Storms Both Real and Imaginary: Sandy, Star Wars, and Disney

I will talk about NaNoWriMo tomorrow.

I have been finding it hard to focus as I, along with most of America, wait to hear from friends, family, and colleagues who were in the path of superstorm Sandy. I quickly grew tired of the apparently irresistible term "Frankenstorm" as well as the political candidates and leaders showing us their best and their worst as they either sought political advantage or shut up and did their jobs/got out of the way.

So it was that I -- along with most of the internet -- were primed for a fight when news broke that Disney was buying Lucasfilm in toto and planning three new Star Wars movies.

Cue rending of Star Wars tee shirts and gnashing of nerd teeth.

(Stop that, it's bad for your teeth!)

The rage was palpable on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, and elsewhere. At one point, the top five subjects being discussed on Twitter were Star Wars or Disney related, pushing the hurricane off the national list. This may or may not have been a bad thing, considering the fact that knee-jerk platitudes don't lower flood waters or light homes.

It was something else to talk about that allowed our existential dread some imaginary place to go and hide. T'were it ever so with Science Fiction. So I sent money to the Red Cross and talked about Star Wars. 

I think it might've been better that way...

Full Disclosure: I think this is a Good Thing. Star Wars has new hope. Disney is excellent at managing franchises and is well suited to stage manage the revival of Star Wars just as they did with the Muppets and Marvel.

(Incidentally, I think this means the Mouse has Indiana Jones now too. Next up, Indiana Jones V: The Nathan Fillian reboot? Let's make that happen, Internet!)

Many disagree with me.

While I cannot hope to counter all of the arguments, nor do I disagree with all of them, these are the ones that I had lobbed at me most often yesterday, along with my responses:

This is awful because...
It's the worst thing ever!
I can't respond to hyperbole. Give me a reason.

We can't trust Disney with the fate of the franchise!
You mean you trusted Lucas with the fate of the franchise? Really?

They're just buying it to cash in!
Better than a decade of Lucas cashing out. Seriously, take it from someone who had a room full of Star Wars toys, bedding, curtains, and miscellaneous paraphernalia, and has two nephews with even more of it: nothing has happened since 1977 that wasn't profit-driven. When they started introducing ships and characters just to make toys out of them (A-wings and B-wing fighters, anyone?) Sorry to burst your bubble, but movie making is and always has been a business. You weren't really paying attention when you watched Spaceballs, were you?

Now that they have The Muppets, Marvel, Indiana Jones, and Star Wars, they OWN MY CHILDHOOD!
Hard to argue with. If they bought Dungeons & Dragons and my old typewriter, I'd be contractually obligated to wear Mickey Ears at all times. That said, I don't necessarily agree that this is a bad thing if it means the things I loved as a kid remain viable for my nephews to love in turn.

They'll ruin the old movies!
If you've seen Lucas's endless special editions and re-edits and prequels and you are still making this argument... I don't know what to say to you.

The hero was Darth Vader and he's dead, so there's nothing left to make movies about.
Most cogent argument I've heard so far. And I strenuously disagree on several points. First, there are a half hundred post-Jedi novels that argue otherwise. Some of them are quite good. Also, it's an entire universe, you don't think there are other things happening that we can tell stories about?

Also, no matter what Lucas tells you, Vader wasn't the hero, he was the protagonist. There's a difference. Luke was the hero of episodes IV - VI and Ben Kenobi was the hero of episodes II and III. Episode I was a figment of your imagination. (Waves hand)

They'll have no respect for the franchise!
Remember how much it sucked when Disney bought Marvel and gave us almost a dozen awesome super hero movies, culminating in The Avengers? Gosh, that was awful, wasn't it?

By the way, go sign this petition I created. We'll be here when you get back...
Disney: Please Hire Joss Whedon to Direct a Star Wars Film that Doesn't Suck
Back? Good. Share it with your friends. Seriously. What could it hurt?

They'll make it (shudder) cute!
Everyone wearing a "Wookie the Chew" tee shirt or who shared a link or image from James Hance's site has to sit down now. I think that might be everyone. If there's anyone left, please remember that you are defending the aesthetic honor of the man who gave us Ewoks and Jar Jar Binks. 

Seriously, though, go buy yourself a Wookie the Chew tee shirt. That guy is aces.

But now there will be Mickey-themed Star Wars everything!
I took this photo two years ago. Your argument is invalid.



Here’s my prediction: There will be three new Star Wars movies. They will not be as good as the ones we saw as kids. That’s not really possible because those movies aren’t as good as the ones we saw as kids anymore either. (Looking at you, George.)

Because Disney is pretty good at franchise management, they will more than likely be competently written and directed. They will at least have dialogue that doesn't make your hair melt. They will have stories that kinda, sorta make sense. They might even be quotable. They will sell lots of new toys and there will be more rides at the theme parks.

We will survive. So will Star Wars.

We will probably pay our money to go see them for the novelty of seeing well-written, competently-directed Star Wars movies in the modern era. Lucas will finally have to stop screwing around with (and screwing up) the old movies. If nothing else, and if only because the Mouse never turned down a chance to sell us something, we will probably finally get to see the original theatrical releases on Blue Ray might finally see a re-release of the original theatrical movies on Blue Ray (if they can negotiate a deal with Fox, which holds the distribution rights in perpetuity).

In all, it sounds like a good thing to me.

In the meantime, there was this a hurricane that came ashore and punched in America's most populous region in the teeth. People are homeless, cold, and it will take time and money and a national effort to clean up and recover.

The people of the East Coast don't need our tweets as much as our more concrete efforts to help. Here is an excellent list of organizations that are already on the ground in the hurricane zone, helping our fellow countrymen put the pieces back together.

How about we release some pent-up some nerd energy in that direction...
Sandy's Aftermath: How You Can Help(via NBC news)

10 Tips to Get from Idea to Finished Novel (updated): NaNoWriMo

For all those who are warming up to run the NaNoWriMo marathon, here's my annual list of 10 things that I personally try to keep in mind as I turn the idea I scribbled on a napkin into that thing we call a book.

There are ten of them, which makes a handy size for a list.

Ten Tips to Get From Idea to Finished Novel
1. Be interested in your story. 

Writing a novel is a relationship between you and a story. Before you spend hundreds of hours sitting in a chair stringing words together to tell that story, you'd better darn well be sure it's worth the commitment or it will all end in tears.

2. Feed your brain. 

Your brain generates stories from the stuff you cram in there. Give it the fodder it needs to make new and interesting stories and well fleshed-out characters. Ask questions. Pay attention to the world around you. Everything is research. Pay attention. Take notes and snapshots. You never know when you'll need that story about the kid who accidentally ordered a Harrier fighter jet on eBay, or the chap that put lasers on sharks just to prove he could.

3. Ideas are not sacred. 

Don't get so attached to an idea that you're unwilling to allow it to evolve. A story idea is less like the directions from a GPS and more like finding your way through a new city with written directions scrawled on the back of a coffee-stained napkin.

4. Write now; edit later. 

On the first draft, it's your job to put your butt in the chair and put the story on the page. The chair is the only part that's optional. Editing is inevitable, but it is a stage of its own that can wait until later. Your initial goal is to get the story out of your head; everything else follows that.

5. Take small bites. 

A big idea can choke you if you try to eat it all at once. A big idea can choke you if you try to eat it all at once. Writing anything that's as large and complex as the average novel is a lot like the old adage about eating an elephant: Start at one end and take it one bite at a time.

6. Make stuff up. 

Research can be an addictive drug. It's easy to get so wrapped up in the intriguing minutiae of your subject matter that you forget to write a book about it. If it ever gets shelved in a library or bookstore, your novel will be in the fiction section, this gives you license to fake it... within reason, of course.

7. Be a story hoarder.

Never throw anything away. Not everything you create while writing will fit the story you're working on. Hang on to those tidbits and trimmings for later use in this or another story. Some of my favorite odd moments become short stories, the rest go back in the hopper for the next go-round.

8. Step away from the television and/or the Internet.

That might sound odd coming from me, but these mediums are specifically designed to catch your attention and hold it. I've recently begun doing my writing on a computer that is isolated from the internet to combat this. My writing output tripled when we got rid of TV and as a bonus we saved a lot of money each month.

9. Use your own words.

Write with the vocabulary you have. Put away the thesaurus, it's just slowing you down and making you feel self-conscious. Finding your authorial "voice" is about telling the story the way you tell it, not the way Roget would tell it. Let your vocabulary grow organically on its own and in a way that is unique to you as you research and read. Language is a fragile thing and it will break if you try to force it.

10. Finish. 

Writing may make you a writer, but only finishing will make you a novelist. You have to finish the story, even if you have to keep writing into December and January. The inability to write a complete novel in a month doesn't make you a bad writer. Quite the contrary, in fact. 50,000 words isn't a complete novel anyway. An unfinished novel is worth its weight in paper. Keep going until you get to type "The End".  

It pains me somewhat that I can't finish that list with the words "And it's as simple as that".  It's not simple. It's work, this thing that we do. And if you learn nothing else from participating in NaNoWriMo, it should be that.

Writing is hard. Breathing life into the inanimate is supposed to be hard. Don't beat yourself up when you find that it isn't easy.  

However you choose to proceed and whether you reach November 30th with 50,000 words in the kitty or not, you will have learned something, maybe even accomplished something. I will be here on the sidelines, waving a banner and cheering you on. Revel in the words you are putting on the page. Try something that scares you. Read the things being shared by your compatriots if you can find the time. Celebrate the writing. Have fun.

Just remember, the deadline is imaginary, the prizes are fake, but the book you are trying to write can be real.

Best of luck to you all!

-Scott

Advice About Advice: Mind the expiration dates.

Yes, I'm giving advice about advice again. The thunder of approaching typewriters heralds the word avalanche known as NaNoWriMo and the explosion of writing advice posts on every site that even pretends to cater to writers.

I've been fighting a particularly nasty chest cold  recently, so about all I've been up for is reading and sorting through the books on my shelves. The unfortunate fact is that my library has as many books stacked on the floors as it does on the shelves. Which means (gulp) culling the herd.*

I'm sorry, but some of you will just have to go. Don't worry, we'll find new homes for you in the country where you can gambol and play...

In case it hasn't become clear in the past, there are a lot of books on my shelves about the craft of writing and what purport to be maps showing shortcuts through the labyrinth of publishing. Some of them are timeless. Tomes of inspiration that will never die. However, many, if not most of them are well past their expiration date.

Some of them expired before they hit the shelf. It's just that kind of industry these days.

It seems that almost every author of note from Norman Mailer to Ray Bradbury to Stephen King, eventually writes a memoir of the craft, which tracks their rise from being 'That weird kid**' to a giant in a world of words. Nearly all of these books are split about evenly between memoir and advice for new writers.

We like to think that if we follow in the footsteps of the great and the good, that we too can apply their formula and achieve success. That's certainly the conceit of most writing guides. The problem is that the industry that spat out most of the greats either no longer exists or is teetering on the brink of extinction.

As I face the decision on which of these many books to keep and which to discard, in the end it will come down -- as it always does -- to the writing. Unless you have a time machine handy, business and publishing advice from even as late as the 1990's and early 00's is essentially useless. Only the writing advice is timeless.

This is a theme I return to time and again. Just the other day, I talked about how much I liked Neil Gaiman's list of writing rules because it focused almost entirely on the writing. In order to be a writer, Gaiman tells us, you have to write something, and you have to keep writing it until it's finished. This is important because that's the only advice that will outlast the expiration date of all other advice.

Unless it's also a compelling memoir and worth keeping for that fact alone, any writing guide that doesn't boil down to this very simple concept goes in the Goodwill pile.

----

* I would like to apologize in advance to anyone in the Puget Sound region who is startled by the whoop of joy originating from my wife's location wherever she happens to be when she reads that sentence.

** As much as I try to keep away from the idea that there's some sort of universal "writer lifestyle" that we all should aspire to, there's a nearly insurmountable pile of evidence that writers tend to arise from the ranks of "that weird kid".

This is not a drill: A Nano-Memo from the Secretary

For unofficial use only.

Open Memo from the Department of Literary Security

To: All Departments & Interested Parties

RE: Literary Alert Level Tango

We have been monitoring internet traffic on sites frequented by wordsmiths, and literary agents provacateurs from the Office of Letters & Light and are reporting an uptick in chatter related to writing nonstop for a month and the hoarding of items related to same. 

We can only conclude that a Significant Word-Count Event (SWCE) is imminent.

Pending a presidential declaration of a state of emergency (The White House and FEMA is not returning our calls as of this writing) all writers are advised to shelter in place or seek out the nearest library or coffee shop.

During the last SWCE, over 3 billion words erupted from the nation's writers and worldwide shortages of coffee, pastries, and adjectives were reported.

This is not a drill.

During moments of extreme literary unrest, the department advises that it can take up to thirty (30) days for emergency supplies to reach affected areas. All writers are advised to stock up on necessary supplies and foodstuffs sufficient to sustain life and word counts unaided for thirty (30) days without resupply. 

Our experts have prepared the following list of suggested supplies for all writers:

1. A comfy place to sit or stand in a place conducive to surviving 30 unbroken days of writing.
2. Coffee, tea, hot cocoa, or coffee.
3. Sustainable levels of baked goods.
4. Vegetables for when you are feeling guilty for trying to survive entirely on items 2 and 3.
5. Writing implements to fit your age, milieu, or chosen level of pretense.
6. Ink for pens, printers, copiers, goose quills (see item #5).
7. Phone numbers of out-of-area contacts willing to take late-night phone calls when you are stuck, overwhelmed, or procrastinating.
8. A padlock to secure the off-switch for the internet for most of the duration of the emergency.
9. A supportive and/or tolerant spouse, family member, roommate, significant other, good friend, complete stranger you thought you knew but turned out you didn't but who gives surprisingly good advice on dialogue.
10. A sense of humor.

Additional items, medications, &c. may be added as needed for the individual. Good luck and may the spirit of those who came before guide you in this time of trial.

The department will monitor the situation and report developments via the usual channels as events warrant.

See you in December.

Regards, etc.

Scott W. Perkins

Secretary of Literary Security 

(Presidential appointment and congressional confirmation pending)

The Literary Brain: The Neuroscience of Stories

It is not too much to say that I really like The Hobbit. Somewhere in my house is my original copy of the book. A ratty paperback that is water-warped and ragged from being carried to school in opposition of parental threats, stolen and kicked around by bullies on a playground, and tossed in countless garbage cans by teachers who thought they knew better about literature. (Yes, really.) It was even dropped in the Colorado River at the bottom of the Grand Canyon and baked dry in the hot Arizona sun. The spine has long ago been replaced by duct tape and there are over forty tick marks on the inside of the back cover, a younger self's record of reading Tolkien's story of a mousy man turned hero.

This is not about the upcoming movies or even about the book. This is about the stories that consume us and the strange neurochemistry of storytelling.

On a recent episode of Mythbusters (currently available for watching online), where the team did some interesting experiments with an FMRI, seeking to understand whether or not we really only use 10% of our brain. They hooked one of the team up to various machines and had him do math problems and puzzles and tell stories. Nothing they did fired more parts of the brain at once than telling a story.

I wish they had measured while reading a story, but there's only so much you can fit into the time constraints of a TV show.

Thankfully, we don't have to rely on the Mythbusters for all of our scientific data about brain activity and stories. At Michigan State University, there's a project underway to understand the state of mind that leads me and others to get immersed in that world of words, that book that I read differently than all others before it, and possibly since.  It's about what it is about some books that so grab us that we Read Them Differently.

There are some books that just suck you in to their worlds. Some characters that come to us at a crucial time in our development as people and consume us whole. In one big literary gulp, we go down the word gullet, the opinions of teachers, parents, and peers be damned.  For me it was the Hobbit and for others Pride & Prejudice, but whatever your poison, be it Harry Potter or Twilight, the effect is the same.

Recently, researchers have been trying to pinpoint how this works, when and how the story can overtake everything else by monitoring the brain activity of people as they read. And while they have learned a thing or two about the immersive nature of a great book, the most interesting things they've found -- as least for me -- is about the obsessive nature of the reader and the way that a brain falls into a story and doesn't want to come out.

We should all be so lucky as to tell that kind of story.

Here's an interview with Michigan State Professor Natalie Phillips, who is a bit obsessive about Jane Austen via NPR.

Writing Guides:: How many rules do we really need?

It is almost November and you know what that means: Writing advice season is about to begin.  It seems to get here earlier every year. The stores are already stocking up with new keyboards and copies of Bird by Bird.  The interwebs are humming with tweets tagged #amwriting and Pinterest boards are filling up with pictures of typewriters and inspirational quotes, some of which I created.

And the lists. Oh my goodness, the lists!

This morning, a friend sent me a link to Neil Gaiman's "8 Rules of writing" over at the Brainpickings blog. I read them because I can't resist that sort of thing, and he entered my brain and wandered the halls, flipping light switches, sliding down stair railings, and poking through the cupboards until he came to the boiler room where all the rest of the "Rules of Writing" have been camping out.

Neil's list was probably greeted at the door by Elmore Leonard's "10 Rules" and introduced around the room by Zadie Smith's "10 Rules" before taking down a copy of Stephen King's "On Writing" and settling in for a nice nap.

I hear there's a great poker game down there on Sunday nights, but they don't invite me.

Writing advice in list form may or may not have begun with Elmore Leonard's famous piece in the New York Times, but he heralded the explosion of such lists.

You would not believe how many lists there are in that tiny room. I'm not even sure myself. Most of them have more to do with surviving life as a writer than how to put words on a page, which is part of what makes Neil's list so commendable -- every item on the list is about writing.  Neil's entire list boils down to "Why are you looking for permission from me? Get out there and write something!"

Not all of them do, which is a problem in my view.

For one thing, lists are deceptive, slippery little beasts. Reading them feels like learning, as though by following the steps of other more successful writers their success will rub off on us. And creating them feels good and making tick marks next to the items is weirdly addictive. We all make to-do lists sometimes just to have the satisfaction of checking things off. I do it all the time and so do you.

Yes you do; don't lie to a blog post.

Everyone does it. Why? Because it gives us the strange illusion of accomplishing something whether we have or not. And writers make it worse because we are so prone to doing the same thing with other people's lists!

Who else does that?

And that is the danger of the many and multiplying lists, even those by authors we like or admire. Reading about writing gives us a false sense of accomplishment. Much like research and blogging, it can give us something to do instead of writing that still feels like we're accomplishing something. I hear people around me pitch list-making as an organizational tool, but I suspect that for most writers at least it's really a procrastination tool.

Which plays handily into the internet's twofold mission to facilitate list-making and disseminate pornography. Procrastination and self-gratification.

At risk of undercutting my own point, I will close with a list of my own.

SCOTT'S THREE RULES FOR WRITING A NOVEL 

1. Apply butt to chair.
2. Apply words to page.
3. The chair is optional.

Whether you are trying NaNoWriMo for the first time, or if you're on your tenth novel, that's all you need. I've said this several times here and elsewhere, but it bears repeating: any list or advice book that does not boil down to "Writers aren't writers if they don't write something" is bad advice on the face of it.