A phrase to help you ratchet the tension another notch in minute 4 is: “If you thought that was bad . . .” If you thought that was bad, now Indiana Jones’s ally pulls a gun on him. If you thought that was bad, now Horatio turns pale and trembles with great fear in Hamlet.
Minute 5: The Jaw Dropper
You’ve ratcheted the tension the first four minutes, but now you need a twist to keep the audience off guard. The masters make the audience’s jaw drop during this minute. They do this by showing the characters something extraordinary or astonishing—something they’ve never seen before. It’s a subtle nuance that’s distinct from the previous four minutes. For example, in Hamlet, Horatio says the ghost looks just like the deceased King of Denmark—the dead father of his friend Hamlet! Truly a jaw-dropping experience for him.
In RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, a jaw-dropping number of black poisonous spiders crawl onto Indy and his friend’s backs! Spielberg uses the minute 5 Jaw Dropper again and again, like in JAWS when the shark yanks the naked female swimmer underneath the water and devours her—a jaw-dropping event in her life, to say the least.
Whether you’re a playwright, screenwriter, novelist, or graphic novelist, learn the rhythms of theater and film and apply them to your own stories. The beats have worked for 400 years, and will continue to work for centuries to come.
EXERCISE
1. Write a minute 1 “At-tension grabber” using each of the five methods mentioned above. Which one works best for your story?
2. Once you’ve decided which At-tension grabber to use during minute 1, build upon it by using the phrase “Not only does . . .”
3. Ratchet up your tension from the previous minute by using the phrase “Not only that, but now . . .”
4. Once you’ve ratcheted up your tension in minute 3, ratchet it another notch during this minute by using the phrase, “If you thought that was bad, now . . .”
Now that you’ve properly built the tension in the first four minutes, throw in a jaw-dropping twist to really keep your audience on its toes. What is something extraordinary or astonishing you can show your main character in minute 5? What is something they, or the audience, have never seen before?
SARA B. COOPER
Bump in the Night
SARA B. COOPER is an acupuncturist who turned TV writer when a client gave her spec script to the series producers of Star Trek: The Next Generation. In addition to creating the Cardassian race for the series, Cooper has written for shows such as The X-Files, Chicago Hope, Homicide, House, and Sanctuary.
In 2007, Eduardo B. Andrade and Joel B. Cohen published a paper called “On the Consumption of Negative Feelings.” The premise was that when individuals who choose to avoid fearful things were ”. . . embedded in a protective frame of mind, such that there was sufficient psychological disengagement or detachment, they experienced positive feelings while still experiencing fearfulness.” In other words, while snug in our homes or in groups at a movie theater, most people love a good scary story. And what is scarier than a good monster?
I was seven years old when I read my first monster story. In it, a vacuum machine was turned into a mechanical sound eater. If anything made noise, the machine would “suck out the sound,” rendering the noisemaker inert. Unfortunately, its inventor soon realized that when the sound vacuum encountered a living thing, it would suck the noise right out of it, leaving it dead. The last line of the story describes the protagonist, trapped in the house with her invention, hiding from it and suddenly being aware of the sound of her heart as she hears the vacuum’s wheels moving toward her. I didn’t sleep for months.
Why did this scare me? It was about a person who did something without thinking about the consequences and thereby created a situation she couldn’t control that was deadly. That fear rules my whole life: that I will do something without thinking it out, and it will have dire consequences. Anyone else have something like that? Yeah, I thought so.
There’s another fear I have—that something that I had nothing to do with comes in and takes control over my life. Again, I feel I’m not alone in this. Thankfully, I put my neuroses to work, as any writer does.
A good monster has to engender fear. The writer has to be aware of what scares them. Not just spiders or women with too much plastic surgery (although I suspect there’s a monster story there . . .), but those quiet fears that we may not even be aware of.
Jung wrote in “On the Psychology of the Unconscious,” “It is a frightening thought that man also has a shadow side to him, consisting not just of little weaknesses and foibles, but of a positively demonic dynamism. . . . Let these harmless creatures form a mass, and there emerges a raging monster.”
“It is a frightening thought”—there is our drama. Our normal, rational self’s fear of our inner demon. A cold, honest look at our darker selves takes courage and a willingness to let go of self-judgment. We must look for the demon within in order to create the monster without. Take a splash of whatever inner rage, anger, or just murderous impulses you can find inside; take an equal part of the fear that your inner demon will take control. Split them up between your monster and your protagonist. Then you have a story.
Secondly, we have to look at the manifestation of the monster—what is its form? I remember that first scary story. Many monsters and many more years later, I’m still struck by how the scariest things are often the most simple, familiar objects. It falls into my “What is scary?” list. Here are just some of my items:
The unfamiliar: This includes things that look and act differently than we do. Take the movie ALIEN, for example. The monster there looks, breeds, and communicates differently than we do. The irrational, the unexpected.
The unseen: For people who are sighted, most of their sense of reality comes from visual cues. To hear something without seeing it creates a profound sense of fear.
Being out of control: This includes having control taken from us because our monsters are stronger or have super powers, as well as being manipulated or tricked by someone or something.
Making a mistake that will cost lives: Building a creature that will kill others as in Frankenstein’s monster, getting a gremlin wet, or allowing cloned dinosaurs to get out of the compound.
The familiar gone wrong: Anything that defies the rules of our reality. A child’s toy that can suddenly talk and walk and has a murderous streak; a car that has a mind of its own; shadows that move on their own accord and can cause you to spontaneously combust if you touch them.
Lastly there has to be stakes. What’s in jeopardy? Death and loss are always good motivators. There are all forms of death and loss. You could lose your sanity. Your identity. It could be the loss of every other living soul. The loss of a loved one. Pick one or come up with your own form of living death.
To drive home the stakes, you’ve got to have a Redshirt. You Star Trek fans know what I’m talking about. For all you others, Wikipedia defines Redshirt as: “A stock character in fiction who dies soon after being introduced. The term originates with fans of Star Trek television series (1966–1969), from the red shirts worn by Starfleet security officers who frequently die during episodes. Redshirt deaths are often used to dramatize the potential peril that the main characters face.”
Also, don’t be afraid to “bleed your lead.” This really drives home the stakes.
EXERCISE
1. Take time to make a list of things that make you feel scared, anxious, unsettled. Find your fear.
2. Manifest it in some form.
a. Pick a familiar “safe” object or living thing in your home—a blender, your printer, a plant or animal, or a loved one. The more innocuous and seemingly safe, the better. We all know a knife is dangerous . . . but a hamster?
OR
b. Create something that falls outside of the rules of our normal reality. Avoid the well-used tropes of vampires, werewolves, zombies . . .
3. Pick the stakes/jeopardy.
4. Write a short story of how your protagonist first begins to realize something is wrong, tries to fight/escape, throw in a Redshirt or two, and let it finish so that the reader is left unsettled (i.e., the protagonist doesn’t win).
BEN THOMPSON
Diabolical Evil for Beginners
BEN THOMPSON is the author of the books Badass, Badass: The Birth of a Legend, and Badass: Ultimate Deathmatch (both published by HarperCollins). He has also written articles for Cracked, Fangoria, and Penthouse and was once selected “Seattle’s Sexiest Dungeon Master” by a local newspaper.
It’s no secret that we all have a soft spot for villains. From the most hardcore, cigar-chomping, Harley-riding gang enforcer to the puffy-cheeked Boy Scout leader who helps old ladies cross the street while earning their archery merit badges and tying slipknots, all of us have an inexplicable fascination with planet-destroying evil super-geniuses, chainsaw-wielding cannibal psychopaths, time-traveling alien Fascist space tanks, and whatever other soulless, diabolically malicious bastards seem to find their way into our fiction on a regular basis.
It’s not that we’re bad people. Sure, we might struggle with the occasional bout of crippling megalomania or an uncontrollable death rage against all humanity after a particularly gnarly day at the cubicle farm, but most of us simply aren’t going to react to a stack of annoying TPS reports by building an army of mutants and trying to conquer Mars. Call it apathy, call it a lack of ambition, or call it a marginally rational brain that possesses the ability to remind us that revenge probably isn’t worth having James Bond drop in through a skylight and shoot you in the head with a Walther PPK when you least expect it, but we just aren’t hardwired that way.
Villains, however . . . villains aren’t confined to our pitifully narrow definitions of morality and sanity. These hellacious bastards don’t have a problem taking everything just a single step too far, making sure the punishment is fifty times worse than the crime, and reacting to adverse living conditions by acquiring a couple dozen weapons of mass destruction and wreaking vengeance on everyone who ever wronged them. And, while you and I probably aren’t going to set off a dirty bomb in our boss’s office just because he asked us to come in on a Saturday, deep down we can kind of respect the fact that these villains would rather be stabbed in the eye with a samurai sword than let anyone push them around. We can almost get on board with it. Sure, we know this dude is a bad guy, and we still want our hero to punch his face in, but the good villains—the really good villains—are so cool you’re almost sorry to see them go. It’s what makes them some of the best characters in fiction. Here’s a method for making one memorable.
EXERCISE
1. Take a Guy. Villains aren’t born at the controls of solar system–devouring spaceships with legions of loyal followers ready to lay down their lives according to their leader’s whims. They all come from somewhere. Sure, maybe they’re smarter or stronger or more handsome than your typical citizen, but even the mighty Sauron started out as your average run-of-the-mill Elf before he was changed into a gigantic glowing eye that radiates pure unadulterated hatred. If you want your villains to be even a little bit relatable, the reader has to at least superficially understand where the dude is coming from. And that means starting at the bottom. Who is this guy? Where did he come from? What was his childhood like? His mother? What are his hopes and dreams? His fears? What sort of music does he listen to? What did he study in college? The reader shouldn’t be hearing stories about your diabolical villain eating apple pie in the kitchen of his idyllic boyhood home, but dropping subtle little hints about his backstory will humanize him and give a third dimension to his character.
2. Ruin His Life. Villains rarely grew up aspiring to evil. Victor von Doom didn’t wake up one morning and say, “Hey, I’m going to conquer the Eastern European country of Latveria, install myself as dictator, build an army of robotic clones, and then encase my body in a bulletproof metal suit that shoots lasers and lets me walk on the ocean floor.” Something terrible happened to force him to such desperate measures. Rather than give up and lay down, he responded by unleashing his insanity and turning himself into Doctor Doom.
You need to take your regular guy and push him too far. Maybe the scientific establishment doesn’t appreciate his ability to fabricate artificial human life out of orange goo and recycled animal parts. Maybe some jackass murdered his family and he’s a little sore about it. Maybe the hero surpassed him in a test of physical strength and rode off into the sunset with the girl, so now our guy is dealing with inadequacy issues because he knows he could intellectually run circles around that meathead. You can’t be too brutal—something made this guy strive for world domination, and whatever drives a guy to something like that probably has to be really, really bad. Cut his arms and legs off. Burn him with acid. Put him in a wheelchair. Have kids be really mean to him in school, slap the lunch tray out of his hands, then not pick him for kickball. Whatever it takes. Be ruthless . . . your villain sure will be.
3. Plot Vengeance. Now that you’ve got a desperate man or woman with a chip on his or her shoulder and nothing left to lose, it’s time for a sweet, delicious, organic, free-range dish of vengeance served cold (naturally) with toasted almonds and a fat scoop of guacamole. Whom does he hate? Why? How is he going to ruin them? What’s his ultimate goal in life, the end result of his evil machinations? Why is he doing this? What are the potential obstacles to his scheme, and how is he going to prepare for them? How far is he willing to go with this? Does he realize he’s the bad guy and just not care, or does he feel completely vindicated by the righteousness of his cause?
4. Pump Him Up. Once you’ve settled on your motive, it’s time to find the means. Usually this takes the form of a sizeable stack of cash money acquired through illicit means, but this isn’t always the case—sometimes it’s just a big machete and a hockey mask, or an ancient curse that allows him to absorb more physical punishment than the Terminator. Hannibal Lecter had his super intellect. Vader could choke people from across the room and carried a weapon that could cut steel like it was styrofoam. Godzilla had radioactive fallout mutate him into a city-stomping reptilian monstrosity. The Shredder used dark magic and a lifetime of martial arts training to fight the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Your guy needs a weapon, be it a wallet, a brain, or an assault rifle, and the opportunity to use it. What are your villain’s powers? How did he get them? What are their limits, and what are their shortcomings? Does he show them off or keep them hidden? When it’s time for combat, what does he fight with?
5. Give Him Some Henchmen. No matter how smooth and intelligent he is, Hans Gruber isn’t going to take over the Nakatomi Tower by himself—he needs an army of well-equipped East German terrorists to do his dirty work while he kicks back and looks menacing. Evil geniuses don’t make their own PB&J; they surround themselves with associates who make up for their own shortcomings while simultaneously providing our hero an endless stream of faceless jobbers to cleave through on his way to rescuing the girl. Dr. Frankenstein is smart, but he needs an Igor to fetch him brains. Sauron is omnipotent, but he’s just a floating eye and isn’t going to get much done without breeding some Orcs. Skeletor has magical powers and the body of a beefy-armed bodybuilder, but he’s got monster men who run around to do his dirty work for him so he doesn’t have to. Find out where your villain is weak; then give him henchmen to fill in the cracks. Does he ride a talking bear or just drive a car like a normal human being? Does he have an army of Cyborg minions, a fleet of mercenary employees, or just one single guy with a broadsword who shows up at really inopportune times?
Why do these people follow him, and where do they come from? How does he provide for them? How does he inspire their loyalty? How far are they willing to go for him? How much of a threat do they pose to the hero? Does he even need henchmen at all, or is your villain a one-man wrecking crew? If he’s a lone wolf, how doe
s he swing that?
6. Make Him Good Arch-Nemesis Material. You want to make as many parallels between your hero and your villain as you possibly can. These guys are in the same boat—the hero just did the right thing, and the villain went completely out of his gourd and plummeted off the deep end of sanity. Luke Skywalker could have easily been Darth Vader if he’d just made a couple of terrible life decisions. Moriarty is just Sherlock Holmes if he used his powers for evil. Even Ahab and Moby-Dick have something in common—a ruthless desire to kill each other. Draw parallels where you can, shoehorn them in where it fits, and do it without making it too cheesy and contrived. Every little detail matters.
7. Give Him a Fatal Flaw. So now you’ve got a bad mother with a single-minded need to avenge himself on the world, the means to do it, and the opportunity to exact his cruel justice on all who wronged him. How is he going to be stopped? Is he a little too powerful?
Luckily for human existence, most villains have one fatal flaw that eventually causes their downfall. Usually it’s hubris, which is a fancy term for extreme overconfidence. These guys know they’ve got the upper hand, and the moment they snatch it, they start talking all crazy and giving up their evil plans and letting the hero get out from underneath their heels rather than simply crushing their throat. They lose at the moment of their greatest victory.
Your villain doesn’t need to give in to hubris, but if you want your good guys to emerge victorious, you’ll need there to be some weakness they can exploit. It could be a henchman of questionable loyalty. It could be a piece of crucial information the hero has that the villain doesn’t know about. It could be a crippling jealousy you can play on to get the bad guy to drop his guard. There needs to be something for the hero to take advantage of, and you need to lay it out there early and often.
Congrats! You’re off and running with a delightfully evil character. Good luck on the world domination thing. Just remember that you can never make your villain too evil, too ruthless, or too cunning. Don’t pull any punches, because to be perfectly honest, if your story sucks, nine times out of ten it’s because your villain sucks.
Now Write! Page 12