Jellybean, Licorice, Vonnegut, Line

Time for the next installment of the Visual Storyboarding series! 

(Previous entries have been bookmarked for you at the end of this post.)

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KINDS OF TIMELINES: 

JELLYBEAN, LICORICE, VONNEGUT, LINE

Now that we’ve discussed (a) why we storyboard and not merely “plot”, (b) how to visualize our hooks, and (c) how to pull together the factual AND visual details for our respective novels --- the next step, then, is to craft a timeline of events that your characters must endure for the sake of the story.

The good news? 

Timelines don’t need to be ultra-specific - only enough to keep you on track with where your tale needs to go.

The challenge? 

Since this is visual storyboarding, you'll likely need at least two different kinds of timelines, and possibly all four.

Which four kinds of timelines do I mean? The ones mentioned in the blog title, of course: Jellybean, Licorice, Vonnegut, Line.

But in true Angela fashion, I’ve given you the list of timeline forms in reverse order. Let’s start with the last one, shall we?

LINE TIMELINE:

This is the form of timeline that every schoolchild knows. A basic, straightforward timeline that gives the general idea of which event happened first – you know, to show that Napoleon lived before Ronald Reagan, or that the sinking of the Titanic did NOT happen during the Third Crusade.

A basic line timeline looks something like this:

photo source

Simple enough, yes?

So when you first sit down to work the timelines for your novel, this is usually your first step. Go ahead and get the obvious out on paper – not in paragraph form, but in this simple line form, so that you can have a quick reference to make sure your novel doesn’t jump the tracks and diverge into the opium fields somewhere.

You may have already done this part, of course. If you have, you’re ready for the next kind of timeline:

VONNEGUT TIMELINE:

This is the timeline idea that revolutionized the way I plot my stories – and, as you might have guessed from the name, the idea was given to me by the old wisecracking surrealist writer, Kurt Vonnegut himself.

More specifically, I learned about this style of time-line-ing when I first sat down to read Vonnegut’s best-known novel, Slaughterhouse Five.

I refer, of course, to the first chapter of that book, which explains how he came up with his hypnotically fractured story about time-sliding Billy Pilgrim. More specifically, he explains what aliens and a disillusioned middle-aged man have to do with Vonnegut’s own experiences during the bombing of Dresden (WWII), which he and his comrades narrowly survived by hiding out in a concrete slaughterhouse (from which the book derives its name). 

The part that changed the way I saw story-plotting was Vonnegut’s own confession on how he started to draw out the idea for Slaughterhouse Five:

I had outlined the Dresden story many times. The best outline I ever made, or anyway, the prettiest one, was on the back of a roll of wallpaper. I used my daughter’s crayons, a different color for each main character. One end of the wallpaper was the beginning of the story, and the other end was the end, and then there was all that middle part, which was the middle. And the blue line met the red line and then the yellow line, and yellow line stopped because the character represented by the yellow line was dead. And so on. The destruction of Dresden was represented by a vertical band of orange cross-hatching, and all the lines that were still alive passed through it, came out the other side.

Now – I don’t know if that description makes any sense to you, but it sent off massive amounts of light bulbs in my head. Holy crow, I thought. That makes so much sense! I could see at one whack where all the major characters are, where they fall in and out of the story, who crosses into the climactic conflicts, and so on. I could totally do this.

And when I did the serious storyboarding for Castle 8, that’s just what I did. I taped together several sheets of typing paper end to end – fourteen feet of it – and spent five solid days during a January ice storm laying out my Dresdens and colored lines and battlefields.

The result looked like this:

"The beginning of the story." First half of the behemoth 14 foot timeline, spread across 

my desperately-needs-vacuuming floor. This is how I spent the five days I was stuck 

at home during the ice storm of early 2011.

"All that middle part, which was the middle." What you see here has 

changed somewhat now; I’ve dropped some characters and shifted the timeline. 

That happens when you write, at least to a point. 

"And the other end was the end." The other end of the 14 foot timeline. The broad yellow stripe 

indicates the huge climactic scene of the series. I gave myself another foot 

or so of space afterward, to allow for adequately handling the denouement of the tale.

Some of the timeline has changed, but most of it is still structurally sound. I refer to it frequently, because this shows me at one glance where each character is in relation to the major events happening in my tale. Moreover, because my series will become increasingly complex in the overlap of characters’ lives, I will refer to it still more as the tale progresses. My fourteen foot timeline may look like overkill, but for me – it’s a lifesaver.

LICORICE TIMELINE

So you’ve got your Vonnegut Timeline ready (or we’re pretending that you have). Now you realize that even within the overall harp of colored lifelines, there are some finer points that need their own timeline. Maybe there is a very busy three month period in your tale where a lot is going on – OR maybe your story doesn’t cross years (like mine), but a series of weeks, and a narrower range of time-line-ing is in order.

That’s where laying out a licorice timeline will help.

An incomplete licorice timeline. With very short, squat licorice strips. 

(But not quite a jellybean timeline, even so.)

I call it a “licorice” timeline because it looks like someone’s laid out those long, thin rectangular strands of Twizzlers and given them funny labels, and took away the color. I did a licorice timeline for a nine month stretch of Castle 8, and while it’s not completely finished (or accurate), the current format still helps me understand the necessary structure of those nine important months in my characters' lives.

JELLYBEAN TIMELINE

But what if you need to break events down even further? What if there are a few days in your narrative where everything is happening at once, and in several different places?

That’s where a jellybean timeline will help. It works essentially like the licorice timeline, but with shorter, fatter dollops of information on a Vonnegut trajectory. I recently had to create a jellybean timeline to get a better grasp of the opening five days of my story, and the result was this:

 See the cute little jellybean shapes? Or maybe they're more like gumdrops. 

But "gumdrop" doesn't quite catch the rhythm of the "jellybean, licorice, Vonnegut, line" jingle. 

OTHER THINGS TO REMEMBER ABOUT STORY TIMELINES:

·      I am severely OCD when it comes to timelines. Yours doesn’t need to be so neat, or so anal-retentive.

·      Not all of these timeline types will apply to your story. Most of you will need only one or two, and which ones you need may vary, depending on the project.

·      It’s always advisable to do the standard line timeline at least, just so you know where your major events fall, and what those major events are.

·      EXPERIMENT. I’m sure there’s another way of handing the timing aspect of things that I haven’t covered here. Use what works right for you.

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If you missed the earlier Visual Storyboarding episodes, you can follow the following links to catch up:

     PART ONE: Storyboarding vs Mere Plotting

     PART TWO: Building on Your Hook

     PART THREE: Chasing Down the Details

Questions? Comments? Let me know in the comment section below!

Storyboarding vs Mere Plotting

With JuNoWriMo almost upon us, I have tweeted more and more lately about the “storyboarding” stage of my writing process. Several people have asked me what I mean by that, and still others have asked for a closer look at how I go about the prewriting process entirely.

Most writers refer to this as simply “plotting” – but I confess, it’s a word that rarely enters my writing vocabulary.

In the world of Angela, prewriting means storyboarding.

What is storyboarding?

A nice dictionary definition of storyboarding is simply this: “A panel or series of panels of rough sketches outlining the scene sequence and major changes of action or plot in a production to be shot on film or video.”

In other words, it is a term generally applied to the film industry. Generally, it’s a visual pictorial outline that looks something like this >>> See johnstanicek.com for excellent storyboard examples. <<<

This sort of “plotting” is essential to those in film, since so many details hinge on the presentation of the visual aspects, and not dialogue only.

The Megatokyo Connection

I first ran across the term storyboarding several years ago, when I discovered the mother of all quality, convoluted, complex webcomics known as Megatokyo. The mastermind behind the comic, Fred Gallagher, was still putting out Largo & Piro goodness in his original gag-a-day comic strip format then. But not long after I joined this deliriously inverted world of geeks, mystery, social awkwardness, gaming, and the undead - Fred did something VERY interesting: he decided to morph the comic strip from a daily yucks-and-giggles routine to an overarching story with multiple characters, intricately interwoven plotlines, and ongoing themes that actually went beyond humor and meant something.

In short, he wanted to move out of sitcom territory and tell a substantive story.

As he went through the transformation, Fred documented his efforts in his blog posts, which always show up at the bottom of the page after the comic. This is where I first heard him rant about storyboarding, and how much time was consumed in plotting things out correctly.

Then he started posting snippets of his storyboards. He still does this sometimes, by posting “in progress” comics when the finished result is taking a while to really polish off.

Once I saw what he meant by “storyboarding”, my whole vision of what it meant to put a story together changed. Drastically.

Why storyboard a novel?

The idea of “storyboarding” changed my view at a bedrock level, and on a point so simple as to be considered obvious: Stories need to be visual.

That’s almost a “duh” kind of statement, isn’t it? After all, we live in a visually charged society. If it’s not the internet or television or movies, it’s coming over our iPhones and iPads, Kindles and Nooks, not to mention the old standbys – billboards and posters and magazine covers in the grocery store check-out lines. We are bombarded by visual stimuli constantly. Yet we still need the reminder – or at least I do – that today’s audiences are so visually conditioned that any would-be-author who ignores this reality of the modern audience does so at his own peril.

Again – a “duh” moment, right?

But here’s where the lightbulb went on for me: If I am going to write for such a visually charged audience, then I need to write visually – even before I put words to paper.

Please do not misunderstand me.

Storyboarding a novel does NOT mean:

·      Drawing tons of sketches beforehand (though some authors – including J K Rowling, are known to do this. But it’s not for everyone.)

·      Belaboring my writing with loads of long, heavy description. (This is generally considered monumentally BAD writing.)

But my audience is visual. VERY visual.

So how do I do this?

My personal answer is what I would like to take you through for the next few weeks. I’m not saying that I have all the answers – only that I’ve found what works for me; and I have helped enough writers along the way that it seems to help other people as well – not everyone, perhaps, but many. And it’s adaptable; so if you’re NOT an artist, then you can tweak the process in a way that fits you.

Over the month of June I will break down the steps of how to storyboard a novel the “Angela Goff way”, and let you be the judge of which part of these sub-components works for you.

Generally speaking, the trajectory of this series will cover: context, hooks, idea gathering, timelines, maps and sketches, and then of course how to merge all of that into a full storyboard.

I hope this little foray into my brain will help some of you, or at least encourage you in knowing that you’re already doing some of these things that will save your novel from the slush pile.

Follow me on Twitter (@Angela_Goff) or subscribe to email notifications for this blog to catch the next installment, hopefully coming your way by the end of the week.

Questions? Comments? Does any of this sound helpful?

Let me know in the comments!

Visual Dare 1: Surreal

OK. Here's a little something that I would like to make a weekly event, if there's enough interest. My intention is to help my fellow writers jumpstart their writing, wherever they are - because of course we all get stuck. All. The. Time. (Especially if you're like me.)

Below is a visual dare, such as I've given in the past. You can use this photo in one of two ways:

     * incorporate it into your current Work In Progress - literally, or figuratively
     * use it as a 100 word flash fiction to get the brain going in a different creative direction.

Either way - it should thwart the writer's block doldrums, at least a little bit.

Give it a try! Feel free to post your creative responses to the prompt in the comments below (if it's 100 words or less, plus personal comments, of course!).

Here's your dare:

Photo by: Tommy Nease


Where does this take your writing - even for a short burst?
Let me know in the comments - in summary or 100 word excerpts!


Looking forward to hearing from you!

Evolution of a (Shakespearean) Jackass

I mentioned in an earlier post that my school is putting on a spring production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, by ye olde bard Willie Shakespeare. I am in charge of the set/prop construction class, and our biggest project this semester has been, without question, the donkey's head/mask needed for Nick Bottom's transformation.

 Prepping the styrofoam "helmet"for the donkey's skull.

This was fitted specifically to the actor's head.

We are a small academy, so the set/prop class is only a half dozen students, two of which have taken on Bottom's transformation as their own personal project. Since we have an incredibly small budget - and most of that going to costumes - we made a point of "upcycling" as many raw materials as possible for everything we do.

 Trying the eyes on for size.

So far, we've spent almost nothing on Bottom's head, except for some Elmer's glue for the adhesive mixture, and a roll of screen mesh from Home Depot. The mesh allowed us to better refashion the packing styrofoam from a refrigerator box into something more reminiscent of a donkey's muzzle. The duct tape was instrumental for holding the mesh in place so we could apply the paper mache in as natural a donkey-ish approximation as possible.

Styrofoam, duct tape and screen door mesh - the art supplies of champions.

Egg cartons and odd corners of hard, squared styrofoam were used to create the molars and big buck teeth (nicely askew, since Bottom is a jackass, even before he is transformed). In the above photo, you can see the crooked buck tooth dangling from the bottom right corner of the skull.

Bottom also needs some seriously big donkey ears. These were made separately, in jigsaw fashion so they would fit neatly against the skull before being affixed - first with duct tape, then reinforced with paper mache.

Bottom's ears don't look very ear-ish at this stage, but that was soon remedied.

Bottom's head isn't the only prop needing some serious glue-and-paper treatment, as several of my other students have been making paper mache toadstools as part of our fairy forest decoration. But the jackass takes a good deal more planning, a solid know-how of geometry, and persistence (not to mention a light touch and a willingness to get very messy).

"You see an ass, do you??" - Nick Bottom

Attaching the ears. Get a load of those buck teeth...!

 Our set/prop class doesn't meet every day, and paper mache must dry completely between layers, so it has taken us a couple weeks even to get this far - and it will take us a few weeks more before it is complete. But we were finally able to attach the ears and do a refitting with the actor playing Bottom.

You can't tell from the photo, but the mask enables full sightline from beneath the nose, and between his oversized teeth.

This turned out to be a very good idea,  since the additional paper, glue, tin cans (for the eyes) and styrofoam had added significant weight to the mask. It also shifted most of that weight to the rear of the mask. Our next step, then, is to offset the discrepancy with some carefully modified counterbalances inside the nose, as well as some foam padding in the dome of the skull so it better fits the actor's head (fortunately, we left room for both those adjustments).

So now you've seen what I've been up to lately....or rather, what I've been instigating lately, as my students have done all the hard work. Nor is this the limit of the creative mayhem we've been plotting. More updates forthcoming - especially as the mask nears completion!

I should also do a post about how the mushrooms are coming along...they have been so quirky to make, but o so much fun!

And I haven't even mentioned Oberon's crown...but that is a whole other post unto itself.

Did I mention that I love teaching?

Seriously. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Questions? Comments? Snide remarks? Let me know in the comments below!

While You've Been Napping...

.....we've been busy.

By "we" I mean my set/prop students and I. Our school is putting on a spring performance of Midsummer Night's Dream by ye olde wordsmith Billy Shakespeare, and we're having a BLAST pulling together all the props and backdrops, and even some of the costumery involved.

Working on the donkey skull for Nick Bottom's transformation.

Right now, we're in the throes of some serious paper mache projects. Nick Bottom's transformation into a half-donkey is our main focus right now, as our actor playing Bottom needs to be able to practice with the oversized head and fine-tune his "transformation." Also on the agenda: making oversized mushrooms and toadstools with which to pepper the woodland side of the stage.

Trying some googly eyes for Nick Bottom. 

Last week we worked with some oddly shaped packing styrofoam to create the base or "skull" for Bottom's head, and made sure the interior was fitted for the specific actor, with attention to any padding or sizing that was needed to ensure the donkey's head does not go flying from the actor's noggin in the midst of their performance. (Our Nick Bottom is a very exuberant actor.)

Gathering supplies for tomorrow's class.

One of the great things about this class is that most of the materials we're using are old discarded items and recyclable items. A big plus for us was raiding the treasure trove of recyclable art materials at SCRAP Bin, where all sorts of "creative reuse" items are sold at amazingly cheap prices. We loaded our drama closets with a ton of goodies that have equipped us to bring our creative projects to life.

As my spring gets busier and busier with more creative projects - artistic, writing and otherwise - you can expect some more bragging from this proud teacher about the amazing things her students are doing. It's a small class, but all of are them well-suited for the task at hand, and I am always amazed at the sorts of things they can come out with. (I haven't even told you about their grandiose designs for the stage.)

So stay tuned....more creative mayhem on the way.....!

Forming Character(s): Part I

When I first fancied myself as a writer - oh, way back in middle school, or thereabouts - I did what most beginning writers do: I populated my stories with my friends. I was rather insistent on this point, even if I had the subtlety to give them a different name (which I rarely did). It was a nice enough idea at the time and, I guess, in itself a necessary transition point. On some level, every artist must continually wrestle with what it truly means to draw from life and infuse it into your creation, whether it be a painting, sculpture, pottery, poetry, music or literature. How do you create something that is not only interesting, but relevant and inspiring?

You draw from life - or so they say; and it's true, to a point. But only to a point.

The world is bigger than the part you've seen. Never forget this. It doesn't matter if you're a world traveler or a hobbit who's never been outside of the Shire - none of us have seen more than a corner, a mere sliver of the world. You have not seen all there is to see, known all there is to know, and you certainly have not met all the myriad kinds of people in this world. Neither have I. Even current access to movies and television cannot grant us the wealth of possibilities that your imagination could supply. Yes, reality is a beginning point - but then what?

The people you know might not react the way your characters need to react in your tale. I know many brave, even courageous people in my life; but faced with the kind of things I put my characters through, most would probably run away screaming. While I certainly look to specific people to get an idea of how someone might act in a given set of circumstances, it's a bit skewed because neither I nor the person in question really know what they'd do when the crisis happens. You think you know, but it's only a guess, at best. But in your tale you've got to know - you're the author! Part of that author-ly responsibility means knowing when to twist your characters arms, and make them act a certain way - so long as it's within the boundaries of who they are. As the author, it's up to you to determine those boundaries, as well as the response.

Putting real people in your story is not only a good way to get sued, but to get fish-slapped by a potential agent/publisher. I saw this in an article online a couple weeks ago, where the agent made the point that if you put your sweet five year old daughter into the story, what are you going to do when the publisher thinks the child ought to die at the end? Or that the best friend (that you love so dearly) is too saccharine, or a downright drudge? Then you get double the emotional suckerpunch for the price of one character. Ouch.
     Oh - and that whole getting sued thing? For exploitation, defamation of character, etc?
     Yeah. That should be common sense by now. Goes without saying.

Want to know how TO craft dynamic fictional characters? Tune in next week for Part II.

(Yes, I know this is evil of me - but it is only three days into NaNoWriMo.

I need all the buffer space I can get with the updates!)

Da Vinci's Grocery List

Living in the greater Atlanta area definitely has its perks. Shopping, restaurants and entertainment go without saying; but I also adore its museums. Coupled with my own artistic background, I guess it's not surprising that The High Museum of Art is one of my favorite haunts. I am always amazed, not only at the rich spectrum of works they get on loan, but also what they keep on permanent display.

About ten years ago I was privileged to go see the DaVinci exhibit at the High Museum. I was taking a drawing class at a local university at the time - just for kicks - and the professor arranged for us all to go as a class and check out the exhibit. He was excited because it was a collection of Da Vinci's rough works - sketches and mock-ups and small models. Nothing huge or polished or anywhere near complete - only a collection of hastily noted ideas cast in plaster, or scrawled out on oddments of soiled paper.

I say "only a collection..." when really it was anything but an afterthought.  It was a wonderful exhibit, with a rare and privileged glimpse into the mind of one of the greatest geniuses that ever lived. I soaked up every yellowed paper, each lumpy plaster model, and all the explanatory texts that went with them.

For me, however, the highlight of the exhibit was not the sketches that mapped out his original ideas for the Sistine Chapel, or the plaster mock-ups for his sculptures. The crowning jewel was - for me - a grocery list.

Just that. A grocery list.

Allow me to put that comment in context. Da Vinci had a servant who managed his household for him, and did all manner of errands on his behalf; but those duties apparently did not usually include the grocery shopping. Going down to market, and selecting ingredients for himself, was something that Da Vinci evidently liked to do. But one day he found himself in a bit of a bind. Perhaps he was working under deadline with his latest project; or was simply focused on whatever idea he was working on at the moment. Perhaps he was on his way to meet someone. There's no telling. But in the middle of all his rushing about, Da Vinci stopped to jot down a list of items he needed from the market, and handed it off to his servant.

It was at this point that DaVinci made a timely discovery: his servant could not read.

If it had been me, I would have told the servant to not worry about it, and gone later myself. But DaVinci must have really been in a pinch for time (or groceries - perhaps he was expecting company?), because he did nothing of the sort. Instead he took back the list and carefully, dexterously, sketched out each item on the list beside its Italian name. He had asked for six eggs -- so he drew six little eggs, their rounded forms casting little shadows on each other in the right places. He needed three tomatoes --- so he drew three little tomatoes, each with their own stem and scratchy leaves on its indented forehead. He wanted fish and eggplant, and so their distinctive shapes were added to the margin of the list. Every thing that he needed he sketched out, quickly but neatly, in his own masterful hand.

It was this grocery list, scribbled on the backside of an odd scrap of drawing paper, that held my attention far longer than anything else in that exhibit. I loved it because it not only showed that Da Vinci was human, but that his attention to details cascaded into every aspect of life. He drew and painted and sculpted masterfully; his workshop was full of masterpieces, all in progress; and yet he took the time to illustrate his grocery list so his servant could go down to market and not be embarrassed because he didn't know what was expected of him.

That's the kind of artist, teacher and author that I want to be - a person who not only knows the intricate details of the task at hand, but who pauses to appreciate the details of the everyday: of tomato stems and egg-shadows, of the treasures of my local market, and most importantly of the people around me. That, I am sure, is a mark of greatness - whether it is ever remembered by anyone, or not.

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What do you think? What are the details of thinking and living that sets someone apart?