Author D. M. Dutcher shares some profound thoughts on the relationship between “Geek Culture” and the American church. It’s well worth a read and even more worthy of discussion. Read it here: http://dmdutcher.com/2015/06/06/losing-the-geeks/
AMC’s Mad Men is a show a lot of people just don’t get. I wasn’t a fan from day one. In fact, the first episode I tried to watch on TV—toward the end of season 2, where Joan’s fiancé rapes her in Don’s office after-hours—was a definite turn-off for the show in general. Still, as a lover of all things retro, I couldn’t avoid the Mad Men buzz. I broke down and bought the season 1 DVD in 2009, but never even opened it (it’s still unopened, by the way). It wasn’t until I discovered Netflix in 2010 that Mad Men became a story I watched, and even then, it wasn’t love at first sight. It took almost an entire season, until the scene where Betty shot the birds, to even begin to understand that Mad Men is a show about everything you don’t see on screen and how almost nothing we do see on screen is real.
A lot of people think Mad Men is a grotesque glorification of alcoholism and adultery. Indeed, Don Draper’s illicit sex life and constant drinking takes center stage throughout much of the series. Truth is, Don Draper is a lost soul. Don’s promiscuity and self-medication is but a manifestation of how lost he is.
A lot of people are lost. A lot of people sitting in church pews are lost. A lot of people with advanced college degrees and high-paying jobs are lost.
It’s rare we see a character on television or in movies as lost as Don but with so much material togetherness. Don is wealthy. Extremely, obscenely wealthy. Lost characters are usually portrayed as bums or or slobs or aimless drifters who can’t reconcile the responsibilities of adult life with their perpetual need to remain in a child-state. Not Don Draper. Don has everything most of us want—money, a large house, expensive cars, a gorgeous spouse. Yet Don Draper has nothing, because Don Draper isn’t even Don Draper. If you’ve never seen the show, this probably doesn’t make any sense. If you don’t want spoilers, you should probably stop reading now, because spoilers are on their way en masse. Continue reading “Why I Love Mad Men (And Why I’m Sad to See It Go)”
Aristotle described story structure as such, “A whole is what has a beginning and middle and end.” As uninspiring as that may seem, this is the foundation upon which all good storytelling is built: the three-act structure.
If you’re a writer and you’ve been writing for any length of time, you’ve heard about the three-act structure ad nauseum. I can remember my kindergarten teacher going over it in class—and, while I’m thinking about it, thank you for that!—and revisiting it almost every year during school. Odds are, you’ve been exposed to it just as heavily. But how many writers really understand the three-act structure?
There’s countless writing books that expound on it. Blake Snyder may be remembered for the storytelling techniques and beat structures he proposed in Save the Cat, but in that book, he also gave a fairly concise method for outlining screenplays with index cards using the three-act structure. I believe that before any writer can make use of tools like Snyder’s beat sheet or even outline effectively, they must first understand the fundamentals of storytelling structure: the basic three-act structure.
A while back, I was fortunate enough to discover S.J. Murray’s wonderful book, THREE ACT WHAT? As a student of writing for nearly two decades, I found myself highlighting passages and taking notes like crazy.
Who is S.J. Murray? She’s an emmy-nominated screenwriter, Hollywood story consultant, and professor at Baylor University—trust me, this book is well worth reading, and it’s priced at only $4.99.
Thanks both to her generosity and the generosity of her publishers, Livingston+McKay, I have a promo code for a copy of Three Act What that to give away on Friday, July 4th, 2014. This is an interactive ebook published on the Snippet platform, and can be read in a web browser or on a tablet. Some of the best features about this book are the videos included at periodic intervals, either expanding on the subject of the chapter or expanding on the craft of writing itself.
To enter, leave a comment on this blog post, on my Facebook, or send a reply to me on Twitter—BEFORE MIDNIGHT July 3rd, 2014—telling me how a better understanding of story structure would improve your writing. The best responses will be put in a random drawing and I’ll announce a winner on Friday, July 4th, 2014. I’m seriously excited for whoever wins because I know it will help you become an even better writer.
When the Jim Carrey movie Bruce Almighty hit theaters, I thought it was the most blasphemous concept for a movie I’d ever heard. I mean, Morgan Freeman playing God? And then vacating His powers to Carrey? Yet when someone finally sat me down with a DVD copy of the film and assured me it wasn’t as blasphemous as I thought, I found that I really liked the story. I especially liked the conceit that, even though we all think we know what’s best for everyone around us, if any of us had our way all the time, it would seriously mess everything up. As a whole, people have too many conflicting interests and too many conflicting world views. Plus, the examination of free will in the film is as good as any sermon I’ve ever heard. It was the first time I ever watched a movie and came away with big questions about my own theology and worldview. The closest I can remember to experiencing this before was after reading Graham Greene’s The End of the Affair, and yes, some tiny part of my soul just died upon realizing that I’d made a favorable comparison between that masterpiece of a novel and a Jim Carrey film.
Years later, when Bruce Almighty‘s “sequel” Evan Almighty was released, I wanted to like it. I wanted to have that same experience again. Yet, as more and more marketing materials poured into the church where I was working at the time, I slowly came to realize that Evan Almighty would be nothing like Bruce Almighty.