by Will Dunne
3. Emotions. As we process information through our senses, a wide range of feelings may be triggered. For us in the audience, the double portrait of Ian and Cate might stir up an emotional response of dread. The portrait of Cate bouncing on the bed might trigger a fleeting moment of joy. The taste of Ian's kiss might produce a feeling of disgust. Look at each of your three most important sense experiences from an observer's point of view. For each one, identify an emotional response.
WRAP-UP
By creating sense experiences and evoking sense memories, you can bring us into the world of your story in a specific, immediate, and visceral way. Think about the sensory information you have discovered so far and the types of conclusions, questions, and emotions that it triggers. How might you translate these discoveries into dramatic action for your scene? What new character and story ideas do they suggest?
THE QUICK VERSION
Use nonverbal sound to explore character and story ideas
BEST TIME FOR THIS
During scene planning, writing, or revision
A SOUND IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS
While most dramatic writers are aware of the impact that music can add to a scene, and sometimes write specific music requests into their scripts, many overlook the power of other nonverbal sounds. Whether live or prerecorded, nonverbal sounds can be as important to a scene as any other dramatic element. These "sound effects" are born in the stage directions and, when composed effectively, can not only help set the scene and create a mood, but also add visceral force to story events. Many classic moments in theater owe part of their legacy to a sound effect:
• In A Doll's House by Henrik Ibsen, the echoing slam of the door as Nora walks out of her house and her marriage
• In The Cherry Orchard by Anton Chekhov, the mournful twang, like the breaking of a harp string, that leads to stillness and then the strokes of an ax far away in the doomed orchard
• In the blackout that ends Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck, the gunshot that signals George's mercy killing of Lennie at the river bank
These are three examples of how sound adds dramatic punch to a story's end, but this is not to imply that sound matters only in final moments. Throughout the dramatic action of The Caretaker by Harold Pinter, for example, we hear the sound of water dripping from the ceiling into a bucket hanging overhead. In a world where no one is able to achieve anything of importance, the drip is an ever-present reminder of the failure and trouble that looms over the heads of the characters.
In True West by Sam Shepard, the duel of two brothers is launched with the gentle chirping of crickets and accented later by the yapping of coyotes gathering beyond the walls of the house. The stage directions describe the coyote sounds this way: "This yapping grows more intense and maniacal as the pack grows in numbers, which is usually the case when they lure and kill pets from suburban yards."
The sound of a man urinating into a toilet is an important and recurring story element of Audience by Vaclav Havel. A political satire set in a Czech brewery, the play explores class struggle as a lowly and oppressed brewery worker meets with his boss. The boss is a fat cat who drinks beer all day at his desk and has to keep leaving the meeting to relieve himself offstage. During each exit, the only dramatic action on stage is the sound of passing water which grows louder and longer as the boss gets drunker and literally pisses away the profits of the workers.
Nonverbal sound comes in many forms and can be used by dramatic writers in many ways. Ideally, if a sound effect is specified in the stage directions, it is not an arbitrary enhancement, but rather a judiciously chosen building block of the scene. Like each line of dialogue, each sound effect is an essential part of the action.
Nonverbal sound can be a powerful tool for dramatic storytelling, but use it sparingly. Too many sound effects can steal focus away from the story and slow the action.
ABOUT THE EXERCISE
Imagine that each of the settings in your story, like each of your characters, has a unique voice. This "voice of the setting" includes everything we hear beyond the spoken dialogue of the characters and beyond any music that might be added externally as a background to the scenic action. The voice of the setting may be urban or rural, loud or quiet, friendly or unfriendly. It may have an influence on the characters that is big or small, positive or negative. It is a dynamic force affected by whoever and whatever is present as well as the time of day, the time of year, and any other circumstances at work in the world of the story. If we have visited this setting in an earlier scene, its voice now may be significantly different.
What is the voice of the setting for the scene you are developing now? Use this exercise to explore this voice and how it might contribute to the dramatic action. To do the exercise, you need to know exactly where and when the scene takes place and have at least a rough idea of what happens. As you imagine sounds from a variety of angles, feel free to repeat responses. The goal is not to list as many sounds as possible, but rather to find the sounds with the greatest dramatic value.
THE UNIQUE SOUNDS OF THIS SETTING
Think about the where and when of your scene. Begin to imagine different sounds that one might conceivably hear in this particular place at this particular time. Whether the setting is interior or exterior, its voice may include a number of sounds made not only in this place but also all around it and in the distance. These sounds may come from weather, environment, liv ing creatures large and small, other elements of nature, people, places, and things of all kinds as well as from the unknown. As you explore different sound categories, remember that they are not mutually exclusive and that it's okay to choose the same sound more than once-even several times-if that feels right.
I. First impressions are often the strongest. What is the first interesting sound you hear as you imagine yourself in this setting at this time?
2. Like the ringing of a telephone or cackling of chickens, some sounds are realistic and recognizable. Identify a few recognizable sounds that you could conceivably hear in this setting at this time.
3. Other sounds, such as an electronic ripple or eerie thump, may be abstract or mysterious. Imagine hearing at least one such sound in this setting at this time and briefly describe what you hear.
4. Whether it comes from near or far, some sound may be continuous and contribute to a setting's ambience-for example, the drumming of rain or the sound of children playing in the distance. If the voice of your setting were to include an ongoing sound, what would it be?
5. Other nonverbal sounds may be sudden and isolated, such as the crash of breaking dishes or the shrieking and flapping of startled birds. What is a sudden, isolated sound that you might hear in this setting at this time?
6. Like the wail of a fire engine siren or the explosion of a firecracker, some sounds may be most striking because of their volume. What is a loud sound that you might hear in this setting at this time?
7. Other sounds, like the tinkle of wind chimes or the moan of a distant foghorn, may be soft. What is a quiet sound that could conceivably be heard in this setting at this time? (It may be quiet only because it's from far away.)
8. Like the applause of an audience or the soothing rush of a waterfall, some sounds may be pleasant. Interpret "pleasant" any way you wish and identify a pleasant sound that could conceivably be heard in this setting at this time.
9. Other sounds, like the grinding of a dentist's drill or the screech of an alley cat, may be unpleasant. Interpret "unpleasant" as you wish and identify an unpleasant sound that could conceivably be heard in this setting at this time.
io. Some sounds, like the ring of a doorbell or the rattle of a rattlesnake, are calls to action. They demand a response of some kind. Among the sounds that might be heard in this setting at this time, what is a soundpositive or negative-that would require someone to do something?
THE DRAMATIC POTENTIAL OF THIS SETTINGS VOICE
Think about what you've heard so far in your setting. Use the following steps to
see if any of these nonverbal sounds can help you set the scene, create a certain mood, or dramatize the story. For example, nonverbal sound may help you do any of the following:
I. Establish location. Sound can help identify the setting for a scene quickly and easily, and can be an especially useful tool on stage if the story occurs in so many different locations that realistic set changes are not feasible. For example, the sounds of lapping waves and squawking gulls immediately put us at a seaside, even though we never actually see water or a shore. Consider how easily certain locales-such as an airport, bowling alley, or gymnasium-can be evoked by the right sound clues. Think about where your scene takes place. If you were to use a sound to establish this location, what sound would it be?
2. Establish time. Sound also can help define the time or circumstance of a scene, just the crow of a rooster announces that it's dawn, the blast of a factory whistle signals that the workday has ended, or the ringing of church bells suggests that it's Sunday morning. Is there a sound that could help establish when your scene takes place? If so, what sound would it be?
3. Create mood. Just as the ticking of a clock or pounding at a door may heighten a scene's tension, or the warbling of a songbird or gurgling of a brook may add to its peacefulness, sound can contribute much to a scene's atmosphere. Think about the emotional feel of your scene. Is there a sound that could help create the right mood? If so, what sound would it be?
One the loudest sounds in drama is utter silence, such as that which precedes the wife's confession of infidelity to her waiting husband in Betrayal by Harold Pinter. The emotional weight of the silence makes the confession one of the most dramatic moments in the play.
4. Make something happen. Sound often helps transcend the physical and financial limitations of a production by making it possible to stage just about anything, such as a major battle at sea in Antony and Cleopatra by William Shakespeare, or rioting on the streets of Watts in Ttuilight: Los Angeles, 1992 by Anna Deavere Smith. Because sound has the power to evoke images, it can work magic on stage, just as the rise and sputtering halt of an engine sound can make a car pull up outside, or the sounds of drums, bugles, and marching feet can make a parade pass by. Through sound effects, lions and tigers can be prowling outside the tent, picture windows can be shattered, and a witch's cauldron brought to a boil-all without animals, glass, or fire. In your scene, is there any sound that could help create an important story element that would otherwise be impractical or impossible to stage?
5. Create metaphor. Like words in a poem, nonverbal sounds can create metaphors that help reveal character or add meaning to the story action. In one of the garden scenes in Doubt by John Patrick Shanley, the principal of a Catholic elementary school learns that the new priest on the faculty may be having an inappropriate relationship with a student. The scene ends with the "sound of wind" ushering in a storm: a metaphor for the emotional tempest that the principal will unleash when she confronts the priest. Think about what happens in your scene. Is there a sound that could work on a metaphorical level as well as a realistic one? If so, what sound and what metaphor would it be?
6. Reduce the need for exposition. Sound offers opportunities to show, not tell, the story. If we hear the rumbling of thunder, for example, we do not need to be told that a storm is coming. If we hear the firing of a pistol and sudden cheering of a crowd, no one needs to explain that the race has begun. Think about what happens in your scene. Is there a sound that could replace an explanation? If so, what sound and what explanation would it be?
WRAP-UP
Keep exploring the power of sound as you make character and story choices, and use the best of what you find to write or edit your scene. Since you are developing a dramatic script and not a sound design, be selective with the effects that you include in the final stage directions. Focus on those nonverbal sounds that go beyond clever enhancements to become integral units of the dramatic action.
THE QUICK VERSION
Do a beat analysis of a scene
BEST TIME FOR THIS
When editing a completed scene
THE BEAT: A BASIC BUILDING BLOCK OF A SCENE
Just as a full-length dramatic story is made up of acts, and each act is made up of scenes, each scene is made up of beats. Beats are simply the smallest units of dramatic action. They may come in different sizes and have different functions, but most have a similar structure which mirrors the structure of both the scene and the story.
To write a dramatic story is to think not in lines of dialogue but in beats of action. Each beat is about one thing: a certain topic or activity. Once a beat is introduced, it must be developed to its natural conclusion before a new beat begins. However, there are no rules to dictate what a certain beat's natural conclusion should be or how long it should take to reach it. In some cases, the natural conclusion may even be the lack of a conclusion: an interruption that leaves the matter at hand unresolved. Ideally, you will find, shape, and end each beat instinctively as you focus on your unique characters and the larger scenic elements-such as objective, conflict, and motivation-which the beat will serve.
Though fundamental to the development of dramatic stories, the beat is a concept that many dramatic writers either never learn or too often forget. In the end, scene problems often boil down to beat problems. If a scene is difficult to follow on an emotional level, for example, some beats may be underdeveloped. If a scene feels static, some beats may be overdeveloped.
Thinking in beats is a subjective process that tends to work best when it is also a subconscious process guiding writing decisions. At some point, however, such as revision, you may learn something new about a scene by focusing on a beat analysis of the dramatic action. This analysis can help you not only to evaluate your work, but also to strengthen your deeper understanding of beats as the essential building blocks of a dramatic story.
ABOUT THE EXERCISE
Use this exercise to review the concept of beats and to do a detailed beat analysis of an important or difficult scene that you wish to revise.
THREE TYPES OF BEATS
As you break down your script, you may find any of these three basic types of beats:
I. Behavioral. The beat is driven by a character's desire to affect another character in some way-for example, to make the other character feel good, to make the other character feel bad, to convince the other character of something, or to find out something. This is, by far, the most common type of beat. The next part of this exercise features a sample behavioral beat from Hamlet.
2. Physical. The beat is driven by a character's need to complete a specific physical task. This type of beat often unfolds without dialogue and is more common on screen than on stage. Samuel Beckett's play Endgame begins with a physical beat in which Clov prepares the sheet-covered room for a new day.
3. Inner-life. The beat centers on a character's thoughts, feelings, or memories, and unfolds as an interior monologue. This monologue may be driven by a self objective-such as an inner need to figure something out-or by sheer imagery-such as a poetic description that brings a past experience back to life. In Long Day's Journey into Night, for example, Edmund's memory of his life at sea is an inner-life beat driven by imagery.
A SAMPLE BEAT AND HOW IT'S STRUCTURED
The following example is from the first scene of Shakespeare's classic play Hamlet and illustrates principles common in dramatic stories today. The opening beats of the scene have established that, at this particular time of night for the past two nights, soldiers standing guard here at the castle have seen a ghost. Horatio has heard about the ghost but doesn't believe it exists. Marcellus has brought him here to prove otherwise.
Enter Ghost.
MARCELLUS. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!
BERNARDO. In the same figure, like the king that's dead!
MARCELLUS. Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.
BERNARDO. Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.
HORATIO.
Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.
BERNARDO. It would be spoke to.
HORATIO. What art thou that usurp'st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form In which the majesty of buried Denmark Did sometimes march? by heaven, I charge thee, speak!
MARCELLUS. It is offended.
HORATIO. Stay! Speak, speak! I charge thee, speak! Exit Ghost.
MARCELLUS. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.
This is a behavioral beat about one thing: the appearance of a ghost. From a broader technical angle, this beat lays the groundwork for the problem of the play-something is rotten in Denmark-and raises questions that draw us into the story. Has the king really returned from the dead? And, if so, why? This beat also establishes an important "rule of the game": this is a world where ghosts can appear. A closer look at this single unit of action reveals that it has a typical beat structure which includes the following elements:
i. Stimulus. Something sets a beat into motion. The most common stimulus for a new beat is a previous beat in the scene, so that this beat is the direct result of that beat. In some cases, however, it is inner lifea character need, emotion, idea, or memory-that sparks a new topic or activity. Sometimes the stimulus for a new beat is something that happens by chance-for example, someone new enters the scene and changes the subject. The stimulus for the sample beat from Hamlet is the entrance of the ghost.
2. Action. Once the beat is set into motion, the basic principles of dramatic action drive it forward. In other words, someone wants something (objective) that is difficult to achieve (obstacle), but has a reason for trying to achieve it anyway (motivation). As with the larger units of scene and story, these dynamics work together to make the conflict slowly rise, though the "event" taking place, at the beat level, may be a relatively small one. All of this implies that a beat has a "main character": someone who makes the beat happen. If the main character of the beat is also the main character of the scene, the beat is often one step of an attempt to achieve the scenic objective.