I really need to post here more often, but the truth is I'm usually so busy writing, I don't find a lot of time to write about writing. In an effort to keep everyone up to speed on what I'm doing, I'll give a brief rundown of what's been going on.
Earlier this year, there was some serious interest in a pilot script I wrote called "Luminaries," an all-original, American mash up of two of my most beloved genres: Sentai and Teen Drama. The producer in question, the vice-president of a notable company out in L.A., really liked it and wanted to pitch it to a few networks, including SyFy, which would be my first choice, personally. I wrote up a treatment, we even got an artist on board to do some concept art for the pitch. Everything was going along swimmingly, and then...
The president of the company vetoed it. Suffice it to say, I was not happy.
After this, I returned to my prose efforts, where I'm focusing most of my energy these days. My main project, or my "alpha" as I like to call it, I have discussed here before: The Crossroads Chronicles, a pentalogy about a fictional utopian society on the bank of the Delaware and the dark dystopian underbelly its facade hides.
I also have an idea for a fantasy trilogy, The Zodiac Cycle, which is still in its infancy. Not even its infancy, really; more like its gestation. Despite having had a major breakthrough on the series' mythology and internal history, that one's not going to be ready for a while.
Today, I'm going to talk about my "beta" project, a novel that I'm still working on a title for. As I was working on the first book of The Crossroads Chronicles, I realized that it was going to take me a lot longer than I'd anticipated. I thought perhaps I should find a simpler story, something simpler and shorter that I could publish sooner. I thought a lot about it, but -- as anyone who's read my introductory post knows -- I'm kind of prone toward epics, big sweeping stories about diverse casts of characters. I don't really do simple. Not often.
So, I asked myself what really resonated with me? What was something simple, something undiluted, something powerful that I wanted to express? I don't really go into my personal life on here too much, and I intend to keep things that way, but suffice it to say I went through an incredibly painful and traumatic break-up in early 2010. The thing is, it wasn't a clean break. The trauma was subtle and insidious, and I didn't recognize it until long after the damage had been done. Once I did, it was like the breaking of a spell. I could finally see things with some perspective, and it was that very perspective that allowed me to move on. And while that story is very interesting to me, I'm not convinced many people would really care about it. It's not groundbreaking bestseller material is all I'm saying. It needed something else.
Coincidentally, at that very time, my finances were pretty much in the shitter. They're still in the shitter. I was unemployed and running out of money at every turn. Things got pretty desperate, and more than once, I joked with my friends "I am this close to turning tricks just to make ends meet." And then one day, I realized that that would be a great story, the perfect way to frame my tale of the re-assessment of a young guy's self worth. So, I married the two ideas, and thus have my beta.
This untitled project is about a guy whose life is pulled out from under him and turns to online-solicited prostitution to make ends meet. The thing is, he isn't some gritty, urbane hustler. He's not tragic and sexy or some kind of meth addict. He's just a guy with a lot of debts and a very utile history of promiscuity, who finally finds a way to profit off something he's good at. What, on the surface, appears to be merely a funny, strange story about a broke twenty-something going to extremes to get over a broken heart and an empty wallet reveals itself to really be a story about being loved and desired and how we measure our own sense of self-worth.
However, this could easily fall into the trap of endorsing certain cliches and beliefs to which I don't happen to subscribe, so there were a couple of guidelines I set for myself.
1) While this is a story about realizing what you're worth, it is not about how being promiscuous devalues someone. I think that idea is bullshit, and I will not have any characters of mine paying horrible, moralistic, karmic debts for their sexuality. The hero doesn't flee to the safety and "sanity" of monogamy after some dark adventure through the underworld. He starts the story a slut and he ends it a slut, and for a while in the middle, he profits off his libido. That's it. And while his brief career in prostitution does raise certain questions for him, it's neither the source nor the symptom of his problems. It is merely a mirror he holds up to his life that enables him to see a few things lurking over his shoulder. Piggybacking off of this point...
2) This is a story about insight and growth. It's about the emotional consequences (good and bad) of the hero's actions. For me to dwell on the legal consequences or hold that tension over the reader's head would be a distraction that serves no purpose. So, right on page 1, the narrator tells the reader straight up that he never got arrested, never got raped, and never got infected with anything. The reader learns right from the get-go that those kinds of consequences are not what this story is about, and to dwell on them would be missing the point.
3) That the hero's appraisal of his own worth would not come from the acquisition of a new boyfriend. I'm not saying he doesn't get one. I'm not saying he does. Regardless, it could not and would not be where his revelation comes from. It has to come from within. He needs to be the one validating himself, not feeding off the validation of someone else.
Once these guidelines were set in place, I had my story, and I got to work. And I have to say, I'm having a lot of fun writing it. For someone who tends to go epic with intricate, multi-layered plots, having one simple, heartfelt story with some tasty subtext is a welcome change of pace. The story is moving along very quickly, and it's quite refreshing to have a project that's so uncomplicated, which is not to say it's simplistic; just simple.
I have one protagonist, two supporting characters, one antagonist, and one major love interest. Liberating does not even begin to cover it. I'm also writing in the first person, which is something new for me. I'm so used to having that third-person perspective, always one step removed from a character's thoughts to the reader's experience, but this time... no filter. It's just coming from the character directly to the reader. It's very exciting and a bit scary, as it's a new approach for me, but I'm riding it out to see where it takes me. It's actually leaving me a little raw and vulnerable as I write, which I think will ultimately give the piece a flavor it wouldn't otherwise have.
So, all in all, things are looking good. I'll let you guys know when I have a title. Until then, I'll just keep plugging.
Oh, and for those of you wondering if I plan on being so bitter and petty as to eviscerate my ex-boyfriend in fiction for the purpose of exorcising the last of my demons, please let me assure you that yes... yes, I do.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
The Zodiac Cycle
I've always been into astrology. I don't think the horoscopes in the Times are worth the paper they're printed on, but I've known too many hornball Scorpios, meticulous Virgos, and delusional Pisces to think there's nothing to it. It's a hobby, and I'm not fluent in the mythos, but I have a better working understanding than most. This is precisely why it drives me fucking crazy when nobody in fiction gets it right.
Usually, outside of his or her own sign, writers don't know jack about astrology, and yet insist on using it for a witty one-liner, a one-dimensional character quirk, or even a plot point. And they do it wrong almost every time. I remember several years back there was a short-lived comic series I read of, hyped in Wizard magazine. Reign of the Zodiac was about a world where twelve peoples, each for one sign of the Zodiac, were in the midst of political strife. When it seemed the writers were adopting the elemental aspects of the signs and using them as a plot point, I was intrigued and hopeful.
Then I read the first issue. "Steaming pile of crap" doesn't even begin to cover it.
In addition to being poorly written, they got the cultures all wrong. I mean ALL WRONG. Virgo, the sign of pragmatism, analysis, and order being represented by a shallow, foppish, decadent prince (and not in an intentionally ironic way) was just wrong. I couldn't even make it to Issue #2. Well, that had been disappointing. I vowed then and there that one day I'd write a Zodiac-themed story, and I'd get it right! And then I pretty much immediately forgot about it.
A few years later, I caught Ronald D. Moore's Battlestar Galactica, one major element of which was the Twelve Colonies of Man, Aerilon, Tauron, Gemenon, etc. I thought, "Okay, interesting. Oh, hey, Caprica is the seat of government and politics. That's actually pretty right on. Maybe there's hope." Then Gemenon became the world of religious fundamentalism (should've been Picon), Aerilon was known as a primarily agricultural world (should've been Virgon), and Sagittaron? Thinly veiled Christian Scientists (I have no idea). There was some minor improvement in The Plan, where Libran was noted for its court system, but for the most part it was clear the writers really hadn't given it much thought. And even when this was amended later (apparently, an elaborate document on the characteristics, cultures, and economies of the Twelve Colonies was written between BSG and Caprica), I highly doubted it was based on any kind of astrological lore.
This awoke the fire in me anew, but what to do? I had no idea. I mean, building a fantasy world from scratch... that's a tall order. And I didn't even have a story or characters to work with, much less a medium. That was a recipe for disaster. So, I thought, "You know what? Fuck it. Build the world. Build the world and the cultures in it with as much thematic accuracy as possible and let that world tell you what the story is.
So I got to work.
For nearly a year, I'd been devising geographical domains, ethnic and cultural templates, economies and religions for these twelve zodiac tribes. I took into account each sign's archetypical traits, its elemental designation, and behavioral quality. For instance, Aries is the cardinal fire sign. Active fire made me think volcanoes. This combined with the Arian tendencies toward rough edges and confrontation made me think of the Vikings, so their environment would be akin to Iceland, a subtropical volcanic terrain. And from there, I began to further develop the culture. And then onto the others.
And then slowly, quietly, a plot began to form. As it did, a structure came and I realized I was looking at a novel. And then I realized I was looking at three. Now, I don't subscribe to this fad nowadays that states everything cool needs to be a trilogy. Stand-alones are fantastic, but 1) The trilogy structure works well for a reason; 2) I've always been an epic kind of guy. My stories do indeed grow in the telling, sometimes even just the dreaming; and 3) it was just. too. perfect.
I decided to call the trilogy The Zodiac Cycle. It's simple, descriptive, got some nice word play going on there. Each volume would be split into four sections or books, each of those representing one of the signs of the zodiac, going through it in sequence, starting with Aries, ending with Pisces. Each sign's book would feature that culture in a prominent role, but wouldn't exclude the others. That way it would keep things from getting too predictable. Just because Leo wouldn't come until the beginning of Volume Two doesn't mean we won't hear about or even see them in Volume I, and other cultures could play important roles in the Leo segment, but Leo will prove in that book to be the most important. In the beginning of it? In the end? Who knows? So...
VOLUME ONE covers Aries to Cancer.
VOLUME TWO covers Leo to Scorpio, putting the sign of intrigue and mystery right at the end of the second installment. Nice!
And VOLUME THREE covers Sagittarius to Pisces.
I'm not going to give away what the myth arc is really all about, but I can say that as we're starting in Aries, the protagonist is a young Arian man of about twenty, and the story follows his journey though the world. Aries being the sign of energy, initiative, and impulsivity, it seemed a great place to start with a character, giving him a lot of room to grow from his enlightenment and increasing worldliness.
I am more and more excited about The Zodiac Cycle every day, and I can't wait for even more elements to take shape. Without giving too much away, here's a basic idea of what can be found in Volume One: Rising Signs.
In the first "book," Aries, we are introduced to our protagonist, Aerik, who is neither the classic hero nor the bad-ass rogue. He is simply a man of his culture, which will be admirable, repugnant, or both, depending on the personal values of the reader. In his efforts to find his friends, several of whom were serving aboard a ship that's mysteriously gone missing, Aerik comes across Sianna, a common Scorpian girl far from her homeland, on the run from a strange and relentless cult hell-bent on her abduction. Sianna doesn't know what they want with her and has no intention of getting close enough to them to ask. Overburdened with troubles of his own, Aerik is content to leave Sianna to her fate until he realizes that not only is she a useful traveling companion, but she just might be the key to discovering where his friends are... assuming they're still alive. In the process, they'll pick up lots of hints and clues that, while irrelevant to their initial goals, will awaken them to an impending conflict that will change the word as they know it forever.
No, they do not fall in love. Ever. Did you really think I was going to be that pedestrian?
More to come as I have it.
Usually, outside of his or her own sign, writers don't know jack about astrology, and yet insist on using it for a witty one-liner, a one-dimensional character quirk, or even a plot point. And they do it wrong almost every time. I remember several years back there was a short-lived comic series I read of, hyped in Wizard magazine. Reign of the Zodiac was about a world where twelve peoples, each for one sign of the Zodiac, were in the midst of political strife. When it seemed the writers were adopting the elemental aspects of the signs and using them as a plot point, I was intrigued and hopeful.
Then I read the first issue. "Steaming pile of crap" doesn't even begin to cover it.
In addition to being poorly written, they got the cultures all wrong. I mean ALL WRONG. Virgo, the sign of pragmatism, analysis, and order being represented by a shallow, foppish, decadent prince (and not in an intentionally ironic way) was just wrong. I couldn't even make it to Issue #2. Well, that had been disappointing. I vowed then and there that one day I'd write a Zodiac-themed story, and I'd get it right! And then I pretty much immediately forgot about it.
A few years later, I caught Ronald D. Moore's Battlestar Galactica, one major element of which was the Twelve Colonies of Man, Aerilon, Tauron, Gemenon, etc. I thought, "Okay, interesting. Oh, hey, Caprica is the seat of government and politics. That's actually pretty right on. Maybe there's hope." Then Gemenon became the world of religious fundamentalism (should've been Picon), Aerilon was known as a primarily agricultural world (should've been Virgon), and Sagittaron? Thinly veiled Christian Scientists (I have no idea). There was some minor improvement in The Plan, where Libran was noted for its court system, but for the most part it was clear the writers really hadn't given it much thought. And even when this was amended later (apparently, an elaborate document on the characteristics, cultures, and economies of the Twelve Colonies was written between BSG and Caprica), I highly doubted it was based on any kind of astrological lore.
This awoke the fire in me anew, but what to do? I had no idea. I mean, building a fantasy world from scratch... that's a tall order. And I didn't even have a story or characters to work with, much less a medium. That was a recipe for disaster. So, I thought, "You know what? Fuck it. Build the world. Build the world and the cultures in it with as much thematic accuracy as possible and let that world tell you what the story is.
So I got to work.
For nearly a year, I'd been devising geographical domains, ethnic and cultural templates, economies and religions for these twelve zodiac tribes. I took into account each sign's archetypical traits, its elemental designation, and behavioral quality. For instance, Aries is the cardinal fire sign. Active fire made me think volcanoes. This combined with the Arian tendencies toward rough edges and confrontation made me think of the Vikings, so their environment would be akin to Iceland, a subtropical volcanic terrain. And from there, I began to further develop the culture. And then onto the others.
And then slowly, quietly, a plot began to form. As it did, a structure came and I realized I was looking at a novel. And then I realized I was looking at three. Now, I don't subscribe to this fad nowadays that states everything cool needs to be a trilogy. Stand-alones are fantastic, but 1) The trilogy structure works well for a reason; 2) I've always been an epic kind of guy. My stories do indeed grow in the telling, sometimes even just the dreaming; and 3) it was just. too. perfect.
I decided to call the trilogy The Zodiac Cycle. It's simple, descriptive, got some nice word play going on there. Each volume would be split into four sections or books, each of those representing one of the signs of the zodiac, going through it in sequence, starting with Aries, ending with Pisces. Each sign's book would feature that culture in a prominent role, but wouldn't exclude the others. That way it would keep things from getting too predictable. Just because Leo wouldn't come until the beginning of Volume Two doesn't mean we won't hear about or even see them in Volume I, and other cultures could play important roles in the Leo segment, but Leo will prove in that book to be the most important. In the beginning of it? In the end? Who knows? So...
VOLUME ONE covers Aries to Cancer.
VOLUME TWO covers Leo to Scorpio, putting the sign of intrigue and mystery right at the end of the second installment. Nice!
And VOLUME THREE covers Sagittarius to Pisces.
I'm not going to give away what the myth arc is really all about, but I can say that as we're starting in Aries, the protagonist is a young Arian man of about twenty, and the story follows his journey though the world. Aries being the sign of energy, initiative, and impulsivity, it seemed a great place to start with a character, giving him a lot of room to grow from his enlightenment and increasing worldliness.
I am more and more excited about The Zodiac Cycle every day, and I can't wait for even more elements to take shape. Without giving too much away, here's a basic idea of what can be found in Volume One: Rising Signs.
In the first "book," Aries, we are introduced to our protagonist, Aerik, who is neither the classic hero nor the bad-ass rogue. He is simply a man of his culture, which will be admirable, repugnant, or both, depending on the personal values of the reader. In his efforts to find his friends, several of whom were serving aboard a ship that's mysteriously gone missing, Aerik comes across Sianna, a common Scorpian girl far from her homeland, on the run from a strange and relentless cult hell-bent on her abduction. Sianna doesn't know what they want with her and has no intention of getting close enough to them to ask. Overburdened with troubles of his own, Aerik is content to leave Sianna to her fate until he realizes that not only is she a useful traveling companion, but she just might be the key to discovering where his friends are... assuming they're still alive. In the process, they'll pick up lots of hints and clues that, while irrelevant to their initial goals, will awaken them to an impending conflict that will change the word as they know it forever.
No, they do not fall in love. Ever. Did you really think I was going to be that pedestrian?
More to come as I have it.
Sibling Rivalry
I have been very busy these last few months. Very, very, very busy. After about a two-month detour from writing my first novel, time spent prepping the pilot script and pitch materials for an opportunity that fell through at the last minute, I'm now back in a prose groove. It took some doing, but I'm here.
My novel, the first book in a planned pentalogy, is a labor of love. When people ask me how long I've been working on it, it's a difficult question to answer. Perhaps because there are several answers. Any writer can tell you that projects shift and change, stories grow in the telling, as Tolkien once said. So, how long have I been working on it?
I came up with the original idea for The Crossroads Chronicles, then a TV series called Crossroads, early in my senior year of high school, in late 1997.
I came up with the greater idea, of which the original idea was merely one element, about a year later.
I wrote the pilot script shortly thereafter.
I wrote several revisions and completely different scripts over the next few years.
I realized the story would be better served in prose than as a TV series, and made the decision to convert everything over in 2007, nearly a decade after I'd had the initial idea. I wrote the first three or four chapters when I realized that I was having far too much trouble, and that it was time to do what I'd been putting off for a long, long time: writing the backstory. Three years later, I was done. Trust me, it's very elaborate.
This past winter, I sat down and got back to writing the actual narrative. After some fooling with format and structure, I found my groove. I'm now back in the swing. It's coming along great, and I'm extremely excited.
Here's the funny:
I have another prose project, a story I've wanted to tackle for a while, one that I've only recently decided should be prose. Unlike The Crossroads Chronicles, which takes place here in the world we know, this project is a fantasy epic, which meant building the world from scratch. As one might imagine, that's a LOT of work. It was only a year ago that I finally took that idea, the vaguest of concepts, and actually started working out a story. As of today, I have developed that world significantly. I've got miles to go, but it's a solid start. I also have the basic story in mind, though the details are still very vague. I have a flawed, compelling protagonist, three supporting protagonists, one minor character of ambiguous alignment, and an antagonist group, if not specific antagonist characters yet.
Most people would think that this is a sign that the latter project is better. After all, it's coming together so easily and with such strength that it must be a stronger idea, certainly more so than The Crossroads Chronicles, which has been evolving slowly over nearly fifteen years. Most people would think so.
Most people aren't writers.
The thing is, stories are like kids: they're different and grow at different speeds in different directions. They require different amounts of attention, different types of nurturing, different levels of patience, and different degrees of analysis.
The Crossroads Chronicles is close to my heart. It's a story with characters I love and a message -- more than one, actually -- that I deeply believe in. And it's taking its time. And that's okay. It will mature and come of age on its own schedule, not mine. I've tried to force the hand of evolution. It never works. This new story, it's flowing nicely. I won't be starting on the narrative any time soon, probably not for a year or two at least, and I'm not worried about it.
Things will ebb and flow, and you have to let them. There's something to be said for discipline, for just sitting down and pushing through a problem or a block, but you can't run a current through a burnt out circuit. More and more, I've found my greatest strength in my craft is trusting in my instincts, the things that can't be taught, my writer's intuition, if you will.
I don't treat these projects equally. Like a good parent, I give each of my kids what they need (if not what they want) when they need it. And we're all of us doing just fine.
For details on this new project, see my next post.
My novel, the first book in a planned pentalogy, is a labor of love. When people ask me how long I've been working on it, it's a difficult question to answer. Perhaps because there are several answers. Any writer can tell you that projects shift and change, stories grow in the telling, as Tolkien once said. So, how long have I been working on it?
I came up with the original idea for The Crossroads Chronicles, then a TV series called Crossroads, early in my senior year of high school, in late 1997.
I came up with the greater idea, of which the original idea was merely one element, about a year later.
I wrote the pilot script shortly thereafter.
I wrote several revisions and completely different scripts over the next few years.
I realized the story would be better served in prose than as a TV series, and made the decision to convert everything over in 2007, nearly a decade after I'd had the initial idea. I wrote the first three or four chapters when I realized that I was having far too much trouble, and that it was time to do what I'd been putting off for a long, long time: writing the backstory. Three years later, I was done. Trust me, it's very elaborate.
This past winter, I sat down and got back to writing the actual narrative. After some fooling with format and structure, I found my groove. I'm now back in the swing. It's coming along great, and I'm extremely excited.
Here's the funny:
I have another prose project, a story I've wanted to tackle for a while, one that I've only recently decided should be prose. Unlike The Crossroads Chronicles, which takes place here in the world we know, this project is a fantasy epic, which meant building the world from scratch. As one might imagine, that's a LOT of work. It was only a year ago that I finally took that idea, the vaguest of concepts, and actually started working out a story. As of today, I have developed that world significantly. I've got miles to go, but it's a solid start. I also have the basic story in mind, though the details are still very vague. I have a flawed, compelling protagonist, three supporting protagonists, one minor character of ambiguous alignment, and an antagonist group, if not specific antagonist characters yet.
Most people would think that this is a sign that the latter project is better. After all, it's coming together so easily and with such strength that it must be a stronger idea, certainly more so than The Crossroads Chronicles, which has been evolving slowly over nearly fifteen years. Most people would think so.
Most people aren't writers.
The thing is, stories are like kids: they're different and grow at different speeds in different directions. They require different amounts of attention, different types of nurturing, different levels of patience, and different degrees of analysis.
The Crossroads Chronicles is close to my heart. It's a story with characters I love and a message -- more than one, actually -- that I deeply believe in. And it's taking its time. And that's okay. It will mature and come of age on its own schedule, not mine. I've tried to force the hand of evolution. It never works. This new story, it's flowing nicely. I won't be starting on the narrative any time soon, probably not for a year or two at least, and I'm not worried about it.
Things will ebb and flow, and you have to let them. There's something to be said for discipline, for just sitting down and pushing through a problem or a block, but you can't run a current through a burnt out circuit. More and more, I've found my greatest strength in my craft is trusting in my instincts, the things that can't be taught, my writer's intuition, if you will.
I don't treat these projects equally. Like a good parent, I give each of my kids what they need (if not what they want) when they need it. And we're all of us doing just fine.
For details on this new project, see my next post.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
For Mature Audiences Only
I watched the premiere of Game of Thrones on Sunday Night. I have to say, it was excellent, incredibly well done, and the hype was totally deserved. However, I did have one nitpick. Well, two really, but they actually tie in together. For those who don't want spoilers on the pilot, read no further.
So, the show so far is incredibly faithful to the book. There were a couple of changes, but nothing I really minded, except for one really big thing. When Daenerys Targaryen makes love to Khal Drogo on their wedding night, she is believably terrified. This was also in the book. However, unlike in the book, he takes her forcefully and it's clear that, while she's not resisting, she is not happy about this. And the scene ends there. That's the end of her storyline for the pilot. This was not okay with me, for a very major reason.
In the book, Daenerys is terrified, nervous as hell. She knows she has to do this; as his bride, it's expected of her on their wedding night. However, he totally rocks the foreplay. He touches her, runs his hand along her shoulders and back and breasts, totally lubes her up, awakening her to all this sensation she's never even dreamed about. Then, after doing this for a while, he asks her "No?" This seems to be the only word he knows in her language, and for the first time it's a question. Her reply is "Yes." And then she takes his hand and draws it south for him to finger her.
Now, I have like zero investment in watching straight sex in and of itself, but this scene was so well written in the book that I wanted to be a terrified virgin bride. The real thing about this scene that's so powerful, though, is that it's the moment that Daenerys begins to become a woman. Not that sex makes you an adult -- actually, more on that point later -- but her awareness of her body and the ownership of it that she takes, owning her part in the pleasure and guiding Drogo's hand, it was the first beat in a storyline that would continue in a later scene where she dictates their position during sex. And he goes with it! It is after this moment that she starts to act more self-possessed and active. It is this moment that starts her arc, setting her feet down the path that will lead her to standing up to her brother Viserys, who up until this point in her life called all the shots and made everything about him, even going so far as to arrange her marriage (for his own political gain) in the first place. It's a huge moment that is, given the context, incredibly feminist and empowering. The girl steps toward a man of her own volition, initiates herself to sexuality on her own terms, and becomes a young woman.
But HBO just had her all but raped. Why? Because it makes the scene grittier? More fucked up and shocking? Really, HBO? Really?
And this was the other problem I had with the show. George R. R. Martin does not shy away from violence and sexuality in his book. The story is full of it: greed, murder, adultery, incest, intrigue, whores... it's all about corruption and sin, and it's great! But Martin uses it where he needs to use it, and not sparingly. There were certain scenes in the pilot that I do not remember from the book. Granted, I'm not done with it yet, but even if those scenes occur later, why put them there? Was there not enough sex up front? I couldn't help but feel that HBO amped up the sex just to amp up the sex.
As if there wasn't enough of it already.
Don't get me wrong, the cast is brilliant and every single scene was magnificently acted. The debauchery at the Dothraki wedding, I was all for that, and there was some additional nudity I was totally fine with. But there were certain scenes, some with sex, some without, where you could have swapped out every single line with "This isn't Lord of the Rings" and the scene would still make perfect sense.
We come to what I've dubbed "HBO Syndrome."
HBO, and later Showtime (and eventually some basic cable channels), have sort of become the new bastions of quality television, shows that are fresh, original, smartly-written, and uncensored. These are not shows that have to think of the children. These are shows intended for reasonably intelligent, usually at least partially educated adults who want to see quality material. So, to prove it, to prove just how not for kids they are, these shows will often push the envelope, not to make a point, not because it needs to be pushed, just to prove how hardcore they are. It's the same reason almost every other student in my first-year film class tried to make a horribly pretentious angst fest that ended with someone either killing him/herself or contemplating it. I made a romantic comedy about how expectations tend to get in the way of happiness, but that's neither here nor there.
I call this problem,which so many writers, directors, and producers seem to suffer from, "The Rule of Fucked Up."
The Rule of Fucked Up states that everything, even dramatic satisfaction, takes a backseat to doing the most fucked up thing possible, the less predictable, the better. Some might call that edgy. I call it cheap entertainment. No nutritional value. It's not that I'm against shock value. That phrase contains the words value and for good reason. However, there's a big difference between a shock that has weight and a shock that does more harm than good. It has to be more than the narrative equivalent of "Ha! Made you look!" And it's usually not. HBO Syndrome has countless shows following The Rule of Fucked Up (though FX's Nip/Tuck is probably the worst offender in this regard).
"Let's have the main character be an adulterer or be otherwise horrible to someone for no reason. You know, just to prove how flawed/bad-ass/cool he is."
"Let's do something horribly politically incorrect, relevant to neither the plot nor the characters, so that our audience knows we won't be cowed by anyone! Let's be offensive just to prove we're not pussies!"
"Look, Ma! Boobies! Cursing! Sex! You can't ground me anymore! I make the rules now!"
Everyone reading this knows what I'm talking about, and if you don't, why are you reading my blog? And I think this really illuminates my problem with a lot of stuff. I am no prude. I am no goody two-shoes. My characters swear and have sex all the time. I don't flinch from it, I don't even try to side-step it, but I don't do it just to do it or to prove some kind of juvenile point. This, to me, expresses the entire conflict at hand here: the difference between mature content and Mature Content.
See, mature content is content that requires a certain degree of social, psychological, and emotional maturity to digest and appreciate, as opposed to Mature Content, which is basically just, you know, anything that makes thirteen-year-old boys go "Oh, snap!"
mature content... a sex scene. Beautiful or dark or even funny and frivolous, but important in some regard.
Mature Content... a gratuitous sex scene. Don't even try to defend it. We all know why you put it there.
See, few people want their kids to be exposed to graphic depictions of sexuality (if they're comfortable with them being exposed to sexuality at all) and loads of swearing. Violence tends to be okay, because it's fine for a child's fragile psyche to see someone being senselessly eviscerated and dying in a pool of his own blood, but an act of love and pleasure could scar the kid for life. For... some reason.
Because of this, swearing, sex, and violence were deemed -- and in most cases, rightfully so -- the province of adults, of mature audiences, of people who would watch these things without going off and trying to emulate them in an inappropriate context. Thus, "mature content" was a signal to parents everywhere that what they were about to see was not intended for and might not be best for the kiddies. I leave that decision in the hands of the parents. It's their job to make that call, not the MPAA, not the government; the parents. But the warning is sensible and appreciated. Here's the problem.
In logic, the only math unit in high school I actually liked, we learned that while A might imply B, B does not necessarily imply A. In this context, while mature content may imply the presence of swearing, sex, and violence, those things do not make something mature or adult. Hate to burst your bubble, kids, but sex does not necessitate maturity. There are teen parents across America that are living proof of this.
Everyone wants their work to be taken seriously, and since people, erroneously so, seldom take kids seriously, removing something from the realm of kids is considered shorthand for this. And in these people's mad dash to show everyone how quality and not juvenile their work is, they figure sprinkling some blood and titties on everything will really get the message across that this work isn't for kids, and thus deserves a greater degree of respect. And if it's not this motive, they're really just flipping their middle fingers up at their parents for trying to censor their own entertainment when they were growing up. "Repress this, assholes!"
And so, maturity in entertainment has become synonymous with a laundry list of topics and features, rather than how those topics and features are approached and handled. This always makes me think of when a friend of mine worked in a video store back in high school, and kept mistaking the "Mature" section for "Nature" and would head over, looking for Discovery Channel specials and just found... not that. Ironically, the Discovery Channel stuff would've been more mature, even if it wasn't Mature.
Like I said, I'm no prude, but I just find all this in-your-faceness to be rather tedious. I mean, really? A best-selling novel series featuring intrigue, murder, sex, and politics... that's not enough? We gotta crank it up somehow? Really? For whom? I mean, I humbly suggest that anyone who's not happy with that is not really the audience you want. I mean, I know it's a business and the only audience they ultimately care about is a big one, but Jesus, you're HBO. Grow up a little, will ya?
Grow up and ease up a bit on the Mature Content. The entire selling point of your product is based on the principle that you're holding yourselves and your audience to a higher standard and not just pandering to the masses. Act like it.
And for all those writers and directors and producers out there, I leave with you with some words of wisdom from Inara Serra, possibly my favorite character in all of Joss Whedon's works. While in the afterglow with Inara, a young man who's just lost his virginity asks, "Aren't I supposed to be a man now?" And she tells him quite kindly, "A man is just a boy who's old enough to ask that question. Our time together, it's a ritual, a symbol ... but it doesn't make you a man. You do that yourself."
Think about it.
So, the show so far is incredibly faithful to the book. There were a couple of changes, but nothing I really minded, except for one really big thing. When Daenerys Targaryen makes love to Khal Drogo on their wedding night, she is believably terrified. This was also in the book. However, unlike in the book, he takes her forcefully and it's clear that, while she's not resisting, she is not happy about this. And the scene ends there. That's the end of her storyline for the pilot. This was not okay with me, for a very major reason.
In the book, Daenerys is terrified, nervous as hell. She knows she has to do this; as his bride, it's expected of her on their wedding night. However, he totally rocks the foreplay. He touches her, runs his hand along her shoulders and back and breasts, totally lubes her up, awakening her to all this sensation she's never even dreamed about. Then, after doing this for a while, he asks her "No?" This seems to be the only word he knows in her language, and for the first time it's a question. Her reply is "Yes." And then she takes his hand and draws it south for him to finger her.
Now, I have like zero investment in watching straight sex in and of itself, but this scene was so well written in the book that I wanted to be a terrified virgin bride. The real thing about this scene that's so powerful, though, is that it's the moment that Daenerys begins to become a woman. Not that sex makes you an adult -- actually, more on that point later -- but her awareness of her body and the ownership of it that she takes, owning her part in the pleasure and guiding Drogo's hand, it was the first beat in a storyline that would continue in a later scene where she dictates their position during sex. And he goes with it! It is after this moment that she starts to act more self-possessed and active. It is this moment that starts her arc, setting her feet down the path that will lead her to standing up to her brother Viserys, who up until this point in her life called all the shots and made everything about him, even going so far as to arrange her marriage (for his own political gain) in the first place. It's a huge moment that is, given the context, incredibly feminist and empowering. The girl steps toward a man of her own volition, initiates herself to sexuality on her own terms, and becomes a young woman.
But HBO just had her all but raped. Why? Because it makes the scene grittier? More fucked up and shocking? Really, HBO? Really?
And this was the other problem I had with the show. George R. R. Martin does not shy away from violence and sexuality in his book. The story is full of it: greed, murder, adultery, incest, intrigue, whores... it's all about corruption and sin, and it's great! But Martin uses it where he needs to use it, and not sparingly. There were certain scenes in the pilot that I do not remember from the book. Granted, I'm not done with it yet, but even if those scenes occur later, why put them there? Was there not enough sex up front? I couldn't help but feel that HBO amped up the sex just to amp up the sex.
As if there wasn't enough of it already.
Don't get me wrong, the cast is brilliant and every single scene was magnificently acted. The debauchery at the Dothraki wedding, I was all for that, and there was some additional nudity I was totally fine with. But there were certain scenes, some with sex, some without, where you could have swapped out every single line with "This isn't Lord of the Rings" and the scene would still make perfect sense.
We come to what I've dubbed "HBO Syndrome."
HBO, and later Showtime (and eventually some basic cable channels), have sort of become the new bastions of quality television, shows that are fresh, original, smartly-written, and uncensored. These are not shows that have to think of the children. These are shows intended for reasonably intelligent, usually at least partially educated adults who want to see quality material. So, to prove it, to prove just how not for kids they are, these shows will often push the envelope, not to make a point, not because it needs to be pushed, just to prove how hardcore they are. It's the same reason almost every other student in my first-year film class tried to make a horribly pretentious angst fest that ended with someone either killing him/herself or contemplating it. I made a romantic comedy about how expectations tend to get in the way of happiness, but that's neither here nor there.
I call this problem,which so many writers, directors, and producers seem to suffer from, "The Rule of Fucked Up."
The Rule of Fucked Up states that everything, even dramatic satisfaction, takes a backseat to doing the most fucked up thing possible, the less predictable, the better. Some might call that edgy. I call it cheap entertainment. No nutritional value. It's not that I'm against shock value. That phrase contains the words value and for good reason. However, there's a big difference between a shock that has weight and a shock that does more harm than good. It has to be more than the narrative equivalent of "Ha! Made you look!" And it's usually not. HBO Syndrome has countless shows following The Rule of Fucked Up (though FX's Nip/Tuck is probably the worst offender in this regard).
"Let's have the main character be an adulterer or be otherwise horrible to someone for no reason. You know, just to prove how flawed/bad-ass/cool he is."
"Let's do something horribly politically incorrect, relevant to neither the plot nor the characters, so that our audience knows we won't be cowed by anyone! Let's be offensive just to prove we're not pussies!"
"Look, Ma! Boobies! Cursing! Sex! You can't ground me anymore! I make the rules now!"
Everyone reading this knows what I'm talking about, and if you don't, why are you reading my blog? And I think this really illuminates my problem with a lot of stuff. I am no prude. I am no goody two-shoes. My characters swear and have sex all the time. I don't flinch from it, I don't even try to side-step it, but I don't do it just to do it or to prove some kind of juvenile point. This, to me, expresses the entire conflict at hand here: the difference between mature content and Mature Content.
See, mature content is content that requires a certain degree of social, psychological, and emotional maturity to digest and appreciate, as opposed to Mature Content, which is basically just, you know, anything that makes thirteen-year-old boys go "Oh, snap!"
mature content... a sex scene. Beautiful or dark or even funny and frivolous, but important in some regard.
Mature Content... a gratuitous sex scene. Don't even try to defend it. We all know why you put it there.
See, few people want their kids to be exposed to graphic depictions of sexuality (if they're comfortable with them being exposed to sexuality at all) and loads of swearing. Violence tends to be okay, because it's fine for a child's fragile psyche to see someone being senselessly eviscerated and dying in a pool of his own blood, but an act of love and pleasure could scar the kid for life. For... some reason.
Because of this, swearing, sex, and violence were deemed -- and in most cases, rightfully so -- the province of adults, of mature audiences, of people who would watch these things without going off and trying to emulate them in an inappropriate context. Thus, "mature content" was a signal to parents everywhere that what they were about to see was not intended for and might not be best for the kiddies. I leave that decision in the hands of the parents. It's their job to make that call, not the MPAA, not the government; the parents. But the warning is sensible and appreciated. Here's the problem.
In logic, the only math unit in high school I actually liked, we learned that while A might imply B, B does not necessarily imply A. In this context, while mature content may imply the presence of swearing, sex, and violence, those things do not make something mature or adult. Hate to burst your bubble, kids, but sex does not necessitate maturity. There are teen parents across America that are living proof of this.
Everyone wants their work to be taken seriously, and since people, erroneously so, seldom take kids seriously, removing something from the realm of kids is considered shorthand for this. And in these people's mad dash to show everyone how quality and not juvenile their work is, they figure sprinkling some blood and titties on everything will really get the message across that this work isn't for kids, and thus deserves a greater degree of respect. And if it's not this motive, they're really just flipping their middle fingers up at their parents for trying to censor their own entertainment when they were growing up. "Repress this, assholes!"
And so, maturity in entertainment has become synonymous with a laundry list of topics and features, rather than how those topics and features are approached and handled. This always makes me think of when a friend of mine worked in a video store back in high school, and kept mistaking the "Mature" section for "Nature" and would head over, looking for Discovery Channel specials and just found... not that. Ironically, the Discovery Channel stuff would've been more mature, even if it wasn't Mature.
Like I said, I'm no prude, but I just find all this in-your-faceness to be rather tedious. I mean, really? A best-selling novel series featuring intrigue, murder, sex, and politics... that's not enough? We gotta crank it up somehow? Really? For whom? I mean, I humbly suggest that anyone who's not happy with that is not really the audience you want. I mean, I know it's a business and the only audience they ultimately care about is a big one, but Jesus, you're HBO. Grow up a little, will ya?
Grow up and ease up a bit on the Mature Content. The entire selling point of your product is based on the principle that you're holding yourselves and your audience to a higher standard and not just pandering to the masses. Act like it.
And for all those writers and directors and producers out there, I leave with you with some words of wisdom from Inara Serra, possibly my favorite character in all of Joss Whedon's works. While in the afterglow with Inara, a young man who's just lost his virginity asks, "Aren't I supposed to be a man now?" And she tells him quite kindly, "A man is just a boy who's old enough to ask that question. Our time together, it's a ritual, a symbol ... but it doesn't make you a man. You do that yourself."
Think about it.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Conflicts of Interest
There are all kinds of stories: funny ones, moving ones, the kind of that can awaken something in you that you'd long thought dead. They can be small character studies, sweeping epics, simple, or layered with meaning. However, for all the variety, all the contrast, there is one thing that all stories must have.
Conflict.
We need it. We crave it. All stories are built on it. There's just one problem. Most conflict is fucking boring. Have you ever been sitting around, watching your favorite show, and then realized within about five minutes not only where the plot is going, but why you're going to end up groaning for the next hour? It's because the conflict sucks. There are a lot of reasons this happens and not just in television, though TV does tend to be the worst offender.
The reason for this is that most conflict is false. Most conflict is about shit that just. Doesn't. Matter. When you've got to talk yourself into why the stakes are high, they're not. False conflict is all around us, infesting our fiction like rats.
I want to be perfectly clear, false conflict is not the same as fantastic conflict. Trekking into Mordor so that the One Ring can be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom: this is a fantastic conflict, but the emotions it fuels are real. The struggles and choices the characters make would affect most real people in exactly the same way, given the circumstances.
False conflict is the kind of conflict where, if the characters behaved with even a modicum of maturity for, like, thirty seconds, the plot wouldn't happen. This can occur by many means.
1) The characters could become very stubborn about an issue that it is positively ridiculous for them to be stubborn about. Sure, people can have sore spots or even a petty issue here and there, but there are some things where, if anyone really feels that strongly about it, the character just becomes irritating or altogether less likable. "But we need them to disagree! We need our conflict!" You need a different conflict that isn't predicated on bullshit.
2) Miscommunication. Oh, the comedy of errors, a classic! To some people. To me, they rarely come off well. Maybe it's the product of being raised in a household where miscommunication led to substance abuse problems and loads of family therapy, but I don't find it very amusing. In fact, I don't appreciate misunderstandings in a story unless the entire point of them is "misunderstandings are dangerous." To me, miscommunication is the stuff of tragedy, because what is tragedy ultimately but really sad shit that could have been avoided?
If Carol gets mad at Frank for something she thought he said, rather than something he actually did say, then the conflict is essentially a lie. It's cheap. It's empty-calorie conflict: no nutritional value. Now, if Carol gets mad at Frank for something he said but didn't mean, that's another story, because whether or not he meant something, he still made the choice to say it, thus Carol is angry with Frank's choices. What you have is a clash of beliefs or ideologies. Carol's either mad at what Frank is expressing or just the fact that he would say such a thing, whether he meant it or not. Either way, her anger is based on something real, not a bad game of telephone.
Some writers try to handwave this by having the offender try to explain to the misinformed and fail. For instance, Frank tries to explain that he never said what Carol's friend told her he said, but then Carol refuses to listen to his explanation or even hear him out at all. Or she's being so irrational about the whole thing,Frank decides he doesn't owe her any explanations, and refrains from clearing things up on principle. And the truth is cockblocked, sustaining the false conflict.
Right about this time, you want to throw your remote at the TV, and with good reason. Because on some level, no matter if it's a sitcom, no matter how wacky or comical the characters, at the end of the day, we want to invest in what's going on, and we can't if we don't respect the characters. I challenge any of you to respect someone who's acting like a tool.
To prove that I'm capable of seeing the good as well as the bad, I'd like to offer an example of a show that more often than not gets it right. Tonight on Parenthood, the character of Haddie was talking with her boyfriend, Alex, who is nineteen, about going to her junior prom. He didn't look thrilled with the idea. Now, since this exchange occurred within the first five or so minutes of the episode, I immediately clenched, but rather than waste an hour dragging out this fairly stupid problem, they dealt with it right then and there. Rather than have Alex dig in his heels about how stupid he thinks prom is and how he really, really doesn't want to go, he expresses the point once, and upon Haddie explaining how much she's looking forward to it, decides that a few hours of bad punch and overplayed music, while not his first choice for a Saturday night, is hardly worth taking a stand against.
This frees us up for the actual plot, Haddie's parents worrying about her possibly having sex on prom night, especially given how much older Alex is. Double-interesting because Haddie is a level-headed girl who's not the type to be talked into anything she doesn't want to do, and her parents genuinely like Alex. This now creates two legitimate conflicts, Haddie's parents dealing with the possibility of her becoming sexually active and, what for me is the far more interesting and on-theme dilemma, her mother trying to figure out how to deal with this situation and how to be a good parent without her daughter hating her, resenting her, or otherwise finding her lame... if that's even possible.
Mmm... that was tasty. False conflict, not so much.
So, to all my fellow writers out there, a word of advice and caution. Sometimes our characters are petty people who make petty choices. Sometimes the stay of execution arrives too late. Sometimes Romeo drinks the poison. Sometimes people don't articulate everything as well as they probably could, and it creates a huge clusterfuck of fail. That's life. But life is not fiction, so be careful how you pick and choose when to use false conflict, because, sure, you might keep your story going. People might stick with it to see how it ends, but they'll probably be so pissed off at either you or the characters, that they won't be coming back for the next one.
Do us all a favor. Don't be a lazy fuck. Real conflict. Write it.
Conflict.
We need it. We crave it. All stories are built on it. There's just one problem. Most conflict is fucking boring. Have you ever been sitting around, watching your favorite show, and then realized within about five minutes not only where the plot is going, but why you're going to end up groaning for the next hour? It's because the conflict sucks. There are a lot of reasons this happens and not just in television, though TV does tend to be the worst offender.
The reason for this is that most conflict is false. Most conflict is about shit that just. Doesn't. Matter. When you've got to talk yourself into why the stakes are high, they're not. False conflict is all around us, infesting our fiction like rats.
I want to be perfectly clear, false conflict is not the same as fantastic conflict. Trekking into Mordor so that the One Ring can be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom: this is a fantastic conflict, but the emotions it fuels are real. The struggles and choices the characters make would affect most real people in exactly the same way, given the circumstances.
False conflict is the kind of conflict where, if the characters behaved with even a modicum of maturity for, like, thirty seconds, the plot wouldn't happen. This can occur by many means.
1) The characters could become very stubborn about an issue that it is positively ridiculous for them to be stubborn about. Sure, people can have sore spots or even a petty issue here and there, but there are some things where, if anyone really feels that strongly about it, the character just becomes irritating or altogether less likable. "But we need them to disagree! We need our conflict!" You need a different conflict that isn't predicated on bullshit.
2) Miscommunication. Oh, the comedy of errors, a classic! To some people. To me, they rarely come off well. Maybe it's the product of being raised in a household where miscommunication led to substance abuse problems and loads of family therapy, but I don't find it very amusing. In fact, I don't appreciate misunderstandings in a story unless the entire point of them is "misunderstandings are dangerous." To me, miscommunication is the stuff of tragedy, because what is tragedy ultimately but really sad shit that could have been avoided?
If Carol gets mad at Frank for something she thought he said, rather than something he actually did say, then the conflict is essentially a lie. It's cheap. It's empty-calorie conflict: no nutritional value. Now, if Carol gets mad at Frank for something he said but didn't mean, that's another story, because whether or not he meant something, he still made the choice to say it, thus Carol is angry with Frank's choices. What you have is a clash of beliefs or ideologies. Carol's either mad at what Frank is expressing or just the fact that he would say such a thing, whether he meant it or not. Either way, her anger is based on something real, not a bad game of telephone.
Some writers try to handwave this by having the offender try to explain to the misinformed and fail. For instance, Frank tries to explain that he never said what Carol's friend told her he said, but then Carol refuses to listen to his explanation or even hear him out at all. Or she's being so irrational about the whole thing,Frank decides he doesn't owe her any explanations, and refrains from clearing things up on principle. And the truth is cockblocked, sustaining the false conflict.
Right about this time, you want to throw your remote at the TV, and with good reason. Because on some level, no matter if it's a sitcom, no matter how wacky or comical the characters, at the end of the day, we want to invest in what's going on, and we can't if we don't respect the characters. I challenge any of you to respect someone who's acting like a tool.
To prove that I'm capable of seeing the good as well as the bad, I'd like to offer an example of a show that more often than not gets it right. Tonight on Parenthood, the character of Haddie was talking with her boyfriend, Alex, who is nineteen, about going to her junior prom. He didn't look thrilled with the idea. Now, since this exchange occurred within the first five or so minutes of the episode, I immediately clenched, but rather than waste an hour dragging out this fairly stupid problem, they dealt with it right then and there. Rather than have Alex dig in his heels about how stupid he thinks prom is and how he really, really doesn't want to go, he expresses the point once, and upon Haddie explaining how much she's looking forward to it, decides that a few hours of bad punch and overplayed music, while not his first choice for a Saturday night, is hardly worth taking a stand against.
This frees us up for the actual plot, Haddie's parents worrying about her possibly having sex on prom night, especially given how much older Alex is. Double-interesting because Haddie is a level-headed girl who's not the type to be talked into anything she doesn't want to do, and her parents genuinely like Alex. This now creates two legitimate conflicts, Haddie's parents dealing with the possibility of her becoming sexually active and, what for me is the far more interesting and on-theme dilemma, her mother trying to figure out how to deal with this situation and how to be a good parent without her daughter hating her, resenting her, or otherwise finding her lame... if that's even possible.
Mmm... that was tasty. False conflict, not so much.
So, to all my fellow writers out there, a word of advice and caution. Sometimes our characters are petty people who make petty choices. Sometimes the stay of execution arrives too late. Sometimes Romeo drinks the poison. Sometimes people don't articulate everything as well as they probably could, and it creates a huge clusterfuck of fail. That's life. But life is not fiction, so be careful how you pick and choose when to use false conflict, because, sure, you might keep your story going. People might stick with it to see how it ends, but they'll probably be so pissed off at either you or the characters, that they won't be coming back for the next one.
Do us all a favor. Don't be a lazy fuck. Real conflict. Write it.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
The Unconventional Wisdom: Welcome to my blog
My name is Michael Salvatore Mammano. I am a writer. I've been published... sort of... but mostly I've been hungry and poor... and often without heat in whatever apartment I'm living in. This blog is not about literary success. That's something I'm still working on. It's not about the result; it's about the process.
Now, everyone's process is different. What's true for me won't work for some people, and that's fine. My personal motto is "whatever gets you there," and indeed, while my opinions tend to be very strong, they are just that: opinions. I would urge anyone reading this not to dismiss anything they might find of value just because we disagree on other points. Take what you need. Leave the rest.
While this blog was largely created to create a professional identity separate from my personal life, there are some things about me that I will put out there, as they inform who I am, what I write, and how I write. So, here are a few things you might want to know before we get this party started.
I am fascinated by adolescence. Always have been, always will be. For no other period of your life do you get a free pass for how you dressed, what you said, or how you behaved. There's also no other period where every detail, every action, no matter how insignificant, has weight. Everything is epic. Everything matters. Drama isn't something teens create. It's something they can't escape. Adolescence is also a time when everything exists in absolute terms. Moral ambiguity is an adult construct, one we need to develop in order to cope with the realities of life. Teenagers don't have that problem, and so it creates an atmosphere of heightened tension, temptation, and consequences. For these and many other reasons, I love to write about teenagers, and in fact, about 80% of my work is about them. For this reason, much of my work could be classified as Young Adult Fiction, and I have no problem with that designation, but given my tone and content, I think it would probably be more accurate to say I write adult stories about teenagers. It's a subtle distinction, but nonetheless significant.
My work tends to be rather homo-inclusive. As a gay man, in my world view, there's always at least one gay person in the picture. It doesn't mean I'm going to shoehorn a gay character into a work just to have one there, but then again, to me, having gay characters around is just as organic as having straight characters. I have little interest in telling stories where gay people have no place or relevance. There are already enough of those out there. That being said, unless a story is about a group of gay characters (and I have more than one), the cast will be fairly straight-heavy, as the human population, well... is.
On the matter of diversity in general, I tend toward it. If I can diversify by changing a character's race, gender, religion, or sexual orientation, I'll do it so long as that new background doesn't derail the character in any kind of fundamental way. I mean, I'm not going to make a Klansman Asian, even though that would be really funny. I'm not about tokenism and I have no desire to create a Benetton ad, but there are enough straight male WASPs in fiction. It couldn't hurt to trade out a few here and there for a little variety.
I love red hair. Love it. I guarantee you will find at least one character in any work of mine -- could be a guy, could be a girl, could be a major role, could be a cameo -- sporting the ginger. It's my own way of signing my work. Think of it as the Where's Waldo? of my writing.
I think epic. I once had an idea for a short story. It is now a planned pentalogy of novels. I shudder to think at what would be involved in the realization of an idea that had been planned as an epic from day one. So, when I'm discussing an idea for one of the TV shows I've come up with and I'm talking about something that happens in Season 5, rest assured that I'm actually thinking that far ahead. I don't know how not to.
Lastly, I'd like to talk a bit about a term you will hear me use with a fair degree of frequency. That term is "the conventional wisdom." For those who don't know, the conventional wisdom is, for the most part, opinions that have been put forth and generally accepted as truths on the merit of their popularity. Popularity has never been a yardstick by which I've measured my beliefs and/or actions. Never will be. As such, there will be times when I challenge the conventional wisdom. I think you'll enjoy them.
That about does it. And now, on to the blog!
Now, everyone's process is different. What's true for me won't work for some people, and that's fine. My personal motto is "whatever gets you there," and indeed, while my opinions tend to be very strong, they are just that: opinions. I would urge anyone reading this not to dismiss anything they might find of value just because we disagree on other points. Take what you need. Leave the rest.
While this blog was largely created to create a professional identity separate from my personal life, there are some things about me that I will put out there, as they inform who I am, what I write, and how I write. So, here are a few things you might want to know before we get this party started.
I am fascinated by adolescence. Always have been, always will be. For no other period of your life do you get a free pass for how you dressed, what you said, or how you behaved. There's also no other period where every detail, every action, no matter how insignificant, has weight. Everything is epic. Everything matters. Drama isn't something teens create. It's something they can't escape. Adolescence is also a time when everything exists in absolute terms. Moral ambiguity is an adult construct, one we need to develop in order to cope with the realities of life. Teenagers don't have that problem, and so it creates an atmosphere of heightened tension, temptation, and consequences. For these and many other reasons, I love to write about teenagers, and in fact, about 80% of my work is about them. For this reason, much of my work could be classified as Young Adult Fiction, and I have no problem with that designation, but given my tone and content, I think it would probably be more accurate to say I write adult stories about teenagers. It's a subtle distinction, but nonetheless significant.
My work tends to be rather homo-inclusive. As a gay man, in my world view, there's always at least one gay person in the picture. It doesn't mean I'm going to shoehorn a gay character into a work just to have one there, but then again, to me, having gay characters around is just as organic as having straight characters. I have little interest in telling stories where gay people have no place or relevance. There are already enough of those out there. That being said, unless a story is about a group of gay characters (and I have more than one), the cast will be fairly straight-heavy, as the human population, well... is.
On the matter of diversity in general, I tend toward it. If I can diversify by changing a character's race, gender, religion, or sexual orientation, I'll do it so long as that new background doesn't derail the character in any kind of fundamental way. I mean, I'm not going to make a Klansman Asian, even though that would be really funny. I'm not about tokenism and I have no desire to create a Benetton ad, but there are enough straight male WASPs in fiction. It couldn't hurt to trade out a few here and there for a little variety.
I love red hair. Love it. I guarantee you will find at least one character in any work of mine -- could be a guy, could be a girl, could be a major role, could be a cameo -- sporting the ginger. It's my own way of signing my work. Think of it as the Where's Waldo? of my writing.
I think epic. I once had an idea for a short story. It is now a planned pentalogy of novels. I shudder to think at what would be involved in the realization of an idea that had been planned as an epic from day one. So, when I'm discussing an idea for one of the TV shows I've come up with and I'm talking about something that happens in Season 5, rest assured that I'm actually thinking that far ahead. I don't know how not to.
Lastly, I'd like to talk a bit about a term you will hear me use with a fair degree of frequency. That term is "the conventional wisdom." For those who don't know, the conventional wisdom is, for the most part, opinions that have been put forth and generally accepted as truths on the merit of their popularity. Popularity has never been a yardstick by which I've measured my beliefs and/or actions. Never will be. As such, there will be times when I challenge the conventional wisdom. I think you'll enjoy them.
That about does it. And now, on to the blog!
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