For instance, a couple has a fight, he stomps to the kitchen, they sulk for a few minutes, then he peeks around the corner and says: "I'm sorry, honey."
Bore. Bore. Bore.
What if he peeked around the corner and said her three favorite words (we know they are her favorite words because they have joked about it previously in the story) : "Want grilled cheese?"
See that? There's some character there. There's a relationship there. There are PEOPLE living in this scene. And if you don't think of your characters as living breathing people you are probably already in trouble. But that's another blog for another time.
In the first example above, the "I'm sorry, honey." is the generic, one size fits all characters, absolutely ON THE NOSE writing that should be punishable by going to your room and being banned from using the alphabet ever again.
To stay OFF THE NOSE we use subtext and bring our work to life!
One of my favorite examples of subtext is from the great film, 'The Apartment', with Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine and Fred McMurray (Edie Adams also does a wonderful turn as MacMurray's bitchy leopard print clad secretary).
In the film Jack Lemmon is C.C. Baxter, a cog in the wheel of a giant insurance corporation. Now, keep in mind this was 1960 and in those days couples could not check into a hotel unless they could prove they were married. Yup. Imagine that.
So. C.C. has an apartment that is used by upper management types as a convenient place for illicit trysts. One of those involved in an affair is Fran (Shirley MacLaine), the elevator operator in his building that he has a crush on. Fran is having an affair with, and sadly is in love with, Sheldrake (MacMurray), who keeps promising to leave his wife.
The writing, by I.A.L. Diamond (great name!) and Billy Wilder is stellar throughout: funny and fast and poignant and multi-layered. My example of subtext comes from the scene in a Chinese restaurant, the old favorite haunt of Fran and Sheldrake. At this point it has been several weeks since Fran has told Sheldrake to bug off, finally tiring of his promises to leave his wife. Sheldrake has talked her into meeting him at the restaurant to try to win her back, while still making excuses...
In the hands of lesser writers the scene might have gone like this...
...as we focus on them in the booth the piano player is playing what he always plays, the same food is on the table that is always on the table...
Sheldrake: How long has it been - about a month?
Fran: It's been exactly six weeks.
Sheldrake: I've missed you.
Fran: You always say that.
Sheldrake: It's been hell.
Fran: Does that mean you love me?
Sheldrake: You know I do.
Fran: So you say. Again.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZ...right?
This is how it was handled in 'The Apartment.'
SHELDRAKE
How long has it been -- a month?
FRAN
Six weeks. But who's counting?
SHELDRAKE
I missed you, Fran.
FRAN
Like old times. Same booth, same
song --
SHELDRAKE
It's been hell.
FRAN
(dipping shrimp)
-- same sauce -- sweet and sour.
Sweet...right? They've said the same things, but in a much more intriguing way.
So, let's break it down:
SHELDRAKE
How long has it been -- a month?
He's more cavalier about the relationship - he's not sure exactly how long it's been since he's seen her.
FRAN
Six weeks. But who's counting?
Fran is in love with him. She knows exactly how long it's been since she's seen him. She says how long it's been then adds a defensive bit of casualness of her own with 'But who's counting?' She's hurting and trying to protect herself by appearing as uncaring as he.
SHELDRAKE
I missed you, Fran.
Well, he's missed the sex. And maybe he's missed somebody to bitch to about the ball and chain at home but it sounds like a hollow effort.
FRAN
Like old times. Same booth, same
song --
Well, she's heard this about a hundred times. He's said it all a hundred times. But nothing ever changes. It's lovely in the film, she glances at the piano player as she delivers the line.
SHELDRAKE
It's been hell.
It has been hell for Sheldrake. This is a man who is used to getting what he wants. Now he's not getting what he wants and that is his narcissist's version of 'hell'.
FRAN
(dipping shrimp)
-- same sauce -- sweet and sour.
My favorite line in the whole scene. He's trying to wear her down with talk about how broken he's been, how tough it's all been for him being without her, meaning, somewhere in there, he must really love her. The sweet part of the sauce, the sour is the emptiness of his words, the same old words.
You can't get that kind of emotional context with on the nose writing. It's a beautifully written scene.
If you haven't seen 'The Apartment' I urge you to do so. It won many Oscars including 'Best Picture'.
Adding subtext to your work is not that difficult, sometimes it will come naturally from the situation. But if it doesn't simply go over your scene and look for different ways characters can express what they want to say without saying it directly and hitting that damned nose!
And now...a scene from 'The Apartment'...wherein C.C. learns the unfortunate truth about Fran.
Enjoy and happy writing!
