I'm putting episodes 8.5 and 8.6 together, in part because I am having a devil of a time writing something for the prompt for episode 8.5. That episode talks about breaking the rules of writing, and it made me realize that I never really learned the "rules" for writing. I've never taken a class on writing fiction; all of the instruction I've ever received with regards to writing has been related to writing academic papers, non-fiction persuasion or position papers, essentially. I've had some experience in writing documents for work, things like standard operating procedures (SOPs) and minutes from various meetings, but none of that explains how best to handle point of view or whether you should move from one character's thoughts to another. I've obviously read a lot of fiction in my life, and so I have an idea of what I think works and what doesn't, but I also, embarrassingly, have to say that I don't pay super close attention to what - or rather, how - things are done. I've been known to read a book and not realize until about a third of the way through that it's written in the first person present tense, because I got caught up in the story.
That doesn't happen quite so often anymore, because I have been spending more time trying to figure out how to write fiction for myself, but even when I do focus on what other writers do, it's much more likely to be on what kind of word choices they use. I want to know how they keep me from falling out of the story by describing just enough to keep me engaged without giving me too many details to get hung up on. One of my favorite anthologies is still "Help Fund My Robot Army!" edited by John Joseph Adams, specifically because the way each story is told is so limited, and yet they manage to get across so much information and character and world-building. That's what I notice, and that's what I try to figure out for myself when I write, but I have no idea if that means that I'm following a proper three-act structure or if my third-person perspective is omniscient or limited. It's really hard to write something deliberately breaking the rules when you have no idea what the rules are supposed to be.
Writing prompt: Here is a rule for rule-breaking: The best format for experimenting with rule-breaking is the short. So! Pick your three favorite rules and break all three in a short story. I'm going to have to come back to this prompt at some point, after I've done a little more reading and maybe taking a class or two to help me figure out what rules I want to break. (If anyone has any suggestions for classes they recommend on basic "here's how you write fiction good," drop me a line! I clearly have no idea what I'm doing.)
Episode 8.6 is about retellings and adaptations, and that is much more my jam. I really liked hearing how the team discusses retellings and adaptations, and why we would want to read or watch the same story being told in different ways. Over the last year and a half, I've definitely found some comfort in the familiar, which I think is probably true of all of us, and while I do appreciate watching or reading the same things time and time again, it's nice to find something new or strange in the midst of the familiar. A retelling gives an audience the opportunity to find that strangeness and novelty, just by shifting the focus of the story that they know. There were some great examples of retellings mentioned, where stories are being told from different perspectives (like Gregory Maguire's Wicked) or in different genres or time periods (the movie Clueless). I also really liked the way they distinguish between fan fiction and retellings - fan fiction takes characters that are familiar and builds a different story structure around them; retellings take a story or plot that is familiar and gives the opportunity to build new characters on them. Just that distinction makes me want to give fan fiction a try, maybe.
Writing prompt: Do a retelling of a Bible story in a science fiction space setting.
Joseph watched through the window as the space ship left the station, almost expecting to see his traitorous brothers counting their money on the port like some kind of movie villains. He knew that they were long gone, and had been gone well before the ship had even finished loading the cargo, but it still made him wonder if he could see them and expect to watch them, watching him being sent away forever. With a sigh, he turned away from the porthole and surveyed the room that would be his prison for the next... well, until the captain decided otherwise.
Joseph didn't know exactly what it was that his brothers hated about him so much, just that they hated him. He was constantly being told that he wasn't their real brother, and he knew that they didn't share the same blood - anyone who looked at them could tell that they weren't completely related. It wasn't his fault that their father had had a dalliance with a member of a different humanoid race, and she had left Joseph at their doorstep before he was old enough to put words together in any language. She wasn't motherly material, he was told, particularly not toward one who wasn't completely of her race, and he should be grateful that she had left him with his human father, rather than leaving him exposed to the elements on some planet somewhere. He supposed he was grateful, to a certain extent, but it was a little difficult to feel anything but anger toward someone who didn't want him around at all.
The earliest memory he had was of being stared at by a group of boys, all human, all older than he was, all giving him the same look of disdain and irritation mixed with fear that he would come to expect from humans in general. These, he was told, were his brothers, and he would learn to love them, as they would learn to love him. They would take care of him, when his father couldn't be around, and they would make sure that nothing bad happened to him. He learned quickly that this wasn't entirely true, particularly when it came to Simeon. He was one of the oldest of the brothers, and the one who took the most offense at Joseph's existence in the house (and, he told Joseph repeatedly, his existence in the universe at all - Joseph was offensive to his very soul, and there was no reason in the heavens why he should be permitted to live). So when Joseph was told that Simeon was taking him to the trade ports, along with two of their other brothers, he knew something was up. He just didn't expect it to be quite so permanent.
Joseph pulled the collar of his coat closer to him, thankful once again for the colorful, warm garment that his father had made for him. Even though the coat had driven his brothers mad with jealousy, they hadn't taken it from him when they sold him to the captain of the mining ship. The coat would have done them absolutely no good, after all - the fabric was made for his race, and not humans. Simeon had still made a grab for it, and managed to snag a part of the hem in his hand before Joseph was dragged away. Joseph imagined that it would help Simeon sell the story of Joseph's death to their father - he'd heard the brothers discussing exactly how they were going to explain his disappearance before he'd been pulled onto the ship. They hated that his hearing was so very good, but he'd tried not to use it to his advantage over them too often. Still, it had hurt to hear how little any of them cared, and how none of them had fought to keep him with them.
Before long, the station was out of sight, and Joseph was off to begin his new life. He had no idea what that would bring, but he was certain he would never see his brothers again.
No comments:
Post a Comment