Here’s the Story…

Meghan Ward’s post this week on her blog, Writerland, got me thinking.  She asks readers about favorite TV shows, names a few of her own, and mentions how good TV can teach “valuable storytelling techniques.”

When I was in grad school, one of my fellow TAs showed his Intro to Fiction Writing class an episode of The Brady Bunch to illustrate the importance of conflict, crisis, resolution.  I don’t recall which episode it was – Jan’s allergy to the family dog? Marcia’s getting braces?  Greg’s being grounded after driving when Mike told him not to? – but it doesn’t matter.  Looking back on the show I watched every Friday night (what a lineup:  next came Partridge Family then Room 222 and The Odd Couple, and once my parents allowed me to stay up till 10, Love American Style), I remember how tightly those plots were constructed:  the conflict introduced right away (Jan starts sneezing, Marcia gets metal mouth), ratcheted up to a crisis between commercial breaks, and all resolved at the end, Carol and Mike talking it over in bed, she in her flouncy nighty, he in tailored PJs.

Not the stuff of James Joyce or Alice Munro, but a good place to start.  Next week I’m co-teaching a weeklong fiction intensive at UC Berkeley Extension.  I’ve been reading the manuscripts and, intriguing and detailed and full of imagination as they are, considering how best to hone in on the basics every story needs.

In reminding my students, of course, I’m reminding myself.  The essentials of craft – imagery, characterization, setting, point of view – are tools we can sharpen and hone, over time wielding them to best effect.  But as its core, a story needs conflict, and conflict comes from desire.

I learned the word “anhedonia” in grad school, when one of my professors railed against the then- (and still-) popular strain of stories about narrators who thought and spoke and acted, traveled in a specific time and place and made intelligent / ironic / humorous /deadpan / lyrical observations, but didn’t exhibit desire.  They thought a lot – too much – but they didn’t want anything.

That was the point, we who wrote those stories argued.  We were writing true to life, and who didn’t feel anhedonic from time to time?  The story’s point of emotional numbness seemed part of its accuracy, its relevance. We had graduated past The Brady Bunch. We had literary aspirations.

Greg wants to pitch for the Dodgers.  Jan wants to be voted Most Popular.  Greg and Marcia both want the attic room as their own bedroom. The more I’ve taught fiction, the more I’ve learned the helpfulness of what, in 30 minutes (less commercials), can feel a tad formulaic.

Consider the unnamed narrator in Joyce’s story “Araby.”  We know what he wants as soon as he describes Mangan’s sister standing in the light.  Or the “savage brat” whose determination not to open her mouth (and show the doctor her diseased tonsils) fuels William Carlos Williams’ wonderfully taut story “The Use of Force.”  Anders, the world-weary jerk of a book critic in Tobias Wolff’s “Bullet in the Brain” is past all desire at the beginning of the story – ah, but then his cynicism gets him shot, and what beautiful longing opens up, redeeming him and creating one of the most satisfying short stories I know.

If you don’t know these stories, go find them.  Each one will take you only 10 minutes to read, all three in a half hour.  Just the time, come to think of it, of seeing what happens after Don Drysdale praises Greg’s pitching.

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About lindseycrittenden

Lindsey Crittenden is the author of two published books: THE WATER WILL HOLD YOU: A SKEPTIC LEARNS TO PRAY (Harmony Books, 2007) and THE VIEW FROM BELOW, a collection of short stories (Midlist Press, 1999). Her personal essays and articles – on topics such as prayer, the pitfalls of too much California sunshine, and visiting a group of lifers at San Quentin – have appeared in The New York Times, The San Francisco Chronicle Magazine, Image, Real Simple, Bon Appétit, East Bay Express, Health, and Best American Spiritual Writing. Her fiction has won national awards and has appeared in Glimmer Train, Bellingham Review, Quarterly West, and other publications. Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, she graduated from UC Berkeley, moved to New York City as soon as she could, and returned to California for grad school. While in the graduate creative writing program at UC Davis, she discovered (much to her surprise) the fun of teaching. She lives in San Francisco and teaches at UC Berkeley Extension. She has completed a novel, and is writing new short stories and a (very early stages) nonfiction exploration of spirituality & sex.
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3 Responses to Here’s the Story…

  1. Meghan Ward says:

    I love the Brady Bunch! I remember convincing my parents to let me watch it through dinner when the second and third parts of the Hawaii and Grand Canyon trips were on. And Bullet in the Brain is one of my favorite short stories. What a masterpiece. Thank you so much for sharing your insights into how these can help us write better fiction. Did you use them in your class last week? How did that go? I’m going to tweet this post out.

  2. Really great post. Fun — and helpful Saw Meghan Ward’s tweet about it, which I retweeted. Now I’ve got to go re-read Bullet in the Brain. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!

  3. Thanks, Meghan & Kathy! Meghan, as to your question about last week’s class, that’s the topic of this week’s post, coming Friday. Stay tuned !

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