Stuart Jaffe's Blog, page 12

The Blue Series — Robert Johnson

For the inaugural post of this series, I could think of no better person to go with than Robert Johnson.  All of country, rock, and pop and every sub-genre and off-shoot, including jazz, would not exist if this man had not come along.  His songs have been covered by everyone.  A few I know of are Eric Clapton, Crosby, Stills, and Nash, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.  There are countless others.

One of the few photos of Johnson known to exist.

Born in 1911 in Mississippi, Johnson took to music early in life, playing the harmonica for many years.  But he didn't become a serious guitarist until around the time he married Virginia Travis in 1929.  Sadly, one year later, she died at age 16 during child birth.  Desperate to avoid the harsh work of a sharecropper, Johnson made a go as a traveling musician.

Here is where the first big myth about Johnson begins.  During these travels, much of his whereabouts is unknown (more is known than thought, but there are still gaps as to where he was during some years).  When he resurfaced, he suddenly could play the guitar at an astonishing level.  If you listen to the 1936-37 recordings, there are plenty of times when he sounds as if he is playing two guitars at once.  It's more than just a bass thump with the thumb, and this type of performance coupled with his haunting voice and lyrics (all popping up seemingly out of a mysterious absence) led to the mythic idea that Johnson went to some magical crossroads and sold his soul to the Devil in order to become a great guitarist.

On August 13, 1938, Johnson played his last gig at Three Forks, a jook joint in the Delta.  And here comes the other big myth/mystery.  He died in 1938, but nobody knows exactly what happened.  Rumors abound including stabbing, poisoning, and of course, that the Devil came to collect his soul.  Poisoning is the most common, practical theory and appears to have some backing to it, but chances are, we will never know.

What's more incredible is how the mythos of Robert Johnson has also penetrated our world.  The 1986 movie Crossroads (starring Ralph Macchio, Joe Seneca, and Jami Gertz) played a bit on the mysteries surrounding Johnson's amazing but limited output.  Short stories and novels have been written using Johnson and his legend as ways to ground other fantasy elements.  Most recently, the television show Supernatural has made the idea of a crossroads deal with the devil a part of their mythos complete with direct nods to Johnson.  And why not?  Robert Johnson's story is straight out of an Urban Fantasy novel.  Most importantly, songs like Crossroad Blues and Come On In My Kitchen hit you right to the bone so quickly, it's no wonder Johnson's influence has reached almost all of American music.

Love for the Apocalypse

Why do we dig the apocalypse?  It's a weird thing about people, but not only do we love to imagine how the world might come to an end, but we love thinking about what life would be like afterward.  The latest apocalypse du jour can be seen on TV in the form of The Walking Dead — a wonderful show of the zombie apocalypse.  Along those same lines is the book World War Z by Max Brooks which reads like a documentary of a global war against the zombie apocalypse.  Of course, last week I wrote about Mad Max, a fantastic piece of Cold War nuclear holocaust.  In books, there are numerous examples like I Am Legend by Richard Matheson which explores the aftermath of the vampire apocalypse.  That makes me think of Bitterwood by James Maxey and the film Planet of the Apes both of which deal with a shift in power — dragons and apes, respectively — that spells the end for mankind.

I actually think that for a lot of people in my generation (Gen X), growing up around the real threat of nuclear war made such fictions more appealing.  After all, we were watching The Day After and Threads — both harrowing examples of what might be in store for us.  And as teens with raging hormones who learned that early warning systems would give us approximately 30 minutes before missiles struck, we played the game of who's bed would you run to in order to lose your virginity before we all died?

I suppose the current threat of ecological apocalypse and viral outbreak drives the desire now.  That makes me wonder if, in some ways, our entire species can be analyzed by the ways we deal with the apocalypse.

The idea of Mad Max now seems spot-on for unintended reasons.  What once had been a tale of post-nuclear survival, now paints a stronger picture of resource depletion.  After all, a main plot point in The Road Warrior is all about who controls what's left of the gasoline in the world.

And what of A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter Miller, Jr — a strong look at religion and the apocalypse?  I haven't read the Left Behind series (and have no intention to do so) but it is also a religious apocalyptic tale albeit from a different angle.

For me, I find apocalyptic tales intriguing mainly because they mix the survival-adventure story with the science fiction/fantasy genres.  Of course, the fact that the man who directed Mad Max, George Miller, is now best known for producing and directing Babe, Happy Feet, and Happy Feet Two may just signal a new apocalypse on the rise.

 

Can I Ever See Mad Max Again?

Those of you who have heard me speak at a convention recently have heard my introduction bit that now includes The Way of the Black Beast.  One quickie way I'll describe the book is that it's Xena meets Mad Max.  That's very true in that it follows a warrior women struggling to survive in a post-apocalyptic world that includes magic.

But it's been a long, long, long time since I've seen any of the Mad Max films all the way through.  Occasionally I'll catch the final chase in The Road Warrior or the bungie-battle in Beyond Thunderdome on television, but it's been awhile since I've consciously sat down to view these films.  And since I invoke the name Mad Max when describing my novel, part of me thinks I should check them out one more time.

The problem is Mel Gibson.

In Hollywood, there are really two types of people who get the leading roles.  Actors and Stars.  Actors are people like Christian Bale, Daniel Day Lewis, Meryl Streep — people who can submerge into their role and, at times, disappear.  You momentarily forget who that person really is and just see the character.  Stars never want to be forgotten.  People like Sean Connery and Anjelina Jolie are meant to be seen on the screen as who they really are.  They never really meld into their roles because that would defeat the whole point of putting them into a movie.

Now, whether you like it or not, Mel Gibson is a star.  And with all the horrible things he has said in the last few years, it's become more and more difficult to not see that ugly side of him regardless of what he is pretending to be on the screen.  He's actions and statements have undercut his ability to continue being a star.

So, I've hesitated to return to Mad Max — a series of films I've loved (even the horrible Beyond Thunderdome) — because I'm afraid the magic of those movies will be lost.  I've never been a big Tom Cruise fan, but I wonder if Risky Business is still a fun, funny film or if it's also been tainted by his public fall.  I'm certainly mature enough to separate these things in my mind, and yet, when the whole point of having a Movie Star in your movie is to shine a light on the public persona they portray themselves to be, I have to form a layer of disbelief on top of the normal audience suspension of disbelief just to enjoy the film.  That seems like a waste of time when there are plenty of movies I've yet to see.

I don't have answer, but until I do, I think I'll leave Mad Max alone.  I don't need to lose that wonderful experience just because its leading man turned out to be a fool.

The Blue Series

One of the things I like to do on this blog is explore the various influences on my writing.  Movies and books are obvious topics, but music is also an influence.  And those of you who have read The Way of the Black Beast know that I'm a fan of the blues.  So, I'll be kicking off another periodic series simply called The Blue Series.

I love the blues.  I got into it when I taught myself the guitar and the more I learned about the instrument, the more I loved the genre.  Not surprising when you consider that understanding blues music is a lot like learning the guitar.  It's very simple to get started, but the deeper you get into it, the more complex it can become (like chess, too, but that's a topic for another post).

At its core, the blues is based around a simple I-IV-V progression.  For those of you who don't know music theory, that basically means there are only three chords in a basic blues song.  There can be more, of course, and on occasion, there are some that have only one or two chords, but that classic 12-bar blues is based on these three.  Very simple.

And yet — think of all the songs that have been written with that simple structure.  Everything from Hoochie Coochie Man to Thrill is Gone to Johnny B Goode to I Drink Alone to Red House to Pride and Joy to you name it.  Almost all of Rock 'n' Roll is based on this structure.  It's amazing.

As a writer, there's a parallel.  We often hear that there are only seven basic plots in all of literature (There are plenty of debates over the exact number, I know, so if you're thinking six or ten or thirty-two, don't sweat it.  Just know that however it's broken up, the idea is that there are a finite number of plots that get used).  Like blues musicians, writers must take the well-trodden paths of these familiar patterns and find new ways to make them resonate with an audience.  Thankfully, new audiences are born every day, so we have that advantage, but ultimately, the problem never goes away.

It's actually one of the reasons I've come to love writing short stories.  Each one is a quick attack at the familiar, taking a critical eye to a small section of a plot and using it to discover some new way of seeing.  Breaking familiar patterns is also a reason I like the indie world.  We get to have readers try out riskier approaches to story and plot and character that major publishers usually shy away from for obvious marketing concerns.

As I'm working on revisions to The Way of the Sword and Gun (Book 2 of the Malja Chronicles), I'm reminded of all this.  See, while I have the patterns established in the first book to work from, there is no law that says I must follow them.  In fact, I think the best sequels are ones that find a way to feel connected to the previous books while finding new territory to explore.  At least, that's what I'm trying to do.  If I succeed, I can do a jig and celebrate.  If I fail, well, then I'll get out my guitar and play some blues.

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Why Magic is Better in Books than on Film

Ah, Magic.  With a capital 'M'.  It is the lifeblood of the fantasy genre, the one true element that differentiates the genre from any other.  If it's got something magical in it — whether spell or beast or book or totem or whatever — then it is fantasy.  Call it what you want — magical realism, urban paranormal, paranormal romance — it's really just another form of fantasy.

In the film industry, until recently (that being the emergence of Peter Jackson), calling your work fantasy (or science fiction, for that matter) was a big no-no.  Actors and directors morphed into verbal Twister champions in order to avoid tagging their multi-million dollar project with the title Fantasy.  Often, they would pull attention to some difference as a matter of focus.  As in: Though our film does have some magic in it, we really focus on the characters and that's what I think our film is about — the journey of the characters. Blah, blah, blah.

Now, there are obvious business reasons for this distinction.  Some writers play the same game to avoid a genre tag (see: Margaret Atwood) because, until recently, fantasy and science fiction didn't sell all that well.  But I'm not bringing all this up to argue business.  I understand the business point.  What I want to draw your B.S. meter's attention on is the argument that somehow by not focusing on the magic that is an obvious quality in the story, the characters will be better, richer, and deeper.  I challenge the entire blogosphere to find me one example of a movie in which the magic is better than in books.  Okay, that's not a fair challenge because you can't win.  Here's why:

Movies are visual.  They tell story primarily through sight.  Sound comes next in line.  After that, they're done.  There is no smell, no taste, no touch in film.  The only way they can show magic is to, well, show it.  They can hint at the internal issues of using magic, but that's really it.  That's why so many movies wheel out the CGI machines and plaster the screen with lots of shiny lights.  So, you forget that it's all just a show.

Books, however, tell story by giving the reader's brain cues with which it can engage all the senses.  That's why in most books, magic is not a big CGI moment of flash and color but often magic is connected to emotion, to personality, to (drum roll please) character.

If people were honest about the art they create (or if they simply understood it), they'd know that to suggest a separation of magic from character as a good thing is utter nonsense.  In any fantasy (and all magic is by definition fantasy), magic and character are tied together.  It's the whole point of magic.  To give a character and an author something unique with which to express ideas, themes, concepts, etc.

For my money, the closest any film as ever gotten to portraying a true sense of magic as it is most often expressed in books is the film Lord of the Rings.  In particular, the scene in which Gandalf and Saruman fight.  The actors thrust their arms at each other, but no CGI blasts of light appear.  Their bodies are flung around, but no lightning bolts, no fancy displays.  The real magic is on the actors' faces as Gandalf is betrayed.  That scene is not about spells or wizards or even Middle Earth.  It's about two characters who once cared for each other and now find themselves on opposite sides of a coming battle.

So, in fantasy, magic and character are integral to each other.  And while I have no objection to eye-candy in films or books, films are limited to that form (and need a talent like Jackson to pull it off well) whereas books have the opportunity to take magic to better, richer, and deeper levels.

Movies We Loved (Just Might Not Admit It): The Dark Crystal

Before I say my little piece on a wonderful movie made of puppets (and I'm not talking about Team America, although that's a great one, too), I just wanted to thank the people at RoundCon for a delightful time.  RoundCon is a small convention in South Carolina, mostly geared toward gaming and anime.  They're trying to grow their literary track, so I was there along with Kalayna Price, Rachel Aaron, John Hartness, Blair Peery, Bobby Nash, and Sam Morton.  We all had a good time.  Ironically, I sold substantially more books to the anime crowd than I did the weekend before at CapClave — a convention for fantasy readers.  Go figure.

Now, on to this week's post:

There's no doubt that one of the great cinematic moments of my youth was going to see The Dark Crystal.  Having gone through my toddler years in the 70s, I was part of the generation that got to experience Sesame Street in its original form.  As I grew older, the unparalleled imagination of Jim Henson brought my eager mind the wonder that was (and still is) The Muppet Show.  And then, Jim did something truly amazing.  He got a bunch of corporate types (he had to go to Britain since American corporate types just didn't "get" the idea) to put up the money for a fantasy adventure done with no stars.  Not even muppet stars.

This movie blew me away.  Humor, adventure, magic, even a little horror — that ugly witch with her detachable eye freaked me out as a kid.  For weeks (okay, I admit it, years) after, I could go up to my friends and say, "MMmmmmmm, gelfling friend" in a sing-song Skeksis voice and we'd all crack up while instantly being transported back to our younger years.  If you have no clue about the above references, then you obviously haven't seen the film yet.  Go rectify that immediately.

As I write all this, I'm remembering just what a triumph this film is.  Yes, it's a bit simplistic and it has plenty of plot holes.  But it's a well-realized world and an amazing visual expression that no amount of CGI could ever duplicate.  Heck, there's more life behind just one of the eyes of the puppets than behind all the eyes of those freak-me-out kids on The Polar Express.  In fact, the movie would probably be far better known if a little flick call E.T. – The Extraterrestrial hadn't been out around the same time.

What's really great about The Dark Crystal is that it is a fantasy film not built on a medieval world, not following the tropes of so many fantasy stories, not really adhering to the basics that we generally think of when we write fantasy stories.  And yet, it isn't edgy or off base or avant garde either.  It's firmly entrenched in the world of fantasy storytelling while making its own rules.  For example, there aren't any human characters in the story.  None.  It's a delicate balance that I certainly try to emulate in my own writing.  Especially The Way of the Black Beast which mixes classic sword & sorcery storytelling with elements such as assassins who play blues guitar.  The Japanese walk this line with incredible grace and daring in anime and manga.  But The Dark Crystal was one of the first times I can recall seeing it in the America of my youth.

When my son was younger, we watched this film.  I'm happy to report, it still holds up.

What I learned at CapClave

I spent last weekend in Gaithersburg, MD for CapClave — a reader's con put on by the Washington Science Fiction Association.  Overall I had a good time meeting a few new people and connecting with the old friends that I usually only get to see at cons.  But in addition to all of the usual, I learned something new about myself — I don't like the down time.

See, when you're a guest panelist at a con, there's two basic modes you're in.  Either you are on a panel (talking, debating, etc) or you aren't (the down time).  In both modes you are "on" (the only time you aren't "on" is when you reach the sanctuary that is your hotel room) and it can get pretty exhausting, but I discovered that I prefer to be on panels.

Now usually, a con will put you on about five panels spread over the weekend.  For whatever reason, I was only given two panels ::sniffs armpits, seems okay::, both on Friday, and a reading on Saturday.  The reading got nixed when Terry Pratchett made a surprise appearance for an hour from noon to 1:00.  My reading was at 12:30.  Unsurprisingly, nobody showed up (including me, though I did peek in just to make sure).  The end result was that I had a lot of down time when I wasn't on a panel.  I went to see a few of my peers on their panels and browsed the dealer room and chatted up a few folks, but it just didn't work for me.  I do fine with it in smaller doses but doing it all day made me feel a bit like a used car salesman.  If I have to do one or the other all day, I'd rather get exhausted on panels.

I now know that I make far better connections and have a lot more fun when I'm on a panel.  I get to meet new authors and debate the topic with them — in fact, several of my closest writer friends came out of being on panels together.  I get to meet new readers, too — they come to see Author A but they also hear the rest of us, and usually by the end of a weekend, one or two or more have taken an interest in my work.

On top of all that, I think I feel a little Jewish guilt if I'm not on enough panels.  After all, that's why I was invited to the con in the first place.

I'll get to put my new perspective to the test this weekend at RoundCon inSouth Carolina.  This is a media con that's trying to build its literary track.  It's much smaller, just a handful of authors, but it should give me a good balance of panels versus down time to observe how I feel.

How do you all feel at cons?  As fans, do you prefer to meet an author through a panel or schmoozing in the halls?  For those of you who've been panelists, what's your view?

Lines in the Sand

With all the turmoil in today's publishing world, I feel safe in saying that there's only one thing anybody can say with absolute authority — nobody knows what the heck is going to happen.  It's true.  Anybody who tells you otherwise is full of it.  There are just so many variables — almost all of which comprise some human element — that to attempt a serious prognostication is to make gods laugh and mathematicians weep.

Besides, most of these predictions come with an agenda in the wings — good or evil, still an agenda.  That bugs me.  But what gets me most is that all these people drawing lines in the sand are doing just that — drawing lines in SAND.  Sand is impermanent, and so is the publishing situation.

The indie cheerleaders draw their lines saying we don't care about the traditional press anymore.  We're going it alone, and the hell with you.  The indie revolution has arrived and in a few years there won't be traditional publishers anymore.

Sounds great, right?  Who doesn't like a good stand against authority?  Only problem is that line is bunk.  The fact is that while some major publishers probably won't survive the changes that are occurring, the majority will.  They're already in the process of being in the ebook market and though they still have a lot to learn in regards to formatting and pricing (something readers will impact more than indie-publishers), they'll figure it out.

On the other hand, the traditionalists draw their lines all over the place — you have to do it their way or you aren't "legit" is a common one.  Another is that indie work is inferior.  But all the good work coming from indie moviemakers, indie bands, indie painters, indie clothes designers, small business owners, etc, etc, prove how viable they are.  Does indie produce bad work sometimes?  Sure.  I have to sift through a lot of indie music to find the gems I use for The Eclectic Review, but after almost 280 shows, each with 3 songs, I've found over 800 good tunes — actually many more.  Some good tunes I couldn't use because of timing in the song or lyric content.  Point is: there's good indie stuff and there's crap — just like in the traditional press!

Another favorite line is that when the traditional pubs finally get their act together, they'll destroy the indies for good.  Sorry, guys.  That genie's out of the bottle.  That ship has sailed.  When the trad-press finally makes a real effort to push out the indies, they will fail because the new distribution lines being used have proven to be effective.  Why would Amazon close down its indie market when they make a killing off it?  And if through some backroom deal, they agreed to do so, there are too many other outlets opening up — B&N, Smashwords, Apple, Kobo, etc, etc.  Any one of them would be thrilled to take the business Amazon would give up.

Get it?  Indie/Trad press — they are both here to stay, warts and all.  They both have good and bad points to them.  All this bickering is silly and stupid.  Because when it all settles down, writers and readers are the big winners.  They both get more choices, more ways to produce or find quality work.  And even the Traditional publishers win — they get to focus on the biggest, most successful authors.  They can use the indie world as their own minor league, and once they're willing to put up real money, they'll swoop in and take the winners rather than playing Russian Roulette all the time.

So, to my fellow readers, writers, and publishers, I say this: knock it off.  I'm tired of all the stands everyone is trying to take.  This sandbox is big enough for us all, and all those lines are just going to disappear anyway.

Women Kickin Butt — Sarah Connor

Continuing the Women Kickin Butt series, I thought I'd look at one of the greats — Sarah Connor. There are many reasons she's awesome, but for me, one of the coolest things about watching this character from The Terminator through T2 (we won't talk about the other film incarnations. I like to pretend they didn't happen) is to watch the growth of Sarah. Remember The Terminator? Take a look at her in the first act of that film — a low-paid, ill-treated waitress, 80′s big hair, soft skinned, almost cutsy, screaming her way through the insanity that happens to her. Now, take a look at her in T2 – tough, rock-hard muscles, calm and cool, in control, one kickin-butt woman who's ready to take down names. And don't you dare mess with her kid.

This growth of character is not something we always get to see with heroines — especially lately. Xena, Buffy, Ripley are all fully-formed butt-kickers, or at least close to it, when we first meet them (don't worry, I'll be profiling all of them in this series down the road). Heck, even in my own book, The Way of the Black Beast, Malja is already a gifted warrior. We might get to learn about their early days at some point, but their growth is found in other ways — through relationships, through trusting friends, through survival, etc. In fact, when Sarah Connor moved to television, her character had to find growth through these other ways, too.

Watching Sarah Connor on film go from a typical, American 80′s girl into a killing machine that almost forgets she's human is not only a triumph of excellent writing and film work, but an impressive acting display by Linda Hamilton. In fact, what makes her character even more intriguing is that while The Terminator follows her change from girly-girl to defender of the earth, T2 watches her nearly become like her enemy and she must learn how to be human again.

I think that aspect of her is one reason heroines often are more interesting than heroes. A lot of heroes, especially in fantasy and science fiction, are almost one dimensional. They are the Heroes! But we tend to write our heroines with a little more humanity and that gives them more power in the end. Obviously, this is sweeping generalization, but I know we could list quite a few one-dimensional heroes. I wonder how many, if any, one-dimensional heroines we could name. Maybe Red Sonja?