D.T. Neal's Blog, page 19
May 30, 2023
Writing on the Brain
It might amuse me to have a neurologist study my brain (ideally while I'm alive), just because I write faster than I read.
That is, my fingers fly when I'm writing prose -- you'd be amazed how quickly I write, how quickly words come to me when crafting a scene.
Conversely, when I simply read, I'm notoriously slow in my reading. I don't know what that means, except I guess the neurons for generating text aren't necessarily the same as the ones for comprehending it, perhaps?
The thing is, I'm not willfully writing gobble-de-gook when I write; I'm aware of what I'm writing, where I intend for the text to go. Whereas when I read, I read more slowly.
Just a strange thing. I'm left-handed, too, and I think the way I process language is flipped, too, relative to left-brained folk. I've had some times in the past when a kind of aphasia might strike (it's been a long time since that's happened), but for example I pointed to a comb once (this was long ago) and said "could you hand me that...spiky hair stick?"
Now, when you break that down, what that looks like to me is my right-brain dominant mind is breaking "comb" down into visualized parts -- "spiky hair stick" -- because in that moment, "comb" eluded me, and my brain cobbled together the other words to create a meaningful gestalt.
Another one I remember is calling a television remote a "button box" -- similar situation -- you could certainly look at a TV remote as a button box.
Now, since I write way more fiction these days than I ever did when I was younger (although both of those examples were from me in my 20s), I find I have fewer moments when I might be fumbling for a word.
It's like I've trained my brain to process language more efficiently -- which, again, brings me back to the curiosity of simply reading is a slower process for me than writing.
Like I said, would be interesting for a neurologist to account for it.
That is, my fingers fly when I'm writing prose -- you'd be amazed how quickly I write, how quickly words come to me when crafting a scene.
Conversely, when I simply read, I'm notoriously slow in my reading. I don't know what that means, except I guess the neurons for generating text aren't necessarily the same as the ones for comprehending it, perhaps?
The thing is, I'm not willfully writing gobble-de-gook when I write; I'm aware of what I'm writing, where I intend for the text to go. Whereas when I read, I read more slowly.
Just a strange thing. I'm left-handed, too, and I think the way I process language is flipped, too, relative to left-brained folk. I've had some times in the past when a kind of aphasia might strike (it's been a long time since that's happened), but for example I pointed to a comb once (this was long ago) and said "could you hand me that...spiky hair stick?"
Now, when you break that down, what that looks like to me is my right-brain dominant mind is breaking "comb" down into visualized parts -- "spiky hair stick" -- because in that moment, "comb" eluded me, and my brain cobbled together the other words to create a meaningful gestalt.
Another one I remember is calling a television remote a "button box" -- similar situation -- you could certainly look at a TV remote as a button box.
Now, since I write way more fiction these days than I ever did when I was younger (although both of those examples were from me in my 20s), I find I have fewer moments when I might be fumbling for a word.
It's like I've trained my brain to process language more efficiently -- which, again, brings me back to the curiosity of simply reading is a slower process for me than writing.
Like I said, would be interesting for a neurologist to account for it.
May 28, 2023
Comfort Movies
I amuse myself with some of my "comfort movies" -- movies I've watched (and rewatched) plenty of times of the years, and can always consistently watch them again and enjoy them just as much (or more) as the first time I saw them.
Maybe there's insight into who I am in these selections, so there's that. Here are some of them:
TINKER, TAILOR, SOLDIER, SPY (2011)
MASTER & COMMANDER: THE FAR SIDE OF THE WORLD (2003)
THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS (2001)
RAVENOUS (1999)
THE THIN RED LINE (1998)
FRIGHT NIGHT (1985)
CONAN THE BARBARIAN (1982)
APOCALYPSE NOW (1979)*
THE GOOD, THE BAD & THE UGLY (1966)
This is not an exhaustive list. There are plenty more, but these are some off the top of my head.
It amuses me, because these aren't necessarily comforting movies, but I find comfort in them just the same.
*Also, REDUX (2001), which I also greatly enjoy.
Maybe there's insight into who I am in these selections, so there's that. Here are some of them:
TINKER, TAILOR, SOLDIER, SPY (2011)
MASTER & COMMANDER: THE FAR SIDE OF THE WORLD (2003)
THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS (2001)
RAVENOUS (1999)
THE THIN RED LINE (1998)
FRIGHT NIGHT (1985)
CONAN THE BARBARIAN (1982)
APOCALYPSE NOW (1979)*
THE GOOD, THE BAD & THE UGLY (1966)
This is not an exhaustive list. There are plenty more, but these are some off the top of my head.
It amuses me, because these aren't necessarily comforting movies, but I find comfort in them just the same.
*Also, REDUX (2001), which I also greatly enjoy.
May 22, 2023
Psycho Americans
I've always found it interesting that two women were behind the cinematic AMERICAN PSYCHO (2000), won't belabor that here. Here's a good write-up if you want to explore it on your own.
What I've always been struck by in the movie is how feminine Bateman and his peers are. While "toxic masculinity" frames up that narrative, in the one-upsmanship between Bateman and his bros is apparent, they all strike me as rather effeminate presentations of manhood.
These aren't dudes we're talking about. Especially Bateman. Rather, he talks about his body washes and his face peels, his gym routines, whines about business card envy, and so on. And he rhapsodizes about Huey Lewis & the News, for fuck's sake.
He's a well-oiled metrosexual creampuff, not any sort of man beyond having a cock and an unwarranted sense of his own importance, which I suppose one could say is the distilled essence of masculinity from a jaundiced perspective.
And I think one could reassess AMERICAN PSYCHO as an indictment not of men per se, but these androgynous metrosexual mandroids who aren't actually fully actualized men. Or what a segment of American society had done to masculinity. They're far more steers than bulls -- more to the point, it's because they were screen-written that way.
That is, they are conceptions of masculinity through the eyes of women, and are reflective of that...wait for it...bias. Yes, Brett Easton Ellis (a man) wrote the book, but Mary Harron and Guinevere Turner turned it into their screenplay, and Harron directed it, and their implicit bias regarding men infuses AMERICAN PSYCHO like a lavender-scented aerosolized bodywash.
As a man, I look at Bateman's character and laugh -- he's a stereotypically girlie man. It's impossible for me to rewatch that movie and not see it (aspects of the movie are difficult to watch, let alone rewatch).
It's a feminist lampooning of men, but from my masculine POV, the girlie men of the movie are just that -- laughably feminine in portrayal.
Bateman's not a real man -- willfully using that phrasing, here. There's nothing remotely rugged or stoic about Bateman (also defining features of actual manhood); rather, he's sculpted and coiffed, impeccably attired, snooty, effete, catty, endlessly comparing himself to his peers and rivals. Bateman's the worst caricature of womanhood while wearing a mansuit, obsessed with appearances and social capital.
Not saying there aren't guys like that out there, but it's hardly a generalized or uniform presentation of masculinity -- most guys I've known my whole life (myself included) -- aren't actually like this.
Now, the Bud Light temper tantrums we recently witnessed makes me think those are Bateman-type creampuff guys. From my masculinist perspective, no actual man (aka, no real man) would even drink light beer. And maybe that's what they had their tantrums -- their already fragile masculinity was challenged by transgender.
I object to the term "toxic masculinity" as much as I object to "mansplaining" -- they serve to shut down and/or demonize masculinity. I think "fragile masculinity" is more accurate. It's part of the problem -- men with weak self-conceptions are prone to acting out if/when their weak selves are threatened.
I guess what I'm saying is that well-adjusted men who are confident in themselves as men don't become rapists, mass shooters, serial killers, fascists, etc. Guys who do that are messed-up guys, and I think feminists may lose sight of that -- they see a man doing it, and think any man is potentially a threat. Whereas I'm saying that a certain type of man is a threat, versus all men. A man with a fragile conception of his own masculinity is that threat.
Just like Bateman, who either truly (or in his imagination) carries out a bunch of murders. While men absolutely commit the majority of murders, I don't think anyone would doubt that men who do this aren't particularly healthy specimens of masculinity.
Bateman et al. (speaking of the male characters in the film) are just that -- fragile masculine messes as seen through the eyes and implicit feminist biases of their female creators.
What I've always been struck by in the movie is how feminine Bateman and his peers are. While "toxic masculinity" frames up that narrative, in the one-upsmanship between Bateman and his bros is apparent, they all strike me as rather effeminate presentations of manhood.
These aren't dudes we're talking about. Especially Bateman. Rather, he talks about his body washes and his face peels, his gym routines, whines about business card envy, and so on. And he rhapsodizes about Huey Lewis & the News, for fuck's sake.
He's a well-oiled metrosexual creampuff, not any sort of man beyond having a cock and an unwarranted sense of his own importance, which I suppose one could say is the distilled essence of masculinity from a jaundiced perspective.
And I think one could reassess AMERICAN PSYCHO as an indictment not of men per se, but these androgynous metrosexual mandroids who aren't actually fully actualized men. Or what a segment of American society had done to masculinity. They're far more steers than bulls -- more to the point, it's because they were screen-written that way.
That is, they are conceptions of masculinity through the eyes of women, and are reflective of that...wait for it...bias. Yes, Brett Easton Ellis (a man) wrote the book, but Mary Harron and Guinevere Turner turned it into their screenplay, and Harron directed it, and their implicit bias regarding men infuses AMERICAN PSYCHO like a lavender-scented aerosolized bodywash.
As a man, I look at Bateman's character and laugh -- he's a stereotypically girlie man. It's impossible for me to rewatch that movie and not see it (aspects of the movie are difficult to watch, let alone rewatch).
It's a feminist lampooning of men, but from my masculine POV, the girlie men of the movie are just that -- laughably feminine in portrayal.
Bateman's not a real man -- willfully using that phrasing, here. There's nothing remotely rugged or stoic about Bateman (also defining features of actual manhood); rather, he's sculpted and coiffed, impeccably attired, snooty, effete, catty, endlessly comparing himself to his peers and rivals. Bateman's the worst caricature of womanhood while wearing a mansuit, obsessed with appearances and social capital.
Not saying there aren't guys like that out there, but it's hardly a generalized or uniform presentation of masculinity -- most guys I've known my whole life (myself included) -- aren't actually like this.
Now, the Bud Light temper tantrums we recently witnessed makes me think those are Bateman-type creampuff guys. From my masculinist perspective, no actual man (aka, no real man) would even drink light beer. And maybe that's what they had their tantrums -- their already fragile masculinity was challenged by transgender.
I object to the term "toxic masculinity" as much as I object to "mansplaining" -- they serve to shut down and/or demonize masculinity. I think "fragile masculinity" is more accurate. It's part of the problem -- men with weak self-conceptions are prone to acting out if/when their weak selves are threatened.
I guess what I'm saying is that well-adjusted men who are confident in themselves as men don't become rapists, mass shooters, serial killers, fascists, etc. Guys who do that are messed-up guys, and I think feminists may lose sight of that -- they see a man doing it, and think any man is potentially a threat. Whereas I'm saying that a certain type of man is a threat, versus all men. A man with a fragile conception of his own masculinity is that threat.
Just like Bateman, who either truly (or in his imagination) carries out a bunch of murders. While men absolutely commit the majority of murders, I don't think anyone would doubt that men who do this aren't particularly healthy specimens of masculinity.
Bateman et al. (speaking of the male characters in the film) are just that -- fragile masculine messes as seen through the eyes and implicit feminist biases of their female creators.
Titular Particular
This'll seem paradoxical, but that's what blogs are for, right? In the face of AI impacting (?) writers, and the general malaise of the publishing industry, the plight of books, and (of course) the dismal tide of indie publishing, I think there's an opportunity for writers in this mess.
Namely, if book sales are cratering, and there's too much junk writing out there, the writers who can actually tell good stories (always few and far between) should just throw caution to the wind and be more experimental in their fiction.
I know I'm going to do some of that. As I see it, if some hack and/or word pimp using AI (and/or some AI operating alone) is going to gobble up the writing field, as an artist and creator, I should imply abandon any pretense of commercialism in my work and write some gangbusters stuff that's willfully obtuse (and yet, of course, readable).
There's more than a little WTF in this mindset, frankly. Books are dying as an entertainment medium, so why not fully embrace them as a beautiful thing by doing what makes them beautiful to begin with?
Most people just don't read very much. And trying to court those people is foolish; as a writer, I should simply write what amuses me to write, and jettison any thoughts of salability, since only a fraction of the commercial works ever sell.
That said, I'm as committed as ever to good storytelling -- it matters. But the state of writing these days demands some meaningful action, and that makes sense to me. You'll see that from me in the next few years, the works I produce.
Namely, if book sales are cratering, and there's too much junk writing out there, the writers who can actually tell good stories (always few and far between) should just throw caution to the wind and be more experimental in their fiction.
I know I'm going to do some of that. As I see it, if some hack and/or word pimp using AI (and/or some AI operating alone) is going to gobble up the writing field, as an artist and creator, I should imply abandon any pretense of commercialism in my work and write some gangbusters stuff that's willfully obtuse (and yet, of course, readable).
There's more than a little WTF in this mindset, frankly. Books are dying as an entertainment medium, so why not fully embrace them as a beautiful thing by doing what makes them beautiful to begin with?
Most people just don't read very much. And trying to court those people is foolish; as a writer, I should simply write what amuses me to write, and jettison any thoughts of salability, since only a fraction of the commercial works ever sell.
That said, I'm as committed as ever to good storytelling -- it matters. But the state of writing these days demands some meaningful action, and that makes sense to me. You'll see that from me in the next few years, the works I produce.
May 17, 2023
Hither & Yon
As I'd blogged before that I'm shut of indie horror, there remains some, I don't know, backlog work that I'll be putting out there over the next few years, just so it can "live" and not be forever marooned on my laptop.
I liken it to bands' B-sides -- worthy works that, for whatever reason, didn't get the front-and-center treatment other works got over the years.
So, there will likely be a few more indie horror books coming out from me, but these are careful creations of mine, beneficiaries of my prolific writing habit over the years, and tendency to revise work until the time is right for the release of it.
I have no expectations of those works finding their audience, since I've groused enough that I think the horror that I write is just not what horror audiences look for, but I don't let that stop me from getting it out there.
Anyway, my current focus is in other genres, areas that I hope will be able to deliver audience for me. I'm not particularly hopeful about it, given the generally dismal state of publishing (whether trad, indie, or self-) these days, but I write, therefore I am.
Not to put a tease out there -- I mean, I might obliquely reference a work-in-progress, but I am the last to spill the proverbial beans about a work that's in-progress. Gotta keep the steam in the boiler, versus venting it on social media.
Just know that I'm working on some book projects that I think are fun, worthy, and worthwhile. The publishing landscape continues to roil and fester, but I'll not let that stop me from turning work out.
I've got a lot of ground to cover before I finally surrender to the inevitable. Let's just hope I can find my audience before I'm through.
I liken it to bands' B-sides -- worthy works that, for whatever reason, didn't get the front-and-center treatment other works got over the years.
So, there will likely be a few more indie horror books coming out from me, but these are careful creations of mine, beneficiaries of my prolific writing habit over the years, and tendency to revise work until the time is right for the release of it.
I have no expectations of those works finding their audience, since I've groused enough that I think the horror that I write is just not what horror audiences look for, but I don't let that stop me from getting it out there.
Anyway, my current focus is in other genres, areas that I hope will be able to deliver audience for me. I'm not particularly hopeful about it, given the generally dismal state of publishing (whether trad, indie, or self-) these days, but I write, therefore I am.
Not to put a tease out there -- I mean, I might obliquely reference a work-in-progress, but I am the last to spill the proverbial beans about a work that's in-progress. Gotta keep the steam in the boiler, versus venting it on social media.
Just know that I'm working on some book projects that I think are fun, worthy, and worthwhile. The publishing landscape continues to roil and fester, but I'll not let that stop me from turning work out.
I've got a lot of ground to cover before I finally surrender to the inevitable. Let's just hope I can find my audience before I'm through.
May 16, 2023
More Characterizations
Of my other horror novellas (SUMMERVILLE and THE DAY OF THE NIGHTFISH), there are perhaps curious evolutions of my approach to characters in it.
SUMMERVILLE serves up characters who are willfully slasher-movie type fodder, in that they're a group of goofus characters who have engineered a southern road trip that goes, well, south on them. I enjoyed those characters, but my sympathy was always with Talulah, the hitchhiker who the other characters pick up and then ditch. I just liked her character.
I appreciated this podcast review of the book, where I think one of the reviewers didn't initially like the book, but came around.
In the face of all-conquering nature, yeah, the human characters are diminished, which was the point of the story.
Maybe I was vibing it when I wrote THE DAY OF THE NIGHTFISH, too, in that the protagonist of that one is a nameless dude (he's mockingly nicknamed "Isca" by some fishermen later in the story).
His relative anonymity was deliberate on my part, as I was writing a kind of eco-cosmic horror with that novella, and inherent in that kind of story is a diminishment of the human within it. And you get that in that story (even though "Isca" survives [spoiler, sorry/not-sorry]), in that he's traumatized by what he experienced.
That story was in the running for an Aeon Award (it was shortlisted, but didn't move past that phase), so I made it into a novella.
In the goofy characters of SUMMERVILLE and the bro-bravado protagonist of NIGHTFISH, I think I was playing with an aesthetic for my characters to make a narrative point.
Kind of like the ocean doesn't care who you are as you're floating in it -- you're just a bit of flotsam (or, perhaps worse, jetsam) on a churning sea. It's not a reassuring thought, so maybe that's why people didn't dig those books, although I think they're strong stories.
There are larger-than-life characters, and there are smaller-than-life characters, too (I resist calling them caricatures, although some might be). But some people rise to the occasions they face, and others simply don't -- I think I was exploring that with both of these books, as the characters in those stories get consumed (literally and figuratively) by forces larger than them.
And for me, at least, that's horrifying.
SUMMERVILLE serves up characters who are willfully slasher-movie type fodder, in that they're a group of goofus characters who have engineered a southern road trip that goes, well, south on them. I enjoyed those characters, but my sympathy was always with Talulah, the hitchhiker who the other characters pick up and then ditch. I just liked her character.
I appreciated this podcast review of the book, where I think one of the reviewers didn't initially like the book, but came around.
In the face of all-conquering nature, yeah, the human characters are diminished, which was the point of the story.
Maybe I was vibing it when I wrote THE DAY OF THE NIGHTFISH, too, in that the protagonist of that one is a nameless dude (he's mockingly nicknamed "Isca" by some fishermen later in the story).
His relative anonymity was deliberate on my part, as I was writing a kind of eco-cosmic horror with that novella, and inherent in that kind of story is a diminishment of the human within it. And you get that in that story (even though "Isca" survives [spoiler, sorry/not-sorry]), in that he's traumatized by what he experienced.
That story was in the running for an Aeon Award (it was shortlisted, but didn't move past that phase), so I made it into a novella.
In the goofy characters of SUMMERVILLE and the bro-bravado protagonist of NIGHTFISH, I think I was playing with an aesthetic for my characters to make a narrative point.
Kind of like the ocean doesn't care who you are as you're floating in it -- you're just a bit of flotsam (or, perhaps worse, jetsam) on a churning sea. It's not a reassuring thought, so maybe that's why people didn't dig those books, although I think they're strong stories.
There are larger-than-life characters, and there are smaller-than-life characters, too (I resist calling them caricatures, although some might be). But some people rise to the occasions they face, and others simply don't -- I think I was exploring that with both of these books, as the characters in those stories get consumed (literally and figuratively) by forces larger than them.
And for me, at least, that's horrifying.
May 15, 2023
Characterizations
More character contrasts from my books (as promised/threatened in my earlier post).
Nate Sharp from SUCKAGE, and Max Paulsen from CHOSEN. I like both of these novels, although they were unfortunately largely ignored by readers.
Sometimes I think SUCKAGE suffered because it came out in the wake of the Twilight series making people generally sick of vampires. Even though it's actually a lengthy slam of vampires, where I was trying to convey the monstrosity of them.
Anyway, I'm fond of that book, where I took a vampire minion, Nate Sharp, and showed how sucky (pun intended) it would be if you were enthralled by a vampire. Yeah, I did that way before RENFIELD and WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS.
I'm fond of Nate as a character -- he's a smartass, cynical and wounded, and the story follows his escape from an emotionally abusive relationship (which happened to be with a vampire). It also reads like the evolution of a Slayer -- from minion to slayer, basically.
Not sure why people didn't groove to that book. I think probably because fans of vampire fiction love vampires, and didn't want to see them mocked or revealed to be the monsters that they would be. Not sure, but I thought Nate was a good character.
Max Paulsen from CHOSEN was a lot sharper (heh, I guess pun intended again) than Nate. And, in many ways, more edgy and heroic. He's a fairly paranoid photographer who's bearing witness to the takeover of the Pennsylvania town of Ludlow.
I like Max, who works with a lot of supporting characters as the surviving Breathers (aka, the normal humans) try to take on the Brethren (the thinking undead menace of the book).
Despite his own quirky isolation, Max rises to the occasion throughout the story, and he's genuinely heroic, as I mentioned.
CHOSEN was my own take on a zombie apocalypse, with the twist being that the zombies in it are sentient, not mindless. Again, maybe that's not what fans of zombie stories want, but I thought it was cool.
Nate wallowed in his own isolation, as his minion experience deeply scarred him, made his eventual role as a Slayer a logical evolution. Whereas Max was isolated, but actually made meaningful connections with his community -- like the nightmare at Ludlow prompted Max to engage with defending his community, whereas Nate was out on the fringes of humanity and ultimately became a sort of underground figure.
They're good characters, but so few people have read SUCKAGE and CHOSEN that I think those characters never really got much consideration.
Although I'm a white middle-aged male writer (*GASP*) I'm nondenominational when it comes to my protagonists, whether male or female, white or nonwhite, etc. The story just gets the protagonist it needs, and I'm agnostic about who that should be. I don't have an agenda in terms of my protagonists, beyond them being just the right character for the story.
If Samantha, Paige, Nate, and Max were at a table together, it would be amusing. I feel like Paige would get along with everybody, Sam would be in knots with how she's perceived by the others, Nate would be mostly alright with the others, while Max would probably document the gathering with photographs.
Nate Sharp from SUCKAGE, and Max Paulsen from CHOSEN. I like both of these novels, although they were unfortunately largely ignored by readers.
Sometimes I think SUCKAGE suffered because it came out in the wake of the Twilight series making people generally sick of vampires. Even though it's actually a lengthy slam of vampires, where I was trying to convey the monstrosity of them.
Anyway, I'm fond of that book, where I took a vampire minion, Nate Sharp, and showed how sucky (pun intended) it would be if you were enthralled by a vampire. Yeah, I did that way before RENFIELD and WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS.
I'm fond of Nate as a character -- he's a smartass, cynical and wounded, and the story follows his escape from an emotionally abusive relationship (which happened to be with a vampire). It also reads like the evolution of a Slayer -- from minion to slayer, basically.
Not sure why people didn't groove to that book. I think probably because fans of vampire fiction love vampires, and didn't want to see them mocked or revealed to be the monsters that they would be. Not sure, but I thought Nate was a good character.
Max Paulsen from CHOSEN was a lot sharper (heh, I guess pun intended again) than Nate. And, in many ways, more edgy and heroic. He's a fairly paranoid photographer who's bearing witness to the takeover of the Pennsylvania town of Ludlow.
I like Max, who works with a lot of supporting characters as the surviving Breathers (aka, the normal humans) try to take on the Brethren (the thinking undead menace of the book).
Despite his own quirky isolation, Max rises to the occasion throughout the story, and he's genuinely heroic, as I mentioned.
CHOSEN was my own take on a zombie apocalypse, with the twist being that the zombies in it are sentient, not mindless. Again, maybe that's not what fans of zombie stories want, but I thought it was cool.
Nate wallowed in his own isolation, as his minion experience deeply scarred him, made his eventual role as a Slayer a logical evolution. Whereas Max was isolated, but actually made meaningful connections with his community -- like the nightmare at Ludlow prompted Max to engage with defending his community, whereas Nate was out on the fringes of humanity and ultimately became a sort of underground figure.
They're good characters, but so few people have read SUCKAGE and CHOSEN that I think those characters never really got much consideration.
Although I'm a white middle-aged male writer (*GASP*) I'm nondenominational when it comes to my protagonists, whether male or female, white or nonwhite, etc. The story just gets the protagonist it needs, and I'm agnostic about who that should be. I don't have an agenda in terms of my protagonists, beyond them being just the right character for the story.
If Samantha, Paige, Nate, and Max were at a table together, it would be amusing. I feel like Paige would get along with everybody, Sam would be in knots with how she's perceived by the others, Nate would be mostly alright with the others, while Max would probably document the gathering with photographs.
May 11, 2023
Robotic Reality
I feel like things are really accelerating regarding AI -- the AI players are slobbering at the opportunity to inflict AI on the rest of us, to the point that AI-generated art and AI-generated prose are going from hypothetical to real-life even as we're thinking about the implications.
Most (if not all) writers are going to see the ability to make a living as a writer vanish even as a figment of a dream, let alone a pragmatic hope.
Somebody somewhere will be feeding an AI all of Agatha Christie's mysteries and out will come a host of new AC mysteries. They'll be able to do that with all big-name/big-ticket writers -- someone, somewhere, will sell their name to it, and off it goes. The same thing'll happen with actors, once CGI gets there.
We'll be seeing current celebrities trading on their fame for AI proxies of themselves. It's all very dystopian.
What it means for most non-famous human writers is obsolescence and extinction.
Most (if not all) writers are going to see the ability to make a living as a writer vanish even as a figment of a dream, let alone a pragmatic hope.
Somebody somewhere will be feeding an AI all of Agatha Christie's mysteries and out will come a host of new AC mysteries. They'll be able to do that with all big-name/big-ticket writers -- someone, somewhere, will sell their name to it, and off it goes. The same thing'll happen with actors, once CGI gets there.
We'll be seeing current celebrities trading on their fame for AI proxies of themselves. It's all very dystopian.
What it means for most non-famous human writers is obsolescence and extinction.
May 9, 2023
Like, Totally
This'll seem both entirely intuitive and maybe abstract at the same time, but one of the challenges I suppose I've never hurdled is the likeability of my characters.
If anything is perhaps a barrier for prospective readers of my books, it's whether or not I've made likeable characters. I'll talk more about them specifically further down in this post, but for the moment, there's a question of what makes a character likeable to begin with.
Maybe I'm wrong, but I think relatability is probably a big part of it -- people like what they can relate to, and tend to dislike what they can't relate to.
As I've mentioned in other posts, I've always been part of the "freaks & geeks" subset, owing to my loving embrace of Punk as a teen (easily the most impactful music on me in terms of framing my outlook).
Ergo, what I consider a likeable character is probably not the sort of character that norms might like. I'm always a misfit and outlier, and so the characters I create tend to be that, but they're not necessarily sad and miserable outliers -- rather, they tend to be okay with that, and even defiantly so.
My characters operate on the outside looking in, on the fringes. They're not milling in the barnyard; rather, they're out in the wilderness beyond the family farm.
What I'm saying is normies aren't going to like my books, because they won't be able to relate to my characters. And I'm not going to write normie characters (particularly as protagonists).
Sure, people like to pretend that they're all rebels and misfits, but the pressure to conform is huge, and most do so.
If they do ever read, they look for characters that help reinforce their sense of themselves. A character that seems too beyond their experience is going to feel alien and unpleasant.
Looking at my characters, I think there's a lot to them, but if people can't relate to them, I don't know what to say. In writing circles, they take shortcuts by giving characters particular weaknesses and quirks that build reader sympathy for them.
And I'm sure that works -- afflict a character and you'll build sympathy and empathy with a reader IF they can relate to what that character's experiencing.
That was probably my biggest mistake with SAAMAANTHAA, the first novel I put out there. Samantha Hain is a hipster, a wannabe artist, a scenester and striver -- she yearns for creative validation, and only finds it after becoming a werewolf, which unleashes a brutal, monstrous creativity rooted in destruction that she'd never tapped in life.
From my POV, that's a compelling character arc. But I know from seeing people react to that novel that they hate those characters (I still maintain that I nicked the hipster jugular so sharply that hipsters get pissed off by that book). There are certainly hateworthy characters in that book, but that novel is heavily centered on the creative life, the life of an artist, and what you do, how it consumes you.
Since most readers aren't particularly creative and even fewer are artists, I suppose I narrowcast SAAMAANTHAA. I didn't write it for a wide audience.
Whereas RELICT, one of my most popular books, has a protagonist, Paige Wilkins, who more readers can relate to. She's a sort of fish out of water (pun intended) who's forced to deal with a sea monster. There's an elemental purity to the conflict and the plot of the story that resonates with readers.
It's a more relatable story in that Paige is just vacationing and finds herself in a struggle for her life. More readers are clearly able to relate to Paige than to Samantha. I didn't set out to make Paige more relatable; she simply was the "Final Girl" of that story, and rose to the occasion, whereas Sam was a wannabe among a group of hipsters who descended into true monstrosity -- maybe that's just a journey readers don't want to take.
I may deconstruct other books of mine that way, because I'm sort of curious if there are other insights I might glean from them with the benefit of objectivity and distance.
Again, I love all the characters I've made, and they're relatable to me, but I'll always side with the smart-assed, misunderstood misfit when push comes to shove.
If anything is perhaps a barrier for prospective readers of my books, it's whether or not I've made likeable characters. I'll talk more about them specifically further down in this post, but for the moment, there's a question of what makes a character likeable to begin with.
Maybe I'm wrong, but I think relatability is probably a big part of it -- people like what they can relate to, and tend to dislike what they can't relate to.
As I've mentioned in other posts, I've always been part of the "freaks & geeks" subset, owing to my loving embrace of Punk as a teen (easily the most impactful music on me in terms of framing my outlook).
Ergo, what I consider a likeable character is probably not the sort of character that norms might like. I'm always a misfit and outlier, and so the characters I create tend to be that, but they're not necessarily sad and miserable outliers -- rather, they tend to be okay with that, and even defiantly so.
My characters operate on the outside looking in, on the fringes. They're not milling in the barnyard; rather, they're out in the wilderness beyond the family farm.
What I'm saying is normies aren't going to like my books, because they won't be able to relate to my characters. And I'm not going to write normie characters (particularly as protagonists).
Sure, people like to pretend that they're all rebels and misfits, but the pressure to conform is huge, and most do so.
If they do ever read, they look for characters that help reinforce their sense of themselves. A character that seems too beyond their experience is going to feel alien and unpleasant.
Looking at my characters, I think there's a lot to them, but if people can't relate to them, I don't know what to say. In writing circles, they take shortcuts by giving characters particular weaknesses and quirks that build reader sympathy for them.
And I'm sure that works -- afflict a character and you'll build sympathy and empathy with a reader IF they can relate to what that character's experiencing.
That was probably my biggest mistake with SAAMAANTHAA, the first novel I put out there. Samantha Hain is a hipster, a wannabe artist, a scenester and striver -- she yearns for creative validation, and only finds it after becoming a werewolf, which unleashes a brutal, monstrous creativity rooted in destruction that she'd never tapped in life.
From my POV, that's a compelling character arc. But I know from seeing people react to that novel that they hate those characters (I still maintain that I nicked the hipster jugular so sharply that hipsters get pissed off by that book). There are certainly hateworthy characters in that book, but that novel is heavily centered on the creative life, the life of an artist, and what you do, how it consumes you.
Since most readers aren't particularly creative and even fewer are artists, I suppose I narrowcast SAAMAANTHAA. I didn't write it for a wide audience.
Whereas RELICT, one of my most popular books, has a protagonist, Paige Wilkins, who more readers can relate to. She's a sort of fish out of water (pun intended) who's forced to deal with a sea monster. There's an elemental purity to the conflict and the plot of the story that resonates with readers.
It's a more relatable story in that Paige is just vacationing and finds herself in a struggle for her life. More readers are clearly able to relate to Paige than to Samantha. I didn't set out to make Paige more relatable; she simply was the "Final Girl" of that story, and rose to the occasion, whereas Sam was a wannabe among a group of hipsters who descended into true monstrosity -- maybe that's just a journey readers don't want to take.
I may deconstruct other books of mine that way, because I'm sort of curious if there are other insights I might glean from them with the benefit of objectivity and distance.
Again, I love all the characters I've made, and they're relatable to me, but I'll always side with the smart-assed, misunderstood misfit when push comes to shove.
May 5, 2023
Creative License
It's kind of weird how the idea of paying artists and writers for their work has become, I don't know, controversial?
Or is the enticement of free things just too great for people to consider that creative people have bills to pay, too?
Do they think we're already made of money, and are just writing and making art for funsies? C'mon.
The only way to truly support an artist or writer is to buy their work (which is to literally put your money where your mouth is); anything else is just lip service. I think a lot of people are acculturated to just enjoy creations for free, without paying for them.
The net result of that is it'll literally put artists and writers out of business. Of course, maybe in these dystopian times, that's not a problem -- the owners of AI can simply have AI conjure up new works, and people thirsty for cheap entertainments (or even not-so-cheap) can enjoy the AI offerings, while the flesh-and-blood artists and writers just die off.
Is that where we're headed? Even the elite creatives are probably the most in danger, because they're the ones likeliest to be at risk of being mimicked by AI.
Can you see it? Somebody feeds all of Stephen King's works into an AI blender and presto! New Stephen King stories until the end of time. Or John Grisham, Joyce Carol Oates, Nora Roberts, etc. Just feed'em and sling'em out there -- the public will consume them.
There is very clearly an incentive in business to do this, and AI will give it to them. What's a flesh-and-blooder supposed to do? Write stuff an AI can't/won't imitate?
The public needs to understand that creators need to be supported if they're to continue. Or maybe it's simply our lot to be unappreciated and eventually made obsolete and extinct, while the AI becomes the centerpiece of the creative future.
Scary, dystopian stuff. I've already got several stories in mind around this notion, which I should write before AI does.
Or is the enticement of free things just too great for people to consider that creative people have bills to pay, too?
Do they think we're already made of money, and are just writing and making art for funsies? C'mon.
The only way to truly support an artist or writer is to buy their work (which is to literally put your money where your mouth is); anything else is just lip service. I think a lot of people are acculturated to just enjoy creations for free, without paying for them.
The net result of that is it'll literally put artists and writers out of business. Of course, maybe in these dystopian times, that's not a problem -- the owners of AI can simply have AI conjure up new works, and people thirsty for cheap entertainments (or even not-so-cheap) can enjoy the AI offerings, while the flesh-and-blood artists and writers just die off.
Is that where we're headed? Even the elite creatives are probably the most in danger, because they're the ones likeliest to be at risk of being mimicked by AI.
Can you see it? Somebody feeds all of Stephen King's works into an AI blender and presto! New Stephen King stories until the end of time. Or John Grisham, Joyce Carol Oates, Nora Roberts, etc. Just feed'em and sling'em out there -- the public will consume them.
There is very clearly an incentive in business to do this, and AI will give it to them. What's a flesh-and-blooder supposed to do? Write stuff an AI can't/won't imitate?
The public needs to understand that creators need to be supported if they're to continue. Or maybe it's simply our lot to be unappreciated and eventually made obsolete and extinct, while the AI becomes the centerpiece of the creative future.
Scary, dystopian stuff. I've already got several stories in mind around this notion, which I should write before AI does.
