SPECIAL EDITION WRITING TIPS

SOLE SURVIVOR has come to DVD from the crew at Code Red (http://www.codereddvd.com/), and while that may not mean much to today's audiences, trust me: it's a good thing.

A loose remake of David Hemmings' THE SURVIVOR from a couple of years earlier, SOLE SURVIVOR tells the story of an advertising executive, who walks away unscathed from a plane crash that kills every other passenger. Unfortunately, Death is not content and decides to come after her. Sound familiar? If you're thinking FINAL DESTINATION, you're good at making connections.

Unlike that trio of highly successful horror films, gore is kept to a minimum. (There's a tad.) But the tension? Nearly unbearable.

Also unlike the FINAL DESTINATION films, SOLE SURVIVOR never made any serious money in its heyday. But it did make an indelible impression on my young mind, scaring me into many sleepless nights where I was positive those zombie-eyed corpses calling for young Denise Watson's soul were standing over me, knives-in-hands. It also accounted for a few nighttime accidents when I was too terrified to negotiate a dark house for a bathroom.

(Who knew what was hiding there?)

Needless to say, I love the film. In the home of my horror movie madness... and, guys, I'm a nut for the genre... this is one of the strongest pieces of foundation. It reaches a level of tension I vainly hope each new horror film will aspire to; and in the years before and after, there haven't been many to move it from its perch.

So when I set out to write this column, I was shocked to find how difficult the ideas came. How could a film I love so much offer so little in writing fuel? I asked myself: what is the best part of the movie? What drew me to it? What portions do I declare, in book terms, as "unputdownable"?

Scanning the film in my brain, I think about how well tension is built. Time moves with so little effort we hardly realize because we're too busy wondering what is behind us... if the bad guys will catch her... who will die next... the list goes on. The realization occurs to me that SOLE SURVIVOR is good at what it does because it accomplishes visually what a writer must perform through words. It establishes a foreboding mood through the absolute dread and paranoia of its characters.

And therein lies the definition of what mood is: the way your characters read the events around them. How do they see things? While SOLE SURVIVOR is able to use creepy music to heighten tension, it understands that without characters to feel, to think, to sweat and dread, there's little reason for the audience to care about anything. Yes, music plays a part in draining every drop of tension from the proceedings, but that tension is only possible through first establishing the characters.

What are their likes? Their dislikes? Their secret hopes and dreams? Their views on life, the world, God, etc.? Think about the characteristics that will be important to the story you're telling. Create a character with a "real" way of looking at things.

For Denise Watson, she states how she's always felt lucky... things always seem to work out in her favor, even under less-than-favorable conditions (such as a plane crash). While I'm of the "without bad luck, I'd have no luck at all" camp, I can relate to Denise because of her paranoia. She knows this is uncommon. Most people aren't privvy to the same strokes of luck. She acknowledges it. And she continues with her view by stating that she fears it will come back to her. The scale is tipped in her favor, and something must be done to balance it.

How many times have you felt uneasy because things were going too well? You knew, just as sure as you committed to the feeling, someone would call the house with layoff news, a death notice, or the cancellation of your favorite TV show. This hypochondriac mentality consumes our ability to enjoy anything.

While I'm not always like that, I can relate to the feeling. And it's from this relatable sensation that the seeds of tension are sewn.

When mysterious people shadow Denise's movements, she starts to connect the sightings with a phenomena known as "Survivor's Guilt," in which the survivors of a catastrophe follow their fellow victims into death within a few months of the initial occurrence. In Denise's mind, a more sinister possibility comes with the phenomena... the possibility that Death has sent its victims back to collect her soul. She's the one that got away, and that just can't happen.

The character's viewpoint brings us in, and adds dramatic weight to the dangers that soon follow. But it all starts with an outlook. Your characters are your story. This edition -- and the blog itself -- harps on that fact so much because it's through your characters that mood and, subsequently, tension (or the feeling that something is about to happen, and you just can't wait to find out how it ends up) will grow.

Welcome back, one and all. This week we look at a film endangered of being forgotten – and unjustly so. While BLOWN AWAY won’t go down on any Ten Best lists, it’s a solid piece of filmmaking, and probably one of the last American action movies to rely on real-world special effects. Filled with great character development and tons of earth-trembling explosions, the film masters in suspense, and provides textbook examples in suspense for all creators.

In BLOWN AWAY Jeff Bridges plays Jimmy Dove, a Boston bomb squad technician with a haunted past, now about to revisit him in the form of a mad bomber, his ex-mentor. Using the tried-and-true, teacher-versus-pupil, good-versus-evil formula the film avoids the discomforts of cliché by pulling the rug out from the audience’s feet every chance it gets, and lighting a slow burning fuse of anticipation that explodes in a climactic final showdown, and one of the largest explosions ever filmed. (For the comic book author, a full-page shot indeed.) While film has many advantages to building suspense, we in the print medium are not as handicapped as we think.

The film opens as Gaerity (Tommy Lee Jones) awaits the return of his cell mate in the bowels of an Irish prison. We glimpse their camaraderie. We know there is an escape plan. And we know Gaerity could have gone alone, but for some reason, he chooses not to. He waits, apparently out of friendship. “I’ll wake you when it’s time,” he tells the man. And he keeps that promise, but follows it with a switchblade to the windpipe seconds later.

In the first reversal, Gaerity shows us why he waited. He needed a liquid to build the explosive that leads to his escape – so he uses his friend’s blood. Immediately, the film creates suspense, establishing clearly who the villain is, and shrouding his motives. Our expectations for Gaerity cause uncertainty (till the reveal) of the lengths he will go to, and what those closest to him can expect if they hang around too long.

The opening scene accomplishes both types of suspense – what I will call “the impulse buy” and “the staples.” The former is a plot-driven construct. In other words, it is born of the story environment. The latter is character-driven, an absolute necessity if the former is to succeed. Think of it like a trip to Wal-Mart, or some other large multi-purpose supermarket. You show up for the staples. Sure, you may purchase some impulse items along the way, but you’ll never buy into them if the staples don’t get you in the store.

With the staples the audience finds out what they should expect from the major players. What evils is our villain capable of? What nasty memories haunt our protagonist? What extent will he go to for self-protection and/or prevention of the evildoer’s ghastly plan? In other words, we discover who the characters are as people. Is he the type that would beat his granny to death with a lead pipe? Would he storm into a burning tenement to save a small child? Perhaps he’s capable of both extremes?

BLOWN AWAY establishes all these parameters early in the plot, and allows suspense to spread like a viral epidemic with each plot-based development – the impulse buys. At this point, we know what the cast is capable of. Now we can move to the environment of the story to create more chills. BLOWN AWAY does so with one spectacular set-piece involving Dove’s new wife and step-child as they return from the grocery store. The everyday mundane chores are each put to the test as wife and daughter reach for hanging light switches, turn on burners, ignite oven flames, and answer phone calls, oblivious to the possibility there is a madman watching them with expertise in homemade explosives.

Writers John Rice, Joe Batteer, and Jay Roach, and director Hopkins, realize how to place their visuals to milk this scene of every last drop of suspense. Just as each new possible deathtrap is revealed, the scene cuts to Dove racing across town, frantic to stop the explosion before it occurs. Meanwhile, we’re not sure if there is an explosion till the camera returns, and it’s time for the next deathtrap.

If I were writing this scene in comic book form, I would lay out panels so that the switch is flicked at the end of the page. Keep audiences wondering if the worst they think is about to happen really does, or if it’s just an overactive, paranoid imagination. If you can wait an extra page, audiences will love you for it. We all like to say we’re not the beat-around-the-bush types. But when it comes to suspense, we love to be jacked around. It’s basic human nature. That’s why TV programs such as HERO and comic books like STAR WARS, SPIDER-MAN, and FEAR AGENT continue to enthrall us.

When crafting suspenseful scenes for your story, recall and reuse the two types of suspense. Know these two forms are inseparable, and one cannot exist without the other. As with good storytelling, suspense starts with knowing your characters – their personalities, their capabilities, their limitations. Once they’re established, you’ll be surprised where they take you; and you won’t be able to stand the wait of getting there.