Bones isn’t xenophobic toward Vulcans, he just roasts Spock, specifically, for being Vulcan the same way my siblings roast me for being gay. They’re both in on the joke, and if Spock asked Bones to stop, he would. Instead, this sassy motherfucker insults humanity as a whole and Bones’s abilities as a doctor in retaliation.
Plot…and action…are DIFFERENT THINGS.
I’m making up assignments from when I was woefully ill a few weeks ago, and that was a week of amazing readings, one of which laid out this very thing. Actions are the concrete events that happen, while plot is the non-concrete, the thematic - what changes. You can explain the plot of a story without even touching on the individual actions within it.
Actions: John Watson awakes from nightmares of the war to a small, bleak rental room. His therapist presses on what he’s written on his blog, and he says nothing interesting ever happens to him. John meets an old friend in the park, his friend takes him to the lab at St. Barts where he introduces him to Sherlock Holmes, a genius who needs a roommate. When John goes to see the flat, Sherlock takes him along to a crime scene to which he’s been summoned by the Met. Blah blah blah etcetera, John figures out who the killer is just in time and races to the scene, shooting the cabbie before Sherlock can take the potentially poisoned pill. They walk off together, talking about dinner.
Plot: Veteran John Watson is struggling to adjust to civilian life until he meets Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only consulting detective, who offers him reason to live - the war against crime being waged on London’s streets - and a friendship that will define them both.
The first is a point by point description of what happens; the second is the heart of the story - why what happens matters - and it’s a bit more wibbly wobbly and open to interpretation. A good fic summary, story pitch, movie review, etc. focuses mainly, if not entirely, on the plot and not the actions.
I was talking about this with a writer-friend, and we sat in her parked car for like five minutes miming head explosions at each other and going, “HOLY CRAP. THEY’RE DIFFERENT” and “I KNOW, RIGHT?” and “I NEVER THOUGH ABOUT IT BEFORE” and “I KNOW, RIGHT.” So, yeah. Actions and plot. Different things. I’m going to want to kiss that essay on its stupid essay face the next time I’m writing a plot summary.
oh my god...
so the first screenshot is trying to look this up on tiktok normally, "donald trump rigged election" and it says that search violates community guidelines.
the second screenshot is looking up the same exact thing, but with a (australian) vpn on. canadian vpn didn't fix it fyi.
THIS is exactly the type of censorship to be looking out for on tiktok. this actually is crazy.
ohsweetcrepes replied to your post: Also. ALSO.
This essay. I would like to read it.
“Incremental Perturbation: How to Know Whether You’ve Got a Plot or Not” by John Barth. I don’t know if it’s available online, but I read it in Creating Fiction (ed. Julie Checkoway), which is a book I highly recommend after having read about a third of its essays.
And here comes my plug for this book, because I’ve been arguing with every book but this one this semester, and I feel like it deserves some love.
Creating Fiction also contains the essay “The Lingerie Theory of Literature: Describing and Withholding, Beginning and Ending” by Checkoway, which uses Victoria’s Secret catalogues to demonstrate how much detail you need in a story, and “Icebergs, Glaciers, and Arctic Dreams: Developing Characters” by Kim Edwards, which is just an all-around fantastic examination of characterization. I think it’s out of print, but you can get it for under $10 used or as a Google ebooks download.
among the most enduring lessons i have ever received in screenwriting stands this one from glenn gordon caron…
(glenn created and ran the wildly successful, long-running “medium” - on which i worked for two seasons as co-executive producer - as well as one or two other things that have… you know… shaped the very face of popular culture as we know it)
…a legendarily tough grader who likes to do his master-level work without a lot of noisy fuss and bluster (and probably dislikes being singled out for public praise like this) glenn would set the table for every one of our story pitches to him with a single, and deceptively simple, request:
“tell it to me like it’s a joke.”
now, “medium” was several things - among them, one of tv’s best portrayals of a messy but functional marriage, as well as a crime procedural dotted with representations of unspeakable violence, usually perpetrated by serial killers in the psychic visions of its lead character - but “barrel of laughs” is most likely not in the top ten descriptors for that series…
…so how did “tell it to me like it’s a joke” fit into the equation?
a joke - for my money - is to storytelling what haiku is to poetry: the shortest possible distillation of formal intent. a set-up, brief development, and a punch line…
…short, sweet — and, if successfully told, climaxing in an explosive, involuntary emotional response.
for a story to work in any genre, every successful element from the macro to the micro - from the sweep of the story, to the shape of individual scenes, the arcs of the characters, and the very structure of individual lines of dialogue - should be reducible to the specific outlines of a joke.
set up, development, punch line.
as you have guessed by now, the punch line doesn’t have to be funny - it can be horrific (as it often was on “medium”) or tear-inducing, or a twist that sends the story into an unexpected direction - but it is the nexus toward which the set up and development need to work in absolute concert - there’s no room for fat on a joke, only specificity of purpose.
to this day, the “tell it to me like it’s a joke” principle guides me through story and scene development like a trusty compass: if you can tell your story in the most concise way possible and still deliver your emotional punchline, then all the adornments will fall into line as needed.
“tell it to me like it’s a joke” is neither a formula nor a cure all - it’s a test: if your concept survives on the “tell it to me like it’s a joke” touchstone, then at least you know that the gross anatomy is in place… there are still a thousand ways to mess it up, to be sure, but the airframe will fly - so long as you outfit it with all the necessary equipment.
you wanna know my favorite joke?
an aimless young artist is recruited by an organization that fights monsters… while at first she dislikes her employer and considers him a stuffed shirt, she ultimately finds in him the father she never had.
GET GRUFFALO'D, BITCH
Some of these books you may have already read. A refresher never hurts, though, if you have the time.
1.
It Can't Happen Here - Sinclair Lewis. Historical Fiction, 1930s USA.
2.
The Book Thief - Markus Zusak. Historical Fiction, Nazi Germany.
3.
Parable of the Sower - Octavia E Butler. Dystopian speculative fiction.
4.
Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury. Dystopian sci-fi.
5.
The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood. Dystopian fiction.
6.
On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century - Timothy Snyder. Non-fiction.
Leave further suggestions in the comments! What else should I/we read?
To The Person At The Bus Stop Holding A Bouquet of Red Roses by Jordan Bolton
Part of Scenes From Imagined Films Issue 3 - Order now on Etsy
I am not taking this seriously
Sometimes you need to outline a whole ass fantasy novel in a single day instead of dealing with your feelings
Listen, I'm having fun playing with the ultra patriotic voice, but after a couple years in blue-collar landscaping jobs, you really do need to phrase things like that.
"I'm pretty sure that fella ain't here legally."
"Well, that ain't your business Chip, it's his."
They hate being preached to. If you pull out words like 'gender wage gap' they'll tell you you're brainwashed by the far left media.
"He's one of them transgenders."
"He got freedoms too, Jimmy."
I write things sometimes. she/her, but I'll take whatever pronouns suite the bit
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