Tuesday, 22 March 2011

Adaptations II

Adaptations?  I generally hate them, for exactly the reasons that Sharmila describes. How often have we squirmed through slash-and-burn celluloid travesties of cherished novels, wincing at the wooden acting of Hollywood’s latest simpering starlet? How many times have we wailed “But they’ve left out the subplot/most important character/half the story! It doesn’t make sense without it!” Most of the time, I don’t want to see the whole inner world I’ve lovingly constructed so crudely dismantled, or the character’s faces I’ve decided on substituted for an unwelcome intruder. But sometimes, once in a while, just when you think they’re not going to, things work out well. One of the best adaptations I have seen in many years is Dexter, based on a series of novels by Jeff Lindsay, which just seems to get better and better. The first series began as an adaptation of the first novel, Darkly Dreaming Dexter. The main character, Dexter Morgan, is a serial killer (yes, my fellow Write on Essex members, I can hear you all groaning), who is polite, friendly, kind to his wife and children, and all the other things monsters aren’t supposed to be. The books deal cleverly and wittily with Dexter’s inner life and explore how he reconciles psychopathy and a penchant for dismemberment with a ‘normal’ family and working life. Dexter kills only those who 'deserve' it; child molesters, wife beaters, other serial killers and all kinds of horrible lowlife. He is the hero, however morally ambiguous, and the reader cheers him on at every stage. Maybe it’s because he rids the world of those who really shouldn’t be in it, something we would love to do, but can’t; he is the agent of our revenge. So, how does it work on television? Besides other advantages such as excellent scriptwriting, strong characterisation, fine acting and quirky plotting, I think it is because the writers have used their source creatively. After the first series, the television Dexter has developed quite differently to the subsequent novels. Characters long removed from the television series remain present in the books and vice versa; the stories are different, but recognisably the same. The books and the TV series co-exist happily and I can enjoy both for what they are – and that’s how I know this adaptation works.
A few years ago, I did an interesting piece of work for a writing course. We were asked to dramatise the story of Cinderella, but find a fresh way of presenting it. While that might sound straightforward, it isn’t, and I soon found out there were big questions to be answered. How do you find that new approach in a story everyone knows? How do you make characters, in fact stock fairy-tale tropes, come to life on screen (or radio, which I’d chosen)? How would these people actually talk to each other instead of their communication being subsumed into the storyteller’s voice?  The process of adapting this piece did improve my writing, to answer Sharmila’s question, because it improved my reading. I went back to the original source. Although I know the Cinderella story, I don’t think I’d ever read the Brothers Grimm version. Looking for a different way to present it, I read it carefully and made a note of all the twists and turns and any minor characters I hadn’t noticed because the Ugly Sisters, the Fairy Godmother, the Handsome Prince and the Glass Slipper had got in the way. In fact, I’d missed a lot.  That’s how I found the new angle. I used a minor character’s perspective, in one of the settings that usually takes second place to Cinderella’s kitchen. Radio drama works largely through dialogue, so I chose to tell the story by adding another minor character; I framed it in a conversation between two courtiers at the ball, and went from there. I felt that I learnt a lot in the process of adapting Cinderella; how to manipulate characterisation and plot, and how to convey a familiar story in a different medium. It’s not always easy. I’m still not sure I like adaptations, though!

Monday, 21 March 2011

It wasn't as good as the book - the perils of adaptation

Does anything provide a more curious sensation of intrigue coupled with mild discombobulation than the news of a favourite novel being adapted for the screen? You can hardly wait to find out who’s directing and who’s cast. Yet you tremble with trepidation every time you read some nugget of showbiz gossip from the set, unconsciously repeating the imperative “Don’t screw it up!”

Never Let Me Go is a case in point. I’d been in a state of nervous anticipation about the film, ever since reading that Keira Knightley was set to star. Now having seen it, I must admit that Knightley was all right, but the film itself was rather boring. The narrator of Never Let Me Go obsessively rehashes the mundane incidents of the past and the second-hand gossip that circulated amongst her friends to make sense of her life. Maybe this sort of thing doesn’t make for the most thrilling of films. Strangely though, the adaptation jettisons the most filmic aspect of the novel, the slowly revealed “twist”. For me, it doesn’t really work as a film in its own right. You would need to read the book to understand the relationship between Kathy and Ruth, as the film doesn’t allow for a proper exploration of their characters.

Perhaps the television serial is the better outlet for the literary adaptation? Saying that, the recent Channel 4 effort with William Boyd’s Any Human Heart left me cold. Despite each of the four episodes lasting as long as a feature film the story was rushed, the characters hollow and the dialogue stilted and unnatural – and this was adapted by Boyd himself!

Of course there are plenty of adaptations that do work, often period pieces with a straightforward narrative structure. Yet sometimes the best results come when the adaptor boldly disregards the source material and makes something entirely new out of the story. I must admit, it seems to me that one’s judgement of the success of a literary adaptation is clouded by how much you cared for the original novel in the first place.

My dream adaptation project would be to write a teleplay of Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy. This was famously filmed in 1951 as A Place in the Sun starring Montgomery Clift, Elizabeth Taylor and Shelley Winters. Although the film is acknowledged as a classic, even its most ardent fans must admit that it radically departs from the novel. I would want to dramatise Clyde’s youth, which A Place in the Sun entirely skips. The film romanticises the relationship between Clyde (George Eastman in the film) and Elizabeth Taylor’s character (Sondra in the book, Angela(!) in the film), creating a conventional love story at the expense of the satirical aspect of the novel. In summary, I would like to show it as the state-of-the-nation piece I think it is. Boardwalk Empire, the new series on HBO, covers roughly the same period though, so I guess has just beaten me to it – perhaps I could borrow their sets?

Share your thoughts on literary adaptations in the comments. Is there a particular novel that you would like to see on screen? Or, like me, do you intend to write that epic, twenty-part Bafta award-winning serial yourself one of these days?

Just a little Harry Crews Guidance

Gravel voiced and gritty - Harry Crews gives some excellent writing advice in this video. You don't have to have all the answers. The true artist, if he or she is writing something and it has all taken a wrong turn, stops. And starts again. It takes courage...


Wednesday, 9 March 2011

Poetry Competition

Write on Essex has receieved an annoucement regarding the 6th Annual Virginia Warbey Poetry Prize 2011 We Googled this award and were pleased to see that winners are included in anthologies that are available on Amazon! If you fancy entering here are the details: 

        Judges: Chandlers Ford Writers
            1st Prize = £600
            2nd Prize = £300
            3rd Prize = £150
        10 runners up prizes of £25

    Entry fee £4.00/poem (£15 for 4)

    A prizegiving event will be held in October, and an anthology
    of winning poems will be available.

    Entries to be postmarked by May 19th 2011.  
    Entry forms and full details from:

        CFW Poetry
        PO Box 474
        Eastleigh
        SO50 0AN

    Details and downloadable entry forms available at: 


    For further details or information, please contact  
       Claire Gradidge   almejas188@hotmail.com

Monday, 7 March 2011

Rule One – Don't get stuck on the title

I’m sure I’m not alone in often finding writing very difficult. I procrastinate, then feel guilty, which for some perverse reason makes me procrastinate even more. Last year I hit upon a few strategies and simple rules to keep me writing. I am also easily discouraged and expect instant greatness from a first draft, so a few of my maxims are aimed at counteracting that pressure. I am certainly not purporting to have found a magic formula for authorial success, and if you ask on what authority I give these recommendations, certainly it is not from the perspective of a literary heavyweight. You should probably pay more attention when Margaret Atwood tells you to eat shade-grown, organic dark chocolate to cure writer’s block and not only because she’s advocating the consumption of chocolate – she is a Booker prize winner after all. And as for my own rules, I can’t even claim that I follow them to the letter. However, perhaps I would be a happier and better writer if I did.

  1. Just because what you’re writing doesn’t seem to come easily or naturally, it doesn’t mean you aren’t any good. Writing is hard work.
  2. Take as long as you need. Your writing will need time and dedication to reach its potential. Don’t feel inferior because you don’t work quickly.
  3. Enjoy telling your story. Relish every word.
  4. Listen to the advice of other writers if it seems helpful – but don’t be afraid to disregard what you don’t agree with. There is clearly no one recipe for success.
  5. Keep writing and inventing.

If you have any tips that keep you feeling inspired and creative, why not share them below? This post was partly inspired by a Guardian article from last year – Ten Rules for Writing Fiction, where various authors offered their own advice. I especially like the first rule from Roddy Doyle – “Do not place a photograph of your ­favourite author on your desk, especially if the author is one of the famous ones who committed suicide.” Which rules do you think are the most helpful?