Category Archives: Authorial Trust

Quentin Tarantino’s Subtle Masterpiece

We’ve all seen Quentin Tarantino’s movies and the episodes of television he has guest-directed (I’m partial to his epic episode of ER), and there are so many things we love or maybe hate about them. I have my favorites and my not-so favorites like everyone else. Yet, his almost unique approach to storytelling makes him one of the examples I use when I discuss movies that are even better than their screenplays read. Does he tend to have too-long periods of conversation? Sure. Is there a lot of gratuitous violence? Yes. But it hasn’t always been that way. Along the way, he mastered subtle story-telling.

My favorite of Tarantino’s movies is Jackie Brown. The movie is based on crime fiction master Elmore Leonard’s novel Rum Punch. With a stellar cast including Pam Grier, Samuel L. Jackson, Michael Keaton, Robert Forster, Chris Tucker, Bridget Fonda, and Robert De Niro, this film is not a hyper-violent revenge saga (Kill Bill) or a riff on alternate history (Inglorious Basterds), this is a very subtle character study and as such it is a masterpiece.

Jackie Brown (Grier) is a middle-aged flight attendant who smuggles money from Mexico into the United States for arms dealer Ordell Robbie (Jackson). When she’s caught by Federal agents, they propose a deal for her to help them arrest Ordell in exchange for her freedom. Ordell bails out Jackie with the intention of eliminating her, but Jackie is thinking ahead and plots a way to steal $500,000 from Ordell with the help of her bail bondsman Max Cherry (Forster). Things seldom are so simple.

From the beginning of the movie, the characters are so subtly handled that it almost makes you wonder if you’re watching a Tarantino film. We immediately like and empathize with Jackie in a dead-end job because we see her hurrying through the airport and putting on a smile all the while. When she’s caught, we can see she was stuck in the middle of a bad situation because it helped financially. Ordell (a masterful performance by Jackson) is creepy, distrustful, and loathsome from the moment we meet him – and he gets worse throughout the film. But these audience reactions are genuine and not ham-fisted by any means. Just by watching the movie and letting the character’s depth play out visually, you pick these things up. Tarantino mastered “show, don’t tell” and he doesn’t need product placement, direct conversation, or tedious imagery to get the point across.

The heart of the movie is the relationship between Jackie and Max. We see two middle-aged people in dead-end jobs that they do not enjoy being drawn together. How Tarantino handles their relationship is simply beautiful. The gradual development of their unspoken feelings for each other reaches a crescendo when Max puts his life on the line for her. I won’t spoil the ending, but the first time I watched it I remember wishing like hell it had been different only to realize that it was perfectly crafted for the characters because of who they were and what we as the audience had learned about them throughout the film.

And one more example. Robert De Niro’s character is such a departure for the actor that you’re almost dumbfounded he’s playing that role. To me, this is brilliant casting because you’re waiting for De Niro to be De Niro, you know? And when it happens, it’s brutal and perfect. I’ll leave it at that and not spoil much more. Brilliant casting.

One final thought. I always write with music playing and I pay very close attention to movie soundtracks for what works and what does not. Music is important to mood and when done well it’s a subtle attention grabber. The soundtrack for this movie is simply amazing. Every song fits its scene perfectly.

Tarantino’s strength in bringing memorable characters to life with the subtle aspects of their personalities, likes, dislikes, and they way there simply “are” is something all of us should strive for in our writing. Beating the reader over the head with what you want them to know takes away from the level of care they should develop for your characters. Be subtle. Be brilliant.

Can’t Take the Sky From Me!

May 18, 2016

Nathan Barra

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A couple months ago, I had the pleasure of introducing my girlfriend to one of my favorite fandoms — the Firefly TV series. We shared a bottle of wine and watched the first few episodes together while at her place one night. When I was getting ready to leave, she asked to borrow the DVDs so she could finish the series. Being an avid Browncoat, I of course had no problem with this.

A few days later, she returned my DVDs and we had a lively chat about her favorite characters, plot lines, and moments. Towards the end of the conversation, she smiled at me and said, “Well, I really enjoyed that. I’m ready to borrow the next season if you have it on DVD as well.”

Ooops… “Ummm,” I said, “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Do you have a digital copy we can watch together?”

“Well darling, there’s no more.”

Pause.

“What do you mean there’s no more?”

I probably shouldn’t have smiled, but I did. “Well you see, Fox canceled Firefly after a single season.”

“What? That’s stupid! Why would they do that?”

“Love, people have been asking that very question for years.”

Like many other major fandoms, we Browncoats are passionate in our love. However, unlike most of the others, our series only had 14 episodes with which to win our undying affection for Serenity and her crew. How did Joss Whedon do it? Why were we addicted so fast? Part of becoming a writer is learning how to dissect the pieces of fiction you love to find out what gives them their power. I’ve rewatched the Firefly TV series half a dozen times over the years, hoping to unlock Whedon’s secrets to addictive storytelling. I have a few theories, but here are the top seven reasons I think that Firefly was so powerful.

1. FIREFLY TRANSPORTS US TO A FANTASTIC PLACE AND TIME.

In Million Dollar Outlines, David Farland pointed out that many of the most successful movies of the last 50 years actively transported their audience to a different place or time. The ‘Verse that Whedon created certainly checked that box. Whedon’s world was dynamic, colorful, and exciting. The juxtaposition between the advanced societies of the Core and the space cowboy Rim was both charming and filled with conflict. And come on, who doesn’t want to be a space pirate living on the Serenity?

2. FIREFLY WAS TUNED TO SATISFY OUR EMOTIONAL NEEDS.

Part of Joss’ brilliance with the Firefly series was how well he was able to blend all sorts of emotional payoffs.

Excitement — I mean, space pirates, am I right?
Romance — There were three very different romantic subplots. The first, between Mal and Inara, was a reluctant attraction story all too reminiscent of modern dating. The second, between Simon and Kaylee, was more of a young love. It resonates well with our own first romantic exploits. Finally, there was the established love between Wash and Zoe. It was unlikely, yet stable and strong. Something many of us wish to find for ourselves.
Humor — Sometimes it was simple one liners, references to flowered bonnets or the “special Hell.” Other times it was a running gag, like when we had an entire episode about Jayne being a folk hero. Either way, there were plenty of laughs and inside jokes.
Mystery — River and Book’s back stories provided plenty of intriguing questions that have fueled fan speculation even long after the series ended.
Wonder — I mean, space pirates, am I right?

In so doing, Whedon was able to cast a wide net, both attracting and satisfying a large and diverse audience.

3. THE CREW OF THE SERENITY FIGHTS LIKE FAMILY.

This aspect is twofold. On the onehand, there was plenty of conflict on the Serenity. Each member of the ensemble drove the others crazy at times. That special sort of insanity reserved for siblings. It kept things interesting and dynamic. It also resonates strongly with much of the audience.

On the other hand, they also fought as a family, repeatedly and selflessly putting themselves at risk for one another. Watch the episode where they assault Niska’s station or the one where the crew goes back to rescue Simon and River from hill people. They were willing to die, and kill, to save their own. They loved one another, one of the truest human emotions and an undeniable anchor for audience empathy.

4. THEY AIMED TO MISS BEHAVE…

The crew of the Serenity were pirates, criminals and vagabonds. They stole from the rich, sold to the poor, and were gleeful in their exploits against the Alliance. In our world of well-ordered queues and 9 to 5 jobs, we enjoy stepping out of line with them every now and then.

5. …AND YET THEY HAD HEARTS OF GOLD.

When it came down to the line and they had to choose between fleeing near certain death or fighting, they stood their ground and fought for what was right.

6. THE ODDS WERE ALWAYS STACKED AGAINST THEM.

Audiences love underdogs, and the crew of the Serenity always faced overwhelming odds. The government of the Alliance was demonstrably selfish and neglectful, if not outright evil at times. Life on the Rim was brutal and occasionally cruel. However, our band of miss fits struggled to survive none the less, often escaping those chasing them by the narrowest of margins.

7. JOSS LEFT ENOUGH ROOM FOR GROWTH.

Each of the characters was treated as a whole person and given room to grow as an individual. They each had their own pasts, natures, and futures. Though they couldn’t all always share the spotlight, Joss allowed each their own time to shine. Throughout the series, we were able to watch them become better versions of themselves, carving out a home and a family in the uncaring ‘Verse they were born into.

Stages of Team Development

May 9, 2016

Jace Killan

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The following could constitute a class from your local business school, but it’s also used in great story-telling. In my work with organizations, I have seen group after group follow the stages of team development in their quest to become an effective team. These stages are Forming, Storming, Norming, and Performing.

A group of individuals don’t simply meet one day and perform together as an effective team, just as a group of characters don’t start the story already performing at a high level of effectiveness. Great stories involve try-fail cycles and character arcs.

What I’m about to share is in a lot of movies/stories like Remember the Titans, The Martian, Apollo 13, The Incredibles, Dark Knight Rises, The Way of Kings (not a movie yet), and so many more, but I’m going to focus on The Avengers (2012).

FORMING – Nick Fury starts to form a group of superheroes namely Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and The Hulk. At first, the individuals were all about doing their own thing. They each had some experience in their element, but little experience in working as a team, especially with others as equally talented as themselves.

STORMING – Often Storming follows Forming though it may pop up from time to time. For example, Civil War is pretty much all Storming in a group that at the end of the first Avengers reaches the level of a Performing Team.

In the first Avengers Movie, Storming happens throughout a lot of the money and is based on the dynamics of characters interacting with one another in the group. Hulk doesn’t want to help. Thor wants to do his own thing. Iron Man’s too arrogant to ask for help. All of these and more prevent the group from developing into an effective team. “What are we a team? No, we’re a time bomb.” – Bruce Banner

NORMING really starts when the team thinks Agent Coulson was killed. Nick Fury uses this moment to inspire the group and get them all on the same page. In the following scene they stop trying to do it their way (individually) and start respecting each other’s talents and skills. Norming suggests synergies. As a team they are greater than the sum of their parts.

PERFORMING happens right at the end. The Avengers spent some time Norming, figuring out each other’s strengths and weaknesses. And then Captain and Iron Man really start to employ the others and work as a team.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nEo40Y-Qrc

The following is the culmination of the performing team and my favorite clip of the movie.

I live in Arizona with my family, wife and five kids and a little dog. I write fiction, thrillers and soft sci-fi with a little short horror on the side. I’ve hold an MBA and work in finance for a biotechnology firm.

I volunteer with the Boy Scouts, play and write music, and enjoy everything outdoors. I’m also a novice photographer.

You can read some of my works by visiting my Wattpad page and learn more at www.jacekillan.com.

Serialization: Pros and Pitfalls

May 4, 2016

Gregory D. Little

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As I work on the sequel to Unwilling Souls, I find myself having to confront the question of serialization versus episodic storytelling. My admission up front: I love serialized stories. Aside from sitcoms, I don’t really watch any television that doesn’t feature at least some element of serialization. While I realize there’s a certain comfort to be had in procedurals or episodic series, they will never be my first choice, precisely for that reason. Very little ever changes.

The idea that each installment of a story builds into something greater has always appealed to me. And in today’s age of serialized TV and prestige series, it’s hard to remember there was ever anything else. But networks used to look down on serialized storytelling. And if you do a little digging, it’s not hard to see why. In this post, I’ll take you through three series’ attempts at serialization across a couple of different timeframes, what worked about it and what didn’t.

The X-Files: You might call this a proto-serialized drama, or at least a drama with a central mystery at its core. For cave-dwellers or young people, the X-Files featured FBI agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully assigned to solve the paranormal cases the FBI normally tried to downplay or ignore. Most episodes fell into a sort of “monster of the week” episodic pattern. But several times each season, including the beginning and the end, the series’ overarching story would come to the forefront: that of Mulder’s obsessive quest to uncover the truth behind alien abductions and the government’s cover-up, including the abduction of his sister when they were both children. Early on the series’ run, I (and most) enjoyed the “monster of the week” episodes but really looked forward to the alien storyline, eagerly awaiting each new installment’s advancement of the central mystery.

As the series aged, however, it became more and more apparent that the showrunners didn’t have an overall plan for the mystery, and were just dragging it out as long as possible, allowing it to grow more and more elaborate and nonsensical. By the time the lead actors were bowing out of the show save for guest appearances, it was the monster of the week episodes that still maintained a semblance of quality, while the serialized overarching story had become a mess that would obviously never reach a satisfactory conclusion. That’s the major advantage episodic TV will always have over serial TV. Each installment has a beginning a middle and an end, all neatly contained in an hour of the viewer’s time. Serialized stories have to work extra hard to give installments the feel of a miniature story arc while simultaneously advancing the overarching plot. It adds a dimension of complexity to the writing.

The X-Files finale was all but incomprehensible, and while the recent short 10th season proved the actors still bring chemistry to their characters, the alien storyline remains as opaque as ever. Ultimately, the X-Files serves as a cautionary tale to future shows about being careful with open-ended mysteries. The lesson of the X-Files: A mysterious series mythos requires, if not exact planning to the last detail, at least some forethought unless you are a virtuoso of retconning.

Lost: Though this isn’t in chronological order, The X-FIles leads us naturally into Lost, the show that learned the most from the X-Files. Lost begins with a plane crash which a seemingly miraculous number of people survive. The tropical island onto which they’ve crashed is filled with all kinds of strange, wondrous and terrifying things, like polar bears, mysterious hatches buried in the jungle, and the eerie people already living on the island, creepily known only as the Others. Like its spiritual predecessor, Lost builds its show around a central mystery: What is the Island? Unlike the X-Files, while there are episodes that don’t advance the main plot, quite a few of them in the first three seasons, nearly every episode takes place on the island itself, so there’s no forgetting the main, serialized plot.

Lost’s first season was utterly captivating, introducing us to the characters by giving each one or more episodes focused on them and their backstory while simultaneously advancing the plot. The problems didn’t really arise until Season 2 and then, even more, Season 3. It turns out that the show-runners (the show was conceived by All-SFF Team Producer J.J. Abrams but he was not involved beyond the pilot episode) did not have any more idea where the story was going than the creator of the X-Files did or, perhaps more importantly, how long they would have to stall giving out answers to their mysteries. But they learned from history.

By the time the third season was floundering in stall-tactics designed to drag out the mysteries toward an unknown series end date, the producers made the bold decision of approaching the network with a proposal to last three more 16 episode seasons and then end. Given the fact that the show was a ratings juggernaut, give props to ABC for agreeing to the schedule. From that moment on Lost became much more focused and fast-paced. Gone were the stalling episodes of Jack getting a tattoo. Each episode now drove the plot inexorably forward, and though the ending of the series was controversial to many, no one can deny that it was an ending. The lesson? If you’re telling a serialized story, plan for it to have a beginning, middle and end so that you pace correctly.

Battlestar Galactica (2004 Reboot): Speaking of controversial endings, BSG was heavily serialized from beginning to end, almost without exception. Rare was an episode that could be called truly standalone. Like Lost before it, the show was built around a relatively simple premise. The Cylons (human-hating robots, some of which are indistinguishable from humans) have destroyed human civilization in retaliation for decades-old mistreatment, and the entire remains of the human race comprise rag-tag fleet of spacecraft looking for the last habitable world in their records: the mythical colony of Earth.

From the beginning of the show, things like resource conservation, the problem of governance when your entire governmental apparatus is destroyed, and “the enemy within” became staple elements of the show’s plot. Every episode relentlessly drove the main story forward … with one exception. During Season 3, Syfy (then mercifully known as the SciFi Network) tried to make the show more viewer friendly, which translates to more episodic. See, the reason networks used to hate serialized stories is that while they tend to keep early fans watching, they make it difficult for new fans to get into shows because of all the backstory they’ve missed. SciFi wanted Season 3 to be easier to get involved which, resulting in a season which, while it has some major highs (New Caprica and the Adama Maneuver, anyone?) it also resulted in some disjointed episodes that feel unfocused and unconnected to the larger story.

If this had been the series modus operandi from the start, nothing would have seemed amiss. As it was, the change was jarring. Fortunately, the fourth and final season was allowed to close out the show (once, again that this was the final season was planned in advance) on the show-runners terms. For the record, I enjoyed both BSG’s and Lost’s controversial endings. The lesson we can take from this is that whatever precedent you set between installments, it is best to keep to it throughout the run of your series.

A serialized approach to storytelling is a great way to grab viewers (or readers) early and make sure they stay invested. That said, there are pitfalls to the approach as well as benefits to working in some episodic elements as well.

About the Author: Gregory D. Little

Rocket scientist by day, fantasy and science fiction author by night, Gregory D. Little began his writing career in high school when he and his friend wrote Star Wars fanfic before it was cool, passing a notebook around between (sometimes during) classes. His first novel, Unwilling Souls, is available now from ebook retailers and trade paperback through Amazon.com. His short fiction can be found in The Colored Lens, A Game of Horns: A Red Unicorn Anthology, and the upcoming Dragon Writers Anthology. He lives in Virginia with his wife and their yellow lab.

You can reach him at his website (www.gregorydlittle.com), his Twitter handle (@litgreg) or at his Author Page on Facebook.