Auditioning
In a class on auditioning, the instructor Leslie encouraged actors to rethink the auditioning process. "It's not a popularity contest," she said. "It's problem-solving. The director has roles to fill, and she is looking for the best possible fit for the parts. An actor may be very talented but if he doesn't right for the role, there's no point in using him. The director is looking for the round peg to fit into the round hole."
I found it a helpful metaphor, so now when I audition, I try to present my best work in the hope that it will fit their needs. It's not about whether they like me as a person. It's about building the best cast to put on the best possible production.
What if you did the same thing with your novel’s characters? What if you tried them out in a few scenes to see if they fit the story’s needs?
When I was working on Dead Hungry, I stumbled upon this auditioning process. I had written a scene that takes places in an Ethics course, in which the professor and students are discussing Consequentialism – the theory that the consequences of a person’s actions are the ultimate basis for whether they are right or wrong. Given that the novel is about Ghouls in modern-day Chicago, of course the class discussion ends up focusing on the acceptability of cannibalism.
In the first draft of the scene, the main character Tucker was in the class, but no matter what, I couldn’t get him to engage in the topic. He sat on the sidelines while other students wrestled the problem. The fact that he refused to get involved told me something about how he faces (or doesn’t face) difficult ethical issues.
Next up was Samara; she took over Tucker’s spot in the class. She was more involved in the discussion, but because of her training as a social worker, she was all about providing practical services to the cannibals. Nice intention but it didn’t work.
Then came Darien, the philosopher in the cast of characters. Given his proposed trajectory in the novel – his curiosity about Ghoul Culture – it made sense for him to engage the subject. The scene is the catalyst for him to consider the ethics of Ghoulism: how and why different groups are accepted into society, and others are not.
Even though I considered the scene important to the overall story, I came close to cutting it. I kept it in because I needed the theoretical discussion of cannibalism in a classroom setting to contrast the later, life-on-the-streets experience of the Ghouls. Neither Tucker nor Samara had the motivation to get properly involved in the discussion; they had other issues on their plates.
But Darien was the perfect character to engage the topic. His contemplative nature helped save the scene from being cut. It leant it the legitimacy to stay in the book.
So, Darien won the part. He was the round peg for the round hole.
I found it a helpful metaphor, so now when I audition, I try to present my best work in the hope that it will fit their needs. It's not about whether they like me as a person. It's about building the best cast to put on the best possible production.
What if you did the same thing with your novel’s characters? What if you tried them out in a few scenes to see if they fit the story’s needs?
When I was working on Dead Hungry, I stumbled upon this auditioning process. I had written a scene that takes places in an Ethics course, in which the professor and students are discussing Consequentialism – the theory that the consequences of a person’s actions are the ultimate basis for whether they are right or wrong. Given that the novel is about Ghouls in modern-day Chicago, of course the class discussion ends up focusing on the acceptability of cannibalism.
In the first draft of the scene, the main character Tucker was in the class, but no matter what, I couldn’t get him to engage in the topic. He sat on the sidelines while other students wrestled the problem. The fact that he refused to get involved told me something about how he faces (or doesn’t face) difficult ethical issues.
Next up was Samara; she took over Tucker’s spot in the class. She was more involved in the discussion, but because of her training as a social worker, she was all about providing practical services to the cannibals. Nice intention but it didn’t work.
Then came Darien, the philosopher in the cast of characters. Given his proposed trajectory in the novel – his curiosity about Ghoul Culture – it made sense for him to engage the subject. The scene is the catalyst for him to consider the ethics of Ghoulism: how and why different groups are accepted into society, and others are not.
Even though I considered the scene important to the overall story, I came close to cutting it. I kept it in because I needed the theoretical discussion of cannibalism in a classroom setting to contrast the later, life-on-the-streets experience of the Ghouls. Neither Tucker nor Samara had the motivation to get properly involved in the discussion; they had other issues on their plates.
But Darien was the perfect character to engage the topic. His contemplative nature helped save the scene from being cut. It leant it the legitimacy to stay in the book.
So, Darien won the part. He was the round peg for the round hole.
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