Category Archives: The Fictorians

Whether we know it or not, we all respond to resonance in story telling. “What’s resonance?” you ask. To borrow from David Farland’s wonderful novel, Drawing on the Power of Resonance in Writing,

All successful writers use resonance to enhance their stories by drawing power from stories that came before, by resonating with their readers’ experiences, and by resonating within their own works.

Farland, David (2012-12-09). Drawing on the Power of Resonance in Writing (Kindle Locations 79-82). . Kindle Edition.

We feel powerful emotions when we read a book that somehow resembles other works that we love.

Farland, David (2012-12-09). Drawing on the Power of Resonance in Writing (Kindle Locations 100-101). . Kindle Edition.

So, what are you going to do when you want to start fresh for one of the most popular franchises ever? Tell your own story, but make sure it resonates with what came before. Star Trek: Into Darkness excels at this.

SPOILER ALERT: THIS POST TALKS IN DETAIL ABOUT STAR TREK: INTO DARKNESS THERE WILL BE SPOILERS SO IF YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW, STOP READING NOW. I’LL FORGIVE YOU. GO WATCH THE MOVIE AND COME BACK.

You have been warned.

Love or hate the rebooted Star Trek, you have to admire the talent that went behind creating it. The first movie set the franchise on its head. Star Trek: Into Darkness continues this seeming disregard for the prior Star Trek universe, but if you dissect the movie, you can tell that isn’t the case.

Let me start with an apology. Because Into Darkness is still in theatres, I’m sure I didn’t catch all the references. For some reasons, the people in the seats near mine objected to my flashlight and incessant note taking. But I think my barely legible notes will do well to illustrate the masterful use of resonance in this movie.

Star Trek: Into Darkness starts with a scene that could have been left on the cutting room floor from Raiders of the Lost Arc. Kirk and Bones have stolen a cultural icon, one they aren’t even sure what it is, and are being chased by angry spear wielding natives. See, the similarity to Raiders? No? Substitute Trek’s white-skinned natives for the dark-skinned ones in Raiders and the scroll from Trek with the little gold statue Indy steals before the rock comes rolling down. While Kirk and Bones don’t jump into a plane and fly away. they do swim down to the Enterprise and fly away.

What does director J.J. Abrams get from starting like this? A couple of things. He’s setting himself apart from the Trek movies that have come before. He’s also promising us that this Trek will be an action adventure movie in space. Abrams resoundingly delivers on this promise.

Even with his apparent disregard for the prior Trek universe (you know, the one he blew up), Abrams constantly refers back to it. One of the challenges Abrams has with his reboot is giving us characters that resemble, at least at first, the ones we know and love from the original Star Trek, and then developing them in a new direction based on the universe changes. But some truths remain constant. Kirk remains a womanizer. Bones isn’t keen on transporters.

When Kirk, Spock and Uhura need to go to Cronos, the Klingon home world, they take two security officers. Those officers happen to be the bullies who beat up Kirk in the first reboot before Christopher Pike convinces Kirk to join Star Fleet. The ship they take is from the “Mudd incident.” Harry Mudd, of course, featured heavily in the original series. In Season 1, Episode 6, Mudd’s Women, and Season 2, Episode 8, I, Mudd, the irrascable conman, Harry Mudd plagues Kirk and his crew. The quick one line encompasses two of the original Trek episodes.

When they arrive at Cronos. we see that the moon. Praxis, has already exploded. Even though Abrams has foreclosed a remake of Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered County by already having the moon explode, he references the prior movie. The audience already knows why the moon exploded, and Into Darkness doesn’t have to delve into that bit of history.

The Klingons themselves call back to the Star Trek Next Generation ones. There is a similarity in design, but makeup designer Neville Page takes them up a level. These Kilngons are even more kick butt, not that I had thought that possible until I saw these. The gold accents to the skull ridges makes them an edgier version.

Bones experiments on a dead tribble. Who can forget the tribbles and the trouble they caused in The Trouble with Tribbles, Season 2, Episode 15? Because this is a reboot, rather than the plague the tribbles were in the original series, a tribble saves the day, sort of.

Of course, the biggest reveal and resonance in the story is…

BONUS SPOILER ALERT: Really if you haven’t seen the movie yet, don’t read past this point.

…that the villain, thought to be a rouge Star Fleet member, is actually Khan Noonien Singh. Khan is probably the most love nemesis from the original series and movies. Khan first appeared in Season 1, Episode 22’s Space Seed, and who could forget the movie: Star Trek, Wrath of Khan?

Once Khan’s identity is revealed there is a logical and inevitable progression to a scene that could have been twisted right out of Wrath of Khan. Twisted, but still almost beat for beat the same.

Kirk faces the Kobayashi Maru situation when the Dreadnaught class ship pounds Enterprise. His ship is crippled and his crew about to be exterminated. It’s a scenario he’s cheated in both the original Trek and the reboot. This time he doesn’t get to cheat. He loses.

Abrams doesn’t let you forget that this is an action adventure movie in space. The dying Enterprise’s engines finally rebooting, the ship falls through the clouds. You can hear the squawk of chatter as Spock tries to get Enterprise airworthy again. The camera stays above the cloud bank. Then a triumphant Enterprise roars through the clouds and gains altitude. While Abrams didn’t have the ship silhouetted by the moon, like they did with the Batplane in Batman, the resonance rings true. We know what’s coming. A kick butt fight between the hero and villain. Again, Abrams delivers.

Even the final moments of the movie refers to other ones. There’s a paraphrasing of a The Princess Bride quote, though I was really hoping for the actual quote; “You’ve been mostly dead…” Still, Bones came close enough. And of course, the movie ends with the Enterprise starting its 5 year journey to boldly go where no one has gone before.

Abrams’ careful interweaving of elements of the prior Trek Universe into his reboot has me looking forward to the next installment of the new franchise.

The Take Home: Resonance matters. It is probably the most compelling tool we have in our writer’s tool box. So, how do you successfully retell a classic? By paying intentional homage to what came before. If the story is too “new” your audience will reject it. By carefully weaving elements of what came before into the new story, you give the readers a frame of reference, make them certain promises, and give them a comfort zone from which to relax and launch themselves into your retelling of a classic.

Inspiration through Conflict

July 6, 2013

fictorians

Guest Posts 4 Comments

A guest post by Jace Sanders.

When I was sixteen, I stood atop my desk surrounded by those considered to be my peers. Everyday in Honors English I felt like a fraud; the other students were much smarter than I. But standing on my desk at that moment, I saw the world differently. I felt inspired, but even more so, I felt like I could inspire. I wanted to excel in academics, to become a scholar. The notion seemed far-fetched at the time, being that my father was a college dropout and his father never attended high school. I resolved to be the first in my paternal line to graduate from a university. Carpe diem.

The inspiration came from watching Dead Poets Society. It was the first time I remember crying during a film. I found that Neil’s tragic suicide left a void in my mind. I craved an alternate resolve-a happy ending. My mind returned again and again to the plot, as if trying to prevent the suicide by working into the story a phone call to Neil’s father or an intervention by Mr. Keating. If only.

Conflict is all around us: in nature, music, relationships, science, math, and life. It can be found everywhere. Through conflict we discover greatness. In writing, without conflict there is no plot, there is no protagonist, and there is no story.

In music, conflict is called dissonance. It is said that Mozart’s father would wake up his son by playing a dissonant chord (a dominant seventh) on the piano. Invariably, Mozart would have to resolve the chord, changing the 7th to the 8th, completing the octave and putting his world in balance.

We crave resolution. Through our choices we seek to resolve hundreds, if not thousands of conflicts each and every day.

In writing, resolution doesn’t necessarily mean that everything is wrapped up nice with a pretty bow on top. At the end of Dead Poets Society, after Neil’s death, and Keating’s termination, the group of young men are faced with a choice-a conflict. They can either continue to let others tell them what to think, or they can seize the day and think for themselves. It started with Todd, the protagonist. He chose, under threat of expulsion, to defy the temporary professor by standing on his desk, facing Mr. Keating, and proclaiming, “Oh Captain! My Captain!” The act inspired a dozen other young men to follow.

At the end of the movie, we don’t know if the students were expelled or if any consequences followed their stunt. As a teenager, my mind wanted confirmation that everything turned out okay. I wanted to know that their lives were better off. The ending doesn’t give me any such assurance, only hope.

The real resolution, and the power of this story, is in the courage and resolve of the Dead Poet’s Society to think for themselves and look at the world in a different way, from another vantage point.

The suicide, though tragic, is a resolution. Neil escaped the conflict between him and his father. The poignant scene is slow and methodical. Even though I know how it ends, I still yearn for a change to Neil’s ritual as he prepares to take his life. I think of the man he could become, but I think in vain. The event hangs out there like a dissonant chord needing to be resolved. As I watch the tragedy unfold, I look for resolution outside of the images I see. I reflect on those people I know who may struggle to follow their heart amidst opposition. I am inspired to find opportunities to make that needed phone call, to offer that hand, to share a kind word and maybe prevent a similar tragedy.

About a year after watching Dead Poets Society, I saw such an opportunity. A friend, who had lost her brother in an accident, seemed to be having an unusually rough day. After pursuing my inclination, she admitted to having taken a handful of pills and was on her way to the bathroom to finish the bottle.

The voice of author Tracy Hickman occasionally pops into my head, asking the question, “Why do I write?” A dramatic pause follows and then I answer, “To inspire.”

I have been inspired by happy and sad endings, and endings in between. Those stories that have inspired me most are those whose endings hang out there like a dissonant chord that only I can resolve.

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Jace Sanders lives in Arizona with his wife and five children. In addition to writing, he enjoys music, photography, and anything outdoors. He holds a Masters in Business Administration from Utah State University and works for a biotech company.

The Art of Taking It Slow

July 5, 2013

Evan Braun

Character Craft & Skills Evan Braun Reviews 4 Comments

I first saw Meet Joe Black in my senior year of high school, and I hadn’t expected to enjoy it. A big group of friends had gathered at someone’s house on a day off to watch a movie and just hang out. I remember feeling a bit disappointed by the film selection because it had been chosen by the girls and it had the definite air of a chick flick. Just look at that cover! Plus, it was long-a VHS release split into two tapes! Who needs that?

But as the movie began to play, I found myself transfixed. (Without a doubt, a key ingredient was the amazing Thomas Newman score, which I happen to be listening to as I write this piece). Not only did I unexpectedly enjoy the movie, but I was deeply influenced by it. It taught me some big lessons which have served me well to this day.

Meet Joe Black is one of those love-it-or-hate-it kind of films. The critical consensus, according to Rotten Tomatoes is that it is “glacially slow, uneventful.” Though personally I think anyone who says the movie is uneventful simply couldn’t have seen the same movie I did. Maybe it has something to do with expectations. If you’re expecting a fun romantic romp, you might be enraged. If you’re expecting a deep and contemplative look at philosophy and mortality-or at least open to such an experience-then you’re in for a treat.

Here’s what Meet Joe Black does so exquisitely well: it explores characters in a way that I see usually reserved for novels. The characters are given long, extended sequences in which they get to really chew the cud. Uneventful? Not in my book. The film gives the characters time to mine the depths of who they are, what they want, their strengths, their flaws, their secret desires… and all of this in a deeply spiritual context.

This movie has a fascinating metaphysical premise. Death goes about his business, day in and day out, ferrying souls from the world of the living to whatever is on the other side (the movie graciously doesn’t concern itself with this detail), before deciding to take a holiday by entering the mortal plane to learn more about life and what it means-and why souls are so reluctant to leave it. To this end, Death takes the form of a recently deceased young man (played to perfection by Brad Pitt in one of his best roles) and assumes his life. But Death’s stay on the earth is temporary, for he has a job to do-collect the soul of a wealthy New York business magnate, Bill Parrish (Anthony Hopkins, also at the top of his game), who is about to celebrate his sixty-fifth birthday-before returning with his new charge to the River Styx.

That’s a loaded premise, and Meet Joe Black doesn’t take any shortcuts. It’s gonna take some time to explore this idea to the fullest, and the film, with a running time of over three hours, goes about its juicy task with proficiency, if not efficiency. So many stories are rushing around to get from A to B, to simplify big and complicated ideas into bite-sized morsels. Meet Joe Black demonstrates that you can take the time to smell the roses by investigating every aspect of your story, from premise to setting to character, without sacrificing anything.

One of the symptoms of this-which is either praised or maligned, depending on your opinion of the film-is that although the characters have long dialogue scenes with each other, they are not always talking. This movie doesn’t have much in the way of “chatter.” The conversations breathe. They have a unique cadence which I haven’t seen duplicated anywhere else. Sometimes the characters are silent for long stretches of time-but the communication that happens in those silence is enough to fill pages and pages. There’s so much subtext. For a film, it’s tremendously literate. There are scenes with dialogue that might be able to fill a single page of script, but the movie explores those beats for entire minutes. Yes, this should be uneventful on film, but instead it’s strangely masterful. It’s beautiful. It’s moving.

In the midst of my stories, I take this cue from Meet Joe Black very seriously. Sometimes you just can’t-or at least, shouldn’t-rush things. Let the moments play out, let the characters dance around a little bit, let the subtext take center stage. Doing so can take storylines that seem merely perfunctory on the surface and transform them into intensely meaningful examinations of human character.

The Take Home: From time to time, in this fast-paced writing market, don’t be afraid to take it slow.

What I Found in Forrester

July 4, 2013

fictorians

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A guest post by Victoria D. Morris.

I attend a lot of movies. I appreciate what they bring to the world artistically, and visually. I especially appreciate them when they touch the core of who I am. And when they do that unexpectedly, they join my personal collection.

Finding Forrester is one such movie.

For the most part, I consider myself two different fans. One, the reader. The one who can’t put a great book down until it’s finished, even if that means it’s 3:00 a.m. with the alarm set to blare at me not four hours later. Because that was a darn good book.

And then there is the movie fan. She can’t wait for all those stories she loves on the page to come to life on the big screen. She wants to see all the wonder, hear all the emotion, and taste the magic.

She watches differently than she reads. You have to, really. No screenwriter-and I love so many of them-can take a book and put it on a screen exactly the same. Because they read it differently than I do, even differently than its author did. Than any reader does! But they always, always try their best to tell a good story.

I had no expectations walking into the theatre to see Finding Forrester. It was a movie-day out with my best friend. Watching movies is one of my favorite hobbies. Particularly since I’d moved out of state, these special treats were few and far between.

We sat down together, laughing, enjoying each other’s company, until the previews started. Then the first bits of rap were performed during the opening scenes… and I was instantly transported, through my own life, back into one of the roughest neighborhoods in the city where I was born, where I grew up and found ways to beat back the hardship and scariness of drive-by shootings and crack houses.

But Finding Forrester didn’t scare me. Nor did it threaten to be “that sort” of story. It showed, quite brilliantly to my eyes, how someone-anyone with any kind of talent-could escape unhappy surroundings to find their true place. Their true happy ending.

It showed, too, that hard work is most certainly needed, but also that dreams could come true. Even dreams that you didn’t know you had.

The movie ended, and I couldn’t contain the emotion. I was in tears as the credits rolled. The story had taken me on a visit home, showed me the inner secrets of my heart. The secrets buried there, the ones I’d barely begun to discover, had always been a deep and encompassing part of me.

What kind of storytelling lesson did I learn from the big screen? Finding Forrester taught me that I could be the writer I am becoming. Before seeing that movie, I’d written sporadically throughout my life to help get through difficult emotions. I wrote poems and short stories that sat in dusty drawers as far away from my mind as my imagination had drifted during years of hard corporate world work that moved me physically away from that rough neighborhood.

And after? I’ve completed several novels. Even more short stories. Poems come flying out for the craziest of reasons. Some happy, some sad, but all of them one step closer to reaching a goal so solid in my mind that it is physically visible all around me, moving me emotionally into the place where I could grow, build up, and withstand the riggers of a solitary writing career.

Finding Forrester started me on the path to becoming my most artistic self: the person I am today, and of whom I am by far proudest.

It very much earned a valued place among my digital collection. And watching it again for the purpose of this blog only reaffirmed that.

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Victoria D. Morris lives with her family in the Pacific NorthWest on the edge of a magnificent fairy forest surrounded by mountains. As both writing and art have been integral to her life up to this point, she is unable to decided which comes first. She recently found work as a professional editor to be equally rewarding. Follow Victoria’s website for further adventures and to see where Destiny takes her next.