#dramatic writing

Oops I started writing and didn't stop.

Alright. I'm a little bit (a lot a bit) nervous about "Season 3" of Good Omens. The internet's ripples of excitement over that Ineffable duo being reunited reached me through the ether and sparked a need in me to chime in. I've now put more time into Good Omens in the past month than the damn degree I'm pursuing so trust me when I say I've put a lot of thought into this.

(DISCLAIMER: I love good omens so much and this is in no way meant to trash it AT ALL I loved season 2. I also love film a lot and visual storytelling and I think this show is a masterclass in that. h o w e v e r I noticed something I've seen in other places and didn't like and wanted to plant my flag early in case Season 3 IS bad and then I can say I told you so. And if it's amazing then I win too because it's amazing. TLDR: I'm a terribly selfish bastard that just wants to win at being right :)

Since dedicating my every waking thought to these gay idiots, I've rewatched the show nonstop (4 times and counting, help me.) and scrutinized every second of it.

while crying alone in my room stuffing my face with cake, of course.

After my most recent rewatch of the Season 2 finale (7 times and counting, HELP ME HELP PLEASE) I noticed something.

They were only using the middle spectrum of shots available.

The range is pretty standard for TV, we see plenty of Medium Longs, Mid Shots, and Medium/ normal Closeups. Each are valuable tools important to the medium of television and are used effectively in GO2 to tell an excellent story with some ridiculously impactful character work. However, something about the pacing lacks a dynamic energy found in GO1 that left the visual texture feeling a bit bland to me.

I gathered an example from GO1 and GO2 trying to make them as close batches as possible to try and eliminate bias (though it's an art not science).

Both scenes involve Aziraphale and Crowley alone for one part of the clip and in conversation with a third character for the other part. I also made sure to use clips from official Prime posts in order to have the full frame.

The scene in GO2 in which Crowley first encounters the amnesia-addled Gabriel is a perfect example of the visual "texture" I'm talking about. We see the full range of shots (MLS, MS, MC, CU), which is great! Really there's nothing wrong with these shots, I love them. Medium long shot has my heart and soul. Here they fill us in beautifully on what every character is thinking or doing, but the way that it's put together leaves no room for the imagination.

The way that the camera is strictly glued to a character until they're done speaking. The way that the camera is stagnant- waiting for the characters to move to it rather than moving with the characters. The way each established angle is the only one we get.

This style is incredibly neat and tidy, but gets weary and leads to visual monotony- especially in dialogue heavy scenes such as this one. The frame suddenly feels stiff in a moment full of big emotions. I believe that this conflict (between the dynamic feel of the scene and the stiff framing of it) stifles the imagination and, to an extent (and probably just for freaks like me that are paying way too close attention) audience immersion.

Yes we know what has been said and how it was received, but how does the visual part of the show make us FEEL what has been said and how it was received.

Contrasting that tidbit with a similar moment from GO1. We see a lot of those same sort of polished mid shots where the character is dead center frame, but we're immediately sucked in by a harsh zoom. Leading to the close ups on Crowley's face to feel suffocatingly IN YOUR FACE! Their "intimate moment" is then literally cut into by Sister Mary Loquacious.

As they decide how to approach her the camera follows them as they approach her and sits comfortably over her shoulder. When we're greeted by that close up on Sister Loquacious it's followed up not long after by another from a different angle. Character's dialogue overlaps with shifting camera angles and reactions are snagged without need for verbal input. It's fast and snappy, the sort of thing you rewatch in an effort to catch every detail of the actor's work.

(here we follow Crowley visually but stay with Aziraphale audibly, creating a satisfying rubber band effect when we snap back to Aziraphale's shot)

That's all capped off by a sick exit as our two protags calmly walk through the chaos of the ruined paintball match. Cops swarm the grounds, confused office workers hand over their firearms, and smoke rises from the rubble.

This scene utilizes similar shots as the one from GO2 but uses pacing, movement, and fresh angles to create a much more interesting visual texture that better depicts the tension and emotion held in the scene.

All of this to say: I'm worried.

This trend isn't new. I've been seeing more and more TV shows that are shot in this "back and forth mid shots on character dialogue" way (often thought of as shooting for the third screen since the people who make these shows are constantly being told that they need to "write it so the guy in the back on his phone can understand it"). Some shows lean on it so hard it makes me want to barf (cough cough stranger things season five cough cough cough cough).

Now Good Omens is a fantastically written show and we ALL know how fantastic the dialogue is GO2 is, but without He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-NNNNNNNeil-Gaiman (I'm not here to chime in) I'm nervous that GO3 is going to get swept along and lobotomized in horrible ways beyond our comprehension and totally, utterly. jump. the. shark.

Now I know that it's not like this is the end of the world, god knows we have enough of that on our plates right now. Little details of composition like this are typically imperceptible unless you're the kind of nerd that really likes to get into it. Frankly GO2 was incredible none of what I pointed out could take that away - I wouldn't want it to.

The minute details might not seem like a big deal, and you might be screaming at me through your screen begging me to "let you enjoy it!" "It's just a silly show about Angels and Demons and apocalypses and stuff, just let it be silly!" But I'm afraid I'm morally opposed to your cries, dear mentally deranged gay (sorry, you have to be if you made it this far) and I must insist that these details are critical.

Film and television are incredible forms of narrative story telling that hold serious weight. Not only that, but they're also just super fun pieces of art to make and I honestly don't know how I'd make it through the day without them sometimes.

I'm not trying to say that all modern shows are bad because kids on Instagram reels are already sporting AI brain chips or some shit like that, some of my favorite shows came out in the past ten years. However. There has been a marked shift in the way that information has been transmitted in visual narrative arts since 2020 and I am not crazy. (If I had a tinfoil hat and another sugar free purple Redbull I would write 10 more pages on how that relates to the lobotomizing of queer stories by the powers that be).

God willing that 90 minute special masquerading as Season 3 is somehow going to be incredible. It's going to blow my mind and this whole post will be for nothing because it's the most beautiful conclusion to this story as could be. I can only hope they make Terry Pratchett proud.

Somewhere in my heart of hearts, though, I can't bring myself to hope that hard.

When Writing anything, anything at all, one of the things I consider the hardest to get right is the Dialogue. I'm always worried about if what I, or my characters are saying actually fits the Tone I'm going for.

So here's some fun Tests you can use for that!

(Notably I didn't come up with the one to test Romance Dialogue, but I can't remember where I saw that one originally)

Romance: Imagine Danny DeVito saying the line. Is it creepy or weird now? It's bad writing.

Serious/Dramatic: Imagine Nicholas Cage saying the line. Does it sound completely ridiculous now? It's bad writing.

Comedy: Imagine Peter Cullen (Optimus Prime/Eeyore) saying the line. Is it no longer funny? It's bad writing.

Horror: Imagine Goofy playing the character saying the line. Is it still scary? If not it's bad writing.

Want to test it?

Romance-

Bad line: "I don't like sand, it's rough, and coarse, and gets into everything"

Good line: "You have bewitched me, body and Soul"

Serious/Dramatic-

Bad line: "And not just the men, but the women, and the children too!"

Good Line: "Instead, you come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married, and you uh ask me to do murder, for money."

Comedy-

Bad Line: "Do you know what happens to a toad when it's struck by lightning? The same thing that happens to everything else."

Good Line: "I'm gonna go home and sleep with my wife!"

Horror-

Bad Line: "They’re eating her, and then they’re gonna eat me! Oh my Gooooo[sh]!!!"

Good Line: "Vampires, real vampires, didn't nibble on the necks of nubile young virgins. They tore people to pieces and sucked the blood out of the chunks."

He covets the challenge—

chase, hurdle,

labor, toil.

A man, they say:

stoic. strong. inexorable.

A marathon won,

she his gilded burden—

sentient yet supplicant,

eroded by his edicts,

until her patina clouds,

her currency hollows.

Ballast now.

With tectonic ease,

he unsheathes his claim,

watches her fracture on pavement,

then strides—

wolf-eyed—

toward blank horizons.

03-24-25

Sadie Sink to Star in New Broadway Play Sadie Sink, renowned for her captivating performance in the hit series “Stranger Things,” is set to take the stage next spring in a thought-provoking new Broadway play. This production centers around a group of high school students engaging with Arthur Miller’s classic “The Crucible” while simultaneously grappling with the profound implications of the…

Ok, so like I found this writing prompt and decided "Oooo I should make a lil snippet!" And wrote 4 pages worth of writing. Also, I'm kinda new to writing so critiques would be helpful! Enjoy the angst lol

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I gripped the mask with great force, feeling the sharp and jagged edges puncturing my skin. I stare into its sockets as if it was mocking me. It was, wasn’t it? Despite the indentions and the scratches of past trials, the mask is a symbol of blessing. It is a sign that peace and prosperity will soon come into view despite bleak times. Yet, it sits in my hands. It sits in my hands, mocking me. 

The imperfections are only a mere distraction from their pure intentions. As for me, the scars that dawn upon my rough hands are nothing to flaunt. They weren’t earned by an act of heroism, just the punishment for all my wrongdoings. It dares to mock me when it knows that is what I’ve chosen and it is who I am. It is the bed that I will lay and the deathbed it will become. 

So why, why is this mask–this mask of virtue–making a presence near my abode? 

I rear my head away in disgust, fixating my eyes on the lair that’s waiting for me. Right. That was what I was doing. I was going to make some plans and fix some coffee…maybe fix that flickering lightbulb that simply won’t go out. 

So I walked, slowly, softly whispering the number of my steps as I made my way to the piles of paperwork waiting on my desk.

Mumbling incoherently to myself, I started writing. Just another day to make some more plans. Just another day to think. Just another day to stare at that mask–wait no. Don’t give in to the way the mask leers at you. Looking down at me. Mocking me. What right does it have?

I grasp it once more, teeth grit, knuckles whitening. I gave into the pressure it used against me and instead gave the same pressure to it. I hear the sharp crack piercing through my ear. How dare it mock me? I’ll make sure that it will no longer dare again. Not again. Another sickening crack, pieces falling on the ground. Oh, how everyone thought you were tough…yet the pressure, oh the pressure is just too much. One final crack. One final one to-

“Stop.” A voice, quite faint, yet the echoes of their command were proved to be profound. 

The figure, surely stout, walked out of the darkness it once hid. Seems like that light finally gave out.

I tap my fingers languidly on the cold surface of my desk. “I had a feeling it’d be you.” My voice failed to smooth over, the cracks apparent. 

“Then you’d know why I brought-”

“I didn’t think of you to be the type to mock me.” My lip curled.

Her eyes widened, “That…That was not my intention.”

“Then what is it that you are trying to convey?” My words come out strained, as if it was a struggle to merely breathe. 

Silence was a disgusting response.

It was then met with laughter, ragged laughter. 

“You think I could play the part of a hero?”

“He was your friend!”

I scoff loudly at that, “Spare me the sentimental.” Despite the statement, my voice betrays me, spilling the disgraceful shame out of me.

 “I saw the effects he made on you.” The woman stated, “You didn’t choose to fight along The Harbinger. It was because of him, wasn’t it? Don’t you want to put his efforts to good use? The efforts he put into this city? The effort he put into you?”

“His ‘efforts’ led to his death.” I rasped, my back stiffening. “If his ‘efforts’ were so glorious, why was he publicly shamed across the state, ruthlessly murdered in the town square, and I am still here in my liar? I did nothing when he was approaching death, or when he was dying, or when he died. And I shall continue to do so because that is what I do. No hero of such.”

Her head tilts, “Have you no shame?”

I grip the mask once again, feeling the unforgiving chipped frame jabbing my skin once again.

“Why should I?” My tone slightly raised. “Why should I place myself in a position of high honor when I am in no place to commit? What tributes and great triumphs have I achieved for you to bestow me this role? None. Only the horrors that plague me and label me as the disease that I am. You think I need freeing but there is no need. I want to be like this…I must.”

I slumped back into my chair, turning my head towards that frustrating faulty lightbulb. I rub the mask beneath my fingers, feeling the freshly formed cracks against my palm.

“His name, did you know what it meant?” Her voice strips me away from any distractions I had left. 

My eyes narrow. “I never cared to learn another language, nor did I care about the clever names supers came up with. It is a sentiment I wish to continue.” My voice was laced with disinterest.

She didn’t get the hint. 

“Tàiyáng.” She began, tone earnest, “It meant sun. He was our light. Our hope. He gave those who were never given a second chance something to look up to. He was-”

My voice ruthlessly cuts through her speech. “Ohohoho. I get it.” 

I tossed the deteriorated mask, hearing another distasteful crack as it landed on the hard floor. My chair topples over from the speed at which I stand. It’s all mockery.

“Next you’re going to say, ‘This is what he wanted’, right?” My steps echo across the room, persistent. “That this is my chance to ‘prove myself’ to rebuild myself. That he was supposed to be my holy light that helps me cross the gates of heaven and sing hallelujah!”

I fling my arms open, molding myself a smile that is only vacuous and filled with utmost contempt. 

“You don’t understand-”

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND?” I interrupted once more, with guttural resonance. “I have toiled away for years to carve out the path that I now walk upon. Ever since I placed my feet in this building I have understood. I understand that a being like myself doesn’t need any redemption, for there is nothing to be redeemed. A being like myself understands that I am a mere puppet for those who have reached much greater stratagems. To those who are blessed by the people, I am a shadow.”

My hands grasp at something, but there is nothing to grasp. The alternative was to dig my fingernails into my palms.

“And you taunt me with his mask? The sole symbol of pure good, in the hands of someone who has dirtied themselves with sins, with piles of innocent bodies weighing on their back. Tell me, look me in the eyes!” My brows furrow, my hands shake, my vision getting blurrier by the minute.

“Look into my eyes and tell me, do I look like somebody who has any clean part of me to spare to wear the mask of the esteemed hero that has a reputation of a god? Why would a god have faith in me?” I rasp, taking another sharp breath.

“Why did you ever-why did he ever think he could-” My back arches as I no longer have the strength to hold myself up, no longer do I have the power to hold the heavy weight off the sins on my back. 

But I must. I must because I have spent years of my life dedicated to play this part. To take the awful risks you must endure when taking this dark path. If not, what will become of the mask I use to create this identity I have sculpted to my liking? What will become of me?

I try to stand, but I cannot. Not anymore. The only comfort I hear is the deafening silence.

“You…You don’t have to change.” The women whispered, words spoken with great delicacy.

“You can still be Nefās after this. You can still continue your years of work. You have carried many atrocities, that much is true. But the people only see the mask and the apparel you wear that hold the history of these actions.” She took her steps, softly and slowly.

“If you take on a new identity, with clothes,” She takes the cracked mask, holding it gently, “and a mask that holds no history, you can carve out a new path. Only this once. No strings, no catch, no anything. You’ll be pristine.” The hero falls on one knee, lingering for a slight moment before moving the mask closer toward me.

“How can I fake such ethics? All I ever knew was..” I wavered.

“Tàiyáng saw something in you. If you truly believe that you cannot be redeemed, that what he saw in you was a facade, then you can do it again.” 

I lift my head slightly, raising my hand to touch the irrefutable damage. My damage is now a part of the mask’s history.

I take a shallow breath. “It’s broken.”

“It can be fixed.” The women swiftly replied, with a a tinge of desperation. “The damage may still be noticeable, but think of it like this–it’ll have a fresh start. You can…add your own little flair.” There was a slight raise in her voice, perhaps an attempt of some levity.

Could I, the one with the scars that are sneered at in disgust ever be seen as blessings? Adored by the same people who have seen me turn things to ruin, with their eyes, staring into my mask to see what secrets I’ve kept that willed me into the monster that I am.

I looked into the sockets of the mask once more, peering into the dark sockets that had mocked me so many times. Yet, no mockery appeared in that mask any longer. Is it pity? Remorse? 

Why would this mask show me remorse? Does it know of the same pains that I have experienced? Are there scars that hold only shame covered by the good deeds of others? 

What secrets has it kept for its owner, so Tàiyáng wouldn’t face the same fate as all it’s enemies? A fate of mine. 

If Tàiyáng did cover all these secrets…would that be the reason he-

I swallow up my bile, grunting in revulsion. I shake my head as if the callous thought would simply vanish. 

I will make my decision. A new trail, just for a while. Just to complete the revenge people long for. What I long for. The vengeance for Tàiyáng. The friend of many and.. the friend of mine. Just another body to be stacked. The feeling will be different. It won’t weigh.

I touch the mask, I hesitate, before gingerly scooping up the object and bringing it up to my rough face. It conveyed warmth, compared to the chilling metallic mask I had worn.

“What’s it like, Nefās?” She softly asked

“Fās.”

“...Fās?”

“If I’m going to start anew, what is better than to start with a name?” I say as I stand back onto my feet.

“Not a little on the nose?” 

“Considering the fact that I’ve just now switched sides, I would say it is good for now.”

“Fair point.” There was a short pause. “What will your first course of action be, Fās?”

After wiping the leftover grime off my tattered suit, I positioned the mask more comfortably. 

With my chin held high I took a slow deep breath, “Fixing that mind-numbing light bulb.” I sigh.

Alright! You all voted for JJ/John B(at least they're in the lead lol) That means you are getting a portion that is way farther into the chapter than I originally planned to give, therefore will know a lot more, you sly dogs lol. Also way less of a cliff hanger then if I were deciding, believe it or not! 😭

Let me know what you think and if this is something you'd like to see again. Kinda fun to see what people would like and give you some things early.

-Lis 🖤