Monthly Archives: August 2024

Crisis and Climax

Let’s talk about one of the most important ingredients in storytelling – the link between the crisis and the climax. The climax of your story is the moment everything has been leading up to, but without a well-crafted crisis, that climax might fall flat, ruining your story. In this article, we’ll explore four characteristics that will help you write the crisis and climax of your story as a unit. To illustrate, we’ll be using a popular episode from The Umbrella Academy.

1. The Ultimate Challenge

The first principle is that the crisis ought to be the ultimate challenge that your characters face. It’s the moment when they’re backed into a corner, forced to confront their deepest fears or greatest obstacles. In The Umbrella Academy, Season 2, Episode 10, The End of Something, the crisis occurs when the Hargreeves siblings face off against The Handler and the agents of the Commission. Vanya, who has struggled with controlling her powers throughout the series, is now the key to stopping the apocalypse. The crisis here is not just about fighting external enemies but also about Vanya overcoming her own inner turmoil. The ultimate challenge is clear: Can they stop the apocalypse, and can Vanya control her powers without losing herself? This crisis sets the stage for the explosive climax that follows.

2. Escalate the Stakes

The second principle is that the crisis should escalate the stakes to their highest level. Everything in the story has been building toward this moment, and the crisis is where the full weight of those stakes comes crashing down. In the same episode of The Umbrella Academy, the stakes are high indeed—if the siblings fail, the world ends. But it’s not just about saving the world; it’s also about saving each other. The crisis forces siblings to confront their own personal stakes—whether it’s Klaus grappling with his fear of leadership, or Five dealing with the consequences of his time travelling escapades. The escalation of stakes manifest in the crisis makes the subsequent climax not only necessary, but also deeply satisfying for the audience.

3. Reveal Character(s)

The third principle is that the crisis ought to reveal who your characters truly are. In moments of extreme pressure, true character is revealed. The crisis, therefore, should force your characters to make choices that show their growth—or lack of it. In The Umbrella Academy, Vanya’s decision to embrace her powers and trust her siblings is a pivotal moment of character revelation. Throughout the series, Vanya has struggled with feelings of alienation and fear of her abilities. The crisis forces her to choose: Will she continue to fear herself, or will she accept who she is and use her powers to help save the world? Her decision not only drives the climax but also completes her character arc, making the climax more impactful.

4. The Crisis and Climax should be Inseparable

The final principle ensures that the crisis and climax are so interdependent that they cannot exist without each other. The crisis catapults the story directly into the climax, with no room or time for the tension to dissipate. In The End of Something, the struggle against The Handler and the Commission flows seamlessly into the climax—Vanya’s unleashing of her full power to stop the apocalypse. The crisis and climax are inseparable; the crisis arising from whether Vanya can control her power leads directly into the climax of her having to use that power to save the world. This connection between crisis and climax keeps the audience on the edge of their seats and ensures that the climax delivers maximum emotional impact.

Summary

A good crisis leads to a great climax. Write a crisis that challenges your characters, escalates the stakes, reveals their true selves, and flows seamlessly into the climax to create a story that resonates with your audience. The Umbrella Academy shows mastery of this dynamic, with a crisis that leads to an unforgettable climax.

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Writing Dramatic Irony

Today we’re exploring one of the most powerful tools in storytelling: dramatic irony. This narrative device has been used for centuries to create tension, evoke emotion, and deepen the audience’s immersion in the story. To illustrate how we can effectively use dramatic irony in our own writing, we’ll be analysing the film The Truman Show. This 1998 classic, directed by Peter Weir, and starring Jim Carrey, offers deep insights into how to create dramatic irony in narratives. To that end, we’ll identify five crucial principles to help us achieve this.

1. Establish the Deception

The first step in creating dramatic irony is to establish the deception or misunderstanding within the story. In The Truman Show, the entire premise rests on deception. Truman Burbank, the protagonist, lives his life unaware that his entire existence is a reality TV show, broadcast to millions around the world. The audience, however, is in on the secret from the start. This disparity in knowledge is the foundation of the dramatic irony. As a writer, it’s crucial to show the reader or viewer what the protagonist does not know. Whether the deception is deliberate, like in The Truman Show, or accidental, the key is to make the audience aware of the truth, setting the stage for the dramatic irony to unfold.

2. Immerse the Protagonist in the Deception

Once you’ve established the deception, the next step is to place the protagonist squarely within this misleading situation, keeping him or her oblivious to the truth. Truman is surrounded by actors who play the roles of his family, friends, and neighbors, all of whom work to maintain the illusion of his false reality. Despite various clues that something isn’t quite right, Truman remains largely unaware of the true nature of his world. This creates a sense of tension and anticipation, as the audience knows the truth and watches Truman navigate a life built on lies. The more deeply the protagonist is immersed in the deception, the more intense the dramatic irony becomes. In your writing, consider how you can immerse your protagonist in a situation where he is the only one who is in the dark, heightening the stakes and drawing your audience further into the story.

3. Let the Audience Witness the Consequences

Dramatic irony truly shines when the audience is allowed to witness the consequences of the protagonist’s ignorance. In The Truman Show, we see Truman’s life unfold in a way that’s both heartbreaking and darkly humorous. He suffers the consequences of actions and events orchestrated by the show’s producers, all while believing he’s living a normal life. The audience is aware of the manipulation, and this knowledge creates a powerful emotional response. We feel a mix of sympathy, frustration, and even dread as Truman unknowingly walks into situations that could unravel his world. In your own stories, think about how you can play out scenes where the protagonist’s misunderstanding or lack of knowledge leads to significant consequences. This not only engages the audience but also deepens their emotional investment in the story.

4. Use Dramatic Irony to Build Toward a Revelation

One of the most satisfying aspects of dramatic irony is the eventual revelation, where the protagonist finally learns the truth. In The Truman Show, this moment is a powerful climax. After years of living in ignorance, Truman begins to piece together the reality of his situation. The tension that has been building throughout the film reaches its peak as Truman’s suspicions grow, leading to the unforgettable moment when he discovers the edge of his fabricated world. As a writer, you can use dramatic irony to build toward this kind of revelation, carefully layering clues and escalating the tension until the truth is revealed. This creates a cathartic experience for both the protagonist and the audience, making the story’s resolution all the more impactful.

5. Exploit Dramatic Irony to Explore Deeper Themes

Finally, dramatic irony can be a powerful tool for exploring deeper themes within your story. InThe Truman Show, the dramatic irony not only serves to entertain but also to comment on issues of privacy, reality, and free will. Truman’s journey from ignorance to awareness mirrors our own struggles with these themes in the real world. By using dramatic irony, you can add layers of meaning to your story, prompting your audience to think more critically about the issues at play. Whether you’re writing about societal norms, personal relationships, or existential questions, dramatic irony can help you delve into these topics in a way that is both engaging and thought-provoking.

Summary

Five crucial points, then, on how to use dramatic irony in your writing, illustrated through the lens of The Truman Show. By establishing deception, immersing your protagonist in it, letting the audience witness the consequences, building toward a revelation, and leveraging the irony to explore deeper themes, you can create stories that are not only compelling but also resonate on a deeper level.

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The Central Speech

Today we’re exploring a fascinating storytelling technique – the central speech that reveals who a character, whether its the protagonist or antagonist, truly is. This isn’t just any speech—it’s a moment that drills down to the core of your character, not only through the words spoken but also through the subtext, the gaps, and the delivery. And to illustrate this, let’s look at one of the most iconic speeches in film history: Colonel Jessup’s ‘You can’t handle the truth!’ from A Few Good Men.

The film is a courtroom drama that builds up to a climactic moment where Tom Cruise’s character, Lt. Daniel Kaffee, confronts Colonel Nathan Jessup, played by Jack Nicholson. Kaffee’s been trying to uncover the truth behind the death of a Marine, and Jessup’s testimony is crucial. In a high-tension exchange, Jessup explodes with the now-famous line, ‘You can’t handle the truth!’ But this outburst is more than just a memorable quote—it’s a window into Jessup’s character and the film’s central themes. So let’s break down what this speech reveals and how it uses camouflaged exposition to do so.

1. The Words Reveal the Character’s Philosophy

Firstly, let’s talk about the obvious: the words themselves. Jessup’s speech lays bare his worldview—a harsh, unapologetic belief in the necessity of tough decisions to maintain order. He believes in a clear, almost brutal hierarchy where the ends justify the means. When he says, ‘You can’t handle the truth,’ he’s not just addressing Kaffee, but the entire system that he feels doesn’t understand the brutal realities of the world he operates in. Jessup sees himself as the protector of a fragile society, doing what others can’t or won’t do. Through his words, the audience gets a direct insight into his moral code, which, while twisted, is internally consistent. This is crucial for any central speech—use it to reveal the protagonist’s, or in this case, the antagonist’s, core beliefs.

2. Subtext: What’s Left Unsaid

But a powerful speech isn’t just about what’s said—it’s also about what’s left unsaid. Jessup’s speech is full of subtext. He talks about defending the country, but there’s an undercurrent of disdain for those who question his methods. His words suggest that he feels underappreciated, even persecuted, for the sacrifices he believes he’s made. The subtext here is a mix of arrogance and resentment, emotions that are only hinted at but never fully expressed. This is a great example of camouflaged exposition—where the true feelings of a character are conveyed between the lines. When writing your own central speech, think about what your character might be holding back. What emotions or thoughts are they struggling to keep under control? That tension adds depth and intrigue.

”The truth? You can’t handle the truth!”

3. Delivery and Demeanour

Now, let’s talk about the delivery. Jessup’s words are powerful, but it’s Nicholson’s performance that makes them unforgettable. His calm, almost condescending tone at the start contrasts sharply with the explosive anger that follows. His demeanor is a mix of controlled authority and barely-contained fury. This change in tone reflects the internal conflict within Jessup—he’s a man who believes in his own righteousness but is also deeply frustrated by those who challenge him. The way characters deliver their speech reveals the hidden layers of personality—are they calm and collected, or do they crack under pressure? Are they confident, or is their bravado a cover for insecurity? In your own writing, consider how the manner in which a speech is delivered can convey more about what is meant rather than what the words denote on the surface.

4. The Reaction of Others

Lastly, let’s not stress the importance of the other characters’ reactions. In A Few Good Men, the reactions of the courtroom—especially Kaffee—are crucial to understanding Jessup’s speech. Kaffee’s shock and determination show that he’s not cowed by Jessup’s tirade, but instead, he’s motivated to dig even deeper. The audience sees Jessup as powerful, but also as someone who’s finally been cornered. The reactions of others in the scene help to highlight the true nature of the protagonist—whether it’s the protagonist themselves delivering the speech, or someone else reacting to it. When you’re writing a central speech in your story, think about how other characters will respond. Their reactions can reinforce or contradict what the protagonist is saying, adding another layer of complexity to the scene.

Summary

So, there you have it, four key points on how a central speech can reveal who your character really is. Remember: it’s not just about the words, but also about their subtext, their delivery, and the reactions of those around them.

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Does your writing jump off the page?

Superlative writing in The Spire. — Superlative writing in *The Spire*.

How do we express our stories in language that is powerful, evocative, and captivating? How do we come up with those turns of phrase, descriptions, dialogue, and insights that readers will remember long after the story has ended?

So much goes into crafting a memorable story. Some aspects are initially hidden from view and only emerge as the story progresses—solid structure, vibrant characters, theme, setting, pace, voice, mood, and insight.

Others, such as striking physical and psychological descriptions, memorable smilies and metaphors, and word choice, however, are immediately apparent.

A good writer knows when to dazzle us with exotic and colourful words and when to use a more subtle vocabulary in order to let something else shine through. A gifted writer is like a gifted conductor, painter or sculptor—colouring and molding every detail to a greater purpose—now drawing our attention to one aspect, now to another.

Today I want to point to what is perhaps the easiest skill to spot—the accomplished use of language.

Examples in stories are as innumerable as they are varied, so my brief selection is personal.

Here is the opening paragraph of The Spire by William Golding, a story about how a man’s obsession leads to destruction. Dean Jocelyn, the Dean of his cathedral, is obsessed with building a four hundred foot tall spire. The result is that he bankrupts his church, alienates his brethren and pressures the master builder to continue the folly, with devastating consequences. But the start of it all seems bright and auspicious:

“He was laughing, chin up, and shaking his head. God the Father was exploding in his face with a glory of sunlight through painted glass, a glory that moved with his movements to consume and exalt Abraham and Isaac and then God again. The tears of laughter in his eyes made additional spokes and wheels and rainbows.”

Words such as ‘laughing, chin up’, ‘God…exploding in his face…glory of sunlight…’ exhibit Jocelyn’s almost maniacal joy stemming from his impossible project. The last line of the paragraph, however, hints at the hallucinatory, deluded nature of his vision: ‘The tears of laughter in his eyes made additional spokes and wheels and rainbows.’ Jocelyn sees the world, in other words, through the subjective prism of his obsession, and this distorts his judgment. This distortion is hinted at by the line: ‘… adding additional spokes and wheels and rainbows’ to his vision.

”You should strive to achieve writing that jumps of the page.”

Next, here are some arresting lines from Paul Harding’s first novel, Tinkers, which won the Pulitzer for literature in 2010. There is something magical about Harding’s use of language that transcends space and time and makes it truly universal. He starts his book with the lines:

“GEORGE WASHINGTON CROSBY BEGAN TO hallucinate eight days before he died. From the rented hospital bed, placed in the middle of his own living room, he saw insects running in and out of imaginary cracks in the ceiling plaster.”

A little later, Harding gives us this surreal description of Gorge’s world tearing open, as he prepares for death.

“The roof collapsed, sending down a fresh avalanche of wood and nails, tar paper and shingles and insulation. There was the sky, filled with flat-topped clouds, cruising like a fleet of anvils across the blue. George had the watery, raw feeling of being outdoors when you are sick. The clouds halted, paused for an instant, and plummeted onto his head. The very blue of the sky followed, draining from the heights into that cluttered concrete socket. Next fell the stars, tinkling about him like the ornaments of heaven shaken loose. Finally, the black vastation itself came untacked and draped over the entire heap, covering George’s confused obliteration.”

This language, dealing with the characters approaching death, is evocative, poetic, almost hallucinatory, yet concrete. How can we not want to know more?

In my own novella, The Nostalgia of Time Travel, the protagonist, a physicist, named Benjamin Vlahos, agonises over his failure to travel back in time in order to correct an error he committed that cost his wife her life. His pained state of mind is conveyed to the reader through metaphors and concrete language:

“Sometimes, I wonder what it must be like to be a subatomic particle existing for the briefest of moments; all the joy and pain of birth and death compressed between the two staccato ticks of that relentless hand. At other times I imagine a scaled-down version of myself, living on the surface of the watch, fighting against the perpetual ticking of that fearsome engine. I imagine gripping the watch’s hands in my bleeding fists, my arms extended, my body and head thrust forward, my legs bent and wide apart, until I stop the hands from ticking, and force them back, back to that moment on the Sydney pier when I stopped to buy my last pack of cigarettes, while Miranda stood on the pavement smiling brightly back at me.”

Words such as ‘joy and pain’, ’fearsome engine’, ’bleeding fists’, and ‘body and head thrust forward’, and ‘bleeding’ paint an almost heroic struggle against the effects of time. Ultimately, Benjamin, despite being a theoretical physicist, opts for art, not science, to come to terms with his pain, guilt and loss. This realisation is compressed into a series of simple questions:

“Isn’t everything worth knowing squeezed inside the kernel of a story? All that’s ever been written, sang and spoken, pressed into a single pearl? The story is our raft when old age casts us out to sea; the logs are the memories, the ropes are the love and kindness we have shared. Can my equations ever be that?”

Here, the significance of the stories we tell ourselves to make sense of our lives, is suggested as being something precious, like a pearl. But like a pearl, which grows from a grain of sand in the flesh of the oyster, wisdom grows through effort and pain—caused by a life which has cast us out to sea.

Despite our competing narratives and cultures, our disagreements over who is right and who is wrong, the story is our raft, our only hope for survival as a species—if only we could let love and kindness bind us all together. We are, after all, a resilient species that keeps trying to get things right, despite our failures.

I’ll end with this hopeful, last paragraph from Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby:

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther… And one fine morning — So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

Summary
Use evocative, memorable language in your writing, including apt figures of speech to convey the powerful insights and wisdom in your stories. Your writing will be better for it.

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