Hypnagogia — A Reflection
Tag: Writing
Action Stories: The Plan Must Go Wrong
Perhaps it’s not the secret sauce; perhaps it’s the reliable wheat burger bun: handy, reliable, essential, but you’re too focused on the burger and cheese to notice it.
“The plan must go wrong.” I first noticed this trope during a rewatch of Christopher Nolan’s TENET, one of my favorite movies. There’s a heist planned, and before he executes it, the protagonist recites to his teammate all the details of what he will do. In reality, this is Nolan’s way of informing us, the audience.
The first few steps of this plan go smoothly. But then, suddenly, he’s ambushed! On top of this, the artifact he came to get was destroyed.
After I noticed this trope in TENET, I realized it’s used all the time in books, films, and shows. It’s handy for keeping viewers on their toes. Imagine how boring a story would be if every single thing the main character said came true? Fiction should be unpredictable, like life.
There’s No Autopilot for Writing
The blank page. So mysterious, the state of wanting to write but having no vision yet, or having a vision but no words prepared. To me it seems writing is a very conscious process. There is no way to assign the task to the subconscious. Even when using cliches, which are overused and don’t make for the most joyful writing, the creative must still have at least a faint idea of an outline in order to assemble tropes and phrases together. Even if they are a pantser, the writer is conscious of each previous paragraph as they create a new one.
While driving, I often go into autopilot, thinking about groceries, my personal life, or a good movie or video game while my body steers the wheel, brakes the brake, presses the gas. My subconscious picks up the slack while I drive. But not so for writing.
Elements of writing can be handled by the subconscious, sure. For example, most sentences I pen on the page are the first drafts of my mind. I can craft a sentence without pondering “should it be a periodic or a loose sentence? Should it be compound, complex, or simple? And what of the word count?” Generally, my mind fills in what sounds right to me, so I don’t need to ask such questions. But I do need to actively think about previous sentences in order to create a new one.
My subconscious is handy for writing sentences quicker—just plunk down the next set of logical words—but I can craft more powerful sentences by reviewing my arsenal of literary devices, or just playing around with the word choice. Plus, it’s fun to consciously assemble each detail. It’s like cooking a meal, step by step.
What’s another way writing requires conscious awareness? Speech. I’ve discovered I can talk to someone while also typing a paragraph that I’m copying from a notebook. But to talk and craft an entirely unique paragraph is impossible—for me, anyway. Let me know if your experience differs! In my case, the choice is either speech or writing. Both require high awareness on my part. So I have to choose where to point my attention.
The blank page cannot be overcome without effort. Or awareness. The blank page beckons us, compels us to grow as writers.
The Pros and Perils of the Pantser
One thing I’ve learned recently, during my practice of writing one flash fiction every week, is that being a “pantser” comes with its own unique challenges. For those who don’t know, a pantser is a writer who begins a story without outlining it. They are the opposite of plotters, who always pre-plan their stories before writing it.
On a given day being a pantser, my word-inventory might be strong: I’ll feel warmed up to create beautiful descriptions or narration, with stunning literary devices. But without a vision of where I’m taking my story, I cannot write a single sentence, unless I want a speculative piece, maybe.
So I sit at my page and generate visions on the fly—how many characters to include, what setting, theme, etc.—and that eats up writing time. I’ve had quick brainstorm sessions before, don’t get me wrong, and being a pantser feels more free than being a plotter, having to follow the rules of a rigid outline. But if I brainstorm sloppily, I also risk gluing cliches together to make a story.
Here’s an example:
(Bland brainstorm session) A cigarette dropped in woods causes fire.
(Effective brainstorm session) A blow-torch is used in woods to reveal secret bunker under the foliage.
To get that uniqueness takes more mental effort. But if you make it, it’s definitely worth it.
Subverting Expectations on The Visionary Level
Life Is Larger Than What We See In Our Heads
If I said to you, “Look! It’s a trucker!” odds are, before you turned your head to look, your mind would conjure the image of a male. You’d be less likely to imagine a female tricler, or a trucker with vitaligo, or transgender trucker, even though all those things are valid and exist in the real world.
In the real world, we walk around with subconscious biases for how things ought to look and sound, and this may be based on how things commonly are, or based on stereotypes that are far off from reality. Regardless, the biases exist within us and effect our expectations and therefore how we interact with the world.
So when we see the unexpected, say, a female trucker, we are momentarily shocked—we’re put in a situation we aren’t usually in, which forces us to be in the present moment. There’s no subconscious pattern created for novel situations. And following said experience, we’re more likely to remember it since required more brain power to process and navigate.
The Unexpected Can Enhance Your Writing
The principle of the unexpected—of people and situations that don’t neatly fit into our common ideas—this principle can be used when crafting stories. Concepting a story where a belly dancer is revealed to be a man, or a story where the setting is described as a house but is revealed to be a dungeon—these stories shock readers, make the narrative more salient in their minds. By practicing your skills as a Visionary, someone who plays around with the various ways a single story can be presented, you, too, can create plots that hook readers.
If in a story I say there’s a waitress, a generic image will come to mind. But if I have a story set in China with a Muslim waitress wearing a hijab, you’ll see something more vivid. And uncommon. Questions will come to mind: how is the woman speaking Chinese? Was she born there? How unique!
Subverting expectations can have splendid results. When creating a plot for your next story, try experimenting with this.
The Fiction Writer 