I had the honor and pleasure last night of being one of eight presenters at Pecha Kucha night hosted by the Opalka Gallery at Sage College.
Pecha Kucha is a unique and fascinating presentation format. Every presenter works within the same structure. You get 20 slides, each slide stays on screen for 20 seconds and then automatically advances to the next. You get exactly 6:40 to present (20 slides x 20 sec/per = 400 seconds = 6 minutes 40 seconds).
This creative outlet got its start in Tokyo by two renowned architects. Legend has it that architects are long-winded and never tire of showing slides of their work. Pecha Kucha held them in check. It’s also used for succinct business presentations.
I joined presenters who spoke about mental health, cover songs, activism, art, and other topics. I was last in the lineup, a position of honor I was told, but waiting for my turn wasn’t easy. This was my third time presenting at Pecha Kucha. My previous topics were “The Structure of Story” and “Food Truck,” the latter being a short story I repurposed into a visual Pecha Kucha presentation.
Last night’s topic was “Love Triangle,” which I wrote a blog post on not too long ago as a warm up. I always try to engage and entertain the audience, and from the reaction I’ve gotten, I’ve been able to do that. I blend informational content, personal spin, promotion of my own work, humor, and stuff I just make up (I am a fiction writer) all to fit in a 6:40 presentation. The time goes fast, but it takes extensive preparation to get the timing right and not screw up.
Below are my slides and script. I didn’t have the script with me during the presentation, but had written it to help while I was rehearsing. If you’re interested in my previous Pecha Kucha presentations, click here.
Opalka Gallery does a great job hosting Pecha Kucha night, offering beer and snacks and always drawing a packed house. If Pecha Kucha ever comes to a venue near you, I recommend checking it out, or if you’re bold, signing up to present.
Love Triangle
Mr. Triangle himself, Pythagoras, loved love triangles. Maybe you do too. Or maybe you’ve been involved in one. Love triangles appear everywhere in literature, film, and song. Some say they’re an overused storytelling trope, but the best love triangle stories shine; they captivate us. Let’s look at a few.
An early example in Greek mythology is the story of Helen of Troy. She’s married to the Spartan, Menelaus, but is abducted by Paris, which leads to Menelaus gathering up an army and heading to Troy. Helen apparently was worth fighting for, so beautiful her face was said to launch a thousand ships.
In Leo Tolstoy’s nineteenth century novel, Anna Karenina, Anna is trapped in a loveless marriage with Karenin, and falls passionately in love with the charismatic Count Vronsky. It’s a somewhat successful work of art. There have been 17 film adaptations; 6 television adaptations; 6 operas; 4 theater productions; 4 ballets; plus an upcoming Netflix series set in the 21st century.
In The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, the love triangle involves Jay Gatsby, and Daisy and Tom Buchanan. You’ve probably read it. Gatsby, a wealthy and mysterious man, is deeply in love with Daisy, who is married to the arrogant Tom. The Great Gatsby often appears on lists of the best novels of all time.
Casablanca portrays one of the most iconic love triangles in film history. During World War II, the exiled nightclub owner, Rick, and the fugitive resistance leader, Victor, are both in love with Ilsa Lund. Rick must choose between his love for Ilsa and his moral duty to help Victor escape from the Nazis.
In the young adult series, Twilight, by Stephanie Myer, Bella has to choose between the vampire and the werewolf. This love triangle sparked a cultural phenomenon: are you on Team Edward or Team Jacob? More recently, the movie Challengers features two male tennis players vying for the attention of the same woman.
These examples all have something in common: standard heteronormative fare: two men in conflict over one woman—will they fight? Or one woman torn between two men. Who will she pick as the winner? But love triangles can take other forms, and should more often—across any gender roles and generations.
James Baldwin’s 1956 novel Giovanni’s Room tells the story of David, an American man struggling between his relationship with his fiancée and his love for Giovanni, an Italian bartender. Giovanni’s Room is held up today as a foundational novel in queer literature.
The Graduate is one of my favorite movies. Anne Bancroft and Dustin Hoffman. College grad Benjamin finds himself in a sticky situation when he begins an affair with Mrs. Robinson, the much older wife of his father’s business partner, but then Benjamin falls for Mrs. Robinson’s daughter, Elaine.
Love triangles appear everywhere in the storytelling arts. I haven’t even mentioned songs. And yet, as a writer, I never paid close attention to its status in storytelling, until I recently experienced an uneasy epiphany: all of my books include a love triangle of sorts. I didn’t set out to write that way, but apparently I’ve been writing that way all along.
In my first novel, Stash, Gwen is married to Brian, but Gwen’s old boyfriend, Jude, comes into the picture when she reaches out to him for a favor. There’s no heated affair, and their interactions are not the foundation of the plot, but that thread of triangular tension is stitched into the story from beginning to end.
In Clean Break, the love triangle is more front and center—and yet not once while writing the book did the term love triangle enter my mind. Bystander Jake breaks up a struggle between Celeste and her estranged husband, Adam. Jake eventually gets involved with Celeste and must confront Adam.
Even in my dystopian novel, The Culling, there’s a love triangle of sorts. Ven works for an authoritarian government as a mercenary hunter of fugitives, until he must choose between ensuring safe passage for his brother and himself to a life of freedom and his desire to save Maren, the woman he is assigned to capture but has fallen for.
Continuing to be oblivious of my own storytelling pattern, I write In Flight: Robert survives a plane crash but suffers a severe dissociative fugue and disappears for several days with fellow plane passenger, Nadine. Robert’s wife, Sasha, doesn’t know how to handle the betrayal. Yeah, Robert had this affair, but he was mentally incapacitated and unaware of his actions.
And then this year’s publication, The Suitor. Not exactly a love triangle, but a triangle driven by love. Art is determined to protect his daughter, Anna, from her new love interest, Kyle, who Art believes presents a danger to his daughter. Both Art and Kyle love Anna—in very different ways—and are in conflict over the same woman.
I had to think on this and ask myself why I’m so captivated by this triangular conflict—and why hadn’t I noticed it sooner? Could I, apparently so lacking in self-awareness, look deep within for the answers? Yes, I could. And I discovered my own history of love triangles, beginning with the original one.
I had my fifteen minutes of fame when I was born because I was my parents’ second Christmas baby in three years. The newspaper covered the story. But notice my father in the photograph. You might say he’s looking upon me with suspicion. Did he sense a formidable competitor for my mother’s attention? And did I, in turn, recognize a nemesis staring down at me?
In high school, as a newly licensed driver and rocking my center part, I coveted a classmate’s girlfriend and tried to win her away from him. I failed, but I must have taken mental notes for the next time. A friend and I once wooed the same woman, secretly, without acknowledging this to each other. This time I prevailed, but it was a messy, shameful kind of business.
In college, I helped throw a surprise party for my housemate. He walks in with his girlfriend, who I’d never met. Years later, I marry her. Sure, they’d broken up a long time before and I hadn’t seen her in ages, but when I ran into Harriet again, everything came together for us. And Fred is still a close friend. So this love triangle has a happy ending.
Picasso’s 1935 painting The Muse. Who inspires our creative natures? What is the source of our vision? They say a writer writes what they know. I guess I did some of that. They also say a writer keeps writing the same book under different titles until they get it exactly right. It’s exhausting.
