Imaginary Stranger-Danger
29 May 2012 1 Comment
in Art, Books, Fantasy, Writing Tags: backstory, characters, mistake, potential, surprise, Syawn
Initially, Syawn was a common thief, a disposable, biodegradable bully boy, a one-use character with single purpose: to be Mysst’s first kill.
But he grew on my mind, blossomed literally overnight, and informed me that I was to write his story — not to worry, he’d let me keep the little girl as a side-plot.
I had to re-write the entire scene, of course, for besides mistakenly killing him off, I’d gotten him entirely wrong — the only thing I’d written true was the glitter of his bright green eyes; merry and dangerous and much too intelligent for anybody’s good.
Not too merry lookin’ here, mind.
Not much of a character was here yet, for all he’d seized me — there were surely a thousand such eyes in that primordial character soup, but t’was Sy who saw the opening, Sy who lunged for it.
I had to pull him out of a sea of potential, all the time discovering the wrong traits or dashing off down the wrong character rabbit-holes. Sy, patient man, was always there to let me know, mid key-stroke in some chapter that, no, he didn’t have a Scottish accent.
What? Was he sure? I love Scottish accents.
He was sure.
Well dang.
I still didn’t know everything, but that was ok; it’s never as much fun when you see it all from the get-go. My friend and I have written headlong into surprises so often, it’s become a saying of ours: “The author is always the last to know.”
Our processes have been littered with, for example, “How come I never heard about your being half-elemental?”, or in Sy’s case, “You never mentioned you spent your fourteenth year pillaging on the high seas, why am I only hearing about this now?”
Let your people boast (or whisper, or moan over a full pint) to you about their backstories. As authors, we’re not allowed to spring such surprises on our readers like that; nay, we must plant these things throughout the chapters, to avoid breaking that precious suspension of disbelief. As characters, however, they have no rule against coming at their authors out of the blue, and personally, I think it’s fun to roll with the punches.
Of course, Sy waited to reveal his utter lack of empathy until I was too deeply entrenched in his tale to get out alive. Must be a Thief Lord thing.
Be careful talking to imaginary strangers; you never know what you’re going to get press-ganged into writing.
Character Clippings from the Ether
23 May 2012 2 Comments
in Art, Books, Fantasy, Writing Tags: beginnings, character, creation, imagination, inspiration, new
A sea of characters swirls in the ether, infinite shades of multifaceted beings, people that flit into an artist’s imagination, begging to have their tale told, or else draw tentatively nearer as they’re called…
So that’s my character-finding process. Sort of. Not really. Okay, maybe it’s significantly less magical. …Or is it? Just how supernatural is mere imagination? It is, at the very least, other-worldly; consider how many worlds can form within one. But I’m not talking about the formation of universes, only characters.
How do such mysterious things as imaginary people get their start inside my mind? How do these clippings from some mystical forest plant themselves, put down roots, grow into true, vibrant, leafy, fruit-producing characters? …Alright, I may have taken that metaphor an acre too far.
I would tell you how I go about creating/finding/being jumped by characters, but my process is even more varied than that triple-slash thing would indicate. For every fresh character, there is a fresh explanation, a fresh manner of birth. Some were born of inspiration, some of labor, some of real life, some of conglomerate, some of idle speculation… and some of other things yet.
Since it’s hardly possible to cover all such first sparks of existence in one small blog piece, I will give it to you a character at a time; my main cast (and some of my more interesting minor fellows) each stepping into the spotlight to show you how they entered my thoughts in the first place. Hopefully, you’ll find it inspiring.
It’ll be something like a mom pulling out the scrapbook of baby pictures for company, you know; “And this was Johnny’s first bath, wasn’t he a little peach?” Heh heh… my poor fictional cast will be blushing so bright I could read by them. First in line; the formation of Syawn. Watch for it.
“Will you talk about me in the bath?” he asks, brows raised in interest.
No, Sy.
“Cryin’ shame. Your readers would love it.”
Shut up, Sy.
The Hunger Games Movie
11 Apr 2012 4 Comments
in Art, Books, Movies, Uncategorized Tags: Birthday, Capitol, Cinna, Fashion, Haymitch, Hunger Games, Katniss, Peeta, Style
So last something (far too long ago to have waited until now to post this), my nephew celebrated his 16th in full Hunger Games fashion. And when I say fashion, I mean Capitol fashion.
I'm the one in purple, the girl with the hair roll is my niece. Birthday boy is in blue, and his mother is in black and gold.
The one with the mask on the back of her head is my sister.
In the middle of turning from Capitol citizen to district tribute.
It was pretty boss. We played Capitol citizens, went out to watch the Games, then came back home to play our own. Oh, man, our Cornucopia/Bloodbath was boss, but sadly, I’m mostly here to talk about the movie. I know, I know, you’d rather hear about a boy’s birthday party than a review on a film you’re deciding whether to see or skip, but– maybe another time.
For now, the Cinema’s version of our beloved brutal books…
My Major Complaints:
1) Cinna. The man was too nice. Cinna’s rarity was in the fact that he recognized Katniss as a human being, not in being pleasant to her. Not that the book Cinna wasn’t kind, but they played kindness over the top, and it drowned out his subtle madness. Compare:
Movie Cinna: “I’m sorry this has happened to you.”
Book Cinna: *Long stare* “How despicable we must seem to you. No matter.”
It is the second fellow, the insightful eccentric, that made Cinna my favorite character.
2) Haymitch. Again, too bloody nice– and further, not nearly drunk enough. In the first half of the first scene, he seems like the Haymitch we know and mock, but then he goes into total helpful mode. They didn’t even highlight the transition. (This was an issue throughout– they failed to bring poignancy to half the poignant points in the book. They included them, but… glossily.)
Then, believe it or don’t, he goes on to show an obvious liking of Katniss. Where are the gruff bellows? Where are the declarations of the hopelessness of her charisma? The “Haymitch? He hates me!”
Lost– and a perfectly pleasant person in his place.
3) The Shaky Camera Effect. Ok, I get what they’re going for. It’s a valid effect… to a point, and they passed that point pretty quickly.
After a time, my brain stopped saying ”Look! A realistic portrayal of befuddling action!” and started saying things like ”Get a tri-pod!” and “Get an action-sequence choreographer!” and “Give my eyes something to latch onto before they go permanently unfocused!”
Come on, folks– it’s not like Collins didn’t give you some epic play-by-play to work with, here.
4) The ending. I don’t want to spoil too much, so I’ll just say this; I like where they chose to cut it, but it felt rushed and abrupt. I think they needed to take a little more time over the poignant points of the aftermath. I’m not talking about a ton, I’m saying 20-30 more seconds of screen time would have made the film 20-30% better.
My Major Accolades:
1) Katniss. The acting here was perfect. I heard some complaint somewhere, about Jennifer Lawrence showing no charisma. DUDE. KATNISS EVERDEEN HAS NO CHARISMA. It’s one of Haymitch’s biggest complaints about the girl. Lawrence portrayed what she was supposed to portray:
A girl who was concerned first and foremost with her sister (and any little girls like her), and second with living.
A girl, defined by her struggle to scrape out an existence for the both of them.
That same girl, thrust into a horrible and overwhelming experience.
That survivalist, who thought she couldn’t afford to think about making statements,going on to make the biggest statement in the history of the Hunger Games.
Lawrence captured every bit of that, and every hat on my hat shelf is off to her.
2) Peeta. Again, great acting. Some people don’t think Josh Hutcherson showed that illusive inner specialness of Peeta’s, but… Well, I see it. I think he got it.
Softly strong. Idealistic. Naturally charismatic. A sweetie. A… A really good person, you know?
I’m sorry we don’t also get to see “lovesick boy gets his bubble popped” at the end there, but I think that’s the scriptwriter’s fault, not the actor’s. Hoi, people! Give Hutcherson 10-15 more seconds, he won’t disappoint! As it was, he made the best of what he got.
3) The Reaping. Ok, I said something about them glossing over the poignant points in the book. Not so at the reaping. When they choose to focus on something, they do it right. The reaping was done justice, just sayin’.
They did a good job of building tension, they captured the awkwardness of Effie Trinket’s peppiness in contrast with the somber mood of the district, and they did a wonderful job of going into shock– Prim, Katniss, Peeta, they all captured the stunned, slightly out-of-body look of a lower-district tribute.
4) The Game Maker Angle. The dynamic between President Snow and Seneca Crane was something we didn’t get to see in the books, and it was danged awesome, getting to see it on screen. Added a bigger-picture angle to the piece that you don’t get in the books until Catching Fire.
And the Game Maker’s headquarters were boss, no denying that; another thing you didn’t get to see in the first-person narrative, and it lent a creepily clinical feel to the Games. Gave you a stronger sense of the tributes being toyed with.
And Seneca’s beard was utterly unmatchable. #CapitolFashionDo’s
Song as Old as Spring
20 Mar 2012 8 Comments
in Poetry, Uncategorized Tags: First day of spring, fresh, minstrel, new, no new thing under the sun, Spring, tale as old as time, vernal equinox
Sing-a-song-o-springtime, the people begged the bard—
Said he; “To find new rhyme is hard.
Sweet spring has sprung too oft from ground,
Who’d wish to sing another round?
For spring’s been sung into the ground.”
Sing-a-song-o-springtime, the people begged him yet,
Of flowered boughs and bursting buds and grasses green and wet.
“Sing what?” cried he. “Of bird’s return? Of growing nest and egg?”
Of that, and more, the people said, a song of spring we beg.
“But what is new to say of new?” Cried troubled troubadour.
“This vernal tide, this flowering prime, has thus been called; and more.
I’ve naught to say of spring but this—
That sunshine wakes the earth with kiss,
And ground grows green in vibrant bliss
Then all goes damp with rain and mist
Until the rain and sun make tryst
And rainbows arc between the twain
Till grey clouds fade, and with them, rain
And sun again holds full domain.”
A song-o-springtime, sing us more!
“What’s this?” Quoth he, “What awful chore!
To make anew a thing so old,
I cannot sing of spring so bold,
I cannot freshen green and gold,
And blue of sky with words oft-told.”
“The budding new has too-long stood
The budding songs that once were good
Have long been sung into the ground.
Who’d wish to sing another round?
Sweet spring has sprung too oft from ground.”
A-song-o-springtime, still they said, and so he sadly did.
He sweetly sang of songbird’s love, of newling lamb and kid.
The smell of earth and wet and green he wove into a song,
With words well known and sung before, and still he sang along,
Of waterfalls of melted snow, and skies washed blue and clean,
And though the tribute, true, was old, it sounded new as spring.
The Spirit Thief
05 Mar 2012 10 Comments
in Books, Fantasy, Reading, Uncategorized Tags: Eli Monpress, fantasy, magic, Rachel Aaron, read, recommend, Review, Spirit Eater, Spirit Rebellion, Spirit Thief, spirits, thief, wizard
You may remember me wailing with joy, two blogs ago, about winning the Eli Monpress Omnibus, by Rachel Aaron. I have completed the behemoth, and am here to wail with joy about having done so. I am also here to shove you into a bookstore to follow my footsteps.
The Omnibus consists of three books, The Spirit Thief, The Spirit Rebellion, and The Spirit Eater. While I would recommend the Legend of Eli Monpress Omnibus, (partly for its price and mostly for its spectacular cover art– go check it out!), I will focus on Spirit Thief for now.
There are tons of reasons to read Spirit Thief, but I fear many of them would be spoilers. So if you want to know why you should read it, to the last detail, I’m afraid you’ll just have to read it. But in case you want something of a review before you run off and pick up a copy, here are three pre-packaged reasons. I kept them as un-spoiling as possible.
1) Eli Monpress, the wizard thief at the heart of the tale. As I suspected, ‘wizard thief’ refers to the fact that he is both a wizard and a thief, not to his being some sort of wizard-stealing thief. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried his hand at wizard-napping– Spirit Thief begins with a king-napping, after all. Calling Eli Monpress “ambitious” would be an understatement, people. This fellow is in it for the glory, fame, fans, but most of all, he’s in it to raise the price on his head. What thief wouldn’t love a high bounty? …Besides the sensible ones.
2) There’s magic in the world! Well, such would be assumed in a fantasy novel, but I found this magic system fascinating and novel (pun not fully intended). This is a world where everything has a spirit (hence the proliferation of ‘spirit’ in the various titles), and if you’re a wizard, you can wake them up and have a chat. If you can catch them in the right mood, they might do you all kinds of favors. Some wizards are better at this than others, and for some reason, Eli is the best of them all– Unless, of course, the spirits he speaks to were frightened into submission by a spirit Enslaver…
3) Here. If you doubt me, read the first two chapters for yourself. Go on, I dare you. If you don’t have time to read it all, read the first chapter. It’s short, and it’ll intrigue you. If you don’t have time to read the first chapter, read the first section. It’ll intrigue you. If you don’t even have time for that, read the first few paragraphs right here:
In the prison under the castle Allaze, in the dark, moldy cells where the greatest criminals in Mellinor spent the remainder of their lives counting rocks to stave off madness, Eli Monpress was trying to wake up a door.
It was a heavy oak door with an iron frame, created centuries ago by an overzealous carpenter to have, perhaps, more corners than it should. The edges were carefully fitted to lie flush against the stained, stone walls, and the heavy boards were nailed together so tightly that not even the flickering torch light could wedge between them. In all, the effect was so overdone, the construction so inhumanly strong, that the whole black affair had transcended simple confinement and become a monument to the absolute hopelessness of the prisoner’s situation. Eli decided to focus on the wood; the iron would have taken forever.
He ran his hands over it, long fingers gently tapping in a way living trees find desperately annoying, but dead wood finds soothing, like a scratch behind the ears. At last, the boards gave a little shudder and said, in a dusty, splintery voice, “What do you want?”
“My dear friend,” Eli said, never letting up on his tapping, “the real question here is, what do you want?”
…Intrigued?
Stop and Smell the Chlorinated Fountains
23 Feb 2012 9 Comments
in Art, Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing Tags: appreciate, beauty, breathe, happy, joy, look, love, notice, observation, see, Senses, stop and smell the roses, watch
Do you ever stop in the middle of pulling weeds, press the fresh green to your nose, and breathe in the truth of it?
As you travel in your car, windows rolled up, do you pay attention to the breathtaking sense of motion, of speed?
How about looking at the color of people’s eyes, noting the variety of spectacularity the iris has up its sleeve?
Ever stop and smell the roses, literally?
The joy of observation has long been cited, and I agree that there is something truly invigorating about enjoying our God-given senses, reveling in them, not just using them to… survive. Sure, eyes are great for looking both ways before you cross, but you can look up and down and all around, too. No, you’re not just watching for snipers (though that is a security measure I also advocate), you’re looking for beauty.
Beauty, and anything of interest. Spot the strip of moss in a sidewalk crack, appreciate the trees bursting with white blossoms (even if they aggravate your allergies). Watch the sparkle of the sun on that SUV’s bright green paint job, and laugh at the crumpled paper cup, the one that looks like a face scrunched in discontent.
Try it, I mean it– stop and listen to a street musician, really look at that statue you drive by every day. Run your fingers along the fence, listen to the soft thwunk thwunk thwunk of your hand hitting the metal railings. Play the toddler, once again wondering at the blue of the sky, pressing your face against the back of the chair just to know what it feels like.
Reveling in the senses is healthy pastime for every human, but if you’re a writer, I would doubly recommend it. Sight, scent, sense of space and motion– this is the stuff descriptions are made of, and fully experiencing a thing allows you to bring it more fully to the page. Truly observing your world makes it easier to depict your own, to see your own in the first place.
And I will be surprised if prose –perhaps even poetry– did not spring up triumphantly in a wordsmith’s mind, not unlike that crashing park fountain they stopped to drink in.
…Um, figuratively, people. I do not advocate the imbibing of chlorine-laden liquids.
Eli Monpress and the Raffle-Winning Cyborg
14 Feb 2012 2 Comments
in Books, Fantasy, Reading, Uncategorized Tags: cyborg, Eli Monpress, free, Rachel Aaron, raffle, random, thief, unlikely, win, winner, wizard
You know, it never used to seem like people won things– random drawings, that sort of thing. I never won anything, no one I knew ever won anything… It seemed a little suspicious. I was inclined to agree when a friend of mine said that only cyborgs manufactured solely to win raffles won raffles.
Then, at NaNoWriMo’s Night of Writing Dangerously, I won an epicly epic Scottish Mantle. (You can check out the Night of Writing Dangerously pics, as well as said mantle, at my new photo gallery.)
I was stoked, but I didn’t suppose there had been any sort of reversal of luck– it must have been an anomaly, borne of my deep desire for all things Scottish.
And so it was in the spirit of fun, and with little hope, that I entered the contest to win the Eli Monpress omnibus, by Rachel Aaron.
Three books in one, an epic cover, and get this– it’s about a wizard thief. Not a thief who steals wizards, a thief who is a wizard. At least, I’m assuming. In any event, if you’ve read the synopsis of Ever Actor, you know that’s right up my alley, so I wanted to own this as soon as I laid eyes on the tagline. And I confess, the cover art swayed me.
And then I won it! That’s right, on day five of Rachel Aaron’s giveaway, she announced me to be the winner. This will be my first time reading anything of hers besides blogs, so I can’t wait to tell you guys how it is!
So it seems that there has been some sort of reversal of luck. Perhaps plain old people can win random drawings after all!
…Or more likely, I am a raffle-winning cyborg.
