A. Lee Martinez's Blog, page 65

Cartoon Future

January 12th, A. LEE  MARTINEZ APPRECIATION DAY!! approaches.  I know you probably don't need to be reminded of that, but I'll go ahead and mention it anyway.  If you're a true A.Leean (I'm trying to get that to catch on because, hey, it's cool to have fans who don't mind nerding out over me), then you don't need me to tell you how to traditionally celebrate this glorious day.  But for those who are new to the party, it's pretty basic:

- You play some kind of cool board or card game.  Might I recommend Sid Meyer's Civilization: the board game by Fantasy Flight Games or the always engaging Sumo Ham Slam by Gameswright.  But hey, it's your game.  Play whatever you want.  Even *shudder* Munchkin, if you are the sort who can enjoy that terrible, terrible game.  Not that I'm judging you.  I leave that to The Mighty Robot King, may he have mercy on your soul.

- You watch a monster movie.  It Came From Beneath the Sea or Godzilla: All Out Monster Attack are both excellent.  But if you prefer your monsters less city stomping, you can always go for Predator or Night of the Lepus.  You are also allowed to substitute a superhero or animated movie.  For best results, go with The Incredibles which is animated, has superheroes, and a giant robot attack for the A. LEE MARTINEZ APPRECIATION DAY!! trifecta. 

- You push my books on somebody.  Friends, family, strangers, mole people.  I don't care who.  Just spread the word, if you don't mind.  Much appreciated.

But enough about A. LEE MARTINEZ APPRECIATION DAY!!  It's time to talk about important stuff.  It's time to talk about the death of the traditional action film.

Action adventure is dead.  At least, as we might traditionally define it.  Or as I might.  And since it's my site, I get to set the terms.

In fact, I predict (perhaps prematurely and foolishly) the death of live-action adventure in a few years.  We're already halfway there.  Movies like Tron Legacy and Clash of the Titans are as much digital animation as live-action.  And while neither is a great film, they still are just part of a continuing trend.  Iron Man and Iron Man 2, both Hulk movies feature cartoons as their stars.  Well, not really.  Because live-action directors don't generally enjoy working with cartoons, so we end up with films that feature actors delivering clever lines with bits of superhero cartoons thrown in reluctantly.

It's not hard to figure out why.  Live-action directors like working with live actors.  They just aren't comfortable with cartoons.  And who can really blame them for that?  All their experience, their training, their comfort zone is built on working and relating to real living people.  And there's nothing wrong with that.  It's a great skill, and I in no way want to fault traditional acting and directing.  They are fine traditions and will continue to be so.  But they really don't serve us well in the action adventure film genre anymore. 

Some might argue that we don't want cartoons, but that's only because they aren't being honest.  There's a little film called Avatar that made a gazillion dollars at the box office, and for all its hype, for all its talk of revolution and cutting edge, Avatar is just a really, really expensive cartoon with a few live action shots spliced into it.  The bulk of the film was created on computers.  It's true that James Cameron used a lot of motion capture on the actors as sort of a crutch for him and the audience, but Avatar could've easily been done entirely via animation and it wouldn't have suffered for it.

Well, it wouldn't have made as much money.  I'll admit that.  But the days of animation as a sub-genre, as a very specific type of film, are rapidly drawing to a close.  Every year, we get more and more animated films.  Sure, they continue to pretend that they're not cartoons, but they are.  And there's great reason for that.  Animation gives us tremendous creativity in direction, especially in fantasy realms.

I was thinking this when I watched Megamind.  Why would anyone bother making a live-action superhero film?  Everything about superheroes works in animated form.  In live-action, it tends to look silly.   And while Megamind is a fun film, The Incredibles remains the greatest superhero movie ever.  Don't even bother arguing with me about that.  The Incredibles has everything a great superhero movie should have.  It has adventure, great characters, an engaging storyline, robot fights.  And the acting in the film, from voice to animation, is topnotch and more subtle than anything you'd find in any of the Spider-Man films.

It's time to admit that virtual acting is just as powerful and legitimate as the tried-and-true flesh-and-blood version we're accustomed to.  And that as we continue to wade deeper and deeper, as the line between live-action and digital become murkier and murkier, that there's really nothing live-action can do that animation can't.  Especially in terms of fantastic realms and unbelievable action.

Live-action will remain viable.  It's fine for producing most types of stories.  But if you want to do a kick-ass lightcycle race, a giant robot fight, or go to Mars, animation is the way to go.  And since animation can produce brilliant acting too, I just don't see why we can't admit this.

Naturally, there's resistance.  Most of it comes from the studios themselves, who are so accustomed to marketing via famous actors that they really aren't sure how else to get people to see a film.  So they'll make a big deal about the voice actors because that's something they can grasp.  Yet Pixar continues to shine as the preeminent animation studio and rarely, if ever, resorts to this promotional tactic.  They've proven that animation can be hugely successful without having to rely on go-to marketing ploys.

Once the studios relinquish their reliance on "movie stars" (which is still a long way off, I'll grant), as a new generation of animation directors continue to push the boundaries of digital adventure, and as animation technology continues to advance, we'll really have no choice but to move forward.  Live-action will always have a place.  It works beautifully for most stories.  But the second you throw a giant robot on the screen or have a horde of aliens or decide to blow up a planet, well, it's time to think about whether or not you're making a cartoon.  Because you probably are, and that's not a bad thing at all.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

More Than You Ever Wanted to Think about Tron

A post or two ago, I mentioned my indifference to Tron Legacy.  I ended up seeing the film anyway, mostly because there was nothing else that really struck me as worth seeing either.  Tron Legacy was everything I expected.  A lackluster film taking the skin of a previous movie and stretching it over a trite, uninspired adventure film.  But as I think about it more and more, I think a comparison between Tron and Legacy might be worth doing.  Why not, right?

Tron is an infinitely better film.  Even though its computer generated world is dated and it isn't a perfect film, it still has a lot going for it.  First of all, Tron was the film that dared to say computer animation can be used to make a fantasy film.  We take it all for granted at this stage, but at the time, this was damn revolutionary.  Tron was also one of the first mainstream films to even posit the importance of computers and how they would shape and influence our lives.  War Games came out a year earlier, which is also an interesting film for so many reasons, but we'll avoid digression.

Aside from its revolutionary ideas though, Tron is actually a surprisingly intelligent film.  Especially when you consider that the bulk of the film takes place in a computer and that, in essence, its plot hinges on programs battling for dominance in a digital fantasyland.  Yet if you study the action, you can see that everything in the original film is merely a visual representation of various interracting programs.  I don't know how accurate it is, but it certainly is well thought out on an instinctual level.

Let's begin with Tron himself.  A program designed to monitor and secure the system, he is the unwilling prisoner of Master Control.  Master Control, an artificially intelligent superprogram, has seized absolute power over the digital realm.  Unable to destroy Tron, Master Control has instead trapped him, forcing Tron to compete in endless gladatorial games.  Tron is forced to face incredible odds but is simply too powerful to be defeated.  This metaphorical struggle basically amounts to two computer programs struggling for dominance with Tron too powerful to be defeated but too weak to do anything but survive.

Eventually Tron escapes (with some help from Flynn, a "user" descended from above via a bit of technological magic).  Thus Tron begins his pilgrimage to the node where he can communicate with his own user.  This is often overlooked, but what the film has basically done is taken the simple task of receiving instructions and turned it into a holy journey, a sacred thing.  Considering that Tron is a program who remains strong and determined and "faithful" even to the users, beings he has never seen nor encountered but simply know exist somewhere, the metaphor is obvious.

When Tron gets his instructions from his user, he embarks on his final step, to face and defeat Master Control.  Master Control is the Sauron of the digital world, a program that has achieved full sentience and threatens all programs in the computer.  Charged with his new orders and a sacred weapon (his identity disc) he seeks out and wins, saving the system from its oppressive master.  In essence, he allows the computer to become a free system, to perform as it was intended to, to fulfill its grand purpose.

Okay, so this is silly if you think about it.  Aside from Flynn, the user struggling to free himself, the only thing really at stake in Tron is the functionality of a computer system.  But if you use your imagination, if you look at it the right way, Tron's journey is a fantastic adventure into destiny, faith, and purpose.  As an allegory, I think it works well.  It also helps to give the film some kind of logical framework, a foundation that makes it work.

Among Tron Legacy's biggest flaws is that it lacks this foundation.  Without it, the digital landscape seems to be an excuse to have cool people in cool costumes stand around looking cool.  But what is it all about?  There's some nonsense about "bringing order", but what does this even mean?  We hear how Flynn is some sort of prophet who wants to revolutionize everythinga about the world, both digital and physical, but we're never given any proof other than people talking about it.

In the original, programs are forced to participate in death sports in the form of video games.  This makes sense in context because its the kind of tool that we can pretend a computer might use.  It's purely metaphorical, but it works.  The movie even foreshadows the games by showing them being played at an arcade.  Yet in Legacy we're given lightcycles, tanks, and those flying space invader type things because, apparently, the virtual world is at a dead stop.  Video games haven't evolved.  The problem is that the makers of Legacy weren't inspired by video games, but by Tron.  And so we end up with a film that borrows ideas from the original without really knowing what to do with them.  Legacy plays like it was made by people who had seen a few scenes from Tron, read a synopsis, and then, with barely a grasp of what the original was about, started designing neon costumes.

Even in little ways, the film misses the point.  The identity disc is a stand-in for a program's soul.  It's a programs primary weapon and also the source of everything important about it.  When Tron communicates with his user, his disc ascends, is modified, and then returned to him.  The metaphor of a transformative soul isn't exactly subtle.  But apparently, the makers of Legacy missed the point.

So maybe I'm the only one who cares about this or who has given it this much thought.  It's just a movie, right?  And it's not as if it's a tragedy that a movie that dared so much ended up spawning a film that dares so little, that has nothing memorable or interesting going on.  As a novelologist and a person who likes to think of himself as at least a little bit creative, it's annoying, even a bit soul crushing, to watch it happen.

Which leads me to my point.  Thanks for sticking around and making it to the end, if you're still reading this.  I am changing my status on Legacy from indifferent to insulted.  I'm insulted that they completely failed to understand the original.  I'm insulted that they failed, not because they dared to emulate a great film, but because they thought it'd be cool to try and cash in.  Which is normal, I suppose, but if you're going to try to make a sequel to an obscure film, you might as well take a chance.

Or at least not make it boring.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Spectacular

I started watching Season One of Spectactular Spider-Man.  It's pretty good.  It could be great except that I could never get past certain elements of the Spider-Man character.  Mostly, it's that everyone Peter Parker knows seems to either be menaced constantly by supervillains or transform into supervillains.  It probably wasn't intentional.  It just sort of happened by accident, as writers developed his universe.  Still, it's annoying and dumb and probably the biggest weakness of the character.

But this is beside the point because, as ridiculous as I find that aspect of Spidey, it is irrelevant if I'm actually enjoying the stories.  And Spectacular Spider-Man is enjoyable.  It captures the essence of the character.  It also dares to be fun.  It isn't silliness.  Well, other than the silliness of people in funny costumes with weird powers fighting each other.  But that's innate to superheroes, who are all pretty damn stupid if taken at face value.  Superheroes are fantasy.

The thing about Spectacular is that it proves that you can create great superhero stories with maturity and intelligence and (lest we forget) fun!  You don't need sex or blood or gore.  And the notion that these elements are necessary to tell a great, intelligent story is just plain wrong.

Don't misquote me.  I'm all for sex and gore where appropriate.  Some of my novels have more of this than others, but it's not something I think a lot about.  If it belongs there, I put it in.  If it doesn't, I don't.  I don't include "mature" elements just because I'm supposed to, and I don't exclude them for fear of offending.  But I do leave them out sometimes because I find they don't really add anything.

Ultimately, the inclusion of any element doesn't really make or break a story.  Sex and gore can be implied without really losing anything.  None of my books have any real sex in them because I find nothing interesting to be written about sex.  I'm perfectly comfortable with seeing two characters embrace and cutting to the afterglow.  I did have a sex scene, of sorts, in Gil's and Monster.  Neither is particularly graphic.  And, ironically, both are written to illustrate a rather dull sort of relationship between the couples in question.

Spectacular Spider-Man has nothing much sexual, aside from an unrequited crush here and there.  But it's really about the emotions, and in that way, we see characters interact on that level.  But what about gore?

Spectacular has none of that.  There's no blood, no guts.  The violence is cartoonish, which is just fine by me.  On the other hand, when The Lizard makes his first appearance, he is portrayed as a vicious creature who would happily eat people if Spidey wasn't there to get in his way.  The threat of The Lizard is implied, but just because we aren't treated to a in-your-face view of him eviscerating little children, it doesn't make him seem less dangerous.  It's clear that without Spidey, things would quickly get messy.

This has several elements I like.  It keeps me from having to despise The Lizard, a good man who is a victim of well-intentioned science.  This is important to me as recurring villains who are unrepetent monsters just aren't fun.  A Joker who menaces Gotham but is foiled by Batman is fine by me.  A Joker who kills hundreds and yet is allowed to rampage unopposed is an exercise in hypocracy.  It also brings up the whole point of superheroes.  Superheroes save people.  They try to make the world a better place.  Superheroes who just clean up the messes, who merely punch out the bad guy after he's killed and maimed, isn't anything special.  The fantasy of the superhero is men and women of action who save the day.  Superheroes who fail to save the day regularly are just people with weird powers who fail.

In The Lizard episode of Spectacular, Peter Parker debates seriously taking an antidote that would remove his powers.  In mainstream Spidey comics, I don't see why he would hesitate.  His superpowers have only made his life harder, and they haven't helped him help those around him either.  His friends die.  His supervillains continually menace him.  He's barely a stopgap and most of his actions are meaningless.  He's worthless as a superhero.  He'd be much better off as a regular guy, free to pursue his education and career.

In the Spectacular episode though, he realizes that it was Spider-Man who kept The Lizard from becoming a monster.  It was Spidey who saved a family the grief and pain Spidey has had to suffer.  And that not only makes Spider-Man actually seem like a person with responsibility, it also makes him likable.  His life might have ups and downs, but there's a nobility in putting the needs of others before yourself.

Yet the Peter Parker on Spectacular doesn't fall into sadsack territory.  He doesn't mope that his life is tough.  He bears the weight of his responsibility with dignity and self-respect.  It's not an easy path, but he walks it because he's a good person who sees the good he can do.  This is sophisticated stuff.  This is great stuff.  This is stuff that makes me like Spider-Man.  And that's no easy feat.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Where I Publicly Announce My Indifference to Tron Legacy

I did NOT see Tron Legacy this weekend.

I didn't actively avoid it.  I just found myself supremely unmotivated.  It's a problem I discover more and more lately when it comes to this kind of thing.  Probably has something to do with this being a sequel, although you can't exactly call it a rushed thing, can you?  And I just don't care much for sequels.  Maybe it's because they always disappoint me.  Or maybe it's because, while sequels were almost always a design of marketing, they seem even more so now.

To be fair, I have no reason to suspect Tron Legacy would be bad.  From what I've heard, it's good, not great.  And that's to be expected.  The original is good, not great.  But it had the advantage of being cutting edge for its time and experimental.  The new film, while visually striking, isn't exactly new or original or even very surprising at this point.  It's another big budget spectacle, and I'm sure it's fine.  I'm sure I'd enjoy the light cycles, disk battles, and cool shout outs to a movie I really enjoy to this day.

But . . . meh.  I'm disinterested, and I'm cool with that.  Indifference isn't a bad thing.  I'm sure the movie will succeed or fail just fine without me.  My opinion, or lack of opinion, is allowable.  I'll sit this one out and let others discuss the merits and shortcomings of this particular movie.  No need to wade into the battle, one way or another.

Sometimes, it's good to have no opinion, to just walk away undecided.  I'm trusting my instincts on this one, and those instincts say I would like Tron Legacy but not love it, that I can certainly wait for it to pop up on my television and, even then, I might not care.  There is no gaping Tron-shaped hole in my soul that needs to be filled.

Tron Legacy is all yours, society.   Whatever you decide, it's all good with me.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

The Genre Pit

Most science fiction is fantasy.  Pure fantastic nonsense.  Maybe our heroes ride around in space ships or fight mutants or have amazing psychic powers, but almost all of this stuff is no more realistic or believable than elves, dragons, and magic.

One of the criticisms I've heard of Skyline, for instance, is that the premise of aliens stealing human brains to plug into monsters isn't very realistic.  Or that there's no great explanation for why our hero's brain should be special.  Or that human brains don't glow.  To this, I can only say, "What part of aliens invade via magical hypno-lights and giant lurching abominations says this movie is striving to be realistic?"  Don't misquote me.  Skyline is a flawed movie, but it's flaws are not that it isn't science fictiony enough.  Skyline is pure fantasy, and I have no problem with that.

The problem is found in our language.  Science Fiction used to be a specific brand of fiction, distinct from fantasy.  But this distinction is mostly gone now.  It doesn't exist in a easily recognized way.  I usually say I write Fantasy, which I prefer as a label because it just comes out and says, "This isn't reality.  This isn't even pretending to be reality."  Even my novel, The Automatic Detective, is a fantasy novel.  There's no hard science at work there, and it's a completely imaginary world where somehow we can have flying cars and robots, but not cell phones and personal computers.  I know nothing about robotics or artificial intelligence.  I know that a mutagenic agent cannot transform human beings into strange beings overnight, and that even if it did, it would most likely be hideous deformities that resulted in death or misery.  And none of that matters because the robots, mutants, and flying cars are all flights of fancy.  They're in the book because I like them and they fit with the fantastic setting.  But, make no mistake, they are fantasy.

Perhaps one day we'll have robots walking our streets and flying cars, but I didn't put those things in the book because I thought they were going to happen.  I put them in there because I love those things.  Also, the story actually takes place in an unspecified yesteryear (a quasi-defined moment in time ranging from 1920-1950), which means, of course, that it never actually existed.

And, if we get really down to it, all fiction is fantasy.  Maybe some genres are more grounded than others, but every story is, at its core, a manufactured experience, a lie that we willingly embrace.  Even the most high-minded Oscar-winning sob story is bald manipulation.  Heck, even most "true stories" are touched up and polished with a bit of fantasy to make them more appealing.

Maybe that's the problem.  We all have our personal lines of what we will and won't accept, and instead of realizing how arbitrary they are, we assume they're logical and infallible.  It's like superhero fans who prefer Batman to Superman because they find one more believable than the other.  Though when you break it down, neither is even remotely feasible.  It's the paradox of psychic powers, which haven't been proven to exist and which certainly have no basis in modern scientific understanding, but are still somehow more "believable" than sorcery.

To me, it's all unbelievable.  Detective fiction, tearjerkers, action-adventure, space opera, slice of life, romance, horror, you name it.  It's all a story created by humans for humans.  If it's good enough, I'll overlook anything.  If it doesn't grab me, then I'll always be able to find something I don't like about it.

The point isn't to convince anyone to change their mind about those stories they love or hate.  It's to just acknowledge that fiction is fantasy, whether it has cops and robbers, robots and mutants, or vampires and elves.  Maybe the things I write are more obviously fantastic, but they still work on the same basic principles as all fiction: characters, intrigue, peril, mystery, slime monsters, all the usual stuff.  If it succeeds, it succeeds because the reader is happy they read it.  And it it fails, it's because the reader didn't.  The illusion of genre (regardless of our appreciation or lack of it for slime monsters) shouldn't get in our way if we can help it.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Balancing Act

I've been playing a lot of World of Warcraft this weekend.  Hardly surprising since, as you may have seen from a fairly regular commercial running on the tube, the latest expansion for WoW has released and it is a doozy.  But I'm not here to talk about WoW.  At least, not WoW specifically.  Rather, I'd like to take a moment to reflect on something WoW has confirmed for me.

It's the limitations that make things worth doing, that give them value.

One of the fun things to do in WoW is the dungeons.  Dungeons, for those uninformed souls out there, are segments of the game designed for 5 players to team up, fight bad guys, and (hopefully) pick up some good rewards along the way.  The evolution of dungeons in WoW has mostly been in how you find other players to join you in the dungeon delves.  The current system is simple.  You just que up for a dungeon, carry on with whatever else you're doing in the game, and when you're matched up with a group, you can just jump right into the dungeon.  It's ridiculously easy.  Especially considering that originally doing dungeons meant trekking across the landscape to meet up at the entrance of whatever dungeon you were going to do.  This could lead to all kinds of problems, not the least of which was coordination.  And if even one of your party members was someplace far off…it was just as likely someone would decide not to wait and you'd have to start all over in your search.

But things are different now.

What's unique about Cataclysm, the latest expansion, is that you have to discover the new dungeons before you can que for them.  This means you have to do some questing and exploring, which I'm sure will annoy some players.  Personally, I love this system and hope they keep it.  Because discovering dungeons makes them special.  Players might be annoyed by it, but that's the point.  It's annoying.  It's meant to be a reward at the end of your playing experience.

You would think that Blizzard would avoid possibly annoying many of its players, and that it would be smarter to just give the players exactly what they want.  But I think that's wrong.

Giving people what they want all the time is a bad idea.  If WoW was merely an imaginary playground where players could do whatever they wanted, where any reward was within easy reach, then it would not be the game it is.  On the other hand, there's a balancing act here.  You can't ignore the audience.  But neither can you just bow down to their every outcry.

The parallel is everywhere.  Especially in entertainment media, where every successful film becomes a franchise and where series books dominate the fantasy and mystery shelves.  I don't want to say that these are always a bad thing.  Or even usually bad thing.  But the job of an artist, be they a video game designer, novelologist, or filmmaker, is to find the balance betweeng keeping the audience interested without giving them too much or not enough.  Give them everything they want, and they'll get bored.  Screw with their expectations too often, and they'll get angry.  Either can be death of whatever you're attempting to do.

This is something I think about quite often.  And it only gets harder as time goes by.  With my first few novels, I didn't have to worry about expectations.  There were few.  Gil's All Fright Diner came out with absolutely none.  Nobody had heard of me and so nobody knew what they were getting.  They might have had some ideas, but they still went in fresh, more or less.  In the Company of Ogres and A Nameless Witch both had a similar advantage, though even Witch started to bear the weight of my previous work.  When I heard The Automatic Detective called wacky and zany, I suspected that had as much to do with my previous books as anything in Detective itself.

It's not that Detective doesn't have humor.  It's just that I never intended it to be a "funny" book.  And it really isn't all that funny.  It's a little weird, a little retro, but it's not nearly as silly as some like to consider it.  Absurd?  Sure.  But isn't all fantasy?

Whenever I start a new novel, I find myself pondering where it will fit in my previous catalogue.  It's not like my books don't have similarities.  It's just I don't always know where those similarities lay.  More importantly, I don't know where other people will think those similarities lay.  I've heard the full range of comments, both good and bad, and I realize there's no escaping them.  If I write something too much like what I (or someone else wrote) then I run the risk of treading water.  If I try to do something different then I could end up annoying my audience.  Both pitfalls are unavoidable.  Especially as I continue to add books to my list.

But if I had to pick a trap to fall into, I think I'd rather fall into the one defying expectation than blindly following them.  Maybe that makes me an artist after all.  I'll leave that for others to decide.  All I know is that, so far, I'm getting paid to write and have been fortunate enough that I haven't really had to face that dilemma.  And that's only because of the fine work and support of a lot of people.  I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating.  I wouldn't be here without you, gang.

By the by, A. LEE MARTINEZ APPRECIATION DAY!! is on the way.  January 12th, as if I have to tell you.  Hope you have your monster movies and board games at the ready.  If not, you might want to get on that.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Jetpack Gorillas . . . on the Moooon!

I've had a few books optioned for films.  That's not bragging or anything since it's pretty much a random thing that happened.  A few things fell my way, one thing leads to another, and then somehow, I end up getting a few options.  It's pure chance, I think.  Just dumb luck.  Oh, sure, I'm talented and an all-around cool dude, but that and a buck won't even get me a cup of coffee.  I've worked hard to get here, but without a healthy dose of good ol' dumb luck, I'd still be some poor schlub waiting for his break.  Remembering that keeps me humble, which is no small feat considering how awesome I am.

Since I've had various books optioned for films, I've been involved, in different degrees and stages, with the possible films.  Some books I've just had optioned and left in the hands of experienced filmmakers who know a lot more about moviemaking than I do.  And some others, I've contributed a bit more.  All these experiences lead me to one inescapable conclusion.

I am so damn glad I write novels and don't make movies.

Movies are just so hard, so much more work.  They're huge projects with tons of people involved.  They have budgets, actors, directors, tons of marketing decisions, and so many other elements that it's amazing good movies get made at all.  In comparison, books are quaint, almost mom and pop productions.  It's not as if books don't require a lot of work.  Or that, by the time my books go from an idea in my head to a thing in your hands, they haven't been through an elaborate process to get them to you.  It's just not much of a process compared to making a movie.  Or even thinking about making a movie.

Yep, there's more work in the development of a film than in the entire writing of a novel, I think.  At least, one of my novels where I usually start with an idea and hash it out over the course of a few months into something sensible (or at least readable).  More work goes into the possibilty of a film than the entire production of a book.  And it's entirely possible, probable in fact, that most movies in development will never become a movie.

It boggles my mind sometimes.  I couldn't imagine doing all that work just to have nothing come of it.  And moviemakers live with that everyday.  I guess the millions of dollars that can be made from a successful film make it all worth it (and I'm just as happy as anyone to grab some of that Hollywood payday if I'm fortunate enough to have it come my way), but it's not necessarily a business I'd want to consider my primary job.

It's fun to dabble.  And the work I've done so far has been rich and rewarding.  I look forward to more of it coming my way (as long as that luck holds out), but at heart, I think I'll always be a novelologist.  Maybe I'm too much of a control freak.  Or maybe I'm just too damn lazy to work that hard and not see something come out of it.  Most probably it's because I know it's highly unlikely anyone would pay me to write a movie about space vampires vs. jetpack gorillas.

But, hey, Hollywood, if you ever need a story where a pirate primate swordfights an alien bloodsucker on the moon . . . well you know where to find me.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

My First Youtube Video (for good or ill)

Hey, did you hear?  I made a video and put it on Youtube, and now, through the wonder of technology, I'm putting it on here.  It's just me selling my book and introducing myself, so if you're a regular visitor to this site, it's probably not something you need to rush to watch.  But hey, here it is if you have some time to kill.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dgt4xzkpmI4

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

The Annual Humbug Report

Have I mentioned I don't like Christmas?  Because I don't.  And it's not because I'm against peace on Earth, goodwill toward my fellow Terrans, or even a little bit of healthy capitalism.  I'm not religious, so it doesn't do much for me in that way, but I don't care if other people want to celebrate the birth of their savior by killing a tree and throwing gift cards at each other.  And if we want to live our life according to a schedule set down by ancient tradition, I guess I don't see the harm in being the meat puppets of the dead.

I think this is coming out wrong.

I don't hate Christmas, although I do hate certain elements of it.  I hate the billion and one versions of A Christmas Carol we have to put up with, every single year.  I hate the music.  It's sappy and sentimental and just oh so repetative.  I hate that I have to give up a month of my life, every year, to commercials with Santa Claus selling everything from radios to dishwashing detergent.  And I hate watching people run around, putting so much damn pressure on themselves.

Okay.  Strike two.  Let's give it one more shot.

There are good things about Christmas.  Unfortunately, for me, all those good things seem to stem from children.  Christmas is like the circus for me.  I could go my whole life without ever seeing another circus.  But when you go to a circus with a child, it's all fun and new and exciting.  It's wondrous.  And that's something I can get behind.  I'm sure when I have children myself, Christmas will be cool.  But for adults…I just don't get it.

Well, I get the time off aspect.  It's always nice to get some time off from work, but as a professional novelologist, I set my own hours.  Which is very convenenient and tends to lessen the importance of holidays.  I highly recommend it, if you ever get the chance to do the same.

Maybe it's just programming.  When we're young, Christmas is something to look forward to (if we're lucky), and we end up carrying that feeling with us into our adult lives.  But it seems ridiculous for adults to do this.  Why buy each other gifts when we'll probably just end up buying the wrong thing?  I'm not against gift giving.  I'm just against the notion that someone decided that we have to give gifts to each other at a predesignated point in time and if we don't, then we're not in "the spirit of the season".

I just don't like Christmas, and I reject the notion that it makes me a Scrooge to say that.  It doesn't make me heartless or cruel to say that Christmas is annoying.  And that it only gets more annoying as it spreads itself across the calender like some amorphous, glutunous blob-monster.  I could handle it when it was a month.  But now Christmas seems to start before Halloween, and this, I refuse to accept.  Maybe when Christmas gets back to after Thanksgiving, where it belongs, I'll be more forgiving.  But as long as 1/6th of my year has to be swallowed up by the dreaded holiday season, I can only say what needs to be said as the last sane man.

Humbug!

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee 

Friday Musings

It's Follow Friday on Twitter, and I like to post a little something to take advantage of the possible extra traffic heading this way.  Don't have anything big in mind today, but I'm sure I can think of something interesting to say.

Just signed a couple of contracts:  one for my current project, another for audio books, and another for a movie option.  It's both incredibly cool and incredibly weird.  It's safe to say I'm doing far better as a novelologist than I ever expected to do.  I'm still mid-list at best (and probably not even that), but this is a tough business.  A lot of people want to do this.  So many that it strikes me as absurd that I get paid to do it.  But I do.  And thanks to everyone, big and small, who makes that possible.

So I play World of Warcraft.  I play it too much.  But I really like the game (and of course I'm not alone).  Currently, I'm working on a Tauren Paladin, but I hop around.  I'm in a solid guild now, full of cool people, and we've even taken to some raiding, which is pretty cool since I've never really done that before.

One of the things I love about WoW is the people.  It's pure science fiction that I can log onto my computer and play a game with people across the world.  People I would never meet in real life or if I did meet them, I'd have nothing in common with.  But in this virtual realm, in this land of digital adventure, I've discovered a meeting place for friends and acquantainces I'd have never known.  Oh, sure, they're not real friends in that they can't help me move and I don't know much about their real lives.  But I do know I can count on them to help me kill giant dragons and dare Ice Crown Citadel.  And that's gotta count for something, right?

I also play a lot of tabletop games, and recently, I acquired one I'd like to recommend.  Sid Meyer's Civilization: The Board Game by Fantasy Flight Games is great fun.  Almost beat for beat, an adaptation of the computer game, it still manages to be accessible and easy to play.  I wouldn't really call it a civilization building game because your nation will only have 3 cities at the most and it's entirely possible to have railroads and not horseback riding.  But as a game allowing you to experience the journey of nation via broad strokes, it's fantastic.  Highly recommended.

Finally, let's go ahead and talk about writing because that's what I do and this allows me to pretend like I'm an authority.

I'm sure someone has said this already and much better than I, but storytelling revolves around emotion.  That's what's makes or breaks every story.  It's not about great sentences or poetic expression.  Those things help, but ultimately, if you can instill an emotion in your audience, then you've succeeded.

I love Edgar Rice Burroughs novels, yet most of them are stilted, written in a dated style.  It doesn't matter to me though because I have a visceral connection with most of his worlds and characters.  I love Tarzan because I can relate to his outsider's perspective.  More importantly, it allows me to see the world from a whole new angle.  It's not just that I can relate to Tarzan, but that he allows me to experience things I never will.  His reactions, his character, make those situations tangible.  They open new windows.

When Tarzan's ape mother was killed by natives, I felt Tarzan's pain.  And when Tarzan discovered civilization, I experienced his confusion.  And when he strangled a Russian villain to death for daring to threaten Tarzan's family, I felt his rage and power.  And while I, as a civilized human being, never imagine myself strangling anyone (and hope to The Mighty Robot King that it never comes up in real life) I can relate to Tarzan and his way of viewing the world because the stories make a boy raised by apes and make him real somehow.  Believable?  Not for a minute.  But still somehow someone who I know.

I watched Tangled this weekend, and it was really very good.  Very, very good.  And I think I liked it so much because it struck all the right emotional notes.  Even the songs are built around universal dreams and desires, whether it's Rapunzel singing about waiting for her life to begin, having a dream, or falling in love.  These notions are so basic that almost all of us can understand them.

The funny thing is that I don't know if a good story needs to be founded on emotional relatability or if emotional relatability can be relied to happen on with good writing.  It's almost as if it needs to happen as a byproduct, that if a writer tries too hard to invest his story with emotion that it'll just come across as forced and obnoxious.  Not always, of course.  And even as individuals we have different assessments of what works or doesn't.  Still, I've always felt that worrying too much about theme or emotion before writing is putting the cart before the horse.  Maybe it's just the way I write, but I like to discover the emtional resonance of what I'm writing while I'm writing it.  It always seems to end up the stronger for it.

It brings up an interesting question (to me at least).  Is it necessary to study story structure, theme, and other such writerly pursuits to write a good story?  I can see why it could be helpful, but at the same time, it seems the more a writer obsesses over these things, the less natural they can become.  Or not.  I don't have the answers, and I can't even pretend that I do.  I could write the greatest novel of all time, and it still wouldn't mean I knew why it was the greatest.

Except maybe that it will most likely have a slime monster in it.  And probably a giant robot fight.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee