The Shot
I often think of writing in film terms. I don't have outlines, I have story arcs. I don't do character sketches, I have "back stories." And this week, I learned a valuable lesson about going wide.
What do I mean? You know in movies where you have a camera shot--and it's narrow and focused Maybe it's the main character seeing a dead body. And then the shot goes wide or pulls back and becomes a more panaramic view--and now the viewer realizes the dead body is just one of thousands upon thousands in The Killing Fields.
I learned something this week in one of my scenes, thanks to one of my critique partners. I wrote a scene in which a preacher gave a sermon and sitting in the pews is my main character, a woman who has literally never known the meaning of compassion in a religious sense. The sermon is an OK one. My preacher is ninety-two, and he's basically conveying that God knows what you want to pray about before you ever pray it--but still likes the conversation. And in a small shot, a small sense, it's a perfectly servicable sermon.
But my CP told me that I missed the boat entirely. The scene failed because I missed the opportunity to go wide with it--to use the sermon to basically offer up a larger thematic scene in which the entire story arc of my character and the theme of redemption is explored. I missed a chance to, as he put it, "lay out the entire book" in the subtext of the sermon.
And I had one of those "A-ha" moments. Man, did I. I was keeping it small and missing the opportunity to go wide, to take the vision to a panoramic place in terms of themes.
Sometimes, it can seem like a scene is just moving the plot along--but embedded in each scene is the opportunity to go deeper, go wider, to explore the landscape of the novel as a whole.
My daughter can't believe novelists really think about the symbolism, the actual point of view or the "shot" or written camera angle, if you will, of what we write about. But to me, all this is digging deeper.
Thoughts?
What do I mean? You know in movies where you have a camera shot--and it's narrow and focused Maybe it's the main character seeing a dead body. And then the shot goes wide or pulls back and becomes a more panaramic view--and now the viewer realizes the dead body is just one of thousands upon thousands in The Killing Fields.
I learned something this week in one of my scenes, thanks to one of my critique partners. I wrote a scene in which a preacher gave a sermon and sitting in the pews is my main character, a woman who has literally never known the meaning of compassion in a religious sense. The sermon is an OK one. My preacher is ninety-two, and he's basically conveying that God knows what you want to pray about before you ever pray it--but still likes the conversation. And in a small shot, a small sense, it's a perfectly servicable sermon.
But my CP told me that I missed the boat entirely. The scene failed because I missed the opportunity to go wide with it--to use the sermon to basically offer up a larger thematic scene in which the entire story arc of my character and the theme of redemption is explored. I missed a chance to, as he put it, "lay out the entire book" in the subtext of the sermon.
And I had one of those "A-ha" moments. Man, did I. I was keeping it small and missing the opportunity to go wide, to take the vision to a panoramic place in terms of themes.
Sometimes, it can seem like a scene is just moving the plot along--but embedded in each scene is the opportunity to go deeper, go wider, to explore the landscape of the novel as a whole.
My daughter can't believe novelists really think about the symbolism, the actual point of view or the "shot" or written camera angle, if you will, of what we write about. But to me, all this is digging deeper.
Thoughts?
Labels: digging deeper, POV
posted by Erica Orloff at 8:52 AM
17 Comments:
I spent yesterday in bed, dozing on and off. It was great, because I had an epiphany, too! It was more finding layers to wrap in and tie up and make the plot tighter, but I need to narrow my theme.
I think I'm scared of symbolism, LOL. Using the sermon as you describe? I'd be scared to do it, scared it would be too obvious and pedantic (I'm sure yours isn't!). I really have to start thinking about this more.
Hi Spy:
I know how I'm going to do it . . . and by the time the reader is at the sermon, the preacher's goodness and his connection to the earth and to people--and his age at 92--all will work, I think, to make it not seem obvious. All the time when he speaks, he spouts wisdom. It's part of who he is.
E
Spy:
P.S. . . . congrats on the epiphany.
Oh, that's cool! I love him already. How do you gage how much? With symbolism, I mean? Where's the line between overdone and only-obvious-to-the-author? (Those questions don't have answers, do they?)
I think my resistance to symbolism probably started in second grade, when a teacher told me that Narnia was all just an allegory for Christianity. I was PISSED. I wanted my beloved Narnia, just as she was in my mind. Fact was, I probably would've chosen Narnia over heaven any day. Still would, as a matter of fact. :-)
I'm shooting for another light bulb moment, even if it's a seasonal decorative light twinkle.
What are you definitions of Outline vs. Story Arc and Character Sketches vs. Back Story.
I just love those A-ha moments!
Spy;
For me it's when it gets clumsy, I suppose, that I've gone too far. When I start seeing it heavy-handed in word choice . . .
However, in terms of subtle . . . I am surprised at the number of emails I get from people who have "gotten" symbolism I did intend. Even more obscure stuff. I think it also probably depends on what kind of reader you are.
E
Hi Kathy:
For me, an outline is an exploration of the entire storyline of the novel as a whole. A story arc for me is more like a piece of it--it's the overarching arc one character or the most basic of the central storyline follows--without veering into side stories. It's the arc a character takes--so for Spanish Disco, which I think you read, Cassie's story arc is taking her from cynical and untrusting and so on, through an arc of vulnerability via nearly losing all when she meets Roland Riggs, and laying her life bare. BUT, it's not Roland's arc. It's HER trajectory, her arc, her epiphany.
As for character sketches, I tend to have a lot of back story . . . and am not very "present" focused. And that's just me. So I am less likely, then, to say, "Ava [in The Roofer] is a caretaker for her brother and is x or y" and more likely to say, "After growing up in the embrace of the Irish Westies gang, Ava has seen x and y and therefore . . . ." I am more likely to focus on the core traumas of the back story rather than the outcome--because the core traumas of the back story will then affect the present. It's the ripple effect.
So that's my take on it . . . and it's just what works for me.
E
Erica, I too do more backstory than character sketches, though some friends do character stuff that's just PAGES long. Guess it's whatever works.
And I love those moments when something CLICKS.
I'm with you on the backstory for characters rather than doing the character sketch or profile. But the outline...I have a hard time letting go of that. I like knowing where I'm going. Even if it changes along the way.
As for symbolism, I've never considered it. I don't use it deliberately and I'm not really aware of it occurring by accident in my books.
I really like how you describe "going wide". I keep hearing that it needs to be up close and personal but you explain perfectly how going wide can have such an impact.
Good advice always to dig deeper in a scene, dig for deeper conflict and tension, whether it be internal or external.
That's where we have the filmmakers beat--we have language at our disposal to get into the minds of the characters.
Maybe the POV character is altogether bored with religion, and her only goal during the sermon is to stay awake. Does she achieve her goal? YES, BUT, in the meantime she is awakened to some internal conflicts that must be dealt with somewhere down the line. Now we've taken a potential slacker of a scene and broadened its scope to include something of extreme importance to the character we care about. Now we have a slingshot to propel us into the next scene, where we'll have the opportunity to ratchet the tension even tighter.
Great post, Erica.
Maureen:
I know--I love hearing about other writers' processes.
E
Hi Liz:
Maybe I'll blog on the up close tomorrow. :-)
That's another whole side to the "shot."
E
Hi Jude:
Actually, she has been so traumatized by life that she feels a sense of PTSD by the amount of love in this church. It feels invasive.
E
Jude:
And as a P.S., I think it really depends on the director and the film. There are some brilliant moments of film that are deep--and use dialogue in the same way we use prose. Or use visuals in place of our prose.
E
Good point, Erica. Different media, different techniques.
I always get a little irritated when someone says, "The book was way better than the movie." Apples and oranges, IMHO.
I always try for the subdued symbolism... nothing too over the top. I write what I would want to read, and I hate heavy-handed symbolism. If the author feels the need to out-right bludgeon you with the symbolism and metaphor then maybe they are missing something in their storytelling.
However... as I am learning from my writing group, my touch is a bit light for most. I guess my poetic voice is still too subtle for prose. When I write it the way that most of my readers "get it", I feel like I am having to TYPE IN ALL CAPS.
What I need to do is to just ease up on the voice a little. Let some tightness slip and give some of it away. Otherwise I am writing 90K words of prose poetry and that just isn't what I am after.
Do you ever feel like you have to spell it out too much?
eowh:
Feel like I have to spell it out too much? Sometimes.
But not always--depends on whether the symbolism works on its own. Here's an example from my work.
In Invisible Girl, I was pretty content with the symbolism of the "diving bell." The Jersey Shore used to have basically these submarine balls on the end of a chain on the end of a pier. You paid money, went in, the ball went under the ocean and you got to be in a submarine. But the Jersey shore tends to be murky, so you can't see a damn thing. So I had my child narrator talk about a trip to the shore with her father and her Uncle Con (short for Convict) when she was 7. All she has ever wanted to do is see the "underwater spectacle" the diving bell promises. And of course, it turns out to be too murky to see anything and she has this crushing childhood disappointment--no mermaids. No "spectacle." Just silt. Considering the entire book is about the conspiracy surrounding her mother . . . murky water is apt--but it works as a childhood memory . . . something "small" that helps you get to know this criminally inclined family.
ANYWAY, that one works for me--obvious yet done in a way that you can just take it as a story. However, I have NOT explained things in some of my books, and I have gotten reader questions . . . so for me, I am somewhat mindful this gets read by a larger audience and if I don't spell things out a LITTLE, I'm not getting to them--or I am going to end up writing back a lot of people trying to explain it. :-)
E
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