Chekhov's Gun

Anton Chekhov said that anything (object or person) that is introduced must be used later or shouldn’t be there.  “One must not put a loaded rifle on the stage if no one is thinking of firing it." 

In other words, if you introduce something (character, trait, setting) on the first page, or in the first act, it must carry through to the end.  This leads to more complex characters.  Watch the first twenty minutes or so of Little Miss Sunshine.  Note the character traits, the problems, the people that are mentioned.
  
In the first five seconds of the film you are introduced to the "theme," a term I hate, but nonetheless find use for.  Winners and losers.  The shot of the pageant on television.  There is a winner and a loser and then, a chubby, be-speckled, six-year old girl, mimicking, frame-by-frame, the postures of a winner.


This theme is pulled through the introduction of the rest of the family.  Richard, who is giving a seminar about winners, seems successful, until it's revealed there are five people at the seminar.  Frank, suicide, loser.  At the hospital, Sheryl reveals, in one line that she and Richard have money issues.  Grandpa snorts heroin in the bathroom.  The only one who seems to be relatively successful is Dwayne in his introduction.  He marks off days on a calendar, indicating some achievement of a goal.  


At the dinner table, all are assembled.  We hear the name of Stan Grossman, something about a book deal, a concern over money, the fact that Sheryl can't drive stick.  We see and hear Richard's emasculation.  We learn about Dwayne's desire to be a pilot, his vow of silence, detest for his stepfather.  We hear about Frank's heartbreak, anger and suicide attempt, and see his and Dwayne's bond in misery. We see Richard's stubbornness and insensitivity and attempt to exert control.  We get the idea that Sheryl is the glue of the family.  We hear the name of Larry Sugarman.  There are hints at Grandpa's trouble at the retirement home (presumably for what we just saw happen in the bathroom).  We understand his relationship with Olive, oh, and there's something about a pageant. 




All of these details, these "guns," thrown out on the table and wrapped inside this fierce and quiet familial tension.  This, in the first fifteen minutes of the film.  Are all of these things dealt with by the end?

I find that this is one of the most helpful things to remember and can come in handy when you are stuck at the ending.  Go back to the beginning.  Based on what you laid out, what needs to be present and/or change at the end?  Did you deal adequately with what was there in the first few scenes?  


Be sure you did, (or can make a decent argument for why you don't have to) or else.  You'll have to answer to that guy there in the picture, who will surely strangle that dog if you orphan your details.

Eight basic rules.

Kurt Vonnegut wrote some of the most unforgettable novels that blend satire, literary fiction and sci-fi in a relatable, humorous, and human way. These eight basic rules of creative writing are from the foreword to his short story collection Bagombo Snuff Box. 

1.  Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

2.  Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.

3.  Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.

4.  Every sentence [line of dialogue, bit of action] must do one of two things—reveal character or advance the action.

5.  Start as close to the end as possible.

6.  Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them—in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7.  Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.

8.  Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

The greatest American short story writer of my generation was Flannery O’Connor (1925-1964). She broke practically every one of my rules but the first. Great writers tend to do that.

While these are rules for short stories, they are really helpful to keep in mind for all storytelling.  I give these rules to my beginning screenwriting student on the first day of class.   Nos. 3, 5, and 6 are the most important to keep in mind, and are three things my students should measure their scripts and the scripts of their peers by.

Also, check out this:  15 Things Kurt Vonnegut Said Better Than Anyone Else Ever Has Or Will.  Great inspiration to use as prompts for freewriting.

Structure is your friend.

It is there to help you tell your story in the best way possible. Simply, structure is choosing what the audience knows and when they know it in order to maximize dramatic effect.  The question you need to always be asking is, “Does it work for my story?”

You can’t talk about structure without talking about plot.  Plot is the most important feature of story.  Something needs to happen.  Two friends sitting at a bar talking is boring, (and if I wanted to watch that, I’d go to the bar.)  These two friends can start out talking at the bar, but then what?  All stories must have a beginning, middle, and an end.  (Aristotle said that.)  All good stories have a conflict and a resolution, because audiences want something to happen and they want whatever happened to affect a change. 

Most screenplays are organized into a three-act structure.  It’s a tradition of storytelling that comes from theatre and is easily identifiable (and expected) by audiences. Audiences like to feel safe.  Structure is safety.  You want your story to be full of compelling surprises.  You want to make your audience think and figure things out.  They should not be confused by the way in which you present to story to them.  

You may be thinking, "To hell with convention.  I'm going to do things how I want to do them.  I'm original!"  Great, yes.  But be original with your story, characters, complexities of the character, not the frame you choose to tell it in.  It's like the frame of a house.  You should not build it with honey and sponges, it won't be sound.  Build a solid frame and then, add your honey and sponges, create your bizarre reality around this backbone that you can trust to stand up on its own. 

If the dependable structure is there supporting even the most complex, unreal plot, your audience will have a better chance to not only follow along, but to believe your story because they trust the way it's being presented. Even a films like Memento, and The Science of Sleep follows the structure.  Lost, with all it's subplots, flashbacks, physics, and time-traveling follows a structure in each episode and in the series as a whole.