Saturday, September 29, 2012

Premise Line

So a couple of weeks ago I was presented with a complimentary ticket to attend a workshop by John Turby on story telling. Basically, it was a lecture spanning over three days that established the fundamental elements of crafting narrative, particularly with a focus on popular film. Really, though, a lot of the teachings felt pretty universal.

How the main character always needs to have a fundamental weakness that they need to resolve, and a how everything is driven by their desire to a reach a particular goal. How they need an opponent in order to grow, and how the hero can only be as strong as the opponent. An opponent who essentially has desire for the same thing as the hero; this is ultimately what brings them together. And the best antagonist you can have is one that is intimate with the main character and is the one that best knows how to exploit their weakness. The path along the way is full of allies (that will confront the main character along the way when their motives aren't pure), false ally enemies (that will try to derail him and exploit his weakness) and false enemy allies (that will help him along and provide insight into the main opponent). The main character eventually creates a plan he needs to fulfill in order to defeat the opponent and fill his desire. How this all culminates in a battle between the two, and how the hero has a self-revelation about himself, bringing understanding about the situation and who he truly is/meant to be. If he has this revelation before the decisive moment, he rises and becomes a greater individual after attaining his desire. If this comes after... He falls to a lower state than he was at the beginning. And in either case, a new equilibrium is reached and status-quo established.

That's the gist of about 18hrs of lectures condensed into a single paragraph. And that's not even touching on other MASSIVE parts that were talked about, like dialogue and genre.

_MG_1975


Needless to say, after being bombarded with such an incredible amount of information over a relatively tiny strip of time, my head was doing funny things. I was thinking of everything in terms of story structure and genre. Including... Myself.

And that's when I began to wonder... What story do I have to tell? What's my weakness, and who's my opponent? Sure, these are all tools for crafting a narrative, but in my overwhelmed and sleep-deprived state, I began trying to piece myself together from this new point of view. What is my desire line? What am I trying to achieve, and do I have any kind of plan? Allies? False ally enemies/enemy allies? What self-revelations have I had/will I have, and what battles are before me? Do I fall or do I rise once all is said and done?

For some reason, I really want to craft a story using this framework to explain who and where I am right now. First, because it'd be a fun exercise. Second, because I think this structure really forces me to identify and confront various aspects of who I am as a person. If nothing else, how would I boil me and my story into a premise? A premise is supposed lay out an inciting event, the main character, and final outcome. There are a million different possibilities from this. "By moving into a new province to sweep floors in a robotics business, a quiet highschool graduate stumbles onto a love of art." "After enrolling at art school, an introverted shut-in finds himself wondering the streets of New York alone." "As he works through his final year of art-school, a dedicated workaholic ultimately ends up ______."

So many stories to tell. I wonder what mine would be. I wonder what it'd be like to be someone else looking at me in my entirety and be able to sum up who I am, what part of me is unique/interesting, and boil it down into a story. I think it'd be an interesting exercise I'd like to embark on once I graduate and have more time. A written self portrait, of sorts.

That all being said... I have a new found respect for writers and their craft. It's unbelievable the amount of work that has to go into creating a story from scratch so that it hits all the "beats" of a story (there's the fancy new jargon I got from the lecture), and keep track of everything. I have no clue how I'm going to apply what I learned to my own line of work in graphic design-type-stuff. But I know that I won't be able to watch movies or watch books the same way again. And I certainly have a new lens to focus and zoom in on myself and try to decipher some sort of bigger picture. What story do I have to tell, indeed...
-Cril

Michael Giacchino - Labor of Love

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Back at 'er

Ah, school. It's kinda nice to be back, in a truly loathsome way. After just a few classes, I once again feel like a doofus that realizes he barely knows what he's doing. There's a class where we need to create and market a new product. There's a lot of emphasis on the customer and target market, and I find myself struggling to really have my head in the game and doing something, anything that the professors don't need to give me major corrections on. I'm just not finding this level of strategizing very intuitive.

Mind you, I'm finding that the 4th year profs are really... Hesitant to give you any concrete feedback. Lots of "it's up to you" and "go with your gut". And I see the point - if we're supposed to be independent designers, we need to be able to pick a direction and pursue it. But at the same time, I feel like I don't know how to identify what directions are the strongest, and that I'll probably working with other designers that'd say "yeah, I think this works best - go with it." And not to mention that, as a graphic designer, it seems a bit far fetched for me to be deciding what products should be making it to market.

The program heads seem pretty bent on making us "content creators", though. So not only do we make it look purdy, but we make it itself. I see where they're going with it - it'll make us way more valuable to clients for being able to make said content, but it'll help us to better understand existing content. I think that, ideally, they're training us to be creative directors, but... I feel as though that's being really optimistic. Realistically, I think a slim fraction of us will ever progress to that point. Seriously, I can't imagine that there are enough creative director positions created each year within the country to support that kind of growth coming out of art/design institutions.

So there you have it - going back to school makes me feel kinda dumb and I have doubts as to the kind of career I'll be able to find after I'm done. That being said, this week I somehow got a scholarship given out to the top 1.5-2% of the program. The money, while nice, is kind of secondary to the realization that I'm one of the top students in my degree, if not the top student. That blows my mind more than a little bit, especially considering that I don't look at my grades and I work two part-time jobs. Something tells me that, just maybe, I'll turn out okay after I graduate...
-Cril

Coldplay - Life in Technicolor

Sunday, September 09, 2012

The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun

So through some crazy turn of events, it seems that my long-dead gaming clan is having some sort of post-mortem spasms. We used to primarily be a Counter-Strike community (particularly for 1.6 and earlier), and by the time CS:Source rolled around, we were starting to dissipate a bit. And between the creation of a Facebook page and the recent release of CS:GO, it seems like we're keeping in touch and (gasp!) spending in-game time together. We've even got a server. And a website/forum refresh to boot.

It's a really good feeling to see some of these people still kicking around, and getting to spend some (digital) time with them. There used to be so much politics and drama, and now... There are a bunch of people messing around, joking, and having a good time. And remembering the good times, too.

I don't know if it'll stay like this, if people will keep on playing or resume posting in the forums. I hope they do. I'm glad I got to do some fragging with them while I could, before school gets too crazy. Here's hoping that they'll still be around if/when I emerge from the other side of my education.

Anyways, it's been a weird day. I've been in a bit of a concentration-less limbo. Floated around between a bunch of different activities and thoughts. School's starting off a bit slow, so I'm stuck in this weird mode where I don't have lots of homework, but I'm too scared stiff to actually sit back and enjoy the lack thereof. I'm sure it'll all change soon enough.
-Cril

Then describe it
He came toward meWith a pistol?
From my bureau
Did you fight him?
Like a tiger
He had strength and she had none


And yet we both reached for the gun

Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes we both
Oh yes we both
Oh yes, we both reached for
The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun
Oh yes, we both reached for the gun
For the gun

Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes they both

Oh yes, they both
Oh yes, they both reached for
The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun,
Oh yes, they both reached for the gun
For the gun
 
Christine Baranski/Cleve Asbury/Renée Zellweger/Richard Gere/Rick Negron/Suaun Amyot - We Both Reached for the Gun

Sunday, September 02, 2012

Beverly, and Her Plaque on a Bench by the River

We've all seen those benches. You know, the ones with those little plaques that dedicates this fantastical seat to a person. Sometimes we even read further than the "Dedicated in memory to..." to actually find out what name is attached. But we sit, we read or rest or admire the scenery or eat or people watch, and then we get up and move on with our day. And hey, apparently that bench was dedicated to someone or something. How sweet.

But have you really ever stopped to think what that little square of engraved metal actually means? What it represents?

I was walking around a park by my hotel in Saskatoon, and it was full of grey and green benches, each one with its own such plaque. Lots of names and dates and 'loving father/friend/mother/brother/sister'. And then I stumbled on one that read "In memory of the love we shared. Beverly Ann Newman. 1953-2010." It brought my lazy walk to a screeching halt.

_MG_1906


Those few words can't even begin to hint at the rich story behind how this message found its way to a park bench. Hell, to even call it a story doesn't even do it justice. These twelve words, smaller than your average Tweet, represent a whole life. No, even greater - it opens up a window the tiniest crack into two lives.

Beverly Ann Newman was a soul in a body and journeyed through life just like the rest of us. She woke up on cold, grey mornings and would sigh at the unexpected and gloomy rain. She combed her hair before going to work. She licked her fingers after eating greasy chicken, laughed at the stupid joke she heard from a friend, and raised her head, with eyes closed, to greet the sun on the warmest of spring mornings. And in the fall, she could breathe in and smell the first scent of the coming snowfall.

And one day she met someone. And they fell in love. And they spent minutes, hours, in silence as they stared into each other's eyes. And they bantered while waiting for the red light to change while they were on their way to a favourite restaurant. They licked their fingers after eating the sticky food on their plates, and they told each other stupid jokes to see the other smile, and they turned their heads out of the biting winter wind and held each other close as their feet went crunch, crunch, crunch through the snow and ice. And some days they'd just stop to watch the river flow by, resting their heads on eachother.

And one day when she was just 57, Beverly Ann Newman died. And her greatest love wept bitterly in the hospital, and bitterly at the funeral, and bitterly as a form was filled out to sponsor a municipal park bench by the river they had visited together. And sighed heavily when first sitting on the bench that now bore the name of a now-lost love.

I don't know who Beverly Ann Newman was, what she was like, the colour of her hair, or what kind of music she liked. I don't even know who she left behind, and how heavy their heart must've felt when this simple little piece of engraved metal was the best way they could declare to the world a simultaneous sorrow lamenting a period of shared, pure joy.

But looking at that small sign, I know that Beverly and her love lived and experienced every drop of this human experience as I have or can ever feel.

That's a lot of responsibility for twelve lonely words on a green and grey park bench.
-Cril

As I walk away
I look over my shoulder
To see what I'm leaving behind


Pieces of puzzles
And wishes on eyelashes fail

Oh

How do I show all the love
Inside my heart

Well this is all new

And I'm feeling my way through the dark


KT Tunstall - Through the Dark