Weeks ago I was asked to do an article on short stories, specifically. What makes a short story great? And how is it different from writing a novel?
To be honest, writing a novel and writing a short story are very similar in many ways, and most of the techniques I’ve written about on my blog apply: creating complex characters, writing great dialogue, utilizing subtext, including hooks . . .
Sure, there are some exceptions, as always. You can find famous short stories that don’t really have complex characters, for example, but often such stories are really short stories–maybe by today’s standard, considered flash fiction. Here is a famous flash fiction story:
For sale: baby shoes, never worn
Does that really tell us much about the complexity of the characters? Not really. But it does still have great subtext.
So keep in mind that there are always exceptions when it comes to writing, but they are just that, exceptions.
So let’s got started.
One of the most important things about writing a short story is to keep it focused. Technically, novels should be focused too, but their focus has a broader range whereas short stories need to be narrower, like a flashlight beam compared to a laser beam. A common problem I’ve seen with newer writers is that they try to fit a novel-length concept into 50 pages. Problematic. Here are some ways to avoid that.
Limit Plotlines–In a novel, you will need a lot of plotlines to carry the story; if you don’t have that, a novel will start to feel repetitious since it lacks variety for so many pages. But in a short story, you need to limit your plotlines. Many short stories really have one plotline, with two components working closely together: the outer journey and the inner journey. Think about the premise or main concept of your short story, and keep a laser-beam focus on that. Aim to go deep into the concept, not broad on the topic.
Limit Your Characters–In a short story, you’ll usually focus largely on one main character and that character’s arc. The more focal characters you include, the more length you typically add. Sure, you can write a story with more than one focal character–you might be able to get away with maybe two. If you have more than that though, usually the focal characters–while individuals–have the same goals and function as a unit. As opposed to most novels, where each focal (or viewpoint) character may have somewhat different goals and more of their own, individualized journeys. (Again, keep in mind that everything in this post is generally speaking).
A good word of advice that gets pushed around in the industry, related to character and plot, is that in a short story, you should specifically write about the most important event that happened in that character’s life. I don’t know that I agree with this 100%, but it’s a good thing to keep in mind when evaluating plot and character. Capture the most important event, which naturally means that it will be an event that changed the character.
Laser-Beam the Theme–Unfortunately, people still talk and treat theme like it’s this elusive animal–something wild and beautiful, but dangerous if caged. In reality, the more you understand about theme, the more intentional you can be about it. It’s only dangerous when you try to tame it improperly, because you don’t understand it. For a recap on how theme actually works, check out this post, “How to Write Your Story’s Theme”
Themes are fantastic for focusing stories (and especially in short stories that may seem to lack a feeling of … cohesion). And because a lot of people don’t understand how to do them, you can really stand out if you master the theme in your story. Theme is what makes a story feel timeless. It sticks with us after we are done, so we aren’t left closing the book and thinking, Well that was entertaining, time to get back to normal life! If you read five excellent stories, but only one of them has a powerful theme that changed you, guess which one you will think about long, long after you’ve finished it?
In a novel, you have room to explore a theme topic rather broadly. Consider all the ways the theme topics of mercy and justice are illustrated and explored in Les Mis. In a novel, you can also explore how the theme topic interacts with other theme topics, societies, and ideologies. In a short story, you are going to be more laser-focused. Take the classic fable of The Tortoise and The Hare–it stays laser-focused on really one illustration of the theme. It doesn’t go into, say how in some situations in the real world, getting a head start can have benefits. So focus in on a particular rendition or two (but probably no more than three) of your thematic statement.
Often the most famous and powerful short stories are so great because they say something profound in a small amount of space. In a way, it’s similar to poetry. Professional poetry isn’t actually about using beautiful words (which is what a lot of people who have never legit studied it seem to think)–it’s about capturing specific, significant ideas, concepts, and images, in a brief space, for maximum impact. Great short stories function in similar ways, except you have more room to develop a powerful thematic thread. It can be hard to impact a reader in such a short space with the characters and plot, but you can really hit them in the feels with the theme.
Keep reading
Memo to everybody :
Never be afraid to recycle an idea you had for a WIP you abandoned. Sometimes the idea needs a different set of characters or a different setting.
Lately I’ve been revisiting Story by Robert McKee, a famous book on the craft of storytelling. It can be pretty intense and heavy at times, so it’s not something I would recommend for beginners. In fact, the first time I read it, a lot of it was so deep and new that it went over my head. It’s been interesting reading it again. Now, parts seem to be validating my ideas, rather than turning and twisting them.
One thing in particular stuck out to me this last week: character vs. characterization.
Regularly, I see writers hyperfocused on characterization.
Characterization is all the surface or near-surface stuff: voice, demeanor, likes and dislikes, hair and eye color, clothes, habits, etc.
Honestly, I personally consider these things to be part of character, but for the sake of this post, we are going to look at them as two different things, to communicate specific ideas.
Characterization can be really important and really effective. Give us the right voice, mannerisms, and appearance, and we can instantly be drawn to someone. Jack Sparrow is a good example. Johnny Depp combined Pepe le Pew with Keith Richards to come up with a unique, iconic characterization. In fact, Depp is often very good with characterization. A lot of actors have the same demeanor for all of their characters (I’m trying so hard to not name anyone in particular right now), but Depp’s Jack Sparrow, Mad Hatter, Willy Wonka, Grindelwald, Mort Rainey, etc. all have unique characterizations.
You are very familiar with characterization. All over online you can find long questionnaires to fill out to get to know your protagonist (or any other character). Back in the day, I would fill these out because they were fun (and they are, and that’s okay!), but I often found that despite how personal the questions could get (i.e. “What is his/her greatest fear?”), I wasn’t quite satisfied with the person on the page, not to mention that a lot of the stuff I ended up brainstorming seemed irrelevant to the story. And in some cases, I had to change what I’d filled out to write a better story “for some reason.”
I’ve actually heard/read a few writers get on the character vs. characterization bandwagon and go on to kind of … knock down characterization. I don’t agree with that. I strongly believe in the power of rich characterization. And I have zero problems if you want to be like Johnny Depp and give each main character a super unique demeanor. In fact, as long as it doesn’t get too outlandish for your world, I enjoy that and think it is a good idea.
After all, if Jack Sparrow had a demeanor like the Mad Hatter, Pirates would be totally different.
But here is the problem that past me, and I see a lot of writers run into, characterization is not the sum of character. You might be filling out questionnaire after questionnaire, trying to find The Thing™️, but it’s not coming together, because you only know about characterization.
Characterization is part of a character, but it isn’t fully “character.” When it gets down to it, when you want to get really, really deep, characterization isn’t going to get you there.
As J.K. Rowling famously wrote, it’s our choices that determine who we are.
You can be the gothiest goth kid, or the preppiest prep kid, but who you truly are is what you choose to do, and perhaps, I would probably add, why you choose to do it. When encountering a stray dog, do you kick it away or give it some food? You can cut out all the external stuff; you can cut out the hairstyle, the age, the clothes, the likes and dislikes, and at the heart of it, is choices.
But it’s not just any choice.
As Robert McKee and others have stated, to get into that inner gem of character, it’s the choices the character makes when there are significant stakes. If a character chooses vanilla ice cream over chocolate, that doesn’t really tell me a lot, unless I want to read symbolism into it (which could be there).
Maybe your protagonist tells the truth to his parents about putting a frog in his sister’s bed. Does that really matter if there are no potential consequences involved? Telling the truth when there are no dire consequences is easy. Telling the truth when there are important things at stake is harder. What if telling the truth meant he would be grounded and could not participate in a talent show he’s been practicing for, for months? There is prize money involved, and he was hoping to use that money to buy a chemistry set. Chemistry is his passion and he wants be a world-renowned chemist someday. Which is more important to him? A potential chemistry set or telling the truth?
This can be a great way to add depth. Well, it is depth. Especially if their characterization seems to be at odds with who they truly are. A vampire who craves human blood but chooses not to drink it is interesting. A prince who’d rather be a beach bum is interesting. The bully who, when it gets down to it, sticks up for an enemy is interesting. It makes them more complex. It draws us in so we want to know more. Why doesn’t this vampire drink human blood? Why doesn’t this prince want to be a king? Why did this bully stick up for someone? The answers to those questions makes them complex.
We all have layers after all. And we all have boundaries. I almost never lie. But if I was stuck between telling the truth or lying to save a loved one’s life, well, I’d pick the latter. But if I picked the former, that would say a lot about me as well.
Some writers throw in contradictions to create character depth (a vampire who refuses to drink human blood), which works, but if it’s a main character, and I never get an idea or hint of the “why,” I sometimes find myself feeling … cheated. Like it was just thrown in (and maybe it was). I also then get stuck, fixated on the why that I never get, so it’s distracting. I don’t know that we always need to explore the why, but I would say for main characters, it’s almost always more effective, more powerful, more meaningful, to address the why, to some extent. Unless, of course, the reason is ridiculous, in which case, maybe you need to reevaluate that and come up with something better.
There is an important part to all of this, which is that we need to see your character making significant choices, which means they must be placed in situations where they can make decisions. If you don’t give your character opportunities to make significant decisions, it’s probably going to be a problem. This is another reason why people ask for “active” protagonists. They must want something and make choices with stakes attached.
Don’t be afraid to make your protagonist’s true self a bit negative or flawed–after all, they need to grow during the story (usually). Maybe near the beginning of the story, you show your character being selfish, but at the end, we see he is willing to sacrifice his life, literally or figuratively. This is called character arc.
The way your character changes through the course of the story can also bring more “character” to him or her than characterization can alone. If we have a character that starts as a villain, but ends up being a good guy by the end, well, that’s interesting and complex, and the transformation demands depth to be satisfying. This can all get more complicated real fast, because there are degrees and variations, and I don’t want to muddy the water quite yet.
But if you are only trying to find character by filling out endless characterization questionnaires, you might never write a fully formed, deep, complex character. Instead, consider choices, contradictions, and arcs.
As I am preparing for Camp NaNo*, I have been working on my story file. It occurred to me this might not be common or popular practice. “Story File” is a name I gave it and maybe some of y’all have a different name with the same contents.
*There’s still time to apply to join my Camp NaNo cabin!
It’s broken up into major categories and specific templates. So without further ado, here is how I structure my Story File.
Title
Logline
Synopsis
Genre
Estimated Total Length (word count)
Draft Length Goal (word count)
Character Bank
Main characters and brief, one-sentence descriptions with ages
Central Question
The Yes/No question that is being asked through the whole story
Should have objective qualities, rather than subjective
i.e. “Will they fall in love?” (subjective) vs. “Will they leave their partners and become a couple?” (objective)
Thematic Questions
These are the internal conflict questions that reside in your character(s) and your story
ex. “Can there really be a successful government?”
ex. “Does grief excuse bad actions?”
Themes at a Glance
Words or phrases that relate to the themes of the story
ex. person vs. nature
ex. isolation
ex. grief
ex. first love
Motivation / Stasis State / Final State
for each main character, you should write a sentence or two pertaining to these three things
Motivation: What is the drive behind this character and their past, present, and future actions? What part of their background makes them the way that they are? What are they looking for? What do they want out of this/a situation?
Stasis State: What are they like before the inciting incident? What problems and questions do they have?
Final State: What has changed about them and their outlook? What questions have they resolved? What has happened to their internal conflict?
Relationships
I usually make a little web of the MCs and their relationship to one another. One for the stasis and one for final.
Stasis: How do these characters see each other? How do they act toward the other? (All before the inciting incident)
Final: How do these characters see each other now? How has their idea of one another shifted?
Even if a character dies before the end, include the most recent relationship status in the Final web.
ex. this is how I organize it, using the Draw feature of Google Docs
This is just a very preliminary character bank. If you prefer a more in-depth one, check out my 6 Box Method.
Per (relevant/important) character:
Name
Nickname/preferred name
Age
Field/Occupation
Personality
Personal History
Education/Occupation History
Extra Notes:
(Check out my worldbuilding posts on Categories Pt. 1 and 2 for better context)
Seasons and Climate
Languages
Other Cultural Pockets
Folklore and Legends
Fine Arts
Dress and Modesty
Classes
Jobs
Currency and Economics
Shopping
Agriculture and Livestock
Imports and Exports
Literature, Pop Culture, and Entertainment
Food and Water
Holidays and Festivals
Family and Parenting
Relationships
Housing
Religion and Beliefs
Government
Health and Medicine
Technology and Communication
Death
Transportation
Plants, Animals, and Human-environment Interaction
Education
Beauty Standards
Gender and Sexuality
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I hope this helps y’all and supplements what you’re probably already doing. I know it’s helped me tons to have everything in a central place.
Best of luck!
I haven’t mentioned this before, but I’m close to graduating with a psychology degree. As I was organizing things to move back in at university, I came across some notes from my Developmental Psych class. Psychologist Urie Bronfenbrenner presented an ecological systems model of child development, which represents a dynamic model of how people develop psychologically depending on their environment. I realized this may be an interesting reference for writers as we consider worldbuilding.
The individual is at the center. Each level interacts with the others and may affect them in different ways and to different degrees at different times. The individual is at the center of the model and has inherent traits which are the result of genetics. The microsystem is the individual’s most immediate surroundings. These are the places and people they come into close contact with on a daily basis, including the home and peer groups. The way microsystems treat the individual influence them, but the behavior of the individual also influences how the microsystems react to them. The mesosystem is essentially comprised of links between microsystems - between home and school, between home and church, between family and peers. Active involvement between microsystems promotes harmony and a sense of like-mindedness. The exosystem consists of linkages between systems that do not directly influence the individual, but do so indirectly by influencing a microsystem. For instance, the parents’ workplaces influences the parents’ behavior in the presence of the individual. The macrosystem consists of more distant influences that still have a significant impact on the individual. These elements often include beliefs, values, and other aspects of culture. For instance, life in a country at war will influence an individual differently than life in a country at peace. The chronosystem simply incorporates the meaningful passage of time. What is in each system, how much it affects an individual, and how can all shift in time.
One can relate Bronfenbrenner’s model to creating a fictional sense of place however one likes, but I’ve drawn some parallels between each level and a corresponding element in worldbuilding. The model looks something like this.
The main character (or characters) lies at the center of your worldbuilding. It is through their eyes, or over their shoulder, that the reader experiences the world in which your story is set. A strong sense of place is vital to telling a satisfying tale, and a great deal of it comes down to your protagonists. Like in the original model, the protagonist has certain inborn traits that are a result of nature, but are also influenced by nurture - the other systems, in this case. The world is reflected in the hearts, minds, and behaviors of the people who live in it, and the people are reflected in the world they populate.
These are the people the protagonists interacts with most, and it’s a two-way street of influence. Their behavior influences the protagonist, but the protagonist affects them as well. You can present a great deal of information about the world through the interactions between characters. The way your protagonist interacts with parents and siblings can reveal family structure and dynamics, and interactions with friends or coworkers can shine light on social classes, pastimes, or employment. What your characters do, how they do it, and how they speak or feel about it will reveal what is normal or not.
Where are all these interactions taking place? The actual physical locales in seen in your story have an impact on the way people behave, but don’t forget the direct effect of setting the scene. One behaves differently at school, as opposed to the mall - how can you use differences like this to portray societal norms and mores in your story? Additionally, the events and values of a world leave physical reminders, which may be as simple as smog over a city unconcerned by or incapable of controlling pollution. Perhaps there is graffiti in the streets leftover from social or political unrest. The remnants of a torn-down shrine or monument may reflect changing values, war, or persecution of certain religions or other groups. Living conditions can portray class differences. Possibilities are endless.
Social structure has ramifications on who can interact with whom and what’s considered appropriate. These rules may be very strict or much more informal. If there are rigorous separations in place according to class, an interaction between members of different status will be shocking to your characters. Speaking out against an elder coworker may have severe consequences, or employees may be under forced retirement deadlines - these differences reveal if old age is revered or looked down upon. What holidays do people celebrate, and how? What manners of speech or behavior are unique to the setting? Social norms will be reflected in the behavior of your characters, but the population is capable of changing those norms.
The setting at large still has far-reaching influence on your story. The geography itself will determine a number of things about the setting, including the landscape, weather, physical resources available, methods of transportation and more. All of these things trickle down into each of the layers beneath it and leave their fingerprints. If transportation is unfavorable, how does this affect information and cultural exchange? How about the economy? The physical setting is an umbrella of elements which may change everything under it, even in small or indirect ways.
The genre determines, amongst a few other things, how much of each of the above is needed. In essence, genre can be your guide to where you should place your focus in worldbuilding. Fantasy and science fiction often call for a greater emphasis on the physical setting and cultures, while realistic fiction set in real-life places readers are likely to be familiar with is likely to need emphasis on the protagonist and supporting cast. Some genres, such as historical fiction, may need a more evenly balanced blend of each system. The plot structure itself will also have an influence. For instance, in a ‘pursuit’ plot, the ticking clock and pursuit itself are typically considered of more import than the characters, while ‘forbidden love’ plots are all about the people and culture.
Remember, as always, to mold writing advice to your work and not the other way around. The influence of one or more of these systems may be heightened or lessened, depending on the needs of your story, and they may interact differently, perhaps even from chapter to chapter. Thank you for reading, and I hope this can be a useful model for you to use as a springboard in some of your worldbuilding.
“could love really be that transcribable?”
musings about love at 5am……….
the bestest of babes!! @sundaynightnovels @vandorens @laketrials @unnagi @babyreeds @haleliwia @paracomas @ncwrites @ashesconstellation @luciellesgarden @heyabella @poeticparchment @silver-wields-a-pen @semblanche @stuffaboutwriting
Visit PART ONE: the basics.
Visit PART TWO: the nitty gritty.
Here we’ll cover some common situations where writing respectful non-binary characters can be trickier.
Non-human non-binary characters aren’t inherently disrespectful to non-binary people, but it can easily become negative representation when there are no non-binary humans present, because it implies that those with non-binary genders are less human (and usually more monstrous or more alien) than people with binary genders. You can read more about why this is a problem in this full analysis by Christine Prevas.
There’s a very simple solution to this though: Write some non-binary humans. (Or, in the least, make it explicitly clear that non-binary humans exist, and are just as valid in their identity as anyone else.)
This situation is very similar to the non-binary non-humans, but instead of implying that non-binary people are less human, it implies they are less moral, abnormal, depraved, or insane. Villainous figures in history have often have their villainy connected to or blamed on their non-gender conforming traits. We don’t want to add to that clinging transphobic and homophobic belief with modern fiction.
As with non-binary non-humans, having non-villainous non-binary characters can go a long way in offsetting this, as well as not connecting (or letting characters within the world connnect) the villain’s non-binary aspects with their perceived villainy. Instead of writing a non-binary villain, write a villain who also happens to be non-binary.
(On this note, I would be very cautious about writing villains who are being villainous because they’ve suffered from transphobia.)
This falls into the same category as the previous two sections, but it has just one solution: don’t kill your story’s only non-binary or trans character. Just don’t do it. If that character has to die to make the plot continue, let there be another primary non-binary or trans character in the story somewhere.
Let’s break this into two different types of coming out:
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Hopefully by now you know that in most of your scenes you need to have a character in a setting with tension, but there is an area of writing where I don’t feel like we spend enough time talking about, which is blocking. And I’m not talking about writer’s block. The term “blocking” is borrowed from play performances. Blocking is just about anything an actor does that isn’t dialogue: where they stand, where they look, how they interact with the setting, how they move across the stage, how close they are to what, how they interact with props. Often audiences pay little attention to blocking, or rather they don’t think about it enough to appreciate it. But if a play has little to no blocking, well, that’s a tough play to sit through as an audience. They may not always have an eye for great blocking, but they’ll notice if it’s not there. Blocking is just as important in fiction writing. And like with plays, it’s likely the reader won’t appreciate great blocking, but they’ll get antsy and annoyed if there is no blocking, and they’ll get confused if there is poor blocking. If you don’t use blocking, not only does it make it difficult for the audience to imagine where your characters are relative to the setting, but you’re selling your story short by not using it to your advantage. As an editor, I see blocking problems crop up from time to time, usually in dialogue scenes. The writer will tell me where the characters are (for example, cooking in the kitchen), but then as I read the scene, I get no sense of specifically where each character is in the room, what each one is doing, if they are standing at an island or sitting at the table, chopping lettuce for a salad, or loading the dish washer. Next thing I know, not only are they done cooking, but they are done eating and are outside getting in the suburban. Sure, some scenes don’t require much, if any, blocking. But in most scenes, you need some sense of blocking. Likewise, you can over-block a scene–putting so much blocking in, that it becomes unnecessary, sucks up the scene’s focus, and slows the pacing. A great narrative hand knows how much to guide the reader and when to back off. So let’s get to some tips about blocking:
- Continuity Errors. One of the main problems I see with blocking in unpublished fiction is continuity errors. In one line, a character is sitting on a couch in the living room, and a few lines later, she’s sitting on her bed, in the same scene with no sense of motion. Often it can happen with objects characters are holding. Misty is knitting a scarf, but then a few lines later, it says she’s knitting a blanket. It can happen with food. Zack has a cup of orange juice, but later it talks about how he’s enjoying the taste of coffee. Watch out for when characters’ hands are full or when you have them doing something they aren’t capable of. For example, say it’s been recently established that Sandra glued back together two broken figurines and she’s holding one each hand. While she’s waiting for them to dry, she doesn’t dare put them down , and then suddenly she’s buttoning up the jacket of her little boy. What happened to the figurines? In some cases, motions can be assumed–but make sure they can be, or that you imply them somehow, so that it doesn’t read like a continuity error. Watch out for having characters sit down, who were already sitting, or characters standing up who were already standing. Characters who put on their shoes twice, or turn off the fan twice.
- Spatial Vagueness. I’m trying to decide if I see this one more than continuity errors … and I have to say probably. Another one of the most common problems with blocking, is vagueness. This usually happens because the setting, objects, or characters’ distances from one another or other things haven’t been properly established. I might get a line that says, “Joey walked down the street”–and as the scene goes on, I get no sense of what street, what city, what it looks like, what season it is, or where or why he is walking in the first place. Sometimes I don’t get any sense of setting and only conversations and body language, and next I know, I read the line “Tiff walked inside.” What? They were outside that whole conversation? And what did she walk into? When blocking is vague, the audience has to fill in the blanks, which can be a problem if it’s not what the author actually pictures. As an editor, this often happens to me. I’ll be picturing the characters sitting in opposite places in a living room, and then suddenly I’m reading how one put her arm around the other. In my head, they weren’t close enough to each other to do that. Use:
- Specificity. Being specific isn’t necessarily the same as being detailed. Details can help make something be specific, but they aren’t the same thing. And with blocking, in some cases, the more detailed it is, the more it hurts the story because it slows the pacing and changes the story’s focus. In my example above, “Joey walked down the street,” the sentence can be more specific by adding and changing a few words. “Joey walked down Mulberry Street, autumn leaves crunching under his feet.” In certain kinds of action scenes, it can be very important to be specific in word choice, and not in details. “Joey leapt for the fire escape.” “Margaret hit Lolly in the jaw.” But if you try to put too much detail into action, it can slow the moment way down. In some cases, it’s helpful to establish the setting before the characters start interacting with it. This makes the setting or “stage” more specific in the reader’s mind. They know there is a pool table and pinball machine in the room, so when one character slams the other into the pool table, it makes sense. Be specific, not vague. How much detail you include depends on pacing and the focus of the scene. - Blocking to contribute to or emphasize points. This is especially true for conversations. As an argument gets more intense, a character may invade the other’s personal space. If one character suddenly says something that makes the other uncomfortable, the latter may take a step back. If one character is vulnerable, whether the second draws closer or steps away can convey a lot. Of course, you can use setting and props to do the same thing. As an argument gets intense, one character throws something at the other. If someone is uncomfortable, she might put something (an island, a couch, a car, a teeter-totter) between them. If she’s feeling vulnerable, she might “hide” or “block” herself by getting a blanket, picking up a book to look at, or turning away from the speaker to pretend interest in a rose bush. When Sherlock gets frustrated, what does he do? He stabs the mantle. He puts a bullet in the wall. This is blocking that emphasizes and contributes to the situation or point at hand. Even in a scene where blocking is the primary focus (building an invention, competing in America Ninja Warrior, forging a sword, hunting), how the character interacts with the setting and objects can emphasize points–how tightly he holds a screwdriver, how sweaty her hands are against a climbing wall, the way he beats the metal, how many shots she shoots. You can also use blocking to heighten tension. “He picked up a knife and concealed it under the table,” immediately adds tension and anticipation to a scene.
- Blocking to Convey Character. Similar, yet different from, the last section, you can use blocking to convey character, rather than just the moment at hand. The fact that Sherlock stabs the mantle whenever he gets frustrated is something specific to his character. It helps establish who he is. And actually, that fact becomes specifically important in season four–when we understand that he, someone who is supposedly not driven by emotion, sometimes manifests more raw emotion than any one else. A character who sees litter at a park and picks it up is much different than one who adds to it. A character who comforts a crying stranger is different than one who ignores them. A character who always makes sure she’s near an exit is different than one who could care less. Blocking is great to show character and their feelings, rather than tell them. - Blocking to give motion to still or stagnant scenes. You may sometimes have scenes where all that really matters is the conversation between two of your characters, or maybe you need to have your character delve into a moment of introspection to solve a mystery. It might not matter even where this moment takes place. A lot of beginning writers will open a story with a character sitting and thinking. One of the reasons this is a problem is because there is no motion, there is nothing happening in the present moment. Use blocking to add motion. Instead of having your character sit and think, maybe you can have her catching insects for her bug collection while she thinks. Not only does this create more motion and interest, but also gives you material for the two bullet points before this one, so that it can actually add to the introspection and characterization. The fact she just caught a monarch butterfly might not be important to the main plot, but it tells us more about her, and in fact, you can even use that event and butterfly as a type or symbol of whatever she’s thinking about for added emphasis and tone. With that said, some conversations are very important, interesting, have high tension, or natural draws–they may have incorporeal motion–and already carry the audience, and sometimes when you put in blocking, it actually takes away from that, instead of contributing to it, by drawing away the audience’s attention. Their attention to the conversation is competing with the blocking. So watch for that. - Blocking for natural pauses, lulls in conversations, and for beats in dialogue. On the topic of dialogue exchanges, when there is a natural pause in dialogue or a lull in conversation, instead of saying “There was a moment of quiet,” you can put in a bit of blocking to convey that. “Forget it,” Fred said. “I didn’t want your help anyway.” Nancy looked down at the scarf she was crocheting and realized her hands had stopped moving. She put the scarf down on the coffee table, and flattened it out as she tried to find her words. “You like her, don’t you?” she asked. You can also use blocking for beats in dialogue. Rather than always using dialogue tags, you can use a beat to imply who is speaking what line. “Cedric Diggory was murdered,” Harry said. “Whatever you’ve been told,” Professor Umbridge said, “that. Is. A. Lie.” Harry shot up out of his desk. “It’s not a lie!”
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OKAY LISTEN UP YOU BEAUTIFUL OC-DEVELOPING FIENDS
After my long and lengthy years of developing characters (not really) I have a nugget of wisdom for y’all.
Do this:
Look. You don’t need any artistic talent. Hell, this could be a vaguely brain-shaped oval with some words in it.
But the point of this is that you draw your character’s brains and fill it with the things they think of most, the things that matter to them most, the things that are so essential to them that they are nothing without it.
I find that doing this helps so much when shaping a character’s voice, and it visually maps out their personality in a way that character sheets can’t.
For example, my character Isha is logical and she compartmentalizes things, so I drew a more angular design, while Aster’s mind more resembles her anxiety and wandering thoughts.
Yeah that’s all.
Knock yourself out friends.
This story is so cute! I love the style and tone of it; it really makes me sympathise with the character!
December 3rd There is a new barista at my coffee shop. She has the most amazing eyes I ever saw. I mean I know ember colored eyes exist but I have never seen some in real life. Hers glow like the sun and sparkle like the stars. Sadly I had no time today because of this stupid essay. I really like to know why we need to finish it before Christmas. Like December isn’t already busy like hell and a good month to kill someone and go free because of acute mental incapacity. December 7th I hate deadlines! Especially when they suddenly are earlier than the professor said at first. How shall I finish this in three days? At least I ran into the new barista again. It seems like she works only part-time there. I guess she is my age? So maybe she works to pay for college? Anyway, she was so nice to not put the extra shot espresso on the bill. I must have looked like a zombie. I actually feel like one. Beware of the Walking College Student! December 10th I either kill my professor or my roommate, whoever happens to cross my path first. Now we are back to the old deadline and my fucking stupid roommate managed to kill the electricity for the whole dorm. I am sure she made it on purpose to have an excuse to ask for more time for her own essay because she is the master of not planning. So I had to sit at the coffee shop to work on this stupid essay I like to burn right now. Or burn down the professor’s office? Could it help? But I now know the new barista is a student because I sat there when she came in for her shift and still wore one of the college sweaters. Damn, these hips can kill, I am sure off. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has to fend of idiots multiple times a day. Men can be so damn stupid sometimes. December 12th I managed to remember to look at the new barista’s name tag. Her name is Allison! Okay, that is so not creepy, right? I think I spend too much time at the coffee shop. My caffeine intake doubled the last weeks like I am made of coffee. But on the other side, it gives me a chance to go to the coffee shop more. I think I can blame my professors for this when mom starts to nag about it. I mean how shall a normal person with a 24 hours day manage to get all this shit done without coffee?
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