One of my roommates and I started watching Downton Abbey last week, and within four evenings had finished the first two seasons and are almost all caught up. It's a really engrossing show, for those of you who haven't seen it, and Maggie Smith is a treasure (and a Golden Globe winner).
However, between the two of us, we were able to predict a fair number of the plot twists. It's no fault of Downton's writers, to be sure. When you consume pop culture, whether it be in the form of books, TV, music, or film, you're bound to catch on to patterns in the storytelling.
It's the same principle that allows you to pick out the killer in basically any crime procedural within the first fifteen minutes if you've seen enough episodes. As audience members, we know enough to understand how a typical hour of CSI works. We know that if you are stuck in a cabin at night in the middle of Death Forest and you hear a noise outside, it's probably not a great idea to go by yourself armed with a wooden spoon to investigate.
Genre Savviness
When a character in the story exhibits this knowledge and understanding of pop culture, they're exhibiting “genre savviness,” which injects postmodernism into the work. Being genre savvy doesn't mean the character knows that they're in a story; it just means that they're familiar enough with similar stories to know how things work in that type of story.
For example, when two characters in a horror movie are being chased and make to run up the stairs, but then one of them says, “No, we can't go up the stairs. Horror movie 101 is you always die if you go up the stairs,” that's genre savviness.
Or The Incredibles, when the beefy superdad wants a cape and the snappy designer says, “No capes,” followed by a montage of superheros dying because their capes got caught in jet engines and such, that's genre savviness.
Giving one or multiple characters some level of genre awareness can turn a tired horror story into the Scream franchise, or when applied to a villain, can make the villain nigh-invincible (like one of these “evil overlord” lists).
Have you ever written a story where the character was aware of their genre?
PRACTICE
Pick a genre that usually suffers from predictability (horror, crime, Nicholas Sparks, etc.) and create a genre savvy character in that element. Write for fifteen minutes and explore how typical storylines would change with your new character's awareness. Post your practice in the comments and leave notes for your fellow writers.
Just beyond the Tovar’s property line grew a wild thicket of shrubs, trees, and weeds that had gone without maintenance for an unspecified number of years. Two hundred or more would be anyone’s guess, as the plants grew nearly to the roof of the old mansion in places. The Wimbledon House sat nestled betwixt dying oak trees and ivy that grew up the sides of the antediluvian structure; Mother Earth herself trying to swallow the house, to hide it from man, and the house struggling to stand.
David Tovar who had inadvertently chucked his brother’s baseball in a fit of rage only discovered the old house by the shattering glass from whence the baseball went and accusations of being “chicken.” He and his twin brother then stood on the creaky old porch of the mansion who’s wood lacked any hint of paint whatsoever, matching the color of the dirt beneath their feet.
“Rock beats paper,” they said, and, “It’s one, two, three, go,” and, “No, its one, two, then you go on three.” A voice behind them startled them; David nearly stumbled backward.
“Nobody’s going inside. Maybe I should let you boys watch horror movies, after all.” It was their mother. She stood with her arms crossed. “If I did, maybe you’d know that you NEVER go in an old abandoned house. Now, like I said, neither of you are going. I’ll get you a new baseball while we’re out; I’m taking you both to get fitted for tuxes. Your Aunt Ruth’s wedding is next week.” David and his brother groaned. “Oh come on,” their mother said, “Don’t you want to look like James Bond?”
The boys were fitted for their tuxes and, as promised, taken to the Sporting Goods for a new baseball. David got a new glove too, his old one had begun to lose stitching along the net. Tyler his brother got a new hockey stick though there was nothing wrong with his old one. On the car ride home David’s mother had said, “Now aren’t you boys glad you didn’t go in that old house? We might be going to a funeral instead of a wedding!” and she winked at David and while David was amused that seemed an odd thing to wink about.
Before bed David showered and he stepped through the sliding door in front of the sink. The glass on the mirror fogged over like the surface of a frozen lake. Reaching up to get his toothbrush he stopped. The mirror was moving.
No, he thought, not moving but something on it was moving. Clearing a path through the steamed surface, like an ant digging a tunnel but in fast forward, a message appeared on the glass. In the thin lines of clear reflective surface David saw his own terrified eyes inside the letter O. The mirror read: You Broke My Window >:(
Ooh, I really like this twist on a classic. Also, nice use of the antediluvian word of the week 😉
Was wondering if anyone would catch that 🙂
I enjoyed this story! The rock-paper-scissor lines were great (the mother is totally right – you always go on three 🙂 ) I also liked the ending. Random question: Did the >:( characters actually appear on the mirror or did you add them as a sort of post script?
Haha, that appeared as part of the message. 😛
Thanks Karl. A good short story. I liked the phrasing you used.
Thank you very much!
Oooh that was good! I liked how you avoided the story being a horror tale and more of a comedy, until the end. Your description of the house at the beginning is wonderful.
I’m glad you liked it. The first time I typed it, I got down to 5 minutes left on the timer and somehow hit “back” on my browser, losing everything. It was for the best though, because the first time around I struggled and it probably didn’t read as well as this one.
Awesome Karl! Nice little twist at the end and great description at the beginning. Way to hook your readers 🙂
Thanks Giulia you’re beginning to be my favorite commenter =]
Why, thank you *blush*
It wasn’t scary until the end. And then it hit, I’m in a real horror story. Nice Kar.
Karl, you did it again. I love that ending, especially the emoticon, haha
This is a great exercise; I’m excited to put this to use in my works in progress. Do you suppose the plot would still be surprising if the original ending still happened, despite the character’s genre savviness? There is a certain irony in doing everything you can to avoid the likely outcome and still ending up there…
Absolutely! It’s possible for a character to be genre savvy in the wrong genre as well. For example, a character assumes that an encounter in a cabin in the woods at night will result in death, but it’s actually just their significant other surprising them with a thoughtful and romantic evening.
Oooh nice twist.
This is a continuation of the novel project started for “The best writing book I’ve ever read.”
——–
Lindy squared off with Tinder in the street.
“I can’t believe you just said that about my grandmother. About Sasha Goldfeather, the mother of these settlements. She’s dying in a hospital bed, for Aurora’s sake and you’ve the gall to accuse her of…of swindling people?”
“That isn’t what I said, Lindy. Of course she kept her technology close to her chest, it’s her only livelihood. Or it was anyway. No one has had a maintenance visit in fifteen years. The homestead domes are all but gone.”
“She got sick, people could’ve learned from her in all those years she visited them.” Lindy twisted her hat viciously in her hands. “They could’ve checked in on her after he…”
“I’m so sorry, Lindy. I should have come back to visit you. You never had any more animals to sell. I didn’t know what to say without a reason to come all that way. I should have told you right then in your parlor, when you handed me the plate of truffles.” He stepped forward, resting a hand on her sleeve. “I love you Lindy Goldfeather.”
Lindy’s eyes shot up to meet Tinder’s. A slow smile broke across her face.
“Well isn’t that special. Are you making proposals, then? Offering to save me from eternal solitude in exchange for the technology to save the town’s dome?”
“What? No, of course not. Why would you even say that?” Tinder pulled back, his boots crunching on the gravel street.
“This isn’t a love story, Tinder. We are not characters in one of your podcasts. We won’t fight until minute twenty and somehow fall madly in love in the last five minutes. I belong on my farm, and you belong in this hemmed-in southern paradise. As soon as
my grandmother is well I’m going back there.”
“Lindy, you can’t stay closed off out there forever.”
“I can so long as the charge in our dome holds out. You know as well as I do that Sasha built it to withstand nuclear winter.”
“I mean that you can’t stay isolated. You’re all alone out there.”
“I’m not alone.” Lindy said it softly, remembering the emeralds and blues of her night sky.
“Sasha could die any day, and then yes, you’ll be alone.”
“I’ve never felt as alone as I do standing next to you.” Lindy’s words were a slap in the face. Delivered gently, but with intent to leave a mark.
Fantastic work! I like the sassy, no-nonsense attitude here. The genre-busting works great.
I think we were thinking along the same lines! I love how dry your genre-busting is, it works nicely with the scene.
Great delivery on the last line. The whole conversation was very real and well-scripted but I really like what she said in the last line.
This is a prime example of how genre-savvy can make a story shine with new life and wit. Nice job.
Downton Abbey is even more amazing because it has just one writer. Julian Fellowes.
Most, if not all series are written by a cast of writers.
That’s insane. I had no idea all that dialogue and plot was coming from just one person.
He’s a good author as well. Have you read any of his stuff, Janet?
Here’s a snip-it from a story idea I have-
“How can you give up your commission for a science project?”
“Because I know my husband and son are still out there on the world we
abandoned. I am going to tear apart that Golmar ship to find a way to get to
them.” Sanna handed her letter of resignation to the Admiral.
“It’s been twenty years Sanna. They are gone. The fleet
needs you.” He handed her letter back.
“The fleet doesn’t need me. I trained them well enough. And
besides we’ve decided that we already know all we need to about these
aliens. We already decided they’re hostile and we’re going to attack them. I
don’t need to be a part of that.” The admiral sighed as he took the letter back
from Sanna. “I know in my heart my family is still out there and what I need to
do is be here. To find a way to get our ships across warp space without killing
ourselves. So I can go find them.”
After a moment of silence the Admiral’s voice filled the
void. “Thank you for your service Commander Sanna. If you get my ships past the
warp barrier without the radiation you will have your ship to go back to Eris 4.”
This is great insight, and not just because you referenced one of my favorite TV shows. While Downton Abbey is a stimulating drama, its occasional predictability can make if feel like a soap opera with good cameras. I think there should be a purposeful balance between twists and predictability in writing. Foreshadowing entices the reader to continue reading, but if you always surprise them in return, they will pick up on that pattern too. asateenwriter.blogspot.com
I agree! I’ve been reading Robert McKee’s excellent book “Story” and learning about how to satisfy the audience’s genre expectations while avoiding cliche.
I like your perspective on predictability and surprise. I agree, it does need to be the right balance.
I wondered if there would be a Downton post on the Practice this week! My mom and I had a great conversation about the show yesterday. We felt that some of the characters acted out of character and it bothered us. Everything I’ve read or seen about that time period makes me think that a family like the Grantham’s would never reject old what’s his nose that Edith wanted to marry. They would have been glad to have had a traditional, titled, wealthy man in the family and under the circumstances glad to be free of the responsibility of Edith. May – December romances and marriages weren’t uncommon at all then. So I guess my thoughts were directed more toward a story when a character or characters act outside of the nature of the genre or time period. I thought, while forgivable in a show as well liked and grand as Downton, it messed with the feel of the story a bit. Sorry if that was a bit off topic but I feel better to have gotten that off my chest!
Good point! I think the American mother-in-law eluded to this when she said that Sir Anthony had all of the qualities that the Granthams would normally admire, such as wealth and position. It also bothered me a bit that the Irishman, Tom, suddenly started wearing the “costumes of oppression” that he refused to wear in the first episode.
That’s a good point plumjoppa, I thought it was funny how all of a sudden Tom was fitting in and everyone’s ‘getting used to him’, but no one likes Sir Anthony. I also thought the letter from Lavinia’s dad was really contrived too. It seemed that our modern values were all too present. I like the idea of surprising your audience by characters nodding to their genre or acting completely contrary to it, but in Downton I want the real thing! Of course I have no problem with Matthew taking the money, Tom making friends, and Sir Anthony jilting Edith, it just needs to be for the right reason.
I agree Joe, it was too jarring. Of course with a castle as the backdrop, stunning costumes, sweeping plots and the like, in my book, those types of things can be forgiven! It’s a lesson to me that an audience may forgive if you get it wrong but only if you have a lot to barter with!
Agreed, Beck. It was a strange thing, a nod to today’s cultural values that was too jarring.
Yes, I wondered about that too, Beck. Perhaps they should have picked an actor who really did look like methuselah compared to Edith? But, instead, this actor looked like quite a good match for her.
Garrett academy’s coach watched angrily as his star player yelled “bucket” before the ball even swished through the net. He couldn’t believe the audacity of the cocky athlete. Immediately, he pointed and motioned the kid over with a skeletal, demanding finger.
“What is it, coach?” the tall student asked, barely suppressing a grin. His ears jutted out like wings. Coach Lavronsky often wondered if the boy could hear his thoughts.
“What are you doing?”
“Um… I’m winning the game.” Damon motioned to the scoreboard, 42-26 blinking merrily back at him.
“Yeah, but it’s only the beginning of the 3rd quarter.”
Damon shrugged. “So?”
Lavronsky threw up his hands. “We’re the underdogs! We’re supposed to be down then come back in the 4th quarter and win at the last second!!”
Damon squinted at the man, his face asking “are you for real?” Instead he said “Or”, the word stretching like a rubber band, followed by “we can win the game now.”
“No. That’s not how it works. You go out there and start missing some shots, DO YOU HEAR ME?” Lavronsky screamed the last words at his player. The 14-year old flinched and ran back onto the court shaking his head.
The next few minutes played out just like Jim Lavronsky had hoped. Errant pass. Missed shot. Turnover. His team began fighting with each other. It was perfect. Just as Lavronsky started rehearsing the famed fourth quarter speech that would turn his kids around, he saw Darrel Adkins, the opposing coach, sauntering in his direction.
“What are you doing?” the burly man demanded, his crooked teeth almost shifting in place.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, Lavronsky replied aloofly, hiding a smile.
“Oh no. Hell no. You are not doing this. WE are the ones coming back in the fourth quarter to pull a win. I haven’t had James here play like this just so we can come back too early” he said, motioning to a rail-thin player missing a free throw.
Lavronsky shook his head. “You’re losing on purpose? That’s pathetic.”
Adkins mouth moved, searching for a response, but he said nothing. The two stared each other down and Adkins finally turned on his heels and stomped back to his bench.
The fourth quarter saw both teams miraculously turn their sloppy games around. The lead changed hands again and again. The crowd started chanting various players’ names. Lavronsky tanned in the glory of the moment. His moment. The team was down by two but had the ball for a final shot. The clock counted down, 3….2….1. Damon threw up the ball. The entire gym leaned in and held its breath. SWISH!
Lavronsky threw off his hat and started cheering. Sure, Damon’s feet had crossed the three-point line, but Lavronsky didn’t care. He had sent the game into overtime. This scenario was even better.
Grinning, he jogged to the referee and asked about overtime rules. The referee looked back as if he was an idiot.
“This is a regular season game, coach. There is no overtime. This goes into the books as a tie.”
This was really fun to read! You really nailed the genre savviness.
Haha. It is so much more realistic with the genre-savviness! I’m sure a lot of players can relate to this.
Great job. I love how the two coaches argued over who would come back in the 4th quarter. You had me laughing, Newbie. I love that it’s a tie.
Newbie, this was fun!
Beautiful! Made my day reading this, having seen soooo many plots like this before.
I’ve been working on a piece lately and I drafted this scene for it. It’s not quite exactly how I want it yet, but I will probably use this for the story.
————-
Abby could hardly sleep that night, knowing Brent was
in the house. If the roads hadn’t been so bad, she’d be sleeping like she
normally was at two in the morning, instead of lying awake thinking about Brent
sleeping in the next room. How on earth was she supposed to sleep when she had
six feet of an extremely attractive man in her guest room? If only he hadn’t come over so late in the evening to apologize to her, they would not be in this mess. She had thought herself perfectly indifferent to the man until he’d come over, hands stuffed his pockets, and sheepishly apologized for jumping to conclusions about her and Matt. As he’d stood there, with that crooked smile, she’d felt her heart soften a little towards him. And had given in the impulse to invite him in for dinner.
Her stomach had been so full of butterflies during the meal that she’d hardly
eaten a thing. She’d found herself listening instead to the sound of his voice.
And now she was lying awake re-living the experience like some sixteen year old
after her first date.
And who the hell got snowed in their own house with the hot contractor guy anyway? Had she moved into a quiet mountain town only to find herself suddenly living the life of woman in a popular romance novel?
Get a grip, Abby thought to herself as she rolled onto the side. But the moment she
closed her eyes, all she could picture was Brent’s indigo blue eyes, recalling
how they seemed to see right into her soul. How she could easily spend the rest
of her life gazing into those intense eyes.
“I am in the middle of a romance novel,”she groaned aloud.
Bravo! I was wondering where other practitioners might go with this practice other than horror. I didn’t even *think* of romance. Well done. =]
I think this practice is easier when you are familiar with a genre. Then you know what to poke fun at 😉 Thanks for the feedback Karl.
Giulia. I love this! It makes me like Abby so much more at the last sentence.
Thanks Audrey, I added it to make the piece a bit more humorous, but now that you mention you like her better, it reminds me that characters need to someone we can connect to on some level, something I need to keep in mind as I write.
Fun reading, Giulia. Nice descriptions of what Abby is thinking
Thanks! Glad you liked it.
Xin Ti feels her body sinking slowly into the mud. If she relaxes, she knows, there’s enough buoyancy to hold her up. But she can’t afford to relax. She can’t.
The slimy gray sludge around her is bubbling, making little hisses that release a sicksharp sulphurous stink into her nose. She won’t make it through this she thinks
desperately, looking out through the cave opening at the great orb of orange
still high in the Western sky. She grabs onto the iron ring hammered into the
rock wall behind her and lifts herself up, as far away from the muck as she
can. She must hang on, she tells herself. She has to.
She closes her eyes, and waits.
She hears the other woman’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs carved into the side of the rocky mountain. She opens her eyes and sees the woman’s big muscled body outlined against the light streaming in from the evening sun.
The woman walks to the edge of the mud pool and stretches out her hand.
“It’s time,” she says in guttural English tinged with a Slavic accent..
Sin Ti sighs and lets herself be pulled out of the mud bath. She allows the masseuse to shower the healing grey mud off her and lead her to the marble table for her no holds barred Swedish massage. She can endure it, she
thinks. It’s just an assignment.
Later that night in her thousand dollar a night complimentary suite, sore but totally
relaxed, Xin Ti takes out her laptop. ‘Like a bloody James Bond movie with villains
and all,’ she’s tempted to begin. Instead she types ‘Crystal Cavern Icelandic
Spa is the place for a break, an all natural health retreat that leverages on
Iceland’s thermally heated natural hot springs and mud pools… 6 Stars.’
I like how you marked the passage of time with the imagery about the sun, and the slow realization that she’s not really in mortal peril. The muscled woman made we want to keep reading to figure our how she fit with the scene.
Thanks Plumjoppa
Brilliantly deceptive. That was awesome writing.
Ha! You got top notch description at the beginning and I LOVE your words of choice: muck, sludge, the sulfurous stink, all of it. At first I was thinking she’s stuck cliff-diving or cave exploring then turns out she’s at the spa. You really fooled me there. 🙂 Love it.
Looking back it’s kind of funny. You say, “She can’t afford to relax.” I can’t afford that kind of relaxation, either. LOL!
Audrey, I like the way you touched bases with all the senses. Way to make it real.
Great post Liz, thanks
I think that any contemporary novel, particularly genre fiction has to give at least a nod to the world around it.
It can be disingenuous to act like the characters are entirely naive of their pop culture, particularly if it enables them to do something entirely stupid, as you mentioned above (Death Forest!)
Also, i love the comments, always entertaining
cheers
Mike
I’m a junkie when it comes to detective shows, so that led to this practice:
Malone ran from her car over to the victim. A quick look at
the bullet wound and it was clear the murder weapon was a .45 handgun, just
like in the other shooting. She knew this because, well, detectives were just
good like that. Hearing footsteps off to her left, she looked over and saw a
large man, dressed all in black, pounding around the corner of a building. That
had to be the perp.
Sprinting to the corner took no effort at all, even in
heels. Malone skidded to a stop in front of what turned out to be the opening
of a dark alley. Well, not that dark, since alleys like this were always nicely
lit. A shot rang out. Malone didn’t flinch. The first shot always missed.
Making good use of the long pause between shots, she darted behind a dumpster
just as the second shot ricocheted past.
She heard footsteps again, coming closer. Crouched and ready
to spring, she waited for the guy to step around the dumpster. There he was,
just within range. Malone lunged at him and knocked the gun out of his hand.
The weapon slid conveniently out of reach, and now it was time for all that
Krav Maga training to pay off.
They started raining deadly blows on each other. Punches,
kicks, elbows, whatever. Malone smiled grimly as the fighting continued. She
knew they could keep this up all evening with only fat lips and bloody noses to
show for it. Except for that last kick to her knee, which laid her out flat on
her back. Oops. He picked up the pistol and aimed it at her. Double oops.
Before shooting, though, the man launched into a
description of how carefully he’d planned his crimes, how smart he was, all the
usual stuff. Malone heard a car squealing to a stop down the street. That had
to be her partner coming to the rescue. Heading toward this alley, which was
obviously the right one due to its nice lighting. She grinned at her attacker
as he kept talking. Plenty of time.
This made me literally LOL. Very well done! You busted every genre cliché for crime stories I think.
Haha, thanks Giulia. Glad you liked it
Now,t hat’s genre savvy, Paul, and with tongue-firmly-in-cheek it reads as a black comedy. Well done. I liked that you stayed in the pov of your protag too.
Glad you liked it, Yvette. Thanks for the kind note.
“Hi”… “I noticed you starting at me from across the room.” “My name is Kara.”
“Hi Kara… I’m Todd” “It’s funny… I was staring at you cause… well, I can’t tell what you’re thinking.” “I can usually look at most people and tell what they’re thinking.”
“That’s really strange Todd, because… when you look at me… I instantly have this desire to tell you everything.””Are you new here?”
“Ya, just moved here yesterday” “This is going to sound crazy, but… I’m a vampire and I think I’m in love with you.”
“Wow.. that is a little unexpected.”
“And Kara, I kinda sparkle in the sun… so I think maybe… we should really try and make this work.”
“Oh geez… you’re super hot …and when I just thought you wanted to maybe go on a date and hopefully make-out that seemed really promising.” “I’m just sort-of afraid of commitment and I’ve heard vampires live a really long time.” “I just don’t think I could tie myself down like that right now.”
“Oh, wow, I wasn’t expecting you to reject me or I wouldn’t have been so quick to put myself out there like this.”
“Ya sorry, don’t feel too bad though, I’m sure there are plenty of girls who’d be really into what you’re offering.” “Ok… so I’ve gotta go but take it easy alright.”
It’s really hard to tell who’s saying what. There’s no flow. It almost seems like you’re just making fun of a popular movie.
I tried to space it out in such a way that would make the dialog obvious… In the other examples that I could think of, what made characters aware of their genre was their practical/more realistic way of speaking.. “no capes etc” Thanks for the critique though.
-Lis
I’m astounded so far, this year, by how often bloggers seem to be atuned to each other this year. This is the second time in a couple of weeks that one blog has had the same theme as another. Nathan Bransford did a post this week entitled ‘what writers can learn from Downton Abbey’. It’s great, because while the themes are the same, everyone has a different view.
That’s very interesting. Actually I love it when characters know about their genre, although I’ve never applied it into my stories… yet. Great post!