James Alan Gardner's Blog, page 6

Things You Might Not Realize About Rabbits

I asked my rabbit what I should write about. He suggested rabbits. So here are some things you might not realize.

Rabbits can’t breathe through their mouths; they can only breathe through their noses. If a rabbit gets stuffed up, it’s very very serious.
Rabbits can’t vomit either. Digestive blockages are bad.
Despite what you’ve read in Watership Down, rabbits are social but they aren’t very hierarchical. They enjoy hanging out with each other (and with humans if they’ve decided you’re cool), but they don’t defer to each other much. In particular, if a rabbit gets a good treat, it will grab the treat and run away to eat in private. Sharing is for suckers.
Rabbits are coprophagous. In other words, they eat some of their droppings. Why? Because their principal food is grass, and grass just isn’t very nutritious. Big animals that eat grass (e.g. cows) have extra long digestive tracts and sometimes multiple stomachs to derive as much nutrition as possible from each mouthful. Rabbits have long digestive tracts relative to their size, but that’s still not very long. By the time a mouthful of grass gets all the way through, it still has a fair bit of nutrition left. So rabbits just put it through again. In practice, this means they actually have two types of droppings: soft (which have only gone through once) and hard (which have gone through twice). They re-eat the soft ones.
Rabbits don’t really have eyelids. They can squeeze their eyes mostly shut by scrunching the muscles above and below the eye, but they can’t close their eyes completely. This is why (ugh) they’re used for testing cosmetics—they can’t shut stuff out of their eyes.
You probably know this one, but rabbits aren’t rodents. They’re lagomorphs. The major difference is in their teeth: rodents have only two incisors (one on each side), while lagomorphs have four (a pair on each side).

For other interesting rabbit facts, check out the web site of The House Rabbit Society, an organization of people who like having rabbits around the house.

Stabilization

Yesterday, I wrote about Destabilization: you can say that a story begins when one or more characters have their lives destabilized, and that the story ends when their lives are stable again. To add to this, let me talk about the forms that the final stability may take.

One possible type of stability is going back to the status quo that existed at the beginning of the story. You often see this in books for kids: all problems have been solved, all monsters are defeated, and everything is back to “normal”. This is fine for children—many kids haven’t learned to cope with change. Furthermore, it means the same story can be read multiple times, and a series of books can be read in any order.

But it doesn’t work well for adults. Adults know that things never stay the same, and they like to see people dealing with change. So even if a threat is defeated (or a puzzle is solved, or the protagonist manages to get home after a difficult journey), adults want to see characters develop. The experience should leave the characters stronger, or wiser, or more wary, or something. Otherwise, the whole experience meant nothing. (That’s perilously close to “It was all a dream”. Haha, everything was pointless!)

The newly established stability doesn’t have to be “nice”. If a character gives up hope, that’s still a form of stability. It may not be an enjoyable result, but it is an ending and may be suitable for some stories.

(You can get away with “downer” endings in short stories more than in novels. Consider horror stories, for example; plenty of them end with the protagonist dying in some gruesome way. However, ending a novel with everything awful may be too grim to satisfy readers who’ve spent hours of their lives on the book.)

Stability doesn’t mean that every loose end has been tied up. Stories that are part of a series almost always have loose ends; a dangling thread in Book 1 may start the plot in Book 2. But even stories that will never have a sequel may have loose ends. If so, I think it’s useful to acknowledge the loose ends in some way. Otherwise, readers may just think that the writer fumbled the ball. By acknowledging I mean something like, “George never did find out where the dagger came from,” or something like that. (Preferably something more elegantly phrased, but still.)

One way or another, a story begins when the first domino falls. At the end, readers should feel that there are no dominoes left, even if the dust hasn’t completely settled. If dominoes are still in motion, the story just isn’t over yet.

[Photo of dominoes by Peng [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons]

Destabilization

The latest episode of the Writing Excuses podcast dealt with how to finish a character’s story. During the discussion, they described good plot structure as circling back on itself. I understand what they meant, but I worry about the concept being misinterpreted; beginning writers may think that you have to end up at the same place you started, literally or metaphorically. Sometimes this does happen (as in the classic Hero’s Journey), but plenty of good stories don’t make this kind of circle. So let me put my own spin on the point.

Stories begin with some kind of destabilization. Something pushes or tempts one or more characters to break their routine. For example:

The characters leave home, temporarily or permanently
A new person enters the characters’ lives (often summarized as “A Stranger Comes to Town”)
The characters encounter a puzzle and decide to solve it (this is the plot of most mystery stories)
An event occurs which makes it difficult or impossible to continue with the status quo
Some incident, large or small, induces the characters to make changes in their lives

Now it’s possible for things to occur without destabilizing the characters’ lives. Lots of people go on trips without being changed, and a typical police detective solves plenty of “mysteries” without being strongly affected by them. A situation only becomes “story-worthy” when characters truly are destabilized.

(And let me say as an aside, new writers are sometimes reluctant to destabilize characters. Few of us like being destabilized ourselves, and if you identify with your characters, you may be inclined to keep your characters cool and unaffected by whatever happens. This is a mistake—characters should never skate through plot situations. Even James Bond has to sweat.)

So if a story starts with destabilization, how does it end? When the characters’ lives are more or less stable again. You don’t have to resolve everything—life is seldom so neat. And “stable” doesn’t have to mean “happy”; characters may end up dead or in terrible circumstances. (See, for example, the ending of Hamlet.) But an ending will feel like an ending if there’s nothing that’s going to propel much further change in the situation.

In other words, you can look at story structure as starting with a state of stability, then getting destabilized, and eventually returning to stability again. The final state may or may not be similar to the initial one; it could be wildly different. But if the final state feels stable, the audience will understand and accept that the story is over.

[Photo of Leaning Tower of Pisa by Saffron Blaze [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, from Wikimedia Commons]

What I’m Reading: December 7, 2018

I always have a number of books on the go for one reason or another. Why not share?

Fiction: At the moment, I’m reading superhero comic books (gee, I wonder why?) and I’m mostly making use of my Marvel Unlimited account. (It’s a bargain, providing access to almost all of Marvel’s backlist for only $69 (U.S.) a year!) Right now I’m working through November 2014, so that means the “Axis” and “Spider-Verse” events (among others).

Other comic series I follow devotedly: The Wicked + The Divine by Kieron Gillen, The Wild Storm by Warren Ellis, and Giant Days by John Allison.

Bathroom reading: Beyond Weird by Philip Ball, a book on quantum theory whose aim is to get past the “Wow, isn’t this weird!” stage and to work on demystification…to the extent that quantum theory can be demystified.

Kitchen reading: I always have a book in my kitchen for when I take a snack break during writing, or when I’m waiting for water to boil, or for all those other times when I’m in the kitchen with a few minutes to fill. At the moment, I’m reading Plant Biology by Alison M. Smith et al, because I don’t know nearly enough about botany. (Everybody should ask themselves what they don’t know enough about and then start correcting that omission.)

My Latest Impulse Acquisition

As shown above, I just got a deck of cards based on the images from Dragon Age: Inquisition. Pretty!

Cheap Explosions! And Editing!

Woohoo! The Kindle version of All Those Explosions Were Someone Else’s Fault is on sale today at Amazon.

Update: It’s also on sale at Kobo. (Oops, sorry for missing that.)

And while I’m here, let me put in a plug for my editing services. If you’re a writer, new or established, I’d be happy to work with you to improve your latest manuscript. I can give you my overall thoughts on character, plot, structure, etc., or detailed notes on your complete novel. Give me a shout at j.a.gardner@outlook.com for more information.

Financial Advice for Writers

Few writers make a lot of money. Many writers make a little money. But however much or little you make (or even if you haven’t made any money at all as yet), let me offer some advice.

TALK TO AN ACCOUNTANT!

and

WHATEVER THE ACCOUNTANT TELLS YOU TO DO, DO IT.

Seriously, accountants serve two extremely useful functions:

They can save you money.
They keep you out of trouble with the tax collectors.

For example, a good accountant will tell you what expenses you can and can’t deduct from any income you receive. Deducting valid expenses is good: you pay less tax on whatever is left over. Deducting non-valid expenses is bad: if the tax agency finds out, you could be in serious trouble. (See All Capone.)

Now it’s true that consulting an accountant may cost money. If you have no income from writing, maybe it’s too early for you to go to that expense. But it’s never too soon to start keeping track of your finances. Here’s what I’d recommend for anyone who hopes to make money from writing some day:

Starting right now, keep every scrap of paperwork that might possibly be relevant to your writing.
In particular, keep receipts for expenses. You don’t have to get fancy; I used to just have a plastic freezer bag labelled with the year, and I put every receipt inside. Also keep any paperwork from household expenses—eventually you’ll want to claim the expenses in connection with having a home office, so now is the time to get into the habit of keeping relevant records. If receipts are purely digital (e.g. charges emailed to you), consider printing them out so that you have a hardcopy record.

Keep a spreadsheet (e.g. in Microsoft Excel or Google Sheets) recording income and expenses.
When recording an expense, separate the cost of the item from any sales tax paid on top, and record both. Try to be consistent in the terms you use. For example, don’t use “Printer paper” for one purchase and “Paper for the printer” for another. You want to be able to sort your data so that lines for similar expenses are all collected together. By the way, you should also use a spreadsheet to record mileage and/or other car expenses related to your writing.

The point here is to develop good habits of record keeping sooner rather than later. The more you record, the more information you have. You can see how much you’re spending on your writing, and that knowledge may be useful.

BUT…eventually, talk to an accountant. They’ll tell you if your jurisdiction requires that you keep records in a particular format. They’ll tell you which of the expenses you’ve recorded are actually deductible. They’ll tell you how long you need to keep receipts. And much else beside.

So tl;dr: start keeping receipts and records now. It’s good practice. Consult an accountant as soon as you can justify the expense, and definitely as soon as you make any income.

(By the way, I have a friend who’s an accountant and she says she doesn’t charge for initial consultations. She’d rather help potential clients keep proper records right from the start than to go through the hassle of trying to clean things up later on. You may or may not find someone who’ll talk to you for free, but I suspect a lot of accountants won’t charge very much for an initial get-together. For them, it’s a good investment of their time to avoid headaches later on…and accountants love good investments.)

Sharing: November 23, 2018

More things I like:

Used first-year university textbooks
I live within fifteen minutes of two universities: the University of Waterloo and Wilfrid Laurier University. Both have stores where you can buy used textbooks for under $10 each. The books that go for such low prices aren’t the latest editions—they may be around five years old. But even in 2018, the introductory principles of various disciplines don’t change much in five years. If you buy a slightly old textbook, you still have an amazing resource as a starting place for learning a subject.

So I’ve bought first-year textbooks in dozens of fields, from anatomy and economics to Italian and microbiology. Wikipedia is certainly great for quick-and-dirty fact finding, especially when I already know the basics of a subject…but when I want to learn something from scratch or in depth, I love textbooks. They’re designed to teach topics in some rational order, where one thing builds on another. So I strongly recommend that everyone should make a trip to the nearest university campus and see what gems you can get for a surprisingly low price.

By the way, let me add one way that I use such books: I keep one in my kitchen. Whenever I’m taking a break from writing and go for a snack, I can read a few paragraphs while I’m munching. Also, when I’m cooking and waiting for water to boil or something like that, I can also read a bit. I like having something to read that I can pick up and put down without too much angst.

 

The Comics trilogy by Scott McCloud
I’ve long been aware of Understanding Comics, Scott McCloud’s 1993 book on how comic books work. (The book also covers comic strips, manga, graphic novels, etc.) If you haven’t read it, rush out to your library and grab a copy now.

I was also aware of the follow-up, Reinventing Comics, published in 2000. It was McCloud’s attempt to nudge the creators of comics to aim higher and be more ambitious.

But I only recently discovered that he’d written a third book in 2006: Making Comics. I have no idea how I missed it…but I’m reading it now, and it’s full of great insights on how to create comic books that work. Highly recommended.

Sharing: November 18, 2018

More things I like:

Book-: The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp
Tharp is a long-time dancer and choreographer, and this is her book about the creative process. As the title suggests, she recommends developing the habit of being creative, and she offers numerous ways to improve your creative process. I first read this book many years ago; now, as I’m rereading it, my creative juices have started bubbling fiercely.
Newsletter: Orbital Operations by Warren Ellis
I think of Warren Ellis as a comic book writer, but he also writes novels, screenplays, and a heck of a good weekly newsletter. Every posting talks about books that I’ve never heard of but immediately want to read. His Morning, Computer blog is also well worth following.
App: Freedom
Freedom is an internet blocker, available for most operating systems. I use it on both my iPad and my Windows desktop. Freedom helps you avoid indulging your vices; I have it set up to prevent me from reading Twitter when I’m supposed to be writing, and from playing solitaire anytime after 10:30 at night. In other words, Freedom has willpower when I don’t. It lets me work and sleep when I want to, despite the addictive nature of the web.

Excelsior!

In response to the recent death of Stan Lee, I’d like to say some things about Stan, and superhero comic books in general.

I’m old enough to have started reading comic books pre-Marvel: back when Batman was lighthearted (but not as silly as the 1960s TV show), and when Lois Lane was Superman’s girlfriend even though I can’t remember a single romantic moment between them. (Occasional issues had them getting married, but it always turned out to be fake or imaginary. Back then, they never kissed or even went out on dates. Later, their relationship became much richer; these days, I like it a lot. But when I first started reading comics, Lois only existed to get Superman in trouble.)

Then Stan Lee started Marvel, and the industry changed. He injected two priceless innovations into superhero comics: soap opera, and the soapbox.

By modern standards, Stan moved comic book characterization from zero-dimensional to one-dimensional. There was nothing subtle about Ben Grimm agonizing over his hideousness or Peter Parker smacked down by yet another horrible piece of bad luck. Most villains were complete numskulls; so were most police, army officers, politicians, and religious leaders.

But still, Stan Lee’s characters were more complex than elsewhere in the industry. We’d never seen anything like them. Not in comic books.

Characters actually had emotions and relationships. Sometimes, they got mad; sometimes, they were depressed; sometimes, they fell in love and actually did something about it.

Ben Grimm went over to Alicia Masters’ place on a regular basis—they ate dinner together and talked. Peter Parker went out on honest-to-goodness dates with Gwen Stacey and Mary Jane Watson. Sue Storm got ticked off with Reed Richards because he took her for granted, so she nearly had a fling with Prince Namor. (Maybe eventually, she did have a fling with Namor. I can imagine her looking into the camera and saying, “Whether I did or didn’t, it’s none of your business.”)

The characterization wasn’t subtle, but it was more than punching out bad guys. And it set the stage for decades of further evolution, in which comics did get subtle, at least sometimes.

Stan’s other innovation was the soapbox. Starting early in Marvel’s history, every comic had a page giving news about Marvel, and that page included Stan’s Soapbox: basically a monthly editorial column. Some of those columns are now legendary, denouncing racism and sexism, or urging kids and parents to have conversations about drugs.

Those editorials were far from revolutionary by modern standards—today we realize that racism and sexism are deeply systemic problems, not just overt misbehavior by people who are clearly “bad”—but at the time, Stan was applauded for going out on a limb. And remember, at the time, comics were still regarded as books for children.

But to me, the soapbox page was important for another reason: the page talked about comic book creators. I was old enough to know that superheroes weren’t real, but I hadn’t quite realized that the stories were made up by people. The soapbox page talked about the writers and artists as actual human beings making a living by inventing everything on the page.

Comics didn’t just happen—people made them. Sometimes there’d be photos of Stan, or Jack Kirby, or Steve Ditko, or Marie Severin working away at their desks. People made these books. Stan just sat down and invented new stories about Spider-Man. In fact, he invented the characters themselves (in conjunction with the artists, of course, but that’s a whole other topic).

The point is I realized that making up a stories was a thing you could do. Wow! And for that amazing revelation, let me thank the one and only Stan Lee.

[The image at the top of this post is excelsior.]