Author: Valerie Woods

In a previous post, I wrote about what indie authors could learn from indie filmmakers. As my writing often alternates between writing novels and screenplays, there are also screenwriting tools that can assist novelists.

One of the most valuable “oh, I get it!” moments studying with screenwriting mentor, Syd Field (1935-2013), was the first time Syd spoke about his groundbreaking Paradigm. More specifically – Syd stated that the first thing needed to begin was to know the end. As a young writer, this was a bit of a surprise.

At the time, my writing process was something like “wow, this is a good idea! The character would be this, they would do this and there would be a love interest, and they work at something amazing, etc. etc.” Dialogue and scenes would sprout and I’d write them down and generally let the story tell me what it was. Which is not such a terrible thing… at first. Getting the first flush of inspiration out and onto the page as quickly as possible is important, because I am so easily distracted.

However, there always came the time when I’d have to stop and ask, “so where does it all end?” Where am I going with this story? What is the resolution? And that’s when I go back to the Syd Field Paradigm and the four things the writer needs to know to begin writing:

The End
The Beginning
Plot Point I
Plot Point II

As Syd also explained in the seminar I first attended, writing a screenplay is a lot like planning a vacation. Rarely does anyone just show up at the airport and take whatever flight is next. If they do, I bet there’s a really good story in there somewhere! However, in order to know what to pack, how much money you’ll need, where you’ll sleep, etc. you need to know your destination. You’ll want to pack sandals, perhaps when going to India rather than, say ski boots.

The Paradigm is a road map to get you started. And, like any great adventure, there’s no telling if everything will go according to plan. It’s like that old proverb: “If you want to make God laugh, go ahead and make plans.” Just as unexpected excursions and detours make for really good road trips, the writer is free to go on an interesting tangent and not lose sight of the main plot because the Paradigm is a fluid guide that allows for inspiration and imagination, with landmarks to get you back on track.

For instance, just because you said Plot Point One was when the character woke up from a coma, doesn’t mean it has to stay that way. As you write toward the plot point, you might find that maybe the character stays in the coma and someone who was supposed to be a minor character has to step up and fulfill a great destiny. But I believe you wouldn’t have come to that point had there been no destination in which you were heading.

For me, having a story point to write toward gets the process going, even if it turns out I don’t end up there.

Using the Paradigm has saved me from writer’s block and out-of-control subplots. And, the bonus to this screenwriting Paradigm is that it has also worked when I write novels and television shows.

It’s ok to write down inspiration even if you don’t have a clear vision of where it’s going. But once the flash of inspiration has expended its fire, it’s time to invoke the craft of writing. It is the craft of story structure that provides the foundation through which inspiration is woven.

In Syd’s book The Screenwriter’s Workbook he states: “You must know what the resolution of your story line is. I don’t necessarily mean the specific scene or sequence at the end of the screenplay but what happens to resolve the dramatic conflict. If you don’t know the ending of your story, who does?”

You are the guide on this journey and in order to reach the destination, the first thing to know as you anchor those flashes of inspiration and begin the trek home is… where does it all end?

posted by Valerie C. Woods
on January, 15

A strong woman, Mrs. Mary E. Jones Parrish, wrote the book on the following event. This is my summary of those events.

Once upon a time, a group of black protesters who were against mob rule, set out to support their local sheriff in protecting a young prisoner from being lynched. It was a time when open carry of firearms was legal. Many of the black protesters were veterans of The Great War. They were proud citizens who felt it was their right to step forward and maintain the peace and the rule of law.

They were rightfully concerned, because just nine months earlier, a white mob had taken a white prisoner from custody and lynched him. The crowd of white citizens was so large the police directed traffic to allow the extra-legal execution to take place without interference. However, once mob “justice” had been served, the crowd surged forward to rip souvenirs from the corpse.

This was the mentality facing the protesters of this time and place – 1921, Tulsa, Oklahoma. If the authorities chose not to protect one of its white citizens from a lynch mob, what hope was there for a black citizen without support from his community?

However, the white mob surrounding the courthouse was incensed that these black citizens would question their actions. Who were they to stand and voice an opinion? By noon the following day, this white mob organized and executed the largest riot against a black community in the history of our nation. With guns, fire and bombs, the once prosperous community known as Greenwood, the Black Wall Street, was pillaged and burned until it resembled a bombed-out village from the recent war in Europe.

Those black citizens who survived, including Mrs. Jones Parrish and her daughter, were rounded up and placed into detention camps. Martial law was declared. These black citizens could only be released through the authority of a white citizen. Men, women, children.

No one from that white mob ever served time for these crimes. In fact, the official grand jury blamed the destruction on the black protesters for daring to come forward, stating that propaganda had been: “accumulative in the minds of the negro which led them as a people to believe in equal rights, social equality and their ability to demand the same” – Tulsa World, June 26, 1921, p. 8. A message had been sent and the grand jury condoned it.

I was drawn to tell this story now in light of current events.

When a (white) front runner in the 2016 presidential campaign says to his supporters, in response to (primarily black) protesters, “I love the old days. You know what they used to do to guys like that when they were in a place like this? They’d be carried out in a stretcher, folks.” we need to talk about the “old days” to which he refers. Further, this same front runner now predicts that if he does not get the GOP nomination, there will be riots.

There is a well-known cautionary statement: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” (Charles Santayana, The Life of Reason, 1905).

Here we are in the 21st century, and it seems there is an existing segment of our country who do remember the past and are really eager to repeat it.

This year, Memorial Day weekend 2016, marks the 95th anniversary of “the old days.” A survivor and strong woman of that period, Mrs. Mary E. Jones Parrish, wrote the first book to detail the tragedy, based on her experience and the testimony of other survivors.
#WorldStory16 http://tulsahistory.org/learn/online-…

posted by Valerie C. Woods
on March, 20

Valerie C. Woods – Author, Publisher/Editor, Writing Coach, Writer/Producer

Have you heard? Apparently there’s a “War On Christmas” – who knew? Don’t say Happy Holidays! This is Christmas time, we celebrate Christ, see his name is right there in the name of the holiday, so stop trying to take Christ out of Christmas. Stop being oppressive about our Christian holy day!

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been a big fan of Christmas. Of course, especially when I was a child. No school, pretty lights, presents under the tree, midnight candlelight services… I can even sing ‘O come all ye faithful’ in Latin (thanks to Nat King Cole’s essential Christmas album and 2 years of Latin in high school).

The story of Mary and Joseph, the Three Kings, the star visible by day and by night – all of it sparked a delicious wonder, mystery and beauty into urban life on the south side of Chicago. And don’t get me started on the movies! The list is long.

But even as a child back in the 20th century there was talk of the commercialization of the holiday, just watch Miracle on 34th Street, released in 1947. And then when retailers started abbreviating Christmas with ‘Xmas’, the rumbling began.

Nowadays, as many people around the world, and most especially in the United States, acknowledge that there are other religious and cultural celebrations at this same time, all of a sudden it’s being interpreted by some Christians as a “war.” By simply daring to recognize that there are also non-Christian celebrations happening in December, (you know being inclusive) it’s a war against Christmas – as if others are infringing on an imagined Christian trademark on this particular time of year.

But let’s take a step back for a minute. The general opinion is that the United States was founded as a Christian country. You know Pilgrims, right? We celebrate in November; the first Thanksgiving and all. But have you ever noticed we never see anything about the first Pilgrim Christmas?

Well, there’s a funny thing about those grateful Pilgrims who settled in America. They BANNED CHRISTMAS!!!

Yes, the Pilgrims actually outlawed the holiday! Celebrating Christmas was illegal and those caught making merry were fined or jailed! Now that was a real war on Christmas. A simple check of Wikipedia can start your research: “The Puritan community found no Scriptural justification for celebrating Christmas, and associated such celebrations with paganism and idolatry.“

They’re not the only ones. Early Christians, and I’m speaking of the first few hundred years of Christianity, did not celebrate birthdays. Catholic theologian Origen of Alexandria wrote:

“…of all the holy people in the Scriptures, no one is recorded to have kept a feast or held a great banquet on his birthday. It is only sinners (like Pharaoh and Herod) who make great rejoicings over the day on which they were born into this world.”

(Go ahead, thank Wikipedia with a small donation. It’s the holidays! And it’s tax-deductible.)

In fact, it is ironic in the extreme that any contemporary Christian complains about a so-called war on Christmas, considering that Christmas itself is theorized to have been a “war” against paganism. A fascinating book to read is The Battle for Christmas by Stephen Nissenbaum.

In my novella, I Believe: A Ghost Story for the Holidays, Ramsay, a cynical and bitter widower, rants at his co-workers in the faculty lounge:

“Don’t talk to me about Christmas. If you’re interested in winter solstice debauchery, let me know. Otherwise don’t involve me in this fantasy world created by the church.”

His fellow teachers admonished him as a Scrooge, which only set him off.

“See, see, there you go. Dickens is the main culprit, him and Washington Irving practically invented Christmas as you know it today. Irving invented “ancient traditions” and Dickens wrote a quick story to pay some bills.”

“Come on, Ram. 2,000 years of tradition can’t be all wrong.”

“No, no…not 2,000 years. The first 300 years after his death nobody, nobody celebrated his birth. The early church focused on Passover and Easter. No, it wasn’t until Pope Julius had the bright idea to claim the winter solstice festival from the pagans to distract them from celebrating Saturnalia and the birth of Mithra… I mean, even the Puritans knew better than to get sucked into celebrating Christmas. It was outlawed in Boston! But then the marketers got hold of the idea and boom – Christmas shopping season ads were born, Christmas cards, designed so people would use the new postal service, by the way – and get this – Jesus wasn’t even born in December!”

A small, timid woman puffed up the nerve to respond. “Are you saying Christ was never born?”

“No, of course not. But he was probably born in the spring or maybe the fall, otherwise, shepherds, the first to witness this birth, wouldn’t be out with their sheep in mid-winter! That’s when they killed them for fresh meat. The 25th was celebrated long before Christ was born. With drinking, feasting, sex and rock and roll. Now that’s what I call a party! You have something like that, count me in.”

And on that note, he stalked out with his coffee. As an afterthought, he poked his head back in…

“And don’t get me started on Kwanzaa. Just do your research. You’re teachers, do the research… Ron Everett – re-named himself Karenga. Go on. Look it up. Invented. Made up. Just like Christmas. All this stuff invented to make you obediently spend money and feel guilty.”

Of course, like any holiday (including Christmas) story worth its salt, Ramsay has a change of heart, thanks to a spiritual intervention from his deceased wife. But that’s not my point.

There is no current war on Christmas! No one is trying to ban it, outlaw it, or eradicate it. What’s happening is a shift of awareness that recognizes this period of celebration as a universal human expression. And to be blunt, no one religion or culture “owns” this time of year. And anyone ranting about a “war on Christmas” might want to extend that most Christmassy of tenets and share the joy of human kindness and goodwill toward all.
I Believe…A Ghost Story for the Holidays

posted by Valerie C. Woods
on December, 08

The post War On Christmas? appeared first on Valerie C. Woods.

This story was first published in the July 2010 issue of Ebony Magazine.

There was only one day during summer vacations in the mid-1960’s, that I was happy to wake up early. That was the day in August when Mom got us out of bed in the pre-dawn light for The Family Road Trip. My father loved the open road and exploring sights unseen. We all got to share in his adventures.

In the weeks before the journey Mom would sew summer outfits for us girls. The night before, we laid out our clothes and went to bed early, excitement making it hard to get to sleep. But we were up before the sun because Daddy wanted to hit the road before morning traffic. A quick breakfast, leave the dishes – we didn’t even have to make our beds. And then the car or camper or whatever we had that year, was loaded up, the windows open to the August dawn and we were off, leaving the south side of Chicago behind.

Mom was the navigator. Dad the driver. I was the youngest with two older sisters and our brother, the eldest. The Dan Ryan Expressway would be nearly empty, as if the road belonged only to us.

During my childhood we traveled east to Niagara Falls and the New York Expo and north to Montreal, Canada. But it is the trips out west that I remember most.

Such wide-open spaces and majestic peaks! Mt. Rushmore. The Painted Desert. The Grand Canyon. And finally California – Fisherman’s Wharf, my first time seeing the Pacific Ocean and tasting fresh shrimp cocktail. Then south to Disneyland, where us kids were left to ourselves, with bunches of tickets in hand, while our parents stayed at the camper for some peace and quiet to celebrate their anniversary.

Mom was always a great cook, but the meals when camping were beyond compare. Bacon and eggs just taste better when cooked outdoors. And at night, we’d eat by the light of kerosene lamps and play endless card games. Away from the city it was family time under western skies, desert breezes, crickets and coyotes, and the time my older sister tried to let the bear cub in the backseat of the car at Yellowstone National Park, which we always called Jellystone in honor of Yogi Bear.

But it was the open road, the seemingly never-ending ribbon of highway that stretched before us in the dawn, or the western setting sun, or driving toward a rain cloud on the horizon, cruising through the storm and leaving it behind into a burst of sunshine, or brilliant rainbows across a mountain waterfall.
We found adventure and peace in the national parks and the happiest place on earth, during a period when the country was going through upheaval and turmoil.

Thanks to my father’s sense of exploration he gave us the experience of the freedom offered by a full tank of gas, a map and the joy of the open road stretching out into the long horizon of a summer day.

www.valeriecwoods.com

posted by Valerie C. Woods
on August, 11