Making a Scene: stalking the key ingredients
by Shelly Frome
When I was
a little kid, I often heard mothers say, “We’re out in public. Don’t make a
scene.” At first, I thought it meant, I want you to behave yourself or I will
tell your father. Or, Please, I’m only going to ask you once. Don’t embarrass
me. Later on, it seemed some parent in question was saying, Don’t you dare do
anything to draw attention to us. Later still, I began to wonder what it would
take to not only draw people’s attention but to sustain it. What could the
child do besides acting out? Which, by that point, had become so predictable in
shopping centers everywhere that it just didn’t play. No longer was repression
and strict behavior part of our cultural landscape.
Interesting
enough, after years of acting, teaching, directing and playwriting, each time I
tackle a novel I have to confront this same problem. I still marvel over
Brando’s performance in the movie On the
Waterfront when, for instance, disregarding what Budd Schulberg had written
in the script, he picked up Eva Marie Saint’s delicate white glove. They were
outside in the freezing cold in a park not far from the Jersey
docks. The two had barely met. Brando
was an illiterate dock worker and Ms. Saint was playing a former convent girl
as delicate as her gloves. Intuitively, Brando knew he wasn’t good enough for
her. Intuitively, the closest he could get, the only way he could hold her
there was to pick up the glove she had inadvertently dropped (which also wasn’t
in the written scene), slip his hand inside and, in that way, keep her from
leaving.
The noted
movie director Robert Altman was fond of saying that every time the actors did
what they were told—said what they were supposed to say, followed the stage
directions to the letter—he had no movie. It was only the happy accidents that
made the storyline work. It was because of something other, some elusive
ingredient that any given scene sprang to life. And, inevitably, those were the
moments that moviegoers remembered.
So here I
am, approaching another scene in a new novel I’m writing. As far as I know,
Jed, my wayward central character, who is in deep trouble, is about to approach
Babs, a power supply store owner, for some information. The scene falls flat
because each character is doing exactly what I expected. It’s only when I have Babs
wheel out a reconditioned DR brush cutter trying to deflect that things start
to happen. The more she attempts to pawn it off on him, placing it between Jed
and herself, the more obstacles Jed has to navigate around literally and
figuratively. And the more Babs finds little devices to ward Jed off, the more the
scene starts to percolate.
It wasn’t the answer. It was only part of the improvisational
process. To put it another way, What’s it going to take to “jack this up” to
use novel guru Larry Brooks’ unfortunate phrase. (An expression he kept using during
his Story Engineering sessions at a recent writers conference in Portland.)
I myself
would rather ask, What will make this encounter reverberate and propel the story
on? How can I make a scene?
OK: What inspires you as a writer?
Some pressing unfinished business I
need to come to terms with; a provocative wrong in the world I’m at odds with
and have to put right or at least deal with; an intriguing place or setting that
sparks an irrepressible journey or exploration—e.g., finding myself in the
backwoods of the Deep South with its haunting history.
OK: When did you have that ah ha moment when you knew you
were a writer?
While trying my hand as a
playwright, my first effort (a one-act) was immediately published by an
enthusiastic lady who wrote that I “had a great feeling for a dramatic engine.” Then when I stretched out,
wrote a full-length and sent it to a noted author and professor of playwriting
at Indiana University, I was told I “truly had
writing gifts.” At that point, I felt I wouldn’t be kidding myself if I pursued
some form of creative writing to see where it led me. Admittedly, I always seem
to need some assurance from those in a position to know what it really takes.
OK: What is your writing process?
In all cases I seem to be on a
quest. At first it’s very vague. I have an idea what notion or set of dramatic
circumstances is prodding me, I know what the catalyst is—the disturbance that
sets everything in motion-- and I’m pretty sure the journey is going to take me
from here to there. But I don’t know how I’m going to get there. At some stage
I have to devise a logline, a one-sentence synopsis like the ones you find in
movie guides or the book review section of the New York Times so I can pin down
exactly what this novel is about. At the outset, I also have to determine who
the major players are and make sure they contrast and will develop so that I’ll
be surprised along the way. Taking this approach I’m guaranteed he story will
be character driven an not just plot driven.
Along the way, I always discover missing
links and holes where I have to do research and determine certain realities so
that this particular odyssey if firmly grounded and not just floating free in
my imagination. I also find that I do a lot of daydreaming before I jot down
each scene so that I can picture events unfolding like a good movie. In a way,
I’m always asking myself, Why here? Why now? and, So what?
Last, but not least, I go over each
scene and then a set of chapters until I have a through-line, always aware of
the tempo and dynamics (contrasting waves of rising action and falling action,
short scenes and more developed scenes, dialogue and synopsis, etc.) I want to
be caught up in the story like an avid reader who is in the flow and has to
keep going in order to discover what happens next.
OK: Tell us about your favorite character and why you chose
to write about her or him?
That, of course, is like asking,
Who’s your favorite child? But I am quite taken with Alice in my latest, Twilight of the Drifter. Some reviewer recently found her to be a
cross between Holden Caulfield in Catcher
in the Rye
and Mattie Ross in True Grit. All I know is that she’s barely fourteen, a
runaway, has had a dreadful upbringing which amounts to no upbringing at all,
and is a survivor. As a result, I never knew exactly what she was going to say
or do, loved her cocky façade and hidden vulnerability, and was willing to
follow her anywhere.
OK: What are you currently working on?
I’m writing a crime novel
centering on a thirty-something handyman who becomes embroiled in the murder of
his employer, a highly suggestible lady choreographer who’s sought refuge in a
rundown cape in an isolated section of the Connecticut hills. Determined to challenge
the circumstantial evidence weighing against him, he also seeks justice for the
victim whom he’s unwittingly grown fond of. But like everything else, the
harder you try to overcome something nearly impossible, the greater resistance.
At this point, Jed finds himself on a collision course with elements of
organized crime. As it happens, this murder is only part of a botched scheme
and intended cover-up involving racketeering on the Jersey
docks with probable stopovers in Manhattan,
South Florida and various locales in and
around Connecticut.
Currently,
this is as far as I’ve gotten.
OK: Any upcoming events?
Tinseltown Riff, a Hollywood escapade, is
scheduled to be released some time this spring. It’s a story that straddles the
line between illusion and reality, fantasy and danger as it delves into the
loopiest business on earth. An L.A.
film agent recently wrote that even though she loves the milieu and the
dynamics, Ben, my desperate hack screenwriter is basically a nice guy and nice
guys aren’t trending right now. My publisher doesn’t agree. Hopefully readers
will side with my publisher.
OK: Do you have any advice for new writers and something that
a seasoned vet can learn?
I suppose the toughest thing is to
try to come to terms with the new realities. There was a time when you could
devote your energy toward honing your craft, refining your voice, deepening
your work. Then after, say, getting some expert editorial advice, polishing a
final draft and trying to get a good agent or sending the novel off to
appropriate publishers. Nowadays, with the burden of salesmanship on the
shoulders of writers, and through the relative ease of self-publishing, anyone
and everyone it seems can call themselves an author. Not only that, they flood
the Web and social media with self-advertisements (“buy me, buy me . . like me
and I’ll do the same for you . . . my e-book is now only 99 cents, what a
bargain . . . ”). As a result, it’s become harder to maintain any integrity. At
a recent major writers conference in Portland,
Oregon I was repeatedly advised
that top flight agents and publishers receive at least 200 unsolicited
submissions a day. If you can make personal contact and they like your pitch,
they will still only read the first few pages. If they’re hooked, are convinced
you’re a professional writer and think you’re on to something marketable,
they’ll ask for more.
I know this is a long answer to
your question, but I’ve reached the point that the only thing that makes sense
for me is to concentrate on my work, send it to my independent publisher when I
think it’s ready, take the advice of my editor who will inevitably find
glitches here and there, do what I can to help promote the book when it comes
out and devote most of my spare time to the creative process.
OK: Where can your
followers find you?
Twitter: @shellyFrome Amazon: Shelly Frome; author central Facebook,
Google +, Goodreads, Linkedin
info@sunburypress.com
OK: Thank you for stopping by Shelly!
