S.C. Skillman's Blog, page 68

How Can Carl Jung's Theory of Archetypes Help You in Your Creative Writing?

Among his many theories, Carl Jung includes "archetypes". An archetype may be defined as "a universally understood symbol or term or pattern of behaviour".  If you read Robert McKee's Story, you will find that the key to writing a great novel lies in "building archetypal elements into the story." So what exactly are these "archetypal elements"? And how exactly can they help creative writers?

Let me give you a few suggestions of archetypes from my own reading and observation:

1.  The indissoluble partnership on the quest: This pair is hard-wired into our unconscious – Character A is the one on whom the gifts and the destiny have fallen; and Character B is the unfailingly loyal and faithful companion who provides essential moral, emotional and psychological support, without whom character A could not succeed. We see this working out in the following pairs: Frodo and Sam; Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson; Arthur and Merlin; The Doctor and his companion.

2. The animal spirit guide/messenger. We see this in the story of Siegfried (one of the four parts of the music drama The Ring of the Nibelung by Richard Wagner).  As Siegfried waits for the dragon to appear he notices a woodbird in the tree,which he befriends; when he fights the dragon its blood burns his hands; licking them, he tastes the dragon blood and can understand the woodbird's song. He follows its instructions to take the Ring from the dragon's hoard.  Philip Pullman extended this idea in his use of animal daimons in His Dark Materials trilogy; Mrs Coulter has her golden monkey, and Lyra her marmoset, Pantalaimon. Here the animal is like an externalised part of our unconscious.  The Bible of course makes use of this  too by giving the Dove a key role as a guide; and as a symbol of peace, love, the Holy Spirit. Another example is the Raven. "To have a raven's knowledge" is an Irish proverb meaning "to have a seer's supernatural powers". The Raven was banished from the Ark by Noah – but it returned later on in the Old Testament to feed Elijah in the wilderness. 

3) The saintly fool / the one who is without guile – this appears in the story of Parsifal again dramatised by Wagner in his opera of the same name. The fool himself, Parsifal, personifies goodness. The quality of simplicity and purity of motive appears in many characters such as the Chaplain in Joseph Heller's novel Catch 22. However, Heller develops the chaplain to the point where he discovers his innocence has become irrelevant; he's disorientated by a world where killing has become a virtue. His original purity of motive, however, provides a strong emotional charge to the novel. So too does that of the character Dilsey, the black servant in William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury. The simplicity of her approach to faith holds her together, in stark contrast to the other characters.

You will find a good guide to the subject of archetypes in fiction here: http://www.archetypewriting.com/index.html

For a novel to be lifted from the merely "good" to the "great", it must incorporate archetypal elements.  How can we do that? By studying great stories until this becomes part of our own subconscious as we plan and create our own.

SC Skillman

Filed under: New psychological thriller fiction Tagged: animal messenger, archetypes, Carl Jung, creative writing, great novels, quest, relationships, saintly fool, SC Skillman, unconscious

Virgin Births, Electric Monks and Troublesome Beliefs

Writers need to come clean with themselves. Honesty and truthfulness must be our first goal. And anyone who's read my novel "Mystical Circles" knows I love throwing my characters together in an enclosed space and watching the sparks fly. So what could be better than the opportunity to listen to people talking about their beliefs? I've just embarked on the Alpha course at St Marks's Leamington Spa. It's already proving a fruitful source of inspiration. Here are my insights from the first week of group discussion. And they involve the Virgin Birth, the electric monk, and package deals of beliefs.

Many of us can fall prey to a certain mental habit:  we believe what we want to believe, we pick out bits and pieces of a "beliefs package deal". If there are bits we don't like, or struggle with, we can easily hand them over to Douglas Adams' "electric monk" (a hypothetical labour-saving device that believes things for you, as featured in Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency). The "electric monk" is a metaphor for the situation we find ourselves in when we want to cling on to a belief but have permanently ditched any effort  to scrupulously examine it.  It is an image created by someone who had discounted God and religious belief: although I write as one who loves the wit and brilliance of Douglas Adams' novels.

When it comes to Christianity, I once heard a clergyman say this: "Don't feel you have to believe everything in the package deal in order to be a Christian. There may be some things you struggle to believe. Sit lightly to them for the time being." (a paraphrase of his remarks).  I believe there was psychological insight in this advice. For "sitting lightly to" a belief for the time being, in the cause of a greater truth, knowing you must still wrestle with it later, does not constitute handing it over to the electric monk.

The Immaculate Conception / Virgin Birth is a very good example, and a subject which came up in our discussion group. Judging by the comments made in the group, I'm hazarding a guess that plenty of Christians struggle to believe it. And that's perfectly understandable, because it runs counter to every law of nature we know.  "Why couldn't He have been conceived in the normal way?" we might ask. "What's wrong with that? He can still be the son of God can't He?"

The trouble is, picking and choosing bits of the story according to what you find easier to believe, and handing the awkward bits over to "the electric monk", isn't logically acceptable – either to a religious believer, or to an atheist.

The Athanasian Creed states that Jesus "came from Heaven and was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary and became man… was crucified under Pontius Pilate, suffered and was buried, and arose again on the third day… ascended to Heaven.. and shall come again with glory."

This is a very challenging package deal of beliefs. Pick and choose which ones you find comfortable, if you like, sit lightly to what you cannot believe for the time being, but some time you will have to wrestle with it.

The electric monk is capable of holding many impossible beliefs at the same time. In reality, who declares a belief "impossible"? That conclusion can only be reached by someone who has scrupulously examined it from every angle.

More insights from the Alpha course, I hope, next week!

SC Skillman

How Can Carl Jung's Theory of Synchronicity Help You in Your Creative Writing?

Among his many theories, Carl Jung includes "synchronicity". This may be defined as "the meaningful patterning of two or more psycho-physical events not otherwise causally connected". I've known of this theory for several years, and have seen it operating not only in my life but in the lives of others. Now I realise how it can help creative writers too.Let me give you a few examples of synchronicity in my own experience. 

1.  I saw a Ulysses Butterfly (for the first time ever) on the first day I wore a t-shirt with a Ulysses butterfly on the front (given me by my sister several months before & not worn until that day).

2. During an Australian holiday several years later my friend wore a t-shirt whose colours and pattern exactly co-ordinated with the rainforest rock she was sitting on (confirmed later by me when I looked at the photo I took of her!)

3. A musician at the Greenbelt festival sang of childhood dreams you lose in adolescence and must hold onto, one hour after I had written out a card (in a marquee at the other end of the site in a separate event) asking God to help me fulfill my childhood dreams.

There are many other examples we can give; e.g. a song came into my head and I heard it sung an hour later; I thought of a phrase, or a piece of information I needed, and a book fell off the shelf and fell open at the page containing that phrase or information; I was talking about a certain problem involving 2 people, and immediately the phone rang, and someone was on the other end who wanted to talk to me about that exact problem and those same 2 people.

Each of these contain just two psycho-physical events, but many more dramatic examples are on record, of synchronicity involving multiple events. As a footnote to my blue butterfly example above, I may say that my business card features a blue butterfly, as does my log-in icon on my computer, because both the colour blue and the freedom of the butterfly hold a symbolic significance for me.

So how can this help creative writers? Here's how – I was reading Robert McKee's book "Story" the other day; and found, among the many aspects of story structure, this phrase: "meaning produces emotion". "Not money," he adds; "not sex; not special effects; not movie stars; not lush photography." He related his observations to movies, but they can just as easily be transposed to novels.

I recognised that behind this lies the truth that "man abhors a vacuum." We seek meaning above all. So much so, that the protagonist of a story can fail to achieve his object of desire, and yet we the readers and audience, can still love that story. This is because (according to the skill of the story-writer) "the flood of insight that pours from the gap delivers the hoped-for emotion but in a way we could never have foreseen."

A synchronistic series of events often centres on "a key image that can sum up and concentrate all meaning and emotion" – as in a great movie or novel. Consider the billboard image of Dr T J Eckleberg, the oculist, in Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby"; or the image of the Eye of Sauron in "The Lord of the Rings".

Synchronistic events often incorporate images that come to us in dreams; for, of course, our dreaming minds can be the best movie directors of all. And synchronistic events can be used to great effect in a novel. But you the story-teller must take great care to ensure that you structure events so they don't strike the reader as random coincidence. Instead, "let the coincidence stay and gather meaning." Interestingly enough, this is exactly what synchronistic events do: they stay and gather meaning.

To me, all these facts of story structure serve to enhance the curious power of synchronicity. So how can I sum this up? Simply to remember, that "meaning" supplies all the power of synchronistic events, and all the power of a great story.  The art of the story-teller is only to structure his telling to serve this purpose.

 

SC Skillman

 

Entertaining Guide to Good Relationships

Rob Parsons has beguiled,moved,and doubled me up in laughter several times on this subject, both in person as an inspirational speaker, and in writing. Now he has again written on a topic that should be closely studied by policy-makers. If you're a parent, and you'd sooner your child achieved their critical acclaim and professional success in a couple of decades time by some other means than publishing their misery memoir, Rob Parsons sets it out in very simple,clear terms in "The Sixty Minute Family" (pub.Lion). One of his answers is as simple as a father spending ordinary time with his child – just "being there". And behind that is a truth: "relationships matter more than money". I expect many more books will be written in more complex terms, saying the same thing. Within classic story structure, what is the one most familiar trope a writer can always rely on? It's the Dysfunctional Parent/Child relationship. The Disney story writers trade on it, the psychiatrists and counsellors make their living from it; the radio interviewers and TV chat show hosts recognise it as their most fruitful area of analysis.Reading what Parsons has to say now (the book was published in 2010)I feel his stance has toughened since I first heard him on this subject. This book gives strong clues to the powerful influence of physically and emotionally absent parents upon the society we live in. But to end on an uplifting note, it may be, as Parsons says, that "most of us are doing a much better job of parenting than we think – and it normally turns out better than we dared hope".

SC Skillman

Novelists and Screenwriters – Where To Find All You Need To Know About Story Structure

Several years ago, I nearly signed on for Robert McKee's "Story Structure" workshop in London – tempted by the testimonial from John Cleese, who attributed his success in creating the Fawlty Towers scripts to what he learned from this workshop. But I saw it was essentially for screenwriters, and chose to pass on it.  I have since recognised that story structure  is universal, and applies not only to screenwriters, but also novelists. When I recently found this book in Waterstones Piccadilly, the inner voice said "Buy it!" And I obeyed.  Now I've absorbed all that McKee has to say about story, it will transform the way I work on the second draft of my new novel.

Story saturates our lives, through books, plays, the theatre, TV and radio drama, and movies; and we all respond to story instinctively. And yet if we were asked to explain why we respond as we do, and why something works or not, many of us would fall silent. But Robert McKee does explain. One thing that has long mystified me is: "How is it that we are satisfied by a story where the protagonist does not achieve his desire?"  McKee replies that "the flood of insight that pours from the gap delivers the hoped-for emotion, but in a way we could never have foreseen."  He illustrates his points with many references to famous movies. "Story" is a huge challenge; dense and even overwhelming, its author acknowledges this at the end: "You have pursued "Story" to its final chapter and, with this step, taken your career in a direction many writers fear… I know that when confronted with a rush of insights even the most experienced writer can be knocked off stride." I hope that, having studied thoughtfully, as I "follow the quest for stories told with meaning and beauty," I too may "write boldly" and produce stories that "will dazzle the world."

SC Skillman

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"intense psychological drama in a beautiful setting"

How To Successfully Write the Plot of Your Novel in Reverse

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How To Successfully Write the Plot of Your Story in Reverse

How do you write a good fiction story in reverse? This may seem a trick question until you realise this simple fact: a novel is defined by its outcome. Put it in another way; every story has a Controlling Idea; and this idea is embedded in the final climax of the story. You cannot know what you are really trying to say until you have your Controlling Idea. And the corollary of that is: you cannot find out what you are trying to say until you have written your story. So what do you do?

1. Do your thinking, your wondering, your research, perhaps even write a plan – just a way to trick the unconscious – then write the first draft without stopping to analyse or correct what you've written and without even being sure of exactly what you're trying to say – though you may have some vague notion. Go on the journey, let all the ideas pour out, and as you do so start learning who your journey companions – your characters – are, and reach the point where you set them free to surprise you and to take twists and turns you had never expected. Pass that point and continue on through all the unexpected deviations and contingencies and revelations – until you reach the story climax and know you have finished.

2. Leave the draft to marinate for a period of time; at least a number of weeks. Then come back to it, print it out, read it through, and see it afresh. Consider the Controlling Idea embedded in the story climax. It may be something very different to what you originally thought you were trying to say. Be sure you have clearly identified this idea; it must not be ambivalent. It may be negative, or positive, or ironic. But you can be sure that if you have followed your own instincts, this Controlling Idea will be your world view. It will be true to yourself, and not to what you imagine the world around you wants to hear; not even to match what you perceive to be the beliefs of a commercial audience. The paradox is this: your story will never please anyone else if it is not true to what you really believe.

3.Then write your story in reverse. Take your Controlling Idea, write it on a Post It Note, stick it your laptop/computer and go through your draft again, rewriting, setting every twist, every turning point, every reversal, every climax of every Act, in the light of that Controlling Idea.

Robert McKee in his book "Story" cites some examples of Controlling Ideas in famous movies to help you understand this concept: "Goodness triumphs when we outwit evil" (The Witches of Eastwick); "The power of nature will have the final say over mankind's futile efforts" (Elephant Man, The Birds, Scott of the Antarctic) or "Love fills our lives when we conquer intellectual illusions and follow our instincts" (Hannah And Her Sisters).

In conclusion, for a story-teller, one guiding principle stands out: "We have only one responsibility: to tell the truth."

SC Skillman

Staying Focused – Learning From St Paul

How do we stay focused when all that we hope for seems very far from being achieved? These are the words that inspire me as I write: Only let us live up to what we have already attained. They come from St. Paul's letter to his Christian friends at Philippi – chapter 3 verse 16. It is a measure of his psychological insight that these words apply not only specifically to the individuals he wrote to, but across time and culture to any of us who aim high in any field of endeavour at all.

But in the field of creative writing, how appropriate these words are. They are all about letting go of the negative, moving on from any feelings of inadequacy, and choosing not to focus on what hasn't worked. Earlier in this same passage, Paul says: Forgetting what is behind and straining towards what is ahead, I press on towards the goal to win the prize. In these words, he encapsulates something which is at the heart of all success.

In the time which has passed since the publication of my first novel, several wonderful things have happened, which have filled me with joy, which have encouraged me, which have taught me much. In addition to this, other things I hoped for have not happened – although there have been a number of intriguing little flashes of hope and possibility for the future. But only let me live up to what I have already attained. No words could be more relevant to me at the very moment of writing this.

These words aren't passive, purely about a positive attitude, as in Always Look on the Bright Side of Life. They are active, and require you to re-imagine your own story. Consider the example of Georges Melies, French illusionist and film-maker (1861-1938). In 1923, outraged at a tragic decline in his fortunes, he personally burned all of the negatives of his films that he had stored at his Montreuil studio plus many of the sets and costumes. Later he was recognised and honoured, and received the Legion of Honour from Lumiere himself. And now 200 of his remaining films have been released on DVD. But in that dark mood in 1923, he fell victim to a despair that these words could have lifted him from – he only needed to live up to all that he had attained.

So Paul's words remind us of our personal responsibility to acknowledge and build on all that is positive in our lives, even in the face of changeable feelings, to the extent of "acting as if" and then finding that the feelings – of encouragement and fresh hope – follow.

SC Skillman

 

S.C. Skillman is the author of "Mystical Circles", a psychological thriller. You can buy the novel on Amazon and through the Kindle Bookstore or visit the author's website to find out more. Click the secure payment gateway to buy a signed copy at http://www.scskillman.co.uk.

Inspiration for Creative Writers From Artists

Honesty and truthfulness – these are the outstanding virtues of a great artist. And as a creative writer I have in recent times found inspiration from two contemporary artists, Grayson Perry and Tracy Emin.

Both artists hold personal challenges for me; and the irony is that in the past – perhaps in my twenties – I would have disapproved of their work (or some of it) and even found it offensive. Therefore these two artists have a direct relevance to me, because they evoke strong reactions. Yet now their honesty compels me. And several elements of the autobiographical accounts of their social background have strong similarities to my own.

Both artists make use of phrases from our culture which they transform into art – neon signs, tapestries, lithographs, glazed vases; from a vase of Grayson Perry blaze the words "career advancement." These words are so evocative. They carry within them all sorts of presumptions, pretensions, falsehoods, eagerness to impress, compulsion to present a false picture of oneself to the world. And Tracey Emin describing her abortion experience on film is electrifying – simply because she is so honest.

In Grayson Perry's book Portrait of the Artist as a Young Girl, we find these words, an observation made by Wendy Jones who transcribed the tapes of his account: "During the interviews Grayson appeared almost physically malleable. It seemed that sometimes he would look like a First World War pilot, then a mediaeval minstrel, then a housewife suffering from ennui, then an elegant hurdler. He was always morphing – I hadn't come across that before and I doubt I shall see it often again."

This capacity to morph strikes a chord in my own experience and is described in my own novel Mystical Circles where it is eventually understood as part of the shapeshifting gifts of a shaman. Wendy Jones' description was fascinating to me as I have known of those who morph in this fashion and have witnessed it myself and worked it into my own fiction.

Grayson Perry suggests that we "sit lightly to our beliefs", and "let go of a compulsion to seek meaning – we will enoy life in this world much more." His art bears this out; everything is referred back to his childhood teddy Alan Measles, everything set against that barometer of his childlike perceptions, even to the extent of expressing his tranvestism by dressing as a little girl.

The irony and humour and poignancy of my reaction to these two artists is compelling when I consider my own background and personal history and creative journey. Both Perry and Emin have vitally important things to say to me, strong challenges to make to me. I cannot ignore these challenges as a creative writer. A writer must above all "come clean with himself."

SC Skillman

The Christmas List

Who else finds writing Christmas cards the cause not just of gladness but pain and sorrow? I put off "doing" my Christmas list until I'm in the mood – and light a candle and have a glass of sherry or wine to help create that mood. Why? Because each year I have to engage with the major change in people's lives; the gap of a year between communications throws those changes – for good and for bad – into sharp relief.

There are those who must now be addressed The … Family, because a new baby has been born. You remember the mother as a tiny blonde cherub herself. Then there are the divorces, where you refer back to the previous year's Christmas newsletter and gaze at the photo of the mother with her two tall sons, and remember when you rejoiced at her marriage, at the news of the arrival of their first baby… and now "he" has disappeared from their lives, and is no longer referred to. Then there's the lady whose previous husband beat her up – a fact she communicated to you in a Christmas newsletter 5 years ago – and who sent you the news 3 years ago that she was marrying someone else she only referred to by his first name – and hasn't been in touch since. You'd like to try and restore the lines of communication, but you only have the surname of the ex-husband. You presume she's now living with the new man – unless that relationship too has broken up – but you're not quite sure, and you have to address her  in such a way that takes account of different possible scenarios.

And there are the couples whose children have now grown up and left home and started their own families, so you can now revert to sending cards to the couple alone, without their children's names… and that feels sad too, despite the fact that this has been in many ways a happy change.

Then there are the people who have died, and whose names have to be crossed off your Christmas list and out of your address book – a task that always feels callous to me, every time I do it. And the people you're going to send a card to who may well have died, but nobody has told you, so you won't know, unless your card is returned to you by some helpful relative in the New Year.

So much change for good or bad. Then it occurs to me that at least my own family unit is "the same as last year" and perhaps that fact alone is a cause for at least one small flare of gladness and relief in the hearts of those who receive our greetings.

But should it be? For those on our Christmas list often only communicate the stark facts that will affect the way we address our envelopes to them next year. Behind it all lies the complex reality of their lives. As a novelist I know what is in my characters' hearts; but not in the hearts of everyone on my Christmas list –  the new parents, the newly-bereaved, the freshly-betrayed, the lonely, the divorced, even those who superficially appear to have everything in order, even those who claim success and triumph all round for every member of the family… their lives are far more complex than can ever be conveyed in the artificial confines of the Christmas card or newsletter.

Perhaps the candle flame is there  to remind me of that.