Grappling with Hooks

"Each time, storytellers clothed the naked body of the myth in their own traditions, so that listeners could relate more easily to its deeper meaning." - Joan D. Vinge

Puppies are irresistible. A cliché, maybe, but one that’s hard to argue. When you spot a rumbling, tumbling ball of frolicking fur, you can’t resist. Even if you don’t like dogs. Puppies are powerful magnets that draw you against your will b/c the pull is beyond your ability to resist.

Why? There’s the cuteness factor, but the underlying vulnerability and unconditional love complicate matters. They generate conflict, soften the hardest of stone cold cynics, and punch holes through the barrier of cliché to capture the rational mind within.

That’s what a good story hook does. I’m wrestling with this in my current wip (work-in-progress), so it’s near and dear to my heart. Since hook is the launching pad for all other story elements, it helps to get it right. It sells your idea and attracts readers. It’s the warm furry coat encasing all that boundless energy and eagerness into a package that is both universal and unique.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer had a distinct hook. California teen loves clothes and slays vampires. You can almost guess that from the title. What you may not guess? The girl behind the myth is as defenseless to the human condition as the next gal.

Joss Whedon, the creator of Buffy, took the classic horror movie moment – the flailing, falling, female victim – and flipped it upside down. In Whedon’s universe, the girl does not collapse in a heap at the monster’s feet. She pivots, blocks, and delivers a roundhouse kick that can topple a one car garage. The ultimate powerpuff girl with fashion flare. Gidget, the next generation.

Finally! A teen role model a mother can get behind.

Buffy is no Rhodes Scholar but she’s nobody’s dumb blonde, either. On the surface, she’s like any transplanted teen. She relocates to a new town, leaves behind all her friends, and struggles to remake herself at a new high school. Every kid’s nightmare. But a universal one.

With two, tiny exceptions. One, the town, Sunnydale, is located over a Hellmouth. That’s pretty unique in my experience. Two, a stranger appears on her sixteenth birthday to give her the news all teenagers long to hear – she’s a superhero! But – and there’s always a but - she will spend the rest of her life fighting evil. And no one can know. Not even her mother. Stuck with the worse vocation since Obi Wan Kenobi and she can’t tell a soul.

Buffy rejects it immediately, but providence crashes the party. She corners a gang of vampires inside her old high school gym and burns it to the ground. She can’t explain this to the principal, her mom, or her dad. They think Gidget’s gone postal. Her parents’ marriage crumbles and Buffy’s mom resettles in Sunnydale for a fresh start…

…over the Hellmouth. The school librarian turns out to be a watcher, the man charged with training Buffy in the fine art of staying alive. He’s a proper British encyclopedia of all things that go bump in the night: demons, werewolves, zombies, incubi, succubi. Buffy can’t run away fast enough. In fact, she spends most of the first season ducking her destiny, but is constantly sucked back in b/c there’s no one who can do what she can do.

Complications. The best hook opens the door and invites conflict in.

She makes friends. Friends she’d rather not see turned into vampire cat toys. She grows fond of her father figure watcher. She can’t sit back and let demons have their due. They’ll eat everyone she cares about. Or worse – transform them into blood-sucking fiends.

The show is steeped in mythology, but it’s the human element that grips the audience. Like all superheroes, Buffy must hide her identity, but the way it’s done prevents story from descending into cliché. Safeguarding this secret - a whopper for any teenage girl – compounds her life, undermining her relationship with her mother. Buffy is forced to make choices she can’t defend, cutting classes during the day and breaking curfew at night.

She gets what every kid gets in that situation. Grounded.

Hard to save the world when you’re grounded. And a subtle reminder that Buffy’s still a girl, one who wants what every girl wants - to fit in, be accepted. Normal. Something she will never be.

Yanks the puppy heartstrings, doesn’t it? That’s what a good hook does - zeroes in on a universal theme then juices it up with the fresh squeezed fruit of characterization. Buffy loves her mom, sweats her grades, longs for approval. A human trapped inside a superhuman body.

This is no ‘monster of the week’ show. The question is never, “What new creepy crawly will Buffy face?” It’s, “What does she need to learn to survive? Why now?”

The hook is the ultimate teenage metaphor – high school is hell - where each new monster symbolizes another challenge in the march to adulthood: peer pressure, accountability, facing fears, the heartache of unpopularity. The list is endless, fascinating, and relevant.

And all circle back to the hook. Why does this work? Character development. A stereotype (sunny, blonde valley girl) turned on its head (vampire slayer) and littered with heart (family, friends, self-esteem issues), muscle (preternatural powers), and location (Southern California), location (high school), location (Hellmouth).

Grappling with a hook? Take a stereotype, twirl it in an unexpected direction, layer it with flesh and bone, and set it in an unlikely place. Then see where it takes you.

On a personal aside, it's my sister's birthday. Happy Birthday, Rita!

Introduction

"Begin with the end in mind." - Kathy Clark

Welcome. This is my inaugural entry into blogging. I’m an unpublished romance writer. I’m not trying to command an influential, worldwide audience or publish breaking news. I’m just trying to hone my writing skills when I’m stumped creatively. If you learn something along the way, that's icing on the cake.

I’m in my forties and the sad fact is, I’m in my forties. I can’t put it any more eloquently than that.

Writing is all about revealing character. I’ll try to reveal something about myself in every entry, along with nuggets of craft I’ve picked up along the way. I can’t promise I’ll do this daily and I think you’ll thank me for that in the long run.

Why a blog? Because there just aren’t enough of them out there. Truthfully, I stumbled across the blog of Jane Espenson, a seriously savvy television writer. I’m a dedicated Joss Whedon fan and Jane was on staff at Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I learned tons about character and story from the Whedon-verse, including some fascinating insights from Jane’s blog.

Check it out. I recommend it, no matter what writing medium you pursue. She targets the nuts and bolts of script writing, but so much of it is relevant to craft – character, dialogue, humor. You can’t go wrong. Plus she’s layers of funny.

To get an idea what inspires me, check out the sidebar for some of my favorite things. If these don’t work for you, it’ll save you a lot of time. I won’t list dislikes, but I have to be honest - I don’t like mushrooms. I can’t eat fungus, I’m sorry. If that’s a deal-breaker, I’ll understand.

Since TV is the theme, let’s start there. The best shows are those that emphasize character in terms of hook. The hook draws us in, but characterization keeps us thirsting for more.

Several successful 90’s sitcoms centered on characters living in the big city – Friends, Seinfeld, and Sex in the City come to mind - but it was the characters’ evolving emotional life that had people tuning in. The ha-has were great, but they were reactions to their urban situations, and those reactions revealed something about character.

For a bigger dramatic payoff, take Angel. This spinoff of Buffy the Vampire Slayer featured a vampire with a soul who moves to Los Angeles to help people while seeking salvation for his “vampire without a soul” past. The soul angle freshens the vampire hook and guarantees a moral struggle with every person – or creature - he encounters, good and bad.

In a fifth season episode, “Just Rewards”, Angel has been handed the reins of the law firm, Wolfram & Hart, and decides to use their extensive resources to continue the good fight. He elects to fire an undesirable client. Spike, another vampire, tags along for the sacking. They’ve always had a contentious relationship, but Angel’s unique status as “vampire with a soul” is challenged b/c Spike has a soul, too.

Why is this an issue now? Angel only recently learned of Spike’s spiritual enhancement. He’s astonished and not a little intimidated. When Spike complains Angel has this empire at his disposal while Spike has been transformed into a lousy ghost after surrendering himself to save the world - how’s that fair? - Angel retorts: “Fair? You asked for a soul. I didn't. It almost killed me. I spent a hundred years trying to come to terms with infinite remorse. You spent three weeks moaning in a basement, and then you were fine! What's fair about that?” *

Big reveal in contrast - Angel was cursed with a soul, Spike asked for one. We know this entering the episode, but we don’t know Angel’s reaction until now. It’s speaks directly to his internal conflict, neatly linking back to the episode’s title – not to mention the show’s hook. Both characters feel unjustly served by sacrifices they’ve made on their journey for redemption. What is just rewards, then? How is justice earned? Or is it? It also plants a new story question. Spike is not only strong enough to seek a soul, but pay the consequences with relative ease. What does that say about Angel? Who’s the hero now?

Why do we care? Infinite remorse. Those two words evoke a boatload of empathy. Remorse is universal. Infinite punches up the ‘ouch’ factor. And the inequality of one hundred years versus three weeks – well, that would sink sinner and saint alike.

The premise was not, “How does Angel feel about Spike’s new soul?” Angel’s goal is to fire an evil client. A fairly straightforward decision. With unforeseen emotional consequences. The client is understandably unhappy and convinces Spike to double-cross Angel. Or does he? The line between hero and villain is blurred, almost redefined at times. Angel is forced to confront this truth and re-examine his path in life. Instead of getting clearer, it gets a whole lot murkier.

Romance writers must capture the emotional heart of story through premise. A story is about a character seeking a goal. The romance is not the goal. It’s the thing that gets in the way of the goal. Maybe not the only thing, but it’s definitely a monster obstacle.

I’ve personally struggled with this concept in the past and found analyzing well written episodic TV a great help. Premise is easy to detect. It’s external. The emotional heart is internal. And it’s what sells books. So do hooks, but that’s a topic for another day.

During your down time, watch one of your favorite shows and see if you can catch the reason this episode was written. Not the premise, but the emotional heart. What is revealed about character? Why now? And most important – why did you care?

* Dialogue from ‘Just Rewards’ teleplay by David Fury and Ben Edlund