Why "Validation" Works

In a scriptwriting class I audited, we watched this short film, a delightful comedy that everyone seemed to love.

The question is, why? Really, there are a lot of clichés that we should have been booing halfway through the film. But we didn’t. Watch it for yourself if you haven’t already. Then, here are the reasons I think “Validation” shouldn’t work, and why it does anyway.

Super Cheerful Protagonist: If the movie had ended halfway through, I probably would have punched our enthusiastic parking attendant in the face. Because while his compliments might have been nice, they didn’t feel sincere at all. I was almost grateful when someone finally rejected him, because a little suffering made him seem more like a real person. The change that he goes through during the film makes him into a better, more relatable character by the end, and it was that change that justified his too-happy persona at the beginning of the film.

Puns: Generally, people hate puns. The very title of this film is a pun for the main plot device. Which is probably why it works—it’s the premise, one that we are told to buy into from the very beginning. Characters who make dumb puns as punchlines usually aren’t compelling. A pun as a concept that supports other humorous elements? That can work.

You Know How This Is Going To End: Was there ever any chance he wouldn’t get the girl? Of course not. But we all wanted him to, so it was okay that the plot wasn’t super complex with a dramatic twist ending.

General Corniness: Yes, there are so many things about this short film that are completely corny. But you can tell from the set-up that the writer knew it was corny…and did it anyway. The song-and-dance number, the melodramatic lovestruck-ness of the protagonist (with accompanying facial expressions), the clips of celebrities, and the ridiculously stoic love interest are all telling the audience “We are not taking this seriously. And neither should you. Just enjoy it.”

We like change, character growth, fulfilled dreams, and happily-ever-after-endings. “Validation” does all of those things, and it does them well. So despite not wanting to like this short film at first…I loved it.

And I smiled at the end. So sue me.

A Non-Philosophical Introduction to Aristotle’s Triangle

In high school, I learned that there are basically three ways to get anybody to agree with you.

It would be much easier if they were just magic words. Or some kind of subliminal message you could write in light gray text in the margins of your essay. Actually, like most worthwhile things in life, this takes work. It involves Aristotle’s triangle of rhetoric.

If I didn’t lose you at that last sentence, you’re probably giving me one shot to make this interesting. Please take a moment to picture the triangle lit on fire, with a bunch of motorcyclists shooting arrows through it.

Very good. Thank you.

If you want a more philosophical explanation, read about it here. But these are the basics. When you’re writing or speaking something to persuade someone else, there are three general approaches that work together to make what you say more convincing.

7 Writing Cliches to Avoid

Everyone knows you’re not supposed to include clichés in writing. Unfortunately, a lot of people do. This is how certain scenes, lines of dialogue, and techniques become clichés in the first place. The following is a public service announcement, telling you what’s already been done so you can do something more original.

Don’t be ashamed if you recognize some of these in your writing—I’ve written a few myself.

But also don’t say, “Well, mine will be different. Mine is necessary.” It’s probably not. Think of something new and creative.

1. Starting with an alarm clock.

            There are all sorts of ways to start a chapter or a story. Don’t choose this one. In fact, unless something extremely interesting happens to your protagonist the second he wakes up, you’re probably starting too early anyway. Begin in the middle of the action.

            If the alarm clock blows up, is actually an alien robot in disguise, or isn’t there because the protagonist wakes up in a room he’s never seen before, then you can start with an alarm clock. But only then.

2. Having a character pass a mirror so you can describe what he/she looks like.

            The “mirror technique” can be extended to include any description that sounds awkward to readers, from, “she combed her fingers through her light brown, slightly wavy hair,” to “he stared at her with his piercing blue-green eyes.” These kinds of descriptions sound like the author is frantically trying to tell the reader something. Real description should blend in, and probably won’t come all at once the first time we meet a character.

            Some safe ways of doing physical description that feel more natural: comparing the character to a family member and describing similarities or differences, showing the character thinking about what he doesn’t like about his appearance, mentioning only a few unusual features that characterize that person, having someone make fun of or compliment the character’s appearance, and anything else that involves some other relevant action or dialogue.

In Which I Apologize to a Fictional Character

I’ve never been really into the whole anti-hero thing. Recently, I realized that all of the main characters in my stories, while flawed in certain ways, have some things in common: they’re intelligent, they have a strong sense of justice, and they love other people.

Right now, I’m working on a story with a character named Barton.

Barton is a rude, anti-social assassin. Not exactly my typical hero.

He’s not as smart as I am, and he’s also fairly impulsive. This is annoying because I think of all of these great, complicated plans that would solve all of his problems, but I can’t realistically make them happen because Barton wouldn’t do them. (Those of you who don't understand the idea that the characters in some way determine what the author can and can't do...just trust me on this.)

He does not work well with people. In fact, when he can help it, he doesn’t work with people at all. This is annoying because everyone knows that when you have a big challenge to overcome and several people around with different skills, teamwork is the best way to go. Not alienating everyone around you by bossing them around and insulting them. That doesn’t work out so well.

He’s probably the hardest character I’ve ever worked with. And this is annoying because it shows that I am an immature writer who has some work to do. Writing Barton made me see very clearly that I tend to give my protagonists certain traits, keep their weaknesses in areas I’m comfortable with, and make them, well, kind of like me.

Candy Land Writing

Candy Land is one of the most frustrating games in the world to play. The second you think you’re about to win the whole thing and take over Candy Castle, you get the stupid gumdrop card and have to go all the way back to the Gumdrop Mountain. Or your opponent picks up the Queen Frostine card at the very beginning while you’re still stuck in the Molasses Mud Swamp.

Once you’ve learned your colors and fine motor skills, there’s very little point to the game, because it’s mostly dumb luck. You can stumble through the game without any skill, unless it’s the skill of stacking the deck. (I’ve seen a six-year-old try that with jelly-sticky fingers and a guilty look…so subtle.)

So don’t make your stories Candy Land. This may seem silly, but I’ve seen it happen a lot. Here are some examples:

All Sugar, No Substance: These are the stories full of pretty people, witty dialogue, and bright colors. Whee! Fun! But these stories don’t last, and they don’t mean anything. At the risk of assigning a cause-effect where it doesn’t belong, I might even say they don’t last because they don’t mean anything. I’m not saying that you have to work a heavy-handed moral into your story or have everyone die tragically at the end. Just don’t focus so much on funny one-liners or a clever plot twist that you miss the point of storytelling.

Test Your Villain IQ

I’ve seen way too many antagonists who are portrayed as evil geniuses, but then do something that the average fifth grader would realize is a bad idea. Writers need to create consistently intelligent villains because…

A.     Readers won’t be afraid of someone who is dumber than they are. When I read a story, I instantly lose respect for a villain when he does something stupid for no good reason.

B.     Even though the villain’s stupid mistake might allow the hero to save the day, would it really feel rewarding? If you have to dumb down your antagonist to find a way for your protagonist to succeed, your climax won’t be as compelling or your resolution as satisfying.

C.     You don’t want people to make fun of your villain. Villains usually have low self esteem problems to begin with. No need to add to that.

Here’s a quiz to see if you are smarter than the average villain/henchman, just to point out some of the most common mistakes villains will make.

Note: If you stumbled on this blog post because you’re a megalomaniac dictator who wants to take over the world, oppress the innocent, etc., congratulations! You’ve come to the right place. Although this quiz is mainly for writers, you, too, can learn from the mistakes of other nefarious characters like yourself. Welcome.

What Mafia Taught Me About Antagonists

Just so everyone is clear, we are talking about Mafia the game. It is not, in fact, some kind of assassination spree where we smoke cigars and talk in strange accents. The basic premise is much less violent: everyone gets a card that indicates whether they are a citizen or a mafia member. Before each round, the mafia members kill someone, and at the end of each round, the citizens lynch someone, attempting to get the mafia out of the game.

Besides being a very fun and entertaining game (especially the Star Wars version), Mafia has taught me three things about making my villains more complex. Here they are:

1. The antagonists we dislike the most are the ones we once trusted.

My sister is a master of this one. When she’s the mafia, she’ll talk to people on either side of her and get them to trust her. They work together the whole game…until my sister is killed and reveals her true, sinister nature. Or, even more likely, when she wins and all the citizens are dead. Looking back, the citizens can see exactly how they were manipulated, but, at the time, they never saw it coming.

Let me tell you, that kind of backstabbing betrayal makes for a very dramatic scene. The same is true for writing. Sometimes, it’s good to have a villain we love to hate. When the sides are clearly drawn in the battle of good and evil, we all know that the guy dressed in black on the black horse with the black skull-adorned weapon is the bad guy.

At other times, though, it’s fun to use an antagonist who isn’t so obvious. When the protagonist (or even some of the minor characters) trust a character who then turns on them, that’s interesting – if it’s done well.

Sabbath Reflections: Writing in a Minor Key

Thanksgiving is over. This means I can officially write blog posts about Christmas.

If you weren’t aware of this deadline, it’s probably because you are either surrounded by happy-go-lucky elves who started playing carols after Labor Day or Grinches who might work up a tiny scrap of holiday cheer by Christmas Eve. Maybe.

However, let me assure any doubters out there that this is a legitimate, if somewhat arbitrary measurement. So here we go.

One of my favorite Christmas carols is “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” You know why?

Because it’s in a minor key.

Five Things Characters Are Not

Writers are supposed to create characters. Nothing wrong there.

But sometimes we get this mad-scientist-type sense of power from the process: I can create anyone to do anything I want. BWAHAHAHAHA! (Or however you transcribe an evil laugh.)

As it turns out, we can’t do anything we want with our characters. There are some rules of believability, and the people holding us to those rules, our readers, don’t want us to be mad scientists. (Yeah, I know. I was disappointed too. That was one of my main career goals.)

Here are some things I’ve learned not to do when creating characters.