“The thing the character wants need not be violent or spectacular; it is the intensity of the wanting that counts.” Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft, by Janet Burroway.
What a great, simple observation about story telling that gets right to the core of things.
And this intensity of the wanting applies to both comedy and drama. Think of Carrie in Homeland, Walter in Breaking Bad, or any of the characters in Seinfeld, Broad City, or Portlandia. Big or small, funny or dramatic, you know what these characters want, and that they want it intensely. The character of Kramer from Seinfeld, come on, he wants everything intensely. And because these characters want intensely — we care, we laugh, we cry.
I could stop here. Except.
The intensity of the want ties directly into Trey Parker’s and Matt Stone’s “therefore and but.” It ties in because the “therefores” and “buts” show how much — how intensely — a character wants something. If you haven’t watched the video where Trey Parker and Matt Stone explain the therefore and but thing, it’s simply their way of talking about what a character wants, the obstacles a character encounters, and what the character does about those obstacles.
As an example, let’s go to Homeland, and the opening sequence of its pilot episode. Carrie wants intel from a prisoner that’s going to be executed in Baghdad, which is where Carrie is driving as the show opens. Therefore — because this prisoner is about to be executed and she’s worried that he’ll die before she’ll be able to get the intel — she calls Estes (her CIA boss), and asks him to intervene in the execution. But Estes says no to this request, and shuts her down, telling Carrie to stop. Therefore — because her want to get this intel is intense — she ignores Estes’ order. But while she’s driving to the prison to get the intel, she gets stuck in traffic, therefore she leaves the car in traffic and goes on foot to the prison … and it goes on, “but” after “but,” obstacle after obstacle, showing how much she wants this intel, until finally the prisoner whispers something in her ear, right as she’s being pulled away by the prison guards. Wow. Such a great opening.
The visual of Carrie leaving the car in traffic is a wonderful way to convey the intensity of her want. If she didn’t care: “Oh well, stuck in traffic, looks like I’ll be late for the execution. Wonder what the prisoner would’ve told me about the imminent attack on the United States?” In fact, the whole opening of the pilot is an illustration of how to show intense want of a character.
When I write this stuff out, it seems basic and obvious. So I say to myself, if it’s so basic and obvious — do it.
And I could stop here. Except.
Maybe it matters what kind of obstacles (or “buts”) our characters face. Maybe it matters because each of these obstacles present our characters with a choice, and the choices our characters make and the actions (or inaction) that flow from those choices define who they are.
Back to Homeland. Leaving the car behind in the middle of the road defines who Carrie is. And even more defining of Carrie’s character is her ignoring her boss when he tells her to stop. This is a character trait we see in her throughout the series — when push comes to shove, she’ll ignore her bosses if she thinks doing so is necessary to thwart the enemy — which is the thing she wants intensely. And this could lead to a discussion of the great character dynamics of that show … but I’ll save that for another day.
One last thing, although the example I used for Homeland is a bit “violent or spectacular,” I also think that Ms. Burroway’s point that it doesn’t need to be is right on. See English literature for wonderful examples of quiet intense wanting, or for that matter other scenes in Homeland.
Now, I’ll stop.
Thoughts?
Charlie Lyons Writes 