Thinking Outside the Bubble

“Wicked”  brings a new perspective to going green.

We went to see Wicked on its final night at Spokane’s INB Performing Arts Center. It was thoroughly entertaining, but I’m not posting a review. Rather, I want to address the writing lesson offered by this fresh twist on an old classic (or, more accurately, classics – L. Frank Baum’s Oz books as well as the iconic film they inspired) in regard to point of view [POV].

The original tale was told mostly from Dorothy’s perspective. The witch characters barely grew beyond the outlines of stereotype. Glinda, the good witch, was good. Elphaba, the wicked witch, was well … wicked.

But in Wicked, the witches take center stage. Dorothy isn’t even referenced until late in the second act, and then only as a conflict device. This switch to the witches’ perspective, viewed from bubble and broom, represents a dynamic change in the story’s POV. As the tale of Glinda and Elphaba unfolds, good and evil are on display, not as flat attributes of transparent roles, but as intriguing and often conflicting elements of nearly every character on stage.

What does this have to do with writing fiction? It illuminates the value of considering all your characters’ dimensions, both major and minor. Sometimes a cab driver is just a cab driver, but that doesn’t mean we can’t learn something from them as our main character gets a ride across town (or across a chapter). I don’t advocate inconsistency with your story’s POV, that can be confusing. But if you’re stuck, or fear a linear plot line emerging, try experimenting with a minor character’s point of view. They might just see something in their rearview mirror that you missed with your main character’s forward-looking eyes. The results could be wickedly creative.

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Not Another Resolution

Many of us view the holiday season as an opportunity to reconnect with family, friends, neighbors. This special time recharges our spiritual batteries, ignites our soul. But we might also find ourselves shirking the duties of everyday living – taking out the garbage, paying bills, shaving. We might even stray from the endeavors we enjoy, such as writing.

I must confess, I’ve been neglecting my family. My second family, the one composed of  plots, opinions, characters. I apologize to the jaded lawyer, the arrogant talk show host, the man who hears God’s whisper. I apologize to the single mom, the mayor and the sculptor. I apologize to the secessionist and the turtle. 

I beg for forgiveness from all the characters I left stranded, waiting for their next sentence, while I indulged in fudge and Kahlua. 

 

It’s time to reconnect.