Why Characters in Horror Movies Investigate Creepy Sounds in the Basement
And why that means you should embrace uncertainty
But First: This Week in Nonfiction You Couldn’t Write as Fiction
Sometimes true stories are so crazy that they would never work as fiction because they wouldn’t be believable. I watched a short documentary this week that may not fully reach that level, but it’s pretty close.
The Title: Long Shot
The Length: 40 minutes
The Premise: The only hope of an alibi for a guy wrongfully charged with murder is raw footage from an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm that was filming in the crowd at a Dodger’s game.
The “Wait, For Real?” Factor: 9.5/10
Let’s Get Uncertain
I was watching a TV show recently where the main character wakes up in a strange town from which he can’t seem to escape. Now, it’s not surprising that he would try to get out, but as I kept watching, it seemed like he was rushing things.
I’m no stranger to vocalizing my thoughts toward the glass teat (as Stephen King has called it), so I almost literally wondered aloud why he kept running toward half-baked solutions for which he hadn’t even spent much time weighing the pros and cons. If it were me, I’d have stopped by the store, picked up some snacks, and mentally ran through the scenarios—probably for days or weeks.
And that’s why no one is watching my story on TV. My life is the most boring when I’m doing exactly what I thought he should be doing: Hesitating. Waiting. Stalling. Anxiously anticipating consequences to choices not yet made. Avoiding uncertainty.
By moving forward amidst uncertainty, characters keep stories interesting. That’s why the guy in his boxers ventures into the basement to investigate the scary sounds instead of calling the cops. That’s why Michael Scott moves forward with so many questionable management ideas. That’s why the big-city lawyer wastes no time pursuing a relationship with the small-town bakery owner.
Okay, but what do I do with this?
My favorite movie of all time is Stranger than Fiction. (At least at the moment. I reserve the right to claim a different all-time fav next time I rewatch Fast Five or Peanut Butter Falcon or Hunt for the Wilderpeople.) Anyway, it’s about an unambitious IRS agent named Harold (Will Ferrell) who begins to hear a voice that narrates his life. After Harold learns from the narrator that his death is imminent, he seeks help from a literature professor to learn more about story—hoping there is a way to save his life.
One of the lessons the professor teaches Harold is about how plots move forward (and consequently a story becomes meaningful).
Some plots are moved forward by external events and crises. Others are moved forward by the characters themselves.
So, If you’re living a story that feels boring or meaningless, walk through a door—literally. Take a step into uncertainty. Or choose to embrace some uncertainty that has befallen you (obviously easier said than done, but no less true).
If you’re writing a fictional story that doesn’t seem to grab your attention, push your character into uncertainty and give their journey more bumps.
If you’re writing nonfiction that feels like a dull journal entry, find moments of uncertainty and build the story around those.
Sentence of the Week
Donald Miller’s book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years never really gets put away in my house. It’s well marked and frequently read. It’s about how to live a better story, and I have to actively stop myself from sharing blurbs from it in each newsletter. But I caved this week because he has a great sentence that explains one of the reasons we avoid moving toward uncertainty.
I didn’t want to get well, because while I could not control my happiness, I could control my misery, and I would rather have had control than live in the tension of what if.
Thanks for reading.
Braden