Deeper and Deeper
In Madonna's #2 Billboard hit Deeper and Deeper, she echoes Julie Andrews in saying "When you know the notes to sing, you can sing most anything." And this, I realized, was how I approach creating stories.
The "notes" I refer to involve the amount of background material I gather for most aspects of a story concept I have in mind. When a concept hits me and I decide that it would make a great story, I do sporadic research and make a mind map in my head. If you didn't already know, a mind map is an organizing tool akin to thought training. But instead of a "train of thought," you're creating a "network of related thoughts."
As I build this network of thoughts, ideas for plots come about, and it becomes a matter of finding the best plot and the best subplots, and linking them into a story framework that intrigues me enough to make a follow-through. I also get launch points for building characters, their background, and how they'll figure into the story. I find this activity, the "story building," fun and frustrating at the same time.
It was only recently that I began to really focus on storybuilding, since the stuff I've done in the past had a rawness to them, especially with the short-story-and-not-a-graphic-novel One Night In Purgatory. Maybe it's that part of me that wants to up the ante, taking whatever I know to the next level. Here at work, the buzzword is buong-buo, placing importance in the completeness of a concept, and this is what I'm looking to achieve with the Zaturnnah sequel.
Sometimes, when I'm taking a coffee break, a character will tell me to change the way he or she says a certain line, or give me insight on why he or she would react in a different way in a given scene. Character would go, "I think my reaction here was a bit too much. I won't be that melodramatic." And then I'd ask, "Would you be more understated, and use sarcasm instead?" Character answers, "I know I'd be fuming, but I really like that original line you wrote. Maybe you can fix it just a bit and lessen the controtions on my face when you draw me. I'd think I'd be more frustrated than angry." Sometimes I'd agree, but more often I'd ask for a compromise, since I would need to manage the emotional flow across the story.
Yes, it can be a schizophrenic experience. But I find it to be more creatively rewarding, since I know I won't be stuck with two-dimensional characters. Moreso, with a flat plot. The deeper I go, the more possibilities I have.
Finished writing the second chapter. I'm excited.
The "notes" I refer to involve the amount of background material I gather for most aspects of a story concept I have in mind. When a concept hits me and I decide that it would make a great story, I do sporadic research and make a mind map in my head. If you didn't already know, a mind map is an organizing tool akin to thought training. But instead of a "train of thought," you're creating a "network of related thoughts."
As I build this network of thoughts, ideas for plots come about, and it becomes a matter of finding the best plot and the best subplots, and linking them into a story framework that intrigues me enough to make a follow-through. I also get launch points for building characters, their background, and how they'll figure into the story. I find this activity, the "story building," fun and frustrating at the same time.
It was only recently that I began to really focus on storybuilding, since the stuff I've done in the past had a rawness to them, especially with the short-story-and-not-a-graphic-novel One Night In Purgatory. Maybe it's that part of me that wants to up the ante, taking whatever I know to the next level. Here at work, the buzzword is buong-buo, placing importance in the completeness of a concept, and this is what I'm looking to achieve with the Zaturnnah sequel.
Sometimes, when I'm taking a coffee break, a character will tell me to change the way he or she says a certain line, or give me insight on why he or she would react in a different way in a given scene. Character would go, "I think my reaction here was a bit too much. I won't be that melodramatic." And then I'd ask, "Would you be more understated, and use sarcasm instead?" Character answers, "I know I'd be fuming, but I really like that original line you wrote. Maybe you can fix it just a bit and lessen the controtions on my face when you draw me. I'd think I'd be more frustrated than angry." Sometimes I'd agree, but more often I'd ask for a compromise, since I would need to manage the emotional flow across the story.
Yes, it can be a schizophrenic experience. But I find it to be more creatively rewarding, since I know I won't be stuck with two-dimensional characters. Moreso, with a flat plot. The deeper I go, the more possibilities I have.
Finished writing the second chapter. I'm excited.
Comments
Great art moves at its own pace. :)