Welcome To The Show - Abra

I always say, as my mother said before me, life ain’t no fun without a little colour. Though I tend to scrap the “little” – if less is more, I’m queen o’ the biscuit gnomes.

Me name’s Abra – at least, that’s me stage name. “Abrakadabra” if you want the full version. I work the high ropes and trapeze with a travelling show currently based in the dirty great mess of a city called Scatterank, sometimes with a bit o’ dancing if the folks are in the right mood for it. It’s a hairy business, and it can get right squicky when things go wrong, but it’s taught me things.
Not in the least the value of suspension. Suspension of disbelief, that is.

The audience will raise their belief as high as they can, but you’ve gotta give ‘em something to rest it on. Smoke and mirrors it may be, but in that moment there ain’t nothing more real than what you and your friends are doing on that stage.

It’s called “drama” for a reason.

If you have a show with no tension, there ain’t a show. You gotta keep people interested, else they’ll take up their hats and storm out and leave you with not a scrap to pay your rent with.

So to up the drama in anything – performance, story or anything at all, you need your smoke and mirrors.

Here’s an inside look at the ones that work best. Trust me, I have a very good view from where I’m sitting.

I’ll start with me Mam’s favourite – colour. It pays to be imaginative with it, ‘cause nobody’s gonna sniff nothing of yours if it don’t look interesting. Giving people a touch of the colour makes it more real, ‘cause no matter what the scientists say, I refuse to believe we dream in black and white. And if you make it real, they’ll believe it. Keep it sensible, though. Anyone who says they met a lady with “emerald eyes” and “fuschia lips” is either drunk or trying to sell you something. Possibly the lady herself.

Next up, sound. It’s not something many think of, but any of you who’s been to them moving-picture things will know that it’s always the music that gets you. Don’t tell her I told you this, but Charley always starts cryin’ in a certain scene in Lord of the Rings ‘cause of the music. If you can’t use music, though, make sure you describe your sounds where appropriate. Battles, dances, whispered conversations heard from the rafters – they sound about as alike as chalk, cheese and a kangaroo. But what sort of cheese? That’s the sort of detail I mean.

Costumes next – me personal greatest irk. There’s nothing harder than dragging your tired, grumpy carcass up the wires in a costume that bites your ribs like a dog with a bad case o’ the mange. Think about it – if a soldier turns up to duty in a pink tutu and a flowery hat, he’d be laughed out of the country. Your costume is part of your identity on stage, and the same goes for folks in books, except they can’t dress ‘emselves without you working it out first. An’ for mercy’s sake, make sure you know the style and period o’ dress you’re working with. Elsewise you look a right Mediaeval cracknob at your Victorian-era dig.

I’ll finish off on sommat fun. A good friend o’ mine, Rembrandt, he’s one of them poetic types that runs around shoutin’ metaphors from rooftops (and that’s when he’s sober – it gets far more colourful once he’s had a cup or two). He’s a great words man, and his stuff sells like hot cakes on a Sunday. But once I got hold of a rough journal of his, and I got so lost in all the frills and frippery I hadn’t a clue what he was on about! Turns out it don’t take that long for him to write the thing the first time – what takes up all his time is cutting out all the rubbish that’s snuck in while he wasn’t looking. Near drives him crazy getting rid of it all, and there’s at least one notebook that’s ended up in the fireplace or speared on something pointy over the mantelpiece.

Watch your fluff, it’s deadly stuff.

Hope I’ve made some sense for you, folks. Love and kisses all round – come see me in a show sometime, I’ll get you good seats so you can get best view of the fun!

Kisses,

~ Abra

Best Laid Plans - Vidal

Something very amusing happened to me last week, you know.

It must have been sometime in the evening when some strange gibbering furry creature came bounding into my presence, looking very flustered and waving a piece of paper in front of my face. Once my mind had dropped to the appropriate level of intelligence, I deciphered the near illegible scrawl as a note, asking me to write some manner of themed article for the blog of my authoress – who, you doubtless have realised, is the aforementioned noisemaking hairball. She requested that I word my post based around the theme of some dull and dreary story-planning technique, because – the note assured me – I was one of the few who had the necessary skills.

The thing that amused me so much was that she thought I would listen.

There are very few things in life that I have patience for, and regrettably my creator has yet to make it onto the list. She can find any innumerable number of sycophantic fools in my city of Tanelorn alone to prate on about the pros and cons of pre-planned stories over improvised ones - they follow her orders out of fear of becoming victim to any member of her vast array of weaponry.

They have yet to work out the art that I am going to inform you of today, my friends. That of subtle insubordination.

First of all, know your enemy. And by that I do not mean memorising their favourite foods and what colour clashes worst with their off-coloured toenails. I mean know your enemy, the way you know your route home from your friend’s house, or the way your cat will invariably vomit its dinner onto the rug if you don’t give it the correct number of tummy rubs after supper. Know them so well that their behaviour is second nature. Know them better than they know themselves.

This is the true secret of success. Now, whenever you act, or even contemplate acting, you will not have to waste precious seconds thinking out your foe’s reaction. Because those seconds are going to make all the difference between your victory, and the local law enforcement scraping your entrails off the wall the next morning.

Next, you must gather your resources. Information, allies, weapons, jars of congealed fish guts, whatever you need for your current endeavour. Don’t waste time with things that “might come in useful”. Those are the things that you will trip over and impale yourself on later – literally, or metaphorically.

If you didn’t know what you were going to need beforehand, please stop reading and go and drown yourself quietly in a corner. It will save your enemy the trouble of doing it themselves.

The next stage is the truly dangerous part. Before you put so much as a hair over the threshold of action, you need to think long and hard about your course of action. But whatever you do, do not plan it out in detail. Detailed plans are all too easily derailed by the smallest thing, and that’s when the fur flies. One or two key events – particularly, personal interaction with your foe – are all you need, no matter how long your endeavour. Those markers are the only pre-planned action you will take. The rest, to put it bluntly, is nothing more than spontaneous acts of inspired improvisation. Make the most of your resources – you got them because you knew you needed them. Not because you knew why.

After this, there is the simple matter of taking the leap and hoping you reach the other side. Odds are you won’t – your enemy may have taken the bait you laid for them, but there is always some unknown factor waiting in the wings to scupper best laid plans. Do whatever you must to ensure your goal. Those of you who are squeamish over breaching moral codes will doubtless fail spectacularly at this.

The only action you should never take is to give up, for success can come from the most unexpected outcomes. I once knew a certain half-breed bastard who took the wrong side during the bloodiest civil war my people have ever known. By the end of it, the Crossblood was a Kingmaker.

Charming fellow, by the way. If a little smug.

We are all deer, my friends. Deer who snort and run around in circles the moment the wolf shows its teeth before the herd. The best hope the deer have is to run – those who hesitate, or attempt some act of altruistic stupidity, will die bloody deaths to stand example for the rest. However, the clever deer know they don’t have to outrun the wolf. Just the other deer.

Wouldn’t you say this was a far greater use of your time than reading about “brainstorming” and “plot milestones” and “flexible approaches to ad-libbing”.

Wait.

Ah.

Well played, author. Well played.

- Vidal