(originally posted on 4/19/2008, Writingscape V1.0)
There’s something actors do to bring emotion to their performance in a scene–a type of association/disassociation, revisiting a past situation that mirrors the feelings they need to portray, on the spot. As writers, we must do this too, in our own way, for a character’s actions/reactions to seem genuine rather than manufactured. It isn’t easy, but has to be done because readers can tell, Heinlein bless ‘em, when you don’t.
I was exercising the ol’ Muse with an apocalyptic short story, a month in the journal of a 30-ish woman confronted with the sudden news she’s going to die–SOON. (Instead of creating a character from scratch, it felt better using one I already knew well, from an older teleplay, just plopping her down in this and seeing how she would react.) Well, the problem with Lindsay was this: I was comfy in her head and the first attempt captured her Voice well, but because she is naturally a fake, dramatic, maneating, fashion mag bi-yatch who never shows her vulnerability, she sounded FAKE even in her own journal. LOL! I mean, really. Take a look.
September 1
It’s on every television channel and radio frequency. “We may have to prepare for the extinction of mankind. God help us.” Thank you, Madame President. I’ve screamed at the double irony all day long. Numero uno? Man will always destroy himself. Doesn’t matter how many years he lives–he never learns. It was foolish for anyone to ever think otherwise. Numero dos? I stopped drinking cold turkey and left my career seven months ago, hoping to somehow find redemption in a simpler life. Even if I manage to do that now, what would be the point? I can’t believe this. It’s GOT to be a drill. A stupid joke! It’s not funny.
*****
It wasn’t that I had to lose the fake, dramatic bi-yatchness. Just that I had to capture the fake, dramatic bi-yatchness scared stupid, too freaked out to edit her own writing or make it pretty. So let’s take a look at my second attempt, the first entry rewritten, shall we? Read on.
September 1
How dare they say this to me. How DARE they.
I’m supposed to just accept it? I DON’T.
I stopped drinking cold turkey and left my career seven months ago to find redemption in a simpler life. For NOTHING? Even if I manage to do that now, what would be the damn point?
Men. Men will always destroy themselves! Doesn’t matter how long they live or where they go. Thinking otherwise is mindless. Why did they even try to start over? LOOK at us!
Turning off the television. The radio. I don’t want to hear it anymore.
Please make it a joke.
It’s not funny.
*****
The difference in the first attempt and the second was simply my state of mind. With the first, I was in writer mode, in Lindsay’s head, trying to dredge up despair. With the rewrite, I had real despair to add to the mix. It was this past Wednesday, I’d been to the oncologist with Baby Bro (who has deteriorated a lot), we’d been told his treatments are definitely having no effect and to consider hospice. I’d had to go home and break the news to each member of our family.
Sometimes (but not always, thank Hatshepsut) emotion by association is what’s needed to make a character more real. Unfortunate. But true.
