OK, Big Drum Roll, Please

The first in possibly several blog entries: 

What Acting Has Taught Me About Writing

When I’m reading someone’s WIP, it’s obvious to me if they watch too much TV or see too many movies.  Someone who doesn’t act or participate in the creation of television or movie programs focus on the most basic, surface aspects: dialogue, eyes, mouth. 

If you’ve ever read a script, it’s pretty dry.  Dialogue, dialogue, dialogue, exit scene.  Act II. 

Dialogue:  Who’s on first.

Doesn’t do much. 

Now relate it to Abbott and Costello.  If you don’t picture a tallish, thin guy with a straight face and short roundish guy with big, glassy eyes, you don’t have parents as old as mine.  Costello’s lip quiver, the way he turns his head to the audience, seeks assistance with what is obvious insanity is precious.  The radio classics had even less to work with.  They had their voices.  All you could do was imagine Costello’s bewilderment as his voice raced up and down the octave.

A few people can pull off a story that is nothing but dialogue, but the work has to be tight.

Ever seen a script after an actor has had it?  Marked to pieces.  Say this word louder.  Or a crescendo mark will be present.  Almost all actors have musical backgrounds.

Me, first acting class, my acting handbook open to the first page:  Dialogue

“Don’t write an emotion.  Write an action.  Because, if you’re hungry and you wrote down sad, it’s going to be hard to pull off.  But if you write down an action, head down, hand to the chest, sniffling, you’ve got actions telling your audience you’re sad.”

Yep, learned that in acting class.  Never told that once in a writing class.  The best way to convey an emotion is to never say it.  Writers and editors alike will comment on the excellence of an author’s WIP when it’s pulled off. 

The best actors are always moving.  That doesn’t mean they’re running all over the stage.  It means that the actor has to show they’re alive every minute of a performance, has to be aware of where their hand is resting, what the blocking is, smirking at this, frowning at that, raising the brow at precisely the right time.  Little motions are better than big motions.  Make the reader/audience member focus on the performance, on the tiny minutiae.  Being an expert at body language will do wonders for your work.

  And because this has gotten kind of long and I haven't even cracked the surface, I'm cutting it off here and sparing those of you who can't take much of my rambling.

Fix It

Sometimes I feel like I'm Dr. Phil.  He often says on his show how many parents bring him their children, offer it up to the alter of Dr. Phil and say, "Fix it."

Authors do this to me.  They bring their babies, their beautiful stories.  To me, they often resemble Quasimodo.  And they bat their eyes at me, usually big, blue, wet eyes.  So full of hope, waiting for me to tell them how great their story is.  And then expect me to pull out my wand made of ash wood with a unicorn hair core.  And fix it.

If I had my way, I’d say, “Avada Kedavra!”

1. If I did actually just go through and "fix it," the author would have a heart attack.  I've just turned their child into the elephant man. 

2. My job as editor is not to "fix" your work.  My job as an editor is to point out errors and inconsistencies and show you the way to fix it yourself.  If you want someone to "fix" your writing, hire a ghost writer.

Authors come to me looking for justification for their actions.  I’m not a priest.  I can’t absolve you.

They look for me to give them approval.  I’m nobody.  Why do you need my approval?

They look to me to do their work for them.  I’m probably lazier than you are.  Look somewhere else.

The fact of the matter:  all the tools any author needs are already out there.  More power to you if you're willing and want to do the work.

So why write a blog at all?

I like the sound of my computer keys as my fingers race over them.