BUILDING UP THE PLOT

BUILDING UP THE PLOT

this article is rambling and needs to be modernized.

NOT all persons can think up plots, but more persons can think plots than can think good plots and more persons can think good plots than can take these plots and, through arrange- ment, lift them to the highest level of excellence; yet the best pos- sible development of a given plot is the objective of the author, and the quality of this development marks the difference between the 'prentice and the master. Developing the plot means something more than merely adding plot factors to the original theme. That will build up the plot, but something more than this is needed. Development is, first, the recog- nition of the most available features in a plot suggestion and, secondly, the presentation of these features in the form that will make the strongest and most positive appeal. Shakspeare had this appreciation of plot values in its nicest sense and, even granting that he had the advantage of seeing them first, his art took much from obscure sources and raised the themes to undying fame. Comparatively few persons have read the "His- tories of the Kings of Britain." In that quaint old book Lear is not made more conspicuous than Vortiger and far less conspicuous than others, but Shakspeare was quick to perceive the value of the theme of the thankless daughters and he lifted this from its obscuring his- torical facts and gave us a story that is regarded as one of his best. He made the theme so much his own that now a story based on this is regarded as a steal from the poet and not from the historian. If the volume is accessible in your public library it will make an interesting study in plot suggestion if you will first read the original and then the play and realize the skill with which a genius saw the human side of the historical record. Shakspeare wrote few, if any, original plots, but he immortalized many obscure sources through his genius for plot recognition and de- velopment. It was this that made his fame as much as his elegance of diction and the depth of his philosophy. He had the faculty of seeing the best that was in an old plot and the best possible devel- opment for that part of the story he wished to reconstruct. As it was in his day so it is now ; the man who makes the most of what he has does better than the man who has more and yet who makes small use of it. The really great author is the man who can make his plots vivid and appealing, not he who gets good ideas and then spoils them through slovenly or incompetent handling. Too often the student, having evolved a plot, rushes it into some sort of shape and submits it to a studio before the ink is fairly dry upon the paper. Then he starts work on another and another ; never taking time to study development, until failure to sell these early efforts brings discouragement and the abandonment of the work. It is safe to say that many who have taken up photoplay writing only to drop it again as worthless might have found success had they only grounded themselves in their work and had written stuff worth buying before they undertook to make sales. The men and women who would make a success of photoplay writing must first ground themselves in plotting until plotting becomes a fixed habit and then work on plot development until it becomes second nature. Without this preliminary work there can be no permanent success. There may be some sales to some studios for a time, because there must be some plots evolved that will possess sufficient merit to warrant purchase, but such sales will be no indication of accomplishment. They will be merely the accidents of chance. More than this, it has happened not infrequently that a studio, liking some story, has asked for more from the same author along the same lines. It is a splendid opening and the author's utter inability to respond with more stories of the sort desired will stamp him an accident and utterly destroy his chances now and in the future with that studio. No Editor will bother with a man who cannot offer a certain percentage of available scripts. It may seem trying and even senseless to write innumerable stories and not try to sell them, but sales should mean something more than an immediate check. They should mean recognition from the studios, and if the recipient is unable to repeat he will be discarded in favor of the man who can write a good story next week as well as this and last week. A fewt stories may be sold through wide and indiscriminate marketing and a few small checks may be gained, but a golden opportunity may be lost through trying to sell before development is mastered. The thoroughly trained author develops his plots almost unconsciously, not because he is gifted above others, but because he has developed so many other plots, presenting such a variety of combinations, that he has come to know instinctively the lines along which it will be best to develop any given type of story. He will not accept the first development that comes to him unless, after experiment with other methods, he is convinced that this is the best, but in a general way he will know what will be the best development, and examination of this will not only verify or upset his belief, but it may also bring suggestions that will be discarded from this plot yet form the basis of other plots. Development of the plot may be divided into two classes, the expansion of the main theme and the invention of sub-plot or complication. In photoplay; particularly in the shorter lengths, it is best not to have much if any sub-plot because this either involves the excessive use of printed leader or a loss of clearness. In a novel there may be one or more sub-plots running parallel to the main story and coming to a common point at or near the climax as the tracks in a railroad yard all converge on the main line•at the limits of the area. In novel writing this is possible because first one and then another of these complications may be taken up at will without regard for chronologi- cal order. But in photoplay this is not possible since events must either be related at the time of their occurrence or visioned in. It is not possible to run along on one action for a time and then turn back and bring another' action up to date. This would retard the theme and break the continuity. Since sub-plot is hurtful, it becomes necessary to build up the main plot with action and action that is ger- mane to the plot as was shown in the preceding chapter where the use of a physician provides for dramatic situation without adding a com- plication. At the start it will be nece.ma ry to work almost wholly on paper, but it should be the effort of the author to train himself to do the first plotting mentally since the omission of a plot factor may entail so much recopying that the author will leave out what might help the story greatly. To overcome this difficulty, many writers use slips of paper and write only one factor to a slip, which enables them to add, to take away, or to change without adding to the physical labor of writing. But the mental development is more flexible still since it permits an almost automatic rearrangement of incident through the addition of a factor. If the student will start with slight themes at first—as he should in any event—he will presently find it easier to do the work mentally than on paper, though it is generally necessary be- fore developing the action plot to lay out a sketch or diagram on paper. Take that part of the plot that has suggested itself to you and examine it closely. Perhaps it is the start or the climax of the story or you have a start and climax but are hazy as to the middle action. Suppose that it is the commonplace theme of a woman whose hus- band is too engrossed in business to give her the attention she de- mands. She seeks this attention from society and eventually nar- rows her demand to another man. Almost at the point of peril, she is saved from herself. This is all you have of the story; merely the skeleton of the plot. You cannot even call it a complete skeleton, and your first work is to build to completeness the skeleton that you may clothe it with the tissues of action. You have taken a survey of the plot field and you know that the favorite development is an elope- ment planned but frustrated by the cry of the woman's child, the sud- den illness or injury to the husband or the like happening to the man who has planned the elopement. 12. If you lack invention you will probably follow the lines of least resistance and do what has bees done before. You will write the story thus, but you will not sell it, since no man but the coal dealer purchases coal after his cellar is full, and all makers of film are plen- tifully supplied with negatives showing various developments of this theme and are unlikely to add to their store. You must get some new departure. Perhaps the wife turns to business instead of to society. This has not been done so much. At once you open a new vista. She may become such a success that she scorns her husband. She may leave him or she may seek to build up the business until her operations have not only jeopardized her own venture but threaten her husband's success when he, with cool business head, steps in, extricates her from her predicament and she is glad to let him reassume the reins of management. An objection to this would be that this is a business story and that business stories seldom offer much that is dramatic. This particular story would require an elaborate explanation of the fortunes of the business and would be more a commercial report than a series of interesting scenes. It might give a better effect to have her go upon the stage. She wins success and is deaf to her husband's arguments, but in the end realizes that success is hollow without love and abandons her career to become a wife again. She might, as so many other photoplay heroines have done, seek diversion in gambling, becoming involved in financial difficulties from which the villain seeks to save her but from which she is rescued by her husband at an opportune moment. Whatever your choice, remember that there must be considered first the narrative and then the picture value. It must be interesting as a story and it must be told in action that is in itself interesting and attractive. Figure out all your points and then make a test scenario, but please understand that by scenario is meant not a motion picture play as a whole. Photoplay draws its nomenclature from the stage, the photograph gallery and the author's workroom. Scenario is a term once used to designate a photoplay in its completeness, but a play is something more than that, and the term in this connection is passing from use. Scenario is a sketch of the action of a story or play. It is merely a full synopsis. It is best in the first draft to make a slight scenario, listing little more than the plot factors. 15. Suppose that we recall the familiar nursery rhyme of Mary and her lamb. It occurs to us that this can be done into allegory and so into a play. A scena;io of the originalverse would give: Mary owns a pet lamb. The lamb is devoted to Mary and follows her everywhere. One day it follows her into the schoolroom. The appearance of the lamb creates such a disturbance that the teacher puts it out. Undiscouraged, the lamb waits outside for Mary until school is dismissed and once more they are united. This, translated into other terms, would read that Ben and Mary are sweethearts. Ben is devoted to Mary, but she, used to his devotion, holds it lightly in esteem. Mary tires of the country and wants to go to the city. Ben, to guard her, follows her. Mary soon finds employment and prospers, but Ben is essentially of the country and cannot adapt himself to city ways. He is forced to return home. There he waits in the hope that Mary will return to him. Eventually she does. 16. This is the same story done into different words to qualify it as a plot. It is not ample enough. There is the suggestion of struggle and some slight suspense and the plot-question of Ben's desire for Mary is clearly stated, but there is a lack of original plot complica- tion. In the story in the last chapter it was seen that the introduc- tion of the physician as a former rival of the husband gave plot com- plication. In the same way we must get complication here. There the Villain or antagonist was not the physician but the addiction of the man to drink which was the bar to the happiness of the wife. Here we lack the villain, and hence there is lacking one element of plot. We put in a villain. In the original story the teacher was the villain. Suppose that we get a little melodramatic and call the Junior Partner of the concern for which Mary works the villain. If we do this we need to make the story a trifle more compact. We need to bring Ben, our protagonist; the Junior, the antagonist, and Mary, the object, into closer relationship. We do this by changing the story so that Ben gets a position with the firm employing Mary. Ben is much in the way of the Junior, and so he is dismissed. Later Mary is per- suaded to give him up and so he returns home to wait. This would give us a scenario more like this: 17. Mary and Ben are sweethearts. Mary does not appreciate Ben's devotion. She craves the excitement of city life and goes there to earn her living. Ben follows to protect her. They gain positions with the same concern, Mary in the office and Ben in the shipping room. The Junior Partner is attracted to Mary. He finds Ben in the way. He invents a pretext for dismissing Ben. He persuades Mary to give him up. Disconsolate, Ben returns home. Left to herself, Mary trusts to the Junior Partner. There is a secret marriage. One day Mary finds that the marriage was fictitious and that the Junior Partner is already married. Broken-hearted, she returns home and finds the faithful Ben still waiting for her. They are married. 18. This is better, but it is not enough. There is not yet sufficient complication to hold interest. It is still too simple and obvious. It works along the lines of least resistance. There is struggle but very little suspense, and there is a lack of crises of marked quality. Sup- pose we remember that the lamb might have helped along the orig- inal verse by following some tardy pupil into the school room again. In the same way we can bring Ben back to the city. This will have two results. It will give more action and show him in a better light since he no longer calmly accepts his dismissal. He is a fighter and we love a fighter. We might get this development: 19. Left to herself Mary trusts to the Junior Partner. To win her confidence he causes her rapid advancement. Partly through jealousy and partly through more kindly motive, some girl in the office writes Ben. Ben returns to the city. He makes a scene in the office, taxing Mary with loose conduct and trying to kill the Junior Partner. The Junior Partner declares his intention of marrying Mary. Ben can say nothing to this. He again returns home. The remainder would run as before. This is better, because there is more and more spirited action, but it is by no means enough. Change that factor that recites that the girl writes Ben. Make it purely a matter of malice. Then show that Mary, ashamed to return home, seeks other employment. Shame and grief bear her down. She sinks in health and spirit and is no longer able to work. Found starving in her room, she is taken to the hospital. The papers mention the fact in a line. The same girl who wrote before, now with kindly motive, again warns Ben. He comes and takes Mary home, where she recovers her strength and spirits and becomes Ben's wife. Now the change in the motives behind the girl's first letter gives a little touch to the story, but the greater gain has been in straight narrative and plot development. Here there is the suspense that arises from the question as to how Mary will fare or how Ben will learn of her troubles. In our previous outworkings we have always had her go straight home to Ben, the obvious and easiest way out of her troubles. Now she fears to face him and by staying away raises a far more important question of suspense than had she merely returned to Ben to see if he would have her. But all thiough this we show Ben, who is a decent sort of chap, in a poor light. Always he is staying home waiting for events to shape themselves. We have more admiration for a hero who goes out to shape events for himself. Suppose that we go back and try and put Ben in a better light. We can do it something like this: 22. Ben and Mary get employment in the same factory. Mary attracts the attention of the Junior Partner. His notice flatters her. Ben notices this and remonstrates. They quarrel. Ben argues with the Junior Partner. He is laughed at. That evening he finds the Junior Partner taking Mary to a dance hall of unsavory reputation. He follows them. During the evening the Junior Partner seeks to take advantage of Mary's helplessness. Ben interferes. There is a fight. The proprietor of the place has Ben arrested. The Junior Partner uses his influence to have Ben sentenced to prison. Ben returns but Mary will have nothing to do with him. To her he is a convict, a belief engendered by the girls in the office and the Junior Partner. Broken hearted, Ben goes home. 23. We will reconstruct the entire scenario and compare it with the original. It should show improvement in heightened dramatic value and pictorial quality. 24. Ben and Mary are sweethearts. Mary is too used to Ben's devotion to value it. Craving excitement, she seeks to earn her living in the city. Ben follows to protect her. They obtain employment from the same firm, Ben in the ship- ping room and Mary in the office. Mary attracts the attention of the Junior Partner. His notice flatters her. Ben sees and resents the growing familiarity. He remonstrates with Mary. They quarrel. Ben argues with the junior Partner. He is laughed at. That evening the junior Partner takes Mary to an unsavory dance hall. Ben follows them. The Junior Partner seeks to take advantage of Mary's helpless- ness. He grows familiar. Ben interferes. There is a fight. The proprietor has Ben arrested.. Using his influence, the junior Partner has Ben sent to prison. On his release Mary refuses to have anything to do with him. She has been badgered by the girls in the office and worked on by the junior Partner. She calls Ben a convict and dis- misses him. Broken-hearted Ben returns home. To gain her confidence the junior Partner rapidly advances Mary. Later one of the girls in the office, jealous of this advancement, writes Ben a.malicious letter of warning. Ben returns to the city. There is a scene in the office in which he denounces Mary for loose conduct and attacks the jun- ior Partner. The junior Partner declares his intention of marrying Mary. To this Ben is unable to respond. Once more he returns home defeated. The Junior Partner urges Mary to consent to a secret marriage. Later she finds that the marriage was not legal. She leaves the junior Partner. Too proud to return home, she seeks to support herself. Grief and shame soon make it impossible for her to retain steady employment. She obtains underpaid work to be done at home. Soon she is unable to do even this. She grows weaker. Found starving in her room she is taken to the hospital. Again the girl writes Ben. This time with kindly motive. She sends a newspaper clipping. Ben comes a third time to the city. He thrashes the Junior Partner. He takes Mary home with him. She regains her health and happiness and marries him. 25. The scenario is the schedule of happenings, but it must be dressed up. It has been repeatedly stated that literary style is not 'required in writing photoplays. This is true. The most fluently written script would be worthless if it did not tell a story, but there is a style in photoplay, though as yet not one person in a thousand realizes it. As the matter stands producers are but dimly realizing that they can get more help from the author than the bare plot. They do not want to realize it, for this makes them less vitally necessary to the studio than they were when the director was the sole arbiter and made a script well or badly as he chose. Style in photoplay is not the literary grace with which your explanations are phrased. It is the completeness with which you convey to the director the little touches that give individuality to the expression of your story. Bannister Merwin, present Editor of the London Film Company, but once the star writer for the Edison company, puts the matter rather radically when he writes in a recent letter, covering the sample pages reproduced in the appendix, as Examples K. 26. Perhaps you will note that I try to put the emphasis on the psychology of each situation. It seldom seems to me to be necessary to get down to the exact details of the physical "business"—unless such details are essential in making the action clear. In other words, I believe in leaving the actor (wherever possible) free as to his method of expressing the situation. But it does seem to me to be absolutely essential that the actor and the producer should be shown what must be expressed. I am of the opinion that plot is the least important part of a photoplay. As I see it, the proper, way of writing a photoplay is to get, first, a general theme, and then develop your characters. Live with these characters until you know them like old friends. Then let your characters develop your theme for you. As an artist in technique, of course, one must see to it that the characters develop the theme in an interesting and convincing way. Only by this method is it possible to escape from the "groove" stuff which so many companies are now inflicting on a wearied world. And, for that matter, it is the method one follows in writing worth-while fiction and stage plays. Given an understanding of the picture technique, why shouldn't a writer dig flown into life by the same method that he would employ in writing a, stage play or a novel? 27. We are by no means in agreement with Mr. Merwin asto the lesser value of plot. This we believe to be the first and most vital necessity, but there is an equal necessity that the plot should be told as a page from life and not as a puppet show. You can either give the psychology in business as will be shown in Chapter XXXIII or you can give the psychology as Mr. Merwin does and leave the action to the player and director. Either method will do, but the great point is to give the actor and his director a clear and exact idea of what you are trying to show in action. You write action, but you must either write action that shows the thought behind it or write the thought and let the actor invent the action. The main point is to preserve an in- dividuality. Charles Dickens and Rudyard Kipling are great authors, but did Mr. Kipling write like Dickens he would be no more than a copyist. Not one released photoplay in a thousand has individuality, and yet individuality of thought and treatment alike are what will save photoplay exhibition from extinction. It may do you little good at present to strive for individuality in that the director and cutting Man will rob your script of its individu- ality, but the time is coming when this quality will be demanded. Cultivate the quality now and you will be ahead of the others. Mr. Merwin will always be ahead because he was the first to place this in- sistence on psychology of the right sort. In this he antedates even Louis Reeves Harrison, who also was writing literature for the screen when the rest of us were writing perfunctory action. Getting back to Mary and Ben, it may be necessary to write a full synopsis until you are used to scenes. Here the loose-leaf scheme outlined in Paragraph 10 will come in handy. Your brief scenario gives you the points in their proper order. Now get the scenes from these points in their proper order and you will have a working sce- nario. Your first fact is that Ben and Mary are sweethearts. This can be shown in. any pretty location. Here, too, you can show the sec- ond point, that Mary does not value his devotion. This can be shown in a variety of ways. Perhaps other boys and girls come into the scene. They are going to a picnic and they ask Mary and Ben to come. She is all eagerness. He is reluctant. He would rather be alone with Mary. She dances off with the others, leaving Ben stand- ing on the scene. Now you not only have your fact, but you know how to convey that fact to the spectator in action. The picnic party is not essential; indeed it might be objected to on the grounds of ex- pense. Our purpose could be served as well if Ben and Mary were seen coming down a country road and a friend came along in an auto and offered them a lift. One objection to this might be that some would suppose that the driver and not the auto was the attraction to Mary. This, however, can be avoided by making the driver a girl. We know Ben has eyes only for Mary. Show that he and the girl in the car are on friendly terms and the situation is clear. And here arises another point already referred to in matters of cost. The picnic party would give more life to the scene than a girl in an auto, but would cost money. But presently we are going to send Mary to the city and one scene shows her at the station. The same young people can be used to see her off, since it is necessary to "dress" or fill the station platform. Since they must be used anyway, use them now and get the better effect without additional cost. 32. Since we can have the picnic, we will follow them and leave Ben, since the next point is that Mary wants to go to the city. In the picnic scene one of the girls can show a letter from another who hasalready gone to town She writes of her success and it is thisthat determines Mary. The girl who has the letter is *ot interested. Mary begs the letter and this action motives her subsequent departure. If she merely decided to go on the spur of the moment she would seem to want to go for no other reason than to help the story along, but here we see the glowing tale of the other girl and know why Mary wants to follow. Having found the reason, there is a lapse which calls for a time leader, and then we see Mary telling Ben. He seeks to dissuade her without avail. Her mind is made up. Later we see Mary at the station. The boys and girls are there to see her off. The train comes. At the last moment Ben comes in with his satchel. He, too, is going. This will be more dramatic than had Ben announced in the scene with Mary that he would follow her. In similar fashion you develop each point into full action, and if this proves satisfactory you make out the plot of action from this. It is generally an ample scenario such as this that is required when a company announces that it wants a "synopsis only." It does not want a synopsis. It desires a scenario. There is another angle to planning action. It has been shown that in the story of Mary if we make the warning letter first sent by the girl in the office a malicious one, then the second letter gains in effect. Much may be done by looking ahead—or backward—and strengthening one incident with another. Playing off one piece of business against another will not make a marked difference in the apparent action, but it will make a vast difference in the impression made upon the spectator, though the spectator himself will not realize this. He will know only that he likes the story. He cannot tell why. The reason is unimportant. At first this work, if properly done, will seem to be the real drudgery of photoplay. It lacks the dash of plot imagining and the results of writing the finished action, but it is by far the most important part of the writing of the photoplay. The plot is worthless in the rough. It may sell for a few dollars. Well developed it may bring a hundred. You have a ton of steel. You may make it into skates or watchsprings. The labor is what makes the raw material of greater value. Learn, then, to give time and thought to the development of your play, that you may be able to get ounce and not ton prices for your steel. There are some persons so unfortunately constituted that they cannot concentrate. They want to sit down, dash off a play, get a check and repeat the performance. They have not the patience to sit down and work over the development of a plot. Either they write a good plot the first time or it never is a good plot. It is conceivable that now and then such persons will turn out a brilliant play, but they will never gain a real success. It is the man who can take his material and work on it until it is not only good but the best that can be done who will gain the reputation and the bank account that will follow. Rough diamonds are worth little compared to the cut and finished product. But understand, please, that it is almost as bad to work over a single play without interruption. You will get tired of it. You will lose your perspective. Have several plays in various stages of develop- ment, and work on these alternately, that you may not get tired of your plot. This leads to what Phil Lang, of the Kalem company, calls "let- ting it get cold." It was he who first urged upon photoplay writers this excellent advice. If you work with the proper enthusiasm you will turn from your finished product in the belief that it is the best thing you have ever done. A few weeks later, when it comes back from a studio, you will find many places where improvement can be made. To take Mr. Lang's advice do not send out your story immediately. Set it aside far a few weeks. Do other work. Then take it up and see if you are still satisfied with it. If you are not, work it over again and once more set it aside. You cannot sell it until it is in proper form. It is better to let it lie in your own drawer, meanwhile, rather than on editorial desks. Most experienced authors do this. All writers should. 39. Keep at it until you get it right, but do not make the mistake of slaving over one script for months. Do not take a pride in the length of time you have spent over it. Take a pride in doing the best possible work in the best possible time. Give all the time neces- sary, but seek to make that time relatively short. It is not clever to spend six months on a play. It is clever to spend six days on it and have it as well done as though you had spent six months. Work on it, off and on, for six months if you wish, but do others in the mean- time. Keep your plot book filled and keep them turning over and over. Labored and almost painfully slow development will show in the script and communicate your fatigue ni the spectator. Have plenty of plots in hand. Select the plot that most appeals to you at the mo- ment. Work on that. Tomorrow you may feel more in the mood for another script. After a time it will be easy to take up any script and work on it, but at first humor your mood a little so that you keep on working.