For the
record, I give CHUCK a pass on blatant product placement because the
show completely embraces the idea of blatant product placement and, as such,
blends it in a lot better than the others.
It pretty much made Subway cool by pointing out how ridiculously un-cool
Subway is.
Anyway...
One thing
we’ve all seen is when a story veers off into unrelated, irrelevant material
for a little while. It’s as if the
writer lost track of where their story was going and it just meandered
away. We’ve all heard people say "I
let the characters guide me,” but if the characters are guiding the story off the page and into a different book, it’s probably time for the writer to pause
for a moment and reassess things.
Violet, moments before her gruesome end. |
For
example, remember in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (the book, not
the movie) there’s the whole recurring bit about how the bad kids keep messing
things up and putting their various parts where they’re not supposed to be. Eventually little Violet Beauregarde chews
some gum she shouldn’t and swells up into a giant blueberry. The other guests are horrified, Wonka sighs
in regret, and the Oompa-Loompas roll poor Violet away to a soundproofed room
where the other guests can’t hear her screams or terror and agony as the little
people gut the swollen girl and harvest her organs for the international black
market ring that the candy factory is just a front for.
You don’t
remember that bit?
It is a bit
off from the rest of Dahl’s book, isn’t it?
Tonally speaking. Probably why he
didn’t include a scene like that. If you
do remember that scene... well, you should probably talk to someone. Preferably someone who can prescribe
medication
The problem
I’m talking about is telling a story that isn’t your story. Sometimes, in the middle of a perfectly good
tale, writers will steer off into... well, something else entirely. Another few examples...
If I’m
doing a touching character piece, I shouldn’t have a ninja attack.
A post-apocalyptic thriller probably should not have a song and dance
number in the middle of it.
If I’m
writing a romantic comedy, no one should get kidnapped and harvested for their organs (a common theme to veer off into, apparently).
In a
pulse-pounding action story, no one should pause for a ten minute monologue
about how horrible it was watching their mom get worn away by cancer.
If you’ve
been reading the ranty blog for a while, you probably remember a while back
when I talked about the rules of love.
The fourth rule relates directly to this idea. Sometimes a romantic element just doesn’t fit
in a story. Maybe the people are too
different. Perhaps there’s too many
other things going on. Maybe the current
situation just doesn’t allow for those kind of thoughts.
A lot of
time when we see stuff like this, it’s a poor attempt to copy something
else. The writer’s seen an element work
in another existing story and tried to transplant it into this story,
regardless of whether or not it works.
Speaking of
black market organs, that’s a great analogy—transplants. If any of your family or friends has ever
needed blood, bone marrow, or maybe a kidney, you know it’s a big deal (and hopefully
you’re all tagged as donors). Even with
blood, which is pretty easy these days, there’s a half-dozen or so tests that
need to be run. If it’s an actual organ
transplant there’s a ton of factors that need to match up for it to be
successful, and these factors need to be determined by a professional. Even between close relatives there can be
huge differences. I can’t just toss
kidneys from one person to another and assume they’re going to work, because if
even one of those factors doesn’t match up, I’ll have two dead people on my
hands.
The same is
true of stories, too. Something that’s
creepy in your book might not be creepy in my book. Just because this joke worked when she said
it doesn’t mean it’ll work when he says it.
This story may have ended with the young couple together, but it doesn’t
mean mine can do it. If I just pull
elements from one story and stick them in another, there’s a better chance I’ll
kill the story than save it. I need to
do cross-checking and make sure all the factors line up before I do a
transplant.
What are
the important factors? Well, a big one
is whether or not the patient actually needs a transplant or not. Is there a reason to bring in this odd
element? Does it contribute to my story
in one way or another?
Past that,
it depends on what’s being transplanted, and also from what into what. Each one’s going to be different. A joke or a clever
description might not need much alteration, but pulling over a major subplot or
character could take lots of work to both the element and the story it’s going
into. That’s part of the job of being a
writer—knowing what works, what doesn’t, and what I need to do to bridge the
gap.
More to the
point, it’s my job to tell the story I’m telling. I shouldn’t be trying to tell my sci-fi story
with a bit of Stephanie Meyer tween romance twisted in. I shouldn’t be writing my dramatic screenplay
but with that fun scene from Captain America wedged into it. And it’s a bit silly to stick a cute dog in my horror short story just because all the Tintin books have one.
Know your story
and write your story. Don’t worry about
that other story.
Next time,
I’d like to babble on about a great lesson you can learn from the parents in Calvin
& Hobbes.
Until then, go write.
Until then, go write.
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