L.E. Truscott's Blog, page 43

Plot Cliches You Should Avoid Like the Plague

This has happened to everyone so often it’s a plot cliché in itself. You’re watching a TV show or a movie or reading a book and instead of being surprised by what happens next, it has you rolling your eyes either because you saw it coming a long way off or because you’ve seen the exact same plot point in about a thousand other TV shows, movies and books.

Now the list could potentially be as long as the proverbial never-ending piece of string but here’s a few humdinger plot clichés to be avoided if at all possible (and it’s almost always possible).

Child Investigating Murder of Parent

This shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone but if you’re in Australia, New Zealand, the US, Canada, the UK or any European country, the local police forces are reasonably adept at investigating and solving crimes, especially murders. They really don’t need the assistance of an untrained and likely biased relative of the victim to get the job done. And if the police can’t solve a murder with all the tools they have at their disposal, then the likelihood of a regular citizen doing so is almost non-existent.

This goes double for a child of a murdered parent who goes on to become a member of the police force with the specific goal of solving their parent’s murder. In the real world, there is not a chance in hell that they would be assigned to the department responsible for the case. And any police officer accessing police files not directly connected to their specific case load would be found out quick smart as detailed computer logs are kept these days.

One of the biggest complaints in fiction is a complete lack of realism and this cliché ticks the box in a huge way.

Innocent Young Girl Investigates Noise in the Basement When Known Serial Killer Is on the Loose

This one happens almost exclusively in crime and horror fiction and as so perfectly portrayed in Scream 2, when this happens the audience throws popcorn at the screen.

Most people in real life have no desire to confront unknowns in enclosed and darkened spaces from which escape in the event of encountering the source of the noise is almost impossible. So why do we constantly force fictional characters to do it? Yes, we like strong characters but we also like characters with a little bit of common sense, even those unlucky enough to have been born blonde and beautiful and then typecast to die in a basement.

Guns Jamming at the Crucial Moment

I have no doubt that in the real world and in real life that guns jam. But isn’t it just a tad too convenient when a villain’s gun jams at exactly the precise moment to allow the hero to make a getaway?

This sort of plot cliché is known as a deus ex machina and this is from Wikipedia: “Aristotle was the first to use deus ex machina as a term to describe the technique as a device to resolve the plot of tragedies [That’s how old it is!]. It is generally deemed undesirable in writing and often implies a lack of creativity on the part of the author. The reasons for this are that it does not pay due regard to the story’s internal logic…and is often so unlikely that it challenges suspension of disbelief…”

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Guards Falling Asleep While on Duty

Maybe I’m just yearning for a better breed of both hero and villain. But villains who employ henchmen prone to taking cat naps on the job just strike me as doomed to fail. And heroes who are simply able to tip toe past to gain access to whatever their target is don’t seem particularly heroic, just particularly lucky.

Yes, it’s easy writing but it’s also lazy plot development.

Characters Being Shot in the Butt

Characters being shot in the butt seems to be a plot cliché used when writers are trying to inject some humour into their writing. But ask the person being shot in the butt how funny they find it. About as funny as being shot anywhere else in your body.

The other thing about being shot in the butt is that your character has to be turned away from the gun, meaning they are either being ambushed or running away. Hardly the mark of a hero. Heroes retreat by scurrying backwards while laying down cover fire. Cowards retreat forwards while uselessly covering their heads with their hands. Which do you want your character to be?

Characters Being Brought Back to Life When They Were Clearly Dead

I’m not talking about twenty or thirty minutes without a heartbeat here. I’m talking about characters who have been gone multiple years or multiple books or multiple movies and were known to be long dead suddenly reappearing. It’s emotional trickery. We’ve been forced to grieve for these characters and have moved on. And now the equilibrium of the fictional universe we are choosing to spend time in has been completely upset.

If you have to rely on a long dead character to tell your story, then there is more wrong than just the fact that someone has returned from the dead. There are huge problems with your entire story and your entire approach to telling that story.

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The easiest solution when you identify a plot cliché in your own writing is to simply do the exact opposite instead:

Don’t have a child investigating their parent’s murder. Have an unrelated and qualified police officer do it.
Don’t have an innocent young girl investigating noises in the basement when a known serial killer is on the loose. Have her call her parents or the police or a neighbour.
Don’t have guns jamming at crucial moments or security guards falling asleep on duty. Have your hero actually come up with an ingenious way to foil villains with perfectly functioning weapons and get past security guards who are alert at all times.
Don’t have characters being shot in the butt. Have them being shot in any other body part.
Don’t bring characters who were clearly dead back to life. Let them rest in peace or don’t kill them in the first place.

This is just the tip of the iceberg. Feel free to add your plot clichés to be avoided like the plague in the comments section.

Book Review: The Intercept by Dick Wolf

I was very interested to read this book because of Dick Wolf’s previous achievements. I have to admit that I was expecting something a lot more intriguing.

The main problems were:

*I guessed almost straight away who the ultimate baddy was.

*The characters discover one of the next plot points because of an unencoded message (almost as bad as having a guard fall asleep).

*It took way too long to get to the main story.

*There was almost no character development (all I know about Jeremy Fisk is that he played basketball and dated a colleague – if it’s going to be a series of Jeremy Fisk books, he needed to be much more compelling).

*The police aren’t getting anywhere in the investigation so the baddy reveals himself to one of the cops to get things moving.

I was hoping for something as meaningful as Archer’s Honour Amongst Thieves and it never reached those heights.

It was okay as a first novel but for someone of Dick Wolf’s background, it should have been much more than okay. I’m not sure that I would bother reading future books in this series.

3 stars

*First published on Goodreads 24 February 2013

Where Do You Write?

“I am a completely horizontal author. I can’t think unless I’m lying down.”

Truman Capote, The Paris Review, Issue 16, 1957

Who would ever have thought it? Certainly not me. But I have something in common with Truman Capote. Partially. When I’m not working a second job, I do all my writing in bed. Sitting up with all the pillows propping me into position with my laptop on my thighs and my notebook open next to me. When I am working a second job, and my second jobs are always office jobs, I write at my desk on my lunch break and then come home at the end of the day to do more writing in bed.

I used to write in my study where I have a PC and all my books but gradually I found myself wanting to be in my study less and less. I don’t think it was the room itself. I think it was a few things. I think it was the desk chair I have. It’s not at all comfortable. The longer I sat in it, the more uncomfortable I became. I think it was the weather in winter. All I wanted was to be under a blanket because I refuse to heat my entire open plan house when I’m the only person in it. I also think it was the weather in summer. The study is upstairs. Upstairs in my house in the summer is stinking hot and I don’t have air-conditioning so I spend most of my time downstairs during the warmer months.

Not wanting to be in the room that had the computer in it affected the time I devoted to my writing. Eventually I decided I needed a laptop so I could write anywhere (in bed, upstairs, downstairs, not at home at all) and it was the best decision I ever made. Even though the study and my bedroom are right next to each other, there is no comparison to the amount of writing output I’ve been able to achieve since I bought the laptop.

I have a friend who goes to her beach house to write and uses the view as inspiration. I have another friend who goes to a bed and breakfast to write. The theme here seems to be getting away from the pressures of the everyday, whether that means partners, family, friends, pets or work. And also getting away from distractions. No interruptions.

I suspect this wouldn’t suit me though. Mainly because I’ve never done it and yet I still seem to have a reasonable writing output. But also because I can’t write without my books. When I am writing, I will constantly get up and go to the study to pull a book off the shelf and consult it. I did it while I was writing this blog post, revisiting the Matthew Reilly chapter in James Phelan’s book Literati: Australian Contemporary Literary Figures Discuss Fear, Frustrations and Fame. I remembered that Matthew Reilly talked about working at his local RSL when he was first starting out, alternately checking people’s badges at the door as they came in and jotting down notes for his novel.

I have thousands of physical books. And referring to the internet (which I also do) just doesn’t compare when I am looking for a specific passage in a specific book I have previously read. So rather than thinking about a way to cart them about in order to write somewhere else, it’s easier just to stay at home.

What about a library? I know a lot of writers favour this option because the books are all there just waiting for them. I also know I shouldn’t say this because it seems wrong for a writer to admit but I don’t go into libraries anymore. I haven’t been into a library for years. And the last few times I was in a library, it was to attend the annual general meeting of my body corporate (we had hired the meeting room).

I wouldn’t be able to cope with the distractions of the other people in the library. I’m a natural observer. I like to watch things going on around me. But this is not helpful when I’m trying to write. I need a silent (not quiet, entirely silent) space without anyone else around.

The other thing about travelling to a place to write is that I lament the lost travel time in which I could have been writing. Sometimes all you need is an hour to write but if you spend a half hour getting to where you are going and another half hour coming back, then you’ve actually used two hours and accomplished only half of what you potentially could have.

JK Rowling wrote in a number of cafés during the early days of Harry Potter, including Nicolson Café (which was owned by her brother-in-law) and the Elephant House café, although she was raising a young child at the time and has admitted the walk to the café was the best thing for getting the baby to go to sleep. I know other writers who like the café option as well. But I’d feel compelled to purchase a beverage to justify my presence and as anyone attempting to survive on the earnings of just your writing will know, a coffee a day can add up to a lot of money that could have been spent on electricity or rent.

There are a huge number of options when it comes to choosing where to write and a lot of factors that make one option more appealing than others to some writers and not appealing at all to other writers.

So where does the writing magic happen for you?

The Myth of Equal Opportunity

In Australia and many other Western countries, the concept of equal opportunity is enshrined in law and embraced by employees as well as most employers. These laws cover protections that, while considered basic rights now, have generally been a result of hard-fought battles in past decades.

These rights include bans on discrimination on the basis of age, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation, pregnancy, race, religion, disability and probably a few others I’m forgetting. While they don’t guarantee that discrimination doesn’t happen (that’s an impossibility in a workforce populated by fallible humans – as we all are – and a world that seems to struggle more and more with intolerance), they provide assurance that victims have recourse and perpetrators must answer for their actions.

But sometimes equal opportunity is incorrectly equated with equal ability. Just because employees are equal doesn’t make them the same. So here’s a rather unfortunately lengthy list of things that can make the playing field of employment opportunities more uneven than we would like.

Talent

I am a firm believer in the fact that everyone has talent. The difficulty for most people seems to be in identifying their specific talent and embracing it. Why? There are a few reasons:

• Wanting to be good at something else – some people would give anything to be a terrific singer or a successful actor or a wonderful writer. The honest truth is that some people persist in pursuing dreams they don’t have a talent for. I don’t say this to be discouraging. But we’ve all seen people auditioning for TV shows who clearly don’t have the talent they believe they do. It’s just a waste of time. (Of course, for those who don’t care about being good – and consequently successful – then there’s no problem in going ahead and giving it your all.)

• Wanting it to be easy – just because you have talent doesn’t mean you don’t have to work hard to achieve goals. I can cook but that doesn’t make me a chef. I can paint a wall but that doesn’t make me an interior designer. All talent requires nurturing, investment of time and effort, and an understanding that talent does not mean accomplishment; it’s just one component.

• Wanting to be unique – some people seem to think there’s no point embracing talent if they’re just going to be one of the crowd. If they can’t be the best, then what’s the point? Imagine if the world’s top one hundred metre runners felt that way. The Olympics would be a vastly different and much less interesting occasion. Talent doesn’t need to be greedy. It can be generous and so much more powerful for being shared.

The key to ensuring talent is on your side is knowing what yours is and how to use it to your advantage. And it’s just as important to be able to recognise when you don’t have a particular talent. Because stamping your feet and insisting you have talent when you don’t won’t get you anything, except maybe a reputation for being unable to recognise reality.

Common Sense

“Common” sense has never been more of a misnomer – it’s less common than ever these days – so even a modicum of it can really set you apart from the crowd. Things that get in the way of common sense include stubbornness, personality conflicts, perfectionism, emotions and taking on tasks for which you have no aptitude.

I actually think common sense is a combination of two things: patience – specifically, taking the time to think through options and likely outcomes before reacting to whatever situation has presented itself – and pragmatism – accepting that you can’t always be right, that sometimes someone else will have the answer, and that those two things combined don’t make you any less valuable.

Intelligence

There are all different kinds of intelligence – emotional, creative, technical, general, mechanical, musical, mathematical, linguistic, literal, lateral – okay, maybe some of those aren’t official kinds of intelligence but you get the idea. People can be smart in different ways.

And some people are simply less smart than others. Whether that’s because of the genetic hand they were dealt or because of early intervention strategies (or a lack thereof) or because of a variety of other reasons, it is what it is.

In my twenties, I often found myself saying things like, “If I can do it, then why can’t she?” or “If I can figure it out, then why can’t he?” Now that I’m in my mellow thirties and have had significant exposure to both white collar and blue collar industries, I recognise that my abilities really have nothing to do with anyone else’s. Just because I can do something does not mean I have the right to expect anyone else to be able to do it. I feel pretty confident that when I leave my mechanics in my freshly serviced car or my doctor’s office with my latest diagnosis, neither my mechanic nor my doctor utter the words, “Why can’t she figure it out for herself?”

The important thing to acknowledge when it comes to intelligence is there’s no point pretending to have it if you don’t because you will sooner or later (and it’s almost always sooner) be found out and shown the door. Just as important is the acknowledgement that you don’t need to be a genius to be successful. There are plenty of examples of people who were told that they would never amount to anything and yet ultimately turned out to be high achievers. There are just as many people who don’t have high IQs, who perhaps have even doubted themselves, and have still managed to establish perfectly acceptable careers and achievements. And there are even people with sky high IQs who have never achieved anything.

In and of itself, intelligence means little. It’s what you end up doing with it that’s significant.

Street Smarts

Paradoxically, or perhaps it’s karma, street smarts are more frequently seen in people from lower socio-economic backgrounds rather than those with the advantage of wealth and position. The reason being that street smarts often develop as a result of the types of challenges most in positions of advantage are shielded from (usually by their parents). The longer it takes for you to be exposed to the complexities and actualities of the real world, the more disadvantaged you will be when coming up against those who can recognise what it is as opposed to what we want it to be.

Street smarts sometimes seem to me like a progression from idealist to cynic, from optimist to pessimist, so it might not be a journey you really want to take. But it’s important to recognise it can be a useful and sometimes crucial skill in particular industries.

Confidence

I’m not sure that these times are any different to other previous times but we – the current inhabitants of the world – seem to be having a crisis of confidence. Which means those who have it, even when it isn’t justified, automatically have an advantage.

There’s nothing wrong with being honest with yourself about your strengths and weaknesses – in fact, it’s a common job interview question – but if you can’t convince yourself that you’re the best person for the job, how on earth are you going to convince a panel of interviewers?

Confidence is a self-fulfilling prophecy: there’s nothing more confidence building than getting the job you want. So here’s a mantra to practice for interviews: “I am the best candidate for this job.” Then supplement the mantra with a list of reasons why. And repeat until you’ve convinced if not yourself, then at least the interviewer.

Or take a leaf out of the book of many, many others – fake it.

Contacts and Networking

“It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” We’ve all heard it. A lot. And once we begin our employment journey, it’s something that becomes blatantly obvious. Not just that some people have more contacts and a better network but also that some people are better at making more contacts and maintaining their network. And taking it one step further, some people are prepared to use that network to their advantage.

I have to admit that this is not an area in which I excel. I’ve always had this naive idea that I can make it on my own through hard work without asking for help or favours. As an example of what I’m talking about, I know both a full-time author who has published more than twenty books and the Sales & Marketing Manager of a major publisher but I have never asked, and don’t ever intend to ask, what they might be able do for me. But if you asked why, I would struggle to come up with a good reason. Pride, maybe? Embarrassment that so far I haven’t be able to do it on my own? Regardless, any reason I come up with isn’t really a good enough one. Because asking for a favour might help put me in a position where I am able to return it one day.

The thing about a network, unlike talent and intelligence, is that it can be changed. It can be built. It can be improved upon. And once it is, it can be used to your advantage to close the unequal opportunity gap.

*First published on LinkedIn 29 June 2015

Book Review: I Am God by Giorgio Faletti

This was just an okay book. I’m not sure if it suffered from being translated from the original Italian but saying that could be a disservice to whoever did the translation.

The story isn’t anything special, the characters aren’t anything special, the plotting isn’t anything special and the ending isn’t anything special.

It’s a little funny because at the conclusion, the author himself refers to the absurdity of the whole story and I couldn’t help agreeing.

If you’re looking for a terrific thriller that moves along at a terrific pace and has a terrific ending, you won’t find it here.

However, it was an easy read and I don’t resent the time I spent reading it.

2 stars

*First published on Goodreads 8 June 2013

Sex Scene from Liberty’s Secret

If you haven’t read Wednesday’s post on the art of writing sex scenes, well, you don’t really need to but it might lessen my embarrassment when you read today’s post.

The following is the sex scene I wrote for Liberty’s Secret, the best of the three romance novels I wrote in the late 1990s and early 2000s (although I never attempted to have any of them published because I realised I wanted to head down a different writing path – now I call them practise novels).

A little back story: Quinn O’Connell and Liberty (Libby for short) Freeman have been given the responsibility of turning around a struggling publishing company. He’s the financial whiz and she’s the ideas expert and they’ve been working very closely together. There is an obvious attraction between them but Libby has frequently stated that she doesn’t get involved with people she works with.

Their boss has dumped them in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with instructions to “work it out” for the sake of the business. Quinn has offered to quit to overcome the issue of Libby not getting involved with people she works with. But something else (her secret, of course!) holds her back. They have fallen asleep, fully clothed, in each other’s arms. The story is told from Quinn’s perspective.

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Quinn didn’t know how long he slept. And as consciousness stole over him, he wasn’t sure why he was waking again. It was still dark. And it was still cold. Maybe that was what had woken him. The cold was seeping inside his shirt, prickling his skin. Except for an intermittent warm sensation just over his heart.

It took a moment for his eyes to respond to the command to open. When they finally did, he wasn’t sure that he wasn’t still asleep and dreaming.

Libby was kneeling beside him and her head was on his chest, her ear over his heart, her eyes on his face. The cold that he had sensed seeping inside his shirt wasn’t seeping at all. The buttons were all unfastened, exposing his skin to the night air, the blanket pulled down to his waist.

When Libby saw that he was awake, she sat up hesitantly, her hair falling over one shoulder. She pushed the chocolate brown mass behind one ear, then rested her hands on either side of her as she leant forward slightly.

‘Libby?’ Quinn brought a hand up to rest on her thigh, and it was then he realised that along with the black jacket, her gown was gone, and she was dressed only in her underwear, a strapless white lace bra and matching pants. The other half of the blanket that was pulled up to his waist was draped about her shoulders, chasing off the worst of the chills.

He sat up half way, his hand on her thigh moving up to cup her hip, feeling the soft scratchy lace, tracing it with a finger. Her hand went to his, pressing it into her flesh, pressing it under the waistband, then sliding up his shirt-covered arm and around his neck. She moved then, her legs going either side of his and her arms going around his shoulders, her face buried under his chin.

Quinn didn’t question her motives, didn’t care at that exact moment. He just tightened his hold, sitting up fully and pushing back her hair. He didn’t want to speak because he always said the wrong thing. Instead he would kiss her.

But she made the move before him, her lips on his neck, working her way up until she found his lips, pressing brief, desperate kisses against his mouth, then his cheeks and his eyelids. And then suddenly she stopped, pulling back to look at him, and he let her have the control, knowing it was the only way.

He waited for the words.

“I…” She wanted to tell him, to say it, but it was too hard for her, so he offered her an escape.

“Libby, you don’t have to say it. I don’t need to hear it. I just need you.”

The look in her eyes was her answer, and her response was to push his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and kiss her way along his collarbone from the tip of one shoulder to the other, pausing in the middle to focus her attention on the small hollow, tracing the line down his chest. Quinn threaded his hands through her silken hair, cupping her face as she rose and running his thumb across the softness of her lips. She kissed the pad of his thumb, and the fleshy base, his palm, and the pulse at his wrist.

Quinn caressed his way down her throat, over the bones in her chest, lingering on the perfect creamy slopes of her breasts, finally moving lower to circle the dark suggestion of her nipples through the lace of her bra.

Libby’s head fell back as she exhaled quietly her pleasure at his touch. He replaced one hand with his mouth, but only for a moment, moving back up to claim her mouth, wanting some sense of equality between them. Her fingers held his face as their tongues met and his hands went to the clasp of her bra, wrenching it undone with haste and disposing of the garment. She pressed herself closer as soon as the barrier was gone, and he felt the softness of her flesh so intimately against him, so warm, so perfect.

Libby captured his wrists and worked on the tiny cuff buttons, slipping the discs through the holes and sliding his shirt off until he was as bare as she was. Her hands stole over the light dusting of hair on his chest, tracing the muscles and his pebbled male nipples until the breath caught in Quinn’s chest. With unconscious teasing, she moved on, her fingers running the length of his torso, feeling the flatness of his stomach and the way he quivered when her hands moved lower. He was hard immediately and his control was under threat.

But Libby again moved on, whether with mischievous intent or innocent playfulness he wasn’t sure, and her attention went to his arms and the rippling muscles, the strength, running all the way down to lace her fingers with his and to push him back on the bed.

She came down with him, body to body, fingering his hair and pushing it back from his brow, and just looked into his face, studying every line, his eyes, his lips.

She closed her eyes and dropped her mouth to his, her lips moving in a sweet caress over his, and Quinn responded in a similar fashion, savouring the sensation of their bodies, their hips, their chests, their mouths pressed together. He strained against the pressure of his clothes, constraining the full force of his passion for her, and Libby recognised the movement of need in him. She kissed her way down his body, her lips leaving his mouth to trail hot wet kisses over his neck and chest, pausing with devastating effect, then continuing past his stomach to the waistband of his pants. She anointed the line of skin above his belt with her tongue while her hands went to work on the fastening.

She pulled the strip of leather free and flung it uncaring across the room before turning her attention to the zipper of his trousers. The delicate speed with which she dispensed with his pants only increased his arousal and for the first time they were completely equal. But even the short seconds it had taken her to free him from his clothes were too long away from Quinn’s arms. He acknowledged to himself that now he knew the satisfaction of it, he could hardly bear a moment of some part of them not being joined.

He pulled her back to him and turned her onto her back and immediately her feet were part of her seduction as they skimmed the backs of his legs. As soon as he could manage it, the final clothing barrier between them was gone and he was kissing her, his tongue teasing the corners of her lips, sweeping across her teeth, meeting and entwining with her tongue.

The cold night air no longer had their attention, no longer was felt on their skin. The heat they generated together protected them from the bite, cocooned them safely from feeling anything but their intensity.

Taking advantage of the leg Libby had wrapped around his hip, Quinn watched Libby’s face as his fingers found her secret core. He could tell she wanted to return his gaze, but as he stroked the junction between her thighs with ever-increasing rhythm and pressure, the resulting pleasure forced her eyes closed. She strained against him exposing the column of her throat, her hands tightening on his arms, her fingernails digging in to his skin.

She gasped as the power of the experience washed over her in wave after wave. Quinn leisurely explored the length of her throat with his mouth to allow her a moment to recover, but she didn’t want to recover. She didn’t want to pull back. She wanted to jump. And Quinn wanted to jump with her. He wanted them to jump together.

She drew him ever closer, drew him into her embrace, drew him into her body. He heard her deep indrawn breath as pushed urgently deeper, desperate to be as close as he could. Her other leg went around his waist to complete the circle with the same instinct, with Quinn setting the rhythm, knowing if he didn’t take control at this point then he would explode far too soon, driving him beyond being able to ensure their mutual pleasure.

He listened with satisfaction as the first moan was driven from her, then kissed the second back into her mouth, moving against her all the while, stroking his hands down her body, overloading her senses in the same way she overloaded his. Her own hands were feverish against him, in his hair, framing his face, on his back, scratching her mark into him, branding him. It all combined against Quinn’s plan to make this moment last forever.

He could see it in her eyes the instant it hit her. He could feel it in her body as she convulsed around him and it drove him over the edge with her. Together they were falling, they were dropping into the pit of an unimaginable pleasure, they were catching each other and riding the crest until it subsided, washing over them and creeping back out to sea until the next time they swam out.

Quinn breathed heavily into Libby’s shoulder, listening to her doing the same, her warm breath tickling against his ear. Their closeness was perfect and he didn’t want it to end. And Libby didn’t want it to end either. When he rolled off her and lay back against the pillow, she pressed close to him, her head on his chest, her hand on his hip, keeping him close.

The silence that followed was imbued with tension. Even in his contentment as he stared down at the top of Libby’s head, Quinn couldn’t help thinking ahead to wonder what happened next. He knew this had to be a turning point; it was an obvious breakdown of barriers, but whether they remained down was something else completely.

There wasn’t anything he could do except hope. He knew what he felt for this woman was exceptional, different. And she knew it, too. It wasn’t everyday he resigned from his job to prove it.

His hand sought Libby’s, lacing their fingers. Her hand was slack and he tilted her chin up to look into her face. In sleep she appeared more beautiful, if that was possible. He kissed her forehead, drawing her as close as he could and forced himself not to think beyond this one perfect moment.

Let’s Talk About Sex (and the Art of Writing Sex Scenes)

“If you don’t like sex, don’t write about it. If you are inhibited about sex, don’t write about it. If you are uncomfortable in any way about sex, don’t write about it.”

Emma Darcy, The Secrets of Successful Romance Writing

I’ll add one more to this: if you are bad at writing sex scenes, don’t write about it.

It’s perhaps not something that readers or writers think about all that often but writing sex scenes is a genuine talent. Finding the right balance between the mechanics and the emotions of the moment is crucial. Because no writer wants their efforts to be described as vulgar, creepy, embarrassing, distasteful or offensive.

Since 1993, the annual Bad Sex in Fiction Award has been bestowed by the British Literary Review to “draw attention to the crude, tasteless, often perfunctory use of redundant passages of sexual description in the modern novel, and to discourage it”. It doesn’t seem to be working. There are still plenty of terrible examples being written and published.

The explosion of erotic fiction may be in part to blame for this but there are just as many bad examples in other genres and literary fiction. The explosion of self-published novels might also have something to do with it. But a lot of writers with publishing contracts seem just as culpable.

Fifteen years ago I was convinced I was going to be Australia’s next queen of romance fiction. I was, and still am, enamoured with a good emotional connection, a true love story. The problem was the kind of romance books I was trying to write (Harlequin Mills & Boon) had strict requirements, including the obligatory sex scene. And it didn’t matter how many times I tried, I could never come up with anything that I wasn’t completely frustrated with (no pun intended).

I don’t even attempt to write sex scenes anymore, mostly because the types of stories I write don’t require them. Perhaps I deliberately choose stories that don’t require sex scenes. Perhaps because I now recognise that it’s just not a strength of mine. And I have no real desire (pun intended this time – ha ha!) to get better at it if it’s at the expense of getting better at other areas of writing, such as plot development, character development, style, etc.

For those who are interested in writing good sex scenes, here’s a summary of Emma Darcy’s tips:

*Any discomfort you personally feel about sex will be reflected in your attempts to write it. Prudes, take note!

*Sex does not solve problems – but it’s okay if it creates them.

*It is not the duty of fiction to promote social messages, such as using contraception.

*Limit yourself to one major sex scene per book (unless, of course, you are specifically writing erotic fiction) as it becomes repetitive.

*80% of the sex scene should be devoted to the emotional states of the participants and 20% should be devoted to the actual mechanics. While the reader doesn’t want a boring step-by-step (or should I say “blow-by-blow”?) account (“Then this happened. Then this happened.”), it’s just as frustrating to not have any idea of what’s going on.

*Sex in and of itself does not sell books. As Emma writes in The Secrets of Successful Romance Writing, “[O]ne of the world’s most distinguished category romance editors said to me, ‘If all you had to do to write a best seller was to put sex into a book, you’d never publish anything but best sellers. This is not the case.’”

*There is no formula for writing sex scenes.

I highly recommend reading Emma Darcy’s book, even if you don’t write romance fiction. It’s a quick read and full of great tips that apply to all types of writing. Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear to be available for sale on any of the online purchase platforms at the moment but I did find a copy for sale on ebay.

Keep an eye out on Friday for when I post the last sex scene I ever wrote all the way back in 2004. It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever written but it’s certainly not the best. And a little public humiliation every now and then is good for keeping writers grounded. Right?

Book Review: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

OK, I know I’m very late to the party but I was already grown up when these books first started coming out so I was never going to be one of the first to devour Harry Potter. But just like with Twilight, I wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

I also wanted to hate this book. But I didn’t. It is exactly what the hype says. A reasonably written children’s magical adventure, extremely filmic because of its simplicity, with a main character everybody can relate to and/or wish they were like.

It took a long time to set up the premise of the story but the second half absolutely flew by, filled with interesting, layered and flawed but lovable people.

I think I would recommend this as the last book a child and their parent might read together as a great stepping stone into the rest of the series to be enjoyed by the child on their own as their reading ability grows.

3 stars

*First published on Goodreads 16 December 2012

My Top Ten TV Shows – Part Two

This is part two of my list of top ten TV shows with a focus on dialogue, which (as I explained previously) I decided I could create from the one show that towers over all others when it comes to this topic – The West Wing.

You might notice that all the episodes I’ve used are from the first three seasons. However, this is not a show that ever gets anywhere near to jumping the shark. All seven seasons are equally terrific and equally jam-packed full of wonderfully witty dialogue. I could have had an entry for every episode. In fact, I could have had a top ten list of dialogue from just the show’s first episode.

For anyone who is serious about mastering the art of writing dialogue, I would highly recommend watching The West Wing – over and over and over again.

Season Two, Episode Eight – Shibboleth

In this Thanksgiving episode, CJ Cregg must choose the more photographic of two turkeys to participate in the traditional pardoning of the turkey ceremony.

Donna Moss: CJ, this is Morton Horn. He’s from Jasper Farms. He’s here to take one of the turkey’s back.

CJ Cregg: What do you mean?

Morton Horn: Well, I gotta take one of the turkeys back.

CJ Cregg: No. No. These turkeys are going to a petting zoo in Delaware.

Morton Horn: Well, one of them is.

CJ Cregg: Yeah, but I’m gonna send both of them.

Donna Moss: CJ, Jasper Farms donated one turkey and then the other one…

CJ Cregg: Right, but I’m going to take them both.

Morton Horn: No, I’ve got to take a turkey back.

CJ Cregg: I’m going to buy it from you. What is it, thirty bucks?

Morton Horn: These turkeys are two hundred and seventy five dollars.

CJ Cregg: For a turkey?

Morton Horn: They’re specially raised.

CJ Cregg: At the Waldorf?

Morton Horn: Ma’am…

CJ Cregg: I’ll pay it.

Morton Horn: It’s already been sold.

CJ Cregg: Give them a different turkey.

Morton Horn: Well, all the turkeys have been sold.

Donna Moss: CJ, I think…

Morton Horn: Ma’am, it was my understanding that one of these turkeys was to be pardoned, the other one sent back to Jasper Farms.

CJ Cregg: Yes, and I chose Eric because Troy doesn’t like to be touched, which surely we’re not going to execute him for.

Morton Horn: Ma’am, I have a job and I need to…

CJ Cregg: Come with me, please.

Morton Horn: Ma’am!

CJ Cregg: Grab the turkey and come with me.

And then a few moments later in the Oval Office:

CJ Cregg: Mr President?

President Josiah Bartlet: Yes?

CJ Cregg: Hi.

President Josiah Bartlet: Hi.

CJ Cregg: I’m sorry to ask you this, sir, but…

President Josiah Bartlet: It’s not too late to stop yourself.

CJ Cregg: I need you to pardon a turkey.

President Josiah Bartlet: I already pardoned the turkey.

CJ Cregg: I need you to pardon another one.

President Josiah Bartlet: Didn’t I do it right?

CJ Cregg: You did it great but I need you to come out here and pardon another one.

President Josiah Bartlet: Aren’t I going to get a reputation for being soft on turkeys?

CJ Cregg: Sir, can you come out here and just get this over with?

President Josiah Bartlet: No, I’m not just going to get this over with. What the hell’s going on?

CJ Cregg: They sent me two turkeys. The more photo-friendly of the two gets a presidential pardon and a full life at a children’s zoo. The runner up gets eaten.

President Josiah Bartlet: If the Oscars were like that, I’d watch.

CJ Cregg: Mr President…

President Josiah Bartlet: Just buy the second turkey.

CJ Cregg: They already sold it.

President Josiah Bartlet: Then there’s not much I can do.

CJ Cregg: You can pardon the turkey.

President Josiah Bartlet: The turkey hasn’t committed a crime.

CJ Cregg: Sir…

President Josiah Bartlet: CJ, I have really no judicial jurisdiction over birds.

CJ Cregg: Yes, I know that and you know that but Morton Horn doesn’t know that.

President Josiah Bartlet: Who’s Morton Horn?

CJ Cregg: He’s the high school kid from the turkey place.

President Josiah Bartlet: He’s in high school and he doesn’t know that I can’t pardon his turkey?

CJ Cregg: That’s what I’m betting.

President Josiah Bartlet: CJ, if we don’t and I mean completely overhaul public education in this country…

CJ Cregg: Yes, sir, but maybe this is not the best time to…

President Josiah Bartlet: Where the hell is he?

CJ Cregg: Right out here. Morton, this is President Bartlet.

President Josiah Bartlet: Hey, Morton.

Morton Horn: Wow.

President Josiah Bartlet: Well said. Is that the turkey?

Donna Moss: Yes.

President Josiah Bartlet: You’re pardoned.

CJ Cregg: Sir…

President Josiah Bartlet: What do you want?

CJ Cregg: Well, you know…

President Josiah Bartlet: By the power vested in me by the Constitution of the United States, I hereby pardon you.

Morton Horn: Okay.

President Josiah Bartlet: No, it’s not okay!

CJ Cregg: Sir!

President Josiah Bartlet: Morton, I can’t pardon a turkey. If you think I can pardon a turkey, then you have got to go back to your school and insist that you be better prepared to go out in the world.

Donna Moss: You can’t pardon a turkey?

President Josiah Bartlet: No. I’ll tell you what I can do. I’m drafting this turkey into military service. In the meantime, somebody will be drafting a cheque, which will have my signature on it so the folks can buy themselves a butterball.

Morton Horn: Okay.

Season Two, Episode Nineteen – Bad Moon Rising

This episode opens with the following scene, introducing the new White House Counsel, Oliver Babbish. The President and Leo McGarry meet with him to discuss whether concealing the President’s multiple sclerosis was a criminal offence.

Female staffer: Go home.

Oliver Babbish: No.

Female staffer: You were up all night.

Oliver Babbish: Do you know why?

Female staffer: Oliver…

Oliver Babbish: Because my staff’s work on the analysis of HR-437 ignored the fourth amendment implications and instead, became fascinated with the third, seventh and eleventh.

Female staffer: Please.

Oliver Babbish: Like you gotta be a prime number to get the attention of the US Supreme Court.

Female staffer: You should really go home and get a few hours’ sleep before you go to the airport.

Oliver Babbish: That’s why I was up all night. Where am I going?

Female staffer: You’re going on vacation.

Oliver Babbish: Wait. It’s coming back to me.

Female staffer: Oliver…

Oliver Babbish: It’s not a vacation. It’s a forced vacation.

Male staffer: In Borneo.

Oliver Babbish: It’s an international law summit where I’m supposed to show my support for… I’m not certain. Do I have that in my notes someplace?

Female staffer: Yes.

Oliver Babbish: I need the amicus brief on sovereign immunity.

Female staffer: It’s there.

Oliver Babbish: Federal land use.

Male staffer: It’s there.

Female staffer: Would you like us to pack your big hammer?

Oliver Babbish: Don’t make fun of the big hammer. The big hammer happens to be a gavel given to my father’s father by Justice Louis Brandeis. I need a Dictaphone.

Female staffer: You’ve got one on your desk.

Oliver Babbish: It doesn’t work.

Male staffer: What’s wrong with it?

Oliver Babbish: It doesn’t work.

Female staffer: He’s asking…

Oliver Babbish: It’s stuck on record. It won’t stop recording things. So it’s just what you want lying around the White House Counsel’s office because there’s never been a problem with that before.

Female staffer: I’m putting mine in your bag. We’ll have that one fixed.

Oliver Babbish: Yeah, you know what else?

Female staffer: You’re going to go home and sleep until your plane leaves.

Oliver Babbish: I’m fine sleeping ’til well after that but somebody call me when the car’s on the way.

Assistant: Excuse me, Mr Babbish?

Oliver Babbish: I’m going home.

Assistant: That was Mr McGarry’s office. He’s on his way down with the President.

Female staffer: You should fix your tie.

Oliver Babbish: Yeah.

And a few moments later:

Oliver Babbish: Good morning, Mr President.

President Josiah Bartlet: Hey, Oliver.

Oliver Babbish: Come on in.

President Josiah Bartlet: What are the bags for?

Oliver Babbish: I was just heading out on vacation.

President Josiah Bartlet: Oh. Oh, gosh. Oliver, this…

Leo McGarry: Sir.

President Josiah Bartlet: This can keep.

Leo McGarry: Mr President…

President Josiah Bartlet: The man’s bags are packed. Where are you going?

Oliver Babbish: Sarawak.

President Josiah Bartlet: Asia’s best kept secret.

Oliver Babbish: Sir, is there something you’d like to…?

President Josiah Bartlet: It’s really not even… I don’t want you to worry that much about it.

Leo McGarry: Sir.

President Josiah Bartlet: I’m easing in.

Leo McGarry: Okay.

President: Well, Oliver, it really boils down to this. I’m going to tell you a story and then I need you to tell me whether or not I’ve engaged sixteen people in a massive criminal conspiracy to defraud the public in order to win a presidential election.

Oliver uses his gavel to destroy the Dictaphone on his desk that won’t stop recording and then says, “Okay.”

Seasons Three, Episode One – Isaac and Ishmael

This episode was specially written in response to the September 11 attacks. The first episode of season three of The West Wing was due to air the same week the planes were hijacked and crashed. Aaron Sorkin wrote this episode as a commentary on terrorism and it focuses on a man employed by the White House who has the same name as a known terrorist as well as a group of high schoolers who are trapped in the White House while the building is in lockdown.

Toby Ziegler: Kill ’em all.

Male student #1: All the Islamic extremists?

Toby Ziegler: No, I mean everyone. You’re all bothering me. I want to be left alone. Clearly the only way that’s going to happen is to be alone so I’m sorry but I’m going to have to let you all go. Except the Yankees and the Knicks. The Yankees and the Knicks are going to need someone to play so keep the Redsocks and the Lakers. And the Laker girls. And the Palm. And we’ll need to keep the people who work at the Palm. That’s it though. The Yankees, the Redsocks, the Knicks, the Lakers, the Laker girls and anyone who works at the Palm. Sports, Laker girls and a well-prepared steak. That’s all I need. Sometimes I like to mix it up with Italian. And Chinese. Alright, you can all stay but don’t bug me. You’re on probation. Don’t forget, I was this close to banishing you.

Josh Lyman: This is Toby Ziegler and actually he’s in charge of crafting our message to the public.

Toby Ziegler: And today that message is…?

Male student #2: Don’t bug me?

Toby Ziegler: That’s right.

Female student #1: Nice beard.

Toby Ziegler: My choice, sister. And by the way, there’s nothing wrong with a religion whose laws say a man’s got to wear a beard or cover his head or wear a collar. It’s when violation of these laws becomes a crime against the state and not your appearance that we’re talking about lack of choice.

Season Three, Episode Nine – The Women of Qumar

In this scene, the two most high profile women in the Bartlet administration, CJ Cregg, the White House Press Secretary, and Nancy McNally, the National Security Advisor, discuss the recent sale of weapons to the country of Qumar (a fictional nation state modelled on various Mid East countries), in which the violent and oppressive existence of the Qumari women is a daily reality. CJ has been troubled by the choice to make the sale and uses the African American heritage of Nancy to make her point.

CJ Cregg: Hi, Nancy.

Nancy McNally: I understand you’re troubled by the arms sale. The Nazis were a bad analogy. We’re not fighting a war with Qumar.

CJ Cregg: Well, this isn’t the point but we will. Of course, we will. Of course, we’ll be fighting a war with Qumar one day and you know it. So. Well, at least we’ll be familiar with the weapons they’re using.

Nancy McNally: We need Khaleifa Air Base. We refuel there and we keep AWACS radar.

CJ Cregg: We don’t need it. It’s convenient.

Nancy McNally: CJ…

CJ Cregg: We don’t need it. We’ve got Turkey, we’ve got Bahrain, we’ve got Diego Garcia. Qumar’s convenient.

Nancy McNally: Yes, it’s convenient.

CJ Cregg: They beat women, Nancy. They hate women. The only reason they keep Qumari women alive is to make more Qumari men.

Nancy McNally: So what do you want me to do about it?

CJ Cregg: How about instead of suggesting that we sell the guns to them, suggesting that we shoot the guns at them? And by the way, not to change the subject, but how are we supposed to have any moral credibility when we talk about gun control and making sure the guns don’t get into the hands of the wrong people? God, Nancy, what the hell are we defining as the right people?

Nancy McNally: This is the real world and we can’t isolate our enemies.

CJ Cregg: I know about the real world and I’m not suggesting we isolate them.

Nancy McNally: You’re suggesting we eliminate them.

CJ Cregg: I have a briefing.

Nancy McNally: You’re suggesting…

CJ Cregg: I’m not suggesting anything. I don’t suggest foreign policy around here.

Nancy McNally: You are right now.

CJ Cregg: It’s the twenty-first century, Nancy. The world’s gotten smaller. I don’t know how we can tolerate this kind of suffering anymore, particularly when all it does it continue the cycle of anti-American hatred. But that’s not the point either.

Nancy McNally: What’s the point?

CJ Cregg: The point is that apartheid was an East Hampton clambake compared to what we laughingly refer to as the life these women lead and if we had sold M1A1s to South Africa fifteen years ago, you’d have set the building on fire. Thank God we never needed to refuel in Johannesburg!

Nancy McNally: It’s a big world, CJ, and everybody has guns and I’m doing the best I can.

CJ Cregg: They’re beating the women, Nancy!

Season Three, Episode Twenty-Two – Posse Comitatus

In this scene, President Bartlet and the Republican nominee for the upcoming presidential election, Governor Ritchie, cross paths at a New York charity performance of The War of the Roses. The bodyguard of CJ Cregg, who has been protecting her as a result of recent death threats, has just been murdered in a convenience store robbery gone wrong.

Governor Robert Ritchie: Mr President.

President Josiah Bartlet: Governor.

Governor Robert Ritchie: You enjoying the play?

President Josiah Bartlet: I am. How about you?

Governor Robert Ritchie: Well, we just got here. We were at the Yankee game. We got, you know, hung up in traffic.

President Josiah Bartlet: Yeah, I know. Listen, politics aside, and I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but you probably insulted the Church. You can head it off at the pass if you speak to the Cardinal tonight.

Governor Robert Ritchie: Well, I didn’t mean to insult anybody.

President Josiah Bartlet: No.

Governor Robert Ritchie: It’s a baseball game. It’s how ordinary Americans…

President Josiah Bartlet: Yeah. No, I don’t understand that. The centre field for the Yankees is an accomplished classical guitarist. People who like baseball can’t like books?

Governor Robert Ritchie: Are you taking this personally?

President Josiah Bartlet: No. Something horrible happened about an hour ago. CJ Cregg was getting threats so we put an agent on her. He’s a good guy. He was on my detail for a while and he was in Rosslyn. He walked into the middle of an armed robbery and was shot and killed after detaining one of the suspects.

Governor Robert Ritchie: Oh. Crime. Boy, I don’t know.

President Josiah Bartlet: We should have a great debate, Rob. We owe it to everyone. When I was running as a governor, I didn’t know anything. I made them start Bartlet College in my dining room. Two hours every morning on foreign affairs and the military. You could do that.

Governor Robert Ritchie: How many different ways do you think you’re gonna find to call me dumb?

President Josiah Bartlet: I wasn’t, Rob. But you’ve turned being unengaged into a zen-like thing and you shouldn’t enjoy it so much, is all. And if it appears at times as if I don’t like you, that’s the only reason why.

Governor Robert Ritchie: You’re what my friends call a superior sonofabitch. You’re an academic elitist and a snob. You’re Hollywood. You’re weak. You’re liberal. And you can’t be trusted. And if it appears from time to time as if I don’t like you, well, those are just a few of the many reasons why.

President Josiah Bartlet: They’re playing my song. In the future, if you’re wondering, “Crime. Boy, I don’t know,” is when I decided to kick your ass.

My Top Ten TV Shows – Part One

After constructing my Top Ten Movies list with a focus on dialogue, I thought I would do the same for TV shows. I easily came up with ten well-written, witty productions – Buffy, Angel, Firefly (yes, I’m a Joss Whedon fan), Veronica Mars, Frasier, Scrubs, The OC, Dawson’s Creek, The Newsroom and The West Wing (yes, also an Aaron Sorkin fan).

You can probably identify the common theme running through all of them. At the time of their original screenings, they were known specifically for their dialogue – verbal battles, perfect slap downs, quick comebacks, dry and highly intellectual humour, all those words we wished we could come up with on the spot but never did.

However, the more I thought about it, the more strongly I felt that although I love all these shows, I could easily find a top ten list of terrific dialogue that would outshine all others in just one of these shows. And that show is The West Wing.

The West Wing is my number one favourite show of all time. The final episode screened almost a decade ago now and watching any episode is still like watching it new. This show does not age. It doesn’t live on more gloriously in my memory and then fade in comparison when I watch it again. It is still just as perfect as when I watched it for the first time.

So here’s part one of my top ten TV show pieces of dialogue all from The West Wing. I know the subject matter is not everyone’s cup of tea but watching this show is like taking a masterclass in writing.

Season One, Episode One – Pilot

This scene is in the pilot episode of The West Wing and features representatives of the Christian right attending a White House meeting led by Toby Ziegler in which Josh Lyman has apologised for insulting Mary Marsh after telling her the God she prays to is being indicted for tax fraud. In addition to the apology, Mary expects a political peace offering as well. This excerpt is the perfect, perfect introduction of President Josiah Bartlet and ends with his first appearance and line in the show.

Mary Marsh: Good then. Let’s deal.

Toby Ziegler: I’m sorry?

Mary Marsh: What do we get?

Toby Ziegler: For what?

Mary Marsh: Insulting millions of Americans.

Toby Ziegler: Well, like Josh said…

Mary Marsh: I heard what Josh said, Toby. What do we get?

Toby Ziegler: An apology.

Mary Marsh: Sunday morning radio address. Public morals, school prayer or pornography. Take your pick.

Toby Ziegler: School prayer or pornography?

John van Dyke: It’s on every street corner.

Toby Ziegler: I’ve seen it. Mary…

Mary Marsh: Condoms in the schools.

Toby Ziegler: What?

Mary Marsh: Condoms in the schools.

Toby Ziegler: Well, that’s a problem.

Mary Marsh: What?

Toby Ziegler: We have a Surgeon-General who says they dramatically reduce the risk of teen pregnancy and AIDS.

Mary Marsh: So does abstinence.

John van Dyke: Show the average American teenage male a condom and his mind will turn to thoughts of lust.

Toby Ziegler: Show the average American teenage male a lug wrench and his mind will turn…

CJ Cregg: Toby…

Mary Marsh: School prayer, pornography, condoms, what’s it gonna be?

Toby Ziegler: We’re not prepared to make any sort of a deal right now.

Josh Lyman: Sure, we are. Mary…

Mary Marsh: My read of the landscape is that you’re cleaning out your desk before the end of business today so I’d just as soon negotiate with Toby if it’s all the same to you.

Reverend Al Caldwell: Mary…

Mary Marsh: Please allow me to work. It was only a matter of time with you, Josh. That New York sense of humour was just a little…

Reverend Al Caldwell: Mary, there’s no need to…

Mary Marsh: Reverend, please, they think they’re so much smarter. They think it’s smart talk but nobody else does.

Josh Lyman: I’m actually from Connecticut but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, Mary…

Toby Ziegler: She meant Jewish. When she said “New York sense of humour”, she was talking about you and me.

Josh Lyman: You know, Toby, let’s not even go there.

Reverend Al Caldwell: There’s been an apology. Let’s move on.

John van Dyke: I’d like to discuss why we hear so much talk about the first amendment coming out of this building but no talk at all of the first commandment.

Mary Marsh: I don’t like what I’ve just been accused of.

Toby Ziegler: Well, I’m afraid that’s just tough, Mrs Marsh.

John van Dyke: The first commandment says, “Honour thy father.”

Toby Ziegler: No, it doesn’t!

Josh Lyman: Toby!

Toby Ziegler: It doesn’t!

Josh Lyman: Listen to me.

Toby Ziegler: No! If I’m going to make you sit through this preposterous exercise, we’re gonna get the names of the damn commandments right!

Mary Marsh: Okay, here we go.

Toby Ziegler: “Honour thy father” is the third commandment.

John van Dyke: Then what’s the first commandment?

President Josiah Bartlet: I am the Lord your God. Thou shalt worship no other god before me. Boy, those were the days, huh?

Season One, Episode Eight – Enemies

In this scene in the Oval Office, it’s 1.30am and the President wants to chat, while a fatigued Josh Lyman just wants to go home and sleep.

President Josiah Bartlet: Yellowstone, established through an Act signed by Ulysses S Grant, was the nation’s first national park. March first, 1872.

Josh Lyman: It’s getting late, sir. I was wondering, are we through for the evening?

President Josiah Bartlet: Well, we’re through with work, Josh. But this part’s fun.

Josh Lyman: Which part, sir?

President Josiah Bartlet: The part where I get you to sit down and teach you a little something.

Josh Lyman: Ah.

President Josiah Bartlet: Yeah.

Josh Lyman: You’re not tired, sir?

President Josiah Bartlet: No.

Josh Lyman: Perhaps if you got into bed…

President Josiah Bartlet: I’m a national park buff, Josh.

Josh Lyman: I’m sorry, sir.

President Josiah Bartlet: I say I’m a national park buff. I’ll bet you didn’t know that about me.

Josh Lyman: I didn’t know that about you, sir, but I’m certainly not surprised.

President Josiah Bartlet: Why’s that?

Josh Lyman: You’re quite a nerd, Mr President.

President Josiah Bartlet: Really?

Josh Lyman: Yes, sir.

President Josiah Bartlet: I assume that was said with all due respect.

Josh Lyman: Yes, sir.

President Josiah Bartlet: Is it nerd-like to know that Everglades National Park is the largest remaining sub-tropical wilderness in the continental United States and has extensive mangrove forests?

Josh Lyman: Just a little bit, yes, sir.

President Josiah Bartlet: There are fifty-four national parks in this country, Josh.

Josh Lyman: Please tell me you haven’t been to all of them.

President Josiah Bartlet: I have been to all of them. I should show you my slide collection.

Josh Lyman: Oh, would you?

President Josiah Bartlet: Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Badlands, Capitol Reef, Arcadia, which is so often overlooked.

Josh Lyman: You should certainly feel free to keep talking but I need to go home so that I can be back in my office in four hours.

President Josiah Bartlet: Dry Tortugas?

Josh Lyman: See, the thing is I can’t leave until you give me permission.

President Josiah Bartlet: Petrified Forest, North Cascades, Joshua Tree. Shenandoah National Park, right here in Virginia. We should organise a staff field trip to Shenandoah. I could even act as the guide. What do you think?

Josh Lyman: Good a place as any to dump your body.

President Josiah Bartlet: What was that?

Josh Lyman: Did I say that out loud?

President Josiah Bartlet: See. And I was gonna let you go home.

Josh Lyman: But instead?

President Josiah Bartlet: We’re going to talk about Yosemite.

Season One, Episode Thirteen – Take Out the Trash Day

In this scene, Toby battles Republicans wanting to know why the Federal Government is subsidising television for rich people (also known as the Public Broadcasting Service).

Female Republican staffer: Toby, your argument isn’t with us. We watch PBS, we like PBS. But we also work for Congressmen who have constituencies that want to know why the Federal Government is subsidising television for rich people.

Toby Ziegler: It’s not television for rich people.

Male Republican staffer: Ugh, Toby…

Toby Ziegler: It’s not television for rich people. In fact, the television audience is a fairly accurate reflection of the social and economic make-up of the United States. One quarter of the PBS audience is in households with incomes lower than twenty thousand a year. Blacks comprise eleven per cent of the public television audience and blacks comprise eleven per cent of the commercial TV audience. Forty-seven per cent of PBS viewers have a high school education or less, which is one per cent better than the commercial TV audience so what are you talking to me about?

Female Republican staffer: I’ve got news for you, Toby. When PBS claims that a majority of households are weekly viewers, they use the Nielsen Index that’s based on diaries.

Male Republican staffer: Those results always show vastly higher PBS viewing than the numbers gathered by the automated boxes.

Female Republican staffer: Why? Because they’re…

Toby Ziegler: Because people want to claim they’re more sophisticated than they are.

Female Republican staffer: That’s right.

Toby Ziegler: Look…

Male Republican staffer: Hang on, there’s one other thing. Uh, product licencing for Big Bird dolls and Fuzzy Bear toys…

Toby Ziegler: Fozzie Bear.

Male Republican staffer: Oh. Whatever.

Toby Ziegler: It’s Fozzie Bear, not Fuzzy Bear.

Male Republican staffer: Product licencing for this merchandise brings in over twenty million dollars a year. None of which goes to PBS. All of which goes to the show’s producer, the Children’s Television Workshop. Now this is a company whose chief executive earns high six figures in salary and benefits per year. Yet Sesame Street is subsidised by taxpayer dollars.

Toby Ziegler: It’s a perfectly reasonable complaint.

Female Republican staffer: And?

Toby Ziegler: I don’t care.

Male Republican staffer: Toby!

Toby Ziegler: We’re gonna see to all those things. In the meantime, at a time when the public is rightly concerned about the impact of sex and violence on TV, this administration is going to protect the Muppets, we’re going to protect Wall Street Week, we’re going to protect Live From Lincoln Centre and, by God, we are going to protect Julia Child!

Season One, Episode Fourteen – Take This Sabbath Day

This scene shows the introduction of one of The West Wing’s most memorable and wise characters, Joey Lucas. Joey is deaf and conducts most conversations with the help of her translator, although she can speak herself. She’s also an adept political operative and is not pleased by the Democratic Party’s attempts to cut off funding for the candidate she is trying to get elected. Josh Lyman, the subject of her anger, has been to a buck’s party the night before and is head-splittingly hungover. He also smells like a brewery and has spilled coffee on his clothes, which has assistant has taken to be dry-cleaned. In the interim, he’s wearing borrowed wet weather waders and sleeping on his desk.

Translator: Are you the unmitigated jackass who has the DNC choking off funding for the O’Dwyer campaign in the California 46th?

Josh Lyman: What in God’s name is happening right now?

Translator: I’m Joey Lucas.

Josh Lyman: You’re Joey Lucas?

Translator: No, I’m Joey Lucas.

Josh Lyman: Help me ’cause I don’t…

Joey Lucas: You idiot, I’m Joey Lucas!

Josh Lyman: Oh. Ah, okay. I’m Josh Lyman.

Translator: I know who you are.

Josh Lyman: You’re Joey Lucas?

Translator: What we’re you expecting?

Josh Lyman: A man.

Translator: I’m a woman.

Josh Lyman: You’re O’Dwyer’s campaign manager?

Translator: Yes. And I have three sources, two at the DNC…

Joey Lucas: What the hell are you wearing?

Josh Lyman: Me?

Joey Lucas: Yes.

Josh Lyman: I was… I, um… I spilled some things on my clothes. Tell you what, let’s take a deep breath for a second while I try to remember, you know, where I am right now.

Translator: Are you drunk?

Josh Lyman: I have a very delicate system.

Translator: Okay, look, I’m totally serious about this. I’m trying to get a guy elected to Congress. It’s going to be a very tight race and I want to know why the White House is screwing around with me.

Donna Moss: Excuse me?

Josh Lyman: Thank God.

Donna Moss: What’s going on?

Josh Lyman: This is my assistant, Donna Moss. Donna, Joey Lucas.

Donna Moss: Hi.

Josh Lyman: I’m just gonna go… I’m gonna go change my clothes. I’ll be right back.

And a little later after Josh has changed his clothes and returned:

Translator: I’m running a campaign against a conservative Republican who has held his seat for over thirty years. He opposed gay rights, abortion, gun control and raising the minimum wage and supports government-sponsored prayer in the schools and amending the Bill of Rights to prohibit burning the American flag. Now, for the first time in three decades we have a chance to beat him. Why are you telling the DNC to cut down my funding?

Josh Lyman: Because you have a chance to beat him.

Translator: Excuse me?

Josh Lyman: We’ve been watching your campaign. You’re doing way too well.

Translator: Are you deranged?

Josh Lyman: He’s a preposterous figure. We want to keep him right where he is.

Translator: You mean you want to keep him on as a poster boy for the radical right?

Josh Lyman: Joey, every time he comes out with one of his declarations about brown people crossing the border, the DNC slaps it into a direct mail campaign and he’s good for two or three million dollars.

Translator: I want to speak to the president.

Josh Lyman: No problem.

Translator: I’m perfectly serious.

Josh Lyman: The president doesn’t take meetings on this level. I don’t even take meetings on this level.

Translator: What level is that?

Josh Lyman: Joey…

Translator: You should be afraid of me, pal. I can create problems for you you’ve never even heard of.

Josh Lyman: I’m not hearing a lot of party loyalty from you here, Joey.

Translator: Well, maybe if your head wasn’t so far up your a…

Joey Lucas: I want to speak to the president!

Josh Lyman: Hey, lunatic lady! Trust me when I tell you that there’s absolutely no way that you are going to see the president.

President Josiah Bartlet: Hey, Josh.

Josh Lyman: Hello, Mr President. Welcome back.

President Josiah Bartlet: How are you?

Josh Lyman: Well, I’d like this day to be over pretty bad.

President Josiah Bartlet: Who are your friends?

Josh Lyman: This is Joey Lucas.

President Josiah Bartlet: How are you?

Joey Lucas: Honoured to meet you, Mr President.

Josh Lyman: And this is Kenny… somebody.

President Josiah Bartlet: Hi, Kenny.

Translator: Thurman.

Josh Lyman: We were just finishing up.

President Josiah Bartlet: I was just wandering the halls and thinking.

Josh Lyman: Well, why don’t you let me show these people off and I can wander the halls with you?

President Josiah Bartlet: You ever seen the White House?

Joey Lucas: No, sir.

President Josiah Bartlet: Let’s take a walk.

Josh Lyman: Sir…

President Josiah Bartlet: Come on.

Josh Lyman: Yes, sir.

Season Two, Episode Five – And It’s Surely To Their Credit

In this scene, the newly hired Associate Counsel, Ainsley Hayes (on her first day of work and who also happens to be a Republican) and White House Chief of Staff, Leo McGarry, discuss her new boss, Lionel Tribby.

Ainsley Hayes: He was okay with it?

Leo McGarry: He thinks it’s a great idea. He can’t wait to meet you.

Ainsley Hayes: Lionel Tribby?

Leo McGarry: Yeah.

Ainsley Hayes: Lionel Tribby thinks hiring me was a great idea?

Leo McGarry: Why are you surprised?

Ainsley Hayes: Well, because I’m a Republican and Lionel Tribby is incredibly not.

Leo McGarry: Lionel Tribby is the White House Counsel. He is a brilliant and fair-minded attorney and he will accept you on his staff because he is, well, fair-minded and because…

Ainsley Hayes: You haven’t told him.

Leo McGarry: I have, in fact, not told him yet, no.

Ainsley Hayes: So you lied to me just then.

Leo McGarry: I’m a politician, Ainsley. Of course, I lied to you just then.

Ainsley Hayes: My first day is getting off to a great start.

Leo McGarry: It’s about to get better.

Ainsley Hayes: Why?

Margaret: Leo?

Leo McGarry: Yeah?

Margaret: Lionel Tribby is on his way over.

Ainsley Hayes: Oh. I just want to die.

Leo McGarry: It’s the White House. You get used to that feeling.

Keep an eye out for Part Two on Friday.