3D Lightning
Storytelling stuff worth sharing
So how long did your leftovers last??
We finally put all the turkey to bed when Rebecca over the weekend suggested turkey-and-gravy-sandwiches on sourdough from Bread Bandits, which could be the best sourdough on the Gulf Coast, no joke.
But I’ve still got a good cup or so of brining spices in the pantry. So another bit o’ smoked bird might be a December necessity…
Storytelling Tip o’ the Week
Two weeks ago I recommended the exquisite HBO/Max series SOMEBODY SOMEWHERE and talked about teaching my students to “write in 3D.”
One of the reasons SOMEBODY SOMEWHERE is so dang good is that their fantastic writers totally write in 3D, and here’s the best example.
The main character, Samantha Miller, is deeply grieving the loss of her sister Holly to cancer. We never meet Holly. The show opens several months after Holly has passed away. We never hear Holly’s voice (except on a cassette recording of her singing as a child). We never see Holly’s face (except in a photograph taped to a mirror).
Sam is living in Holly’s house, because—as we come to learn—she came home to take care of her sister in the final days.
We also come to learn that Holly loved lightning bolts. We are never told this. Lightning bolts are never discussed. No character ever comments on lightning bolts. But check it out…
Scratched into the wood of the beloved family upright piano, there’s a little lightning bolt next to HM, initials for “Holly Miller,” though that also is never explicitly stated; you just gotta figure it out.
In the kitchen, there is a purple lightning bolt neon lamp. No one ever points at it. No one ever asks about it or talks about it. It’s simply there. A decoration Holly found and bought—or maybe it was a gift, but we’re never told, and it honestly doesn’t matter. It simply and subtly glows softly in the background as Sam putters around the kitchen.
Sam always wears the same two necklaces. Both of them have little lightning bolt pendants. We come to understand that Sam and her sister must’ve gotten them at the same time, or perhaps Holly gifted one to Sam and kept one for herself. Again, the backstory is never explicitly offered. But Sam always wears both, in obvious memory of her sister.
There’s even a t-shirt Sam occasionally wears that has a bright lightning bolt emblazoned on the front. I’d bet you a hundred bucks that if we were able to interrogate the writers and designers, they’d say, “Yep, that’s one of Holly’s shirts.”
Again—and I cannot emphasize this enough—these lightning bolts are NEVER TALKED ABOUT. They are never pointed at. They are never explained. They simply exist. They are a symbol of Holly, a character invisible to us who is yet three-dimensionalized by the presence of these little lightning bolts.
Here’s what else we gain from these writers writing (and designers designing) in 3D.
When Sam has a falling out with a friend, the lockscreen on her phone changes. We barely even get a glance of this, but instead of a picture of her friend making a funny face, we suddenly see a picture of the purple neon lightning bolt. A tiny, 3D detail that drives home the depth of the hurt between Sam and her friend.
Those two lightning bolt necklaces? There’s a moment when Sam learns a hard truth about her sister. Holly had kept a secret from Sam, and Sam is devastated by this discovery. There follows a wordless, aching scene of Sam in Holly’s house, fighting like hell not to cry and angrily taking off the two necklaces. It’s a gut punch of a scene, because the act of taking off those necklaces—which Sam has worn in every moment of every episode up to that point—speaks VOLUMES. How much pain does it take for you to remove the essence of your sibling from yourself?
And you know what you then get when you take those necklaces off? You get to write another scene a couple episodes later. Another wordless scene where Sam, having worked through this betrayal, having come to a new understanding of her relationship with her sister, having learned the power of forgiveness, puts the necklaces back on.
This is the power of writing in 3D, of welcoming the material and sensual world into your storytelling, of conveying information implicitly and trusting the intelligence and eagerness of the audience rather than relying on explicit exposition.
Ugh. Is there anything worse in a story than on-the-nose exposition??
Write in 3D. Leave little lightning bolts here and there. Don’t explain them. Trust them.
The Page&Stage Podcast
Don’t miss the captivating journey of playwright and author Dan Landon, who started as an actor/waiter fearing he would starve to an exceptional Broadway Theater Manager. From his one-night stint on Broadway to his shift into theater management, Dan shares delightful anecdotes about auditions, backstage dramas, and the real-life implications of managing a theater on the Great White Way.
Quotable
Thanks to Dan Landon (the podcast guest mentioned above!) for sharing this quote with me last week.
On November 29, Marshall Brickman passed away. Mr. Brickman was an Oscar-winning screenwriter and director, and co-wrote the book for the smash musical hit Jersey Boys.
He once said…
It has always been my dream to be surrounded on my deathbed by my children and their accountants. Thanks to Jersey Boys, that will happen now.
Zing! Rest in peace, Marshall.
Thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend!
Jason “Neon Lightning” Cannon