Posts Tagged character

What Hamilton Taught Me About Story

Hamilton is the biggest musical phenomenon of our generation. With multiple Tony awards, a Pulitzer, and tickets more coveted than the World Series or Super Bowl, Hamilton has captured America’s collective imagination.

There have been great posts about how Hamilton demonstrates innovative storytelling, the line-level genius of Hamilton’s opening lines. and what you can learn about story selling from Hamilton’s talented creator, Lin-Manuel Miranda. Today, I’m going to look at what we can learn about writing a compelling middle-grade story by listening* to Hamilton.

Rhythm & Rhyme

I could write a treatise on the beauty of Miranda’s use of syncopation, internal rhyme, and slant rhyme to create two plus hours of songs that get stuck in my head like no other ear worm I’ve ever heard. But suffice it to say that if you can write phrases and dialogue that use rhythm the way Hamilton does, you’ll have a story that librarians, teachers, and parents will love to read aloud and kids will love to hear.

Repetition Builds Character

One of my favorite techniques from Hamilton is the use of repeated musical and lyrical phrases to build character and theme. In a musical, as in a middle-grade novel, there is not endless time to describe characters in great detail because it would be boring. To keep readers/viewers engaged, you have to build character through action. And Miranda is masterful at that:

Talk Less, Smile More – This advice comes from Aaron Burr just after we learn that he is the one who shoots our hero, Alexander Hamilton. The tension between Burr as the enemy and Burr as the friend continues throughout the story. Hamilton eventually turns this advice (talk less, smile more, don’t let them know what you’re against of what you’re for) into evidence that Burr is more focused on self-interest than justice (if you stand for nothing, Burr, what will you fall for?) and ultimately decides to endorse Thomas Jefferson for president, a choice that leads to the duel that killed him. Miranda goes one step farther, showing us that, at the end, Burr realizes that his legacy will be forever tainted because he killed an American hero to protect his own pride: He may have been the first one to die, but I’m the one who paid for it. I survived but I paid for it. Now I’m the villain in your history. I was too young and blind to see. I should have known the world was wide enough for both Hamilton and me.”

Bonus Point: Burr is a fabulous example of a complex antagonist. If you can create a villain that readers feel sympathy for by the end of the book, you’ve done your job well.

The Schuyler Sisters – Angelica Schuyler is my favorite character because of her complexity, but also for this line:

Listen to my declaration. We hold these truths to be self evident that all men are created equal. And when I meet Thomas Jefferson, I’m gonna compel him to include women in the sequel.

But she’s also a great example of how Miranda used repetition to build character. She loves Alexander from the moment she meets him,  yet gives him up out of loyalty to her sister Eliza. But even when he marries Eliza you know the sisters come as a package deal and that Angelica will continue to be a part of the story (I know my sister like I know my own mind…). And that makes her return in The Reynolds Pamphlet after Alexander’s affair comes to light even more poignant. “I came as soon as I heard…I’m not here for you…I know my sister like I know my own mind…I love my sister more than anything in this life. I will choose her happiness over mine every time.”

Why do you write like you’re running out of time – Eventually we realize Hamilton does this because he IS running out of time.

Bonus Point: Like a sympathetic antagonist, a complex and flawed protagonist makes really compelling fiction. My daughter was horrified to learn that Hamilton cheated on his wife because she loved him so much as a character that she couldn’t believe he’d do something so awful. And yet, she & I both still cry every time he dies.

Although we don’t have a full orchestra behind us when we write, we do have a lot of instruments in our ensemble that can be repeated to build character and theme: Imagery (especially when it is repeated to create a motif), gestures and phrases associated with a specific character, and rhythm that conveys the tone and emotions of a scene.

Foreshadowing

In some ways, the repetition itself is foreshadowing. We know from the first song that Hamilton is going to be shot by the end of the story. We don’t find out how until the second-to-last song. And yet, there are hints throughout. He writes “like he’s running out of time,” “fools who run their mouths off wind up dead,” “you have no control of who lives, who dies, who tells your story.” And it can’t really be an accident that the first duel (Ten Duel Commandments) comes right after Eliza begs Hamilton to “Stay Alive,” foreshadowing both their son’s death in a duel and Alexander’s own death, as promised in the very first song, at the hands of his one-time friend, Aaron Burr. Genius!

Am I the only one who is mining Hamilton for writing tips? What  did you learn from listening? Leave a comment below!

* Yes, it’s true, I have not actually seen Hamilton, only listened, as I live in the Seattle area, far from such an option. But I have hope that I will see it someday soon!

Character Lessons from Doctor Who

If I say watching a television show is a study in writing, does doing so then qualify as “work?” (More importantly, can I write off Netflix when I do my taxes?)

I watch Doctor Who for the awesome characters, creative sci-fantasy elements, and off-the-wall stories, all of which have taught me a ton about writing (and often leave me shaking my fist and screaming “MOFFAT!”). But after every episode, I feel more inspired as a writer – and more inspired to mess with my characters. If you’re a Time Lord fan, or a would be-fan, beware: ahead there be spoilers.

1. Give minor characters so much history and personality and life that they could carry their own series.

Most episodes of Doctor Who introduce new characters who are only present for that episode. They could easily be two-dimensional, but they rarely are. As an example, take the series four episode, “Midnight,” which is more psychological horror than your normal whimsical Doctor stuff. Not a single character on the shuttle (aside from the Doctor) would ever appear in another episode, but they were as real and developed as any long-time companion…making their actions and fates near the end of the episode all the more horrifying.

This isn’t to say that every single name you drop in your novel should have a five-page character sheet. In fact, that can be detrimental – “character soup” is something I often have to deal with in edits. But your story will be all the more rich and real if each character has problems and passions that drive their actions, no matter how short their page time.

2. Give everyone a chance to be a hero.

Because good heros (and good characters) are flawed, and they can’t do it all. The Doctor is all kinds of flawed (and if you don’t believe me, you clearly haven’t watched The Waters of Mars). But one of the things I love most about Doctor Who is that so often it’s those minor, one-episode characters I mentioned a few paragraphs up who really save the day, often by some sort of personal sacrifice.

This is particularly valuable in middle grade stories, where the main character is likely very internally focused. Think about Hermione accusing Harry of always trying to be the hero. Sometimes the load must be shared – a great lesson for middle grade characters (and readers). The main character can’t do it alone, and shouldn’t have to.

3. Don’t just be cruel to your characters – be creatively cruel.

Death? So not the worst thing that can happen. Take a look at some of the companions’ fates.

When I think of Captain Jack and the Face of Bo, I want to weep. (Even though Jack’s fate to live a bajillion years and die as a giant head might not be canon, I still just…ack.) Then there’s Rose and her not-quite-Doctor – a strange end to a character arc that managed to be both satisfying and devastating. Martha’s whole year just made me feel bad for her (although admittedly irritated at times). And Amy and Rory – I’m glad they had each other, but if you didn’t tear up at “raggedy man, good-bye” then you have no soul.

But let’s look more closely at Donna, because she’s my favorite companion. She doesn’t die. She doesn’t lose any family members or friends (that she knows of). She’s not physically or mentally harmed in any way. She is, in fact, the exact same person she was before she met the Doctor – a temp from Chiswick in a wedding dress. We last see her happily leaving a church with her new husband and a winning lottery ticket tucked in her cleavage.

Sounds like a happy ending, yeah? But in context it’s a more brutally heartbreaking finale than anything I could’ve possibly imagined for her. For her, Donna. That’s the key – it was an ending that wouldn’t have had the same emotional impact with any other character. It could only work with Donna, with her cutting humor masking that enormous inferiority complex, with her mother who constantly made her feel worthless, with her gradual development into becoming a woman who would quite literally save the world. Maybe it’s not a fate worse than death, but for the Doctor (and the viewers) it was gut-wrenching. And it would have been for Donna, too, if she could only remember.

What are the stakes for your characters? The threat of death is certainly motivating, but try being more creatively cruel. Think of Artemis Fowl in The Time Paradox, forced to deal with the consequences of his own regrettable actions by literally confronting his evil 10-year old self. Pinpoint what really makes your characters afraid and vulnerable, and make them face it head-on.

Any other Whovian writers out there? What lessons have you learned from the Doctor? I’d love to hear them!

Michelle is the author of the upcoming I HEART BAND series (Penguin, Fall 2013), about the thrills and spills, practices and performances, crushes and crises of middle school band geeks. She’s a screenwriter for a Manhattan-based TV/film production company and lives in Queens with her husband (and band mate) and their chocolate lab (who is more of a vocalist). She blogs, tweets, and tumblrs.

Who’s the Boss of Your Writing?

 

When I’m not writing or doing menial household labor (poorly), I am playing tennis. Strangely enough, what I learn on the court many times translates to my writing. One such lesson I learned the other day was this:

The ball is the boss.

My instructor noticed I seemed to be using the slice and the topspin groundstroke randomly, with no relation to how the ball was coming to me. This was true. Many times, I’d decide, before my opponent even returned the ball, that I was going to use a particular shot. If you’re a seasoned tennis player, however, you see the fault in this – you have to wait and see where and how the ball is coming to you to determine how you should hit it. So my instructor gave me this simple rule: if the ball is rising, hit a slice. If it is dropping, hit a topspin.
This translates to: The Ball is the Boss. Wait and see what the ball is doing and then react accordingly.
It also translates to Get Out of Your Own Head, Stupid!
In writing, this rule is: The Character is The Boss.
No matter how I want a certain thing to happen in my story or how well I plot out the story ahead of time, the character is the boss. If I stay in the character’s head (not in my own) I will write a truer story. My character will lead me to what would actually happen, not what I as the author think “should” happen.
It’s about being flexible, not getting ahead of things or forcing things, letting the plot or the shot work out organically.
It’s about shutting off your brain, trusting your instincts and letting go.

So here’s my question to all you writers: Who’s the boss of you?

Beverly Patt steps off the tennis court once in a while to serve up some middle grade and young adult fiction.