Tag Archives: writing blocks

It’s really Thelma’s movie

One of the first things writers learn is that good drama means your characters change, either for better or worse, within the scope of the story.
Why is change so important?
Because it doesn’t happen without conflict, which keeps the motor of our story running. That lesson really struck me to the core when I took a screenwriting class. The instructor used the example of “Thelma and Louise.” Whose movie was it? he asked.
It was Thelma’s and Louise’s, we answered.
No. Who was the person who was different at the end of the movie?
The answer is Thelma. She started out as a mealy housewife who had the fortitude of a Twinkie. At the end, she found strength and resolve. Louise’s personality didn’t really change. So it was Thelma’s story.
Another example, “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” Sure, the movie seemed to focus on that charming and funny Ferris. But did he change during the course of the movie? The answer is no, again. The movie really belonged to Cameron, Ferris’s friend. Cameron went from a kid afraid of his father and afraid of life to a young man who would stand up to his father and therefore, to life.
One more example, “The Shawshank Remptiomption.” Is it really Andy Dufresne’s movie? No siree. It is Red’s, who began the film as a man who dared not to hope and ended as a man who looked toward hope as he met his friend in Mexico.
Whenever I watch a movie or read a book where there is little, no, or God forbid, superficial change in the characters, I feel unsatisfied.
Not all change has to be for the good, nor does it have to be a lightning bolt from God. It can be subtle as silk. Take the recent movie, “The Ides of March” (and here comes the spoiler alert). Stephen Meyers, played by Ryan Gosling, works for a presidential candidate played by George Clooney, who also directed and co-wrote the movie. Stephen starts as a true believer in his candidate and loves being in the thick of the campaign. After learning a secret about the candidate and becoming a victim of dirty behind-the-scenes politics, Stephen also digs in the dirt to stay in the game. He changes for the worse by becoming the very thing he hates.
Of course, some characters are so iconic they don’t seem to or have to change, such as Sherlock Holmes. And there is much joy in watching them make sense of chaos. Still, I think about how much more depth to those stories if Sherlock had showed change. The game is afoot.

–Patricia Santos Marcantonio

Question of the month

Everyone has a story to tell. What’s yours?

You may think you have nothing to say but, did you ever consider the sheer miracle of your birth, your existence, your identity? Contemplate for a moment — when a specific sperm penetrated a specific egg you were conceived and began to grow. If for some reason your parents had not had intimate relations at that fateful moment you would not exist.
Now take it back a generation — if one of your grandmothers had had a headache and said “not tonight dear”, either your father or your mother would not have been conceived and would not exist. If one or the other of your parents had not been conceived you would not exist either. This thread of conception goes all the way back to the beginning of time and if it had been broken at any point along the way you would not be. Talk about unique.
I have two dogs who are about as different as possible. One is a beautiful specimen, a Russian blue bull terrier, 50 pounds, with nicely defined muscles. She is a princess and knows that she is aesthetically pleasing to the eye. She poses a lot and allows her admirers to enjoy the view when she is around. My other dog is full sized, 45 pounds, with practically no legs at all, they are so short. She is a clown, a cross between a lab and corgi, with floppy ears and a tail. She looks like she should have a round red rubber nose and oversized shoes on her feet. If my dogs could write, their stories would be interesting each in its own way.
Whether you are a beautiful princess, a clown, or a mere human being you are the result of a million years of selective or chance breading, have a unique story to tell, and an obligation to tell it. It is one of a kind never to be duplicated.

Dixie Thomas Reale