Feedback on the Course.
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Vajra Krishna
Jul 5, 2009, 5:49:48 PM7/5/09
to Screenwriting India
Hi guys. Sharing the transcript of my feedback to the course co-
ordinators, bearing in mind that Anjum and Kamal asked for this
information to help them fine-tune their next course. Thought it may
help others here who wanted to know more about what happened during
the course and what was taught:
It has been just about a month since the International Screenwriting
Workshop concluded, and I have needed this time to let the intensive
course settle and digest – to go from conscious to subconscious before
I could even venture a feedback. I am certain this will be a
continuous process, and with each day will recognise the wisdom
offered by the experienced lecturers in new light. Yet at this point,
I have gathered hold of the reigns enough to be able to voice my
thoughts on what transpired.
I suppose the first step here would be to explain a little on where I
am coming from so that my feedback on the Workshop will have a clearer
perspective for you. The first screenwriting course I did was back in
1998, in Canberra University, Australia. I distinctly remember the
lecturer expounding on the 3 Act Screenplay, but most especially I
recall that being my first introduction to the Hero’s journey. Perhaps
it was a lack of life experience and foresight, or perhaps it was the
nature of the course itself, but I remember the Hero’s journey being a
weak and finicky set of guidelines lacking in any real sense of depth.
I quickly forgot all about it and moved on.
Now it has been 10 years, and I feel I have come full circle – once
again revisiting the Hero’s Journey through Anjum Rajabali’s
crystalline insight; and suddenly it is made clear to me at a point
where I have the capacity to better understand it. You see, 10 years
ago I had an inkling of why I wanted to be a storyteller... I dreamed
about creating paradigm shifts through my stories and films; shifts in
the way people thought and viewed the world. Since I myself had a
small taste of this profound effect that a few films can have, I was
determined that the craft was a worthwhile investment of the soul.
But the idea of investigating life and its meaning through
storytelling was functionally lost on me. It existed only as an
instinctive knowing that yes – this is possible! But on the whole, as
much as I exasperated, I was unable to fuel insight and wisdom into my
stories. For that, I suppose, I needed to live a little. To fall down,
and rise up – and understand the profound miracle of what it means to
rise up. I went in search of experience, and gave everything up –
travelled a lot, lived as a hermit for a few years and threw myself
into strange spiritual paradoxes that ordinarily passes you by. In
effect, I was merely gathering material. Which inevitably comes to a
point where you empty your cup and realise the material was within you
all along. Even for that, you need to come full circle.
Coming full circle, Anjum begins to explain the Hero’s journey like a
flaming arrow going to the crux of storytelling itself: Mythology
helps us understand interiority. I had pondered mythology like a
lifeline, I had written compulsively to externalise internal
thoughts... yet this insight was a vital link that I had hitherto not
anticipated. It validated and made sense of years of rich material
that I was waiting to put to use. Suddenly, under the very construct
of Anjum’s musings on the Hero’s Journey, my mind cleared and
everything seemed to fall into place – options were made available
where none seemed possible. Perhaps it seems I am overstating, yet
believe me, for one who is intensely passionate about going to the
heart of any given thing, this was a revelation. Mythology was not
merely good material for me – it has been the pulse of a mystical
creation symbolically told. The idea that we can fathom our own
existence by our stories was always present, the door was visible and
closed – but I needed the key.
After that moment, the course became transformative. At this point let
me retrack a bit to set the scene... The second course on
screenwriting I did was in 2004 with an Australian writer/filmmaker
named Leslie Oliver. He brought a unique insight to storytelling that
I don’t think I will ever forget – not merely for the fact that it is
so simple but also that it is so revealing. He explained that
“character is story, story is character.” I know we speak often in
screenwriting circles about the importance of character, but few go so
far as to state this inexplicable link. Most of the time, we find a
difference between our stories and our characters, but not with
Leslie. His technique was to observe the obscure moments of life by
which to fathom a character that invokes us to explore him or her, and
in placing that character into a conflicting situation, we see them
develop. He felt that nothing else is really needed except this, in
order to tell a powerful story. He spoke about writing as akin to
sculpting; what you are doing in effect is chipping away on a slab of
stone to uncover the nightingale already waiting within it.
This was so far removed from my first course in Screenwriting, which
was formulaic in comparison, that after the course with Leslie Oliver,
I seemed to find most of the other available courses were expounding
mainly on the dastardly “character arc”, and I lost interest in going
to any more workshops. Of course I was developing stories along the
way, and getting stuck with some. Festering – I should say, living
with my stories for years, developing them slowly. Time passed. Much
happened.
I felt a certain knack for creating a breathtaking symmetry in
skeletal framework for my screenplays, and it wasn’t until recently
that suddenly my entire understanding of storytelling was shattered by
an American playwright/screenwriter named Billy Marshall-Stoneking. At
the culmination of 2008, just as I was arranging to come to India, I
stumbled across Stoneking’s advert for his screenwriting course. He
spoke of mediumistic, tribal storytelling. Mediumistic?! Tribal?!
These words resonated deeply, as quite a part of my life was engaged
in mediumistic spirituality – where ethereal beings were simply
“channelled” into the body (the owner of the body handing control for
a few moments), whilst the visitor inhabited. And it rang true, the
moment I read two otherwise unrelated words grouped side by side.
Mediumistic storytelling. Billy was a man who had spent a large part
of his life living with aboriginal tribes and assimilating a sense of
universal storytelling through a powerfully primal form – from the
very origins of tribal consciousness.
Yes, it made sense. I had passed across several writers who spoke of
living with their characters, of their characters voices in their
heads, of their characters existing in their own right. I had always
found this very intangible, as I only heard one voice in my head.
Mine. No one elses (or so I thought). So, the entire idea of having a
conversation with someone other than myself in my mind was more than a
little unfathomable. Yet I longed for that intimacy I had read authors
speak of in interviews – that profound intimacy with their characters
where they even speak to them. Until then the sort of intimacy I
shared with my characters were more the fodder of potent emotions
begging exploration, rather than voices. Yet that is semantics really.
Where the emotions manifest as thoughts, or vice versa, is almost
seamless.
I decided to be honest and emailed Billy, explaining to him that I’ve
been through a whole load of courses on screenwriting and have hardly
come across anything new these days, so I would very much appreciate
it if he would be forthcoming with me whether he’s got anything new to
say or not. Yes, I was blunt, but respectful. His reply was to
enigmatically encourage me to come along. And, as curiosity always
gets the better of me, I went along to see what he had to say –
without judgement.
What transpired was my mind shut down – not in any negative sense, but
in the profound realisation that every rule I seemed to have set
myself about screenwriting flew out the window. Because Billy was
speaking of “dramatic storytelling” in a freshness that invoked,
provoked the listener to drop their ideology and approach
screenwriting with utter vulnerability. Let me summarise the kind of
thinking he directed at you to confound everything you thought you
knew for a fact:
• The whole thing is about transforming: every scene should hold a
transformation.
• Dramatic intelligence is the art of becoming present.
• The intersection of the origins of the characters with the origins
of the writer is what brings freshness to a story.
• You’re dealing with dead people, and you’re trying to make them
alive. You are also dead. You become alive by writing... They are
dreaming you, and you are dreaming them.
• The fundamental question you must ask yourself: What is your
character fighting for?
• Drama is really an exploration of frustrated desires. Drama is
essentially about anxiety and overcoming anxiety.
• Who is it that you are speaking for? Or more intimately: who is
speaking through you?
• The truth is revealed in the face of opposition.
• We must journey on as if we are blind – if we look down, we will
fall.
• Write the story that terrifies you the most. Go into the mouth of
Kali.
• The screenplay world and your world are inexplicably connected...
And whatever you do in one world will impact the other.
• Art never explains. Every time you explain what you are trying to
do, you are trying to avoid a fear!
• The one thing of no use to a dramatic storyteller is knowledge,
because knowledge gets in the way.
• This is the art of the invisible! In what is not said. In what is
not shown.
• There are characters that want to come out. That are imprisoned by
the writer’s fears. We project our fears and that drops the potential
the characters actually have.
• When we hit the wall, we have to drop our expectations, because the
wall is a manifestation of our expectations.
It is this aspect of hitting the “wall”, that was the crux of his
unique way of seeing this ancient artform. That, inevitably, in every
story, the writer and his characters will reach a point of critical
conflict where he is forced to live it through his characters – and at
this point most writers take the cowards way out. They resort to some
rationality, some formulaic way out of the insurmountable situation.
And if they do, the story will lose all its power and worth. It is at
this point – at this wall, that one must drop everything they think
they know, and step into the unknown. Become intuitive rather than
intellectual. I would say there is rarely a screenwriting course that
approaches storytelling with such bravery. This bravery was deeply
appealing, as I had always considered good writing as that rare gift
of pouring the depths of your soul onto paper. It felt like a code of
honour only wielded by the warrior-poets. For they will not succumb,
even in their words.
So it came to be that when I was at the right place at the right time,
and invited to attend the RKF International Screenwriting Workshop, I
decided to come without any expectations. In several ways Billy had
created more questions than answers, and I was unable to pick up the
pieces myself. I was stuck as to understand how to push my story ideas
forward because his course had demanded of me a complete relinquishing
of myself. It had demanded me to set myself aside and let the
characters write through me.
I succeeded, and through the workshop created stories where I was so
utterly surprised by the outcome, and since my own transformation was
honest, I could see its effect on the audience. But as for applying
this methodology to stories I had already developed upto treatment
stage, I was unable to find the balance. This is not to say that my
previous stories were so manufactured that they needed to be
discarded. Rather, I am an unrelenting perfectionist – and I wished to
imbue my entire body of work with this newfound insight. I realised
that I had been hearing the voices of my characters all along, yet my
fear had been stifling them.
I think you may understand now why I opted to give this explanation of
what brought me to the point of your workshop, as it does set the
scene in revealing what transpired within me throughout the phenomenal
six days.
Firstly, I did not expect for Anjum, Hariharan and the majority of
speakers to extol this very same bravery from us in our writing. That
took me by surprise, and it was then that I realised that I was right
where I was supposed to be. To divulge step by step:
DAY 1: PREMISE/CHARACTERISATION.
I have believed for a long while now that the real meaning of
“literacy” is not the assimilation of information, but rather – to
learn the skill of questioning what is before you – not taking
anything as a given, but discovering for yourself. For that to work,
the uniqueness of the individual is imperative. It is this uniqueness
that produces originality, and I had a deepening sense of relief to
witness that Kamal Haasan and the lecturers were acutely aware of this
and were giving it utmost importance.
For a long time now in screenwriting circles the premise had been
taught to be the fundamental moral of the story – the core “message”
of the film. Yet on day one of the RKFI Course, Anjum explained the
premise to be something else entirely – although he acknowledged that
it is often known to be a moral, he insisted that a premise is better
known as the “lock” of the story. That is, the culminating incident to
which the entire story is built up, and thus resolved.
At first, I didn’t see why this difference in definition was even
necessary, but as I began to ponder the issue, and moreover, apply it
to my own stories, it soon became crystalline that this particular use
of premise is far more useful in the construction of a screenplay.
Because we are then dealing with the crux of the story itself, its
very backbone, and thereby are constantly aware of where we are going
off on tangents, or staying true to the heart of the story. As opposed
to a moral or theme, which may speak for subtext, but on the whole
does not define the constructs and motivations of the characters.
It became apparent that this particular definition of premise is most
elevating for a writer on his/her journey of discovering characters
and the situation of conflict they find themselves in. It brings focus
on the conflict in very specific terms – relatable only to the story
being told – it enables the writer to be unique and fresh in the
telling. Suddenly, the “premise” had a use in the process of writing,
and was no longer a musing on the tale.
Hariharan then presented, in his analysis of characterisation, what
appeared at first notice to be an opposing approach. Whilst Anjum was
fused with conviction in the intuitive magic that exists within
writing, and was presenting ways in which to allow such intuition to
“reveal” itself to the writer, Hariharan seemed passionate about the
mechanics – about construction in a surprisingly mathematical
precision. I would guess that for most delegates at the course, this
would have posed an element of choice – of deciding one way or
another. It certainly did for me, as I felt at home with the fire of
intuition that Anjum had spoken of, and had often dismissed the need
to totally intellectualise or feign the mechanics of the writing
process. I am certain others would have felt more at home with the
mechanics, and perhaps even puzzled at the notion of giving so much
importance to intuition.
Yet, I was sitting in the course with already a dilemma at the back of
my mind. The one that Billy had created, by persuading me with fine
fuzzy zen-like logic to do away with any sort of mechanical approach –
which I had on the whole found next to impossible. No matter how
intuitively culminated, there would always be a strong mechanics in
the structure of my stories that I was unable to do away with.
Pondering the contradicting approaches of both Hariharan and Anjum, it
eventually dawned on me that this is indeed a right brain/left brain
issue. That is, the optimum function of an individual is when both are
in balance, when creativity and logic are simultaneously active and
complimentary to the other. Suddenly, Hariharan and Anjum did not seem
so far apart, and in imagining how both can be applied to the process
of writing, slowly a clarity began to settle upon me.
For this reason, I felt it remarkable that the course syllabus was
formed to represent two (or more) seemingly opposing ideas as a
tangible whole. This aspect of opposing ideas co-existing was a
recurring theme throughout the course, and one of its crowning virtues
– it oft reminded me of the tantric saying: “The truth can only ever
be told in the contradictions. Or... in silence.”
If anything, it would have placed the attentive listener in the
predicament of not walking away with set rules and constructs – but
rather inspired an openness to the writing process itself. In a
worldwide education system that is surely failing because of its
spotlight upon memorising a panorama of rules (and soon forgetting
them), I was kindled with a vigour to witness a better method of
teaching.
DAY2: STRUCTURE.
The finely tuned exploration of how a dilemma is built to a critical
mass – being the engrossing topic of the second day. A few of the
things that really stood out for me and have instilled themselves
implicitly are:
• Change can only happen in a person capable of change.
• The nature of heroism is unintentional – a man is provoked into
heroic acts – and heroism is not in and of itself a grounding motive.
• Tragedies are where characters are unable to resolve their dilemma.
• Subplots throw light on hidden dimensions of the main plot.
• Theory of dialectics: The opposite of something exists within
itself.
In essence, the fundamental lesson here was that there must be an
internal conflict within every powerful scene or sequence, a conflict
that reveals itself through subtext or subplots, all intimately
linking back to the premise. At this point, the premise becomes
infinitely pivotal – every moment of the film holds a premise,
contributing to an underlying premise that drives energy to the entire
story.
Ultimately bringing home the essential masterstroke of every piece of
art – show, don’t tell.
Of course, this point is made almost always in writing courses, yet to
demonstrate the point also requires a lucidity that gives the student
enough breath to recompose and integrate it into himself. For this
reason, I valued Anjum’s approach – he had carefully highlighted the
underlying facet of conflict as in itself revealing the subtext. This
essentially enables the aspiring writer to not find subtexts so
mysterious. Which meant only intuition would decide the immaculate and
fresh circumstances in which the characters find themselves.
Yet even this intuition is more guided by observing life, rather than
observing film – it is a dance between the two – of translating those
obscure moments that are so definitive of life into the language of
film. So, the premise is more about deriving meaning out of existence,
meaning on existence itself – that is the invariable link between life
and film – every moment of every situation becomes meaningful in
stories, and thereby gives meaning to life. Stories become sacred
because they eradicate the pointlessness of existence. They become
mythic because they remind the lost about the forgotten.
Everything became tangible here for me – it is essentially about
dilemma, and surprisingly, a dilemma of the soul, making it an
exploration of spirit – even if, in film, it seems simply like a
character exploration. For why else is a character invoked into
heroism, and into changing, if not to better himself into something
intuitive. Why else is a writer invoked to forsake all knowledge and
write with a divining sense of intuition, had it not been proved
through the ages that only this kind of writing creates timeless art.
More than about character, it was about the spirit within the
character. For otherwise, intuition (and instinct) would not be so
crucial. It would simply be another word receiving lip-service.
DAY 3: DIALOGUE & DECONSTRUCTION
This was the central letdown in the course. Through all that Atul
Tiwari was expounding, be it the history of dialogue writing, and
especially examples of the best forms of dialogue – the one thing, the
primary thing – that he neglected to divulge was the PROCESS of
dialogue writing itself. I did ask a few questions pertaining to his
writing process, but did not get an insightful response.
The main aspect of dialogue writing (especially in Indian films) is
that quite often screenplay and dialogue are not written by the same
people. Yet Anjum had spoken at length about the necessity to spend an
intimate amount of time living and breathing your characters,
imagining them living alongside you and better understanding their
motivations and characteristics. So much investment is made upon the
characters to understand the emotions that rule them.
Having bled with your characters, finally you emerge out of the dark
night with a reckoning screenplay, and are about to collaborate with a
dialogue writer. I have full faith in the specific mastery of dialogue
writing – I understand that it is entirely a different skill to
writing screenplay or understanding time and space pertaining to plot.
It is for this very reason that I wanted to delve deeper into this
skill of the dialogue writer, to see how he is so quickly able to
assimilate the characters that the screenwriter has been developing
for months, and furthermore to understand their vocabulary and style
and manner of speech. Hopefully in future courses this aspect of
dialogue writing would be explored for the students. A greater focus
on process would be far more helpful, I feel, rather than a
demonstration of the history and evolution of dialogue writing (unless
this evolution also is made to tie in to the “process”).
I am glad however, that the lecturers chose to emphasise that one must
think of the characters as having an “independent” personality – that
you, in effect, are not creating these characters, but pushing them,
reacting to them, and evolving and transforming with them. You are
walking beside them, not manufacturing them out of lego pieces.
The revealing of how subtext is used in films was quite instructive.
It was a divulging into the “non-active” power that exists in films.
The power of the silence, the power of what is not said. Nothing
offers as much window into reality and the exploration of real
dilemmas as the use of “what is not shown.” As Eisenstein would put
it; “the art of the invisible.”
Which inevitably lead to the deconstruction of the screenplay,
lectured by Hariharan. Immediately beginning with the proposition:
Consider time also as a character. I was astonished to witness the
detail to which the 7 minute intro sequence of Satyajit Ray’s film was
broken apart and analysed with piercing and remarkable judgement.
Without exaggeration, I sat mesmerised, and secretly hoped that
Hariharan would continue to analyse the entire film with this prowess
of film language.
With illuminating precision, the nature of the objective/subjective
link in film was explored, coaxing the eager student to grasp the
rudiments of great storytelling.
DAY 4: HERO’S JOURNEY, PROCESS & INDUSTRIAL ASPECTS.
“A writer’s inspiration enters you through your fingertips.” – Anjum
Rajabali.
There are things we instinctively know – things like the virtues: no
one ever disagrees that to be a hypocrite is a vice, not a virtue. And
that to be honourable is a virtue. These aren’t social rules, or
political ones. It is intrinsic to our very being. That is the essence
of instinctive knowing – where suddenly your tribal or cultural
affiliations, or where you come from doesn’t make you so different to
the rest of us, because there is an underlying unification in our
consciousness.
However, as much as we have this knowing, we are for the most part
unable to see the heart of it, see the fodder from which it comes, and
how it manifests. For this very reason, for a long time I believed in
the power of storytelling, yet was unable to find the words to express
its imminent role in one’s identity. Because for the most part, people
would rather convince themselves that stories are merely a squandering
type of entertainment to escape boredom. This superficial idea is
often so powerful a paradigm, that entertainment itself seems to have
succumbed to this very definition, and attempted to do just that –
quell boredom.
The thunderous roar of the warrior-poets, who would weave stories in
the hearts of their countrymen to inspire courage, to dispel fear, and
to mostly, urge them to discover themselves – all of this innate power
of storytelling is often forgotten. So it was, that when Anjum
divulged the apex of the hero’s journey as essentially the facing of
oneself (as proposed by Joseph Campbell), everything fell into place
like the difficulty of a jigsaw puzzle being finally resolved.
Suddenly I had means in which to speak of that which I have devoted my
life to – storytelling itself – I had means in which to speak of its
dominating influence within society without being vague, or sceptical.
Since that day, I had shared the very same insight I had learnt to
several acquaintances during dinner gatherings, and have witnessed the
clarity and power that settled over them to understand the real nature
of stories.
Mythology in itself is a misunderstood word. I remember a few years
back deciding to read about Jesus not as a historical figure, but as a
fictional character – and was surprised to find how much more power he
had over me, how much more influence. I then tried the same with the
ancient Puranas, and to date have rarely come across stories so rich.
Does it matter if it is fact, or fiction? More to the point, is
fiction, by definition, a mark of what is not real... or is it that
which signifies everything we value to be real! Therein lies its
power.
Isn’t it so that the wisdom within the myths are more valuable than
the question of whether it really happened? As Campbell repeats again
and again, myths exists to show us solutions to our own dilemmas.
Science itself is more an assertion of what has not been “proved”
wrong, rather than what has been proved right. To the discriminating
eye, there are no facts, and fictions become far more magical – magic
itself becomes the reality. This is why writers give up the world,
this is why they bleed, why they want to relinquish their own souls in
order to discover themselves through their stories.
Just as the character discovers himself at the culmination of the
hero’s journey, the writer is being transformed alongside him. But
only if he is approaching it in an intuitive process! Which is why
Anjum was insistent on this specific kind of writing, as was Billy.
The hero’s journey, ultimately, is the visual representation of an
otherwise invisible struggle of self discovery. Of facing your own
fears. These things, quite often, happen in darkness, it happens often
without anyone close to you ever discovering what you are going
through. Yet with these stories, the world can intimately relate to
you, because it is what they themselves are experiencing. This is why
they revisit the majestic cinema!
Coming full circle – on this day, the pieces fell into place, and all
the contradictions of storytelling that I had learnt became a potent
oneness of expression.
The afternoon of the fourth day amassed a step-by-step analysis of how
to create stories for the film industry. A tasteful and grounded
counterpart to the deeply invigorating morning.
DAY 5 – DAY 6 – GUEST SPEAKERS.
I think what was very validating for the students was watching the
guest lecturers speak about screenwriting within the same constructs
and with the same approach as what was impressed upon us within the
first four days. Especially since the guest lecturers/filmmakers were
totally unaware of what transpired in the last four days in the
course, the very fact that their own sharing and experiences
corroborated with what was taught affirmed that we were not dealing
with theories here, but applications.
Although the fifth and sixth day was an amalgamation of some brilliant
minds within the international film fraternity, there is one issue
that I wish you to consider: The writers/filmmakers who spoke to us
did not seem so tuned-in to the kind of information we really wanted
from them. It was not loaded with the essential wisdom a budding
screenwriter desperately needs. It lacked the tightness of the first
four days. Every now and then the celebrities would make a statement
that was amazingly illuminating, but for the most part they seemed to
talk in tangents. I think the purpose of having seminars in the last
two days was to very specifically study the guest speakers’ process
and development with screenwriting. Sometimes though I got the feeling
the guest lecturers forgot this.
Perhaps if the prominent writers had it in their mind to speak to
“themselves as beginners”, and to tell themselves the kind of things
they would have wanted to know, it could improve the course immensely.
Instead, for quite a substantial amount of the two days, what we
received was a history of what these writers/filmmakers have been
through... or worse, some industrial trivia that was no help
whatsoever. Reflecting back on the mistake by Atul Tiwari in
describing the history of dialogue writing, perhaps it is easier for a
person who is unprepared to describe the history of things without
ever going to the heart of it. I do request that you find some
solutions to avoid this in future.
I must add here that this does not apply to the entirety of the last
two days. Jean Claude Carriere, for example, seemed enamoured with
naught else but the intricate process of screenwriting, and spoke
lucidly about the mechanisms in which to understand it. Aside from
that, each of the speakers every now and then delivered some striking
wisdom that either affirmed or violently contradicted what was taught
to us in the first four days. Either way, I took them both to be
valid, because by then I had understood that the confusion that comes
from contradictions is more helpful than harmful.
By the end of it all, I remember still being a little puzzled about
what was said about dialogue writing, so I approached Rituparno Ghosh
(his film from the night before, Dosar, still fresh on my mind), and
questioned him about his prowess in writing such fresh dialogue.
I said, “How do you write your dialogues?”
He replied, “After a point, my characters write the dialogues.”
That seemed to summarise it all, and I have meditate upon that insight
ever since.
Some unforgettable statements:
“Mythology is the need to contextualise oneself. Mythology deals with
denials and the understanding of denials.” – Shekhar Kapur.
“Scriptwriting is about how to catch the desire of the audience and
how to hold that desire. What is credible is whatever the spectator
desires.” – Olivier Lorelle.
“The rules of scriptwriting is nothing but a shortcut to a point of
choicelessness.” – Shekhar Kapur.
“Language is a miserably inadequate medium to express the richness of
emotions, and that is what makes its inadequacy a fantastic subtext.”
– Balu Mahendra.
“Your local audience is your global audience. If you win the hearts of
the locals, they can take you to the global.” – Bharat Bala.
“You have to enter the dark cave and come out of it all wounded to
understand why you are writing the screenplay.” – Rakeysh Omprakash
Mehra.
One word that cannot describe this course is: exhausting! Yes, it was
an intensive plethora of hours spent, listening to discourses until
evening, then analysing a movie during the night, and yet I felt more
alive and invigorated, ready and anticipating the next day. Infact,
after the movie, groups of us who were of like minds (and even
staunchly opposing minds), would gather together to debate what we had
learnt during the day – sometimes until 2am – before we decided to
rest. And somehow wake up, ready to absorb all over again.
My deepest gratitude to everyone who contributed to a sure-footed step
into redefining the standards of storytelling. I found Kamal Haasan,
in person, to be wiser than I had realised, and his remark comes to
mind, “when mediocrity is set as the standard, then to be a genius
means very little.” I feel that several great minds felt a calling to
improve things – and feel blessed to have been at the right place at
the right time to take part in it. To bring meaningfulness back to
storytelling has been my dream also, and feel extremely liberated to
be offered the chance to dream it with others.
Thank you.
Vajra Krishna.
If you practice being fictional for a while, you will understand that
fictional characters are sometimes more real than people with bodies
and heartbeats. – Richard Bach.
ordinators, bearing in mind that Anjum and Kamal asked for this
information to help them fine-tune their next course. Thought it may
help others here who wanted to know more about what happened during
the course and what was taught:
It has been just about a month since the International Screenwriting
Workshop concluded, and I have needed this time to let the intensive
course settle and digest – to go from conscious to subconscious before
I could even venture a feedback. I am certain this will be a
continuous process, and with each day will recognise the wisdom
offered by the experienced lecturers in new light. Yet at this point,
I have gathered hold of the reigns enough to be able to voice my
thoughts on what transpired.
I suppose the first step here would be to explain a little on where I
am coming from so that my feedback on the Workshop will have a clearer
perspective for you. The first screenwriting course I did was back in
1998, in Canberra University, Australia. I distinctly remember the
lecturer expounding on the 3 Act Screenplay, but most especially I
recall that being my first introduction to the Hero’s journey. Perhaps
it was a lack of life experience and foresight, or perhaps it was the
nature of the course itself, but I remember the Hero’s journey being a
weak and finicky set of guidelines lacking in any real sense of depth.
I quickly forgot all about it and moved on.
Now it has been 10 years, and I feel I have come full circle – once
again revisiting the Hero’s Journey through Anjum Rajabali’s
crystalline insight; and suddenly it is made clear to me at a point
where I have the capacity to better understand it. You see, 10 years
ago I had an inkling of why I wanted to be a storyteller... I dreamed
about creating paradigm shifts through my stories and films; shifts in
the way people thought and viewed the world. Since I myself had a
small taste of this profound effect that a few films can have, I was
determined that the craft was a worthwhile investment of the soul.
But the idea of investigating life and its meaning through
storytelling was functionally lost on me. It existed only as an
instinctive knowing that yes – this is possible! But on the whole, as
much as I exasperated, I was unable to fuel insight and wisdom into my
stories. For that, I suppose, I needed to live a little. To fall down,
and rise up – and understand the profound miracle of what it means to
rise up. I went in search of experience, and gave everything up –
travelled a lot, lived as a hermit for a few years and threw myself
into strange spiritual paradoxes that ordinarily passes you by. In
effect, I was merely gathering material. Which inevitably comes to a
point where you empty your cup and realise the material was within you
all along. Even for that, you need to come full circle.
Coming full circle, Anjum begins to explain the Hero’s journey like a
flaming arrow going to the crux of storytelling itself: Mythology
helps us understand interiority. I had pondered mythology like a
lifeline, I had written compulsively to externalise internal
thoughts... yet this insight was a vital link that I had hitherto not
anticipated. It validated and made sense of years of rich material
that I was waiting to put to use. Suddenly, under the very construct
of Anjum’s musings on the Hero’s Journey, my mind cleared and
everything seemed to fall into place – options were made available
where none seemed possible. Perhaps it seems I am overstating, yet
believe me, for one who is intensely passionate about going to the
heart of any given thing, this was a revelation. Mythology was not
merely good material for me – it has been the pulse of a mystical
creation symbolically told. The idea that we can fathom our own
existence by our stories was always present, the door was visible and
closed – but I needed the key.
After that moment, the course became transformative. At this point let
me retrack a bit to set the scene... The second course on
screenwriting I did was in 2004 with an Australian writer/filmmaker
named Leslie Oliver. He brought a unique insight to storytelling that
I don’t think I will ever forget – not merely for the fact that it is
so simple but also that it is so revealing. He explained that
“character is story, story is character.” I know we speak often in
screenwriting circles about the importance of character, but few go so
far as to state this inexplicable link. Most of the time, we find a
difference between our stories and our characters, but not with
Leslie. His technique was to observe the obscure moments of life by
which to fathom a character that invokes us to explore him or her, and
in placing that character into a conflicting situation, we see them
develop. He felt that nothing else is really needed except this, in
order to tell a powerful story. He spoke about writing as akin to
sculpting; what you are doing in effect is chipping away on a slab of
stone to uncover the nightingale already waiting within it.
This was so far removed from my first course in Screenwriting, which
was formulaic in comparison, that after the course with Leslie Oliver,
I seemed to find most of the other available courses were expounding
mainly on the dastardly “character arc”, and I lost interest in going
to any more workshops. Of course I was developing stories along the
way, and getting stuck with some. Festering – I should say, living
with my stories for years, developing them slowly. Time passed. Much
happened.
I felt a certain knack for creating a breathtaking symmetry in
skeletal framework for my screenplays, and it wasn’t until recently
that suddenly my entire understanding of storytelling was shattered by
an American playwright/screenwriter named Billy Marshall-Stoneking. At
the culmination of 2008, just as I was arranging to come to India, I
stumbled across Stoneking’s advert for his screenwriting course. He
spoke of mediumistic, tribal storytelling. Mediumistic?! Tribal?!
These words resonated deeply, as quite a part of my life was engaged
in mediumistic spirituality – where ethereal beings were simply
“channelled” into the body (the owner of the body handing control for
a few moments), whilst the visitor inhabited. And it rang true, the
moment I read two otherwise unrelated words grouped side by side.
Mediumistic storytelling. Billy was a man who had spent a large part
of his life living with aboriginal tribes and assimilating a sense of
universal storytelling through a powerfully primal form – from the
very origins of tribal consciousness.
Yes, it made sense. I had passed across several writers who spoke of
living with their characters, of their characters voices in their
heads, of their characters existing in their own right. I had always
found this very intangible, as I only heard one voice in my head.
Mine. No one elses (or so I thought). So, the entire idea of having a
conversation with someone other than myself in my mind was more than a
little unfathomable. Yet I longed for that intimacy I had read authors
speak of in interviews – that profound intimacy with their characters
where they even speak to them. Until then the sort of intimacy I
shared with my characters were more the fodder of potent emotions
begging exploration, rather than voices. Yet that is semantics really.
Where the emotions manifest as thoughts, or vice versa, is almost
seamless.
I decided to be honest and emailed Billy, explaining to him that I’ve
been through a whole load of courses on screenwriting and have hardly
come across anything new these days, so I would very much appreciate
it if he would be forthcoming with me whether he’s got anything new to
say or not. Yes, I was blunt, but respectful. His reply was to
enigmatically encourage me to come along. And, as curiosity always
gets the better of me, I went along to see what he had to say –
without judgement.
What transpired was my mind shut down – not in any negative sense, but
in the profound realisation that every rule I seemed to have set
myself about screenwriting flew out the window. Because Billy was
speaking of “dramatic storytelling” in a freshness that invoked,
provoked the listener to drop their ideology and approach
screenwriting with utter vulnerability. Let me summarise the kind of
thinking he directed at you to confound everything you thought you
knew for a fact:
• The whole thing is about transforming: every scene should hold a
transformation.
• Dramatic intelligence is the art of becoming present.
• The intersection of the origins of the characters with the origins
of the writer is what brings freshness to a story.
• You’re dealing with dead people, and you’re trying to make them
alive. You are also dead. You become alive by writing... They are
dreaming you, and you are dreaming them.
• The fundamental question you must ask yourself: What is your
character fighting for?
• Drama is really an exploration of frustrated desires. Drama is
essentially about anxiety and overcoming anxiety.
• Who is it that you are speaking for? Or more intimately: who is
speaking through you?
• The truth is revealed in the face of opposition.
• We must journey on as if we are blind – if we look down, we will
fall.
• Write the story that terrifies you the most. Go into the mouth of
Kali.
• The screenplay world and your world are inexplicably connected...
And whatever you do in one world will impact the other.
• Art never explains. Every time you explain what you are trying to
do, you are trying to avoid a fear!
• The one thing of no use to a dramatic storyteller is knowledge,
because knowledge gets in the way.
• This is the art of the invisible! In what is not said. In what is
not shown.
• There are characters that want to come out. That are imprisoned by
the writer’s fears. We project our fears and that drops the potential
the characters actually have.
• When we hit the wall, we have to drop our expectations, because the
wall is a manifestation of our expectations.
It is this aspect of hitting the “wall”, that was the crux of his
unique way of seeing this ancient artform. That, inevitably, in every
story, the writer and his characters will reach a point of critical
conflict where he is forced to live it through his characters – and at
this point most writers take the cowards way out. They resort to some
rationality, some formulaic way out of the insurmountable situation.
And if they do, the story will lose all its power and worth. It is at
this point – at this wall, that one must drop everything they think
they know, and step into the unknown. Become intuitive rather than
intellectual. I would say there is rarely a screenwriting course that
approaches storytelling with such bravery. This bravery was deeply
appealing, as I had always considered good writing as that rare gift
of pouring the depths of your soul onto paper. It felt like a code of
honour only wielded by the warrior-poets. For they will not succumb,
even in their words.
So it came to be that when I was at the right place at the right time,
and invited to attend the RKF International Screenwriting Workshop, I
decided to come without any expectations. In several ways Billy had
created more questions than answers, and I was unable to pick up the
pieces myself. I was stuck as to understand how to push my story ideas
forward because his course had demanded of me a complete relinquishing
of myself. It had demanded me to set myself aside and let the
characters write through me.
I succeeded, and through the workshop created stories where I was so
utterly surprised by the outcome, and since my own transformation was
honest, I could see its effect on the audience. But as for applying
this methodology to stories I had already developed upto treatment
stage, I was unable to find the balance. This is not to say that my
previous stories were so manufactured that they needed to be
discarded. Rather, I am an unrelenting perfectionist – and I wished to
imbue my entire body of work with this newfound insight. I realised
that I had been hearing the voices of my characters all along, yet my
fear had been stifling them.
I think you may understand now why I opted to give this explanation of
what brought me to the point of your workshop, as it does set the
scene in revealing what transpired within me throughout the phenomenal
six days.
Firstly, I did not expect for Anjum, Hariharan and the majority of
speakers to extol this very same bravery from us in our writing. That
took me by surprise, and it was then that I realised that I was right
where I was supposed to be. To divulge step by step:
DAY 1: PREMISE/CHARACTERISATION.
I have believed for a long while now that the real meaning of
“literacy” is not the assimilation of information, but rather – to
learn the skill of questioning what is before you – not taking
anything as a given, but discovering for yourself. For that to work,
the uniqueness of the individual is imperative. It is this uniqueness
that produces originality, and I had a deepening sense of relief to
witness that Kamal Haasan and the lecturers were acutely aware of this
and were giving it utmost importance.
For a long time now in screenwriting circles the premise had been
taught to be the fundamental moral of the story – the core “message”
of the film. Yet on day one of the RKFI Course, Anjum explained the
premise to be something else entirely – although he acknowledged that
it is often known to be a moral, he insisted that a premise is better
known as the “lock” of the story. That is, the culminating incident to
which the entire story is built up, and thus resolved.
At first, I didn’t see why this difference in definition was even
necessary, but as I began to ponder the issue, and moreover, apply it
to my own stories, it soon became crystalline that this particular use
of premise is far more useful in the construction of a screenplay.
Because we are then dealing with the crux of the story itself, its
very backbone, and thereby are constantly aware of where we are going
off on tangents, or staying true to the heart of the story. As opposed
to a moral or theme, which may speak for subtext, but on the whole
does not define the constructs and motivations of the characters.
It became apparent that this particular definition of premise is most
elevating for a writer on his/her journey of discovering characters
and the situation of conflict they find themselves in. It brings focus
on the conflict in very specific terms – relatable only to the story
being told – it enables the writer to be unique and fresh in the
telling. Suddenly, the “premise” had a use in the process of writing,
and was no longer a musing on the tale.
Hariharan then presented, in his analysis of characterisation, what
appeared at first notice to be an opposing approach. Whilst Anjum was
fused with conviction in the intuitive magic that exists within
writing, and was presenting ways in which to allow such intuition to
“reveal” itself to the writer, Hariharan seemed passionate about the
mechanics – about construction in a surprisingly mathematical
precision. I would guess that for most delegates at the course, this
would have posed an element of choice – of deciding one way or
another. It certainly did for me, as I felt at home with the fire of
intuition that Anjum had spoken of, and had often dismissed the need
to totally intellectualise or feign the mechanics of the writing
process. I am certain others would have felt more at home with the
mechanics, and perhaps even puzzled at the notion of giving so much
importance to intuition.
Yet, I was sitting in the course with already a dilemma at the back of
my mind. The one that Billy had created, by persuading me with fine
fuzzy zen-like logic to do away with any sort of mechanical approach –
which I had on the whole found next to impossible. No matter how
intuitively culminated, there would always be a strong mechanics in
the structure of my stories that I was unable to do away with.
Pondering the contradicting approaches of both Hariharan and Anjum, it
eventually dawned on me that this is indeed a right brain/left brain
issue. That is, the optimum function of an individual is when both are
in balance, when creativity and logic are simultaneously active and
complimentary to the other. Suddenly, Hariharan and Anjum did not seem
so far apart, and in imagining how both can be applied to the process
of writing, slowly a clarity began to settle upon me.
For this reason, I felt it remarkable that the course syllabus was
formed to represent two (or more) seemingly opposing ideas as a
tangible whole. This aspect of opposing ideas co-existing was a
recurring theme throughout the course, and one of its crowning virtues
– it oft reminded me of the tantric saying: “The truth can only ever
be told in the contradictions. Or... in silence.”
If anything, it would have placed the attentive listener in the
predicament of not walking away with set rules and constructs – but
rather inspired an openness to the writing process itself. In a
worldwide education system that is surely failing because of its
spotlight upon memorising a panorama of rules (and soon forgetting
them), I was kindled with a vigour to witness a better method of
teaching.
DAY2: STRUCTURE.
The finely tuned exploration of how a dilemma is built to a critical
mass – being the engrossing topic of the second day. A few of the
things that really stood out for me and have instilled themselves
implicitly are:
• Change can only happen in a person capable of change.
• The nature of heroism is unintentional – a man is provoked into
heroic acts – and heroism is not in and of itself a grounding motive.
• Tragedies are where characters are unable to resolve their dilemma.
• Subplots throw light on hidden dimensions of the main plot.
• Theory of dialectics: The opposite of something exists within
itself.
In essence, the fundamental lesson here was that there must be an
internal conflict within every powerful scene or sequence, a conflict
that reveals itself through subtext or subplots, all intimately
linking back to the premise. At this point, the premise becomes
infinitely pivotal – every moment of the film holds a premise,
contributing to an underlying premise that drives energy to the entire
story.
Ultimately bringing home the essential masterstroke of every piece of
art – show, don’t tell.
Of course, this point is made almost always in writing courses, yet to
demonstrate the point also requires a lucidity that gives the student
enough breath to recompose and integrate it into himself. For this
reason, I valued Anjum’s approach – he had carefully highlighted the
underlying facet of conflict as in itself revealing the subtext. This
essentially enables the aspiring writer to not find subtexts so
mysterious. Which meant only intuition would decide the immaculate and
fresh circumstances in which the characters find themselves.
Yet even this intuition is more guided by observing life, rather than
observing film – it is a dance between the two – of translating those
obscure moments that are so definitive of life into the language of
film. So, the premise is more about deriving meaning out of existence,
meaning on existence itself – that is the invariable link between life
and film – every moment of every situation becomes meaningful in
stories, and thereby gives meaning to life. Stories become sacred
because they eradicate the pointlessness of existence. They become
mythic because they remind the lost about the forgotten.
Everything became tangible here for me – it is essentially about
dilemma, and surprisingly, a dilemma of the soul, making it an
exploration of spirit – even if, in film, it seems simply like a
character exploration. For why else is a character invoked into
heroism, and into changing, if not to better himself into something
intuitive. Why else is a writer invoked to forsake all knowledge and
write with a divining sense of intuition, had it not been proved
through the ages that only this kind of writing creates timeless art.
More than about character, it was about the spirit within the
character. For otherwise, intuition (and instinct) would not be so
crucial. It would simply be another word receiving lip-service.
DAY 3: DIALOGUE & DECONSTRUCTION
This was the central letdown in the course. Through all that Atul
Tiwari was expounding, be it the history of dialogue writing, and
especially examples of the best forms of dialogue – the one thing, the
primary thing – that he neglected to divulge was the PROCESS of
dialogue writing itself. I did ask a few questions pertaining to his
writing process, but did not get an insightful response.
The main aspect of dialogue writing (especially in Indian films) is
that quite often screenplay and dialogue are not written by the same
people. Yet Anjum had spoken at length about the necessity to spend an
intimate amount of time living and breathing your characters,
imagining them living alongside you and better understanding their
motivations and characteristics. So much investment is made upon the
characters to understand the emotions that rule them.
Having bled with your characters, finally you emerge out of the dark
night with a reckoning screenplay, and are about to collaborate with a
dialogue writer. I have full faith in the specific mastery of dialogue
writing – I understand that it is entirely a different skill to
writing screenplay or understanding time and space pertaining to plot.
It is for this very reason that I wanted to delve deeper into this
skill of the dialogue writer, to see how he is so quickly able to
assimilate the characters that the screenwriter has been developing
for months, and furthermore to understand their vocabulary and style
and manner of speech. Hopefully in future courses this aspect of
dialogue writing would be explored for the students. A greater focus
on process would be far more helpful, I feel, rather than a
demonstration of the history and evolution of dialogue writing (unless
this evolution also is made to tie in to the “process”).
I am glad however, that the lecturers chose to emphasise that one must
think of the characters as having an “independent” personality – that
you, in effect, are not creating these characters, but pushing them,
reacting to them, and evolving and transforming with them. You are
walking beside them, not manufacturing them out of lego pieces.
The revealing of how subtext is used in films was quite instructive.
It was a divulging into the “non-active” power that exists in films.
The power of the silence, the power of what is not said. Nothing
offers as much window into reality and the exploration of real
dilemmas as the use of “what is not shown.” As Eisenstein would put
it; “the art of the invisible.”
Which inevitably lead to the deconstruction of the screenplay,
lectured by Hariharan. Immediately beginning with the proposition:
Consider time also as a character. I was astonished to witness the
detail to which the 7 minute intro sequence of Satyajit Ray’s film was
broken apart and analysed with piercing and remarkable judgement.
Without exaggeration, I sat mesmerised, and secretly hoped that
Hariharan would continue to analyse the entire film with this prowess
of film language.
With illuminating precision, the nature of the objective/subjective
link in film was explored, coaxing the eager student to grasp the
rudiments of great storytelling.
DAY 4: HERO’S JOURNEY, PROCESS & INDUSTRIAL ASPECTS.
“A writer’s inspiration enters you through your fingertips.” – Anjum
Rajabali.
There are things we instinctively know – things like the virtues: no
one ever disagrees that to be a hypocrite is a vice, not a virtue. And
that to be honourable is a virtue. These aren’t social rules, or
political ones. It is intrinsic to our very being. That is the essence
of instinctive knowing – where suddenly your tribal or cultural
affiliations, or where you come from doesn’t make you so different to
the rest of us, because there is an underlying unification in our
consciousness.
However, as much as we have this knowing, we are for the most part
unable to see the heart of it, see the fodder from which it comes, and
how it manifests. For this very reason, for a long time I believed in
the power of storytelling, yet was unable to find the words to express
its imminent role in one’s identity. Because for the most part, people
would rather convince themselves that stories are merely a squandering
type of entertainment to escape boredom. This superficial idea is
often so powerful a paradigm, that entertainment itself seems to have
succumbed to this very definition, and attempted to do just that –
quell boredom.
The thunderous roar of the warrior-poets, who would weave stories in
the hearts of their countrymen to inspire courage, to dispel fear, and
to mostly, urge them to discover themselves – all of this innate power
of storytelling is often forgotten. So it was, that when Anjum
divulged the apex of the hero’s journey as essentially the facing of
oneself (as proposed by Joseph Campbell), everything fell into place
like the difficulty of a jigsaw puzzle being finally resolved.
Suddenly I had means in which to speak of that which I have devoted my
life to – storytelling itself – I had means in which to speak of its
dominating influence within society without being vague, or sceptical.
Since that day, I had shared the very same insight I had learnt to
several acquaintances during dinner gatherings, and have witnessed the
clarity and power that settled over them to understand the real nature
of stories.
Mythology in itself is a misunderstood word. I remember a few years
back deciding to read about Jesus not as a historical figure, but as a
fictional character – and was surprised to find how much more power he
had over me, how much more influence. I then tried the same with the
ancient Puranas, and to date have rarely come across stories so rich.
Does it matter if it is fact, or fiction? More to the point, is
fiction, by definition, a mark of what is not real... or is it that
which signifies everything we value to be real! Therein lies its
power.
Isn’t it so that the wisdom within the myths are more valuable than
the question of whether it really happened? As Campbell repeats again
and again, myths exists to show us solutions to our own dilemmas.
Science itself is more an assertion of what has not been “proved”
wrong, rather than what has been proved right. To the discriminating
eye, there are no facts, and fictions become far more magical – magic
itself becomes the reality. This is why writers give up the world,
this is why they bleed, why they want to relinquish their own souls in
order to discover themselves through their stories.
Just as the character discovers himself at the culmination of the
hero’s journey, the writer is being transformed alongside him. But
only if he is approaching it in an intuitive process! Which is why
Anjum was insistent on this specific kind of writing, as was Billy.
The hero’s journey, ultimately, is the visual representation of an
otherwise invisible struggle of self discovery. Of facing your own
fears. These things, quite often, happen in darkness, it happens often
without anyone close to you ever discovering what you are going
through. Yet with these stories, the world can intimately relate to
you, because it is what they themselves are experiencing. This is why
they revisit the majestic cinema!
Coming full circle – on this day, the pieces fell into place, and all
the contradictions of storytelling that I had learnt became a potent
oneness of expression.
The afternoon of the fourth day amassed a step-by-step analysis of how
to create stories for the film industry. A tasteful and grounded
counterpart to the deeply invigorating morning.
DAY 5 – DAY 6 – GUEST SPEAKERS.
I think what was very validating for the students was watching the
guest lecturers speak about screenwriting within the same constructs
and with the same approach as what was impressed upon us within the
first four days. Especially since the guest lecturers/filmmakers were
totally unaware of what transpired in the last four days in the
course, the very fact that their own sharing and experiences
corroborated with what was taught affirmed that we were not dealing
with theories here, but applications.
Although the fifth and sixth day was an amalgamation of some brilliant
minds within the international film fraternity, there is one issue
that I wish you to consider: The writers/filmmakers who spoke to us
did not seem so tuned-in to the kind of information we really wanted
from them. It was not loaded with the essential wisdom a budding
screenwriter desperately needs. It lacked the tightness of the first
four days. Every now and then the celebrities would make a statement
that was amazingly illuminating, but for the most part they seemed to
talk in tangents. I think the purpose of having seminars in the last
two days was to very specifically study the guest speakers’ process
and development with screenwriting. Sometimes though I got the feeling
the guest lecturers forgot this.
Perhaps if the prominent writers had it in their mind to speak to
“themselves as beginners”, and to tell themselves the kind of things
they would have wanted to know, it could improve the course immensely.
Instead, for quite a substantial amount of the two days, what we
received was a history of what these writers/filmmakers have been
through... or worse, some industrial trivia that was no help
whatsoever. Reflecting back on the mistake by Atul Tiwari in
describing the history of dialogue writing, perhaps it is easier for a
person who is unprepared to describe the history of things without
ever going to the heart of it. I do request that you find some
solutions to avoid this in future.
I must add here that this does not apply to the entirety of the last
two days. Jean Claude Carriere, for example, seemed enamoured with
naught else but the intricate process of screenwriting, and spoke
lucidly about the mechanisms in which to understand it. Aside from
that, each of the speakers every now and then delivered some striking
wisdom that either affirmed or violently contradicted what was taught
to us in the first four days. Either way, I took them both to be
valid, because by then I had understood that the confusion that comes
from contradictions is more helpful than harmful.
By the end of it all, I remember still being a little puzzled about
what was said about dialogue writing, so I approached Rituparno Ghosh
(his film from the night before, Dosar, still fresh on my mind), and
questioned him about his prowess in writing such fresh dialogue.
I said, “How do you write your dialogues?”
He replied, “After a point, my characters write the dialogues.”
That seemed to summarise it all, and I have meditate upon that insight
ever since.
Some unforgettable statements:
“Mythology is the need to contextualise oneself. Mythology deals with
denials and the understanding of denials.” – Shekhar Kapur.
“Scriptwriting is about how to catch the desire of the audience and
how to hold that desire. What is credible is whatever the spectator
desires.” – Olivier Lorelle.
“The rules of scriptwriting is nothing but a shortcut to a point of
choicelessness.” – Shekhar Kapur.
“Language is a miserably inadequate medium to express the richness of
emotions, and that is what makes its inadequacy a fantastic subtext.”
– Balu Mahendra.
“Your local audience is your global audience. If you win the hearts of
the locals, they can take you to the global.” – Bharat Bala.
“You have to enter the dark cave and come out of it all wounded to
understand why you are writing the screenplay.” – Rakeysh Omprakash
Mehra.
One word that cannot describe this course is: exhausting! Yes, it was
an intensive plethora of hours spent, listening to discourses until
evening, then analysing a movie during the night, and yet I felt more
alive and invigorated, ready and anticipating the next day. Infact,
after the movie, groups of us who were of like minds (and even
staunchly opposing minds), would gather together to debate what we had
learnt during the day – sometimes until 2am – before we decided to
rest. And somehow wake up, ready to absorb all over again.
My deepest gratitude to everyone who contributed to a sure-footed step
into redefining the standards of storytelling. I found Kamal Haasan,
in person, to be wiser than I had realised, and his remark comes to
mind, “when mediocrity is set as the standard, then to be a genius
means very little.” I feel that several great minds felt a calling to
improve things – and feel blessed to have been at the right place at
the right time to take part in it. To bring meaningfulness back to
storytelling has been my dream also, and feel extremely liberated to
be offered the chance to dream it with others.
Thank you.
Vajra Krishna.
If you practice being fictional for a while, you will understand that
fictional characters are sometimes more real than people with bodies
and heartbeats. – Richard Bach.
gokulnath pethambaram
Jul 8, 2009, 5:09:49 AM7/8/09
to screenwri...@googlegroups.com
.......Simply,Superb, Nice square drive by Vajra Krishna--
regards
Gokulnath pethambaram
"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."
regards
Gokulnath pethambaram
"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."
Harsha, Great Careers
Jul 8, 2009, 1:32:37 AM7/8/09
to screenwri...@googlegroups.com
My goodness! What a feedback.. I had to drink a couple of glasses of water during the process of reading it. Great effort.
But my humble opinion is this : Do we have to analyse so much on screenplay writing? Do we have to know so much before starting? I have a feeling that 'too much knowledge AT THIS STAGE would only complicate things in screen writing '.
Develop a spark. Follow your instincts. Use a lot of common sense. Use a lot of reference materials like books / films etc. Think a lot from different perspectives. Think from every character's angle. Keep the flow linear without any unwanted diversions. Forget all the filmy twists & turns (if you are thinking abt a good film). Make a clear decision abt the ending & dont leave any loose ends. Forget all the grammars of script writing & just go with the flow. Once the script is completed, toss it aside & do not think abt it for a week or two. Then review it again & you will be able to make a lot of corrections. Do the process again. After 3-4 drafts (sometimes more) stop the process as you may overkill it & take away some innocent sheen off it.
Write 4 or 5 scripts this way & u might have learnt a lot of things by then.
All these books like 'Heroes journey' & 'Art of screenwriting' should be strictly reference materials only (skipping them altogether is an even better idea). Do not confuse yourself or complicate things by reading or analysing too much AT THIS STAGE. Pls understand that Iam not against all these books, but I would not recommend them during this stage.
So, GO ON. Start writing to learn more. You cannot read 500 pages abt "art of swimming" before you start the swimming training. Know the basics & take the plunge at the safe zone. You will learn more during 1 hour of swimming class (the real act) than what you learnt from studying & analysing 500 pages abt it.
Sorry if I have ruffled a few feathers here. Its just my opinion & BTW, I have no credentials in script writing except that I have written 3-4 rough drafts in the last 2 yrs. (I had given a script for a short film to Anjum during the workshop & he had appreciated it whole-heartedly).
Rgds,
Harsha
On Mon, Jul 6, 2009 at 3:19 AM, Vajra Krishna <thila...@gmail.com> wrote:
janawriter
Jul 9, 2009, 1:19:52 PM7/9/09
to Screenwriting India
Wow.... that was an incredible dissertation, Varja. Thank you for
taking the time to put it all down for us.
The amazing thing is that passionate storytellers (whether
screenwriters, playwrights or novelists) all discover the same fact
that I teach in all my Wordsmythe.ca workshops. GOOD STORYTELLING is
a balancing act between right brain/ and left brain activity. If the
balance is askew... the story either doesn't resonate emotionally OR
the feelings are there - but it seems to have no direction.
Always, I urge my students to find that blend. To understand their own
need for right brain/left brain balance in storytelling so that they
can WRITE it into their screenplays.
It's a very cool thing when it works - your characters come alive for
you (and so for your audience) and the 'journey' becomes a memorable
event too.
But like all skills sets it TAKES PRACTICE to perfect that balancing
act in creating story for the screen.
Best wishes in your writing Varja.... and all of you!
Jana at wordsmythe.ca
As both audience and creator (we're always on one or the other side of
that coin) WE NEED left brain satisfied by structure (3 act, chapters,
opening closings, etc) to ALLOW our right brain to ENTER or CREATE the
story.
taking the time to put it all down for us.
The amazing thing is that passionate storytellers (whether
screenwriters, playwrights or novelists) all discover the same fact
that I teach in all my Wordsmythe.ca workshops. GOOD STORYTELLING is
a balancing act between right brain/ and left brain activity. If the
balance is askew... the story either doesn't resonate emotionally OR
the feelings are there - but it seems to have no direction.
Always, I urge my students to find that blend. To understand their own
need for right brain/left brain balance in storytelling so that they
can WRITE it into their screenplays.
It's a very cool thing when it works - your characters come alive for
you (and so for your audience) and the 'journey' becomes a memorable
event too.
But like all skills sets it TAKES PRACTICE to perfect that balancing
act in creating story for the screen.
Best wishes in your writing Varja.... and all of you!
Jana at wordsmythe.ca
As both audience and creator (we're always on one or the other side of
that coin) WE NEED left brain satisfied by structure (3 act, chapters,
opening closings, etc) to ALLOW our right brain to ENTER or CREATE the
story.
suveki (venkatakrishnan)
Jul 9, 2009, 5:46:06 AM7/9/09
to screenwri...@googlegroups.com
nice efforts harsha..
hats off
suveki
hats off
suveki
Shubashree Desikan
Jul 10, 2009, 6:14:46 AM7/10/09
to Screenwriting India
I agree with harsha. After all even the lecturers said that the rules
they teach are meant more as a guideline to fall back on when one is
confused.
Has anyone the problem of having mroe than one good (in our own
opinion of course) story to tell?
Shubashree
On 9 July, 14:46, "suveki (venkatakrishnan)"
> ...
>
> read more »- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -
they teach are meant more as a guideline to fall back on when one is
confused.
Has anyone the problem of having mroe than one good (in our own
opinion of course) story to tell?
Shubashree
On 9 July, 14:46, "suveki (venkatakrishnan)"
>
> read more »- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -
Kathiravan m
Jul 10, 2009, 4:51:00 AM7/10/09
to screenwri...@googlegroups.com
Good work Vajra Krishnan! It certainly opens a new window with a different perspective!
Great!,
Kathir
Vajra Krishna
Jul 12, 2009, 3:36:19 AM7/12/09
to Screenwriting India
This is a simple dilemma that shouldn't be confused for a theory vs
practical debate.
No 1 Rule: WRITE! It is imperative that you write. You learn to
improve yourself by writing. This was stressed intensely in the
course.
Yet that is only one side of the story. The other is the refinement of
such writing, and the processes involved in it.
The first scripts I wrote were done before having read any books at
all on how to go about writing a script, or even before attending
screenwriting course. And what did I learn by the end? There was a
real instinct for storytelling there. But this is very much like a guy
practicing his vocal chords and learning to sing, getting quite good
at it, and then one day going to a music teacher to learn an ANCIENT
TRADITION of Ragas that have been carefully preserved.
It is a desire to learn - that is truly humble, because you accept how
many great minds and great writers have existed before you, and you
accept they would have seen the world in ways and perspective that you
would never think of (because you are an individual and have your own
ways). Yet, will understanding their thinking help you, deepen you,
and make you a better storyteller? WITHOUT A DOUBT!
So don't be silly and think this is a choice between reading books and
writing stories. That is a fallacy.
You must WRITE LUCIDLY! And you must READ AVIDLY! Both are essential
for a great storyteller. That's my view on things, so I have been
approaching screenwriting in this way. I think about the ancient forms
of storytelling - that teaches me stuff that are immesurably
beautiful! My stories have more substance, and a refined sense of
clarity because of it. This was something the lecturers at the course
expressed as something they themselves have gone to. They have been
EMPOWERED by myths!
Vajra.
On Jul 8, 10:32 am, "Harsha, Great Careers" <kinghars...@gmail.com>
wrote:
> ...
>
> read more »
practical debate.
No 1 Rule: WRITE! It is imperative that you write. You learn to
improve yourself by writing. This was stressed intensely in the
course.
Yet that is only one side of the story. The other is the refinement of
such writing, and the processes involved in it.
The first scripts I wrote were done before having read any books at
all on how to go about writing a script, or even before attending
screenwriting course. And what did I learn by the end? There was a
real instinct for storytelling there. But this is very much like a guy
practicing his vocal chords and learning to sing, getting quite good
at it, and then one day going to a music teacher to learn an ANCIENT
TRADITION of Ragas that have been carefully preserved.
It is a desire to learn - that is truly humble, because you accept how
many great minds and great writers have existed before you, and you
accept they would have seen the world in ways and perspective that you
would never think of (because you are an individual and have your own
ways). Yet, will understanding their thinking help you, deepen you,
and make you a better storyteller? WITHOUT A DOUBT!
So don't be silly and think this is a choice between reading books and
writing stories. That is a fallacy.
You must WRITE LUCIDLY! And you must READ AVIDLY! Both are essential
for a great storyteller. That's my view on things, so I have been
approaching screenwriting in this way. I think about the ancient forms
of storytelling - that teaches me stuff that are immesurably
beautiful! My stories have more substance, and a refined sense of
clarity because of it. This was something the lecturers at the course
expressed as something they themselves have gone to. They have been
EMPOWERED by myths!
Vajra.
On Jul 8, 10:32 am, "Harsha, Great Careers" <kinghars...@gmail.com>
wrote:
>
> read more »
janawriter
Jul 11, 2009, 10:24:49 AM7/11/09
to Screenwriting India
Hey Shuba
It doesn't surprise me that you might have more than one story!! I
was like that too when I started out - I suppose most writers are when
they finally figure out into which format (novel, screenplay, theatre
play) they want to 'pour' their story.
In some ways the first screenplay is the most joyous - you discover
soooo much about how it all fits together. Sadly, it is most often
the one that gets left on the shelf. Often, in the process of
learning how to create the 'jug' of the screenplay format you make
mistakes. Really, we should all know that going in. It's like the
first pie you ever bake or the first table a beginning wood worker
decides to build! It may always have a shakey leg that you just can't
fix! But the fact that you start is fantastic....
So my advice, I guess, is start with something that you love.... no
point in writing anything else. Figure out as much as you can story-
wise in advance. And then go for it!! And of course knowing that the
first completed draft is only the beginning of the rewrites; but also
of a whole new adventure for you!
Plus, you know I WILL LOVE TO READ IT when you've completed the first
draft !
your friend Jana
On Jul 10, 3:14 am, Shubashree Desikan <shuba.desi...@gmail.com>
wrote:
> ...
>
> read more »
It doesn't surprise me that you might have more than one story!! I
was like that too when I started out - I suppose most writers are when
they finally figure out into which format (novel, screenplay, theatre
play) they want to 'pour' their story.
In some ways the first screenplay is the most joyous - you discover
soooo much about how it all fits together. Sadly, it is most often
the one that gets left on the shelf. Often, in the process of
learning how to create the 'jug' of the screenplay format you make
mistakes. Really, we should all know that going in. It's like the
first pie you ever bake or the first table a beginning wood worker
decides to build! It may always have a shakey leg that you just can't
fix! But the fact that you start is fantastic....
So my advice, I guess, is start with something that you love.... no
point in writing anything else. Figure out as much as you can story-
wise in advance. And then go for it!! And of course knowing that the
first completed draft is only the beginning of the rewrites; but also
of a whole new adventure for you!
Plus, you know I WILL LOVE TO READ IT when you've completed the first
draft !
your friend Jana
On Jul 10, 3:14 am, Shubashree Desikan <shuba.desi...@gmail.com>
wrote:
>
> read more »
Prashant
Jul 13, 2009, 9:47:04 AM7/13/09
to Screenwriting India
Hi Jana,
That's an excellent take on Shuba's query! I too was suffering from
the same dilemna until a few days ago.
I had 3 story ideas which I thought were pretty strong, and I had even
developed one of them into a nice narrative over the past few weeks.
Then there was the whole discussion of taking Chennai out of the story
and it still holding true - unfortunately, my story did! So, it was
back to the drawing board for me.
But you are so right in saying that "the first screenplay is the most
joyous" - I have saved the story safely, and hope to make something
out of it some day.
To start with this new story, I followed Sudhish's suggestion: "Just
enjoy what you do so that even if your story isn't chosen, at least
you had fun writing it and if you truly believe in it, you wouldn't
need Raajkamal to back you, you can do it yourself.", and the right
idea just came to me instantly! Let's see if the judges like the idea
as much as I am liking it these days!
Cheers - Prashant.
That's an excellent take on Shuba's query! I too was suffering from
the same dilemna until a few days ago.
I had 3 story ideas which I thought were pretty strong, and I had even
developed one of them into a nice narrative over the past few weeks.
Then there was the whole discussion of taking Chennai out of the story
and it still holding true - unfortunately, my story did! So, it was
back to the drawing board for me.
But you are so right in saying that "the first screenplay is the most
joyous" - I have saved the story safely, and hope to make something
out of it some day.
To start with this new story, I followed Sudhish's suggestion: "Just
enjoy what you do so that even if your story isn't chosen, at least
you had fun writing it and if you truly believe in it, you wouldn't
need Raajkamal to back you, you can do it yourself.", and the right
idea just came to me instantly! Let's see if the judges like the idea
as much as I am liking it these days!
Cheers - Prashant.
Shubashree Desikan
Jul 14, 2009, 12:47:42 AM7/14/09
to Screenwriting India
Hi Prashant, Jana, Harsha and Thilakshan,
First, thanks for posting on this forum - it's good to sound your
fears and beliefs and get a multi-faceted view of problems that
writers face.
Of course no one is disputing that reading is important for writers,
as also is seeing hearing, listening and observing... to thepoint of
seeming voyeuristic...
Many of us are working on film-story for the first time (i guess) so
we need to bring out the stuff first and trying to fine-tune this one,
I believe, may be counter-productive...
The only thing I am saying is that reading books and learning is a
never - ending process... but writing is for the moment. Every moment
is new and a critical point, for me. Today's story will/may have it's
technical flaws, but as a story it's perfect for today... If I re-tell
it after a few years of meditation it may change, but that's not to
say that it improves on today's one - that has already had it's
birthing.
In a way u can see Cyrano, Duet and other films as re-birthing of the
same story - but each time, it's new... As u can say of the sequence
of stories - Cinema Paradiso, Mohamull, and Veyil... or Meghe Daake
Taara, Aval Oru Thodarkathai, Aval Appadithan etc...
Thanks Jana and Prashant for the vote of confidence... here's to all
writers and dreamers!
Warm regards,
Shuba
Vajra Krishna
Jul 20, 2009, 1:10:59 AM7/20/09
to Screenwriting India
I would say writing is a never ending process that happens in the HERE
and NOW, and reading and learning is also a never ending process. The
best is when we learn as we write (which is essentially what I've been
saying from the beginning). Quite a few storytellers of the past have
been known to mention that there is never a "finished" screenplay or
novel. There is only the "final" screenplay/novel. That is, at some
point the writer decides that they have gone far enough with it and
stop. But a screenplay always has room for improvement, and this is
the kind of improvement that comes with learning and experience. If
you didn't learn in order to become a better writer you cannot improve
your own writing. It's simple logic.
On Jul 14, 2:47 pm, Shubashree Desikan <shuba.desi...@gmail.com>
wrote:
and NOW, and reading and learning is also a never ending process. The
best is when we learn as we write (which is essentially what I've been
saying from the beginning). Quite a few storytellers of the past have
been known to mention that there is never a "finished" screenplay or
novel. There is only the "final" screenplay/novel. That is, at some
point the writer decides that they have gone far enough with it and
stop. But a screenplay always has room for improvement, and this is
the kind of improvement that comes with learning and experience. If
you didn't learn in order to become a better writer you cannot improve
your own writing. It's simple logic.
On Jul 14, 2:47 pm, Shubashree Desikan <shuba.desi...@gmail.com>
wrote:
Prashant
Jul 21, 2009, 9:45:30 AM7/21/09
to Screenwriting India
Nice Insight. I had heard a similar quote from someone a while back
(although this one is a little harsh) - "A Script is never completed,
it is simply abandoned!"
(although this one is a little harsh) - "A Script is never completed,
it is simply abandoned!"
syed siraj
Jul 20, 2009, 8:12:15 PM7/20/09
to screenwri...@googlegroups.com
Hi Friends,
Please share your exp or ideas on the following
Story Registration.
How to proceed:
Do we have to write the story and then tell the story.
Tell the story to approx 5 to 10 people, if they feel it is good, write it down.
Which is the safe method, to avoid the stories/ideas being stolen
Thanks
Siraj
Share your memories online with anyone you want anyone you want.
Please share your exp or ideas on the following
Story Registration.
How to proceed:
Do we have to write the story and then tell the story.
Tell the story to approx 5 to 10 people, if they feel it is good, write it down.
Which is the safe method, to avoid the stories/ideas being stolen
Thanks
Siraj
Share your memories online with anyone you want anyone you want.
Shubashree Desikan
Jul 22, 2009, 5:21:58 AM7/22/09
to Screenwriting India
ya, I want to know abt registration too...
s
On 21 July, 05:12, syed siraj <siraj_s...@hotmail.com> wrote:
> Hi Friends,
> Please share your exp or ideas on the following
>
> Story Registration.
>
> How to proceed:
> Do we have to write the story and then tell the story.
>
> Tell the story to approx 5 to 10 people, if they feel it is good, write it down.
>
> Which is the safe method, to avoid the stories/ideas being stolen
>
> Thanks
> Siraj
>
> _________________________________________________________________
> Hi Friends,
> Please share your exp or ideas on the following
>
> Story Registration.
>
> How to proceed:
> Do we have to write the story and then tell the story.
>
> Tell the story to approx 5 to 10 people, if they feel it is good, write it down.
>
> Which is the safe method, to avoid the stories/ideas being stolen
>
> Thanks
> Siraj
>
> Share your memories online with anyone you want.http://www.microsoft.com/india/windows/windowslive/products/photos-sh...
tilak saravanan
Jul 22, 2009, 12:20:01 AM7/22/09
to screenwri...@googlegroups.com
Hey siraj,
I would suggest you to write it first. then read t after a week so u will find the loopholes in the story. Rewrite it again. Try this for 3 times so u will clearly find ur story taking a very good shape. Then rip off the logical mistakes from the story if u find any. Once u r very clear with ur story u can tell the story to ur friends r relatives whom u trust and get their feedback and how they feel abt it. i'm sure ur first draft and the last will have huge difference. Take ur time to write & don't hurry to finish it.
--
Regards
Tilak Saravanan TR
I would suggest you to write it first. then read t after a week so u will find the loopholes in the story. Rewrite it again. Try this for 3 times so u will clearly find ur story taking a very good shape. Then rip off the logical mistakes from the story if u find any. Once u r very clear with ur story u can tell the story to ur friends r relatives whom u trust and get their feedback and how they feel abt it. i'm sure ur first draft and the last will have huge difference. Take ur time to write & don't hurry to finish it.
--
Regards
Tilak Saravanan TR
Ravi Varadarajan
Jul 21, 2009, 1:13:23 PM7/21/09
to screenwri...@googlegroups.com
Vajra Krishna
Jul 23, 2009, 3:00:09 AM7/23/09
to Screenwriting India
Hi Siraj
The best answer I ever recieved for this question is: "What does your
intuition tell you?"
Why is it that your instinct is so specific and its instructions to
you so unique, as opposed to what their intuition tells them (even
though we all connect, essentially).
The two major approaches:
One: INTROVERTED. Some people come up with a story, and write it
without telling a soul.... and only after having written it, they pass
it across to someone who's opinion they trust. OR they pass it to who
they think is the "right audience" for their story.
This sense of knowing your audience is always important... infact,
even while you're writing your story, your audience is in the back of
your mind. In a sense, you yourself are watching yourself write your
story, and observing it as an "audience", judging it... and it is that
way that you do your improving and correcting until you feel it
touches the pulse of the audience. This entire process is very
personal and often secluded.
It is a process where the writer has come upon an idea, and wants live
with it, give some of his life to it, until it also begins to
breathe... and for that he observes the world... he takes part in
daily life, but the entire time he is watching... and rarely does he
discuss the project until it is near a point of completion. Some
writers call this the "long dark night of the soul" kind of writing.
Two: EXTROVERTED. Others, they throw ideas at their friends and people
they think could give valuable input... and in that way the entire
process of writing for them is a collaboration of ideas. A back-and-
forth of dialogue to get an opinion on what's working, what direction
to take... even during the very early stages of writing, sometimes,
all the way through.
Perhaps they are great talkers, and in constantly narrating their
story to others, they begin to get a stunningly accurate feel for
which part the audience is reacting to, and which parts to drop. It
works for them. Of course, in this method, you have to make sure you
trust the people you are talking to.
Good thing is, be clear on the audience. If your story is a universal
one, then the shop keeper that you know so well might be a good person
to test it on.
Friends are a good test for your story, but I most often make it a
point to NOT tell them it is my story - this avoids any bias. Friends,
being friends, who know you so well, both stregnths and your
weaknesses, are too quick at times to insult, or to commend you. But
tell them you read a fantastic story, or that you saw a rare film,
make up a title, and tell them the story. Then you know what they
really think about the story itself!
Now, the introvert is watching, observing, and catching what he needs
through a deeply internal process - but the extrovert is also doing
pretty much the same in a different way... he is putting out a lot of
energy, and working from what he gets as a reaction. I feel both ways
lead to very different kinds of writing, all of it can be glorious,
depending on the COURAGE of the writer.
My firm belief has always been that a writer needs nothing else but
courage.
The courage to improve himself, the courage to cut out entire passages
he has written if suddenly he realises it doesn't work (that can be
quite painful for most people, and they quite often chicken out from
doing it - and in the process don't improve). And mostly, the courage
to SPEAK THE TRUTH.
So, what comes first - write it, or tell it? Well... what feels right?
On Jul 21, 10:12 am, syed siraj <siraj_s...@hotmail.com> wrote:
> Hi Friends,
> Please share your exp or ideas on the following
>
> Story Registration.
>
> How to proceed:
> Do we have to write the story and then tell the story.
>
> Tell the story to approx 5 to 10 people, if they feel it is good, write it down.
>
> Which is the safe method, to avoid the stories/ideas being stolen
>
> Thanks
> Siraj
>
> _________________________________________________________________
> Share your memories online with anyone you want.http://www.microsoft.com/india/windows/windowslive/products/photos-sh...
The best answer I ever recieved for this question is: "What does your
intuition tell you?"
Why is it that your instinct is so specific and its instructions to
you so unique, as opposed to what their intuition tells them (even
though we all connect, essentially).
The two major approaches:
One: INTROVERTED. Some people come up with a story, and write it
without telling a soul.... and only after having written it, they pass
it across to someone who's opinion they trust. OR they pass it to who
they think is the "right audience" for their story.
This sense of knowing your audience is always important... infact,
even while you're writing your story, your audience is in the back of
your mind. In a sense, you yourself are watching yourself write your
story, and observing it as an "audience", judging it... and it is that
way that you do your improving and correcting until you feel it
touches the pulse of the audience. This entire process is very
personal and often secluded.
It is a process where the writer has come upon an idea, and wants live
with it, give some of his life to it, until it also begins to
breathe... and for that he observes the world... he takes part in
daily life, but the entire time he is watching... and rarely does he
discuss the project until it is near a point of completion. Some
writers call this the "long dark night of the soul" kind of writing.
Two: EXTROVERTED. Others, they throw ideas at their friends and people
they think could give valuable input... and in that way the entire
process of writing for them is a collaboration of ideas. A back-and-
forth of dialogue to get an opinion on what's working, what direction
to take... even during the very early stages of writing, sometimes,
all the way through.
Perhaps they are great talkers, and in constantly narrating their
story to others, they begin to get a stunningly accurate feel for
which part the audience is reacting to, and which parts to drop. It
works for them. Of course, in this method, you have to make sure you
trust the people you are talking to.
Good thing is, be clear on the audience. If your story is a universal
one, then the shop keeper that you know so well might be a good person
to test it on.
Friends are a good test for your story, but I most often make it a
point to NOT tell them it is my story - this avoids any bias. Friends,
being friends, who know you so well, both stregnths and your
weaknesses, are too quick at times to insult, or to commend you. But
tell them you read a fantastic story, or that you saw a rare film,
make up a title, and tell them the story. Then you know what they
really think about the story itself!
Now, the introvert is watching, observing, and catching what he needs
through a deeply internal process - but the extrovert is also doing
pretty much the same in a different way... he is putting out a lot of
energy, and working from what he gets as a reaction. I feel both ways
lead to very different kinds of writing, all of it can be glorious,
depending on the COURAGE of the writer.
My firm belief has always been that a writer needs nothing else but
courage.
The courage to improve himself, the courage to cut out entire passages
he has written if suddenly he realises it doesn't work (that can be
quite painful for most people, and they quite often chicken out from
doing it - and in the process don't improve). And mostly, the courage
to SPEAK THE TRUTH.
So, what comes first - write it, or tell it? Well... what feels right?
On Jul 21, 10:12 am, syed siraj <siraj_s...@hotmail.com> wrote:
> Hi Friends,
> Please share your exp or ideas on the following
>
> Story Registration.
>
> How to proceed:
> Do we have to write the story and then tell the story.
>
> Tell the story to approx 5 to 10 people, if they feel it is good, write it down.
>
> Which is the safe method, to avoid the stories/ideas being stolen
>
> Thanks
> Siraj
>
> Share your memories online with anyone you want.http://www.microsoft.com/india/windows/windowslive/products/photos-sh...
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