“I hate snakes.” You know what I’m talking about. This one simple line, and littering the first movie with snakes that Indy can react to, gives the audience a quality they can identify with and latch onto in the hero.

It also opened up opportunities, such as the scenes in Last Crusade where they show a young Indy falling into a train car full of snakes, illustrating where his phobia came from. Later, when Indy is making his way through a sewer full of rats, he makes a comment to the effect that his father wouldn’t have made it past the rats. Like father, like son. One hates rats, the other hates snakes.

It’s so simple. Some might say even shallow. But it is a character tic that is nonetheless endearing, and defines an inner part of an iconic character. Besides, it gives the storytellers an excuse to throw snakes into each story. And as the audience we may be suckers, but we never get tired of it.

What does your hero hate?

In The Bourne Identity, when Bourne shoots the assassin played by Clive Owen, as the assassin is dying he says to Bourne, “Look at what they make you give.”

In the third movie, The Bourne Ultimatum, as Bourne finally discovers the truth of his identity and is forced into a showdown, he says, “Look at what they make you give.” I thought it was clever that they had Bourne come full circle and echo Clive Owen’s line from the first movie.

Likewise some of the actions and lines used by the character Reese in the original Terminator movie end up being echoed by the reprogrammed friendly T-101 in Terminator 2: Judgment Day. They even revisit a final fight in a factory, but instead of Reese bashing an evil T-101 with a pipe, it’s a good T-101 bashing the evil T-1000. In Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, after slowing down the female T-X model, Arnold proclaims, “She’ll be back.”

In the TV show Jericho, there is a flashback featuring the grandfather of Jake, one of the main protagonists in the show. The grandfather tells a story about some WWII allied soldiers who were surrounded by Germans. When the Germans offered to let the allies surrender, the allies respond with the message, “Nuts!” Flash forward to the heroes of Jericho surrounded by enemies. The leader of the enemies offers to let the people of Jericho surrender. Of course, the hero Jake responds by saying, “Nuts!”

Is it any surprise that fans protesting the cancellation of the show sent 20 tons of nuts to the network?

A lot of movies and TV shows seem to play this musical chairs role reversal game, by either putting another character in the exact same situation, giving them the same lines, or both. It’s a neat trick when cleverly done.

Have you ever used it?

It’s not about how the words look on paper. It’s about how they sound out loud. More so for a screenplay, but even for a novel. A lot of people mouth words as they read, or they hear them in their head as they track the lines across the page. Something that doesn’t work when you say it becomes instantly obvious.

An example peeve of mine is two characters who already know each other well addressing each other by first name with everything they say. “Hey Jack, hand me that screwdriver.” And then, “Thanks Jack.” or “Jack, later do you want to grab a beer?” Think about it. Do you use a friend’s name a lot when you’re around them? That’s the kind of thing that probably seems correct on paper but sounds wrong when you say it out loud.

The only downside to saying dialogue out loud as you type it is that you may want to refrain from writing in coffee shops. The staff and other customers might think you’re crazy. :)

I don’t have to worry about mumbling in front of my wife. She already knows I’m crazy.

It all goes back to Differentiate Or Die for me. Not just from a marketing standpoint, but a creative one as well. You do well to establish your creative properties not by figuring out how similar they should be to others in the same genre, but by figuring out how yours is going to be different.

For example, unlike a lot of disaster and apocalypse movies, I feel some of the strongest themes of post-apocalyptic works are shared with westerns. The rugged individualism expressed within the anarchy of the wild west and the concept of taming new frontiers is something that post-apoc can do very well. The question is, do the most popular examples of post-apoc represent those themes? The Road Warrior does. I Am Legend (the movie) — aside from scavenging and fighting for survival, doesn’t explore those themes so much, though it does spend a considerable amount of time exploring the concept of loneliness. And loneliness could be one thematic facet of individualism.

But if you were writing a post-apoc story, instead of copying what you enjoyed about I Am Legend you might also say, “They explored individualism from the standpoint of loneliness, and I don’t want to do that so I’m going to take a different approach.”

The same kind of thinking can also be applied to some of the more abstract mechanics of fiction. As of this writing, my two favorite TV shows are probably The Shield and Dexter. Although I thoroughly enjoy the themes explored within those two shows, where I get the most creative inspiration from them is not from theme but in the craft of their writing.

The writing of The Shield, no matter how over the top or absurd the situation in any given episode, it’s written as if even the craziest setup or plot twist is completely believable. It sells me on the reality of that storyverse. How do they do that?

One way is that every character hides their true motivations in some fashion, and puts on a false front for others. What each character tells others and leads others to believe is often not the real agenda. And every character on the show has these “cloudy” objectives. As the conflicts build and collide, you can never truly be sure about what happens next, and often the misdirections aid in the suspension of disbelief.

I wouldn’t want to write a police procedural or detective show because I think the genre is pretty well tread and dare I say even boring, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn something from the writing found in The Shield, and if anything the mechanics of the writing are the best place to glean insight.

Likewise with Dexter often some the best twists and character revelations are compelling because of the writers’ ability to misdirect the viewer. Just as Dexter puts on a false front for the people in his life, the other characters in the show also have a secret inner world that is hidden from not only the other characters, but also the viewer. The viewer usually only gets small glimpses of this inner reality, whereas they are exposed to quite a bit of it with the main character.

Everyone has secrets, revelations, painful truths, and an inner world of their mind — what they are thinking, how, and why. Getting the inner scoop or having it withheld from you is one the more compelling master strokes of a good writer.

But to learn from it and use it in the best way possible, you shouldn’t only ask yourself “How can I borrow that?” You should also ask yourself, “What would I do differently?”

There is a lot of mileage to be gained from differential storytelling.

Can’t get enough. I figured out why it’s so addictive. I’m almost to the end of season 2 and they haven’t tread the same ground yet. I asked myself, “How did they do that?”

It didn’t take me long.

Dexter’s relationship with every other character on the show changes not just with each season, but often from episode to episode. Nothing stays the same. Whether it’s his girlfriend Rita, or the other crazy women in his life. The people he works with, his colleagues, and even those out to get him. Each episode brings a new dynamic. A shift in the conflicts & alliances.

If I could discern any one principle the writers follow in the show, it’s that change is inevitable — nothing stays the same.

I don’t know about you, but I’m taking notes.