mbarker: (Burp)
[personal profile] mbarker
 Original Posting May 18, 2018

Writer's Digest,  May 1990, had an article by Stanley Schmidt with the title, "Staging" Your Fiction. The subtitle reads, "A fiction writer and editor explains a technique for writing sharply written stories -- imagine them as works on a stage, and then write them down." Sounds pretty simple, doesn't it?

Stanley starts by pointing out that writers often are verbally oriented. However, many of their readers are less so. Frankly, readers mostly are not buying a novel or short story to admire clever phrases, they want to "experience vicariously something they cannot experience directly." What you're trying to do is make them forget that they are reading, and give them the illusion of being there. That's what "Show, don't tell" really means.

Stanley says that "I found that the most important key to making a reader see a scene vividly is that the author must see it clearly to be able to convey the illusion to someone else." Then he says that the best advice he can give is "Try rewriting it as a play."

Telling instead of showing really consists of several different kinds of faults. Describing character rather than showing it through dialogue and action, directly disclosing thoughts of non-viewpoint characters, summarizing dialogue as indirect discourse instead of quoting it directly, and speaking in generalities instead of specifics. All of these distance readers from the scene, and reduce the illusion that you are there.

However, in a play, you can't do these things. Nobody on stage tells you what kind of people the characters are. You watch them and see what they do and listen to what they say. So if your scene has you telling too much instead of showing it, recast the scene as a play, and you'll find you have to solve the problems. Then translate that back into a story.

Stanley gives an example of a hypothetical badly-written story. I'm not going to transcribe that here, but he translates a scene into a play. and then back into a story. It's a pretty cool exercise or discipline. Go ahead, take a scene that you have written,  and rewrite it as a scene in a play.  A few parenthetical descriptions of the setting and characters, an occasional parenthetical direction for action, but mostly, dialogue, dialogue, dialogue! Then take that and convert it back into a story. See what happens.

For extra points, Stanley suggests something that an actor and playwright friend suggested.  Don't just write it as a play,  write it as a play "without parenthetical instructions to the actors on how to say their lines." Wow!

There is a sidebar on this article. Basically, Stanley points out some of the differences between a play and a story. For example, readers can't see the stage, so you have to create it in their minds. Be aware that we have been talking about seeing, but you really want perceiving and experiencing. Good writers often consciously try to include three or more senses. You need to give the reader a picture, suitable as a setting for the action, and just enough for verisimilitude.

Okay, go for it.  Scenes into plays into stories! Show us what's happening on the stage in your mind. Make us one of the players!

Write!
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 8 May 2009

Writers' Digest, October 2004, pages 26 to 33, has a collection of short "nuggets of wisdom" related to getting published. Maria Schneider is the author of the compilation. Take a deep breath, and here we go:
"The author, through her characters, must speak to her readers human to human, with all the tears and joy real people experience." G. Miki Hayden
All the world's a stage... and the writer has more than one character to set on their stage! What do you think -- do you think about writing as a dialogue, as talking to your readers, as helping them see and feel tears and joy, up close and personal?

It's only a paper moon? But it sheds such a nice light on our affairs?
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
original posting 24 May 2008

Make a Scene by Jordan Rosenfeld

(We're making a scene, checking it twice, gonna find out who's naughty and nice . . .)

Okay. So we got the idea that a scene consists of a launch, a middle, and a bang up ending. In part two of his book, Rosenfeld looks at some of the ingredients or core elements that we use to put that together. The setting, senses, character development and motivation, plot, subtext, dramatic tension, and scene intentions (interesting, Dragon NaturallySpeaking likes to make that "and tensions" or "in tensions" rather than "intentions." And there certainly is a lot of tension :-). Quite a few ingredients in the stew, so let's start chopping.

Chapter 5: Setting starts out by pointing out that unfamiliar surroundings often make us feel unsettled and overwhelmed. The writer's job is to "act as a tour guide through each scene, expertly guiding the reader to all the important details, pointing out only what is necessary and what will help the reader understand what he sees."

So even though setting is mostly there to support and contain the scene action, and in most cases will not be the star, you need to think about it carefully and help the reader feel comfortable about where this is happening. The stage for any scene is what is seen. You're going to make a world, give the reader a framework so that they can sit down and look around. Sounds like fun!

Even though the setting is just a backdrop, you need to establish the setting to keep your characters from being floating heads. You can start out with a pretty sketchy setting and then fill in the details later, but you need to make sure it is there. Big things like the general geographic location, nature, and any homes and buildings. Locations, whether next door or across the galaxy, give the reader and the writer lots of information. A setting in Florida is not the same as a setting in California! Nature and the time of year combine to create outdoor settings that can involve weather and temperature and all kinds of wonderful background. And then there are buildings and houses and homes and rooms. All the great background of civilization, from small towns to great cities.

Next, think about the setting details. What is the time in history? Is it the wacky era of the 70s? Renaissance Italy? Or the year 9595 when it isn't any too certain that Man will still be alive? What about cultural references? Down south, up north near H'va'd, or maybe out west where the coyotes play? How about in Europe, or whatever?

And then there's props or objects. The key to this is purposeful placement, making sure that every object counts or has significance. Rosenfeld suggests thinking about it as a diorama -- all you want are the essentials that are representative in your scenes. Props that bring the scene to life! But be careful, because readers tend to think that every object you mention has significance. Especially the more loving the description and details, the more likely they are to think that it must mean something. And you really don't want too many Maltese Falcons wandering around through your scenes. Some of the possibilities for things you want to include might be mood objects, showing how the narrator feels about things. Significant objects, actually call attention to themselves. These may be plot significant -- the evidence, magic rings, dogs that don't bark, or whatever -- that actually change or influence the plot. Sometimes people are looking for it, sometimes they pop up by themselves, but in one way or another they make the plot go. There are also character significant objects -- things that have sentimental or emotional meaning, lucky pieces, and so forth. You need to make sure that the reader understands how the character feels about the object. You don't need to describe the object so much, but you do need to make sure that the relationship of the character and the object is crystal clear.

One very important point about objects is to describe them in the kind of detail that your character uses. Maybe he or she drives a jalopy, but they're more likely to drive a 1955 Camino Royale (I'm not sure if that's a real car or not, but you get the idea -- not a vehicle, but a specific one!). Avoid generics, or vagueness. Stick with specifics. "Remember that great characters and the wild plot actions they undertake need solid ground and meaningful props to support them. Always ask, what needs to be seen in this scene?"

One of the dangers of setting is that you can end up with too much narrative summary. Describing the setting is the easy and even fun, but it's there to create authenticity and ground the reader for the story. It should be a background, not upstaging the characters and plot! To help you keep the balance, think about:
  • setting helps create mood or ambience as a tone for the scene
  • your protagonist needs to interact with the setting
  • the setting needs to support your plot
  • small actions help break up setting description
The last but far from least, once you've established the place, put the props in, and you've got the characters and action going, stay consistent. Moviemakers have someone whose job is to watch continuity. Make sure that the flowers at the beginning of the scene don't turn into cactus somewhere along the way. Make little diagrams of the rooms, or even of the characters as they move around. One way or another, check to make sure that your props don't appear and disappear or strangely morph into something different.

So that's where Rosenfeld starts looking at the ingredients in the scenic mix -- with the setting. I suppose in a sense, that's the cauldron that we're going to cook in (although I'm probably pushing the metaphor a bit far with that :-) In any case, we need to know where this scene is taking place, and what kind of props are occupying the stage. Or if you like, what pieces did you put into the diorama where your story will take place?

Assignment? Take a scene, any scene -- well, one from a story you like, or one from a story you are working on. Then pull out the pieces. What is the setting for this scene? How does the writer establish the geographical location, the nature or buildings where it takes place? What about the props? How do they get worked in, and what do they tell us about the plot or characters? What is the function of the setting and props in this scene -- and how well do you think they work? Suppose you want to add one more prop or take one away -- what would it be and why? How does that change the scene? What about moving the scene from over there to yonder -- what would happen?

When we write, we let other people see a setting.

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