Get Real

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


"The truth is out there," we are told, but lately it seems to get lost in the shuffle. The more technologically advanced we become, the more we find ourselves bombarded with beguiling betrayal. From clickbait to fake news, there is artifice around every corner trying to grab our attention.

These practitioners of prevarication may think they're pulling the wool over our eyes, but the good news is, we writers are too smart for them. As creative thinkers ourselves, we can spot a snow job from down the street.

Much like fast food, "reality TV" has a bad reputation thanks to its own generally unhealthy menu. But the discerning viewer can tell the difference between a genuine documentary like My 600-lb Life and the sitcomish silliness of Chrisley Knows Best. What they all have in common, however, is conflict.

I bring all this up to remind us of two things:

     1) People are entertained by conflict.
     2) A savvy audience can smell fakery.

Whether the drama is bonafide or bogus, the lure of any story lies in the conflict it portrays. But the more believable the conflict, the more we allow ourselves to invest in it.

Rather coincidentally, I just read a review of a new action movie in which the critic complains that the villain has no motivation nor backstory. Such a film lacks authenticity because even a bad guy has what he thinks is a good reason to give the hero a hard time.

By contrast, it's real human drama with a touch of suspense each time TV's Nev and Max catch a Catfish and get her face-to-face with the victim of her fake identity. It becomes even more relatable when we learn the reason for the ruse, sometimes even evoking a measure of sympathy for the catfish.

Similarly, a work of fiction carries the ring of truth if there is cause behind the conflict. Yes, the bad guy wants to rob a bank. But why? Because he wants money. But WHY? Because his son needs a kidney transplant. Now we have motivation, and when the truth is revealed we empathize with the troublemaker.

The bottom line is, keep it real and you'll keep your reader committed. Portraying genuine human drama in both the story and in the conflict you create for your characters is how you can avoid writing fake fiction.

Seven Things Writers Can Learn from Marty McFly

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

October 2015 was a milestone month for fans of Back to the Future, having reached one of the target dates in Marty and Doc's cinematic adventures. Three decades after its release, the trilogy boasts a cult following of DeLorean restorers, cosplay devotees, and less fanatical folk who simply enjoy well-told tales.

With that enduring popularity in mind, I offer seven things that make the Back to the Future series worth a second look for writers.

1. Lack of a hero arc
Unlike the typical protagonist, Marty doesn't experience an inner change that makes him grow as a person by the end of the story.  Instead, everything around him changes.  For the audience, that is satisfying enough. Just like James Bond, Indiana Jones or Frodo, the hero is consistent from story to story, while it's the new adventure providing the variety.

2. Back to the Future wasn't going to be a trilogy
Screenwriter Robert Zemeckis had only intended to make the one movie.  Only because of its enormous success did he write two sequels.  Had he known up front that would happen, he says he would have ended the first movie differently: He wouldn't have had Marty's girlfriend get into the time machine. He would have preferred for Marty and Doc Brown to go on their next mission alone.  That script complication was dealt with (a little too patly) by zapping her with a ray to make her think it was all a dream. The lesson here is: The End might not be The End, so be forward-thinking just in case you're lucky enough for fans to demand a followup.
 
3. Believable characters
To maintain realism in a fantasy, it helps to anchor it with characters who react like real people.  There are no wild and crazy sidekicks or talking animals to suspend belief.  Even the quirky Doc Brown is no more off the wall than your crazy uncle.  Each character contains humanity that invites us to invest ourselves in them.

4. Keepin' it Real
As for the fantastic storyline, Michael J. Fox himself makes the observation that the more radical visionary aspects of Back to the Future still maintained some resemblance to life as we know it. For example, he says, flying cars wouldn't need imaginary lanes to drive in; they have the entire sky in which to navigate. But flying cars are fantastic enough without giving the audience too many additional concepts to distract themselves with.

5. Reassuring repetition
Like the movie posters that echoed each other, repeating gags and catch phrases from film to film also gave the audience a comforting sense of familiarity. Whenever Biff taunted, "What are you, chicken?", we knew Marty was about to go full McFly.

6. Be Flexible
When producers couldn't strike a deal with Crispin Glover to reprise his role as Marty's dad, they brought in another actor and tried -- in vain -- to fool audiences using prosthetics, showing him upside down or at a distance, etc, to awkward effect.  To ease everyone's pain, they eliminate him as soon as possible.  Bottom line: If one of your characters is giving you too much trouble, don't try to negotiate; write him out entirely.

7. Take advantage of marketing tie-ins
Like cozy mystery authors who offer recipes and other tangible story elements to fans, Pepsi is capitalizing on one of the iconic series symbols this very day. A bottle of Pepsi Perfect, in a collectible container, sold out faster than 88 MPH on October 21st. Public demand, however, made 6,500 of them available again for, appropriately enough, $20.15.  They went on sale today, November 3rd, at 8:00 a.m. Central. (Update: They sold out within ten minutes.) http://shop.pepsi.com/

Some say Back to the Future is the best-written trilogy of all time.  Bob Zemeckis won't even attempt a fourth one lest he do it a disservice.  We can take many cues from Marty and friends in our own quest to write a story that stands the test of time.

There Oughta Be a Flaw

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

In virtually every story we write, it's a given that we will give our hero challenges to face.  Those obstacles we put in his/her path are likely to be external in nature, delivered by either circumstances or an antagonist.  But we can increase the drama further by slipping in some internal struggles for our hero too.

Besides making our protagonist more lifelike, a character flaw has the power to add the fascinating element of irony.  A hero who becomes the guardian of his brother's kids will have a worse time of it if he had vowed never to have children.  An eyewitness in a murder trial will find it harder to testify if he was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be.

The "inner demon" doesn't have to be anything illegal, immoral, or fattening.  It can be a guilty conscience, a moral dilemma, the fight between the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other.  Anything that creates personal turmoil is material for mayhem.

It can feel against the grain to make our hero imperfect, especially if we write in first person, because our own voice is inherently caught up in there on some conscious or unconscious level.  If it helps distance you from your character, seek out a trait you don't possess.  Need some ideas?  The Seven Deadly Sins could be a source of inspiration.  If you can remember all seven and don't have to look them up, more power to you.  I can usually only remember the ones I've gotten good at.

If you're totally uncomfortable giving your beloved hero a flaw, consider a vulnerability instead.  What's the difference?  One would consider chronic grouchiness a flaw, whereas a fear of heights is a vulnerability.  Simply put, a flaw is something we can change; a vulnerability is something we can't.  It's not Indiana Jones' fault that he's afraid of snakes.  (Although I suppose he could get therapy for that.)

Depending on what you're going for, a vulnerability can elicit sympathy more than a flaw.  By the same token, a flaw is something you can work into your character arc.

The most unflawed character in all of fiction would probably have to be Superman.  Here's a guy who possesses superhuman powers and uses them for the public good.  Yet he is vulnerable to kryptonite, much less the designs of a femme fatale who steals his invincible heart.  If Superman didn't possess qualities that could weaken him, he would be as plastic as the toys made in his image.

Whether our protagonist is a "hero" in the truest sense of the word, or an underdog who must rise from the ashes, we give our story layers by including an Achilles heel above and beyond the main conflict.  The reader may not have personal experience with a tsunami or a kidnapping, but everyone knows what it's like to be human.