If you’re thinking of self publishing, read this. All of it.

I just read a fascinating Q&A on Reddit with Hugh Howey, author of the self-published phenomenon Wool.  After six trancelike hours reading through all the comments, all I can say is “wow.”

Okay, I guess I can say a little more.  Yesterday, I listened to Brandon Sanderson’s lecture on self-publishing from his English 318 class this year.  While I agree with much of what he says, a lot of it is already out of date.  Probably the biggest thing is whether it’s still advantageous for indies to go with a traditional publisher after making a name for themselves.  In 2011, Amanda Hocking had some good reasons for going traditional.  In 2012, Hugh Howey has some very good reasons not to.

The other big thing, though, is this idea of author platform–that to be a successful indie, you have to find some way to drive large numbers of people to your books.  Well, not necessarily.  Hugh Howey was a nobody for three years, and the title that finally pushed him over the tipping point was the one he promoted the least.  To me, that shows:

  1. current sales are not a predictor of future sales, and
  2. a great book will grow into its audience independent of its author.

Granted, there may be a threshold that needs to be crossed before word-of-mouth really starts to kick in, but if a nobody with passable cover art and no author platform can cross it, that threshold isn’t very high–and that’s good news for all of us.

The way I see it, there are three big myths that writers struggle with in making the shift from traditional to indie publishing:

1) The flood of crap books will keep you from getting noticed

This grows out of the paradigm of limited shelf space–that the best way to get noticed is to have your book occupy more space relative to all the other books on the shelf.  This might be true in the brick and mortar world, but the rules are much different in the digital realm.

Think about it: how many new blogs are launched every single day?  Thousands, if not hundreds of thousands.  And yet people still find the good content amid the sea of crap.  On Youtube, an average of one hour of video content is uploaded every single second.  And yet there are still entertainers making a lot of money through their Youtube channels.

The rules in the digital realm are completely different from everything in the physical world.  Figuring that out requires a huge paradigm shift, one that even indie writers struggle with.

2) Publishing a book is an event that must be promoted

This grows out of the paradigm of velocity, or as Kris Rusch puts it, the “produce model” of publishing:

Every month publishing comes out with brand new product. Shelf space is limited in every single brick-and-mortar bookstore.  Big Publishing makes the bulk of its money during the first few months of a book’s existence.  So if a book sits on a bookstore’s shelf until the book sells and that sale takes six months to a  year, the bookstore and the publisher lose money.

Better to dump the old inventory on a monthly basis—for full credit for unsold items—than it is to have the inventory sit on the shelves and grow “stale.”

Of course, the flaw in this logic is that digital shelf space is unlimited, therefore books do not “spoil.” No matter how much time passes, an ebook can still be found in the same place.

Therefore, does it really make sense to make a big deal over an indie book release?  Maybe to jump start some word-of-mouth, but it’s not like your career is going to be harmed if you do nothing.  In fact, it might be better to hold off until you have a few more titles up, so that when you give the first one that push, readers will have something else to read once they’ve finished it.

3) To succeed you need to find a way to “break in”

This grows out of the gatekeeper paradigm, where the system is closed and the few entry points are guarded by a select group of taste makers whose job is to bestow legitimacy on those who meet the qualifications to get in.  It’s the concept of patronage, where success comes from being chosen by a wealthy benefactor, and it’s connected with the idea that you haven’t truly “arrived” until <fill in the blank>.

The flaw with this paradigm, of course, is that publishing is no longer a closed system.  The gates haven’t just been flung open, the walls themselves have been torn down.  The job of the taste makers is no longer to protect readers from the dross, but to lead them to the gems–which is honestly much closer to what it should have been in the first place.

So what does this mean for creators?  It means that there’s no longer a system to break into.  You don’t need to write better than everyone else, you just need to find (and keep) your 1,000 true fans.  Success isn’t bestowed upon you by some higher authority, it’s something that you discover on your own as you hone your craft and build your business.

Honestly, this is one that I still have a lot of trouble with.  When I left to teach English in Georgia, in the back of my mind I had this vague notion that I was going into a self-imposed exile, and wouldn’t come back or settle down until I’d “broken in.” Of course, this made me quite discouraged, because it felt like things were out of my control–or worse, that I’d somehow failed.

But listening to Brandon’s lecture and reading Howey’s Q&A session helped me to remember that it’s all still in my control.  I don’t need a benefactor, I just need a good plan, if that makes any sense.  So right now, I’m thinking things through and making the necessary revisions to that plan.  There probably won’t be any big ones–I still think I’m more or less on the right track–but it will be good to update my paradigm.

By the way, the title of this post applies to the Q&A with Hugh Howey, not to the post itself.  Though if you are thinking of self publishing, I hope it’s helped out in some way.

Also, I just finished part I of Wool, and it deserves every bit of praise that it’s got.  Expect to see a review of the omnibus shortly.

Trope Tuesday: The Hero’s Journey

For the next few Trope Tuesday posts, I’m going to pick apart one of my favorite story patterns, the monomyth or “hero’s journey.” Other tropes come and go, but the hero’s journey is truly timeless.  If you can get it to work for you, it can do wonders for your ability to understand and tell stories.

In many ways, this is the trope to end all tropes. it is the source of almost all the major story archetypes, and can be found in the myths and folklore of almost every human culture–hence the term “monomyth.” It was first formulated by Joseph Campbell, who outlined it in his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces.  He summarized it like this:

A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.

Campbell was an academic who studied mythology and folklore, and his book, though insightful, is pretty friggin dense (not to mention scientifically obsolete–he references a lot of Freud’s theories that have largely been discredited).  Later, writers like  Chris Vogler, Phil Cousineau, and David Adams Leeming analyzed and simplified the monomyth for popular audiences.

Enough background–what is it?  Basically, it’s a story pattern that resonates powerfully with readers across all genres.  In its simplest formulation, it follows three steps:

  1. Departure: The Hero leaves the familiar world.
  2. Initiation: The Hero learns to navigate the unfamiliar world.
  3. Return: The Hero masters  the unfamiliar world and returns to the familiar.

Campbell himself identified 17 stages, some of which are interchangeable:

  1. Call to Adventure: The Hero learns that he must leave the familiar world.
  2. Refusal of the Call: The Hero balks, for any number of reasons.
  3. Supernatural Aid: The Hero receives something to help him on his quest.
  4. Crossing the Threshold: The Hero ventures into the world of adventure.
  5. Belly of the Whale: The Hero passes the point of no return.
  6. The Road of Trials: The Hero’s resolve is tested, and he begins to grow.
  7. The Meeting with the Goddess: The Hero experiences the power of love.
  8. Woman as Temptress: The Hero faces and overcomes temptation.
  9. Atonement with the Father: The Hero passes the final test.
  10. Apotheosis: The Hero dies and is reborn.
  11. The Ultimate Boon: The Hero receives a gift to take home.
  12. Refusal of the Return: The Hero doesn’t want the adventure to end.
  13. The Magic Flight: The Hero uses his newly mastered skills to escape.
  14. Rescue from Without: The Hero is saved by his newfound friends.
  15. The Crossing of the Return Threshold: The Hero leaves his new world.
  16. Master of Two Worlds: The Hero reconciles the old ways with the new.
  17. Freedom to Live: The Hero uses what he has learned to live the rest of his life.

Do any of those sound familiar?  Yeah, I thought so.  It might be hard to think of a story that fits all 17 points at once, but it’s not uncommon to find one that hits seven or eight (or possibly more).

A simpler formulation by Leeming goes like this:

  1. Miraculous conception and birth
  2. Initiation of the hero-child
  3. Withdrawal from family or community for meditation and preparation
  4. Trial and Quest
  5. Death
  6. Descent into the underworld
  7. Resurrection and rebirth
  8. Ascension, apotheosis, and atonement

My personal favorite, though, is Vogler’s:

So how useful is this trope really?  Well, consider this: Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game was the first novel to win both the Hugo Award and the Nebula Award in the same year…and it hits up all eight points listed above.  The following year, Card published Speaker for the Dead, which also hit all eight points, and also won both the Hugo and the Nebula award.

The thing that made Star Wars more than just another campy sci-fi b-movie with (let’s face it) terrible acting and hokey dialogue is the fact that George Lucas drew so heavily from Joseph Campbell and the hero’s journey.  Think about it: Luke Skywalker passes through almost every one of the 17 points, right up to the awesome throne room finale at the end.

Well, this guy certainly helped.

Of course, it’s possible to go too far.  Lucas also tried to use the hero’s journey in the prequel trilogies, and failed miserably.  Why?  Many reasons, but mostly because he used it as a rigid checklist rather than a dynamic set of flexible guidelines.  The hero doesn’t have to have a literal miraculous conception; he just needs to be chosen in some way.  The goddess doesn’t have to be literal, and neither does the father–those stages can be represented quite loosely, or merged with others.

In my own writing, I’ve found that the best way to use the hero’s journey is to use it to understand what I’ve already written, and to trust my subconscious to fill in the next step.  In every book I read, or every movie I watch, I constantly pick it apart, looking for each of the steps.  This trains me to recognize the hero’s journey in my own work without having to break out the hammer or force things too much.

So how do you use the hero’s journey in your own work?  Do you find yourself hitting up all the points subconsciously, or do you use some other method?  Or do you hate the hero’s journey and try to avoid it altogether?  If you do hate it, I hope that my next few Trope Tuesday posts will help you to change your mind.

To Racha and back

So I just got back from Racha this afternoon.  It was a lot of fun!  Saw Ambrolauri, Oni, and Shovi, only 20 km from the Russian border near Ossetia.  Don’t worry, though, we were safe the whole time–though the home we stayed at had a wolf pelt hanging in the dining room!

This video should give you a pretty good idea what Racha is like.  It’s part of a new ad campaign, and it does a good job capturing the feel of rural life in the region, as well as the blend of modern and traditional that you find throughout Georgia.  The music is a combination of two famous Rachuli songs.

I went with a fellow TLG teacher from Slovakia named Tomas, and together we made a really good travel team.  We met last week on the TLG excursion to Kakheti and hit it off right away, probably because I’m a quarter Czech.  He speaks a bit of Russian, and I speak a bit of Georgian, so between the two of us we were able to manage quite well.

A rickety old bus crawling up the treacherous road from Kutaisi to Ambrolauri.
The Rioni river near the Racha-Imereti border.

We took the Kutaisi-Ambrolauri bus up along the Rioni river.  The road hasn’t been repaved since Soviet times, so it was quite treacherous, especially in places where the cliff had partially eroded. Spectacular views, though, especially once we crossed the border into Racha.

At Ambrolauri, we got out and hitched a ride to Oni.  The local police actually flagged down a passing tour bus full of Israelis and had them take us.  It was awkward at first, until we made friends with the guide–a veteran hitchhiker who has been everywhere from New Zealand to Mongolia to Turkey.  When traveling to a country with a foreign language, the five phrases she always tries to learn are:

  1. Please.
  2. Thank you.
  3. Hello.
  4. I want.
  5. I need.

Pretty sound advice.  The numbers should come pretty soon after that, along with “how much” and “what price.” “No” is definitely important too.

Oni, a beautiful Georgian town nestled inside the Caucasus Mountains.

At Oni, we spent a couple of hours shopping around the local homestays before settling on Family Hostel, a bed-and-breakfast type place with some really nice accommodations.  It was a little pricier than we were hoping, but was definitely worth it.  The food was great, and the dad showed us a bunch of interesting sites the next day.

The Rioni headwaters, up near Shovi. Russian North Ossetia lies on the other side of that mountain.
One of many mineral water springs in Racha.

We headed up to Shovi with another tourist from the hotel: an 80 year old Turkish man named Adnan.  He’s a big time hiker/trekker, and showed us a bunch of photos from his hike up Mount Ararat. He also made us Turkish coffee when we stopped for lunch up in the forest.

Shovi is an awesome rustic resort way up near the Russian border.  It’s on the other side of Mount Shota, which is about as high and as steep as Mount Timpanogos in Utah.  Maybe I’ll come back and hike it sometime.  Anyways, Shovi was pretty cool–definitely worth coming back for a camping trip, or perhaps for a couple of nights in the cabins.

The most interesting thing, though, was how many springs were in the region.  Seriously, we stopped almost half a dozen times at places just like the one pictured above, with so much water bubbling up that it almost seems like someone forgot to turn off the faucet.  It’s all natural, though, and comes out carbonated and infused with all sorts of minerals.  Tastes just like the sparkling mineral water from Borjomi or Nabeghlavi–the locals come up quite frequently to refill their jugs and bottles with the stuff.  You can drink it straight from the spring, without any need for purification.

Back at Oni, we had a fun time hanging out with the family and seeing the dad’s furniture-making shop.  They’re good people, and we were really fortunate to find them.  Showed them some photos of my family, and by the end, I think the mom had half a mind to set me up with a Georgian girl. To be honest, the longer I stay in this country, the more inclined I am to accept…

The next day, we took off with the 19 year-old son on the bus to Tbilisi.  He was heading out for his final exams–he’s hoping to study law and tourism, to come back and help the family business.  We came down past Shaori Lake through Tkbuli.  One of the back tires blew out near the Kutaisi-Tbilisi road, but we made it out in one piece. Tomas continued up toward Zestaponi, while I got out to catch a bus heading back to Kutaisi.

Four months ago, I would have felt totally lost, but I’ve been around Georgia so much by now that it was a piece of cake.  Went into town for some lunch, then came back for a much-needed shower.

So that was the trip!  It was amazing–I definitely recommend heading up that way for anyone who has a chance.  There’s a lot of beautiful country up this way, as well as some genuinely good people.  The best sights in Georgia can be a little hidden, and Racha is full of them.

Last day of school

So today was the last day of school in Georgia, with all of the craziness that that entails.  It was kind of sad to say goodbye, even though I’ll probably be coming back to the same school in September.  In the meantime, I’m going to miss being a rockstar to all the 7-12 year olds and giving them high fives after class and in the hallways.

I haven’t posted much about my teaching experience, but it’s generally been positive, though not without its ups and downs.  I’ve met a lot of great people, taught a lot of great kids, and lived in a culture very different from my own.  I’m not sure how I’ve grown yet, or what I’ve learned from the experience, but it isn’t over–I’ll be back after the summer, for a least one more semester.

I asked to be placed in the same school again, though I’ll be changing homestay families.  If they can’t find another family in this district, I asked to be placed in a village near Kutaisi.  It’s impossible at this point to say what will happen, though, and things in this country tend to change without notice.

When I came to Georgia, my goals were to find out if I could balance teaching English with my writing career, to get some useful teaching experience, and to gain some cultural exposure that would enhance my writing.  On all three counts, I think I’ve had success.

My writing productivity has gone down  slightly since coming out here, but I think that has more to do with the homestay and finding a good, quiet place to write.  I’m still writing every day, just 1.5k words instead of 2.5k.  Teaching English isn’t the problem–in fact, it’s probably one of the best careers for aspiring writers, just so long as you know your creative process and have a modicum of self-discipline.  I’ll probably do another post on that later.

As far as teaching experience, I don’t know how much my time here in Georgia is going to help my resume, but it has helped me to have a bit more confidence when it comes to teaching.  I still feel like there’s a lot of room for professional improvement, though, and it’s going to be difficult to get that here.  I like Georgia, though, so I’ll be happy to come back.  If anything, I figure one year looks better on a resume than six months.

And as for cultural exposure, coming out here was definitely a good move.  Living in a developing country changes your perspective in a lot of interesting ways, and Georgia is so different from America that I’m sure I’ll be talking about it for years to come.  How all of this will affect my writing, I don’t exactly know, but I’m sure it will only enhance it.

So yeah, that’s been my experience so far.  The last day of school was kind of bittersweet, but I’m definitely looking forward to coming back!

Trope Tuesday: Deus Ex Machina

God from the machine. Literally.

This one is by request.  A Deus Ex Machina, or “God from the Machine” ending, is basically when the author writes himself into a corner and pulls something out of his butt to resolve the story.

The term comes from ancient Greek theater, which often employed this technique–probably because the audience was known to get violent when the show didn’t end the way they wanted it to.  Basically, a crane–the “machina,” or machine–would lower an actor playing the role of one of the gods–the “deus”–who would then resolve everything and tie up all the loose ends without the heroes having to do anything.

Sound unsatisfying?  Yeah, I think so too.  That’s why it’s often used as a derogatory term, much like Mary Sue.  HOWEVER, it can be done well.  As always, your mileage may vary, but here are some examples that pull it off:

WARNING! SPOILERS!

  • Watership Down:  A girl saves Hazel from her cat.  Satisfying because it makes sense from the girl’s point of view, and humanizes the story by showing that it really does take place in our world.
  • The Hobbit:  The eagles arrive out of nowhere to turn the tide of the Battle of Five Armies just at the critical moment.  Satisfying because it’s a cavalry ending as well, though some fans don’t like it.
  • Lord of the Rings:  Again, the eagles swoop down and save the day, this time by rescuing Frodo and Sam from the fires of Mount Doom.  Satisfying because after coming this far, we really don’t want a downer ending.
  • Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone:  Harry is saved by his mother’s love.  Satisfying because of the symbolism and the power of love.
  • Lord of the Flies: Just as the boys are about to kill each other, a military ship arrives out of nowhere and rescues them.  Again, satisfying because of the symbolism, as well as the collective “what have I done” moment.
  • Schlock Mercenary:  Many, many occasions.  Satisfying because it’s brilliantly lampshaded.
  • Monty Python and the Holy Grail: “…the animator had a fatal heart attack!  The cartoon peril was no more!”
  • Raiders of the Lost Ark:  The Nazis capture Indiana Jones and get the Ark of the Covenant, but when they open it, a supernatural force kills them all.  Satisfying because it squares with Indy’s general MO and his pattern of spectacular failures.
  • The War of the Worlds:  The humans are utterly powerless to stop the aliens, but they all die off from germs.  Satisfying because of the underlying message.

Does this mean that it’s a good idea to write off any criticism that your own work suffers from a Deus Ex Machina?  Probably not.  This is one of those things that readers tend not to notice when it’s done well.  If your readers notice it, chances are that something is broken.

As you might guess, there’s a lot of gray area as to what constitutes a Deus Ex Machina, and what is actually something else.  Generally, if the ending is properly foreshadowed, either by a Chekov’s Gun or by good character development, it’s not a Deus Ex.  The foreshadowing removes the “out of nowhere” aspect that readers find so unsatisfying.

Foreshadowing is one way to fix a Deus Ex Machina.  Another way is to toss out the ending and rewrite it from scratch, starting at the point where hero starts getting sidelined.  According to Dan Wells’ seven point story structure, the hero should typically spend the first half of the story reacting to the villain, and the second half getting the villain to react to him.

There are lots of other ways to fix a Deus Ex Machina, but those are probably the biggest ones.  If you have any other suggestions, by all means, suggest away.

The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara

June, 1863.  In a bid to destroy the Army of the Potomac, Robert E. Lee invades Pennsylvania with an army of 70,000 men.  Using the mountains to screen his movements, he advances toward Harrisburg, fully expecting to secure a victory that will end the American Civil War.

But two weeks into the campaign, Stuart’s cavalry still hasn’t reported back, leaving the Confederate army blind.  Deep in enemy territory, with reports of the Union advance beginning to trickle in, Lee moves his forces to converge on a small town named Gettysburg.

In the titanic clash that follows, friend will fight against brother, generals will knowingly send thousands of men to their deaths, and the fate of the United States of America will lie in the hands of farmers and mountain men, immigrants, West Point classmates, and a New England professor.

This book is awesome.  Epic, in the best and truest sense of the word.  I’m not a civil war buff, but it reduced me to tears.  The scope is tremendous, and yet at the same time the characters feel like real people.

For some, like Chamberlain, the war is about slavery and equality–something that disturbs him when he comes across a black man for the first time.  For others, it’s about states’ rights and self-government.  But for most everybody else–including Robert E. Lee–it’s about a myriad of other things, like honor, duty to country, boredom, a desire to prove one’s manhood, and a hunger to be part of something greater.

What’s remarkable is how so many good people, who more often than not respect the opposing side and hold them in the highest regard, end up getting swept into such a horrific and bloody battle.  No one, especially the generals, have the power to prevent any of it–all they can do is leave it in the hands of God.  And the tragedy of it all is summed up so perfectly in the film rendition of this book, when General Armistead reaches the high-water mark of the Confederacy and falls, only to hear that his friend and classmate on the Union side, General Hancock, has fallen too (skip to 23:15):

“Not both of us!  Not all of us!  Please, God!”

I’ve been to Gettysburg several times, and stood on the ground where the most critical parts of the battle were decided.  And yet, I feel that living as an expat on  the other side of the world has given me a much greater appreciation of my country’s history.  Perhaps that’s one of the reasons why this book was so moving to me at this time.

Here are some of my favorite quotes:

He was a man to depend  on, and there was this truth about war: it taught you the men you could depend on.

According to the now retired General Schwarzkopf, The Killer Angels is “the best and most realistic novel about war that I have ever read.” You really get a sense of what it’s like to be in command–what it’s like to depend on the actions of your men, and what goes through your mind as you lead them.  The only other novel I’ve read that comes close to capturing that is Ender’s Game.

If the war goes on–and it will, it will–what else can we do but go on?  It is the same question forever, what else can we do?  If they fight, we will fight with them.  And does it matter after all who wins?  Was that ever really the question?  Will God ask that question, in the end?”

Robert E. Lee’s words after the Confederate defeat on the third day.  There is, of course, some criticism about how much artistic license Michael Shaara took in portraying the central historical figures.  Regardless, this novel gave me a much greater respect for Lee and his men.  There are no “bad guys” in this book–and therein lies the heart of the tragedy.

In the presence of real tragedy you feel neither pain nor joy nor hatred, only a sense of enormous space and time suspended, the great doors open to black eternity, the rising across the terrible field of that last  enormous, unanswerable question.

Well put.  I’ve never experienced any tragedy on the scale of the American Civil War, but I do know what it’s like to lose family and loved ones, and this captured a bit of that for me.  I can only imagine what it must be like to experience the tragedy of war.

This novel is a classic.  If you have any interest in American history, it is absolutely a must-read.  And even if you don’t, if you enjoy reading stories about war, whether modern, historical, or fantasy, you will almost certainly enjoy this book.

My Muse

A long time ago, I did a whimsical post about my muse and what she is like.  Imagine my surprise when I found a picture of her on Deviant Art!

I had a lot of fun with that post, so I thought I’d revisit it.  Enjoy!


Young Universe by *DestinyBlue on deviantART
My muse is about fifteen years younger than me and three thousand years older. She listens to my philosophical dabblings like a younger sister, but is a lot closer to the pulse and rhythm of this world than I have ever been.

She has a soft spot for Homer and the old Greek epics (I suppose that’s right around the time when she got her start at being a muse), but she’s been deeply in love with space adventures since the days of Wells, Burroughs, and Heinlein. Her love of the stars must have started back in the days of the Greeks and Romans, because that’s the only thing that’s ever on her mind. She’s definitely a night owl and I think she spends her nights stargazing while I’m asleep.

In contrast to my blunt, forward, and sometimes overly-aggressive manner, she doesn’t really speak to me unless she knows that I’m listening. She doesn’t slap me upside the head to get me working, and she usually doesn’t come to me until I’ve been slaving away for a good long while. If I choose not to listen to her, she shrugs and walks away without an argument.

As much as I love to toy with ideas, she likes to touch, taste, see, and smell things directly with her own senses. She’s the kind of person who would take off her shoes to walk barefoot in the grass, even if it makes her late to where she’s going. She’s easily distracted and she never really lets me know where she’s going until we get there. However, if I listen and humbly follow her, she always leads me someplace worthwhile.

My muse is very mischievous. Her favorite thing is to give me random flashes of inspiration when I’m in the middle of something else. I can’t tell you how many crazy ideas I’ve had while driving on the highway, or taking a class, or working a mind-numbing job. She teases me, too–if I don’t write everything down in the moment of inspiration, she won’t tell me again until I fall on my knees and beg her.

My muse looks young and innocent, but don’t be deceived. She’s a wanderer who isn’t likely to settle down anytime soon. Blood, violence, battle, and death excite her. She gleefully urges me to torture and confuse my characters as much as I can. Still, deep down, I think she wants the good to win out in the end, and the evil to be revealed for what it really is.

I have no idea why she chose me out of all the writers out there, but she’s been with me long as I can remember. Whatever I do and wherever I go, I know she’ll always be there.

Ray Bradbury, 1920-2012

Ray Bradbury, 1920-2012

Wow.  Ray Bradbury, one of the greatest writers of our time, just passed away at the age of 91.  The news is affecting me a lot more than I thought it would.

My first exposure to Bradbury’s work came in seventh grade, when I read Farenheit 451 as part of the required summer reading.  Most of the books I read in middle school and high school were quite forgettable, but that one stuck with me, especially the scene with the professors scholars sitting around homeless in front of the fire.

Later in college, when I was just starting to find my footing as a writer, I read Zen and the Art of Writing, and it had quite a positive impact while I was still largely insecure about my own writing.  The most memorable piece of advice I gleaned from it was to write about the stuff that really moved me–to infuse all my writing with passion, and not give a damn about those who told me otherwise.  That helped give me the strength to tell the stories that I love, which is now a huge part of everything I do.

My favorite Bradbury work is his collection The Martian Chronicles.  The stories in that book are just amazing, and infused to the core with passion.  I remember breathlessly reading the one about the astronauts who land on Mars, only to find a beautiful Ohio village populated with all of the friends and family that they’d left behind.  Wow.

Whenever I pick up a Bradbury story, it’s like having this little old man clasp his hands on my shoulders and, with a gleam in his eye, shake me until I’m sure I’ll never forget it.  Every story is like a roller coaster, with stunning heights, beautiful views, and drops that make you scream for your life.  It’s awesome.

It brings tears to my eyes to know that he’s gone, but they’re bittersweet tears of the best kind.  The man had a rich, full life, and lived to see his work appreciated for how great it truly is.  At 27 novels and over 600 short stories, with more than 8 million copies in print in at least 36 languages, he has truly left us a great wealth of literature.  Some mourn that the world is a poorer place because of his passing, but I rejoice for how rich the world is because he lived at all.

Goodbye, Ray Bradbury.  Your stories truly changed the world.

Trope Tuesday: Dreaming of Things to Come

When a character in a story has a dream, there’s almost certainly a reason for it.  If it’s not thrown in just to show how scarred or tortured he is (or alternately, how repressed he is), chances are good he’s dreaming of things to come.

I’m a huge fan of this trope, as you may be able to tell if you’ve read any of my books.  It’s a special form of foreshadowing that lends a mystical, otherworldly flavor.  It’s also something that we can relate to: how often have you had a dream that was so powerful, so moving, that it just had to mean something?

When played straight, this trope often implies some sort of all-seeing being who sent the dream on purpose.  However, this doesn’t have to be the case.  I often find it much more satisfying when we don’t know where the dream came from.  It’s very easy to shatter the sense of wonder by over-explaining things, especially when it comes to the dream world.

Of course, the character doesn’t just have to dream of things to come to capture that sense of wonder.  They can also dream of times gone by, discovering something previously unknown about the past, or dream of the truth, working through a previously unsolvable problem in their sleep.  The mystical, otherworldly flavor still holds true for all of them.

As you might expect, this is a fairly common trope in fantasy.  Some prominent examples include:

  • Lord of the Rings
  • The Silmarillion
  • A Game of Thrones
  • The Black Cauldron
  • American Gods
  • Most of the Redwall books
  • Dragonsflight
  • Watership down

Why is so popular?  Even though dreaming is such a common, universal experience, it’s still shrouded in mystery.  It resonates deeply with us because we can all relate to it, and at the same time it opens all sorts of windows into the fantastic because there is so little we understand.

Like I said before, this is sort of a pet trope for me.  Consciously or not, I tend to throw in at least one dream sequence in every book I write.  It seems to have worked pretty well so far, so I don’t think I’ll be changing that anytime soon.

Trope Tuesday: Slap Slap Kiss

There aren't enough scoundrels in your life.

Unless you have an unhealthy aversion to kissing books, you’re probably familiar with Slap Slap Kiss.  It’s common in genre romance, but you’ll often find it in science fiction & fantasy too.  When done well, it’s a great way to make sparks fly, but when done poorly…I think you can fill in the rest.

The basic underlying concept is that love and hate are just two sides of the same coin.  Both involve strong feelings for another person, the kind that drive you crazy and make it hard to think straight.  According to this theory, it’s a lot easier to fall in love with someone you hate than to fall in love with someone you don’t really care about.  And once you fall in love, the rest is easy. <snark!>

Kiss Kiss Slap is the Tsundere’s standard MO.  An effective way to end the will they or won’t they? phase, though the trope is so common that you can spot it almost as soon as the slapping starts (Dinosaur Comics has a good commentary on that).  Sometimes happens in conjunction with Foe Yay, though the couple doesn’t have to start out as sworn enemies.  The kiss itself is usually one of those “lovely trick[s] designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.” When set up properly, is often accompanied by a Love Epiphany.

Of course, it’s possible to go too far.  There’s a fine line between “all’s fair” and kicking the dog, and if you cross it…good luck.  Alternately, if the slapping doesn’t cross the line, but the kiss doesn’t live up to expectations, it’s also going to fall flat.  And if the main reason you invoke this trope is because the plot demands it…let’s just say, you’re doing it wrong.

In general, I think it’s important to keep the following in mind:

  • The attraction needs to be properly foreshadowed.  If the characters start slapping each other without even a hint of sexual tension first, no amount of backpedaling is going to make up for it.
  • Neither of the characters should tear each other down.  There’s a big difference between a slap and a punch (and a roundhouse kick, for that matter).  Even though the characters may abuse each other, they have to have at least some mutual respect.  After all, Han still called Leia “your highness,” and Leia still complimented Han on his “bucket of bolts” (albeit sarcastically).  Once the respect is gone, so is any hint of romance.
  • The kiss needs to be proportional to the slap.  Lots of slap with an innocent little peck is going to feel anticlimactic, while a tap on the chin with a giant make out moment immediately afterward is going to feel melodramatic.  The two need to be balanced in order for the trope to work.
  • The couple should have at least something in common. “Opposites attract” is often just an excuse for shoddy character development.  In real life, if the two people don’t have at least something in common, value-wise and personality-wise, the romance is pretty much doomed to fail.  As always, however, Your Mileage May Vary.

Finally, even though there are a lot of reasons to hate this trope, there’s a reason we keep coming back to it.  What that reason is exactly, I can’t say, but I know it when I see it.  After all, you really shouldn’t over analyze some things.  Like this video:

I think my work here is done.  What sayest thou?