Write Good or Die (2 page)

Now, here’s the Three-Act Structure
applied to the movie version of
The
Wizard of Oz
.

ACT ONE

In Act One we meet Dorothy, who is an obnoxious and
self-involved child who seems unable to recognize the existence of
beneficial relationships (with her aunt and nncle, the farm
workers, etc.) and doesn’t value these connections.

She is so self-absorbed that she fails to accept
that anyone else’s needs/wants matter, as demonstrated by the fact
that she is fully aware that her dog damages a neighbor’s garden
and doesn’t care. Actually, she may be mildly sociopathic because
she cannot grasp that “her” dog has done anything wrong and ignores
the fact that the dog’s lack of training is her own fault.

Dorothy ‘s whole focus is on what she feels she does
not have and what she deserves if only she can get to a better
place (in her view, on the other side of the rainbow). So, she’s
shallow, vain, sociopathic, and unlikable. A perfect character to
have at the start of a novel, since character growth is a primary
element of all good stories.

The crisis comes initially from pending consequences
from her dog’s vandalism. Then a big storm comes along and whisks
Dorothy away to another place where (a) she has killed her
antagonist through the proxy of a witch who chanced to be standing
where Dorothy’s house was landing; (b) everyone she meets is
substantially shorter, and therefore apparently inferior to her
–and her distorted self image; (c) a maternal figure appears and
tells her she’s special and that she has to go on a journey in
order to solve her dilemma; and (d) she gets cool shoes.Dorothy
steps out of Act I and into Act II when she places her ruby
slippers on the yellow brick road.

ACT TWO

In Act II, Dorothy begins a process of growth that
will expand her consciousness, increase her personal store of
experiences, help her develop meaningful relationships, and get her
the hell home.

When she meets the Scarecrow and learns that it can
talk and is in need of help, Dorothy has her first opportunity for
real character growth. Instead of bugging out of there (a choice
she may well have taken back home in Kansas), she helps the
Scarecrow down and even offers to share her adventure with him. If
the wizard she’s been told to find can help Dorothy get home, maybe
he could offer some assistance to someone in need of a brain. Off
they go to see the Wizard. Dorothy has performed her first selfless
act. She may not be beyond hope after all.

When the Scarecrow and Dorothy meet the Tin Man,
there is another opportunity to perform a selfless act of charity.
She does this; but this encounter also requires her to do some
problem solving. The oil can shows intelligence and practicality.
Good for her. Now she has helped two others in need, and at the
same time she has increased her circle of valuable friends. This
adds to her bank of useful experiences and also increases the odds
of success.

The three of them (and her little dog, too), then
encounter a frightening attack by a lion. In a real-world setting
this would end badly, except for the hungry lion. But in this
metaphorical tale, the lion is also a complex and damaged
individual whose violent nature is a cry for help. However Dorothy
doesn’t know this at first. The Lion attack and Dorothy stands
between this threat and her friends –and even attacks the Lion
(albeit with a slap across the chops). This is a brave act that is
selfless to the point of sacrifice. Dorothy is actually pretty cool
now. Hero Dorothy.

Luckily the Lion is a coward, and we see Dorothy
shift from attack to sympathy. Again this shows character growth in
the form of a refined insight into the needs of another. Dorothy,
now in the role of matriarchal clan leader, accepts the Lion into
her pack, and the four of them go off to see the wizard.

All through this the Wicked Witch of the West,
sister of the house-crushed Witch of the East, is after Dorothy and
her ruby slippers. We never truly learn why (a storytelling
shortfall explored later in novels and Broadway plays), but as a
threat the Wicked Witch is constant and pervasive. She is enough of
a threat that her presence, or the fear of how her anger might be
manifested, influences the actions of every character in the
story.

Dorothy and company overcome all obstacles and
finally make it to Oz, home of the Wizard. There they present their
case and the Wizard agrees to help but throws them a plot twist.
He’ll help only if Dorothy undertakes a quest to steal the broom of
the Wicked Witch. Dorothy, however reluctant, agrees.

This is huge. The Dorothy we met in Kansas not only
could not have accepted this mission; she would not have. However
the Dorothy who stands before the great and mighty Oz is a far more
evolved person who has benefited from adventures and experiences
that have revealed her own strengths, demonstrated the power of
friendship and collaborative effort, and basically served as a boot
camp for Hero Dorothy.

As Dorothy and company step out of the Emerald City
to begin this quest, they step out of Act Two and into…

ACT THREE

In Act III, Dorothy and her team covertly assault
the stronghold of the Wicked Witch. They formulate a master plan
and carry it through, albeit with some unforeseen complications (we
love complications, catastrophes, challenges, calamities, and other
C-words that make it more of an effort for the good guys to
win).

They sneak into the castle, and there is the
long-anticipated showdown between Hero Dorothy and the Wicked
Witch. We get a twist when the Witch catches fire and Dorothy, in a
demonstration of compassion even to her enemies, tries to douse the
flames with water. And this leads to one of those “Ooops!” moments
that enrich a story: the water is fatal to the witch. (Leading one
to wonder why she has a bucket of it to hand. Depression? Thoughts
of suicide? We’ll never know.)

With the Wicked Witch dead, Dorothy discovers that
the Witch was also a tyrant and now the people of her land rejoice
for freedom with a rousing chorus of ‘Ding Dong the Wicked Witch’
(which they sing in immediate harmony, suggesting that this is a
long anticipated eventuality).

Dorothy and her posse bring the broom back to the
Emerald City and BIG TWIST: the wizard is a fraud. All smoke and
mirrors. No real powers. Damn. Did not see that coming.

However the Wizard has a heart of gold in his
deceitful chest, and he hands out some baubles that symbolize the
things Dorothy’s friends need: recognition of innate intelligence,
acknowledgment of dedication, and a reward for valor. Nothing for
Dorothy.

The Wizard then attempts to take Dorothy home via
hot air balloon, but that ends badly and the Wizard floats off to
who knows where, alone. And, one wonders if that escape had been
planned all along. Devious bastard.

Finally the Good Witch shows up and in another BIG
TWIST, tells Dorothy that she had the power to go home all along.
The ruby slippers are apparently good for interdimensional
travel.

We see another element of Dorothy’s growth:
restraint. She does NOT leap on the Good Witch and kick the crap
out of her for not telling her this way the hell back in Oz. The
Good Witch apparently recognized the need for a vision quest and
played the ruby slipper card close to the vest.

So, Dorothy bids farewell to her friends in Oz,
clicks her ruby slippers and wakes up in Kansas where she is
surrounded by her Aunt and Uncle and the farm workers, all of whom
are ciphers for the characters she met in Oz. Or, perhaps, vice
versa.

Dorothy now recognizes the value of what she has and
is properly grateful for it. Which allows us the change to step out
of the story, since we now know that it’s safe for Dorothy to
continue on her journey. We trust that she will do well because
we’ve seen her growth, and we know the cost.

If you look at the first
Star Wars
flicks,
you can see an almost identical process in Luke’s journey from
annoying dust farmer to someone who can blow up a Death
Star.

So, that’s the short and long of the Three Act
Structure. You may not be able to watch Wizard of Oz the same way
again; and if you’re a true writer, you’ll be forever plagued with
trying to identify the act breaks in every book, TV show or movie
you ever watch. Don’t blame me…blame the Greeks.

Jonathan
Maberry—http://www.jonathanmaberry.com

###

20. VISUAL STORYTELLING: IMAGERY

By Alexandra Sokoloff

http://www.alexandrasokoloff.com

In film, every movie has a production
designer—one artist (and these people are genius level, let me tell
you) who is responsible, in consultation with the director and with
the help of sometimes a whole army of production artists) for the
entire look of the film – every color, costume, prop, set
choice.

With a book, guess who’s the production
designer? YOU are.

As it happens, Michael brought home the
anniversary edition of the ALIEN series recently. I could go on all
week about what a perfect movie the first ALIEN is structurally as
well, but for today - it’s a perfect example of brilliant
production design—the visual image systems are staggering.

Take a look at those sets (created bySwiss
surrealist H.R. Giger). What do you see? Sexual imagery EVERYWHERE.
Insect imagery—a classic for horror movies. Machine imagery.
Anatomical imagery—the spaceships have very human-looking spines
(vertebrae and all), intestinal-looking piping, vulvic doors. And
the gorgeous perversity of the design is that the look of the film
combines the sexual and the insectoid, the anatomical with the
mechanical, throws in some reptilian, serpentine, sea-monsterish
under-the-sea-effects—to create a hellish vision that is as much a
character in the film as any of the character characters.

Oh, and did I mention the labyrinth imagery?
Yes, once again, my great favorite—you’ve got a monster in a
maze.

Those are very specific choices and
combinations. The sexual imagery and water imagery opens us up on a
subconscious level and makes us vulnerable to the horrors of
insects, machines and death. It also gives us a clear visual
picture of a future world in which machines and humans have evolved
together into a new species. It’s unique, gorgeous, and powerfully
effective.

Obviously
Terminator
(the first) is
a brilliant use of machine/insect imagery as well.

I know I’ve just about
worked these examples to death, but nobody does image systems
better than Thomas Harris.
Silence of the
Lambs
and
Red
Dragon
are serial killer novels, but Harris
elevates that overworked genre to art, in no small part due to his
image systems.

In
Silence
, Harris borrows heavily from
myth and especially fairy tales. You’ve got the labyrinth/Minotaur.
You’ve got a monster in a cage, a troll holding a girl in a pit
(and that girl is a princess, remember – her mother is American
royalty, a senator). You’ve got a twist on the “lowly peasant boy
rescues the princess with the help of supernatural allies” fairy
tale – Clarice is the lowly peasant who enlists the help of (one
might also say apprentices to) Lecter’s wizardlike perceptions to
rescue the princess. You have a twisted wizard in his cave who is
trying to turn himself into a woman.

You have the insect imagery here as well,
with the moths, the spiders and mice in the storage unit, and the
entomologists with their insect collections in the museum, the
theme of change, larva to butterfly.

In
Red Dragon
, Harris works the animal
imagery to powerful effect. The killer is not a mere man, he’s a
beast. When he’s born he’s compared to a bat because of his cleft
palate. He kills on a moon cycle, like a werewolf. He uses his
grandmother’s false teeth, like a vampire. And let’s not
forget—he’s trying to turn into a dragon.

Now, a lot of authors will just throw in
random scary images. How boring and meaningless! What makes what
Harris does so effective is that he has an intricate, but extremely
specific and limited image system going in his books. And he
combines fantastical visual and thematic imagery with very
realistic and accurate police procedure.

I know, all of these
examples are horror, sorry, it’s my thing—but look at
The Wizard of Oz
(just the
brilliant contrast of the black and white world of Kansas and the
Technicolor world of Oz says volumes). Look at what Barbara
Kingsolver does in
Prodigal
Summer
, where images of fecundity and the,
well, prodigy of nature overflow off the pages, revealing
characters and conflicts and themes. Look at what Robert
Towne/Roman Polanski do with water in
Chinatown
, and also—try watching that
movie sometime with Oedipus in mind . . . the very specific
parallels will blow you away.

So how do you create a visual/thematic image
system in your books?

Well, start by becoming more conscious of
what image systems authors are working with in books and films that
YOU love. Some readers/writers don’t care at all about visual image
systems. That’s fine—whatever floats your boat. Me, with rare
exceptions, I’ll toss a book within twenty pages if I don’t think
the author knows what s/he’s doing visually.

What I do when I start a
project, along with outlining, is to keep a list of thematic words
that convey what my story is about, to me. For
The Harrowing
, it was words like:
Creation, chaos, abyss, fire, forsaken, shattered, shattering,
portal, door, gateway, vessel, empty, void, rage, fury, cast off,
forgotten, abandoned, alone, rejected, neglected, shards,
discarded… pages and pages like that.