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Death Bringing Your Story to Life

9/26/2012

1 Comment

 
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As an author, you need to realize the single most important thing death does for your writing.

We'll get to that in a second. But first... 

The other day, Father and I shared a special bonding experience. I'd hinted and begged and finally dragged him into taking me to see the Expendables 2 -- buildings exploding, cars flipping, guns roaring out bullets, Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Bruce Willis, Chuck Norris, and....yeah. The only reason I would ever consider seeing a movie like this.

Right up there. Top right corner, people. 

Hi, Liam. (He was really looking in his scope for me, but my camouflage skills are too adept. See that rock on the top left? That's me).

 So we made it a special day. Purchased tickets. Got our popcorn. Sped along into the theater with Dad in my wake, shoving in, to my genuinely angered contempt, the top of the popcorn bag, which everyone knows is the butteriest. 

We get in the theater and find we have it entirely to ourselves. Good. So take Dad's hand, jitter around in my seat in anticipation, and then proceed to commentate, both comically and authentically, the whole movie with him. (If you don't want spoilers for this film, read no further).

The beginning had a great start. Because Liam (AKA, "Billy the Kid") totally BOOMED his bullets and BANGED his extra-attractive sniper rifle atop cliff after cliff as I whooped my approval, uttering, with no sheam I might add, phrases such as "YEAH. This is a GREAT movie. This is DEFINITELY a buy." and "I want to hug him so bad right now."
(Dad, referring to the female Liam was speaking to: "She does too.")

But then, the unthinkable happened. 

Bad Guy: "Drop your weapons or he dies."
 Liam: "Don't do it, sir. You don't owe me anything!" 
*Hits Liam. Shea's heart bangs into her stomach*

Liam: *Falls to his knees after being hit* "I'm sorry, sir." 
*Good guys drop their weapons. Captors about to put him in the helicopter.*
Bad Guy: "Are you afraid of me?"
 Liam: "No. I'm not afraid of you!" 
Bad Guy: "You should be." 
*stabs him. Shea's entire body freezes and silence reverberates in her numbed ears. The elation is wiped from her existence, the room torn of its bliss, ripping the smile off her face to be replaced with open-mouthed disbelief, a pounding heart, wide eyes, and frantic mental reassurance that it is not real, it's not real, it's not real*

And Dad can do nothing but gape at the screen and try not to laugh as he realizes the one reason we came to see this movie has died within the first twenty-five minutes. 

But look. At the effect. It had. On me.

Now, let's subtract the fact that I have a "sincere admiration" of Liam and look at what that death did for the story of the movie. It was, what we authors call, the "initiating event" which propelled the plot forward and forced action to respond, forced a sequence of events to follow. That is plot. And death is a powerful, powerful tool in writing, yet one, too, which has to be treated with the greatest caution.

So today, we're going to talk about using death in books. 

What is the single most important thing death does for your writing?

It lets the reader know you mean business. 

It makes your book real, tangible, and not just some fairy tale that has little substance to be drawn.

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Take, for example, Lord of the Rings. (Oh my gosh. Again? I'm such a hypocrite now...). It began as an adventurous and intriguing book but we as readers were really still feeling out the waters. What kind of a book would this be? An enchanting yet rather flouncy fairy tale like the Hobbit? Or am I in for something darker? Tolkien knew what he was doing when he killed off Boromir. He told you you were in for something darker. One of the Fellowship would not survive.

And that is what killing characters is all about. 

It SHOWS your readers NO ONE is safe. ANYTHING can happen in your authorly hands. I've read book series where again and again all the beloved characters make it out alive and it gets to the point where I think...why am I even worried? I know they'll make it out. So the urgency and stakes immediately curdle. 

The opposite, of course, is when an author OVER-uses death, desensitizing the reader and making them numbly expectant of it, as I admit to feeling some at the end of Mockingjay.

So as writers, we need to be careful. 

As we've seen, there is a strategy to death. It can sting, shock, retch, propel, liven, conclude, and devastate. Yet it needs to be contemplated with the utmost care.

When I choose who to kill off in my books, sometimes it is an innate, undeniable knowing. And sometimes, as I go along, I realize abruptly that the story calls for it. No matter how hard I resist or try to imagine the death a different way, in the end, I succumb to this uncanny, untouchable intuition, like the fate was always meant to be. Unchangeable. The character I killed at the end of Breakers was one deeply and insurmountably close to me, one who I owe perhaps my entire novel writing career to. But...I always knew somewhere deep down that he would die. It was his place. So I cried when I wrote his death (it's SO hysterically arrogant I don't even have any sheam about it), but I have never cried writing as I did killing the other character at the end of Breakers 2. Ever. It was one of those moments where I'd seen a flash of his death long ago before the novel's start and tried to resist it. Tried to say it won't happen - the story will change, it's heart-wrenching but I'll never do it. 
But no. It had to happen. And it was such a powerful, personal experience to have the tears literally falling from my eyes as I wrote it. I didn't even know that was possible. 

But that, perhaps, was the greatest deciding factor of all. If you as the writer feel something over this death, the reader will too (though of course, you need to water down your emotions by twice to measure that of what the reader's will be, as a general rule. We're simply in love with our work, brethren).

And other times, like right now, I can't decide if I made the right choice in killing one of the two potential characters I was going to kill off in my latest novel. It's up for debate right now with a maddening sense of non-resolution with the series, but that, my friends, is how drastically important such events are to me.To all of us. These characters are more real and vibrant and...necessary to our survival. Than they will ever be to your readers. With the exception, maybe, a few kindred spirits, such as my editor, Laura. Though she's little understanding of how crazy I truly am, so that statement may be inadvertently inaccurate.

Another vital department of the death strategy in writing is one we as authors need to be cognizant of:

Not every death is given fireworks and slow-motion sequences like Boromir and his arrows. Even the most amazing person can be killed senselessly, in a split moment, with no final words or hand-squeezes as we storytellers often like to sing out before the moment happens. There is a fine line here. I wrote one character's death specifically for the purpose of showing just how sudden and unsung it can be. One moment he's there -- a character we've gotten to know and respect through half a book -- the next, BOOM, shot, dead. 

But the issue here is to remember that you ARE a storyteller. It is our job to capture the beauty of what others do not see. We turn storms into orchestras, kisses into creeds, smiles into flashes of brokenness that we see in our hearts and never dreamed could be translated to the page. But we do translate it. So be careful with ruthless deaths, as important as their purpose serves. Killing off too soon or unjustly may frustrate the reader. Try for a balance. Trust your gut. Push past your fear. And know that if you really, really, really, really don't want to kill a character...

That means you probably should.

S/

I leave you with this. Because Expendables 2 was SUCH a flippin' gold mine...

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RUN, LIAM! RUN TO SHEA! SHE IS AT THE TOP OF THE HILL! SHE IS WAITING FOR YOU! GO! FASTER!
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Measuring the East to the West

9/23/2012

2 Comments

 

I know I am a writer.

But that is not how I classify my SELF. I am a daughter, sister, cousin, granddaughter, friend, writer, romantic, music/art/history and human lover, dog person, Russian sleeper agent, and government-registered hoarder. But above all, I am a human being.

It's one of my proudest attributes.

That's why, in addition of course, to my riveting authorly posts, I will be posting a few thoughts on human issues as well. Feel free to skip over them to the informative literary topics. ("I'm going to accept Shea's invitation to skip over the controversial philisophical subjects and read about Shea's irresistable manuscripts instead," said no one ever.)

My title is simple in this post. It tells the gist of what it will be about.

Psalm 103:12 "He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west."

God.

Now, I don't throw scriptures out there like a lawyer throws out evidence. I am infamous for having many issues with the Bible in that I disbelieve in some of its teachings and portrayals of God and feel disconnected to many of it's passages, as I think many people do in this generation. First and foremost, I serve God and Jesus Christ but after that, rather than ANY book or church, I leave the rest up to the values of my heart -- which, after all, is God's greatest gift to us. In fact, I classify myself and my love-themed, humanistic spirituality as "LSV" - Liberated Spiritual Voyager. Catchy, isn't it?
 But that does not mean I don't shiver at the beauty of many of the Bible's contents and find it a (usually) good guide and anchor for faith to grow from.

Going to the same Catholic mass for as long as I have, with a lovable Irish priest (direct from Ireland, accent and all, as every Catholic church should have at least one of), it's common that prayers become recitals; gestures dreamlike. I was in church the other day and looked around as I often do to try and gauge the people. How many are moved? How many are closing their eyes and taking their companion's hand? Alternatively, how many are counting the seconds until they are released with glazed eyes and how many are trying to convince themselves they are doing the righteous thing by willing themselves to sit in this pew?

It's always mixed. But I know both parties are there.

When I was younger, going to church with my family, I remember this line in particular, as almost all Catholics will.

 “May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands for the praise and glory
of his name, for our good and the good of all his Church.”

As an eight year old, I remember feeling like we were praying for so many people in that one sentence. The good of all of his Church. Logically speaking, that's about a billion Catholics.

Now, when I hear it, all I can think of are the five billion non-Catholics we, however innocently and unintentionally, exclude from that prayer.

I don't think we can love God without loving humanity -- grasping their hand without asking what their religion, race,  gender, sexual orientation, or, in the midst of the elections, political party is. It would be like loving the artist but hating all his paintings.

There's a good argument for that, of course. You can love the artist as a person but find his paintings repulsive, just as you can look at God and say...what happened to your creation? Buildings burn, people starve. Hate permeates. 

 "I sometimes think that God in creating man somewhat overestimated his ability. " -- Oscar Wilde.

The other day was 9/11. Perhaps one of the best arguments for religion and humanity gone wrong. But if I might be so arrogantly bold as to quote my facebook status:

"Every year, I try to say something because I realized you can't stay silent. This year, I've decided what I will say is this. I admit that I am scared. Some things about being human scare me out of my mind. I'm scared of what we can do and I'm scared of what we CAN'T do. I'm scared of those last seconds before the end. The same ones so many people had to face on this day, their last words, of all they could have chosen, being "I love you." I still can't believe that I was here; conscious and breathing and safe when so many people weren't that day. I spent today just watching people pass by and fighting the overwhelming urge to embrace them. But in my seventeen years, I have been convinced of something entirely. The greatest joy we will ever find in this life is the brush with another soul. Stranger or friend.
Today, we brush with 3000 of them.
So yes, I'm scared. But as those firemen, response teams, passengers, and victims know, fear has no relation to courage. I would do it all again because I am honored, speechless, and yes, breathless that I am one of you. That I'm part of your humanity.
I love you all so much.Remember that on this day. And pray each one of them closed their eyes and were caught in His arms. May He catch us too."

(Sorry, I'm ALSO a videographer on TOP of being a writer, artist, musician, cook, and philosohper. So here is my tribute video regarding that day which I am humbly proud of, if you are interested).
Now, what was I saying here? That we have no idea how amazing we truly are as beings. People ask for miracles. The contact of a kindred eye that freezes time, the brush of a compassionate hand in the dark...the loving squeeze of a stranger. That is a miracle.

"...You have never spoken to a mere mortal." -- C.S. Lewis.

So how do you measure the east from the west? How do we measure humanity's faults with humanity's goodness? This is what the scripture is saying. You can't. Because they are not compatible. They do not coexist in the same realm. And while I do believe there is darkness in all of us -- a darkness that we almost need to understand how we feel about it in the world -- we are 100% meant for goodness. We are simply pieces of love, encased by the body. Humanity is a virtue that we ARE. Humanity doesn't have faults. Humanity has sin.

The earth has two oppostie poles, north and south. If you were to travel in either, eventually you would hit one of the poles and change direction. But the east and the west....can it be measured?

I leave you with this. Thanks to Laura for listening to my spiel first. And God bless you all on this beautiful Sunday night.

-- S/
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Token Nod to Tolkien

9/3/2012

3 Comments

 

I have a confession to make.

The date is marked, Sepetember the third, where I make my public statement to the audience of four that reads this blog, that Tolkien did not inspire, and influenced little of, my fantasy novel.

*Tuxedo-wearing audience chokes on their toothpicked hors d'oeuvres upon hearing this public statement. Appalled looks of outrage are exchanged with one another as they contemplate their lack in character judgment by coming out to support me*

Or, perhaps, it's refreshing.

Of all the fantasy works I've come across, I've found nil to none free of an obvious Tolkien praise, influence, or even parody.

But we'll get to this later. We're going to be disucssing two Tolkien-related things in this post.

1) My lack of inspiration from Tolkien as opposed to my main influence (which will be revealed shortly)
2) Tolkien's characterization

Ahh, yes. We're here. The Tolkien post. The fantasy writer's repertoire of influence begins and ends with a gollum impression that has been responsible for several deaths by choking (is he doing the best impression yet or did the olive finally get to him?).

When I look at my own repitoire of influence, particularly regarding the fantasy genre (as I've been favoring the science fiction genres in these past posts), I recognize a closet tinged with the beauty of Tolkien though I must admit I think our greatest device should be the mirror staring back at us in that closet.

Exploring the wealth of our imagination and potential is not always easy, though, and guides, chosen carefully, are never a bad thing. Now, my greatest influenece, as I promised I'd reveal, was....
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That's right. I am one of THOSE people. I grew up playing swords and knights and animals and lightsabers and video games. In fact, just last week I had a thrilling battle of knights with -- well, back to the post, shall we?

Not Skyrim in particular but the entire Elder Scrolls saga. In fact, I shiver to think that I may even have to remove this post one day lest I be criticized for allowing it to manipulate my world-building techniques too closely. The mideival Empire, the vividly unique provinces, the depth of history and religion. Todd Howard, Bethesda Softworks, they are not just video game makers, but lush, underrated story creators that could rival Tolkien himself. The irony is that I'd be bold enough to guess that half of their players do not bother to even pore over a THIRD of their lore. Next post, or perhaps the one after, we'll see, I will do a lesson on world building. But now, back to Tolkien.

Characterization.
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My copy of The Hobbit. Which I think is gorgeous.
Now, in my experience, I believe Tolkien failed characterization on all accounts in The Hobbit. Forgive me. But I cannot remember even one
character from that book who made a lasting impression and part of that is faulted on the amount of characters he tossed into the pot. How many dwarves were there? And all their names rhymed? When you are authoring a book, EVERY character must pop. A name and a dialogue tag will not do. It is YOUR job to make even the guard -- yes, the guard who is in every single fantasy novel as the typically middle-aged, plate armored, and frighteningly easy to kill off -- stand out as a unique person. Give them a lisp, a limp, a white eye, make them toothless (my most recent effort). There will be no stock characters. But that's how I felt with Tolkien repetitive dwarves.  It came across as more a child's fable than a true fantasy novel.

And that's EXACTLY what
it was. A child's fable.

Here's some Tolkien history for you
.

The entire Lord of the Rings saga was intended to be for children. But once he began writing the core trilogy, he realized it was darker than intended and allowed it to mature naturally. THAT is when he hit his mark on characterization.

The Fellowship party teemed with originality. Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas -- all as different as night and day. And then we have the hobbits, of whom Sam is the true hero, I believe. The one who humanizes it all -- in it for Frodo, not for the world. Unsure of himself and yet sure of his devotion. Knowing he will recieve none of the glory, never has, and still carrying Frodo in my favorite scene of book three up Mount Doom. (<-- Tolkien sort of...ran out of creative names when he dubbed that).

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 -- Why he was the best hobbit. Also a close recollection (similair, though not inspired by this, I must add) of one of MY favorite lines in Breakers. But you'll have to read it to find out.





My time runs short as I must write my nightly chapter before the hermit crabs need re-hydrating, but I will make one more statement. It may very well be that my impressed attitude towards the characters in Lord of the Rings is solely credited to the actors in the movie, who, in some circumstances, made "good" characters "great." As Michael Caine said, the most important part of a movie is casting. After that, the work is done for you.

So go ahead and check out my "Fun Stuff" tab, actors, and write me with your acceptance letters.
There's been a few additions.

Love,

S/

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