Category Archives: -Karen Kittrell

Four Types of Playful Writers

7 Replies

Writers are, in general, playful people. As explained in a study by Dr. Rene Proyer “Playful people are able to reinterpret situations in their lives so that they experience them as entertaining or are able to reduce stress levels.” In my writing, I often rework real life situations with a better (or worse) ending and a more empowered character – a SuperMe – capable of witty remarks and amazing feats of skill, knowledge or cunning. Although it seems hard to find anything entertaining about pain or loss, the expression of an unpleasant experience in a creative way can be cathartic. For an example, recall Life of Pi by Yann Martel; young Pi survives on a boat with what seems to be a tiger, baboon and hyena.

The study categorizes playful people in four ways. I imagine writers can check one or all these categories. I will test each categories with myself and with the four Russian writers on my reading list for the year – Tolstoy, Chekov, Bulgakov and Nabokov.

1) “Other-directed playful” includes socializing with friends and other writers.   For me – a member of several writing groups, an “E” for extrovert on Myers-Briggs tests and working in a profession that involves people – this category is a hit. For the Russians writers, socializing with each other is well documented. Tolstoy reportedly took partying (1800’s style) at college to the extreme and never graduated. Lucky for him, it did not deter his writing career and success.

2) The “light-heartedly playful” consider life a game. And in games, it’s how the game is played. During the years I cared for my parents, we continued to play games. I had a performance baseline for each of them and measured each day against the previous. During play, the filters and pretensions dropped. Strategy choices revealed character, health and mental faculty. Humor was also part of the game. Chekhov began his writing career by publishing humorous anecdotes and stories to pay for his medical school studies. After that, his writing took a turn for the dark and serious.

3) The “intellectually playful” like to play with thoughts and ideas. Occasionally, the less tired and more clever me does re-orchestrate events to tell a playful story. I once threw away a microwave because my son said smoke came out of it. When I learned this might not have been true, I wrote a short story, “Trial of the Microwave.” On a more serious topic, Bulgakov wrote a satire about Stalinist Russia, Master and Margarita, which casts a wall-eyed loon and a talking cat as the devil’s attendants. I needed the talking cat in the microwave situation.

4) The “whimsically playful” enjoy “strange and unusual things and are amused by small day-to-day observations.” Details – accents, tone of voice, body language – convey information to the observant. The crystallized conflict photographed above caught my attention the other day. I took several photographs to determine if the ice was melting or the water was freezing. Before I could decide, my fingers numbed, and I almost dropped my phone in the water. Nabokov’s narrator in Lolita can dial up the description to create a complete image and feeling. Read through this jewel by Nabokov. He writes “. . . on the trim turf of the lawn-slope, an old gentleman with a white mustache, well-dressed – double-breasted gray suit, polka dotted bow-tie – lay supine, his long legs together, like a death-size wax figure.”

One last point about playfulness, Dr. Proyer notes that play enhances the ability to solve complex problems. A playful person can shift perspectives. In writer-speak, this shift is changing point of view. A writer imagines the thoughts and motivations of each character and determines the best narrator for a story. Solving (complex) plotting problems may mean jumping into another character’s thoughts and point of view. Or the story might need the intimacy of first person. Sometimes, I get it wrong. I’m quite proficient at switching from third person to first or vice versa. And being playful, I find it fun to edit and try it again in a different way.

A Russian Roulette of Writers

3 Replies

When the hygienist said it would be a few minutes, I reached into my bag for a book or story packed for such an occasion—a few stolen moments of reading. Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout mingled there in my oversized and heavy purse with my Nook, spare change and crumpled receipts. My short story group selected the book to examine short stories compiled into a novel.

 

A World Literature Illiterate

The dentist’s usual routine—rush in, smile, check teeth, smile, rush out—stopped at the sight of my book. He asked, “What are you reading?”

I told him about the short story group.

“If you want to read the best short stories, you should read Russian authors,” my Russian dentist said.

“Our study group reads mostly American authors,” I said, embarrassed at my limited knowledge. I hadn’t read many of the American writers until I joined the group several years ago. My discovery of authors like John Cheever, Tobias Wolf, Antonya Nelson, George Saunders and Jhumpta Lahiri was still new and fresh.

I remembered a few foreign authors. “We read James Joyce—Irish.” Dubliners, of course, duh. “And Gabriel Garcia Marquez—South American.”

The dentist sighed and examined me through his ultra-magnified glasses zooming into the tiniest imperfections in my teeth, pores in my skin and crevices of my soul. “If you want to read a real story, read Chekov, the greatest short story writer.”

 

Required Reading

A few months later, I visited the dentist again. Study guide in hand and prepared to redeem my reputation, I announced, “We’re studying Chekov this month. And this one.” I point to the page. “He’s Russian too?”

“Nabokov. Yes, he’s Russian.” The dentist, his eyes downcast, said nothing more.

“Have you read ‘The Woman with the Dog’ by Chekov?”

“Yes, yes, of course. At my home in Russia, we had a library of more than three hundred books. First edition books. Valuable, but all stolen.”

I imagined his family living in Russia during the cold war years and wondered what forced them to leave. “Do you want to read our lesson? We’re studying stories retold or written in homage to another work. The Chekov story is recast by the author Joyce Carol Oates. And Lorrie Moore writes ‘Referential’ based on Nabokov’s story. Have you read ‘Signs and Symbols’ by Nabokov?”

He looked at me again through those magnifying lenses attached to his glasses, piercing through my ignorant American inquiry. “I read it in eighth grade.”

I tried to remember what I read in eighth grade, on those late nights sitting in my bean bag chair next to a pole lamp I rescued from the trash. My middle school friends swapped vampire novels and other contraband. My college-aged brother left behind his anti-war books like Trumbo’s Johnny Got His Gun.

But what did I read in school? Did I read in school? Overall, my eighth grade literature was entirely forgettable compared to what I read at home after my parents went to sleep. My dentist’s superior schooling trumped the American mandates for my entirely forgettable eighth grade year.

 

Biased To Domestic

My dentist politely declined my outline and expressed no interest in the other writers. Instead, he tore a scrap of paper from my file, unfortunately not the part with the amount I owed him, and wrote Bulgakov and his novel shown in the photo above. “This is the best. Read this.”

The conversation haunted me for several weeks until I studied an article about Americans bias to invest domestically when greater returns existed elsewhere. I wondered if greater reading returns came from abroad also. There was only one way to know.

The idea of reading the best of Russian writers piqued my curiosity and is one of my New Year’s resolutions. About Chekov and Nabokov, my dentist later confessed that he wanted the literature in Russian and not translated into English. I sympathized, hoping he can read some English, because I was trusting this guy with my teeth.

 

TAGS:

My Just Deserts – A Little Free Library

2 Replies

Westminster Church serves and delivers turkey dinners to the hungry. On Thanksgiving morning, Detroit police, mostly older and maybe even retired, load large quantities of food into the trunks of their police cruisers. Beyond the curbside cars, two lines form–one to eat and one to serve. I join the serving line and notice a hunger for reading served with two Little Free Libraries by the sidewalk. Inside the church, orange table clothes, festive center pieces and individual Thanksgiving cards drawn by children adorn tables decorated for today.

 

My Just Deserts

Volunteers are directed to the kitchen, meal delivery or wait staff. My son and I are assigned to packaging desserts and must wear plastic trash bag-like aprons. We stand in the doorway to the unheated dessert room and inhale the scents of the season–cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and chocolate. This room houses thousands of single-serving Styrofoam containers stacked on trays in carts towering from floor to ceiling and front to back–more Styrofoam than I’ve ever seen in one place. Our work today is the culmination of days of preparation.

 

Is There an APP for This?

Our first orders are for quantities of 218, 63, 42, 28, several threes and several twos. Notes taped to each cart indicate the quantity–196 on this one and 360 on another with some trays already removed or partially emptied. We multiply and find a standard thirty-six per tray. Several pre-packed boxes bare labels for fifty-four, eighteen and then varying amounts of whatever number fit into whatever random box was available. We pack eight desserts in plastic bags and combine boxes with bags to fill the orders. Who knew there would be so much math? Then, we lose track of our count and have to start over. On holiday, our brains weren’t caffeinated enough for mental work. We resort to staging our orders–gather the quantity, pack the nearest cardboard box and label before we forget. It would be terrible to short change an order and accidentally leave out dessert.

 

An Accidental Milkshake

During our shift, we witness many dinners served–most bundled for delivery to the homebound. We are a tiny piece of a big operation at Westminster Church of Detroit. On our way home, we pass several open restaurants before deciding to stop for a hamburger. This is the coincidence, KARMA or “one good turn deserves another” part of the story. As our order is bagged, an employee sets a milkshake next to the tray and says it was made by mistake. “Do you want it?” My son and I–who spent the entire morning surrounded by desserts–realize we forgot to order dessert. The accidental milkshake feels much bigger than an accidental dessert and more symbolic of “just deserts.” My son rolls his eyes at my speculations and changes the topic. It is all connected. We find cause in coincidence, correlation in chaos and hope in desperation. When hungry and tired, as many are, accidental is welcome, and charitable is divine.

The Revenant – A Good Idea for a Film – Part 2 of 2

5 Replies

the-revenant-picA screenplay bridges the gap between novel and movie and converts the story into images and dramatized action. In the narrative-heavy novel, The Revenant by Michael Punke, readers know Hugh Glass’s thoughts and motivations as if inside his head, third person point of view close. Although this works well in the book “The Revenant – A Good Idea for a Novel,” on the big screen, viewers would see Hugh Glass and be clueless. What is he thinking?

Screenwriter, Michael L. Smith converts the novel into scenes that comprise a screenplay. The motives and conflicts are visible with dialogue, action or flashbacks. The director, Alejandro G. Inarritu, morphs the screenplay into award-winning creative expression. Smith minimizes the object story of the stolen Amstadt and maximizes the relationships, injustice, and personal loss. The screenplay shows theme, motivation and key conflicts in ten pages translating to ten minutes of screen time. In a quick comparison of the first ten pages, see how the movie builds on the screenplay scenes.

It’s a Good Movie When . . .

  1. The opening scene draws viewers into the character. Smith begins the screenplay with Glass whispering “not yet” to his sweat-soaked shivering son. The film takes this touching scene and places it in the aftermath of an attack where Glass finds his injured son and reveals his own motivation in the words, “Don’t give up. As long as you can grab a breath, you fight.” Contrast this to the novel which uses in medias res (beginning in the middle) to show Glass experiencing Fitzgerald and Bridger in the act of abandoning him and stealing his gun and knife. Each opening scene shows injustice – a sick child, a burned village, and an injured man left behind. Each version begs to know what happens next to this character.
  2. The antagonist is a worthy adversary. The screenplay, scene two, begins in the middle of a campsite of hungry and homesick trappers. Dialogue centers around Fitzgerald challenging and undercutting the leadership of Captain Henry who wears a buckskin jacket with long fringe. I visualize Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett; the Captain must be a good guy. We know Fitzgerald will be trouble. In the film, scene two luxuriates with precious minutes of water running in trees and nature sounds with camera angles the Sierra club would envy. The camera catches the quiet step of Glass and two others creeping toward an elk. Scene three opens to Fitzgerald ordering the trappers to bundle more furs together. He appears to have some authority. Then when the Arikara chief attacks, Fitzgerald proves to be a fighter. So far, the chief has my vote for the antagonist. In scene four on the boat and scene five at the next camp, Fitzgerald challenges the Captain and insults Glass. Now it is known. He will be a problem when left to care for Glass. In the novel, Glass pursues Fitzgerald regardless of dangerous weather or hostile tribes of Arikara warriors. These two immediate threats are far more interesting than the eventual meeting of Glass and Fitzgerald at the end of the story. In the film, the meeting of Glass and Fitzgerald is a Hollywood big ending.
  3. Art is not forgotten. Inarritu deserves his Academy Award for his choice of setting alone. The scenery behind the blood and mutilation is ruggedly beautiful. My in-house cinematography expert reports the crew filmed only with natural light in many Canadian locations and in Argentina. Cinematographer, Emmanuel Lubezki, also wins an Academy Award for his efforts on this big screen epic. The film sports many talented actors, but only one can win, best actor at the Academy Awards. For the record, Hugh Glass did not sleep inside a horse; it is a Hollywood stunt. If you haven’t seen the film, do it for this scene — Leonardo Dicaprio, horse, cliff and snow.

Contrast Inarritu’s production with Jason Blum and his low-budget film production company (films with price tags in the thousands and receipts in the millions). NPR’s Ari Shapiro recently interviewed Blum. A 2013 Forbes article by Mark Hughes puts Blum’s movies in perspective. Blum is responsible for Paranormal Activity 1, 2, 3, 4 and however many he produces after the sixty plus films already on his resume (including Whiplash). He says production costs are contained by restricting the number of locations, eliminating big stunts, and using unknown actors.

The filming of the Revenant did none of these. The Revenant is big budget, multi-continent, 156 minutes, and a makeup artist’s dream for blood, wounds and semi-frozen big star talent.

The Revenant – A Good Idea for a Novel – Part 1 of 2

6 Replies

 

screenshot-2016-10-05-06-39-34Michael Punke found enough good ideas in the journals about Hugh Glass to write a novel. At the end of the book, the author acknowledged his historical uncertainties. Alejandro G. Inarritu also found good ideas in The Revenant about the life of Hugh Glass. Inarritu strayed far enough from the Punke story to barely (or shall I say bear-ly) resemble the novel. For weeks, I wondered why Inarritu changed the story. Why mess with a good thing?

The answer to that question came unexpectedly in a screenwriting class. In this two part series, Part One explores the highlights of the novel.  Then, Part Two will show why the screenplay requires a different story and where the screenplay excels. In terms of the classic elements of story, The Revenant is rich in conflict, characters and resolution, which is the structure of the story, the plot.

It’s a Good Book When . . .

1) The action scenes are hazardous to my health.  Mesmerized by each blow of the grizzly bear’s paw, I listen to the audio book, slowing in my driving speed. Other cars are whipping past at 90mph. My car rocks in their wake until the bear’s final swipe. Punke’s novel drops stunning action into almost every scene. Action is conflict. And in this novel, the conflict is evenly spread between nature, man and self. In one scene, a snake strikes with deadly poison. Visualizing the scene, I can hardly grip the steering wheel. Also, I’m thankful I tackled this story in the heat of summer, because I feel cold in 90 degree weather. Other hazards include the frontier skirmishes with different tribes–a few fur trappers against what seems like an Arikara army. I want to duck for cover under the dashboard from the assault of arrows. For self-conflict, Glass battles his own desire for revenge when he finds Bridger, one of the volunteers left to care for him. Bridger’s haunted and tortured thoughts echo in my memory foreshadowing what is to come. Punke writes, “Stunned silence filled the room as the men struggled to comprehend the vision before them. Unlike the others, Bridger understood instantly. In his mind he had seen this vision before. His guilt swelled up, churning like a paddle wheel in his stomach. He wanted desperately to flee. How do you escape something that comes from inside? The revenant, he knew, searched for him” (p. 201).

2) The characters’ problems are larger than life. As I open the refrigerator to pull out a ready-made dinner in my heated house with clean running water, I lose appreciation for the survival challenges of two hundred years ago. The Revenant is written about fur trappers in 1823. Survival requires creativity, skill and courage. Glass must somehow find food without a knife, gun or a fast food restaurant on every corner. The descriptions of ways to trap small animals, catch fish and defeat other predators draw in the mystified urban reader. Along Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, Glass must find shelter and eventually transportation. I marvel at the “live or die” mentality that forces Glass to confront wolves feeding at a buffalo carcass. Without food, Glass will be too weak to heal, to live, and most importantly to seek revenge.

3) When revenge is not so sweet. The Revenant is an object story. This revenge-fueled obsession is because of a stolen gun. Punke devotes pages to describing the Anstadt, “a so-called Kentucky flintlock, made, like most of the great arms of the day by German craftsmen in Pennsylvania” (p. 18). Two hundred years ago, a gun was life, and Glass trusted his life to his reliable and beautiful gun. That’s why the novel’s bear attack has Glass drop to one knee and aim to shoot the bear’s heart at exactly the right distance to kill. Punke builds rich backstories for Fitzgerald and his motive to take the gun and continue in his corrupt ways. The stolen knife, however, fills Bridger with guilt. As for resolution, stories end with the character either accomplishing the goal or not. Glass finds both Bridger and Fitzgerald (not much of a spoiler). Each reader will have to decide whether Glass is satisfied with the non-Hollywood ending.

In summary, the novel adds a rich historical perspective of life on the frontier. Scenes with French voyageurs, Yellow Horse and an unlucky Captain Henry heighten this storytelling. A quick internet search on Hugh Glass brings poems, songs, historical accounts and movies. The lore and fictional accounts elevate Hugh Glass to legend. Each fictional remake of the fur trapper and mountain man adds to his story. In Part two of “The Revenant – A Good Idea for a Film,” the legend shifts in a new direction.