other general plot holes, it can help to outline before hand, or put in something that makes it so they aren’t saved at the possible last second by something that makes the rest of the book useless… But, truly, the most important thing in avoiding Deus Ex Machina is to spend some time thinking about your characters, thinking about how they would react to any given situation (when they don’t have a hope of lightning striking down the Big Baddy, or God dropping down), and not to worry about making your story “more exciting” by building up the danger they’re facing to the point where there’s simply no way they can get out of it without said lightening bolt from the heavens. Even with a little less danger, if you’re able to stay within the logic of your story, and have your characters stay, well, in character, it’s going to be a much more interesting, much better story than it would be by saving them by something out of nowhere that leaves the reader wondering what the point was if that’s the end.

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