Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

The One Plot

Da-da-da-dah!         (Beethoven’s Fifth, remember?

Yesterday, I talked a little bit about my search for the 8 Plots, those mysterious archetypes, paradigms that I had been hearing teachers and fellow writers reference over the years without ever actually listing them.   I went searching and re-discovered something I have long known.  Humanity has a passion for lists!  Maybe we’re overwhelmed by the vast array of knowledge and feel like if we can just reduce portions of it to a definitive list, we would be able to master it.  (Ain’t gonna happen, but that’s another story.)

In the course of this, I found list after list of plots — The Thirty-Six Dramatic Situations, and 20 Master Plots (and How to Build Them), for example.*  Lots of lists and lots of numbers.  But, for some reason, I couldn’t come up with the more ubiquitously cited eight.

Having a pencil and paper at hand, I sat down to noodle and doodle, and I scribbled away furiously, until it suddenly came to me.  All these variations I was devising could be boiled down into one.

Every plot, at its essence, is the Quest for Salvation.  (Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, this turns out to be very similar to Joseph Campbell’s research.  Check out “The Hero With a Thousand Faces” or “The Power of Myth.”)

Test it.  Think of a book, a movie, a play.  Once you strip away the details (the mere bagatelles of setting, location, psychology, time period and so forth) and you figure out exactly how “salvation” is defined in this particular world, I think you’ll find that it works.

In all romantic comedies, Salvation = Happily Ever After.

In murder mysteries, Salvation = Solve the Crime, Catch the Murderer

In many sci-fi stories (“Independence Day,” The Terminator series), Salvation = (literally) Saving the World

The difference between a comedy and a tragedy is whether or not salvation is attained in the end.

I think that our entire body of literature can be distilled down to this one plot.

So, the good news is, you can’t come up with an original plot.  All you can do is come up with an original voice in which to write about some variation of recognizable circumstances.

And we can all do that.

 

* Lists of plots

Hasn’t everything already been said?

Why even start.

One of the big fears in starting a blog—or any other piece of writing—is that you won’t have anything original to say.  Hasn’t everything already been said?  You’d think so, wouldn’t you?  There are those billion other blogs.  And 147 million items in the Library of Congress with 10,000 more being added each day.  Seneca tells us we lost an estimated 40,000 works when the Library of Alexandria burnt.  Nobody’s quite sure, but that could have been in 48 B.C.  48 B. C., and there were already 40,000 books on the shelves!

How could there possibly be anything new to say?  Why even start? 

Just because every single person is made up of the same building blocks (ever heard of DNA?), so that we can all be traced back to some common ancestress , none of us look exactly alike.  Our fingerprints are different.  Our brainwaves are different.

You and I can start with the same thought and spin them together with all our other thoughts, and the tapestries we weave aren’t going to be identical.  Similar, maybe.  Identical.  No.  (Unless, of course, you plan on plagiarism.  If you do–don’t.)

But, in many ways, it’s time to stop worrying about originality.  “They” say that there are only 8 plots. 

Actually, there are variations on this.  There are three plots.   Twelve.  Twenty.  Thirty-Six.  Whatever.  But when I was in grad school, I would hear, over and over, that there are only 8 plots.  Many years later, in NY, when I began to write, it finally occurred to me to ask someone what those 8 plots were.  Nobody knew!  I’ve since discovered the origin of the dictum and what the 8 plots actually are.   (A good overview of the usual suspects can be found here.)

But, before I found that overview, I spent a good few hours scribbling lists of plots and trying to arrive at the definitive eight.  Along the way, I made a discovery.

There’s only one plot.

So, yeah.  Everything has already been said.

On the other hand, nobody has said it quite the way I will or you can.  So, it’s okay for us all to go ahead and write our own stories.

Stop worrying if your vision
is new.
Let others make that decision.
They usually do.
Just keep moving on.
 — Stephen Sondheim ‘Sunday in the Park with George’

So, we’ll keep moving on.  And tomorrow, I’ll tell you about the one plot.  (Seems like it should have an organ chord, doesn’t it?  And big Gothic lettering.

Tomorrow.

The One Plot

Da-da-da-dah (imagine Beethoven’s Fifth embedded here.)

Hats

The WIFM Under the Hats

Yesterday, at the very end of the WIFM post, I suggested that what’s in it for you might be under the hats. You’re probably wondering what in the world that means. So, let me try to explain.

I’ve worn a lot of hats.

(Not literally. Hats don’t look too good on me usually. Unlike one of my favorite bloggers, Havi, over at The Fluent Self who appears to be stunningly gorgeous in any hat she puts on.)

But I’ve done a lot of different things in my life. I’ve occasionally been surprisingly successful. Sometimes, I even meant to be. I’ve also stood in my own way with truly astonishing frequency.

You might find some of what I’ve learned helpful in your own journey. There’s a good chance that something in my life might resonate with something in yours. I’ve certainly done enough different things.

I’ve been a cashier and a secretary.

I’ve been a business owner.

I’ve been an actor and a director, an award-winning playwright and an audition coach.

I’ve written fiction and non-fiction—and gotten some of it published. (More to come!)

I’ve done some programming, website design and software training.

I’ve been down the Intercoastal Waterway in a 20 ft boat. (19 days on the water. On a 20 ft boat. With my husband. Still married. Achievement comes in many forms!)

I’ve been on my co-op board for like half of my natural life. (Maybe it just seems that way.)

I’ve been an extra on a Law & Order grand jury, and I’ve actually been the foreperson of a real jury. (Wow! Was that an experience!)

I took up exercise at the ripe old age of 44 (or 45). (Part of that “ripe old age” thing is that you don’t always remember exactly when something happened.) So, I’m not a jock, but I know some things about physical (un)fitness.

I’ve chickened out of lots of opportunities and seized a few. Some of them worked out great! (For example, I once stood at a stage-door and asked one of my favorite actresses in the world to read my play and got so incredibly lucky that she did a reading of it. Talk about taking a fire walk! There’s gonna be a fire walk post. Count on it.)

I’ve met with Broadway producers and Bowery bums.

I’ve lived in Sunnyside in New York City and creekside in Florida.

I’ve been married for 20 years. Or more. (Sometimes, it seems like a lot more. Those of you married any length of time know what I’m talking about.)

The whole thing has been quite an adventure – for someone who is basically a couch potato. Then again — “All serious daring starts from within.” –Eudora Welty

And this blog is another adventure. If you want to come along, we’re just going to set out on the Yellow Brick Road and see where it takes us. It’s probably going to start out in a tiny, tiny spiral pattern, almost turning in on itself. And then it’ll open up and branch out into cornfields and forests and castles with Wicked Witches and Wonderful Wizards along the way. Or head off into some other worlds entirely. You never know what you’ll find!

See you tomorrow! On the road.  Wearing our hats.

Why should you care?

The WIFM

Yesterday, I talked about why I am here.  It wasn’t quite the existential question it looks like today.  It was a little more specific than that.  The question really was “why am I blogging?”

Today, the question is “Why should you care?”  Why should what I think matter?  What’s the WIFM—“What’s In It For Me?” for you.

An excellent question.

First tip of the blog–always ask that question.  I’m not an advocate of unrelenting selfishness, but life is short.  There better be something for you in anything on which you choose to spend your precious time.  But—second tip of the blog—don’t  stop doing something or fail to start just because the answer is not immediately apparent.  Sometimes, you have to be right in amongst the trees and climbing up them before you can see the forest.

In this case. . .maybe the WIFM is  just another way to procrastinate.  Maybe some fleeting amusement.  Maybe some useful information.

Maybe not.

Like most people, the Exact Center of the Universe is wherever you happen to be, not necessarily where I am.  So my thoughts aren’t gonna be useful just because they’re my thoughts.

On the other hand, I’ve been through some stuff and learned some things that I might be able to share with you here.   Maybe that’s what’s in it for you.

Or maybe it’s what’s under the hats.  (Tune in tomorrow.)


Why Am I Here?

OMG, another blog! 

Just how many blogs do you figure there are, anyway?

As of December 2011, according to this site, it looks like there are over 2 billion people using the internet.  900 million of them are on Facebook (FB stats here)– which you could think of as kind of a mini-blog, I guess.

(I tried to figure out what percentage that was out of the 2 billion—being somewhat easily distracted by statistics–but the calculator on my Blackberry won’t let me enter 2 billion – and please don’t tell me I can use Excel or figure out what percentage 900 is of 2000.  That’s like higher math, and I’m not in the mood just now.*  This is supposed to be about words, not numbers.)

Anyway, 2 billion on the internet, and, apparently, about a billion of us have a blog.

That’s 50%.  (Even I can do that kind of math.)

And it’s now a billion and one, folks!  Here I am!

Eeek.

(That is a sound I make frequently.  One of my friends has taken to calling me Eeek-laine.)

Embarking on the new adventure of blogging.

So why am I here?  Couple of reasons, I think.—maybe more than a couple.

  1. Try something new
  2. Break through a long-standing case of Writer’s Block
  3. Force myself to improve my writing by practicing in public like Seth Godin suggests
  4. Sound off—who can resist a bully pulpit?
  5. Start a conversation—because I guess it would be only fair to listen to what you have to say, too.  (You can post comments, you know.)
  6. Give the exhibitionist in me a little bit of equal time with the inhibitionist (is that even a word?).
  7. Share some information, some thoughts, some tips, some struggles—because there’s a good chance that some of you are having the same struggles
  8. Put my website on somebody’s radar screen–since I seriously don’t want to be Emily Dickinson and die with a drawer full of unpublished/unread writing.  (Although I played Emily Dickinson once – and that’s a subject for another post.  One of the things I’ve learned in my research about blogging is it helps to have a lot of things to talk about and to spread them out.  So we’ll get to that later.)

The answer is any and all of the above—and probably some other reasons that aren’t clear yet.

Why should you care?

Let’s save that for tomorrow, shall we?

* Oh, by the way.  That calculation?  900 million/2 billion.  It’s 45%.

‘Show me this world. Open me. Change me.’

“There are those rare people who can look at the world and see things the rest of us don’t see until they show us. These are the writers. There are the special few who can take that vision and turn it back into a world. These are the directors, the designers. There are fearless beings who can live in that world and show us who we are. These are our actors. There are dedicated people who know why that world matters so very much. Crew, theater staff, producers, investors, managers, marketers. And then there are the people who step forward and say ‘Show me this world. Open me. Change me.’ These are our audiences. And when all of these people come together and say ‘Yes’, there is theater.”

–Jordan Roth in his acceptance speech for Clybourne Park winning Best Play at the Tony Awards in 2012.

Yes.

All About the Email, Baby!

Today’s post is all about the email.

Because I’ve got some exciting news to announce.

Okay.  Now I don’t want to mislead you.  This is not the announcement. This is about making the announcement.

I want to reach as many people in my circle of friends, colleagues, interested parties, etc. as I can in as efficient a manner as possible.  Makes sense, right?  So, I need to send out an email.  And, because everybody’s always talking about “branding,” I figure it will be best if the email could look a lot like this website.

And that meant learning to use one of those email list management services.  And one thing has led to another, and I’m off to the post office to sign up for a post office box.

Why? you ask.

Well, see, there are these regulations that establish certain standards for bulk email.  This is a good thing, right?  Without it, I’d probably have several thousand emails a day instead of several hundred.  I’m all for it.

Except for that one little part that requires a physical mailing address to be included in the email.

I’m sure that works out perfectly well for a big company, or any organization where the employees leave their homes and go to an office.  But for those of us who are self-employed, it can get a little tricky.

My first email of this type will only be going to people I know, people with whom I have a relationship. But it’s going to include a “Forward to a Friend” link — because, hey, it really is good news, and there might be people who my friends and colleagues think should know about it.  (Note to friends and colleagues:  please, please, please forward the email to anybody you think might be interested!)

Being currently in an optimistic frame of mind — because I do have this good news, and that always makes things look rosier — I’m thinking that, possibly, people whom I have never met might see this email.

Do we really think it is a good idea for untold millions — no exaggeration — if you really think about it, you will realize that no matter how successful this email will be in getting out the news, there will remain millions who have been untold.  Sigh.  But do we think it is a good idea for untold millions to have my home address?  Even if I thought that was a good idea, there’s a good chance my husband would not.

And so. . .a post office box!

Turns out, they are not that expensive, and — at least where I live — they are easily obtained.  (But you’ve got to have more ID than you currently need to vote — and that’s saying something!)

If you’re one of those friends and colleagues of mine, watch your inboxes for the email!  If you’re not, and you’re just dying of curiosity about this exciting news, you can sign up for my email alerts here.

And. . .we’re off!

Welcome to my very first blog post!

It’s a little scary to launch a new endeavor–especially one so fraught with narcissism as blogging.  You know those voices in your head? The ones that like to shout–or, more often, whisper insidiously–Just who do you think you are?

Well, they are working overtime today.

Who do you think you are to start blogging?  To have a website? A bookstore? Who do you think would ever be interested in anything you have to say?  What’s wrong with you?

But I’ve decided to tell the Tyrannosaurus Chatterboxicus to sit down and shut up.

I would like to point out to that garrulous TC that I am interested in what I have to say, and that’s enough. If nothing else, this should get me writing a bit every day. And if other people decide to come along, that will be great.

There may be interesting things here.

I’ll be talking about writing and creativity and what gets in the way. I’ll be talking about theatre and what I’ve learned as an actor, a director, a playwright. I’ll be talking about computers and website design and the bruises I’ll be getting from beating my head against the brick wall of trial-and-error programming.

I’ll be talking about visibility–oh, the shame of poking your head up and saying, “Here I am. Look at me.“–and having to combine all manner of esoteric business-like disciplines (marketing, pr, research, compliance, data design, accounting, etc.) with all manner of other esoteric creative-like disciplines (plot, theme, structure, imagination) into the more or less coherent whole of an Artist Entrepreneur.

Sometimes I’ll be talking about how hard all that is, and sometimes I’ll be pointing out some tricks and tools that have made it easier for me–and might work for you. And sometimes I’ll probably just be talking, and we’ll all wonder what the heck I’m talking about.

I’m learning this blogging software as I go along. Weird things will happen. The TC wants me to wait until I understand it perfectly, but you know and I know that just means it will never get off the ground.

Leap, and the net will appear. — John Burroughs

I’m leaping.

Bookmark this site if you want to see what happens next.


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