Assistant Editor Kate Jayroe: Imagine that you’re writing a short story or novel. In drafting a scene, are you seeing your intentions play out much like a film? A miniseries? A prestige television show? Dramatic moments might appear in slow motion, a soundtrack might kick in at a pivotal moment, and a popular actor could be portraying your character.
If your answer is “yes,” I’d venture to say, you’re likely in the majority.
When I’m teaching a fiction workshop, I’ll ask my students to raise their hands if they imagine a film playing out in their minds as they work on their short story drafts. Typically, they all raise hands without hesitation. When I assign the short story “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been” by Joyce Carol Oates (a classic), I’ll also show them the theatrical trailer to Smooth Talk, a film adaptation of the story starring Laura Dern as Connie and Treat Williams as Arnold Friend.
It’s one thing to read phenomena like tension, dread, conflict, and danger. It’s another thing to see them, hear them, watch them pan in and out…images and sound create an entire world that’s been designed for the audience, not just by author, editor, and publisher but by director, producer, actors, cameraperson (camerapeople?), sound editors, boom mic holders, makeup artists, stylists, etc.
I am curious: Does writing fiction with the medium of film in mind help the writer? Does it hinder them? As a reader, too: Are we selling our imaginations short when we plug the familiar beats, visuals, and faces of film into our textual relationships?
As I research these questions this year, I would posit an initial hypothesis that film is, if not more influential than fictional texts, at least tantamount to the influence of traditional texts as a basis for craft in fiction.
As a total line-level nerd, I’ve focused on strengthening my plot muscles while working and studying as a PhD student in fiction. Of course, I devoured novels with plots that complicate things, plots that span across generations of time, and, perhaps most importantly, plots that succeed in moving the novel from beginning to end. A couple that immediately come to mind: The Trees by Percival Everett, which demonstrates how actual history can become an immediate catalyst for a fictional plot, and A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki, which shows how a contemporary frame narrative allows a character to introduce the plot in their own words.
I have zero shame in admitting that in addition to reading these excellently executed novels to study plot, I also watched the OG Star Wars trilogy. I revisited, (for perhaps the hundredth time since the age of ten,) the BBC Pride & Prejudice miniseries starring Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth. Yes, I’ve also read the novel, but I found myself drawn to the miniseries adaptation when seeking insight. It’s one thing to read about Lizzy reading the letter with unfortunate news about her youngest sister, Lydia, but it’s quite another to see her consternation, to hear the Carl Davis score turn ominous in tone. Of course, those things won’t be present in my own writing, but the emphasis on emotion, and the proliferation of tools used to amplify it, are great reminders to slow down in scene, to add other senses and sensations, and to stoke tension.
Too, I wonder: Why do we not formally study film more often within writing courses and programs? I’d like to advocate for more courses that explicitly study the craft of film techniques in fiction writing. It seems that in many ways, it’s already quietly happening in classrooms, in piecemeal moments of a lesson plan, and in student commentary during workshops.
In many great author success stories, you hear about books getting “optioned” for television or film. There’s also the writers who work in film and television (I’m thinking of Samantha Irby with And Just Like That or Alyssa Nutting being involved in the adaptation of her novel Made for Love into a television series with HBO/max). If this is a desired outcome of author success, why is it not more formalized within the academy? And if this is a natural mode of reading and writing, imagining the experiences of both as analogous to experiencing film, how has writing fundamentally changed since the advent of cinema?
I’m afraid I’ll end this blog post with all questions and no answers—theory heads, have at it!
I’ll be continuing to ponder this, and I’ve no doubt my own craft will continue to pull from various film techniques.
