You, page 2
There was a Scandinavian auto designer who had a pet monkey, a doctor who gave martinis to trick-or-treaters, a family of architects who would become modern masters, an old ballerina whose entire house was carpeted in pink shag, and a babysitter who went to Hollywood and became famous. On weekends my father would travel with his soccer team for away games. He’d often return with some sort of injury. The martini-drinking doctor would sew him up while Mom stirred the Kraft mac and cheese and talked on the phone to the neighbor we were convinced was a spy. It all felt normal.
When I was in fifth grade, a girl I had met in mime class (see: boundless sense of wonder) came home with me. She looked around our living room and kitchen. Her brow wrinkled. “Ruta, you live . . . here?” she asked.
Her reaction confused me. Was she referring to the fact that my dad spoke Lithuanian, I had a strange name, and I was living in Michigan?
“I was born in Detroit. I’m actually American,” I told her confidently.
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
What did she mean? And then I slowly understood. We were so insulated in our unique bubble. Our school was located within the subdivision. It was the first time I realized that maybe our home seemed odd to people who lived outside the neighborhood. Our kitchen wall featured a massive pop art illustration of a green hamburger. Our guest bathroom was painted glossy black and had a metallic print of Wonder Woman facing the toilet. We had tulip chairs and a bowl of white acrylic fruit. My father had created a silhouette portrait of his child—in neon.
My parents were conscientious and hardworking, but they were also interesting and expressive. Who signs their kid up for a mime class or builds an entire art installation for their son’s beer can collection? The other families in the neighborhood did similar things. No one was rich, but they were rich with creativity and curiosity. And together, the families hatched endless stories and wild plots.
What were you curious about? Did your parents or relatives have any peculiar hobbies? Was there a mime in the family or a neighbor with a monkey? Which house was the oddball in the neighborhood? Whose house did you long to live in? Whose house was the party house? Whose house had plastic covering the living room furniture, or rules to follow? Think about the marriages, divorces, accidents, scandals, and triumphs. What do you remember about your community, and can you weave any of it into your plot?
When building your plot, remember two of the most important words:
WHAT IF . . .
What if an unexpected package showed up on your doorstep?
What if it was leaking some sort of liquid that was staining the porch?
What if the name on the return address was someone you thought . . . was dead?
Think of the community you grew up in and start brainstorming what-ifs. Let your curiosity fly.
Of course, there are mixed opinions on curiosity. E. M. Forster said, “Curiosity is one of the lowest of the human faculties. You will have noticed in daily life that when people are inquisitive they nearly always have bad memories and are usually stupid at bottom.”
Maybe. But I prefer philosopher Piero Ferrucci’s angle: “In the hidden folds of our life, we can find forgotten or unsuspected treasures which we have not appreciated for want of time or attention. They are the gifts of life, some apparently banal, some special. If we are distracted, we miss them; if we notice them, we are happier.”
What resides in the hidden folds of your life? Shine light into those darker corners and see what you may find. Perhaps plot inspiration?
For your sake, I hope it’s not a mime.
Conflict Layers
WHEN YOU'RE CRAFTING YOUR PLOT, IT helps to weave in conflict layers along the way. Conflict creates tension and intrigue. Conflict can appear in several forms in your story:
CHARACTER VS. ANOTHER PERSON
CHARACTER VS. SELF
CHARACTER VS. SOCIETY
CHARACTER VS. NATURE
CHARACTER VS. TECHNOLOGY
CHARACTER VS. MEMORY
I’ll give you an example of conflict layers.
When I first began working in the music industry, I lived in Hollywood. I interned at a music management company and worked another job to make ends meet. Much of my time interning was spent in music clubs with the company’s artists and writers.
One night, a band from New York that the company represented was in town playing at the Whisky a Go Go on Sunset Boulevard. I’ll call them Band X. For the Whisky, this alternative band was unique at the time relative to the hair metal bands that frequented the club. They were irreverent, clever, and incredibly fun. And I loved them.
My job was to hang the band’s posters around the club. I did, happily. I was twenty-two, had a brand-new business degree and my first job in the music business. The world was grand.
The headlining band was annoyed by my efforts to promote the opening band and had someone tear down the posters. When I told my boss what happened, I was nervous. Sweating. I stood in the corner of the band’s dressing room while the guys complained that the headliners were pampered pricks. Their manager reminded them that their agent had pulled strings to get them this coveted opening spot at the Whisky, to play it cool, and not to repeat any of the previous episodes.
Previous episodes included being sued by Bozo the Clown, being jailed for obscenity, and the media reporting that Band X had chosen their name based on a phrase the singer scribbled down during his first shroom adventure.
CONFLICT LAYER 1
Prior episodes of conflict.
CONFLICT LAYER 2
A rivalry between bands.
CONFLICT LAYER 3
The agent had pulled favors to get them the gig. Raises the stakes. The other manager agreed and reminded the band that their previous arrest had put the drummer’s day job in jeopardy.
CONFLICT LAYER 4
The drummer’s day job? He was a cop. With the NYPD.
CONFLICT LAYER 5
Location rivalry. LAPD vs. NYPD. There were mutterings and complaints. Why not have a few cocktails to ease the tension?
CONFLICT LAYER 6
Alcohol. Why not? At some point, in the strange citrus dream that is Los Angeles, someone told us that the singer/satirist “Weird Al” Yankovic had arrived for the show and was a big fan of the band.
CONFLICT LAYER 7
Random celebrity who attracts press attention.
By the time the band took to the stage, liquid courage prevailed. The show was great. The audience loved it. Energy was high. And then, during the final song, the singer slowly peeled off his shirt.
A bit pasty, but no problem. Lots of front men take off their shirts, right?
And then the trouser button was popped. Underwear peeked out at the crowd.
One of the managers grabbed my arm.
The crowd hooted and cheered.
“No,” said the manager. “No, he won’t.”
Suddenly, Weird Al appeared onstage, put his leg behind his head, and began to pogo around while the front man dropped his pants and stood singing before us, in holy naked glory.
The audience stood, momentarily confused. Some cheered. Others shuddered. Someone chucked a beer at his crotch.
CONFLICT LAYER 8
Exposed genitals while people are throwing things.
The sound engineer grabbed a walkie-talkie. “Indecent exposure. Call the cops.”
CONFLICT LAYER 9
Indecent exposure is a crime, punishable by law. Arrest.
RETURN TO CONFLICT LAYER 5
Location rivalry. LAPD vs. NYPD.
Note how every step of the way, a conflict layer was added. After the show, the managers grabbed the band to flee, but CONFLICT LAYER 6—alcohol—complicated transportation. We couldn’t drive. We escaped to a hotel on the Sunset Strip and everyone hid in the bar. After a couple of rounds, I thought the ordeal had ended. I went to the restroom and a young woman who worked at the hotel eagerly asked if I was with Band X. “Is it them?”
I was so proud. Look at me, I’m a twenty-two-year-old Michigander in a fancy hotel on the Sunset Strip with a band that’s all over MTV. “Yes, it’s really them!” I whispered.
CONFLICT LAYER 10
Silly, starstruck intern who ruins everything.
Post-nudity episode, the band had fled to the hotel in hopes of remaining incognito. I eagerly confirmed their identity, and my eagerness resulted in, well, let’s just say . . . problems.
As you build your plot, you want to add conflict layers. Conflict layers add obstacles and interruptions.
What kind of conflict layers have you faced in your own life? Do you have any allergies, phobias, or adversaries? Think back on those memories. Can you thread any of them into your plot and characters to create conflict?
Inclement weather would have been a great conflict layer in the Band X story. It rarely rains in Los Angeles, and when it does, it seriously complicates everything.
But that night, a naive intern brought the storm.
And she never forgot it.
PLOT • RECAP
Revisit your childhood self and the stories that reside there.
Think back to your childhood home and community and how they shaped you. Whom or what did you love? Fear? Hate?
Look for examples of plot in diaries and personal archives.
Were there any families in your community who were their own encapsulated plot? Whose stories interested you?
Ask yourself the essential question: What does the character want?
Consider ways to ask engaging questions that set a scene or introduce conflict for your plot.
Review old emails, correspondence, and receipts for ideas. A thousand Ping-Pong balls?
Give thought to the curiosities and questions you still have.
Brainstorm conflict layers and build them into the story.
While building your plot, repeatedly ask, What if . . .
Identify your main character’s conflict. Is it with another person? Technology? Society?
Look through the ten plot questions on page 6 and think about how they might relate to your project.
PLOT • WRITING PROMPTS
You’re attending a high school assembly. The power suddenly snaps off and the gym is plunged into darkness. When the lights flicker back on, the teachers suddenly realize __________.
Fill in the blank and begin to create a plot.
You borrow a book from the city library. When you arrive home and begin reading, you find a one-hundred-dollar bill between the pages. Along the edge of the bill is written, Please help me, along with a phone number. Answer the following questions with as much detail as you can:
Who is the main character?
What does the character want?
What are some potential obstacles and conflict layers?
What if . . . ?
Write a fictional diary entry from the point of view of the person who finds the cash in the library book.
Select a photograph from a book or a magazine. Write three radically different story captions for the photo that contain details relating to plot and conflict layers.
Think of someone you’d like to meet or work with. Draft a list of creative, engaging questions for that person.
Stories to Uncover and Discover
The Camino de Santiago
Each year, thousands of people from around the world challenge themselves physically, spiritually, and culturally to walk the Camino de Santiago. A network of ancient pilgrim routes, the Camino spans over five hundred miles. Many walkers report the journey as one that inspires friendships, memories, self-discovery, and story.
Q: Where are the routes located?
Jimmy Hoffa
The disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa is one of the most intriguing American mobster mysteries. A notorious labor union leader with reported Mafia ties, Hoffa suddenly disappeared without a trace. Over the years, people have come forward with various plots. Some claim they witnessed Hoffa’s assassination, others confessed to burying him in a steel drum, and some swear he was entombed beneath Giants Stadium. But what’s the real story behind the mystery of Jimmy Riddle Hoffa?
Q: What year did Hoffa disappear and what are the latest updates on the case?
Mid-Century Modern
Mid-century modern (MCM) is an American design movement that inspired unique architecture and product design. The original movement spanned 1945–1969, but the styles remain popular. Although some associate MCM with male designers and architects such as Eames, Saarinen, and Bertoia, it was a woman—Florence Knoll—who remains one of the most influential contributors. Orphaned at age twelve and educated in Michigan, Florence Knoll became a pioneer of the modernist movement and a crusader against gendered stereotypes in design.
Q: What defines the look of a mid-century modern house?
Hair Metal
Hair metal describes the catchy, good-time rock melodies performed by bands who sported teased hair in a fog of hair spray in the mid-1980s and early 1990s. This was a pejorative term initially created to discredit the artists, but many bands in the hair metal category have endured and still have successful touring careers. This subgenre of rock and metal birthed many uproarious tales and entertaining plots.
Q: Who are some artists in the hair metal category?
CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT
Rhythm
A HUMAN BEING I’VE NEVER MET stands in front of me at a book signing.
“I’m sorry, but I have to ask. This character—it feels like you based this character on me. Did you?”
I’m intrigued but confused. “I’m so pleased that you identified with the character, but this is the first time we’ve met, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Yes. But I’ve always wanted to be in a book, and here I am in yours, well, in one of my past lives.”
Between Shades of Gray, my book the young woman is referring to, is set in Siberia in 1941.
“Do you believe in psychic phenomena?” she whispers.
I’ve had enough experience with parapsychology to know that I don’t have the gift. But I note the reader’s mannerisms and her pattern of speech, and I can immediately tell which character she feels she represents.
Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung presented concepts of what he termed archetypes—individual models that represent the structure of the human psyche. Jung believed that archetypes played a role in determining the personality. Twelve archetypes often associated with his work are:
THE INNOCENT
THE HERO
THE OUTLAW
THE EXPLORER
THE CREATOR
THE RULER
THE MAGICIAN
THE LOVER
THE EVERYMAN
THE JESTER
THE CAREGIVER
THE SAGE
Author Caroline Myss expanded upon the theory and presented more than seventy archetypes. Reviewing archetypes can certainly help create models for characters, but without specificity and rhythm, the characters will come across as flat, empty vessels.
Let’s take rhythm.
Every human being has their own rhythm. When people imitate us, what they’re imitating is our rhythmic patterns of speech, the rhythm of our movements, or the rhythm of a particular personality quirk we have. My mother had a unique rhythmic quirk—so unique that my friends remember it and can imitate it. Mom was legendary for her voicemail messages. The structure went like this:
Hi, love, it’s me. [Insert some terrible, horrible news + thought.] Buh-bye!
Hi, love, it’s me. Do you remember your eighth grade algebra teacher? He set himself on fire in his garage yesterday. Awful way to go. Buh-bye!
Hi, love, it’s me. A man in Ferndale drowned in his waterbed last night. Nasty things, waterbeds. Buh-bye!
Hi, love, it’s me. The organist at church was found dead in his trunk. Turns out he was a crack dealer. Buh-bye!
The rhythmic archetype? The Bearer of Bad News.
Every human being has specific quirks. Maybe they’re messy, a control freak, a gossip, a health nut, or maybe they’re beautifully chill and naive. How do those quirks manifest in their rhythms, speech, and habits? Whether you’re writing fiction, nonfiction, or a piece about your family history, show the reader the character’s quirks and personality. Show them, don’t tell them.
Example: an unpredictable person.
TELLING:
