Oh Right, I'm the Bad Guy

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I'm approaching a scene in my WIP that presents our first view of the antagonist. I want to do him justice. So, I've been researching a lot about developing good 'villains'. (See what I did there? "good" villains ;) I've realized that the antagonist that I see in my head, is flat on the page. What's the problem, how can I make him more compelling? Well, my young padawan, it's all about duality.

We all have good and bad within us (see my last post). Whether we are good or bad people is determined by what forces within get our focus.

The trick is to apply this to all of our characters. We know that the best protagonist is one that overcomes inner demons to grow into a hero that we can get behind. But let's not forget about the antagonist. At some point he fought his inner demons too, and lost.

Yesterday, I was watching BoyChild playing with his toys. One toy said to the other one, "Wait, wait! You're the Bad Guy!" To which, the other toy replied, "Oh right, I'm the Bad Guy. Mwahahaha!" And off they went, battling against each other, my son accessing his perception of good and evil in equal measure to make an epic battle. The Bad Guy didn't know he was the Bad Guy, he was just doing his thing. Oh, what our young can teach us!

So, I'm going back to the beginning, exploring my antagonist's history, learning how he got the way he is. I'm making sure I find his strengths as well as his weaknesses. His attributes as well as his flaws. Respecting his Journey.

After all, the best Bad Guys are the ones we feel sorry for, in the end.

Feeding My Wolf

www.whitewolfpack.com

There is an old, native legend (Cherokee, I believe) that tells of a grandfather talking to his grandson about an epic battle. This battle is waged within each of us. A white wolf pitched in an eternal war against a black wolf. The white wolf symbolizes all things good within us; joy, peace, love, hope, wisdom, kindness, compassion, etc. He battles to the death against the black wolf, which symbolizes all things evil within us; envy, anger, regret, sorrow, greed, guilt, dishonesty, etc. The grandfather told his progeny that these two wolves fight always in each person on the earth. The grandfather is tired from this never ending fight. Sometimes the white wolf is winning, sometimes the black wolf is winning. It is a long fight. It can be saddening. But they fight on. And on. The grandfather told his grandson that there are two such wolves within him also, fighting this same battle. The grandson was silent, thinking of all his grandfather had told him. After some time, he lifted his head and asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win, Grandfather?" The grandfather smiled and said, "The one you feed."

I first heard this story about a year and a half ago and I've thought of it often since. Today's world can be an ugly, confusing, frustrating place. Our lives swing on a pendulum; good times, bad times, balance. But it never lasts. Love is born, love dies. We are well, we are sick. We are content. For a time. There is little we can do to control the world at large. But we have absolute control over ourselves, over our attitude. We choose, every moment of every day, which wolf will get the steak. It's in how we react to the guy that just cut us off in the merge lane or the sound (and I swear there is a sound) of the sun bursting from behind a cloud and blazing down on the top of your head. 

Maybe it's me, but it seems like too many of us must have bloated black wolves inside us sitting on top of a wasted but stubborn white wolf. Everyone is so quick to yell and blame and throw dirty, angry looks around like spears. It's so easy to be angry. So easy to come home and bitch and moan about your crappy day. So easy to feel defeated. Exhausted. It's so easy to give up.

I can't write when I've allowed myself to wallow in my own acidic self-doubt; when the black wolf is on top. But I've learned that, despite appearances, the little white wolf in me is a lot scrappier than she looks. Every time I think I've had enough, that's it, I'm done...there is a shiver in my belly. And I know that it's not true. My lips purse, I take a deep breath, I sit at the keyboard, and I just keep going on. It isn't pretty. I keep stumbling. I sit and rest for looooooong stretches of time. But I keep getting back up. I need to know. 

I need to know that the white wolf will win.

Commitment Phobe

Vaishak Suresh

I’m having trouble getting into my writing again, of which anyone who has ever read any of my posts will be tediously aware. I read what I’ve written and it seems…flat. There’s no texture, no mood. Sometimes, I just can’t feel the scene. And as soon as that thought occurs to me I realize what (at least, part of) the problem is, and actually has been for some time. Setting. I can’t seem to commit to a time setting. When I first conceptualized A Bird’s Eye View, I saw it on an old fairytale forest island; but I’m terrified (and overwhelmed) by the idea of being factually inaccurate (re: vehicles, tools, etc). So, I re-started the book in a more modern time, the 1960’s (because I really don’t want to deal with cell phones and internet). But it isn’t working. It’s not the right…feel. When I think of my setting, I feel something old. But when I think of my characters, I hear their youth, their modernity.

Part of me says, “Just write the damn thing already and fix it later.” But I know I’m not underestimating the importance of the setting.

Donald Maass said, “Highly memorable settings have a palpable reality that is larger than the characters…It lives in the readers’ mind after the plot is long forgotten.”

Setting is what most strongly conveys mood, in my humble opinion. New Orleans is a city on my Bucket List because I read The Witching Hour by Anne Rice. Could Jack London’s White Fang have been set anywhere other than Canada’s Deep North, or Candace Bushnell’s Sex and the City in any city other than New York? Even Forks, a place you know (and I know you know it) because of a book that somehow made the town so real for readers that when you set the book down, you’re shocked to find yourself here instead of there (especially if it’s sunny).

So, I need to really hammer it out. Commit. I close my eyes. And the island wins out. My story is set on an ancient, living island. The characters come after. 

Now, how do I show my readers what the island is all about?

I’m reading a book right now that has a setting that makes me so cold every night, I’ve been sleeping with my socks on….really. I have no idea when this book is set, and it doesn’t seem to matter. How does she do it, this author?

Well, I googled it.

And Google told me that it’s all about the senses. (Oh God, I know, it’s so obvious! But when you’re writing a scene, ok when I’m writing a scene, you’re so focused on the movement of it. The dialogue, the plot points, the character development. Sometimes I forget to treat the setting like another character of the story. Sorry, Setting.)

The Bookshelf Muse has a great post called the Setting Thesaurus.

“So how do we achieve great setting description? Two words, people: Sensory information. The five senses Sight, Touch, Smell, Taste and Sound are key to involving the reader, because they transform descriptive word choices into experiences.”

They go on to list dozens of descriptive words to help convey sensory information for a particular setting. For example, I clicked on “forest” and some of the results were:

Sounds: soughing wind, groaning trees

Tastes: bitter, gritty, mushrooms

Touch: knobby roots, spider webs on skin

At first, I’m unimpressed. But then, I think of the island, and I see how these words can act as a guide. Using these types of words will help me show the island and how she reaches out and touches her people; she whispers to them in the winds and strokes them with fingers of moss. (See? It worked! I’m inspired.)

So, here’s my plan. The island is not just a place; she’s a character in my story. She’s ancient, timeless. She is, always has been, and always will be. The characters are just telling her their little story.  I need to develop her involvement. I’m going to write each scene making sure that she is present, that the other characters are influenced by her, that the reader is aware of her, write it from her perspective.

But AJ, you ask, what about your youthful characters? Well, I have an idea. I’m going to plant a time specific object. Anyone reading my story can either let me take them where I’m going, or if they want more detail, they can research this object, which will reveal a more obvious, more modern, time frame.

So maybe, I can have my yewts and my fairytale forest too.

I won’t go back and re-write though, not yet, because I really do just have to get the damn thing done already. 

Cheers, 

A.J.

Lotus Shmotus, Hrmph!

Lotus Blossom in Summer Rain - Eddie C3

So, I wrote poetry this weekend, for the first time since I was about fifteen years old. It’s shocking how completely impossible it is for me to be objective about my writing. Is it any good at all? I suspect not, but c’mon, I haven’t written since high school. So that’s where I’m starting from, with whatever skill/talent I had twenty years ago. I find it enormously difficult to allow myself to be bad, even though I know I have to, if I want to get good. I wish this wasn’t so. But then, that is always what has held me back. I expect myself to be brilliant at everything I try and if (when) I’m not, I tend to walk away. I don’t want to learn, I just want to know.

Several years ago I traveled to Thailand, a land where Birds of Paradise grow through cracks in the pavement like dandelions. And lotuses are revered for their perseverance.

Like a lotus, my writing has to grow through the muck to get to the sky. I wish it could just grow straight from seed to flower. I wish I didn’t have to fight my way through the black muck, past slimy pond floor pebbles, avoiding the nibbling fish and frogs, and splashing dogs all the way up to the glittering surface where I have to build a lily pad on which to rest my big fat beautiful blossom. But, unfortunately, I do. Hrmph.

So, if you feel inclined, check out my poem, even give a critique if you want – it’s the only way I can get up out of the muck. 

Cheers!

A.J.

Let Me Out!

Martin Creasey

I’ve been nervous lately. My writing seems stale. So many writers have personality drenched blogs and I wonder how to break the cage I’ve built around my own creative self. It seems like something that must be done from the outside. The tiny screeching beastie flying around inside can’t seem to get out on her own. I’ve been trying to free her by indulging in the things that made her happy, back in the days when she was free. I’ve been listening to music more, looking at more artwork, taking pictures, singing, writing. Every now and then, we can hold hands through the bars, but I can’t seem to get the fucking door open. I’m feeling desperate. Like if I can’t free her now, she’s doomed. She’s fading away, her little wings fraying, her glittery skin turning sallow, her eyes becoming sunken. Once in a while, she grabs the bars and shakes them furiously, screaming her frustration and I weep on the outside, knowing I have the key…somewhere.  But WHERE?!

I’ve been pouring over the internet searching for inspiration.  For a while, I found it here at S&S. I spent enormous amounts of time and had a blast building the blog, my twitter presence and even a facebook page. I’ve been delving deeper into the internet and the rabbit hole sucked me in. Eventually, my eyes lost the ability to focus in the real world, I had something like sun-blindness every time I turned away from the computer; and my brain, my poor brain, it started to hum, then rattle and finally it shuddered to a halt. I’d lost the spark. The artwork, the music, the other fantastic bloggers, didn’t get me in the mood for writing anymore. I almost shut down the computer. But like an addict, I kept at it, a burnout with glassy eyes and twitching fingers.  

I hit on a horoscope widget site. I don’t even remember how I got there, but it reminded me of how much fun I used to have with astrology and tarot cards, I even have my own tarot deck (where IS that?). I kept randomly surfing the net, like a rat foraging for food in the landfill. I ended up on Pinterest and saw an image of a beautiful “Moon” tarot card, and I thought, what if I tried to break through this malaise by writing flash fiction inspired by this card? What if I did this for all the cards? Hmn, that would be really hard. But maybe this is the key…but what if it takes away from working on my novel? But I haven’t been writing my novel...maybe this will help me create a habit of writing. Maybe this will help me break that damn cage. 

I really hope so, dead fairies make me sad.

PS: This is the long-winded introduction to my new page: Tarot Inspired Flash Fiction.
UPDATE: Sorry, guys, I've disabled the Flash Fiction page: to see the tarot inspired poetry I've written check out my wattpad page, it's all there. Thanks! 

Multi Media: Art Feeds Art

I have a writer friend who has spent enormous amounts of time online, downloading songs that help inspire her writing. When I say "enormous amounts of time", I mean, like, weeks. I owe her an apology because I always secretly thought it was just a way to waste time. Sorry CMF, I get it now.

Several weeks ago, I heard Adele's Rolling in the Deep for the first time. (I know, have I been living under a rock, or what?) This song gave me chills, in fact it still gives me chills. Because I see and hear one of my characters raging at my face every time I hear it. This song has made this character real for me. Totally, (furious, sad, confused) vengefully, real.

So now, I'm all about helping my creative soul find its nourishment in art. Art feeds art. This is why vision boards are so loudly touted, and why I now have one in the works. Nothing inspires beauty, and the desire for beauty, like beauty itself. As I pour over beautiful imagery and close my eyes into a rocking song, I am reminded of my teenage days when everything I did had a soundtrack. When I went out with my camera I always had my walkman (yes, I'm that old) strapped to my belt loop. Every time I sketched, the boombox was blaring. (It used to drive my brothers crazy.) And even late at night when I was reading with a flashlight, I still wore my headphones. It's no wonder my creative mind was starved into near extinction as I moved away from this lifestyle and into the corporate world; consumed with the driving need to achieve some kind of financial pot of gold, all the while my hated job slowly sucking my joie de vivre. It's time to go back. Back to a place inside that allows, needs, begs for, beauty and art.

Thank you to all my friends (you know who you are!) that over the years have encouraged me to go back to myself. To feed my self. I'm working on it.

Cheers!
A.J.

I'm working on a big scene in my WIP. My MC has run away, and as she rolls farther and farther on her own road, she is overwhelmed by a sense of guilt at the debilitating fear and despair she knows she has caused her guardian. 

The song I hear for this is Done All Wrong by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. This image represents the moment well.

Happy soul-feeding, friends.

Pink Sherbet Photography /Free Photos

5 Random Things About Me

A writer friend of mine recently posted a blog called  Five Random Things About Me You Didn't Know Before and I thought, well hell, I can do that.

1. I have a few tattoos. My favourite is of a phoenix in flight on my lower back. I know this is the hag-tag/bitch-badge spot for tattoos, but I didn’t know that when I got it, and I still love it. Actually, I think I’ll expand on it, make its wings soar all the way up my back, maybe fighting with a tiger or a dragon between my shoulder blades…hmn, LOVE that...
2. I have a potty mouth. My favourite curse word being the "f" word, because seriously, it says SO MUCH that no other word can say. It’s really problematic for me because I also have a BoyChild. Most of the time I can control myself, except when I’m driving…
3. I HATE cooking – In this culture of pseudo-foodies I try to keep it under wraps, but I REALLY hate cooking. Don’t email me your latest recipe or talk to me about the best EVOO on the local market. I have no interest in learning how to ‘de-glaze’ my frying pan. In fact, it goes even further, here’s the scary truth: I hate eating. I know; crazy, right? But true. If I could get away with it, I would totally cut eating out of my daily routine. About 10 years ago I heard a rumour that the military was developing a vitamin patch that would give soldiers all the nutrients they need to survive without food. I’m hoping this will eventually hit the mainstream market, because I am ALL OVER that! Don’t get me wrong, there are foods that I like, but not enough to keep me on board if there was a way off.
4. My first crush was on Ethan Hawke after I saw Dead Poet's Society and White Fang. It was further advanced after watching  Reality Bites but pretty much killed stone dead after Before Sunrise. He’s still cute, just way too skinny.
5. I’m really good at doing all the things I dislike, and really bad at doing all the things that I enjoy. For instance, I hate cooking but I’m actually pretty good at it. I hate bookkeeping, but I’m good at that too, same with filing, telephone message making and party planning. I love singing, but I’m seriously BAD at it, same with painting, drawing, photography and tennis. It’s enormously frustrating!

 Play along! Tell me something random about you.