Preserve the Key Ingredient

Preserve the Key Ingredient — Blue Ink Alchemy

Sometimes, you have to stop yourself and realize that something's not quite right. You've got some great elements put together but the end result isn't quite as good as it could have been. There's nothing wrong with using chocolate and butter together, and butter compliments corn, but somehow you ended up with a chocolate and corn confection that doesn't work as an edible dish. It's impressive in its presentation and the effort you provided, but nobody's going to eat it. But the chocolate's good. Stick with that. Just try doing something else with it. The metaphor's a bit of a stretch, I know. But the notion is this. If you've written something, and constructive criticism points out a lot of elements that just don't play to the work's strengths, strip out those elements and do something else with those strengths. Preserve the core of your story, its key ingredient. Most stories have a core, a fulcrum upon which the work turns. It could be an uplifting revelation the human condition, a tragic moment of heroic sacrifice in the face of the horrors of war, or a stinging bit of social or political satire. If some of the story doesn't work to support that core, that does not mean the core is bad. It just means you need to change how people approach it. You have to get and hold the reader's attention so you can reach that core, allow them to see exactly what you're trying to say, and get them thinking about it, especially if you can plant the seed of thought that continues to grow long after they finish enjoying your work. I know I keep bashing on Star Wars, but it's a perfect example of how not to do this. Lucas established in his original films that the life of Anakin Skywalker had been a tragic, almost operatic rise and fall from grace into the darkness of Darth Vader. When he said he would go back and tell that story, I for one was excited. The depiction of a great villain starting out as a great and noble hero makes for some great storytelling. At least it could have. Instead, Lucas pandered to demographics, focused on spectacle rather than substance, and reduced the supposedly noble Anakin to a whiny, selfish, mass-murdering traitorous asshole. Don't do that. If you need to scrap the bulk of your story and start over, hold onto the good parts. No, not the darlings, those need to get dragged out behind the shed and shot. I'm talking about the core of the story. The reason why you sat down to write it in the first place. The thing that keeps you up at night thinking about it and follows you through your waking hours. Well, maybe, that's just how I feel about it, but anyway... Preserve the key ingredient, throw everything else out, and start over. Mix in some new things with that chocolate. Like caramel. Great. Now I'm hungry.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Batman

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Batman — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/batman.mp3] The right-hand column of my blog (you fine Escapist folks know where it is if you're a follower of mine so I won't reiterate its URL) haunts me. I put a few things on my Netflix queue that, for one reason or another, I think would be interesting to review. The recent remake of The Taking of Pelham 123 looks ripe for taking the piss out of, Tron needs to be seen with fresh eyes unmasked by the glasses of nostalgia, Kingdom of Heaven is reportedly much better in a Director's Cut format, and so on. Ideally, I would be able to watch these films and formulate their reviews while also working on the revisions of my novel. Unfortunately, we can't all be Yahtzee Croshaw, what with his cushy Escapist gig and his shiny new blog and his upcoming novel and legions of rabid fans. Some of us have to continue working day jobs. And live in a dystopian nation of backwards politics hopped up on its own hype. And can't seem to shake a World of Warcraft addiction. And aren't as good-looking. *ahem* So here's a review of 1989's Batman instead. Batman, as it appeared at the hands of Tim Burton back when I was a young lad who hadn't quite discovered the true joys of the female form yet, mixes the origin story of the Caped Crusader with that of his primary nemesis, the Joker. Gotham City is currently being run not by its long-suffering mayor but crime boss Carl Grissom, who seems to be getting away with it while Batman beats up muggers. It isn't until Grissom's "number one guy," Jack Napier, gets shot in the face and takes a swim in a vat of chemicals to emerge as the Clown Prince of Crime that Batman goes after the syndicate. Batman, or rather Bruce Wayne, is himself being pursued by photojournalist Vicki Vale, who wants to know the truth behind the eccentric billionaire's disappearances and behavior. Despite being rich, charming and charitable, there's something a bit off about him, and she needs to find out what if she's going to keep sleeping with him. This was the first real attempt to make a celluloid Batman that's more in the veins of Frank Miller than the camp that permeated the character in the 60's. It was actually the work in the late 70's Detective Comics that influence the gothic look and feel of Gotham City in Burton's film. The soaring dark towers, flying buttresses and stoic sculptures would seep through this film into its first sequel and the animated series, which is still one of the best depictions of Batman to date. The story of Bruce Wayne's never-ending quest for revenge and the villains that are drawn out by his particular form of mild sociopathy is quite dark, and Burton's early filmmaking style underscores this darkness, as well as not having Johnny Depp or Helena Bonham Carter anywhere in sight.
Fighting crime is serious business. Michael Keaton plays Wayne in a very particular way. Instead of making the dichotomy between the jet-set playboy and the haunted superhero obvious with voice affectations or mannerisms, we see the line between the two as somewhat blurred. Both Bruce and Batman are a little stiff, the former due to social awkwardness and the latter constrained by a rubber suit. Neither character is particularly wordy, and Keaton shows how the strange lifestyle of fighting crime by night permeates into one's daytime activities with Wayne's habits, mannerisms and speech patterns. He's not my favorite Batman, but he's close, and he's one of the few who really focuses on the character's inherent oddness. Given that this is Batman, however, the title character isn't quite the most interesting one. Jack Nicholson's Joker is still held by many to be the best, harkening as he does to the days of Cesar Romero's way of punctuating his lines with an insane laugh and dressing in bright colors. He's quite joyful and there's a lot to like in the way he approaches the darkness and deep psychosis of the "world's first fully-functioning homicidal artist." Some of his gags work very well, too - the boxing glove in particular. Not all of them do, however, and while he does dispatch innocents and henchmen alike with an amusing disdain, for me his performance somewhat lacks the cold razor's edge that Mark Hamill occasionally unsheathes in his voice acting and that Heath Ledger wielded with the adroitness of a master fencer.
The Joker + Prince = winning combination. The biggest surprise for me, however, was how much I ended up liking some of the less colorful supporting actors. Kim Basinger, while always nice to look at, wasn't quite as interesting for me as Robert Wuhl's dedicated reporter character of Alexander Knox. He's convinced that the Batman exists despite all the denials of Commissioner Gordon and others in authority, and his pursuit of the truth is peppered with a few good jokes and the sort of newspaper tropes that make All the President's Men and State of Play such great films. I was sorry he didn't make it into the sequel - I thought that, after the public admission of Batman's existence, he'd want to interview the hero in some sort of Gotham Globe exclusive. Sort of like Lois Lane trying to land an interview with Superman, but without trying to make it into a date, because that would be gay. The late great Jack Palance chews up some of the scenery in a delightfully hammy way, Billy Dee Williams makes Harvey Dent a smooth-talking charming DA that makes me mourn what became of the character at the hands of Joel Schumacher, and Michael Gough brings us Alfred Pennyworth's trademark grandfatherly concern and dry humor. The writing isn't too terrible, the action's decent and the special effects are practical effects that are aging somewhat gracefully so far. The soundtrack's an odd but interesting mix of Danny Elfman and Prince. And as much as I like the Tumbler from Nolan's Batman films, I'm always delighted to see a Batmobile that looks like a Goddamn Batmobile. Because when you're the Goddamn Batman, it's not too much to ask to have a little style in your Goddamn Batmobile.
It runs on jet fuel and awesome. All in all, this is a decent comic book film that helped Hollywood realize that adaptations from that media to theirs was not only workable, but financially viable. Batman was the highest-grossing film of 1989, had a great deal of influence on future cinematic superhero works and inspired the animated series that launched the DC universe on the small screen. That's undoubtedly a success, and it's worth putting on your Netflix queue if you want to see where it all began, or if you like black and purple a lot. Even 20 years on, it's echoes can still be felt in modern works dealing with dedicated and slightly crazy normal people who put on costumes to beat up criminals, which is something I'll touch on when I review Kick-Ass next week. I'll see you fine folks then, provided I can fit the review in between the daily quests of my idiotic second job and my attempts to remind myself that my manuscript doesn't completely suck. Josh Loomis can't always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it's unclear if this week's film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain... IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

One's Own Hype

One's Own Hype — Blue Ink Alchemy

I'm glad that the writing competition I mentioned yesterday has a deadline in August instead of its original, which would have been tomorrow. I think I have more work to do than I thought. Creative people in general, and writers in particular, need to take care when it comes to their own hype. It's one thing to be confident in one's abilities, but it's entirely possible to be over-confident and believe you have a project in the bag right up until the point you show it to somebody else. On the flip side, criticism - even at its most constructive - can trip up the flow of one's planned work schedule to the point of making you want to scrap the whole project and start over. We (or at least I) do these things because they're easy. It's easy to think that you're awesome. And it's just as easy to get down on yourself, toss out the decent baby with the dirty bathwater and begin again. The part in the middle, having the confidence to salvage the best parts of your story and the humility to admit something you might like in said story doesn't work and needs to make way for more things that do work, is more difficult. Hell, just typing out those few words was hard. We have to kill our darlings. We have to turn our work over and make sure everything stays put. We have to throw it at the wall and see if it sticks. Or breaks the wall entirely. Here's an example. I like my characters deep. I like knowing where a character comes from, what shaped them, what makes them interesting enough to keep a story going. The problem is, when they first come forth from my head onto the page this depth takes the form of exposition, backstory, setup. The thing is, when people come to see a play, the set's already up and painted. Nobody comes to watch the false walls get nailed in place or the stage crew bicker at each other while the painting's going on. Writing's the same way - it's fine to write out this backstage stuff, but do it someplace the reader doesn't have to read it if they don't want to. Especially in short fiction. Get in, tell the story, get out. And be very, very careful of how much you buy your own hype.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

I Must Construct Additional Pylons!

I Must Construct Additional Pylons! — Blue Ink Alchemy

I have an entry created for Blizzard's writing contest, and while I think it's okay, I want to be doubly sure it's highly polished and as Blizzardy as possible. But it's not about what I think, is it? It's going to be read by other people. So I need other people willing to read it. Specifically, I'm looking for at least two. I need someone familiar with StarCraft. The game has some particulars in terms of lore, background, themes and mood. I want to make sure I'm hitting all of the major touchpoints and haven't completely botched my timelines. I also need someone familiar with writing. The words I've chosen are in a particular order, but I don't know if they're in the best order. I've gotten great feedback on Citizen in the Wilds thanks to people looking at the order of my words, and I'd love this little short work to get the same treatment. Leave me a comment if you're interested. I can send you an invite to the Google document via the email address you'll input to post the comment. Once I'm a bit more confident in this, I'll send it off to Blizzard and start making burnt offerings to any deity within celestial earshot. I really want this to go well. Like, a lot.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Epic Is In The Details

The Epic Is In The Details — Blue Ink Alchemy

It's amazing how moving something small can make a huge difference. We've been in the process of rearranging our apartment. The latest change saw a large stack of things by the lower corner of the bed, meaning I'd have to crawl out of it in a somewhat awkward manner. Over the weekend (Sunday night in fact) we moved things again, and I took it upon myself to shift that stack a bit, resulting in a much easier way for me to get up and about first thing in the morning. I woke this morning with more energy and determination. All because I moved a couple boxes. It's hard to say how things will turn out when you start rearranging things, cleaning them up, putting them in a different order. The same thing could be said about writing, especially the revision process. Move a couple of words, put sentences in a different order, and hey presto, something that was just a brain-dump of information becomes taut and dramatic. Clean up a few things, and a mess becomes a masterpiece. It can even cure that thing we used to call 'writer's block' before some sagely men in manly beards told us writer's block is a crock. Has this happened to you before? What are some good examples? Do you have particular days when you clean things up, be it around the house or in your writing?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Epic's In The Details

The Epic's In The Details — Blue Ink Alchemy

It's amazing how moving something small can make a huge difference. We've been in the process of rearranging our apartment. The latest change saw a large stack of things by the lower corner of the bed, meaning I'd have to crawl out of it in a somewhat awkward manner. Over the weekend (Sunday night in fact) we moved things again, and I took it upon myself to shift that stack a bit, resulting in a much easier way for me to get up and about first thing in the morning. I woke this morning with more energy and determination. All because I moved a couple boxes. It's hard to say how things will turn out when you start rearranging things, cleaning them up, putting them in a different order. The same thing could be said about writing, especially the revision process. Move a couple of words, put sentences in a different order, and hey presto, something that was just a brain-dump of information becomes taut and dramatic. It can even cure that thing we used to call 'writer's block' before some sagely men in manly beards told us writer's block is a crock. Has this happened to you before? What are some good examples? Do you have particular days when you clean things up, be it around the house or in your writing?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Guest Post: Fictional Plausibility And Death

Guest Post: Fictional Plausibility And Death — Blue Ink Alchemy

Today's guest post comes to us courtesy of Monica Flink. She's a long-standing and very dear friend who is also struggling to get away from the day job environment through the power of the written word. She's been published on AOL.com, Lifescript.com and eHow. She has guest lectured at colleges and is a regular contributor to Squashblossom Literary Magazine. Her blog is Poached Prose.

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Recently, a close friend of this author did her a solid. Like a two thousand dollar solid. And thus, in her pitiful attempt to repay him, she made him a cake. Not just any cake, but her best cake. Her patented Demonic Chocolate Fantasy Cake©. It is made with three pounds of Ghirardelli chocolate, and is enough to bring a lesser man to his knees with its layers of dark fudge cake, whipped ganache filling and fudge frosting. So of course he had a massive coronary shortly afterward. Death by cake is not something that the world thinks of seriously. It is reserved for chintzy chain restaurants that want to advertise a dessert that tastes decent but is pulled out of the freezer and reheated when you order it as something worth the extra three dollars. But it puts the idea of death on the discussion table, and how it seems to be easier to accept in fiction, especially the more ludicrous it happens to be. There are so many ways for people to die. Human beings, though the top of the food chain, are fragile creatures when you think about it. Hundreds of functions go on without our knowing it, and just one of them can go wrong and kill us. If a heart stops beating or a kidney fails to cycle out waste, our lives are snuffed out as easily as a candle under an industrial fan. Sometimes without us even realizing that there is something wrong. But natural causes aside, there are also so many ways to stop those functions with resources. The oldest books in the world, whether you believe it is the markings of the Pyramids, or the Epic of Gilgamesh, have touched upon death and have done so with plausibility. Albeit with swords and bird things that come to collect us all to the Afterlife, but it worked for those time periods. And there you have the heart of the matter. Plausibility in death. Harrowing up the feelings of readers for the payoff you so desire by giving the protagonist, antagonist, or hapless bystander the right send off, so to speak. Making the death of characters believable is difficult at best, and mostly because so few of us have trouble not only imagining such horrible things, but have been given such a skewed idea of it from the media. I need not name names, but let's face it, those Hostel moves are shit on a stick, and younger generations of writers are going to see that garbage and assume people who are tormented like that will not just die of shock unless they are medically treated. Luckily, fiction lends its self to this problem, because fiction is just that: fiction. It need not be as realistic as other visual media, but then again, it may make things more difficult. A writer might think it cool to have someone die while crushed by tap dancing giant iguanas wearing feather boas, but even if circumstances in a work of fiction lend themselves to that kind of end, it is still hard to write. Just as it is hard to imagine someone dying by having a piece of cake that no one should eat more than a single sliver of. Proof that truth is stranger than fiction, even with death involved? Perhaps. Yet, it reveals not only how difficult it is to make death in fiction plausible. It is easy for us to accept that a magical spell can rip the heart from a person's rib cage, or light them in a pillar of unquenchable fire, but only if the story lends its self to such ends. If a piece of fiction has been all about guns and car chases for a hundred thousand words, to have it end with someone falling in a river and drowning, or perhaps just being strangled to death, is not only anticlimactic, but the exact opposite of what would probably satisfy the audience. In the end, it comes down to how well the characters are written, and how well the story lends its self to death. Will it be more satisfying to have the main villain die when he goes careening off a comfortably placed cliff with a few sharp spikes at the bottom that just happen to be there, or have an aneurysm in his brain splatter across the gray matter when he samples a piece of cake that should have never been made in the first place? Coming up with a quote about writing about death would have been an excellent way to end this. Instead, I leave you all with the idea that writing about death does not have to be horrible, difficult, or even creative. It just needs to be believable.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Guest Post: Fictional Plausibility And Death

Guest Post: Fictional Plausibility And Death — Blue Ink Alchemy

Today's guest post comes to us courtesy of Monica Flink. She's a long-standing and very dear friend who is also struggling to get away from the day job environment through the power of the written word. Her blog is Poached Prose.

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Recently, a close friend of this author did her a solid. Like a two thousand dollar solid. And thus, in her pitiful attempt to repay him, she made him a cake. Not just any cake, but her best cake. Her patented Demonic Chocolate Fantasy Cake©. It is made with three pounds of Ghirardelli chocolate, and is enough to bring a lesser man to his knees with its layers of dark fudge cake, whipped ganache filling and fudge frosting. So of course he had a massive coronary shortly afterward. Death by cake is not something that the world thinks of seriously. It is reserved for chintzy chain restaurants that want to advertise a dessert that tastes decent but is pulled out of the freezer and reheated when you order it as something worth the extra three dollars. But it puts the idea of death on the discussion table, and how it seems to be easier to accept in fiction, especially the more ludicrous it happens to be. There are so many ways for people to die. Human beings, though the top of the food chain, are fragile creatures when you think about it. Hundreds of functions go on without our knowing it, and just one of them can go wrong and kill us. If a heart stops beating or a kidney fails to cycle out waste, our lives are snuffed out as easily as a candle under an industrial fan. Sometimes without us even realizing that there is something wrong. But natural causes aside, there are also so many ways to stop those functions with resources. The oldest books in the world, whether you believe it is the markings of the Pyramids, or the Epic of Gilgamesh, have touched upon death and have done so with plausibility. Albeit with swords and bird things that come to collect us all to the Afterlife, but it worked for those time periods. And there you have the heart of the matter. Plausibility in death. Harrowing up the feelings of readers for the payoff you so desire by giving the protagonist, antagonist, or hapless bystander the right send off, so to speak. Making the death of characters believable is difficult at best, and mostly because so few of us have trouble not only imagining such horrible things, but have been given such a skewed idea of it from the media. I need not name names, but let's face it, those Hostel moves are shit on a stick, and younger generations of writers are going to see that garbage and assume people who are tormented like that will not just die of shock unless they are medically treated. Luckily, fiction lends its self to this problem, because fiction is just that: fiction. It need not be as realistic as other visual media, but then again, it may make things more difficult. A writer might think it cool to have someone die while crushed by tap dancing giant iguanas wearing feather boas, but even if circumstances in a work of fiction lend themselves to that kind of end, it is still hard to write. Just as it is hard to imagine someone dying by having a piece of cake that no one should eat more than a single sliver of. Proof that truth is stranger than fiction, even with death involved? Perhaps. Yet, it reveals not only how difficult it is to make death in fiction plausible. It is easy for us to accept that a magical spell can rip the heart from a person's rib cage, or light them in a pillar of unquenchable fire, but only if the story lends its self to such ends. If a piece of fiction has been all about guns and car chases for a hundred thousand words, to have it end with someone falling in a river and drowning, or perhaps just being strangled to death, is not only anticlimactic, but the exact opposite of what would probably satisfy the audience. In the end, it comes down to how well the characters are written, and how well the story lends its self to death. Will it be more satisfying to have the main villain die when he goes careening off a comfortably placed cliff with a few sharp spikes at the bottom that just happen to be there, or have an aneurysm in his brain splatter across the gray matter when he samples a piece of cake that should have never been made in the first place? Coming up with a quote about writing about death would have been an excellent way to end this. Instead, I leave you all with the idea that writing about death does not have to be horrible, difficult, or even creative. It just needs to be believable.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Guest Post: Fictional Plausibility And Death

Guest Post: Fictional Plausibility And Death — Blue Ink Alchemy

Today's guest post comes to us courtesy of Monica Flink. She's a long-standing and very dear friend who is also struggling to get away from the day job environment through the power of the written word. Her blog is Poached Prose.

---

Recently, a close friend of this author did her a solid. Like a two thousand dollar solid. And thus, in her pitiful attempt to repay him, she made him a cake. Not just any cake, but her best cake. Her patented Demonic Chocolate Fantasy Cake©. It is made with three pounds of Ghirardelli chocolate, and is enough to bring a lesser man to his knees with its layers of dark fudge cake, whipped ganache filling and fudge frosting. So of course he had a massive coronary shortly afterward. Death by cake is not something that the world thinks of seriously. It is reserved for chintzy chain restaurants that want to advertise a dessert that tastes decent but is pulled out of the freezer and reheated when you order it as something worth the extra three dollars. But it puts the idea of death on the discussion table, and how it seems to be easier to accept in fiction, especially the more ludicrous it happens to be. There are so many ways for people to die. Human beings, though the top of the food chain, are fragile creatures when you think about it. Hundreds of functions go on without our knowing it, and just one of them can go wrong and kill us. If a heart stops beating or a kidney fails to cycle out waste, our lives are snuffed out as easily as a candle under an industrial fan. Sometimes without us even realizing that there is something wrong. But natural causes aside, there are also so many ways to stop those functions with resources. The oldest books in the world, whether you believe it is the markings of the Pyramids, or the Epic of Gilgamesh, have touched upon death and have done so with plausibility. Albeit with swords and bird things that come to collect us all to the Afterlife, but it worked for those time periods. And there you have the heart of the matter. Plausibility in death. Harrowing up the feelings of readers for the payoff you so desire by giving the protagonist, antagonist, or hapless bystander the right send off, so to speak. Making the death of characters believable is difficult at best, and mostly because so few of us have trouble not only imagining such horrible things, but have been given such a skewed idea of it from the media. I need not name names, but let's face it, those Hostel moves are shit on a stick, and younger generations of writers are going to see that garbage and assume people who are tormented like that will not just die of shock unless they are medically treated. Luckily, fiction lends its self to this problem, because fiction is just that: fiction. It need not be as realistic as other visual media, but then again, it may make things more difficult. A writer might think it cool to have someone die while crushed by tap dancing giant iguanas wearing feather boas, but even if circumstances in a work of fiction lend themselves to that kind of end, it is still hard to write. Just as it is hard to imagine someone dying by having a piece of cake that no one should eat more than a single sliver of. Proof that truth is stranger than fiction, even with death involved? Perhaps. Yet, it reveals not only how difficult it is to make death in fiction plausible. It is easy for us to accept that a magical spell can rip the heart from a person's rib cage, or light them in a pillar of unquenchable fire, but only if the story lends its self to such ends. If a piece of fiction has been all about guns and car chases for a hundred thousand words, to have it end with someone falling in a river and drowning, or perhaps just being strangled to death, is not only anticlimactic, but the exact opposite of what would probably satisfy the audience. In the end, it comes down to how well the characters are written, and how well the story lends its self to death. Will it be more satisfying to have the main villain die when he goes careening off a comfortably placed cliff with a few sharp spikes at the bottom that just happen to be there, or have an aneurysm in his brain splatter across the gray matter when he samples a piece of cake that should have never been made in the first place? Coming up with a quote about writing about death would have been an excellent way to end this. Instead, I leave you all with the idea that writing about death does not have to be horrible, difficult, or even creative. It just needs to be believable.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Guest Post: Fictional Plausibility And Death

Guest Post: Fictional Plausibility And Death — Blue Ink Alchemy

Today's guest post comes to us courtesy of Monica Flink. She's a long-standing and very dear friend who is also struggling to get away from the day job environment through the power of the written word. Her blog is Poached Prose.

---

Recently, a close friend of this author did her a solid. Like a two thousand dollar solid. And thus, in her pitiful attempt to repay him, she made him a cake. Not just any cake, but her best cake. Her patented Demonic Chocolate Fantasy Cake©. It is made with three pounds of Ghirardelli chocolate, and is enough to bring a lesser man to his knees with its layers of dark fudge cake, whipped ganache filling and fudge frosting. So of course he had a massive coronary shortly afterward. Death by cake is not something that the world thinks of seriously. It is reserved for chintzy chain restaurants that want to advertise a dessert that tastes decent but is pulled out of the freezer and reheated when you order it as something worth the extra three dollars. But it puts the idea of death on the discussion table, and how it seems to be easier to accept in fiction, especially the more ludicrous it happens to be. There are so many ways for people to die. Human beings, though the top of the food chain, are fragile creatures when you think about it. Hundreds of functions go on without our knowing it, and just one of them can go wrong and kill us. If a heart stops beating or a kidney fails to cycle out waste, our lives are snuffed out as easily as a candle under an industrial fan. Sometimes without us even realizing that there is something wrong. But natural causes aside, there are also so many ways to stop those functions with resources. The oldest books in the world, whether you believe it is the markings of the Pyramids, or the Epic of Gilgamesh, have touched upon death and have done so with plausibility. Albeit with swords and bird things that come to collect us all to the Afterlife, but it worked for those time periods. And there you have the heart of the matter. Plausibility in death. Harrowing up the feelings of readers for the payoff you so desire by giving the protagonist, antagonist, or hapless bystander the right send off, so to speak. Making the death of characters believable is difficult at best, and mostly because so few of us have trouble not only imagining such horrible things, but have been given such a skewed idea of it from the media. I need not name names, but let's face it, those Hostel moves are shit on a stick, and younger generations of writers are going to see that garbage and assume people who are tormented like that will not just die of shock unless they are medically treated. Luckily, fiction lends its self to this problem, because fiction is just that: fiction. It need not be as realistic as other visual media, but then again, it may make things more difficult. A writer might think it cool to have someone die while crushed by tap dancing giant iguanas wearing feather boas, but even if circumstances in a work of fiction lend themselves to that kind of end, it is still hard to write. Just as it is hard to imagine someone dying by having a piece of cake that no one should eat more than a single sliver of. Proof that truth is stranger than fiction, even with death involved? Perhaps. Yet, it reveals not only how difficult it is to make death in fiction plausible. It is easy for us to accept that a magical spell can rip the heart from a person's rib cage, or light them in a pillar of unquenchable fire, but only if the story lends its self to such ends. If a piece of fiction has been all about guns and car chases for a hundred thousand words, to have it end with someone falling in a river and drowning, or perhaps just being strangled to death, is not only anticlimactic, but the exact opposite of what would probably satisfy the audience. In the end, it comes down to how well the characters are written, and how well the story lends its self to death. Will it be more satisfying to have the main villain die when he goes careening off a comfortably placed cliff with a few sharp spikes at the bottom that just happen to be there, or have an aneurysm in his brain splatter across the gray matter when he samples a piece of cake that should have never been made in the first place? Coming up with a quote about writing about death would have been an excellent way to end this. Instead, I leave you all with the idea that writing about death does not have to be horrible, difficult, or even creative. It just needs to be believable.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Movie Review: Salt

Movie Review: Salt — Blue Ink Alchemy

Thanks to my friends at Geekadelphia, my wife and I were able to enjoy an advance screening of Salt. We walked out of it wondering the same thing: why is a movie dealing with a villain put to bed twenty years ago coming out now? Remember how Yahtzee equated the United States to a prize fighter who keeps yelling at his old rival Russia because they didn't have a proper title match? "Last I checked, it hasn't been 1979 for at least 10 years." In that case he was talking about Battlefield Bad Company 2, but it seems this unfortunate backwards-looking form of inspiration has reached Hollywood as well. Despite the fact that there are all sorts of punching bags for an espionage thriller that's also a vehicle for Angelina Jolie, Kurt Wimmer's Salt manages the feat of bringing the Soviet Union's labyrinthine intelligence plotting back from the dead as an engine to drive the film's plot. The plot introduces us to Evelyn Salt, a CIA operative married to an arachnid expert. She's getting ready to enjoy her anniversary when a Russian defector walks into her office claiming to have vital information. Placed in an interrogation room with Salt, the defector reveals that he has knowledge of a presidential assassination plot going down in New York City in 24 hours. He even knows the name of the assassin: Evelyn Salt. Pointed out as a possible mole, unable to reach her husband and trapped in her own office building, Salt needs to facilitate an escape and find a way to prove her innocence. Or carry out her role in the assassination plot. Or go on vacation. Or get her nails done. The question I asked myself while actually watching Salt was, "What the hell is she up to?" he desire to see what exactly her plan was kept me going all the way to the end credits. A lot is made of the identity of Evelyn Salt, and to the credit of Wimmer's script, Philip Noyce's direction and Angelina Jolie's acting, we're never quite sure who's side she's on. She conveys emotion when she has to and turns it off when it's time to kick ass - par for the course from the creator of Equilibrium. The film seems aware of the fact that it's a vehicle for Jolie, and never really gets in her way. We're never out of sight from our leading lady for more than a minute. Her performance here is definitely more in the vein of Wanted than Changeling, but she's at least somewhat interesting to watch. In fact, the cast isn't uninteresting and does rather well all around. None of the performances feel forced, none of the actors gnaw on the scenery and they're given interesting stuff to do. Liev Schreiber has quickly grown on me as a supporting actor, with a quiet intensity and growling voice that isn't overshadowed by Angelina's presence. Chiwetel Ejiofor isn't bad, either, channeling a bit of the drive that informed his performance as the Operative in Serenity. The script is fine, never going into camp territory or stopping to wink at the audience. The action is at least somewhat inventive in places and it's shot well by Noyce, never becoming too confusing or too loud, a tip some other directors could take. In fact, all of these elements make it a more-than-decent thriller, and a thrill ride besides. But the best writing and acting in the world can't overcome a bad premise. It's like building a brilliantly designed and carefully constructed house on a beach with bricks of sand as your foundation. It's not going to end well. Salt never completely collapses, but the idea that the spectre of Soviet aggression would rise up from the shadows of the past to seek revenge on America for a war that never got to the shooting stages and resolved itself almost two decades ago is pretty preposterous. I can think of at least a few people who will see this film, take it as at least partial fact, and use it as just another thing that we should be afraid of, in addition to terrorism, socialist medicine, communist market oversight and fascist environmental controls. BE AFRAID. WE ARE THE GOVERNMENT. OBEY US. Dammit, there I go getting political again. I told my controller therapist very patient readers I wouldn't do that any more. *twitch* Since posting this review on the Escapist the night I saw it, I've gotten some stick for apparently being 'naive' and ignoring the threat that Russia presents to America. The thing is, though, I know we're going to get spied on. Espionage does not automatically mean open conflict. In fact, if it gets to the point of a car chase or a gunfight, the espionage has failed. So, when the US busted that Russian spy ring recently, was I surprised? Not really. I'm sure the US has spies all over the world as we speak. I do see the point made to me about not being naive in terms of espionage happening right now, but I have to opine the idea that espionage inevitably leads to open conflict is very far-fetched. To anticipate that sort of hostility is to live in perpetual fear, and that is something I refuse to do. Stuff I Liked: Decent script, well-shot action and a brisk pace. Stuff I Didn't Like: Dammit, leave Russia alone. The war's over. Stuff I Loved: If I loved anything, it was seeing Angelina kicking ass and seeing how creatively she was dealing with the people she didn't kill. Bottom Line: It's not a bad movie. It's a decent little espionage thriller that suffers from the aforementioned idiotic premise. You'd be okay if you wait for it to come out on video. There are other movies out there that deserve to be seen in a cinema. Like Inception.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Movie Review: Inception

Movie Review: Inception — Blue Ink Alchemy

I've been a fan of writer/director Christopher Nolan's work since his shatteringly brilliant Memento. He's breathed new life into Batman with two equally stunning films, and his somewhat underrated adaptation of the novel The Prestige is every bit as haunting and cerebral as his other work. This year, he brings us Inception. Not only is it probably the best film you'll see all summer, if not all year, it's also the best film of Nolan's career to date. Yep. Better than The Dark Knight, better than Memento. The tag line for the film is "Your mind is the scene of the crime." The concept is that technology originally developed to allow military recruits to train against each other in a consequence-free dreamscape is now being used by professional thieves to steal information from others' minds in their dreams. This requires the participation of an architect to build the world of the dream, a chemist to balance the drugs required to keep the mark and the team under, a forger who creates cyphers to assist or distract the mark, a point man to keep the mental defenses of the mark's subconscious at bay, and an extractor to get their hands on the information. Everybody involved needs to remained focused and calm, which is a problem for the extractor, Cobb, whose own subconscious is breaking into the dream worlds his team have built. He needs to go home, and to do so, industrialist Saito offers him one last job - not to steal an idea, but to implant one, a process considered to be impossible and known as inception. If he hadn't become a filmmaker, Christopher Nolan may have become a renowned illusionist, the sort of stage practitioner that leaves the crowd breathless and wondering how exactly he pulled off his trick. What's particularly amazing about Nolan's work is, not only are we aware that he's manipulating events like a master puppeteer, he goes out of his way to show us the strings before he leads down a labyrinth of ideas and environments, daring us to keep up. We caught glimpses of this in Memento and The Prestige, but Inception takes this to a whole new level. The rules of the dream, the logic behind the flow of time within the subconscious and the ways in which the mind moves to protect itself are explained in great detail, Nolan shows us how these constructs work, and then takes us on a journey that has us questioning what rules, if any, were broken, and how the story arrives at its conclusion, to say nothing of what that conclusion actually is. Inception would not work anywhere near as well as it does if it didn't have such an excellent, top-caliber cast. Leonardo DiCaprio as Cobb the extractor continues to shine in the sort of edgy, mature, hard-bitten roles that have caused me to embrace him as a fantastic actor. He gives Cobb a great deal of haunted depth, and has the burden of carrying the bulk of the film's emotional and philosophical weight. He does so with grace and not a hint of exertion, drawing us deeper and deeper into the realm of Cobb's mind. But that doesn't mean the rest of the cast is just phoning it in. Everybody's in top form here. Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who apparently can totally rock a suit no matter what film he's in, seems dedicated to keeping Cobb grounded to keep his job as point man from being to difficult, while Tom Hardy (who thankfully has put that Shinzon debacle far behind him) encourages everyone around him to use their imaginations while he forges the tools they need to pull off their heist. Ken Watanabe shows us many dimensions as Saito, a man who is both the cause for Cobb's predicament on this last job and the apparent key to his freedom. Cillian Murphy as the mark is more that just a dupe, but to say more would be giving away plot information. And Ellen Page, who's quickly become one of my favorite young actresses, conveys Ariadne as both the eager young architect recruited by Cobb and the voice of reason inside his head. If Saito has the key to Cobb's freedom, Ariadne has the key to preventing the interference caused by Mal, played with sublime menace by Marion Cotillard. Yes, her name is 'Ariadne', as in 'mistress of the labyrinth'. There's a lot of symbolism in Inception. Since we're dealing almost entirely in the realm of dreams for the running time of this film, and dreams are populated by people, places and things that hold special meaning for the dreamer, quite a few things that happen between the first shot and the last seem to invite us to interpret them. Christopher Nolan is a skilled storyteller, so the film never verges into completely obscurantist territory like 2001 does, and even as symbols come and go, the plot remains taut and the characters clearly motivated. As I said, Nolan's confident enough in his skill to show us the strings. That doesn't mean that those very strings we're shown can't be used to mess with our heads. I admit I had a squeal of delight when Ariadne asks the question, "What happens when you start messing with the physics?" It's something I never quite got about The Matrix. If you were in complete control of the world around you, why not start messing with things the way she does? The way the real world interacts with the dream world leads to some very interesting situations, from a quick laugh at the beginning of the heist to one of the most inventive and breathtaking fight sequences I have seen in a very, very long time. Not only does Joseph Gorden-Levitt rock that suit, he does what was probably a rather complicated stunt without seeming to break a sweat. The guy's a pro. This is a film I will be watching many more times for many years to come. It's Christopher Nolan's best film to date, and it will be damn hard to top. I'd love to go see it again right now, in theaters, as the big screen perfectly captures the scope, power and danger of the worlds built within our dreams. However, it'll also be great on DVD, so that the film can be paused, rewound and analysed with friends over drinks to try and figure out what exactly it all means. I for one can't wait for those evenings. A lot's been said about the ending of Inception. I've tried very hard not to give away any spoilers, but let me voice my opinion to the best of my ability. Christopher Nolan is not a bad storyteller. He gives us all the clues we need to figure out exactly what Inception is and means, to him and to us. He doesn't take the Kubrick & Clark route, of trying to raise many more questions than he answers. He wants us to understand. He encourages us to figure it out. And he provides everything we need to solve the puzzle. The challenge is... can we? I'd like to think I can. I just need to see it again. A few times. It's an amazing film, one of the best I've seen in a long time, and if ever there was an excuse for me to sell a major organ to afford a high-def television and a PlayStation 3 in anticipation of a film coming out on Blu-ray, Inception would be it. This one's going to be in my head and in my heart for a long, long time. Stuff I Liked: Beautifully shot, written and executed. The various dreams are distinctive and gorgeous. The touches of humor are brilliantly timed and delivered. It's subtle, cerebral and packed with action. Stuff I Didn't Like: I am going to miss that kidney I have to sell. Stuff I Loved: Very strong characters portrayed by skilled, damn good-looking actors. A totally immersive storytelling experience I won't soon forget. It made me think. It still does. Bottom Line: You owe it to yourself to see Inception in the cinema. Find where it's playing and go see it. It might be the best way you'll spend money on entertainment all year, and it'll stay with you long after the credits roll. Go. See. This. Film.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Sherlock Holmes

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! Sherlock Holmes — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/holmes.mp3] Necessity is the mother of invention. Along with being something Sherlock Holmes himself might utter while investigating a case, this idiom is also the reason I'm reviewing Guy Ritchie's recent feature-film treatment of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's detective. I was originally planning to subject myself to the apparent mediocrity of The Taking of Pelham 123, since it's been a while since I've found a movie average enough to warrant my ire, but my financial situation has caused Netflix to give me dirty looks instead of instantly streaming movies until I get my act together. Surprisingly, though, my desire to sound more like a critic and less like a fanboy is still going to be satisfied. You see, if it weren't for the presence of Holmes & Watson, Sherlock Holmes would feel a lot like a movie that's trying to both follow the lead of Pirates of the Caribbean and shamelessly appeal to the steampunk kids. When it comes to Victorian England it's hard to imagine a detective with more fame, quirks and intensity than Sherlock Holmes. He's often called in by Scotland Yard to help them solve the more baffling crimes that cross their desk, when he isn't employed by private interests. For years, assistance has come to Holmes in the person of John Watson, an Army veteran and skilled doctor. However, Watson is intending to get married which means he'll be moving out of their shared living quarters on 221B Baker Street. Holmes is, for his part, unhappy with this situation and thus begins acting out, until the perpetrator of the last case on which the men worked, one Lord Blackwood, apparently rises from the dead. If there's anybody from London that can figure out how this resurrection worked, it's Sherlock Holmes. Then again, neither Encyclopedia Brown nor Nancy Drew had been born yet. The main plot of Sherlock Holmes isn't really all that mysterious. There's no real cunning at work that Dan Brown couldn't cook up to sell a few more novels that have readers picturing Tom Hanks in a hilarious mullet. It isn't necessarily bad writing, as the facts do come together relatively well without major plot holes. If you pay attention, you can see what's really going on even as people are bandying about words like "the dark arts" and "sacred order" as if Voldemort's about to show up. (Wow, I am really going for a high score of pop culture references, aren't I?)
The definition of bromance. Now, if that was where the film stopped, just at the not-so-mysterious mystery plot, I'd pass it up. But it gives us something great wrapped around this somewhat mediocre story. Robert Downey Jr. is, to be honest, the sort of Holmes I always envisioned Holmes as being. Now, I've enjoyed the portrayal of the legendary detective by the likes of Basil Rathbone and Jeremy Brett, but this disheveled, twitchy, slightly neurotic and way too brilliant for his own good Holmes really strikes a chord with me. Brilliance and madness are separated by only the thinnest of lines, and while past Holmes often play with that division, Downey dances across that line with a sense of abandon that's a joy to behold. He's not quite as great as Hugh Laurie's Doctor House, but he's pretty damn close. Over and above Downey's performance is that of Jude Law as Watson. A lot of people who've gotten hold of Doyle's material seem to think that Holmes should always be the brilliant one and Watson should only play second fiddle, being two steps behind Holmes or so rotund he has trouble keeping up. Guy Ritchie and the writers chuck those previous notions out the window, embracing Watson as an equal to Holmes, not just a straight man to the main act. Again, someone's been watching episodes of House, since this Watson, which may be the best I've ever seen, strikes a resemblance with that mad doctor's long-suffering best friend, Wilson. Together, Downey and Law have fantastic chemistry that makes the B-plot of Watson's upcoming marriage every bit as engaging as the arcane conspiracy A-plot tries to be.
"Join me, Holmes, and I'll make you forget all about Watson. We'll be together every night."
"...Blackwood, are you asking me out?" On top of the two leading men are multiple things for Sherlockians to enjoy. There's a lot of references to things mentioned even in passing within the pages of Doyle's 56 short stories and 4 novels featuring Holmes. From a certain bullet pattern to Holmes' substance abuse, if you pay attention you'll be able to draw all sorts of parallels and point to where these references are rooted. A reference that requires no research is the presence of Irene Adler, played delightfully by Rachel McAdams. Mentioned in one story as a woman that bested Holmes at his own game, Adler has grown to rather gargantuan proportions in later fan works. The notion that Holmes would occasionally box is ramped up to give the film more action, and a gadget fixation that was tangential at best allows some of the technology of the Victorian era that inspired the steampunk movement to appear along side the two-fisted adventuring and witty banter. None of this is bad, per se, but it does feel at times like a bit of pandering. The interesting thing is, none of these elements that I've taken shots at really stop the film from holding up as a well-paced period adventure. Sherlock Holmes works, and I was entertained pretty much from start to finish. If the mystery had been a little bit more clever I would be tempted to consider it a must-buy. As it is, it's definitely worth a rental before you decide to buy it. I'm definitely curious to watch it again to see if there are more Doyle references I missed the first time. There's also the fact I watched it without my wife and she's going to love this Holmes.
"Blackwood came on to me, if you can believe that."
"I can indeed. You do look like Tony Stark."
"...Who?" In closing, I can't help but feel like Guy Ritchie cribbed a few notes from Christopher Nolan. Yeah, I know, more pop culture references incoming, but stick with me. At the end of Batman Begins, Gordon hands the Caped Crusader a particular playing card. Guess who showed up in The Dark Knight and pretty much walked away with the whole damn picture? Now, I'm not saying that the similar mention made in Sherlock Holmes is going to result in a similar outcome, but I've heard the likes of Chrisoph Waltz and Daniel Day-Lewis are up for the part in question. I think we'll be finding out next year, and I'll be trying really hard not to get my hopes up. With a Holmes and Watson this good, could we please have a villain worthy of their abilities that doesn't come off as over-the-top or campy? Can we please have a sequel to a film based on one of the foundational works responsible for my interest in fiction that works as well as The Two Towers did in relation to Fellowship of the Ring? Guy Ritchie, if you read or hear this, mate, would you please make sure the sequel to Sherlock Holmes doesn't suck? Please? Josh Loomis can't always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it's unclear if this week's film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain... IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Becoming The Hero

Becoming The Hero — Blue Ink Alchemy

Every hero is a protagonist. But not every protagonist is a hero. Some characters start out as heroes, while others are just the focal point of the story. Pure heroism is a rarity in our world, so when we see a Superman or a Captain America or an Obi-Wan Kenobi, we're a bit in awe of the sight. It also makes us appreciate the likes of Batman, Iron Man and Luke Skywalker all the more, because they didn't start as heroes, they had to discover their heroism. Chuck mentioned John McClain which got me thinking on the subject. There's nothing obviously heroic about John. He's a hard-working, street-smart, somewhat abrasive but endearing kind of guy. Only when the building gets locked down and he goes into high gear to find out what's happening as well as stay alive does he reveal the aspects of himself that make him a hero. He starts as a protagonist - likable but not all that remarkable. He becomes a hero - selfless, cunning, courageous and unwilling to give up or stop while there's still villains to be fought. What other examples can you think of, when it comes to a protagonist growing into the role of hero?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

It's Dangerous To Go Alone

It's Dangerous To Go Alone — Blue Ink Alchemy

Adventure is something we crave. Sometimes we bury our desire for it under piles of paperwork and growing stacks of bills. Sometimes we come dangerously close to ruin because we ignore all else in our pursuit of a new journey, a fresh sight, a plunge into the unknown. It can difficult to balance these extremes. The world must be tended to, basic needs addressed, before flights of fancy can get off the ground. And not all flights should depart as we want, if taking off means leaving behind potentially dangerous situations. I'm the kind of person who can take off without a second thought. I'm not always rooted in the real world. And when I am, I can linger there, overwhelmed by bad news and worse situations that I'm fully aware I've put myself into. Balance is sometimes very hard for me to find. I'll be the first to admit that, as much as I want to see and do and be before my time on this planet is up, I'm not strong enough to make it on my own. I don't just need adventure. I need someone willing to adventure with me. Thanks to you, it's been a year of adventures, a year of storms to endure and sunlight to enjoy. Good and bad, thick and thin, I'm grateful for the past year and looking forward to many, many more. I love you, Danielle. Happy anniversary.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Other Way To Use Lore

The Other Way To Use Lore — Blue Ink Alchemy

Yesterday I talked about the constraints of an established universe and what to do if you want to avoid raising the ire of the fan community. However, keep in mind that this is merely advice for most fan works. Sometimes you want to break the established constructs for one reason or another. That's fine. Nothing new is created without something old being at least partially destroyed. This is done a lot in fanfiction. A lot of Mary Sues are born out of a writer's desire to break a character's norms, have them develop in a different way. Most of the time, that 'different way' is falling in love with/universally praising/getting in a situation in which they can only be saved by the aforementioned Sue. On the one hand, this isn't a bad way to acquaint oneself with writing within the constraints of a given established universe, or more than one if you're doing a crossover. On the other, be prepared for even more flak than usual depending on which direction your Sue takes you. I'm not saying all fan fiction has Sues or author insertion characters. The crossover epic Unity keeps the characters from both established universes pretty consistent while playing with reader expectations. If pressed to recommend some "good" fan fiction, that'd be it. And then there are parodies. A good example of using lore for the purpose of parody is a YouTube series called The GMod Idiot Box, created by some guy calling himself Das Bo Schitt. While there's some pretty screwball comedy that goes on within the episodes, he actually goes to some length describing how his characters came to be. He couples familiar sights and sounds from popular Valve games with well-chosen music and some classic comedy gags. I can't say everybody would enjoy the videos, as some of the comedy borders on the juvenile, but some of it does get me rolling on the floor laughing. Which says a lot about me, I guess. Anyway, those are a couple ways a writer or artist can use established lore without staying entirely constrained within its mores. What are some others?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Other Way To Use Lore

The Other Way To Use Lore — Blue Ink Alchemy

Yesterday I talked about the constraints of an established universe and what to do if you want to avoid raising the ire of the fan community. However, keep in mind that this is merely advice for most fan works. Sometimes you want to break the established constructs for one reason or another. That's fine. Nothing new is created without something old being at least partially destroyed. This is done a lot in fanfiction. A lot of Mary Sues are born out of a writer's desire to break a character's norms, have them develop in a different way. Most of the time, that 'different way' is falling in love with/universally praising/getting in a situation in which they can only be saved by the aforementioned Sue. On the one hand, this isn't a bad way to acquaint oneself with writing within the constraints of a given established universe, or more than one if you're doing a crossover. On the other, be prepared for even more flak than usual depending on which direction your Sue takes you. I'm not saying all fan fiction has Sues or author insertion characters. The crossover epic Unity keeps the characters from both established universes pretty consistent while playing with reader expectations. If pressed to recommend some "good" fan fiction, that'd be it. And then there are parodies. A good example of using lore for the purpose of parody is a YouTube series called The GMod Idiot Box, created by some guy calling himself Das Bo Schitt. While there's some pretty screwball comedy that goes on within the episodes, he actually goes to some length describing how his characters came to be. He couples familiar sights and sounds from popular Valve games with well-chosen music and some classic comedy gags. I can't say everybody would enjoy the videos, as some of the comedy borders on the juvenile, but some of it does get me rolling on the floor laughing. Which says a lot about me, I guess. Anyway, those are a couple ways a writer or artist can use established lore without staying entirely constrained within its mores. What are some others?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Mind the Lore

Mind the Lore — Blue Ink Alchemy

So Blizzard's having this contest and I wrote something for it. Given that this is a piece of fiction written within an established universe it is, in essence, a work of fan fiction. Now there's a lot of fan fiction, from the drabbles that put Harry Potter in bed with Draco Malfoy to the novels published in the universes of Warhammer or Star Wars. There are some things, in my experience, that separate good works of this type from the bad ones. It all comes down to doing the research. If you want to avoid derailing a character's development, ensure your work fits into the tapestry of the universe and match the tone of previous works while providing your unique voice, you have to know the facts about your piece back to front. If the universe began as movies, watch them; as novels, read them; as games, play them. Know the characters, settings, themes and moods. A lot of established fictional universes have on-line resources, from basic fan-sites to extensive wikis - make use of these resources. There's established lore out there, and if you ignore it, by either not researching it or choosing to omit it, bad things can happen. It might not make the work entirely unsuccessful, but you might have to weather criticism such as "This character would never act that way," "The timeline of these events is all screwed up," or "[insert author name here] doesn't know how to write women properly." Walking into a place filled with lore looking to tell a new story can be a lot like walking into a minefield. If you don't watch your step, your journey will end very abruptly and messily. Just be careful.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! The Hangover

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! The Hangover — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/hangover.mp3] Crazy nights and weekends are the stuff modern legends are made of. They do things like deprive you of money, give you interesting hickeys, or keep you from posting a regular blog feature on time. Most of the time, though, you at least have the benefit of remembering how you got into a situation where you need to delay a car payment or explain to your significant other the lipstick on your collar. Or shorts. The three gentlemen at the center of The Hangover, however, don't have that luxury. The more they discover about the best night of their lives that they can't remember, the more the audience discovers how surprisingly and raucously funny this movie is.
Normally I'd put the poster here, but I like this shot a lot more and it's basically the same thing. The set-up goes something like this: Doug is about to get married. His best man, a schoolteacher named Phil, is taking him to Las Vegas for his bachelor party. Along for the ride are mutual friend & dentist Stu, who is taking the opportunity to escape his shrew of a girlfriend for at least a few hours, and Doug's brother-in-law-to-be, Alan, a character that can be most charitably described as "quirky." Upon arriving in Vegas and changing for the night out, Phil takes the group to the roof, toasts with Jagermeister and says that no matter what happens, as far as anybody outside of the four of them are concerned, it didn't happen. The next morning, Phil, Stu and Alan wake to find their hotel suite a wreck, a chicken wandering in the sitting room, a tiger in the bathroom and a baby in the closet. None of them can remember a thing. Stu's lost a tooth, Alan's lost his pants, and worst of all, Phil has lost Doug. MovieBob has gone on record to say that good comedy is pretty much "review-proof." You can't talk at length about the movie's nuances or artifice without giving away some of the humor and thus diluting the overall experience. Now, granted, Bob was talking about Hot Tub Time Machine which I saw the same night as The Hangover. In my opinion, Hot Tub is good (better than Grandma's Boy to be sure) but The Hangover is exemplary. Why? Because while I was watching it, when I recovered from the latest fit of laughter, I found myself thinking, "Wow! Somebody actually bothered to write this damn thing!"
The chicken has all of the answers. Shame it can't talk. Now, not all comedy required a coherent or even realistic narrative through-line. What The Hangover does just as well as its jokes is show us what can be done when a comedy has a coherent, realistic narrative through-line. As the story unfolds, the film reveals itself not just as a good adult male bonding comedy but also something of a mystery story. And while this is a comedy, it's not a shallow, easy-to-solve mystery that the Scooby-Doo gang could've knocked out. The characters need to piece together what happened over the course of that wild Vegas night, or the bride patiently preparing for the biggest day of her life won't have a groom to marry. The film's aware of the ticking clock and makes us aware of it, too, but not in such a way that it becomes too serious or overshadows the laugh. It's a well-written, well-balanced and very funny script. Now, it's not a script that's terribly original, outside of the 'we don't remember what the hell happened last night' hook. And the characters are pretty stock - Phil's the cool guy, Stu's the henpecked guy, and Alan's just plain weird. Yeah, they're going to learn lessons about their lives in the midst of their caper, nothing new there. But what works is the fact that these characters, standard fare they may be, are presented with pretty straight-faced aplomb by the leads. Bradley Cooper in particular as Phil carries a lot of the movie, often being the voice of reason just moments after being the smirking handsome enabler of his less-fortunate friends. It's the kind of thing you'd typically see Bill Murray or Vince Vaughn doing, but Cooper does it very well. Jeffrey Tambor and Heather Graham really shine as well in their supporting roles. The father-in-law character being understanding surprised me, and while the hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold did not, Heather's still a great actress.
Alan looks a bit like a Jewish gangster in this shot, if you ask me. I'm running out of things I can discuss without spoiling some very funny jokes, so here's the last major point I'll make: one thing that makes The Hangover work so well is a lack of contrivance. With a couple of exceptions, everything that happens in the movie does happen for a reason that makes sense. The presence of the tiger in the bathroom, the car that arrives when the guys hand in their valet ticket, the contents of the Mercedes' trunk - none of it is resolved in a snap-of-the-fingers kind of way. There's never a wink at the audience that lesser screenwriters would use to smooth over rough spots in the script. This isn't to say that The Hangover is free of flaws. There is a level of predictability to some of the situations, but the ones you don't see coming will surprise you. The three leads are characters you've seen before, sure. But there are other characters and a well-hyped cameo that are surprises in and of themselves. A good joke that's told well with the right timing is every bit as funny as it is when you first hear it. The Hangover does those jokes very well, and I was surprised at how much I liked it. If you haven't seen it already, do so. If you have, it might be worth watching again, especially with some friends who might not have had the privilege. When you do get the DVD from Netflix, though, can someone please tell me why the only difference between a theatrical release and an "unrated version" is a drastically increased amount of hairy man-ass? Josh Loomis can't always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it's unclear if this week's film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain... IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! The Hangover

IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! The Hangover — Blue Ink Alchemy

[audio:http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/uploads/hangover.mp3] Crazy nights and weekends are the stuff modern legends are made of. They do things like deprive you of money, give you interesting hickeys, or keep you from posting a regular blog feature on time. Most of the time, though, you at least have the benefit of remembering how you got into a situation where you need to delay a car payment or explain to your significant other the lipstick on your collar. Or shorts. The three gentlemen at the center of The Hangover, however, don't have that luxury. The more they discover about the best night of their lives that they can't remember, the more the audience discovers how surprisingly and raucously funny this movie is.
Normally I'd put the poster here, but I like this shot a lot more and it's basically the same thing. The set-up goes something like this: Doug is about to get married. His best man, a schoolteacher named Phil, is taking him to Las Vegas for his bachelor party. Along for the ride are mutual friend & dentist Stu, who is taking the opportunity to escape his shrew of a girlfriend for at least a few hours, and Doug's brother-in-law-to-be, Alan, a character that can be most charitably described as "quirky." Upon arriving in Vegas and changing for the night out, Phil takes the group to the roof, toasts with Jagermeister and says that no matter what happens, as far as anybody outside of the four of them are concerned, it didn't happen. The next morning, Phil, Stu and Alan wake to find their hotel suite a wreck, a chicken wandering in the sitting room, a tiger in the bathroom and a baby in the closet. None of them can remember a thing. Stu's lost a tooth, Alan's lost his pants, and worst of all, Phil has lost Doug. MovieBob has gone on record to say that good comedy is pretty much "review-proof." You can't talk at length about the movie's nuances or artifice without giving away some of the humor and thus diluting the overall experience. Now, granted, Bob was talking about Hot Tub Time Machine which I saw the same night as The Hangover. In my opinion, Hot Tub is good (better than Grandma's Boy to be sure) but The Hangover is exemplary. Why? Because while I was watching it, when I recovered from the latest fit of laughter, I found myself thinking, "Wow! Somebody actually bothered to write this damn thing!"
The chicken has all of the answers. Shame it can't talk. Now, not all comedy required a coherent or even realistic narrative through-line. What The Hangover does just as well as its jokes is show us what can be done when a comedy has a coherent, realistic narrative through-line. As the story unfolds, the film reveals itself not just as a good adult male bonding comedy but also something of a mystery story. And while this is a comedy, it's not a shallow, easy-to-solve mystery that the Scooby-Doo gang could've knocked out. The characters need to piece together what happened over the course of that wild Vegas night, or the bride patiently preparing for the biggest day of her life won't have a groom to marry. The film's aware of the ticking clock and makes us aware of it, too, but not in such a way that it becomes too serious or overshadows the laugh. It's a well-written, well-balanced and very funny script. Now, it's not a script that's terribly original, outside of the 'we don't remember what the hell happened last night' hook. And the characters are pretty stock - Phil's the cool guy, Stu's the henpecked guy, and Alan's just plain weird. Yeah, they're going to learn lessons about their lives in the midst of their caper, nothing new there. But what works is the fact that these characters, standard fare they may be, are presented with pretty straight-faced aplomb by the leads. Bradley Cooper in particular as Phil carries a lot of the movie, often being the voice of reason just moments after being the smirking handsome enabler of his less-fortunate friends. It's the kind of thing you'd typically see Bill Murray or Vince Vaughn doing, but Cooper does it very well. Jeffrey Tambor and Heather Graham really shine as well in their supporting roles. The father-in-law character being understanding surprised me, and while the hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold did not, Heather's still a great actress.
Alan looks a bit like a Jewish gangster in this shot, if you ask me. I'm running out of things I can discuss without spoiling some very funny jokes, so here's the last major point I'll make: one thing that makes The Hangover work so well is a lack of contrivance. With a couple of exceptions, everything that happens in the movie does happen for a reason that makes sense. The presence of the tiger in the bathroom, the car that arrives when the guys hand in their valet ticket, the contents of the Mercedes' trunk - none of it is resolved in a snap-of-the-fingers kind of way. There's never a wink at the audience that lesser screenwriters would use to smooth over rough spots in the script. This isn't to say that The Hangover is free of flaws. There is a level of predictability to some of the situations, but the ones you don't see coming will surprise you. The three leads are characters you've seen before, sure. But there are other characters and a well-hyped cameo that are surprises in and of themselves. A good joke that's told well with the right timing is every bit as funny as it is when you first hear it. The Hangover does those jokes very well, and I was surprised at how much I liked it. If you haven't seen it already, do so. If you have, it might be worth watching again, especially with some friends who might not have had the privilege. When you do get the DVD from Netflix, though, can someone please tell me why the only difference between a theatrical release and an "unrated version" is a drastically increased amount of hairy man-ass? Josh Loomis can't always make it to the local megaplex, and thus must turn to alternative forms of cinematic entertainment. There might not be overpriced soda pop & over-buttered popcorn, and it's unclear if this week's film came in the mail or was delivered via the dark & mysterious tubes of the Internet. Only one thing is certain... IT CAME FROM NETFLIX.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Shameless Filler

Shameless Filler — Blue Ink Alchemy

If you're reading this, the location I'm at in New Jersey does not have Internet access, and I'll be unable to upload my IT CAME FROM NETFLIX! review of The Hangover. If that's the case, accept my sincere apologies, look for the review tomorrow, and here's a picture of a kitten.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Increasingly Fine

Increasingly Fine — Blue Ink Alchemy

My friend - maybe it'd be best to call him a "pen pal"? - Chuck Wendig had this to say in regards to the task that must follow the completion of a first draft:

Writing is rewriting. A writer's arsenal of talents are brought to bear on the first draft, but his skills (the things he has learned) go to bat during the second. The first draft requires a sledgehammer, the subsequent drafts require scalpels, each smaller and sharper than the last.

This is a very good point that he made, one that I hadn't considered. When one sits down to bang out the first draft, to cross the yawning chasm of unwritten words between the first syllable of chapter one and the last predicate of the last sentence, it's usually not done with advice from The Elements of Style clearly in mind. It's done to get it done. Once it's done, it could almost be said that the real work begins. Drafting the work in the first run is less about finesse and precision and more about words just flowing from the writer's imagination onto the page. Revision is almost a different animal entirely, yet we don't get marketable work out of what we create without it. We have to use an increasingly fine set of tools to whittle the amorphous shape of the draft into a polished, well-shaped chronicle poised to leave the shelves of a bookseller with at least a leisurely stroll. The first pass is done with a bit of abandon. Extraneous words are yanked out. Sentences are broken up. Dialog, scenery, even entire sequences of events are rearranged. This is the 'chainsaw' revision. Following this is the 'scissors' stage. Dangling bits are trimmed back. The work begins to take more shape. It becomes more fashionable, but not quite exactly what we're looking for. Finally you reach the point of employing the 'scalpel'. A word here, a suffix there, just little touches that make a good effort something truly special. Provided it finds its way to the right agent. That's how I see it, anyway, now that I've been set straight. Am I missing any stages? What've your experiences been moving from one to the next?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

Increasingly Fine

Increasingly Fine — Blue Ink Alchemy

My friend - maybe it'd be best to call him a "pen pal"? - Chuck Wendig had this to say in regards to the task that must follow the completion of a first draft:

Writing is rewriting. A writer's arsenal of talents are brought to bear on the first draft, but his skills (the things he has learned) go to bat during the second. The first draft requires a sledgehammer, the subsequent drafts require scalpels, each smaller and sharper than the last.

This is a very good point that he made, one that I hadn't considered. When one sits down to bang out the first draft, to cross the yawning chasm of unwritten words between the first syllable of chapter one and the last predicate of the last sentence, it's usually not done with advice from The Elements of Style clearly in mind. It's done to get it done. Once it's done, it could almost be said that the real work begins. Drafting the work in the first run is less about finesse and precision and more about words just flowing from the writer's imagination onto the page. Revision is almost a different animal entirely, yet we don't get marketable work out of what we create without it. We have to use an increasingly fine set of tools to whittle the amorphous shape of the draft into a polished, well-shaped chronicle poised to leave the shelves of a bookseller with at least a leisurely stroll. The first pass is done with a bit of abandon. Extraneous words are yanked out. Sentences are broken up. Dialog, scenery, even entire sequences of events are rearranged. This is the 'chainsaw' revision. Following this is the 'scissors' stage. Dangling bits are trimmed back. The work begins to take more shape. It becomes more fashionable, but not quite exactly what we're looking for. Finally you reach the point of employing the 'scalpel'. A word here, a suffix there, just little touches that make a good effort something truly special. Provided it finds its way to the right agent. That's how I see it, anyway, now that I've been set straight. Am I missing any stages? What've your experiences been moving from one to the next?

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Blue Ink Alchemy

When You're Evil

When You're Evil — Blue Ink Alchemy

Russ Pitts' triumphant return as an Escapist columnist prompted me to finally lay down some thoughts on villainy. A little roleplaying in World of Warcraft on my characters reminded me how much fun it can be to write for or portray a villain. My brother-in-law, when running Dungeons & Dragons is described as "an evil DM," always bringing out the malevolence in his NPCs so that the player characters in his campaigns are always motivated to dispense a little adventurous justice. My father's an attorney. I'm surrounded by villainy. There are all sorts of villains, however, and every one of them sees themselves more or less in a positive light, if not convinced that they are the hero. Let's stay with the D&D theme for a few archetypal examples.

Lawful Evil

Some villains actually try to uphold the law. Sure, the laws might be corrupt or warped in some way, but it's still a structure for peace and order. Police states can be peaceful, after all. There are also villains who have a personal code of honor they will not violate under any circumstances. "No women, no kids," for example. Sometimes they verge a bit into anti-hero territory, but for the most part, these villains don't pursue villainy for its own sake - they pursue the law, or justice, as they see it. Take Darth Vader. For the most part, when he is Darth Vader, he's hunting down terrorists and insurgents, trying to stop a full-on rebellion against the established government. His methods are somewhat draconian and he isn't one to compromise or even show remorse, but he's pursing a noble end in the eyes of the Empire's creators.

Neutral Evil

Some people are motivated selfishly. They want what they want, and that's it. Some are compromised in the pursuit of their desires by their morals or ethics, or the restrictions of society's laws. Others... not so much. They're seen as villains, but in their own minds, they're just getting what they want. Not quite as unpredictable as the upcoming alignment, but not as restricted as their lawful cousins, neutral evil characters are wild cards. They're often as charismatic as they are ruthless, as fun to be around as they are chillingly dominant. They strive to be masters of their domain, and really could care less about things that aren't the things that they want. Look no further than Eric Northman of HBO's True Blood for a fantastic example of both a Neutral Evil character who's also a Magnificent Bastard. Even when he's acting his most vampiric, speaking in cold, dispassionate tones about human beings like they're slabs of meat, there's something of a twinkle in his eye, the occasional twitch of his mouth that reaches for a smirk. We do see other sides of him, especially when it comes to his Maker, but for the most part he's about as evil as Neutral Evil can get.

Chaotic Evil

You have villains who pursue the law or their own code of honor for the sake of those laws or that code. You have villains who just want what they feel is coming to them, even if they have to lie, cheat, or murder to get it. And then you have these guys. Chaotic Evil villains aren't necessarily crazy. They might, however, string you up by your nostril hairs and slap you around with meter-long pieces of rebar if you call them crazy. No, Chaotic Evil villains are motivated by a desire to destroy everything they see so something new can be built up in its place. Or perhaps they've had a vision of Hell coming to Earth to shake the complacent religious types out of their stupor and give them something worth fighting for if their faith is, indeed, true. They have a goal in mind, but the path to that goal isn't exactly mapped out. If it were, the map would be covered in squiggles of blood and crayon. They may believe what they're doing will ultimately benefit the world, in some way shape or form, but for the most part? They just do things. Which brings me to the late Heath Ledger's Joker. Cesar Romero, Jack Nicholson and Mark Hamill have all taken turns playing Batman's favorite monstrous clown, but Heath & Dark Knight director Christopher Nolan took the insanity to a whole new level. By removing some of the more ridiculous trappings of the character and focusing on his anarchistic mindset, the Joker came across as a true agent of chaos. He wanted to show people what he felt was their true nature. His goal was to bring down the carefully-crafted artifices of civility and organization some used to hide their deepest desires. He lived out loud, which is something any artist should want to do, but did it in a very violent and very infectious way. It affected everybody around him, as he probably knew it would. He just didn't know how. Nor did he know for certain what he'd do next - just that something needed doing. Name some of your favorite bad guys. Where do you think they fall? How do you think they see themselves? And how might their villainy be perceived as heroism by some? Food for thought.

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Blue Ink Alchemy