jakebe | Entries tagged with storytelling

The first game I ever ran was a Changeling: the Dreaming campaign way back in high school. My players were an eshu, satyr, redcap and sluagh, and somewhere in there I ended up crossing things over with The X-Files because I was young and didn't know any better. Do you remember those metal spikes they killed people with by stabbing it into the back of their necks? It was cold iron given to government agents to snuff out faeries. Yeah. I know.

I've run sporadically since then -- mostly Dungeons and Dragons in its various incarnations or Pathfinder. This latest campaign was an old idea that I dusted off and spruced up, thinking that I would finally get to tell it right this time. I quickly discovered, though, that Pathfinder can be just as crunchy with numbers as D&D, thank you, and that if you don't really understand the system home-brew rules will seriously fuck you up.

My players are a bunch of wonderful people -- they're smart, creative, passionate and fun. I'm not ashamed to admit that there is a huge amount of performance anxiety around running something for them. I want to do something that makes one friend feel like a bad ass, gives another friend the chance to explore psychological terrain he finds interesting, provide another friend with the political drama he's discovering an affinity for, and let another friend find an ingenious way out of a difficult situation. All while keeping a whole set of rules and story beats in my head, improvising characters and plot details on the fly, and struggling to keep track of what has happened, what needs to happen, and what CAN'T happen. Running a tabletop RPG is really difficult you guys, especially if you have good players.

I'm also not ashamed to admit that I often let that anxiety get the best of me. I've snapped at players once or twice for trying to tweak their characters to maximum benefit when really, that's just how they find enjoyment in the game. I've taken feedback badly, and let constructive criticism blow my perception of how poorly things were going out of proportion. I take storytelling very seriously, and perfectionist tendencies, chronic anxiety and an unfocused, disorganized ADHD brain is quite possibly the worst mix of traits to tell an improvised and collaborative story with people who are in all likelihood way smarter than you.

Now that I'm diving back into the pool, I'm trying to ease off the idea of telling a perfect story. I've learned a great deal about the way the story delivery mechanism influences what works best, and with tabletop RPGs I've found it works best to keep things a bit simpler. We've trained ourselves to think medieval fantasy has to have these sprawling, complicated worlds with rich societies and a gigantic number of characters, but when you're getting together with a bunch of friends for six hours once a month there is no way people can hold these little plot and story seeds in their heads. Dense, sprawling mythologies work well in stories that are a bit more permanent -- TV shows, novels, even movies. But I've found they work less well when you're basically sitting around a campfire.

The direct approach tends to work better. The immediacy of creating the story around the table lends itself to scenes and situations that grab your emotions by the throat. The games that are most memorable and fun are the ones where you have a bad guy you clearly hate, a tough struggle that you barely make it through, and a reason for triumph that's personal and reaffirming. The patience required to lay down a complicated story, brick by brick, is better spent parsing how characters can grow, change and excel within the confines of the system and the world you've built. Making sure your story is clear enough that your players know the next thing they need to do and why they need to do it goes a long way towards making sure they can get invested in what's going on. Shadowy figures and mysterious conspiracies work for a few games, but at some point there needs to be clear progress and a strong sense of momentum pulling the characters from scene to scene.

So what I've focused on with this latest attempt at verbal storytelling is crafting scenes that make for fun jumping-off points for the characters while having hooks that appeal to my players or at least their characters. It's been fun taking the metaplot, distilling it down to a series of actions, and then breaking up those actions into progressable goals from scene to scene. It makes the skeleton of the story strong but flexible, capable of carrying us all along but bending to suit the needs of the people around the table.

I'm so nervous about running this weekend, but really excited as well. I can't wait to put what I've learned to use and see how I've progressed as a storyteller. Wish me luck for this Saturday, folks!

I LOVE the rhythms of episodic storytelling. There's the anticipation of setting the scene, the cold open that makes the play for your attention and emotional investment right away, and the momentum that builds through a number of scenes, action set-pieces or conversations that build to a climax that ties the entire episode together through theme, action or consequence. And, of course, the final scene or image that teases the fallout from what's just occurred so you just have to know what's going to happen in the next installment.

Like most of the rabbits in my generation, I grew up learning the ebb and flow of these kinds of stories. Each episode broken up into three or more acts; each act fulfilling a purpose that is necessitated by the act that follows; each scene establishing or deepening character motivations, developments and setting in order to provide the biggest payoff for what's coming at the end of the episode, the run of the season, or an entire series. I've always been fascinated by the trick of keeping forward momentum, of knowing where to place the scenes that slow things down to keep things from moving too fast, of mastering the speed you move through plot so that turns are sharp but not derailing.

The best TV shows and comic books know how to work within the limitations of their allotted space and format, even turning these restraints into features that enhance the storytelling. Say what you want about LOST and Battlestar Galactica, but at the height of their stories there was almost nothing better. Each week -- each commercial break -- was an interminable gulf through which you had to wade in order to learn how the story ends.

Great episodic storytelling is as much about building anticipation as it is rewarding it with satisfying the wait. I love shows and comics that can pull me into the story so deeply that I'm completely immersed in it while I'm there and I totally forget that it's set to end until, suddenly, it does -- and then I have to think about how everything that's happened will lead to even more intense consequences for the characters and the world they live in. It's such a sweet agony. I love feeling that anticipatory, excited impatience.

This is something that I'd love to learn how to cultivate with the Jackalope Serial Company. The first serial, THE CULT OF MAXIMUS, features a pair of police officers caught up in an investigation that uncovers -- what else? -- something that's been lurking in the shadows of their city for some time. The more they uncover, of course, the weirder things get...and the more the protagonists are irrevocably changed by their experience.

The premise is to submit an "episode" of 1,500 - 2,500 words each week, with four or five episodes bundled together to make up a distinct 'chapter' of the story. Committing myself to that kind of deadline has been all kinds of educational for me; it's helped me to learn exactly what kind of space there is in that word count, how each scene needs to pull its weight within the limits of that format, and how to build momentum in a story arc while maintaining interest in what's happening right there and then. The demands of episodic storytelling are surprisingly varied and strict, and I don't think I really understood just how good you have to be at managing the pacing of the story until I started doing it.

It's interesting to find myself developing a whole new appreciation for the craft by attempting a version of it myself, and I'm glad to talk about it -- even if that means it might not be the best commercial for the Jackalope Serial Company itself. Even still, I'm glad that I'm realizing what I am and that the lessons I'm learning through the experience are being applied to the story in real time. As I write each part and move through the outline, I'm finding that my grasp of character, dialogue, plot and momentum grows steadily more sure. I'm a fair bit away from being a really GOOD storyteller, but the enthusiasm I have for the story and the craft involved in telling it is pulling me through this first little bit. I'd like to think that that translates into an enjoyable tale that has its flaws but is worth the time regardless, but we'll have to see. I do think it's getting better all the time, which is the most important thing.

In the meantime, looking at the television shows that I've been really impressed by and trying to reverse-engineer them to see how they work has become a favorite pastime. How *does* Daredevil manage to explore its main themes without feeling like it wallows in them? How does Breaking Bad put its protagonist through such a clear arc from season to season? How does Battlestar Galactica tell such a sprawling, epic story while still keeping itself grounded in these flawed and fascinating characters? And how can I use those lessons to inform my own writing? This is all wonderful stuff to think about -- but it's even better to talk about.

What are your favorite episodic stories, and what lessons of writing have you taken from them?

Current Mood: thoughtful

(Crossposted from my Blogger...blog.)

I think one of the worst things you can do as a writer is to write from an inauthentic place. You see this a lot when folks try to go somewhere different with their stories -- say, a comic-book nerd tries to write a protagonist who comes from an urban background. The dialogue often rings false at best, and can descend into outright racism at worst. (Note: this is not a pre-emptive strike against Ultimate Spider-Man. I've got more faith in Bendis than that.)

However, it's really tough as a writer to stretch out if you're forever telling stories with the same kind of protagonist. You don't really get fulfillment just writing about what you know. The drive is there to imagine what it's like on the other side of the fence as it were, to take the life of someone radically different and try to find common ground. Or at least explore the differences. The temptation is there, I know. And I try not to knock someone for at least trying to think outside of their box, even if the results of their artistic exercises tweak me the wrong way at times. After all, there really aren't that many stories being told about people like me -- a gay black Buddhist who really likes his modern fantasies.

It wasn't until I thought about stretching out with one of my own protagonists that I really thought about why. I'm interested in writing a medieval fantasy from the perspective of a post-teen girl (around 19 or 20) because, well, it's a good vehicle for me to explore my ideas about the mythology of the feminine and how they can be applied in the messy reality of the 'real world,' so to speak. We've explored the masculine ideal through superheroes and anti-heroes and fairy tales and all kinds of other things, but...the idea of the feminine, the specific attributes that the female gender role brings to the table, is woefully under-represented. At least from what I've
seen.

I don't need to talk much about what a minefield this idea could turn out to be. Just reading the words "feminine ideal" might be enough to cause most of you out there to cringe. It might even be automatically offensive. How would I feel, after all, if some white guy were to write some collegiate bullshit about the "mythology of the black experience"? Add to that the fact that I'm coming to this idea from a place of relative ignorance. I left my mother and sister behind over twelve years ago and fell in immediately with the gay crowd. I'm a gay man, and almost all of my friends are gay men. Regular, frank contact with a woman almost never happens.

That being said, all dialogue has to start somewhere. If a white guy who's lived in the suburbs all of his life wanted to write a story about a black man living in the ghetto, where would he start? Should he even be allowed to try? I almost guarantee you that his first stab at it will feature misconceptions that will lead to subjects that are uncomfortable, even painful, to talk about. It definitely wouldn't be an easy process. But I think it's absolutely necessary to tell a story that even has a whiff of authenticity.

I have a feeling the same goes for me and that same desire to tell a story through a woman's eyes. Not only that, but to have a story where what we've come to think about women features heavily. There's likely to be a lot of things I get wrong. There's probably going to be a view I hold that is just...sexist by its very nature. I'm quite worried that even having the audacity to say "This is the female hero I would like to read" could come across as belittling or trivializing that experience. That worry isn't going to stop me, though. At least not at first. I'll be putting up a few vignettes of stories in the coming days and weeks to see if I can get a handle on my protagonist. Constructive criticism and honest feedback is welcome, of course. As are suggestions.

But honestly, what do you guys think? Is it possible to tell the story of a minority authentically if you're not a part of that group? What's necessary for it to ring as true as it needs to?

Current Mood: creative
Current Location: my room
Current Music: Boarding the Serenity/Derelict - Greg Edmonson

( First, the friendship meme. )

I wouldn't normally post something like this, quite, but in light of recent events I find it pretty amusing.

Anyway,

arlekin was kind enough to bring over last night's episode of LOST for me to watch this morning. And watch it I did.

( LOST spaz, probably spoilers. )

Tonight: getting drunk and hopefully posting a new entry in

smileydanq. I hate that it's been collecting dust all this time.

Also, to those whom I talked to last night. Sorry if I was flaky and distracted and possibly rude. I was kinda toasted and I don't remember a few things.

drleo, especially, a thousand apologies for the disastrous cribbage game. I honestly don't remember if we actually finished it, and if we did, who won. I hope I didn't just...pass out on you or anything.