A. Lee Martinez's Blog, page 43

Inside Too Many Curses

Hello, Action Force.  Today, we’re going to take a closer look at one of my older novels, recently re-released in mass market paperback.  Too Many Curses came out in 2008.  It was my last book with Tor Publishing, and probably because of that, it was initially only released in trade paperback.  No slight on Tor for that.  But now that it’s finally out in mass market, I thought it might be worth revisiting.

Too Many Curses is probably my most “Family-Friendly” story.  It doesn’t have much in the way of naughty language, absolutely no sexual content, and it takes place entirely in a magical castle filled with all kinds of intelligent, non-human characters.  Of all my books, this is probably the one that could most easily be adapted into some sort of traditional animated film, but traditional animated films were on the way out (timing is everything) by the time it shelves.

I wrote Curses with a couple of ideas strongly in my mind at the time.  I wanted to write a story where an ordinary (yet competent) character manages to be the hero by remaining mostly ordinary.  I wanted to include as many strange characters as I could reasonably fit into the story.  I wanted to use only one location.  And I wanted to explore the virtues of community and those qualities in others we consistently rely on that we also consistently undervalue.

This was where Nessy the kobold housekeeper sprang from.  Nessy is as far from a traditional heroic fantasy character as I could get.  Oh, I know a lot of people would think the villain is the opposite of the hero, but the hero and villain are usually more alike than most people realize.  Nessy is decidedly non-heroic on the surface.  She lacks most qualities of protagonists.  She isn’t unhappy with her lot in life, nor does her life really get turned upside-down at the start of the story.  She isn’t powerful.  She isn’t smarter than everyone around her.  She’s just quiet and practical with an attention to detail.

While I’ve created a lot of cool characters, I still think Nessy stands out to me because she is probably the easiest to overlook.  She isn’t flashy, and her character arc is one of the subtlest I’ve attempted.  The story isn’t about Nessy’s redemption or her rise to power.  She doesn’t conquer any obvious character flaws, doesn’t reach some startling realization about herself.  Nessy is perfectly aware of herself.  She knows who she is and what she’s good at, and she has no grand ambitions to achieve or terrible flaws to overcome.  Even writing this paragraph, I understand why some might find her difficult to relate to.

Nessy isn’t perfect, but in the end, Too Many Curses isn’t meant to be a story about one character, but about many.  While all my stories tend to be about the power of teamwork and how we’re all stronger together than apart, Curses is the one where community is at the heart of it.  The reason it has so many characters is because, despite being a single (albeit huge) location, the castle is meant to me a thriving place, a metropolis in itself full of people.  Most of those people aren’t actually people, but that doesn’t change that they’re all there, wrestling with their own dilemmas, dealing with life as it comes, day-by-day.

It isn’t always an easy premise to grasp.  Especially in America, where we tend to value individual achievement over communal effort, whether we realize it or not.  Yet the heroism of Too Many Curses doesn’t belong to any single character, but to the community as a whole.  The story arc is all about a group of characters, with vastly different backgrounds and abilities, coming together to achieve what they couldn’t do on their own.

All of the above sounds great, but it wouldn’t mean much if that’s all the story was about.  A consistent theme is cool, but there is another, more practical reason I had for writing the story.  I really like writing stories about weird creatures.  This probably comes as no surprise considering what I’ve published before Too Many Curses, and especially considering what I’ve published after.

Curses gave me the freedom to stretch the bounds of creative character ideas.  Margle’s castle is full of weird creatures, ranging from the undead to animate objects to talking animals and other strange things.  And they are, universally, an unglamorous collection.  Yet that lack of glamor is what binds them together and makes them such unlikely heroes.

That’s Too Many Curses in a nutshell.  If you haven’t read it yet, then, hey, maybe you might consider picking it up.  Pretty please?  And if this still hasn’t convinced you, thanks for reading anyway.  Appreciate your time.

Keelah Se’lai

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

The Toy Commercial That Changed the World

I know the buzz is mostly with Grand Theft Auto V these days, and I’m sure it’s a fine game.  But I’ve never been a big GTA fan.  I don’t know why other than I don’t especially enjoy the real world culture of violence they reflect.  I’m not going to be the guy who accuses GTA of glamorizing violence, but the world it portrays (even if it is deliberately exaggerated) can sometimes be a bit unsettling.  Bottom line:  without a strong fantasy element, I enjoy GTA now and then, but otherwise, I’d much prefer to fly around in a spaceship or attack a city as a giant monster.  No judgment on those who love GTA.  We all have our preferences.

This is why I’ve been enjoying the heck out of Saints Row 4, which is like GTA taken to ridiculous extremes.  It’s true that you’re still playing a sort of anti-hero who embodies a lot of criminal excess, but this is also a game where a street gang has become so famous and well-liked that their leader is now President of the U.S., and where aliens invade within fifteen minutes.  You drive around in space tanks, get super powers, and otherwise have ridiculous adventures, and it is just more appealing to me.  Also, the character design options are so diverse that I can play as a version of She-Hulk, which pretty much sold me before the power armor and fireball slinging showed up.

And if that wasn’t enough to hold my interest, at the very end of the game, there’s a pitch perfect Transformers: The Animated Movie reference.  Not to spoil it for those who haven’t gotten there yet, but it is pretty damn awesome.  And it reminded me that I’m a sucker for anything related to or about Transformers: The Animated Movie.

So, yeah, that was just a couple of paragraphs telling you why this post is going to be all about Transformers: TAM. If you haven’t ever seen it, I highly recommend it.  And if you have, I highly recommend you take some time to sit down and watch it again.  While I know that as a professional writer, admitting that a big budget toy commercial helped define the way I look at storytelling probably isn’t doing me any favors in the “serious writer” department, I’m also a guy who wrote a story about a sympathetic fuzzy green monster that wants to eat the moon, so I think that door was shut a while ago.

Transformers: TAM is a big boisterous adventure that barrels along from one action scene to another.  In a way, it’s much like Star Trek: Into Darkness, except that where Into Darkness tries to awkwardly stick character arcs and revisit better films, Transformers is all about moving forward.  Yes, I’m saying that Transformers is a better film than Into Darkness in terms of story construction.  And, heck, even in terms of action adventure.  Part of this is because Transformers isn’t following J.J. Abrams infamous “Mystery Box” theory, which seems to boil down to the audience needs mysteries, even when those mysteries don’t make sense and are completely unnecessary.  Also, this seems to be right to some degree, so take my criticism of this particular storytelling style with a grain of salt.

But there’s no need to get into a grudge match.  I’ve made it clear that I think Into Darkness is one of the poorest written films I’ve ever seen, and there’s no need to beat that dead horse once more.

What makes Transformers such a powerful film for me is that I saw it in theaters at the tender age of 13.  It is at this moment that a lot of young people start wanting some “edge” in their stories.  And edge was what I got.  The film is infamously brutal among fans for its disposal of established characters.  The reason was a simple one.  The previous line of toys needed to be wiped away so that a new line could be sold.  And what better way of removing these characters than to have them perish in the climactic battles of the Cybertronian Wars.  As a kid, I wasn’t expecting the carnage that was to come, and I still remember the power it had over me.

Sure, these were characters all based on a toyline, but each had their own personality, their own ways of operating.  Even the most minor character probably had a toy and each of those toys came with a little data card giving their background, personality, and special powers.  I’ve never been a fan of “extended universes” (and if you try to rebutt criticism of the Star Wars prequels with the phrase “in the extended universe”, I will probably give you such a pinch), but the Transformers, by their very nature, were an extended universe.

So when the Decepticons attack a shuttle and immediately kill Prowl, I knew things were getting real.  This if followed by the death of several other named (and even regularly speaking) characters.  The culmination of the scene is the ignoble death of Iron Hide.  It’s a powerful scene.  As powerful and tragic as any death in adventure fiction.  Optimus Prime’s second-in-command, a character renowned for his optimism and enthusiasm, helpless at Megatron’s feet.  Megatron, smirking, delivering the killing blow as if swatting a fly.

Which brings up also why Megatron remains one of my favorite villains to this day.  He is neither malicious or cruel.  He isn’t a paper tiger.  Unlike a lot of villains aimed at kids, he’s no coward.  He has his own motivations, and he won’t hesitate to destroy you if you stand in his way.  Of course, up to the this point, he was hobbled by the need to keep all the characters alive.  Once the film gave him license to unleash his full power, he slaughters quite a few of his enemies.  But it isn’t the slaughter that gives him weight.  It’s the fact that he is utterly ruthless and somehow admirable at the same time.  He’s the bad guy.  There’s no doubt about that.  But he is driven, determined, powerful, and above all, clearly motivated.

It’s also why he serves as such a counterpoint to Optimus Prime.  Like many great archenemies, they have a heck of a lot in common.  The biggest difference between them is that Megatron sees compassion as weakness and compromise as an act of cowardice.  In all other respects, they’re powerful leaders and well-defined characters.  This is why when the final confrontation between them comes early in the film, the scene has a lot to work with.  It’s not just they’re great fighters who have had enough of each other, as embodied by the great exchange:

OPTIMUS PRIME: One shall stand, One shall fall.

MEGATRON: Why throw away your life so wrecklessly?

PRIME: You should ask yourself the same question, Megatron.

Yeah, these guys are going to finish it, right here, right now.  And it ain’t going to be pretty.  The pitched battle between them remains one of my favorite confrontations in storytelling history.  They pound the living scrap out of each other, and finally, Megatron falls to his knees.  He pleads for mercy, and Optimus is actually disgusted by the request.  Megatron, he who is without mercy, now seeks it.  And you get the impression that, for all his heroic nature, even Optimus isn’t willing to forgive Megatron for his crimes.  The scene doesn’t get to play out though because it’s all a ploy, and Megatron is about to shoot Optimus when Hot Rod brashly attempts to save Optimus.

Again, it’s possible I’m reading too much into it, but I always took from this that Optimus Prime wasn’t fooled by Megatron’s pleas.  Optimus knows Megatron better than that.  He knows that Megatron only sees mercy as a weakness to exploit.  But Hot Rod, well-meaning as he might be, gets in the way, and as a result, while pushing Hot Rod out of the line of fire, Optimus is shot over and over again.  He refused to fall, and manages to deliver one final powerful blow that sends Megatron crashing to earth.  The battle of Prime and Megatron ends in mutual destruction.

Let’s skip ahead to one of my other favorite scenes where we see the difference between the Autobots and Decepticons.  Optimus Prime dies, surrounded by his allies and friends and in his final moments, a terrible sadness falls over all those assembled.  Meanwhile, Megatron is in bad shape, but can probably be repaired.  But the Decepticons have no such compassion, and so they toss him out into space like useless garbage.  Megatron falls victim to his “Strength is all” philosophy, and it is both fitting and somehow tragic.

I could go on and analyze every scene of this film, but you get the idea by now.  I love this movie, and practically everything about it.  Every scene crackles with personality.  Every bit of dialogue has character behind it.  And Unicron (the planet devouring giant robot villain of the story) has one of the greatest villain lines in cinema history:

For a time, I considered sparing your precious Cybertron, but now, you will witness . . . it’s DISMEMBERMENT!

He follows it up by literally punching a planet, just in case you weren’t taking him seriously.

In many ways, the film is brutal and dark, but it ultimately ends on a positive note.  The Autobots defeat Unicron, save Cybertron.  Even more importantly, this marked the official end of the Cybertronian Wars, with the Autobots taking control of their homeworld once again.  It’s true that the Decepticons are not completely defeated, and they will remain in the animated series as villains.  But the dynamic is different, and for the rest of the classic series, the Decepticons would be the ones on the outside, scheming to retake their former glory.

One final note:  I will go on record as saying that the soundtrack, while very much a product of its time, is also really, really good to this day.  There are songs that have transcended the film to become cultural touchstones.  It’s no accident that when Saints Row 4 needed an inspiring song about triumph in the darkest hour that they chose something from Transformers. Heck, the first song to play after I married my wife was “The Touch” by Stan Bush because, yes, I married the most perfect woman in the world.

There’s no doubt that nostalgia colors my view of this film, but at the same time, I’ll take a lean, energetic story like this over a bloated, convoluted blockbuster any day.  Transformers: TAM is beautifully executed film, and it succeeds in being a fitting climax to the series.  I’m happy to say its influence stays with me to this day, and that’s not bad, considering it is basically a toy commercial.  But it’s a toy commercial with heart and soul, and in the end, that’s all that matters.

Till All Are One.

Keelah Se’lai

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Mailbag: Merchandizing and Resentment

It’s mailbag time once again, Action Force.  Remember, if you ever have any questions or comments, you can reach me at Hipstercthulhu@hotmail.com, on Twitter (@ALeeMartinez), or Facebook (A. Lee Martinez).

 

Paul Angelosanto asks:

How do you think it would feel to have one of your books merchandized?  How would you feel about a Helen and Troy board game?  I imagine it would feel especially good for your wallet but I was wondering how the artist side of you would feel about it?

Obviously, I’m all for it.  Being a hardcore board game and card game fan, myself, I’d love it if one of my books inspired a game.  But I don’t limit myself to merely games.  Posters, movies, comic books, tea cozies, bathmats, collectible figurines . . . I’m more than willing to jump into the merchandizing pool if the opportunity should arise.

Speaking of which, it’s been a long time since I’ve mentioned my Cafepress store (Cafepress.com/aleemartinez) where you can find some cool T-shirts, mugs, etc.  It didn’t really take off, and that’s probably my fault.  But it’s there and worth checking out if you haven’t seen it yet.

Merchandizing is a funny thing because it can be a double-edged sword.  There’s always the risk of “selling out”, but I don’t see any reason to worry about that yet.  It’d be a nice problem to have actually.  Right now, I’m camped out in relative obscurity, and I’d welcome the chance to be told I sold out my artistic integrity because of the superpopular cartoon, movie, or video game that came out based on something I wrote.

Ultimately, my feelings always come down to this.  No matter what else, I’ve written books I am very happy about, and if I should happen to branch out into games, movies, action figures, even if those things were terrible endeavors, the books would still remain.  That’s really what I’m all about as a novelologist.  I never write books in hopes of them becoming movies or collectible card games, but if it should happen, I’m not going to complain.  And if those merchandizing efforts lead to something great, then all the better.  If they only lead to more cash in my pocket, I’d be fine with that too.

Being an artist doesn’t have to be a war between success and integrity.  That’s probably hopelessly naive on my part, but until I see otherwise, I’ll believe it.  And if I should happen to be wrong about it, then I’ll admit here that I’m all for selling out a little bit at this stage.  Maybe not the most inspiring answer, but absolutely true.

 

P.T. Dilloway writes:

On the “Today” show this morning they were talking to a 21 year old British girl that got a book published, “The Bone Season”. It was getting lots of publicity, and a movie deal, and from what I saw on B&N and Amazon it got ok reviews, but when you look at all of the ones not written by sycophants it really is not a very well-written or polished book and probably would have never been published, but it sort of crosses “Harry Potter” and “Hunger Games” with maybe some other YA tropes mixed in, which I think is one of those things that the agents and publishers are looking for these days.

Does is make you feel upset when you see someone like that, really young and not very well written, getting published and a movie deal and all sorts of publicity when it has been such as uphill climb to even get noticed, let alone published, especially in a similar genre to some of your own stuff?  Do you think it cheapens the writing community or career when someone immature gets so much (possibly undeserved) attention?

There’s more than one question here, so let’s unpack them one at a time.

First of all, I’d like to state that this is the first I’ve heard of this particular book, and so I have no opinion on it.  Could be amazing.  Could be terrible.  Don’t know.  Won’t comment on that.

I will say though that being young doesn’t automatically mean someone is a bad writer.  For that matter, being older is no genuine indication of someone being a good writer either.  As a member of the DFW Writer’s Workshop for over a decade now, I’ve seen plenty of aspiring writers pass through our doors.  I’ve seen young writers who were solid storytellers and older folks who struggle to make things interesting.  Like most skills, the true measure of a writer’s talent is usually found in how much time they’ve spent mastering the art of writing, and it’s perfectly reasonable for a young person to have loads more writing experience than an older person.

Add to this that quality is such a nebulous thing to measure, I’m rarely confident criticizing anything as genuinely “bad”.  I don’t mind saying that I, myself, found something disappointing or even poorly executed.  See my essays on Man of Steel or Tron Legacy or . . . well, a lot of stuff.  But I always try to preface it with the acknowledgement that it is just one guy’s opinion, and that my opinion is often out of step with what your average person wants.

Also, a lot of people don’t really want anything complicated.  They want to read stories that strike an emotional center, and they couldn’t give a damn about all those things writers have trained to notice and care about.  Star Trek: Into Darkness is an unending failure of story construction and sensible plotting, and for a lot of folks, they either don’t notice OR notice but don’t care.  Twilight breaks some of the most important elements of conflict and character development, and none of the fans care because that’s not why they’re reading it.  And while I can certainly find that frustrating on occasion, it’s just the truth.  No point in fighting it.

As for the notion that I might resent someone for being successful in the same business I’m in, I’ll admit that’s mostly something I don’t have to deal with.  I would love to be more successful, but I also don’t think that someone else’s success necessarily came from stealing my own opportunities.  Perhaps I’m just not wired that way.  Or perhaps I just don’t believe that quality and success are necessarily the same things.  For that matter, I’m not even sure I can easily define either quality or success.

I will say that Hollywood isn’t looking for well-written books to make into movies.  Why would they care about that?  In the end, no matter how eloquent a book is, a lot of that eloquence is going to get lost in the transition from page to screen.  Hollywood is looking for commercial ideas, stories that would translate well to film.  But, even more, Hollywood is looking for “buzz”.  If a book has a good hook (such as a young writer), that’s what Hollywood really desires.  Anything to make selling the film to the general public easier and justify the expense of producing a film.  Quality isn’t entirely unimportant, but it’s not at the top of the list.

As for the notion of “Cheapening the writing community”, I’m not quite sure how to respond to that.  While I do consider myself an artist, I chafe under the idea that there is some higher calling to what I do.  It’s a job, and I take it seriously.  But I don’t take it that seriously.  It’s dangerously pretentious to assume that there is worthwhile artistic endeavor or shameful bubblegum and nothing in-between.  I get stuck between this dynamic far too often, and it probably doesn’t help that I’m writing neither high art, nor brain candy as far as I’m concerned.  I believe that any honest attempt to express ourselves is worthy of respect, even if I might not enjoy the form that expression takes.  Yes, even as much as I disliked Man of Steel, I can appreciate the artistic talent behind it.  And even when that artistic talent fails (as it often does), I can respect the effort.

I was into B movies before it was cool, and some of the best B movies are glorious failures.  Yet it is the effort to succeed that makes them so admirable to me.  It’s also why I have a hard time with movies like Sharknado, which ape the failure of a B movie with none of the ambition.  Yet even then, this is just my pet peeve, and a subject for another time.

All of the above ends up being a long way of saying, I try hard not to resent anyone their successes (as long as they don’t let those successes go to their egos), and I long ago stopped believing that there was rhyme or reason to our successes or failures.  Life is unpredictable, and all we can really do is our best and hope.  So that’s what I do, and I don’t waste a lot of time obsessing over why one thing gets to be popular while something else doesn’t.  And I don’t begrudge anyone fortunate enough to be doing better than me because life is full of ups and downs, and there’s little point in tallying the unfairness of the universe because, in my experience, the universe isn’t unfair.  It’s indifferent.

Until I finally get that movie deal.  That will be due entirely to my own amazing talent, of course.

 

Keelah Se’lai

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

The Diversity Post

Fantasy and science fiction could use some diversity, both in its creators and its stories.  I’m not the first person to say that.  I won’t be the last.  But it’s still worth talking about.

More ethnic diversity would certainly be welcome.  It is a sad state of affairs when the most ethnically diverse cast in mainstream science fiction is found in Star Trek movies, all based on a TV show from the 60′s.  It’s why, for all of the reboot’s flaws (and there are many, many, many flaws) it still stands out as progressive in its casting and portrayal of the diverse pool of humanity.  There is something wrong about that.

Yet even the movies and TV shows I love suffer quite a bit from a lack of ethnic diversity among their casts.  I loved Buffy the Vampire Slayer but its central cast was always full of Caucasians.  To be fair, the show at least had plenty of women, a few lesbians, and, yes, even a black guy eventually!  (Hooray?)  And as much as I enjoyed The Avengers, this was a lily white cast save for Samuel Jackson, who is basically able to get over the color barrier because people love his Bad Ass Motherf@@@er schtick.  The Marvel movies are a mixed bag, but one thing they’re not very mixed about is the number of non-white people who show up in important roles.  At least Thor had Idris Elba as Heimdall, who is a supporting character but basically one who helps save the day.  And the Iron Man has Rhodey, who gets his own power armor even if he doesn’t do much with it.  Although it’s annoying that no serious attempt has been made to give any of Marvel’s many female or non-white superheroes their own movie.  The Marvel movies are an ambitious project, but they aren’t ambitious enough for that.

I get that some people seem to have a negative reaction to unrealistically diverse casts, though I’ve never understood why.  Fantasy and science fiction, by its very nature, is unrealistic.  Why someone would be completely fine with vampires and aliens, but uncomfortable with a diverse cast of characters always strikes me as nothing more than presumed privilege.  But anytime you try to talk about privilege, someone is going to start arguing with you about specifics without discussing the obvious truth that it exists.

But it’s not just about privilege.  It’s about media that subconsciously (and consciously) limits itself to a very Eurocentric view of culture.  And a very limited Eurocentric view at that.  Though fantasy and science fiction has a wealth of culture to draw from, that pool tends to be pretty damned small.

As a writer, I try to change that when I can.  In my novel Divine Misfortune, I deliberately sought out gods you didn’t normally see.  Not just the usual Greek, Norse, and Egyptian varieties.  In Helen and Troy’s Epic Road Quest, I incorporated nods to Asian and Indian myth.  Monster doesn’t just only feature the standard chimeras and hydras we associate with fantasy but also an Inuit walrus dog monster and a Scottish goat man creature.  None of these are meant as versions of fantastic affirmative action, but simply as an acknowledgement that there’s a heck of a lot of cool cultural traditions to draw upon.  Heck, Ogbunabali, African god of death, has a very small part in Divine Misfortune and became one of my favorite characters.  So much so, I’m currently writing a short story with him in it.

But diversity is even more than this.  It’s a choice by the storyteller and the audience to broaden horizons.  My latest novel, Helen and Troy’s Epic Road Quest, features what I consider to be a diverse cast, most notably in their stage of life.  Helen and Troy are young adults while Nigel Skullgnasher and The Wild Hunt are a group of orcs in their mid-life crisis.  All the characters have interesting stories to tell, and I think that they can tell those stories in the same tale.  But this is why I have a hard time classifying Epic Road Quest as YA.  It prominently features forty year old characters who are struggling with the problems of being forty years old.

And I simply don’t have time to point out that there’s an appalling lack of archetype diversity.  Part of the reason I believe I get labeled as a funny writer (other than the fact that I do write some funny stuff) is that I deliberately choose not to write about orphans, kings, orphaned kings, Jedi masters, superwizards, etc.  Monster is considered a comedy because it’s about a guy who hunts monsters who is not particularly great at his job.  Neither is he that bad at it though.  And when he exits the story pretty much the same guy he entered it as (with no big reveal about how he’s secretly the reincarnation of Zeus or something like that), a lot of people seem genuinely confused by that.  I can’t honestly blame them.  It’s just not the way it’s supposed to be.

It’s great that urban fantasy has introduced so many fantasy heroines, but do they all need to kick butt in the exact same way, have the same conflicted love interests, have the same too-strong-for-their-own-good attitudes?  Where are the gentle souls (male and female) who fight demons and vampires with their wits, not their superpowers?  Where are the happily married vampire hunters or the alien-human hybrid who isn’t continually conflicted?  Shouldn’t there be room in fantasy for that kind of thing too?  There is, and if you look hard enough, you can probably find them.  But you shouldn’t have to look nearly as hard as that.

There should be more diversity in science fiction and fantasy.  More hopping vampires.  More flying head monsters based on Iroquois tradition.  More regular folks battling dragons.  More non-white people.  Heck, more non-people.  Less grand destinies.  Less angry loners.  Less fantasy kingdoms built on European tradition with a fantasy sheen slapped over it.  Less fantasy heroes capable of slaughtering hordes of orcs but incapable of forming a stable relationship or family life.

We can do better.  Fantasy and science fiction should dare to dream.  It should take chances and break rules, even its own.  Otherwise, what is it for?  Otherwise, I fear that in another twenty years when Star Trek gets its next reboot, it’ll still be the most diverse cast in fantasy.  And that would just be embarrassing.

Keelah Se’lai

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Continuing Drama versus The Dreaded Third Act

One of the reason I enjoy writing standalone novels is that it allows me to tell stories that have a beginning, middle, and an end.  Series fiction is, almost universally, stuck in the second act by its very nature.

ACT ONE: Peter Parker gets bit by a radioactive spider, gains superpowers, learns a lesson on personal responsibility.

ACT TWO: Spider-Man struggles to fight crime and redeem himself in his own eyes and the eyes of the city he defends.

ACT THREE: Spider-Man learns to balance his obligations as both a superhero and an ordinary man, gets married, has some kids, stops being such a sadsack.

Yes, it’s that Act Three that’s the problem.  It NEVER happens.  It was never intended to happen.  Spider-Man is stuck in that second act, and he will never actually get out of it.  This is why he’ll never have a successful marriage (even when married to his beautiful dreamgirl who is both understanding and a supermodel), he’ll always be an outcast (even while a prominent member of The Avengers, his world’s preeminent superhero team), and why he’ll always be broke (did I mention his wife was a successful supermodel?), and always ALWAYS debating whether or not he should even be Spider-Man in the first place (regardless of how many times he has saved New York and the world).

None of that is actually a big deal at first, but eventually, after decades of Spidey stories, it can seem a bit redundant.  Taken as a collection of continuity, we end up with a Peter Parker who keeps learning over and over again that he needs to get his act together and never actually doing it.  Comic book continuity is a nebulous thing, but still, you’d think after forty plus years the guy could make some progress.

This is another reason I don’t care for most epic fantasy series.  While watching Game of Thrones, even casually, I was struck by how little story progress occurs on that show.  Because each season is an adaptation of a book that is in itself part of an extended second act, you end up with a story that looks cool, but really moves as if stuck in molasses.  Oh, characters die, and there are dramatic upheavals now and then, but in the end, it’s a slow slog away from status quo.

Neither is meant as a criticism because that’s just a necessary part of writing an ongoing series or an epic.  Spider-Man was created for a very specific type of story and to change him so much that he can’t tell that story would almost certainly be a mistake.  A Game of Thrones is all about, well, a game of thrones.  Once you finish that game, you finish the series.  This is just the way these characters and stories are intended to work.

Perhaps this is why I prefer my recurring characters to have relatively little baggage.  Tarzan only wrestles with his savage jungle background for as long as it is interesting.  Otherwise, he’s out there, fighting bad guys and dinosaurs and having grand adventures.  John Carter is a heroic blank overall, but that frees him up to go fight every weirdo and monster Barsoom has to offer.  By being perfectly content and functional on their own, both characters are allowed to have adventures.  And, sure, Tarzan and John Carter will walk away from those adventures pretty much the same guys they started them as, but both the story and I know that going in.

The same might be said for a lot of characters, but when those characters start expecting me to invest in their character arcs when I fully realize those arcs can never be completed (for good or bad), I find myself annoyed.  Worse, I can actively dislike a story simply for existing.

As much as I loved Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I never cared for any of the romantic stuff because I knew it would never lead anywhere.  Buffy would never have a stable relationship because such relationships seem to signal The Dreaded Third Act of her character, and this is forbidden.  Just as the Cartwright boys in Bonanza were never going to get married so when a love interest showed up, you knew she was bound to leave or die.  One of the few missteps in the series as far as I’m concerned came when Xandar and Anya, two supporting characters with a long, well-established relationship, weren’t allowed to get married because . . . well, because as much as Joss Whedon gets credit for writing interesting female characters, he still tends to believe that marriage should exist as a plot device, not as a story worthy of itself.  If you don’t believe it, just check out Firefly, where a happily married couple was clearly always intended to be sacrificed to the gods of drama.

Because most stories (especially recurring stories) are stuck in the second act, there are a lot of stories that never really get told.  It’s rare to see a functional marriage in fiction because functional relationships are harder to squeeze drama out of and because we have been conditioned through years of storytelling that marriage equals the conclusion of a character’s story.  It signals the end, not the beginning, and I’ll admit, as a married guy myself, I find that both annoying and preposterous.

To some degree, the very notion of The Dreaded Third act is absurd.  Life isn’t neat and tidy, and human existence is a complicated nut to crack.  This is why, even though I write standalone novels with a clear beginning, middle, and end, I usually attempt to make it feel as if the story is ending, but the world is going on.  In a strange way, by choosing not to be stuck in a permanent second act, I can create a world full of stories, some beginning, some ending, some in-between.  Because that’s life.  Its beginnings and endings are not clear, and just because one story ends (i.e. Spider-Man actually makes peace with being Spider-Man), it doesn’t have to mean that character’s story is over (i.e. A Spider-Man who is actually comfortable in his own skin still has plenty of stories to tell).

None of this is going to change any time soon.  It’s too ingrained in our cultural perceptions, and if I had a dime for every time a character with any sort of contentment was considered “boring” or any sort of genuine character growth was considered “ruined”, I’d have a lot of dimes.  But it is something worth discussing, and who knows?  It might change some day.

The Dreaded Third Act comes, whether we want it to or not.

Keelah Se’lai

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Mailbag: Grimdark Morality

It’s time once again to dip into the Action Force Mailbag.

 

Charles Harrington writes:

“Recently I read on a quote from my favorite adventure game creators (Lori and Corey Cole of the Quest for Glory series) about how important it was for the hero characters in their games (even the thieves) to act heroically.  They said they received a large number of letters from fans who told them their video game series inspired them to be more heroic in life.  So this begs the question: is the reverse true to a degree?

I ask because every time a controversy crops up in the video game world people cry out “It’s just a game, it’s not real.”  A random example was the outrage among some players over not being able to kill children in Skyrim because it felt “unrealistic” in an open-world game that lets you be evil.  I am not saying people who play shooters will shoot people, I’m just saying I feel like people who play villains or anti-heroes all the time might feel less inclined to actual heroic behavior or at least unsympathetic.  I enjoyed Emperor Mollusk thoroughly and wondered what your thoughts were when you created a classic villain turned unlikely hero.”

This is a big question.  I write a lot about how I like genuinely heroic characters and heroic fiction, and I think it’s worth clarifying a point or two.

My criticism of dark fiction isn’t a moral one.  I am not offended by grimdark.  I just don’t generally enjoy it.  But I will go on record as saying that I don’t think enjoying grimdark makes one a less moral person.  I don’t believe this anymore than I believe Dungeons and Dragons leads to Satanism or that watching stories about radioactive monsters will make one desire to be a radioactive monster.  (Although radioactive monsters are cool.)

It’s a subtle distinction, but it is worth noting.  So often, when people complain about excessive sex, gratuitous language, and other such “adult content”, they seem to be approaching it from a moral standpoint.  But the moral high ground isn’t something I feel like claiming, and there’s a real danger to creating a culture war, i.e. My Media is Better than Your Media.  Rarely, do I believe that.  Even more rarely do I feel comfortable stating that aloud in a public forum.

Man of Steel is probably the most notable exception of late because I do believe there is a genuine cultural loss when even Superman isn’t allowed to be a symbol of hope and idealism, but that has as much to do with my own deeply held perceptions about the Superman character in general as any evidence that this is true.  A world where Man of Steel is deemed a successful Superman film is a sadder place from my point of view, but I’m not comfortable calling it a less moral place.

Fiction is fiction is fiction.  It’s true that we tend to emulate fiction to some degree, and fiction emulates us in return.  It’s a cycle of influence, and I don’t think it begins or ends.  That’s what makes it a cycle, the perpetual motion machine of our shared culture.  We can argue whether we like grimdark fiction because we’re grimdark ourselves OR if we are grimdark because we partake of grimdark fiction.  It’s a pointless argument.  I personally don’t believe that grimdark fiction makes people good or bad, and when I say I don’t care for Game of Thrones or Nolan’s Batman films, I mean exactly that.  Nothing more.

I will admit though that it bothers me that we, as a culture, are more suspicious of sincerity and equate cynicism or realism (as it is conventionally defined) as more innately valuable.  We seem to be convinced that innately good characters are boring and that tales of bold heroism must be tempered with blood and grimness.  A big part of that is just a cultural shift.  I have spoken to many folks who didn’t find Man of Steel to be grim at all, and, by current standards, it really isn’t.  Given that example, can it be any wonder that Pacific Rim, an unashamed tale of heroism, comes across as childish and slight?

All of these are thoughts I’ve expressed before, but I think it comes down to this.  Fiction is a place where we indulge our emotional needs in a safe, nonjudgmental space.  If someone wants to read about puppies being tortured or domination fantasies, they should be allowed to do so without anyone assuming they are serial killers or sexual deviants.  Just as my love of Skylanders and giant robots shouldn’t automatically brand me as an arrested adolescent.  To be sure, I am offended by some media in the sense that I would never watch or enjoy it.  I could never watch a Hostel or Saw movie because I find them unrewarding and, yes, even upsetting.  But if someone enjoys that sort of thing, I see no reason to judge them for partaking of them in their fiction.

For me, it’s not a moral question, but, if I can be honest, it does sometimes bother me that our shared culture is increasingly disinterested in untainted heroism.  Sure, it’s not realistic, but who ever said fiction’s job was to be realistic?  I’m probably the wrong guy to talk about that though because I am the dude who wrote a book about a space squid supervillain.

I think though what I miss isn’t the pure heroes, but just heroes in general.  Game of Thrones has plenty of characters and some are goodish, others are badish.  And that’s a deliberate choice, but it’s also why I can’t get into the show.  I don’t have anybody to genuinely root for.  I’m all for flawed characters, but too much focus on the flaws just leave me disinterested.  And the dark side of all this realism is that the few  “bad guys” have to become even worse by comparison, which means rape, bloodshed, and other assorted unpleasantness.  And, again, I know it’s often unrealistic when a truly bad guy doesn’t kill a kid or when a villain is more interested in seizing the west coast than torturing the hero to death.  I’ve always known that.

Emperor Mollusk is an interesting comparison because in the course of his life, he’s definitely done some truly terrible things.  He is responsible for the death of millions, and he only regrets it in the most dry, intellectual way.  He is a flawed character without a doubt, but he is also a character trying to grow and change, who is his own worst enemy but also out to live his life in the best way possible.  Arrogant, yes.  Cruel, never.  And it’s that line that makes him an interesting character, even if it is probably a highly unlikely pairing of traits.

Basically, I think a culture that views heroes and heroism as antiquated has issues, and while I wouldn’t call mopey Superman or depressed Batman signs of a culture in decline, I would say it’s more one dimensional and poorer for it.  Just as a world where all fiction was superhappy and unrelentingly positive would be the poorer for it.

Or it could be even simpler than all of the above, and simply what happens when adults are given children’s toys and thrust all their adult baggage on those toys.  Maybe you have to be a kid to believe in a Superman who can save Metropolis from being reduced to rubble, and maybe only a child can take Batman at face value as a good guy in a bat costume who fights a bad guy dressed like clown.  If so, that’s a real shame because, while it’s good to grow up, it shouldn’t be at the cost of the more optimistic children inside of us.  It’s all a balancing act.

So to summarize after way too long writing on this topic (sorry):

Is the grimdarking of our heroes a moral issue?  Probably not.

Is the grimdarking of our heroes a detriment to our culture?  Probably so.

I leave it at that for the moment.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Tidy Little Labels

Greetings, Action Force.

Let’s talk about Helen and Troy’s Epic Road Quest today.  Recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that subtle writing is a waste of time.  Not that it isn’t cool to do, but subtle can often be too subtle.  If an artist wants people to really appreciate his work, it’s okay to simply come out and say what it’s about.  This isn’t such a bad thing because if it helps the audience appreciate it more, then cool.  And if the audience doesn’t like it, it’s unlikely an explanation is going to change that.

So today I’m going to talk about the central themes of Helen and Troy’s Epic Road Quest.  If you would rather not read my thoughts on that, feel free to skip this post.  If you’d rather make up your own mind about what it is (or isn’t) about, it’s cool with me.  Just because I intend something doesn’t mean you have to take that intention at face value.  You can discard it.  I don’t mind at all.

For everybody else, let’s get to it.  FYI, this is going to be a “serious” discussion.  I know a lot of people like to think of me as a frivolous, cotton candy writer, but I think a hell of a lot about what I write.  Jokes are never my intention, and as absurd as my stories might be, they aren’t meant to be empty of content or brain candy, as is so often thrown about, even by well-meaning fans.

Epic Road Quest is, above all, a novel about identity.  Both the identity we impose on ourselves and the one the larger world tries to force upon us.  It uses the mythic quest as a backdrop because it seemed the perfect place to explore that idea.

In myths, heroes and villains are usually clear cut.  When Theseus enters the Minotaur’s maze, we know who we are supposed to be rooting for, and it isn’t the cannibal monster with the bull head.  When Hercules fights the hydra, we aren’t supposed to ponder whether the creature deserves it.  It’s a monster.  He’s the hero.  End of story.

But what if that line gets a little blurry?  This is a common enough theme in my stories that no one should be very surprised by it.  I love writing about weird creatures and making them the heroes of stories, so while it isn’t always the intent, it crops up quite a bit.  But this isn’t as weird as it once was.  Vampires and werewolves can be heroes.  Evil genius squids from Neptune can be protagonists.  And even writing a story exploring what a cosmic monster might think about destroying the world isn’t all that strange at this point.

Epic Road Quest is probably the first story I’ve written that focuses on questions of identity.  Mack Megaton (The Automatic Detective) might have wrestled with his own inner demons, but society itself saw him as redeemable.  Emperor Mollusk (Emperor Mollusk versus The Sinister Brain) is viewed by the rest of his universe as a villain, but he doesn’t have any internal dilemmas because of that.  But Helen Nicolaides (Helen and Troy’s Epic Road Quest) is a character built to explore the dichotomy of personal versus social identity.

Helen is a minotaur.  She is also a young woman on the verge of adulthood.  While she is fortunate enough to live in a world where her condition doesn’t lead to ostracism, it comes with conflicts, both internal and external.  Because Helen’s world is much like ours (with a magical history) she has the cultural baggage that comes with it.  She knows too that she is a monster, and that a part of the world will always view her as something scary or odd.  Helen lives her whole life knowing that when she walks into a room, people are going to notice.  She doesn’t have the luxury of anonymity, of just being a normal person.

She also knows that assumptions are going to be made about her simply because how how she looks, and that a lot of those assumptions are going to be unflattering.  The book opens with two of those assumptions when her boss assumes she is a virgin and when the hamburger god assumes she is a “beast made to torment and bedevil”.  While these are both bad guy characters, there is no doubting many others would make this assumption, and it’s a safe bet that at some point, a mother clutched her child closer while Helen walked by.

To add even more difficulty to Helen’s life, she is a woman.  Let’s face it.  A lot of the qualities that might make Helen attractive from a masculine perspective work against her as a woman.  She’s too tall.  She’s large.  She has superhuman strength.  She has a cow head.  Okay, so maybe the cow head wouldn’t be considered a positive for a guy either, but otherwise, she is hardly the model of femininity that gets thrown around a lot, even for “strong” female protagonists.

Part of me would’ve loved to see Helen on the cover of the novel in the typical “strong female” dress and pose.  You know what I mean if you’ve glanced through the urban fantasy shelves.  The standard is of the heroine standing in some super sexy outfight, her hair whipping in the wind, her face with a come hither expression.  If her back is too you, she will probably have a tramp stamp of some sort (usually tribal), and her ass will be perfect and round.

Helen is not made for a cover like that, although she is certainly deserving of it.  She is meant to be attractive, and mention is made that her figure, while not a size zero, is curvaceous and appealing.  The fur, hooves, horns, and cow head might turn off a lot of guys, but then again, there are always furries, who I wasn’t aiming for while writing this book but I have no problem attracting (forgive the pun).

Helen doesn’t quite fit that kind of cover though, and not just because of the way she looks.  Helen isn’t a badass who slays demons as a hobby.  She is only a regular person who one day is chosen by an accident of fate to go on a quest.  This is the external part of expectations placed upon her, quite literally, by a larger universe.  Up to the beginning of the story, Helen has led a rather ordinary life.  It is only when she is thrust out into the larger world (quite unwillingly) that she must wrestle in even more confrontational ways with her nature versus her desires versus the desires placed upon her by the world.  It is at the heart of her conflict, and it is why, aside from watching her punch dragons and fight cyclopses, she is a character worthy of our time.

Helen is the most obvious, but nearly all the characters in this story are dealing with the exact same dilemmas.  Whether it’s Troy (“The Ideal”) or Nigel Skullgnasher and The Wild Hunt (“The Savage Horde”).  Heck, Franklin (“The Wannabe”) embodies this sometimes more than Helen.  And even Grog (“The Reluctant Orc God”) is no stranger to questions of identity.

A lot of people will no doubt read Epic Road Quest as merely a clever comedy, and it is a funny book.  But a lot of that humor comes from the exploration of these struggles and paradoxes.  In a world where questing is something people actually do, what is the role of those who find themselves on quest?  How do we measure heroism?  And, most importantly, how do we view ourselves against a world that would much rather shove us into tidy little boxes?  The central arc of the story is about all the characters facing those labels and, ultimately, finding they are more than that.

So if you’re going to view Helen and Troy’s Epic Road Quest as anything beyond a funny little novel, view it as an exploration of identity and how you don’t have to be a monster just because you’re born with horns and hooves, and that the true value of “orcishness” isn’t found in the color of your skin or the point in your ears, but just how willingly you will jump in front of a dragon in search of glory.

Because that’s what Helen and Troy’s Epic Road Quest is all about.

Keelah Se’lai

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Reddit AMA Request Proof

This is just a post on my official website to link back to Reddit to prove it’s me requesting an AMA.

That is all.

Bob and Meg (a very short story, working title)

Hey, Action Force.  Here’s a short story I wrote that I had nowhere else to put.  Have a look.  And if you have friends who you haven’t convinced to take a chance on one of my books, send them here for a free taste.

It’s titled Bob and Meg, though that’s only the working title.  Hope you enjoy it.

 

The knight’s noble army swept across the farm, slaying the necromancer’s undead minions with righteous efficiency. At the forefront, the army’s warrior general, clad in shining golden armor, galloped upon his powerful ebony steed. His mighty sword cut a swathe of destruction among the undead as his mount killed just as many with powerful kicks of its metal clad hooves. So swift and brutal was the attack, the minions were slain before one could raise a hand against their determined foes.

The knight’s steed rose up on its rear legs and whinnied triumphantly. The knight held his gore drenched blade high in the air and roared. His soldiers roared back.

Bob surveyed the defeated undead scattered around him. A few still twitched. A hand dragged itself by his foot, and a foot hopped around in short circles.

“Why did you do that?”

The knight dismounted and clasped Bob on the shoulder. “You’re free, my good man. Return to your lands before the final battle begins.”

“This is my land,” said Bob.

The knight laughed. “No longer. You need not till this accursed soil. For I come in the name of the rightful king to end the peril of this necromancer once and for all.”

Bob groaned.

Meg, his wife, kicked open their cottage door. She brandished a butcher knife in her hand and a harsh scowl on her face. “What the hell is this? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Good news,” said Bob without enthusiasm. “We’re free now.”

“Oh, not again.” Meg rolled her eyes. “Look, you idiot, we weren’t enslaved in the first place.”

The knight glowered. “You mean to tell me you live here by choice?”

“Choice?” Bob laughed. “We’re peasants. We don’t really have a lot of choices.”

The knight appeared genuinely confused by that sentence, and neither Meg nor Bob were surprised by that. Knights always were.

“But this land is touched by death,” he said.

The black soil was rich and easy to plow. The skies churned with ominous gray clouds more often than not, but there was always plenty of rain and just enough light to grow their crops. While it was never exceedingly warm, neither was it ever terribly cold either. They didn’t bother explaining of this because knights fed themselves via taxes, not farming.

“Who asked you to free us?” asked Meg. “What god told you we needed to be free?”

“It is your good and noble king who has charged me with this sacred task.” The knight smiled in that certain way that only true idiots could manage.

“Our good and noble king hasn’t done anything for us,” she countered. “Before that tower sat there, there was a baron’s castle. He wasn’t very much good for anything. Then he was overthrown by somebody—”

“I think it was a peasants’ revolt,” said Bob. “Or maybe some rival house.”

“Does it really matter? After the baron fell, they built a senate hall and said we were now a representative democracy. Oh, gods, was that annoying. The baron didn’t do much, but at least we didn’t have to spend all that time listening people tell us how important we were because we got to vote for whoever ignored us.”

“I still like the idea,” said Bob. “Democracy, I mean.”

“Oh, it’s a terrific idea, but the execution leaves a lot to be desired.” Meg grumbled in general and then aimed her grumble at the knight. “That didn’t last long before some liberators came around and put an end to that. Then there was a new castle. Ugly thing.”

Bob said, “Hardly seems fit to judge it, considering it was only half finished when those orcs came along.”

“Now, those were a nasty group,” said Meg. “Very rude and always trampling about. We could’ve used a little freeing then. Where were you?”

The knight explained, “This land was bequeathed to them as part of a treaty.”

“This land?” Bob stamped his foot. “This land that we live on. Where my father was born and where his father was born?”

The knight shrugged. “It was deemed necessary for the greater good.”

“Oh, well, greater good. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Meg eyed the knight for a good place in his armor to slip her knife, but before she could, Bob pulled her away.

“We’re certain you mean well—”

“I’m not certain,” said Meg.

“—but if it’s all the same to you, we like the necromancer. She stays out of our hair, and even sends down undead to help us with our work now and then, which is more than anyone else has done. Oh, I know the land smells faintly of rotting flesh, and she’ll probably do something horrible to us one day, but we’re peasants. Horrible things happening to us is to be expected. We’re just happy with things the way they are right now.”

“So get lost,” said Meg with far less subtlety. “Who needs you and your soldiers and your great black warhorse tearing up our land, slaughtering our very helpful undead workers? At least with a necromancer, we know where we stand.”

The knight nodded to himself, and for a moment, Bob and Meg thought he might have understood, but they were also not terribly surprised when he didn’t.

“You are surely bewitched by the necromancer’s presence.” He turned his steely gaze toward the corkscrew tower of gray stone just over the horizon. “When we cleanse this blight, you shall see the errors of your ways. If not, we can at least offer you a merciful execution.”

Bob said, “Very charitable of you.”

“It is the least we can do.”

The army rode off toward the tower, trampling the farm under hoof and boot while its horn player sounded the march.

“What a bunch of idiots,” said Meg.

“Do you think we should’ve told him the last four armies that tried to take that Necromancer’s tower all failed miserably?” asked Bob.

“Why bother? I know the type. He wouldn’t have listened.”

Bob nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

They retired to their cottage porch, had some tea, and watched the tower. The skies darkened above it and lightning bolts blasted. Very distantly, the clash of arms and the cries of battle reached them. The earth occasionally rumbled, and once, the howl of something unearthly rattled the dust from their cottage.

And then, silence.

“That must’ve been a good one,” said Bob.

“Indeed,” said Meg. “Doesn’t usually take the old girl that long.”

A little while later, the knight and a few of his soldiers came shambling back. The horn player tooted weakly on his instrument and the flag bearer carried the shreds of a once glorious banner. The knight trudged to the cottage and with milky white eyes and pallid flesh, he moaned miserably.

“We warned you,” said Bob.

“No, we didn’t,” said Meg.

“Well, we meant to warn him.” Bob nodded to a bucket of seeds beside the porch. “Do us a favor and help us plant the corn, would you?”

The undead knight picked up the bucket and shuffled toward the fields while Bob and Meg finished their tea.

 

Mailbag

Had a few questions in the Action Force Mailbag I thought deserved answering:

 

P.T. Dilloway asks:

The publisher of my novel A Hero’s Journey (Tales of the Scarlet Knight #1) said yesterday by the end of the year they will no longer be distributing ebooks via B&N and Smashwords anymore, only on Amazon.  Do you think this is where the publishing industry is headed?  And would you ever want your books to only be published on Amazon?

First of all, hope the free publicity helps because The Mighty Robot King knows we can all use it.

Secondly, the easiest answer is, No, I would never want my books only to be published on Amazon.  Or only anywhere else.  If I’m to have any chance of continuing to earn a living at this, I need to reach out to as many people as possible, and while distributors are always eager to have “exclusive” rights (and who can blame them?), I feel an artist is served better by diversifying his distribution rather than shrinking it.

This has always been a problem to varying degrees.  It’s the age old conflict of what is best for the creator versus what is best for the publisher, and while a lot of times those needs coincide, there are also times when they don’t.  And distributors in particular couldn’t really give a damn about creator rights (or even publisher rights).  They’re businesses that operate on business principles, and one of the most basic principles of business is to corner a market.

But as a writer, I seek expansion, not exclusion.  I want more people to buy my books, not less, and I want people who haven’t yet heard of me to get the chance to find me.  In order to pay the bills with this job, I have to sell a hell of a lot of books.  (Technically, more than I currently sell, if I can be honest.)  And a distribution choke point, even one as large and influential as Amazon, would probably work against that.

I’m not an important enough writer to warrant that kind of attitude from any distributors, but if that day ever comes, I’ll definitely be against it.

 

R.P. Dossier asks:

Considering that grimdark settings and relentlessly unhappy anti-heroes are now the norm of mainstream fiction , do you think this means that Superman and his ilk are now rebels to the popular culture? Are they the new Michael Corleones, Cool Hand Lukes and Don Drapers, opposing the cultural norm of cynical grimdark with sincerity and whatnot?

Interesting question.  I’m not sure my answer is going to be all that optimistic.

When it comes to cynicism and dark maturity, once a cultural icon starts down that road, it’s often impossible for them to come back from it.  Just taking a look at both Man of Steel and The Dark Knight Rises show that the sophisticated version of superheroes are synonymous with dark and unpleasant tales.  Superman resisted this pull for probably the longest, but with the success of Man of Steel and the current fiasco that is DC superhero comics (don’t get me started), I feel pretty positive that Superman will be killing people and moping around as part of his typical portrayal soon enough.

Batman has been struggling with this since Frank Miller decided that Bruce Wayne was little more than a crazy man in a costume, and when I think of the classic Batman stories like Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke, I see a character who is destined to eventually become little more than a grim parade of misery.  While I feel The Killing Joke is overrated (as does Moore, ironically), there’s no point in debating its importance and how Batman has been slowly and inexorably moving toward . . . well, I don’t know what exactly.  Just something a story about a guy who dresses like a bat to fight crime probably shouldn’t be.

Yet culture is a pendulum, and with some luck, eventually that pendulum will swing away from the dark side and toward a more balanced portrayal.  Heck, I’d love a few, honest-to-Robot-King triumphs of humanity to reappear (ala Pacific Rim), but at the same time, the culture has become so relentlessly maudlin that it’s a long way back.  A change in course is inevitable, but I just don’t know if it’ll happen anytime soon.

A big part of the problem is that in order to be part of “counter-culture”, you generally need to be shocking.  And Superman isn’t shocking.  Genuinely heroic characters and stories where the good guys win aren’t shocking either.  As such, we often don’t seem to register them as anything other than harmless and immature.  Man of Steel got popular culture to actually talk about Superman and what he might represent, but it only did so by having a story where Superman fails to save a lot of people and where he kills a dude.  It was only by shocking us that we even dared to consider his character and what it might mean to us as a culture.  And even then, at least half the people I talk to seem to be in the Finally, Superman stopped being a wimp camp.  So it’s not as if it shocked us into reconsidering our grimdark ways.

I’d love it if a genuinely bright and heroic character become incredibly popular for exactly those qualities, but we’re living in a world where the most popular fantasy on television features a bunch of rotten people doing rotten things to each other and where serial killers and drug dealers are characters people adore.  Hell, even Don Draper is a dinosaur of a thankfully bygone era and instead, a lot of people admire him and his philandering ways.

So, yeah, it looks like it’s a long way back, and it’s not happening anytime soon.

 

Beau Ahrens asks:

Having read your recent post about the TV show (Game of Thrones), I just have to ask, have you read the books?

Can’t say that I have.  This isn’t because I actively avoided them, but I am not and have never been an epic fantasy fan.  It’s weird to admit that, given how so much of my chosen genre is defined by epic fantasy (both classic and modern).  But I’ll just go ahead and admit that I don’t have the patience for epic fantasy.  There’s a reason I write shorter books and why all of those books are standalones.  I get bored.  I am not the kind of fan to get absorbed by the minutia of a world.  I don’t care about a lot of worldbuilding, and I’ve never found details for details sake to be especially compelling.

That’s not meant as a criticism of those who do.  It’s a big, big world, and for a lot of people, drowning in the details is what makes their fiction worthwhile.  Good for them.  It’s just not for me.  So when I see a five-hundred plus page book that is part of an epic series, featuring dozens of characters, and with special praise for its worldbuilding, I tend to move along.

I have no reason to believe that the books are bad, and I respect tremendously what George R.R. Martin has done with them.  I certainly hold nothing against them, but trying to read them would only make me bored and / or frustrated.  From what I’ve heard, the TV show is pretty close to the books anyway, and if I don’t want to spend an hour watching cruel people commit atrocities on TV, I probably don’t want to spend hours reading about it.

But perhaps my biggest pet peeve is that I just don’t like it when a writer kills a character for shock value.  I know that stands contrary to what is Game of Thrones biggest selling point, but I simply have no interest in investing in a character, only to have them unceremoniously beheaded.  I’ve never been fond of this, and I’m especially not fond of it when it becomes a trend in a series.

Maybe that makes me immature.  Maybe I’ve just lost too many important people in my life in needless ways to find any entertainment value or emotional satisfaction in it in my fiction.  Or maybe it’s just that following a character for hundreds of pages only to have them die for shock value seems like a colossal waste of my time.

We’re often looking for those elements in fiction that are missing in our own lives, and I think it’s as simple as this.  I’m convinced that our existence is mostly a random batch of events and that none of it really adds up to anything in the end.  I certainly haven’t seen anything to convince me otherwise.  But in my fiction, I like to believe that we can make a difference, that there is a place for good to triumph, and where if I take the time to get a know a character, they are worth knowing and not just being groomed to perish to shock my sensibilities.

In life, death is ugly, indiscriminate, and mostly tragic.  I’m not looking for more of that in my fiction.  Not to fault anyone who is.

Plus, I’ve never read a (fiction) book over 300 pages that has been able to hold my interest, much less an epic fantasy series.  It’s just not my thing apparently.

 

Keelah Se’lai

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee