The Marketplace of Technique: Open to All

Transitions

Transitions From Real Life to Fantasy

The believable transition from a believable world into a fantasy world is never easy. I'm interested in seeing how others do it. Here's one example of how I did it for this thread....

=======================

Jed hated dust, he hated spiders, and he hated ladders. When Ida told him to go into the attic and bring down the old movie projector, he knew he was condemned to confront all three...plus the dark. "That's why they invented DVDs" he grumbled. "Confound it, why won't she let me pay the hundred bucks and get those movies on disk?"

He pulled down the trap door and gingerly opened the rickety built-in wooden ladder with the pitiably weak hand rails. Unwilling to use only one hand, he left his flashlight turned off, swinging from his belt, and ascended into the musty, fetid upperworld that no mortal eyes should be forced to see.

As he stepped from the top tread onto the floor, he heard a crunch. It was a sound common enough outdoors in the fall when stepping into dried grass and leaves. He wondered if he had ruined some heirloom and fumbled for his flashlight.

It would not turn on. The batteries were dead.

"Oh crud," he muttered, turning back to descend the stairs. But the open passageway to the lamp lit hospitable world of his domicile was not there. The door must have shut! And yet, wouldn't there have been a rather loud sound? But then again, maybe it had not shut. Maybe there was a power failure and a dark house below waiting for his misstep to plunge him headlong into disaster. He muttered something else, but it was not "Oh crud."

He got on his hands and knees and carefully felt for the opening. But there was no opening. There were tussocks of dried grass and brittle leaves. And as his eyes grew used to the dark, something more ominous that made his heart pound and his breath come quickly.

A starry sky. A crescent moon. A meadow rimmed with trees. Something had gone terribly wrong.
 
I may not sound professional and I feel quite out of place here, but I find myslef always speeding through the middle of my story. I know what I want for the beginning, middle, and end, but I'm always to anxious to write the end, I always neglect the middle. Then I usually just start another story so I won't have to deal with the problem? Anything I can do?
 
Well, perhaps you could write a draft of your ending, but purposely leave a little blank in it, something like: "The two young lovers rejoiced at their coming wedding day; but they would have been still happier if ___________ could have been there to share it with them." Then pose yourself a task: go back to the middle of the story to fill that blank. Imagine some events for the _middle_ of the story, which would lead up to the lovers missing someone at the end. Imagine a character who would be important, but who is not present at the beginning or end--as King Theoden in LOTR is important but is not present at the beginning or end. The middle of the story could largely revolve around this character, just as much of "The Two Towers" revolved around Theoden. The contribution of this "middle" character could give impetus for the plot's movement beyond the beginning; and after he or she was dead or absent, the later part of the story would be colored by the memory of what this character did.
 
Why don't you try writing BACKWARDS? Murder mystery people have done that for ages. Let's say I was writing a Columbo Murder Mystery.

1 - I come up with the "perfect crime"
2 - I look for things that could go wrong.
3 - I find out what the consequences of the mistake are.
4 - I determine where they would be and how they might be located.

The detective of course is going the OTHER WAY

1 - Look for clues
2 - Determine what the mistakes tell you
3 - Reconstruct the "perfect crime"

The writer knows how the crime will be solved, then works backward putting all the pieces out there for the detective to find in the logical order.

You can do this with a DISCOVERY, a QUEST, a RESCUE, or even a LOVE STORY. You can imagine Esmarelda in your arms saying that she is glad you are really a lost prince and that you have a fortune waiting for you in Deacon's Castle and that you slew the three dragons of Pertinax just for her and how she learned to overlook your cynical bitterness that was the result of being raised poor as a gypsy beggar falsely accused of stealing the cruel duke's gold handled riding crop.

Now that you know what's needed, go back and put those things in so that they logically come together at the end.
 
If writing any sort of mystery in the way ES described, you'll need to decide what is the most crucial fact for the detective to uncover. Many people assume that the goal in a detective story is always to find out WHO done it, but there are other variants. You might know from the very start who committed the crime, but not know WHY he did it, or HOW he did it.
 
You're never too old to try a new style

2001, the year in which America was attacked without provocation by people who hate us merely for existing at all, was the year in which I turned fifty. During the fateful month of September, I was at sea aboard a U.S. Navy submarine. Some young African-American sailors in the crew, finding that I was open-minded about rap, gave me a rapper nickname, "Rav-G." In the days after we got the news about New York and Washington being hit, I made up a lengthy rap to try to help my shipmates process the shock. It was well received. Here is what I wrote:

==================================

Some guys can pull words out of their colon;
They talk real fast, and they go on and go on.
But old Rav-G, he thinks a bit slower;
They shoot from the hip--I shoot from the shoulder.
I may not know all the slang of the moment,
But where there's truth, I try hard to know it.
At least this gives me time for reflection
About sad news from the back-home direction.
We live each day as we work for a living;
We have our ideas of taking and giving;
But when disaster hits like a comet,
We don't know whether to curse or to vomit.
The news is bad, and we don't like to face it;
But small talk or big talk just can't erase it.

Now, old Rav-G remembers how chilling
It was to hear of each Kennedy killing,
With Martin Luther King's death in addition;
We all felt the sorrow, and angry suspicion.
But this time, it's not somebody famous;
On Bloody Tuesday, some people who hate us
Decided America's whole population
Would be their target for intimidation.
The suicide killers used planes as their weapon,
And soon found themselves in Hell, not in Heaven;
But somewhere, still, there's the monster who planned it,
Who needs to be hunted and killed like a bandit.
We all wish we were the one who could catch him,
But not everybody gets that satisfaction.

So what do the rest of us do while we're waiting
To hear that America's retaliating?
The answer may sound just too sentimental
If you look at life like a video rental;
But old Rav-G has seen quite a few things,
And he's here to tell you one of the true things.
Anyone evil can blow up a building;
Ain't nothing so easy as wrecking and killing.
What falls in a minute was years in the making;
The real achievement was in the creating.
We can't all take down the villains like Jet Li,
But we can be on the right side, if you get me.

Make someone your friend instead of your victim;
If someone falls down, help him up, don't kick him.
I may sound like Barney the Dinosaur singing;
But when you're the one who's in trouble, and clinging
To life on a clifftop, you're going to be grateful
If somebody comes who is helpful, not hateful.
So don't wait until you're the one who's in danger;
There's good to be done, whether minor or major.
It may not be macho to help out in small ways,
But good deeds add up, and we need them always.

We'll soon pick our enemies up on the radar,
But it's not enough to be stronger than they are.
Besides having missiles and smart bombs to flame them,
We'll prove that we're better than they are, and shame them.
The terrorists want to bring down our freedom,
But our way of life is what really will beat 'em.
Not wagging the dog, but finding the guilty,
And showing the world who's clean and who's filthy,
We'll prove that we're still the land of the free,
And that is WORD!--from old Rav-G.


Joseph Ravitts
(pronounced RAY-vitts)
 
WOW!!:eek::D

You've said it. I can hardly imagine doing that... although I have no problems with rap... but there's some kind of music in Mexico which I really hate to the...

I mean, you've said it. And I can't help but laugh sometimes whenever I read it (with no offense, I must say it).
 
Una cosa te da risa? Relax, Maese, it doesn't bother me if you laugh at my rap. Something can be humorous at the same time as it discusses a serious issue.
 
I am close to turning 56. I began writing at about age five, with the following two poems:

============================

Once there was a rabbit
Who had a funny habit:
He'd never bite or scratch his hair,
Because he hadn't any fleas to spare.

============================

Noon on the Moon
Is so soon
That a man,
Looking at a can,
Сan think
In a wink.
The Moon at night
Is a very bright sight.
This very bright sight
Is caused by noon on the Moon.
 
All I know is, if I'm older than dirt, he's older than rock! A seven year old child the day His Cute-As-A-Button-ness was born. :D

Now to return to topic...when I was in college I knew a young man whose writing really impressed me. I can't remember his name, but I remember the first line to one of his short stories all these years later.

"Emile leaned against the fencepost and looked into the desolate sky where somber clouds trudged by like soldiers returning from the front."

Sometimes an image is priceless.

Creating memorable images in the mind's eye of your reader is a valuable skill. It can make or break a story.
 
Now that reminds me of something from adolescence, when I already had writing ambitions.

One hot, clear summer day, I was outdoors in a place where there were no large trees. The small trees that were available gave only an incomplete shade from the sun's assault; but considering that this was better than nothing, I thought of the phrase "a thin, sweet shade." I wanted to include that phrase in a story someday, but never got around to it. Maybe because I was waiting for "the perfect occasion" to use it. If we have good phrases stored in our minds, perhaps we ought to go ahead and use them in something, lest they remain completely unused.
 
When you want to introduce a situation, you can and should proceed in the order human senses work. For instance:

1) Brightness
2) Size
3) Moving
4) Identify
5) Significance

The gate was rudely thrust open. In the eye-stinging brilliance of light, an immense creature burst forth, rushing past me. It was a balrog, the self-same monster that my stammering guide called "Khalil the Horrible". I knew at once he had detected the theft of the Palantir.

If we put it out of that order, the same information means much less. This is plot-centered writing that does not help the senses:

Having detected the theft of his Palantir, "Khalil the Horrible," a balrog of great size, rushed out of the gate in a light so bright it stung my eyes, then went past me.
 
Last edited:
The great Tolstoy, at the start of his Tales Of Sevastopol, gave an amazing example of the approach you endorse; it was so evocative that, if I hadn't known that it was written in the mid-19th century, I would have guessed that Mr. Tolstoy was consciously writing it in view of a movie version being made. He creates a lifelike sight-and-sound picture of the Black Sea coast; then, as if doing a helicopter shot in a movie, draws the reader along with him to come closer and closer to the besieged seaport city of Sevastopol. Only gradually--unless already knowing the historical background--does the reader come to realize that the Crimean War is in progress here.
 
wow, I've only read a few posts on this thread and it's a very interesting thread.

as far as my writing style currently I'm best at the "drabble" style writing. short entries which can all be put together to make a story.
 
Lol Copper, those poems sounded like my first attempt at writing :p

If found it interesting, ES, that you put the descriptions in this order:

1) Brightness
2) Size
3) Moving
4) Identify
5) Significance

I didn't think I usually look at things that way. Then I realized that I usually describe the lighting first or second. But I noticed you didn't put emotion, smell, taste, touch, or hearing anywhere on that list! Usually emotion, object, or touch is the first things I write about, then I continue outwards from there.

Anonymous stood in the graveyard under a leafless, dripping cherry tree, hunching his shoulders against the wet snow. He breathed into his trench-coats collar for warmth. Across the creaking gravestones, he could see the mourners huddled beneath black umbrellas, like a flock of crows taking refuge from January’s chill. But of all the mourners, it was the one not mourning that attracted Anonymous most.

This is a typical first paragraph for me. Using ES number system, it went like this:

1 Action
2 Touch
3 Identity
4 Emotion

I wonder what we would learn if we observed all our beginning paragraphs this way?
 
Back
Top