The Real Step One to Writing

[Clarity and broken things; source]

I've been blogging about how to write in a more literary fashion. This week's point is a little more basic than that. I've been saying step one to good writing is to make the reader care. To do so, you need to make a character care about something or someone--fiercely, if possible--then, show they are broken in some way, often that their heart is broken. If the character isn't broken, the world needs to be, something that needs to be fixed. At the very least, there ought to be a compelling question to move the story along. Something needs to drive the narrative, or the reader will drop out. Else where is the story? But it turns out there's something even more urgent that needs to be established. And that is a clear center of gravity. Above all, the reader needs to understand what is going on and who the characters are, so they can begin to care. 

[Chaos and Clarity; source]

I have read a few novice manuscripts in which nothing is clear. Because it's not clear, I have a hard time caring and will often drop out. It may be because the writer is trying to keep mysteries from the reader or are trying something mindbending in their manuscript, like "Loki" season 2. It tries to bend the mind so hard that the audience can't tell what's going on much of the time. "Loki" season 1 works so well because we first understand what's going on and care. Mindbending can work if the audience/reader has something onto which they can hold. It may be a character, a situation, a relationship. Something to hold onto, something to care about. But if the reader doesn't have that, it's hard to keep rule number two, which is to make the reader care. 

[Work with not against your reader with mysteries; source]

Rule numbers one and two create a firm foundation for everything to come. Mysteries in the mind of a reader can keep the pages turning if the mysteries are useful and not just to confuse. The reader wants to know you're working with them to reveal the truths of the narrative rather than against them by confusing them. If you can make the reader both understand and care, then, you can do all sorts of things with the narrative to come. Establish a character. Build that character and their world to a convincing and believable degree. Show the character's normal world, the relationships that show why they should care. It helps to show loss and pain but only if they matter, if they affect the character on a deeper-than-surface level. Basically, start in a place that makes sense and helps the reader invest in the character(s) and their world. 

[Hamlet; source] 

Only after you invest the time in your character and their world, enough to get the reader invested, can you take them where you want them to go. Hamlet's mind games with he court and particularly his uncle/stepfather work only if you understand what's really going on in his mind first, the way his father died and why that matters to Hamlet. You need to understand what's really going on to understand what comes next. Movies like "Across the Spiderverse" or "Inception" can go wild with mind-blowing events simply because you first have something or someone to care about. 

[Read together; source]

You may have achieved both of these items in your mind, but does the clarity and feeling in your text extend beyond your mind? Sometimes, what we're writing seems to be clear and gutwrenching, but is it really? It's critical to have readers confirm that they both understand and care. It's helpful to read your writing aloud to and with others. It's also good to get others, including a writing group, to support your confidence in your fulfillment of both rule one and rule two. Take your piece to someone else, possibly several someones. Ask them if you achieved clarity and caring. If so, wonderful. Proceed. If not, ask your reader what you're missing and fix it. 

Emotional Appeal that Transcends Language

 

[Godzilla Minus One; source]

I've been blogging about making any piece more literary. Mostly, I've focused on writing, but I've been thinking a lot about a recent movie I watched, "Godzilla Minus One." It was a hit not because of big Hollywood names or even English but because it spoke in a way that transcends language: storytelling of the heart. Such storytelling makes the audience care in a way a lot of recent big-budget releases don't because they fail to make the audience feel. 

[Emotional impact of good storytelling; source]

Good storytelling, whether it be with a movie, a book, or any other medium, makes the audience care. Good writing can open the mind, but often, step one in opening the mind is to open the heart. That's why so many articles start with personal stories about tragedy or loss. It's also why humorous articles tend to stick in the mind. If a storyteller can make the audience feel, the audience is more likely to listen/watch the first time and come back for more. This is what works about "Godzilla minus One." 

[Pilot: Source]

"Godzilla Minus One" had a budget of about  $15 million, far less than the average Hollywood blockbuster. It tells the redemption story of a kamikaze pilot who fled the military during WWII. When people learn of his past, they look horrified because he was supposed to give his life for his country. The audience watches his heartbreak and pain as he becomes a member of a found family who helps reassemble their country in the wake of the war, even as he ends up in situation after situation that brings him face to face with the titular monster. Each time and throughout the story, we feel the main character's pain and understand his motives. We are in his head. This can be the most emotional and inspiring kind of storytelling. 

[The Villain/central symbol; source]

The monster doesn't remain just a thing on the screen causing problems. Like the best villains, it externalizes his internal drama. Godzilla clearly symbolizes grief, pain, death, and so much more. It is the fear and agony that he, alone, can face, which continues to grow and become more dangerous every time he fails to defeat it. We forget we're in a theater reading subtitles but get swept up in his story. So much of the story is told in visuals that the minor matter of having to read subtitles hardly interferes with the reader's experience. It's a sci-fi story, but it has the potential for such wide appeal because of its emotional depth. Its storytelling transcends language and genre-specific appeal. 

[When storytelling becomes a chaotic mess with the emotional appeal of a mud puddle; source]

A lot of big-budget stories that have been released recently lack this or any emotional impact. Their creators seem to think that as long as there are heroes doing things on the screen, people will pay. But if all one feels when one watches or reads a story is frustration and/or boredom rather than the emotions intended by the movie makers, it's hard to make people want to come back for more. 

[Emotional storytelling; source]

Ideal storytelling elevates the material because of the emotional connection with the audience as happens in this story. Look at a piece of writing you've done recently. Can the reader feel the characters' pain? Are there specific emotional appeals to the main character? If not, what can you do to change that?