In storytelling, there are many techniques to add depth to a character, a scene, or overall spine of a story. A lot of what is said in dialogue can hint to each character’s main trait, a trait defined as affecting the world they see. A woman is going to see the world differently than a man. An assertive/aggressive man will see a world as his oyster, where an unconfident one will see himself a victim. So actions and dialogue must coincide with those traits.

A way to bring a certain level of depth into the spine of a story was illustrated well in a movie called SEVEN SAMURAI. All of the samurai were killed by firearm. Though, it wasn’t indicated in the movie where someone said, “Hey, Bro. All our Samurai brothahs got whacked by firearms.” It was shown and spoke to how times were changing and the need for samurai was dying. We see this capped off at the end when the samurai left the village they helped defend. The villagers paid little attention as the samurai walked off into the horizon. Most audience members, including myself, wouldn’t have noticed. The effect is to play on a subconscious level.

I’d received a call from an old friend and was told that I had been blacklisted from my former martial arts school. That my name was removed from a list of honored. I wondered if that was a mistake and thought back.  And here is where storytelling came into play.

At the school, after each teacher reached a certain level, the master called them by their first name. Being a formal school, everyone bowed and went by Mr. This and Ms. That. Once I reached that level, I was still referred to as Mr. Ng. Along the front of the school hung a line of pictures of the most esteemed. In the center, the master.  If you know the game musical chairs, then you should be familiar with the game the master played. Those most loyal, most accomplished, most respected found their picture closest to the center. Those who thought outside of the box had left the school due to creative differences. Their pictures moved further away from the center, or removed. Can you guess where my picture went?

As I logged into my site, I noticed that my one of my posts received a lot of comments.  I said to myself, “Wow. I haven’t seen those names in a long time.” People from the school. Those are the loyal, accomplished, esteemed.

Being purposefully blacklisted feels kinda cool. And their actions are very telling. They always talk about not having egos, taught that egos can get in the way.

But when a confident person is accused of something, something that they’re not, they should remain silent. If you’re confident that you’re not a table, and someone accuses you of being a table, would you argue that you’re not a table?

Now, I fully believe in what I said in that post. But I didn’t name anyone or my formal school in anyway shape or form. So what does that say when students from that school come to argue against a post written about them? That what I said hit a nerve. And being blacklisted was done on purpose, which I totally accept as I had removed myself from that school many years ago.

I had just gotten some feed back from a friend who is an avid reader.  And one of the things that was interesting were the questions she’d written on post it notes, placed along the pages of my book.

She had immediately asked questions about what certain things looked like, questions about the culture of my fantasy world, time line, etc. All of this within the first few pages.

There’s a couple ways I can take this. A writer should always ignite questions within a reader’s mind.  That’s a good thing. Create interest.  Reward them by giving the answers or enough to at least spark debates like the movie Inception.

A writing example would be the Davinci Code. Robert Langdon always comes across plot elements that forces us, and him, to ask questions. Why was he called to aid in a murder investigation?  He’s symbologist and the victim has a symbol carved into his chest. Did he do it?  We only met him when he got the call to help, so we’re not sure.  But we find he didn’t because of the victim’s granddaughter. She confirms the French sergeant is trying to pin the crime on Langdon . Who’s the nameless teacher?  We find out at the climax.

On and on with the questions but we eventually find out the answers.

So am I saying I’m just as great a writer as Dan Brown?

As I’ve lent my book out to people, they first see the book as not published and, therefore, not done by a professional.  They’re judging the book not by it’s cover but by it’s credibility.  As a result, they’re not patient enough to let their questions answer themselves, as I’ve made sure to do.

If she had placed the post it notes late in the book, then there would have been storytelling issues I would need to fix.  You can have certain questions linger on, like leaving the butler did it till the climax. Questions that either build the world or help move the plot along should be answered as we move along.

When we look at The Road by Cormac McCarthy, a post apocalyptic novel, we can’t help but ask questions of time, setting, and what brought this disaster? But they’re not answered.  I assume because McCarthy only wants the reader to focus on the father and the son, letting us be the judge of what brought the “flash”. But would my friend question him?  Probably not. McCarthy is, after all, a Pulitzer Prize winning novelist.

So perception is key, and I did ask her to just read it and tell me if she enjoyed it. She said she did, but the post it notes stopped abruptly. Either her questions got answered or she didn’t finish the book. Knowing her, she didn’t finish. And I’m all right with that.  I can’t make everybody happy. I can only make me happy.

And no.  I can’t compare myself to Brown. How can one perfect cherry blossom be better than another?

A fellow writer and I were talking about flash backs.  Flash backs takes us back to a time before the current moment of the story, be it novel, TV show, film, etc.  And, as this zombie dog growls, there’s a guideline in storytelling that states don’t use them.

The reason is simple.  The threat of death to the character having the flashback is removed.  Makes sense. Makes even more sense when the reader/audience is supposed to be connected to the main character, the heroine.  We see a lot of supporting characters die.  Rarely do we see the main character die before the climax.

Then the hero can die.  Otherwise, who will finish the story?

The problem is exacerbated when we’re reading a series, watching Showtime’s Dexter (I watched four seasons knowing Dexter wasn’t gonna die), or a movie franchise.

But can flashbacks work?  Yes.  Here are some examples:

Pulp Fiction

Memento

Slumdog Millionaire

Pulp Fiction shows pieces of the story out of order.  And we don’t know who to really support or connect to until the pieces start to fall together like when loyalties form between enemies Butch Coolidge, Bruce Willis, and Marsellus Wallace, Ving Rhames.  Where before we were rooting for Butch to get outta there before Marsellus Wallace gets to his ass.  Then a cop has Marsellus Wallace’s ass, literally, after being kidnapped.  Butch is about to escape but decides to save Marsellus Wallace’s ass, literally.  And at the end of that scene, we feel for both characters.

Memento directed by Jonathan Nolan, Batman Begins and The Dark Knight, was critically acclaimed and has a cult following.  Basically, it shows the movie from end to beginning because the main character has short term memory loss.  A piece of genus.  Here, the end scene shows someone shot, but we don’t know who.  And as we watch the story barrel to the beginning, we’re in anticipation of who died and what happened.

I loved Slumdog Millionaire.  Talk about a sleeper hit!  Most of the movie depends on flashbacks.  But the goal is to figure out whether Jamal Malik, played by Dav Patel, was cheating.  As we go along for the ride, tension rises because of the things that happen to Jamal, and whether the supporting characters will live.  Some do.  Some don’t.

So do flashbacks work?  Hell yeah.

Just as long it serves the story.

Do you know any other movies, shows, or books that depend on flashbacks?  How about any movies, shows, or books that have the main character die before the climax?