Exaggerating for Effect
Created | Updated Jan 13, 2013
Words, words, words. That's what we're made of. Herewith some of my thoughts on what we're doing with them.
Writing Right with Dmitri: Exaggerating for Effect
If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. . . don't exaggerate.
Nonsense. In the words of Francis Bacon, 'There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion.' Bacon knew what he was talking about, because he was pretty strange. In fact, the King of England once said about a book Bacon wrote, 'It is like the peace of God, it passeth understanding.' You know how Bacon died, right? From inventing frozen chicken. (Of course you knew that: you read the Edited Guide.)
Now, you try to tell the story about the Ghost Chicken of Highgate without exaggerating, just a little bit. I dare you.
But still, of a winter's night, they say, when the wind howls around the street corners, a lonely pedestrian will look over his shoulder and shudder when he hears the phantom cry of bwaw-awk coming from the housing estate. . .
You get the idea.
When we write fiction, we exaggerate events. Just a little. Just enough to make them clearer. It's a lot like the way an artist will pick up a telling detail and draw attention to it. Take the book cover at right, for instance. What are you expecting from the book inside this jacket? A gloomy thriller? An erudite discussion of social issues? Or something light, fluffy, amusing, fashionable? Did the slight exaggeration of the lady's expression give this away? What hints do you get from the oversized collar and unbelievable hat? As Hattie McDaniel once said, 'Ain't nobody got hair that colour.'
Exaggerating for effect is a way to signal the audience what to expect. If you're watching Mr Bean, his facial expressions warn you that if you crave subtlety, you should go elsewhere. The curl of Betty Boop's hair lets you in on the secret that here the jokes will be trendy and sophisticated – at least, by the standards of the early 1930s.
What signals are you sending in your fictional descriptions? Is your exaggeration subtle, or is it a dig in the ribs, like the 'Nudge, Nudge' sketch?
Man: Oh! Well, never mind. Dib dib? Is your uh, is your wife interested in....photography, ay? 'Photographs, ay', he asked him knowingly?
Squire: Photography?
Man: Snap snap, grin grin, wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more?
[. . . ]
Squire: No, no I'm afraid we don't have a camera.
Man: Oh. (leeringly) Still, mooooooh, ay? Mwoohohohohoo, ay? Hohohohohoho, ay?
Squire: Look. . . are you insinuating something?
Man: Oh, no, no, no. . . yes. – Monty Python's Flying Circus sketch.
In the end, far more is exposed by that exaggeration than a comic leer.
How you choose to exaggerate will affect your character's ability to manoeuvre. Please keep this in mind when saddling him/her with overdrawn characteristics. How seriously we are able to take the character's dilemma may depend on what we feel about the foibles you've given the players.
Take this fellow:
John Person: No, Dan, I'm waiting to deliver a mysterious suitcase to a hooker-killing cowboy who's supposed to give me $27,000. On top of that I've got my neighbor's head in a bowling ball bag under my sink. – The Big Empty.
Does it help when we realise that John Person (his stage name) is a nondescript-looking wannabe actor, and the guy he's talking to hangs around a truck stop diner, talking about UFOs? That the cowboy in question is an alien from outer space whose motives are far from transparent? (Although that dialogue isn't an accurate depiction of the situation. . . but we'll avoid spoilers here. You will want to see this movie.)
Cowboy: There's been a little hitch in the giddy-up. – The Big Empty.
How plausible is that line?
How plausible is that line when recited by Sean Bean in a Yorkshire accent, as it is in the film? Could you describe this in prose, in such a way that the reader gets what you're going for? Somewhere in the film, John questions Cowboy's choice of attire – a long duster, leather trousers, and a Stetson hat. Sheffield's finest space alien replies mildly, 'Oh? You don't lahk it?'
That, my friend, is what we mean by exaggerating for effect.
Too much exaggeration, and you lose sympathy. How much of our dislike for Fagin in Oliver Twist is due less to his criminal activity, and more to his undignified manner? Can the same be said for David Copperfield's Uriah Heep? Could we take these characters seriously as protagonists? Of course not. Not even as anti-heroes. However, we've put up with far worse from far less savoury characters, just because they seemed more sympathetic. James Bond, anyone?
Exaggeration can give a character a lot to fight against. Sometimes, when the character is really good, when he fights against those obstacles, he becomes great. Do you remember the 17th-century man with the ridiculous nose and the penchant for writing science fiction? Of course you do:
Roxane: I have marred your life – I, I!
Cyrano: You blessed my life!
Never on me had rested woman's love.
My mother even could not find me fair,
I had no sister; and, when grown a man,
I feared the mistress who would mock at me.
But I have had your friendship – grace to you
A woman's charm has passed across my path.
[. . .]
Cyrano: Hark you, Le Bret! I soon shall reach the moon
To-night, alone, with no projectile's aid! – Cyrano de Bergerac.
For the record, Hercule-Savinien de Cyrano de Bergerac's nose probably wasn't that big. He was possibly bisexual, and he may have had an affair with his (girl) cousin. Oh, and he has had an asteroid named after him.
We might exaggerate, and call it a planet.
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