Your First Published Novel: Part 14

Death by Cliché.

It's been September since I updated you on my first novel, mainly because not a lot has happened. The time between turning in the final edit and the release of the book has a fairly broad dead spot at the begning of it. There is general whining and pestering of course. Maybe some crying. But you don't need to hear about Wymore's personal life.

But now we're almost two months out from release, so things are moving again.

About a month ago we recieved the first concept pieces for the cover. Overall, I liked the direction they were heading. They asked me my opinion and told me their favorite. I was my favorite as well. I had some notes on the general look and feel, concerns based on just how unfinished the concepts were and how finished they were supposed to be (I haven't approved concepts quite like this before, so I wasn't sure how crude they were SUPPOSED to look.) I turned those in and the people at CQ assured me that they had the same notes.

Meanwhile, it's time to start marketing. We decided some time ago that a podcast tour might be better than a blog tour. I know a fair amount of podcasters, so most of those I'm just going to set up myself, but there are a couple places I'd like to appear that I thought could use a little legitamacy to set me apart from the self publishing crowd. So I turned those two names in to the marketing team so they can approach the sites as a publisher rather than an author pushing is own work. I think that will work out.

I've also started thinking about my book release party. Here's the thing. For my first book, anyone who's likely to come to my book release party is either going to buy my book anyway, or will never buy it under any circumstances (that is, friends and family). :) Just having a traditional book release really only serves the purpose of giving me practice at holding a traditional book release. If I sold one additional copy from it, I'd be pleasantly surprised.

So I decided that I wanted to do something different. I know a fair number of comedians in Utah, so I pinged them on Facebook and asked if they'd like to perform at a book release party. Four said yes and another person agreed to MC. I bounced this off the CQ people and they liked the idea but thought that it might not go over well at a Barnes and Noble. Nikki at CQ suggested that I try a comic book store. I adjusted that idea slightly and decided to approach Hatur's Games and Comics. 

They seemed ammenible so we set a date. Then I contacted the commedians and discovered that date was right in the middle of Phoenix Comic Con. Which I knew, dammit. So I called by and rearranged. The book release party is about a week and a half after the book's actual release, but that shouldn't matter much with a first book. On later releases, it might be more important.

I expect the commedians will bring in new blood. People will only come to my release party for my first book because they already know about my book. People will come to see the commedians, howerver, who have never heard of me. 

So thats where things stand. The book releases on May 30th. The book release party is June 11th. My mad scramble escalates steadily from now until then.

The Hero's Journey, Spoilerific Star Wars: The Force Awakens Continues. Part 3: The Return

Blah blah blah, joke about not making a joke about Wymore. Blah blah blah.

So we left Rey complete, a whole and fulfilled character, standing over the body or Kylo Ren, about to die.

Refusal of the Return

Often, once the hero has completed the quest, they do not want to return to the real world to bestow their boon upon humanity. That isn't really a thing in the Force Awakens, as the world is currently blowing up around Rey.

The Magic Flight and Rescue from Without

Typically two separate steps, these neatly combine in the Force Awakens. In the Magic Flight, the hero returns, often sustained by all the powers they've earned in their adventures. In Rescue from Without, the hero often needs to be retrieved to return to the world. In the Force Awakens, as Rey cries over the dying form of Finn, both of these moments are realized as the Falcon rises into shot, Chewbacca at the helm.

The Crossing of the Return Threshold

The hero must return to the world, somehow retaining the wisdom they've gained. This moment is most notable for Rey when she leaves the Falcon and meets Leia for the first time. They embrace, and Rey is back to the grounded person she once was in this simple human moment. She also experiences, according to the screenplay, "A mother's embrace."

Master of Two Worlds

Rey has returned, but we need to see that she retains her mastery of both worlds. And so after R2 awakens with the rest of the map, she says goodbye to Finn and sets out again. This time to finally find the lost Jedi master, Luke Skywalker. We see her land on the island, knowing that this is place Ren mentioned from her dreams. She has always been the master of two worlds. And now she knows it.

Freedom to Live

At the end, our hero lives free from fear of death. Free to live in the moment. existing in the present. Unconcerned with the future or the past. Does this sound like any philosophy we know?

And so we see Rey climb the steps of the island, invoking the images of temples and monasteries throughout history. And at the top, we find Luke Skywalker. And he turns. And she holds out the lightsaber.

And there is nothing in the world more important than this moment.

The Hero's Journey, Spoilerific Star Wars: The Force Awakens Continues. Part 2: Initiation

Wymore gave me edits back, so until everything is approved, we'll keep doing Star Wars and not spreading the truth about his horrible depravities.

Last week we followed Rey from her introduction to her first real trial, the escape in the Millennium Falcon and we finished with her being swallowed by Han's ship. So let's begin the initiation section of the hero's journey.

The Road of Trials

In the hero's journey, the road of trials is a series of tests that show the character's mettle. They also break down the hero, so she knows just how difficult her path will be. Rey's road of trials probably began when the Falcon started falling apart and they were all going to die of poisonous gas, but I liked the image of the Falcon being swallowed so I lumped those in with Belly of the Whale.

Now Rey is in Solo's freighter and the freighter gets boarded. Her and Finn end up under the flooring (more belly of the whale imagery). 

Now, the hero often fails one of these trials, because the hero isn't perfect. So it isn't a surprise that Rey accidently releases the Rathar and almost get's Finn killed. She saves him though and humbly doesn't mention that it was her, just saying, "That was lucky!"

They escape in the Falcon, Rey knocking down one challenge after the other to help Han get the old girl flying again. They escape to hyperspace.

The Meeting with the Goddess

In this stage, the hero experiences the perfect-almost divine love of a mother to an infant. This love is transformative, and Rey's experience is not any different.

There haven't been many Meeting with the Goddess scenes better than the one with Moz. She is interesting, quirky, wise. She seems to pick out Rey's unique status (and parentage?) instantly, "Who's the girl?" Is it the lightsaber that calls Rey to the basement, or is it really Moz? I suspect that it's the latter, that while the lightsaber triggers her visions, it's Moz that senses the potential connection and gives her a little push.

Rey finds Luke's Lightsaber. We've talked about her vision, and how Kylo seems to save her during it. The entire thing is very disconcerting, but Rey's first brush with complete acceptance and love comes after, when she meets Moz in the hall and is told that her family is behind her, what she seeks it before her. Moz's confidence in Rey is powerful, touching. Han started this ball rolling when he told her the Jedi were real, but this is the moment of truth when Moz gives Rey the seeds of faith and knowledge that will play out through the rest of the movie.

Woman as Temptress

Here the hero is tempted, often with pleasures of the flesh. The Woman in this case, is Kylo Ren, during the interrogation of Rey. I'm not just saying this because he has fabulous hair. I'm not saying it because the gender roles are reversed. I don't think she's actually attracted to him.

But Kylo, when violating her mind, outlines her deepest wishes. Her loneliness. The island in the ocean she dreams of at night. Most of all, Han Solo as a father figure. He really bungles this scene, as temptresses go, but he lays it out there. There is an implication that things would go better for her if she stopped fighting.

This is one of the weakest bit of her journey so far (as the monomyth goes) because Kylo misplays his hand very badly, but she rejects any idea of compliance when she tells him his own fear and rattles him.

Atonement with the Father

In atonement with Father, our hero must be initiated by whatever holds the ultimate power in her life. For Rey, I think this comes in two steps. First, she embraces the force for the first time, using the Jedi mind trick on James Bond in stormtrooper garb. The more direct image comes a bit after that when Han and Finn show up to rescue her. That second one is probably more to show a literal image than to actually satisfy the hero's journey. The ultimate power in Rey's life is the force. And the real father in this moment is probably her birth father, who passed the bloodline, strong in the force.

Apotheosis

When the hero dies a physical or spiritual death, they are reborn into a more divine state of bliss and joy, they have their apotheosis. Rey's comes when Kylo "kills" her by smashing her into the tree. And then she is alive and takes Luke's lightsaber for her own, and Rey becomes the Rey we've been waiting for the entire movie.

The Ultimate Boon

The Ultimate Boon is when the Hero achieves the quest. Here, Kylo offers to be her teacher, but Rey realizes that the only teacher she needs in that moment is the force. She becomes the fledgling Jedi and defeats Kylo Ren. She has her moment, teetering on the dark side, but then she doesn't strike out of anger.

Rey, standing over Kylo Ren, has finally and completely, become the next hero of the Star Wars Universe. She has, whether literally or symbolically, shown herself to be the scion of the Skywalkers and our hope for the future.

Too bad she appears to be about to die.

Tune in next week for the final section of the Hero's Journey, The Return.

The Hero's Journey, Spoilerific Star Wars: The Force Awakens Continues. Part 1: Departure

We're back to Star Wars, so Wymore is still in the clear. Which is good because I had so many cutting insults. Just so, so many. Honest.

I've been talking about tackling the Hero's Journey in my final analysis of The Force Awakens for some time now. I may even have mentioned it in the blog. Well this week we tackle that. Or the first third of that. Or whatever I finish before dinner.

In 1949, Joseph Campbell defined a template for a hero who goes on an adventure, meets a crisis, has a victory, and returns home. Called the Monomyth or the Hero's Journey, this template was famously applied to the original Star Wars. Not every heroes journey hits every step, but the Force Awakens looks adhere's well, so let's dig in!

For another great movie analysis of the Hero's Journey, see God Has Videotape and it's analysis of the Matrix.

The Call to Adventure

The Hero's Journey starts with the status quo, then something enters the hero's life, some new bit of information that acts as a call to adventure.

In The Force Awakens, the call comes in the form of BB-8. We begin with Rey as a scavenger. We see her scrimping to live on Jakku. We see her on the verge of starvation, but we see something more. We see the rebel pilot doll in her things. We watch her eating dinner with the pilot's helmet on, and it's clear that she's dreaming of other places of better things. This is a person meant for adventure. That is clear to us. It just might not be clear to herself.

And then she hears BB-8's call for help. A literal call. She rushes to the cute little guy's aid and she rescues him. It's obvious he asks her for help.

Refusal of the Call

And she says no. Of course she says no. It's obvious to everyone that this little guy is part of something bigger. Helping him will pull her out of her comfortable little life.

Campbell tells us that the hero often refuses the call, through feelings of inadequacy or insecurity, perhaps. The refusal is important, because if the hero accepts the call immediately, they will seem eager. Full of themselves. We can't relate to a hero just happily says, "Save the world? I'm your gal!" That person is too full of themselves. We like our heroes reluctant and full of self-doubt.

Rey spends a lot of time refusing calls, because there are two different stories here, the overarching story of the trilogy and the immediate story of this movie. We're dealing with just this movie and so the call in question is the call to help the resistance. We'll look at the call to the force in other films. It may be relevant in our analysis of Episode VIII, but we might also have to wait until the entire trilogy is done.

So she tells BB-8 that he can only stay with her one night. We know that won't stand, but it's touching when Unkar tries to buy the droid off her. Here's her moment. She can have everything she wants, and she's already told the droid she won't help him. She has all the food in her arms when she realizes that she can't do it. While saving the droid might be beyond her and her humble life, letting the droid fall into nefarious hands is even further beyond her.

Supernatural Aid

Once our hero has accepted her call, she needs a supernatural helper. In Rey's story, this helper falls from the stars, not a fallen angel, but a fallen devil, a creature who represents evil and oppression, searching for his own redemption. We are talking, of course, of Finn.

Of course in our modern age, the supernatural aid can't be an old wizard carrying a lightsaber. She barely accepts the aid "stop taking my hand!" But it's there. Finn is a somewhat bumbling helper, but that's okay, because Rey is there to help him right back.

Crossing the Threshold

Crossing the threshold occurs when our hero first crosses the field of adventure. This is beautifully depicted after the stormtoopers attack, when Rey and Finn sprint across the desert and decide to take the Millenium Falcon. They climb inside and have their first major adventure, their running fight with the Tie Fighters. At the end of this, we see our hero for who she is. Powerful. Competent. Childlike. Eager. Endearing. If we haven't fallen in love with Rey yet, we're in love with her by the time we see her practically jumping up and down with delight and excitement and a little disbelief over what she and Finn just accomplished together.

Belly of the Whale

The belly of the whale shows that the character has entered into the adventure willingly. This is when we discover she is capable of metamorphosis.

For Rey, this probably begins during the Tie Fighter battle, but it continues, thematically, to the Falcon being taken into the belly of Han's new cargo ship. Now she is literally in the belly, and her crucible has truly begun.

Tune in next week and we'll explore Rey's Initiation. Same bat time. Same bat channel.

Charisma Is Not a Dump Stat

James Wymore is a cheese-eating, pizza-loving, milk-shake-drinking, cookie-making... Dammit. I still don't have it back. Those things are all still awesome.

You know what else are awesome? Conventions. (In the "business" we call that a segue.) I've been doing conventions since Writers of the Future, about 12 years. In that 12 years I've built up a nice little network of professional friends.

THIS IS GOING TO SOUND LIKE A BRAGGING POST. I actually feel really weird posting it. I mention people in blogs, but usually it's so they will see their names, not so that you will see their names. Except for Wymore. The world must be warned about Wymore.

[Start Name Dropping] I went to worldcon with Brandon Sanderson and Dan Wells. I've eaten many meals with Larry Correia (and once I gave him an L5R map I made). Kevin J. Anderson happily shouts insults at me when he passes me in the Comic Con green room. I ate dinner with Adrian Paul once. Howard Tayler once had his readers break my web page (and downloaded something like ten thousand copies of my audiobook in the process). It is impossible for me to walk to the bathroom at a Utah Convention without a strategy and my game face. I have four stand-up comedians volunteering to perform at my book release. I found out last year I have fans that are only fans for me doing one specific type of game panel that Wymore does.[/End Name Dropping]

Now whether I convert these in sales is a whole other matter, and we'll see how well I do in May. But even if I fail at closing, it's hard to argue I haven't done better than average at the setup. So how do you do it?

I don't know for sure, but I can tell you this: Howard Tayler used to run panels, I was on at least one, called Charisma Is Not a Dump Stat. The point was that being likable among fans was every bit as important as being good at your job.

And often, that's all about the conventions. People who come to you events already like you. At conventions, you meet new people. I feel like whatever my skills as a writer, I've gotten pretty good at conventions. People were lying to get into my Plot a Novel in an Hour Friday at the Life the Universe and Everything academic symposium. The woman in charge of programming came up to me to tell me that she'd given me a good spot at the book signing because she assumed I was going to have a large line. I had to break it to her that my book wasn't out yet.

I was thinking a lot about this at LTUE. This is the last time I do this Symposium without a book released, and I have only one other convention on my schedule before the release date. So I paid close attention to the things that I've come to do without thinking.

Some of it might not fit your personality and you don't want to ape me  on everything, but some of it, (the tipping for instance) is just a good public service lesson.

So here we go:

Remember one telling detail about everyone you meet. If you can even pull out "How's the self-publishing business going for you?" they won't even ask if you know their name, they will feel special, and they will remember you fondly.

Try to make sure everyone who's name you DO know hear that name called out in joy at least once. Once a day, if possible. I greet people starting about thirty feet away. Having someone greet you warmly is good. Hearing your name shouted from a crowd is better.

Feed people. Invite people to eat. Communal eating brings us together as humans.

Try to find at least one person who is too shy to start a conversation. get them to talk about what they love. This isn't because that person might one day be famous. This is just about paying it forward. I once realized that Roberta Pournelle (Jerry Pournelle's wife) singles out the shyest writer at the Writer's of the Future BBQ and makes them talk about themselves. I want to be that good of a person. So do you.

Take moderating seriously. I've posted about it before. Here's a summary from this LTUE:

If you are on par with the fame of the other panelists, try to keep your remarks to a minimum. You are a moderator, so they should speak more than you, but you're important too, so contributing your own thoughts from time to time is okay. Try to make sure everyone gets more time than you and that their time is about equal to each other.

If you have one panelist more famous than all the others, try to make sure everyone gets time to shine, but know that the audience is there to see the celebrity.

If there are a couple superstars on the panel, make sure people get to speak, but be as unobtrusive as possible. If possible, try to stay out of sight lines. I usually don't sit at the table and I wander to the corner. My job is to make the whole audience forget that I exist, except when I'm asking questions. All the while, I'm watching body language to see if any of the panelists want to speak but afraid to interrupt a big star. When I see that, I say something, like, "Jim, what do you think?" and begin hiding again. (About fifteen people tracked me down to compliment me on my moderating the Writing Action Scene's panels. Usually you only get complimented for moderating by other panelists and by random people stuck talking to you while waiting to speak to other panelists.)

If you are the most famous or have the best credentials at the table, just to the best you can.

And step up. Always be ready to moderate if the moderator is unavailable or unassigned. If you spot a moderation problem, (such as Larry Correia being assigned to moderate a panel where he should be the superstar) volunteer. The most famous person at the table shouldn't have to be worried about whether the least famous person gets to speak. The most famous person at the table should be able to concentrate on giving the audience what they came to see. The moderator can worry about everyone getting a chance to shine.

I moderated between 7-9 panels, I think. I was scheduled to moderate 3.

If a panel is dead get the energy up. In general, get people cheering before you start. If a panel has been dead despite your efforts, try to end on a high note. If a panel has an energy-sucking panelist, God help you, just do the best you can and don't be insulting.

Fights can be good. Fights can be bad. A great CIVIL fight can be the best panel at a con. If you think a fight is getting acrimonious, try laughing joyously and complimenting the other person. Make jokes about "how bad" the fight is. It will keep the mood light.

If two people are arguing in the green room and you are the type of person to automatically exclaim, "Oh my goodness!" every time you stand up, try to time that better than I did.

Overtip the wait staff. There will likely be a time during the con where you need a server to go above and beyond. I once overtipped a waitress at a hotel restaurant and then lost my voice. The next morning, at breakfast, she heard me talk and immediately made me her mother's special voice remedy (no charge). It became a breakfast tradition for the rest of the con. Aside from that, you will probably have a time where you need to eat fast to make a panel. Cultivate good relationships.

Bring mints. If you forget mints, bum mints from other people. I won't mention showering to you, because if you're reading this, you're way beyond that advice.

Be friendly and respectful to people more famous to you. Be more so to people less famous than you.

Hug those who will be hugged. Warmly greet those who won't. Know the difference. Love everyone.

If you shout "Hi" while walking in a determined fashion, people won't be offended if you don't stop. "I've got to pee!" will also get you out of a multitude of potentially rude situations, especially if you say it in a comedically panicked voice.

When going out to dinner with large groups of writers and fans, don't be afraid to overtip in advance. Just be aware that no one within two people of you at the table will get service after you do that (the wait staff will skip straight to you when they get close, ask if you need anything and leave when you answer, it's human nature). Let everyone around you know how that works and take their orders for them ("I'm fine, but Randy needs a refill and Sandra could use some more fries.")

laugh a lot.

If necessary, take over the counter pain meds. They don't call them "Ranger Candy" for nothing. You need to get through the Con. It's okay if you can't go dancing the last night.

Wear comfortable shoes.

And finally, be handsome. No, handsomer than that. Still not handsome enough... There you go.

On Character Power and Story Obstacles

I have a rule that I try not to insult Wymore on days when I talk about Star Wars. That's really starting to hurt, so I'm taking a week off star wars to call Wymore a doodie head. A poo-flinging butt monkey? A charming fellow! Dammit. I seem to have lost my touch.

Howard Tayler, when writing his story for Space Eldritch II, lamented that he needed to come with a way to make the competent main character incompetent to heighten the feeling of helplessness. Mary Robinette Kowal told him he was wrong. He needed to make her completely competent. He just needed to make it so that none of that competence mattered.

(Let's try this again: James Wymore is a rice-eating icecream jockey! Dammit. All of those things are awesome.)

Back to the post. This matter of competence has been on my mind as I write a story for an upcoming anthology. It's a cyberpunk samurai story about a professional duelist. The hitch is that said duelist is also a Buddhist pacifist.

This has been very liberating. One of the problems with making a character a professional duelist--under the employ of one of the most powerful men in the land--is exactly that matter of competence. He has to be spectacular at his job to hold that position. But how do you challenge one of the greatest living duelists in the land?

(Wymore loves children and puppies! Still not there.)

The answer became evident as I was writing the first scene. In it, the main character must duel a 17-year-old kid who wants to kill his boss, the head of the security division of a mega-corporation. He faces off against this kid while a dozen security officers stand around, looking for the opportunity to save their boss and get a promotion. Beating this kid is not a problem. It's effortless. The problem is that the kid is distraught. He isn't going to calmly bow out at first blood. The kids father is dead because of my character's boss and this kid is a sobbing mess of grief, surrounded by armed people with itchy trigger fingers. The question is: "How do I save this kid?"

It's made for an interesting dynamic. I have a character who would be a master at being the action-driven character in the story. Instead, his moral code drives him to be the manipulation character. This is compounded by the fact that his ethical code (in this case his sense of honor) is demanding that he properly serve his lord. And this is a samurai story, which means that duty, status, and face are all placing demands on the character.

It's helped crystallize several aspects of characterization that I've never been able to vocalize before. It's liberating to be able to make the character as skilled as I need, without mitigating the conflict of the story. It isn't quite a fish-out-of=water story since he didn't just become a pacifist. He wouldn't have gotten to the position without being good at doing his job without killing, but being a pacifist who's job description involves ritualized murder makes for an interesting dynamic and all sorts of inherent conflict.

(Also, Wymore loves help children and old people! <Sigh> I'll just need to keep trying.)

Spoilerific Analysis of Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Part 5: Han Solo, and His Four Movie Arc

People send me emails asking when Wymore and I are just going to kiss. Wymore loves me, of course. And of course, I know.

So I saved Han for last because I've been on this journey with Han since I was a small child. Vader was always my favorite, but when we played as kids, all the other kids wanted to be Luke. I wanted to be Han. Han Solo was cool, and he was skilled, and he was funny. I wanted to grow up to be Han. That's why I always shoot first. Be warned, Wymore.

So let's look at Han. Everyone's talking about the end of Han's story, but I think most people are missing the end of his arc, which coincides with Finn's to a great extent. This isn't surprising because saving the cat is what Finn's arch is all about and saving the cat was Han's epic moment at the end of Episode IV.

We meet Han in a "wretched hive of scum and villainy." We're set up from the beginning to expect the people with meet in the cantina are bad news, and this is backed up by the bartender's prejudice vs. droids (the first time we see that in Star Wars) and the assault and "disarming" of Walrusman. (Yes, all my Star Wars names come from the '70s Kenner action figure line.) Han is charming, a braggart, and a bit confrontational, but Kenobi singles him out of all the people in the cantina. Why?

I don't think it would be far to go to say that the Force is guiding him, but Kenobi doesn't seem very impressed with Han either. However, I would point out that Kenobi doesn't find Han in the cantina. Kenobi finds Chewie. Han is the hero in the making, but Chewie is something more important. Chewie is Han's moral center.

Of course, then we have the scene with Greedo and Han shooting first. (BTW, notice that Greedo waits for Chewie to leave before confronting Han? That's because Greedo has a working sapient brain.)

Of course, we know Han had to have a bit of a heart because he rescued Chewie from slavery at some point before this, but I'm not sure when that idea was first introduced. It looks like it was assembled over time, Brian Daley introduced the concept of the Wookiee Life Debt in the Han Solo Adventures and someone else the slavers in The Wookiee Storybook, but they might not have been combined until the Han Solo Trilogy. So we'll take the Life Debt as writ, but for the sake of Han's starting point, we'll look at the movies. They are our entrance into this story.

Let's talk a moment about Han shooting Greedo. The reason, I think, so many people object to the changes Lucas made in the Special Edition is that this scene shows Han's real starting place. While it's probably self-defense, and he might get off the hook in a trial, it's still a form a murder. Han doesn't have a choice, but he got himself into the position where he has to kill people to buy himself another day. This instance isn't exactly his fault, but him being in this situation in the first place? That's all on him. Han Solo is at the end of a long fall in this scene. He's hit rock bottom.

We learn of Han's debt from Greedo, and it's backed up by the meeting with Jabba in the Special Edition (I believe that scene appeared in the Novelization and maybe the Storybook too, I remember being aware of it before the Special Editions released). These scenes set Han's starting state nicely. He's done shady things for shady people, and now he's in trouble. I will point out that despite shooting first shenanigans, this all sets up the fact that Han has little moral compass at the beginning (or he has the compass but never checks it). If they wanted us to believe Han was a good guy from the beginning, they wouldn't have been stacking financial pressures on his shoulders to justify him rescuing Leia. A good person wouldn't need a huge and terrifying crime lord making him to the right thing.

Then we have a thrilling escape to show Han as a competent pilot and smuggler, just so that we don't think he's a total bozo. This is followed by the scene with Luke practicing against the remote, where we discover that Han doesn't believe in the Force.

I want to address something here. I've heard a lot of people complaining about things becoming legends after 20 years. Let's look at that honestly a moment. Twenty years ago was 1996. The new age movement was on the decline, but many people were still fully committed to it at the time. Now, we look back at it, and most people think its silly. I have a heard time finding a solid new age believer anymore (outside my family at least). And that was a movement that everyone in the 90s had probably encountered directly. The Jedi were an order of hundreds in a galaxy of quadrillions or quintillions of sapients (the Star Wars universe seems sparsely populated). The odds of a person meeting anyone who had ever even met a Jedi were astronomical. The odds of meeting a charlatan much better. Maybe even likely. It's no wonder that 20 years later everyone's reaction would be, "Wow, those folks were pretty gullible back then, huh?"

So they get captured, but again, Han's smuggling chops get them through. Our heroes find out about the princess. Han refuses to help until Luke dangles the idea of a reward. Now Han can't resist. His need for money is crippling. They rescue the princess.

Han, for the most part, is a complete scoundrel throughout, but we do get one glimpse of his true self when he charges the stormtroopers to save the party. What we do when we have time to think shows us who our experience has made us. What we do when we have to react on instinct shows who we are, deep down. This is an important scene, because while we want Han to come through in the end, we haven't been given a single bit of evidence he could.

So they get out. People try to shame Han into doing what's right, but he takes his money and leaves. It's not until Luke is really in trouble that Han flies back into the battle, kills Vader's wingman, and saves the day. (With accompanying lens flare).

I like to think that Chewie didn't say anything on their flight out. In my mind, he just sat in the copilot's chair, quietly watching Han as the smuggler became increasingly uncomfortable. Just a big, silent, furry pile of judgment.

In Empire, Han is a new man. The Empire Strike Back Han claims he's still a scoundrel, but we don't believe it. He's riding mounted Taun Taun patrols for the Rebellion. He has free access to the Command Center. He's on casual speaking terms with the General. It's obvious that Han is part of the Rebellion. He claims he isn't, but everyone just lets him have his personal fiction.

Of course, then Like goes missing, and Han goes out into weather everyone says a flat-out death sentence. Here we see a glimpse of the old Han, refusing to take orders and doing his own thing, but he's doing his own thing to save another, instead of himself. Then, when everything falls apart, he saves the princess too.

Now, this Han isn't a moral member of the Rebellion. We still have no real indication that he cares at all about fighting the Empire. All three times he's done what's right, he's done it to save a friend. If these friends weren't in the Rebellion, I think Han would be much happier. But they are, and Han doesn't even seem to begrudge it. It's just his life. His life has always kind of sucked.

BTW, this plays into my statements about Chewie being his conscience. Chewie doesn't care about causes nearly as much as people and interpersonal responsibilities. It isn't surprising that when Han learns morality, it looks a lot more like a Wookiee's Life Debt than it does a Human's noble cause.

Han doesn't even get a real chance to be noble at the end of Empire. Yes, he goes to his fate with dignity, but he doesn't have any decisions to make. As he says, they don't even ask him any questions during the torture. He is just betrayed by Lando and stuck. He does get to talk Chewie down, and in the retcons, extends Chewie's Life Debt to include Leia, because that's all he can do for his friends in his final moments. Leia tells him she loves him. He tells her he knows. And Han exits the movie.

In Jedi, we see what we think is the end of his journey. They rescue him from Jabba, and he still seems to be mostly the same old Han. He doesn't believe that Luke is a Jedi Knight, even when Luke is saving him. He still makes cracks about the dying, and he fumbles along, and he relies on the fact that fortune loves a fool.

But when they get to the end, and they are looking for volunteers to lead the ground team, It's Han who steps up. This time, his friends join him, not the other way around. And we hear he's a general. Finally, Han is the one who has taken up the cause, and it's everyone else's turn to be loyal to him.

Even when he thinks Luke and Leia are an item, he doesn't act the way we expect. He just steps aside, but instead of exploding into drama and false conflict like every other movie character we've seen. He just sort of waits there uncomfortably, hoping they'll tell him he's wrong. It's endearing, really. He even consoles Leia when he thinks she's having problems with the man she chose over him. He juslly t does the perfect thing every time.

At the end of Jedi, we think we have a satisfying conclusion to Han.

So at the beginning of Force Awakens, it looks like a big backslide. Han has left the Republic and gone back to being a smuggler. He's left his family and his wife's cause. He's even lost his ship. So it looks like we're getting a lazy reset.

And then we see the map, and he hears Luke's name, and we realize that things are far more complicated. The man that didn't admit to believing in the Jedi, even while a Jedi was saving him from Jabba, now gives this speech:

"I used to wonder that myself. Thought it was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo -- magical power holding together good, evil, the dark side and the light. 'Crazy thing is, it's true. The Force, the  Jedi, all of it. It's all true."

This isn't a reset to the beginning of Episode IV. This isn't the character we left at the end of VI. This is the character 30 years later. He's had more pain. More loss. His son turned against his best friend. His best friend abandoned the galaxy. He feels like his wife blames him (even though she doesn't). This is a man who's mostly broken and just doing what he's good at, but he has dropped the pretense. This man is too old and too damaged to pretend that he doesn't believe anymore. He does believe, and believing is a little worse because his son has fallen over those beliefs

Let's look at that. Ben Solo was to be a Jedi. He followed in the steps of Han's best friend. How proud do you think that made Han? He couldn't follow in Han's steps because Han is a reformed criminal. Ben started from a place of purity and privilege, so following in Han's footsteps means he has to fall. So he chose the person that Han dedicated his life to saving and protecting. He devotes his youth to studying the teachings of the man who saved and was saved by his father. For a guy like Han, there is no better end.

But Ben does follow in Han's footsteps. Just like Han fell from grace so many years ago, going from a respectable officer to a scoundrel, now his son falls, going from a respectable Jedi to the leader of the Knights of Ren. (I know it was more complicated than that for Han. I suspect that it is more complicated than that for Ben.)

Is it a wonder he assumes his wife blames him? Ben has become his father's son, but Ben doesn't have anyone to rescue him like Luke and Leia rescued Han through friendship and love. Ben is out of his reach, in a viper's nest. There's no chance of him finding that redemptive friendship. He is lost.

Han says there's too much Vader in him, but I think he's lying. I think Han believes Ben fell because there was too much Han in him.

So this is the Han Solo in the Force Awakens. Adrift. Shattered. Believing in the system that seems to have destroyed his son. He takes up the quest to find Luke, because what else does he have? He's lost.

Is it a wonder he immediately takes to Rey? Here is a lost and broken child who needs a father. Here is a chance to try again. If Ben followed his father's path, he had to fall. Rey, while moral, is already at rock bottom, but she hasn't lost her moral compass. Here is a daughter that isn't going to fall. If she follows in Han's footsteps, she just becomes the person Han wishes he still was. The path of fall and (and hopefully redemption) has ruined his son, but Rey's fall wasn't his fault. Only good can come of the relationship. In Rey, Han can live out his redemption again.

But Rey turns him down.

This is the Han that meets his son on the catwalk in the end. This is the Han, who is asked by Ben to help him do what comes next. Han looks hopeful when Ben offers him the lightsaber, but I don't think he's hopeful when he tells Ben he'll do anything to help. I think at that moment, he expects the worst because Han always expects the worst. I think that when Han gives Ben permission to kill him, he does so knowing those could be his last words.

And when Ben does, and Han reaches us and gently touches his face, it isn't because he's spending his last moment with his son. It's because he has looked into his son's eyes and seen that the boy really has become him. But more, he knows that at this moment, he son has hit rock bottom, and Han has sat there, in that cantina, and murdered a person preemptively so that he can live just one more day. Han knows that hitting rock bottom is the first step of redemption, and so he looks at his son, sees himself, and forgives it all. He forgives Ben, and through that he forgives himself.

But that wasn't the end of his arc. That was the epilog. Han didn't have any choices there, either, not really. It's just like Bespin. He'd already become the man he needed to be and is just watching it all play out, completely out of his control. Sure he could have said no to Ben, but that wouldn't have changed anything. That scene showed us our final image of Han, but it's Han's final image because his arc has already really been closed. That scene was Ben's. It's Han's dismissal from the story, but by that point there's nothing left to say about Han, so it's his turn to exit the story. Just like at Bespin. Unlike Bespin, though, this exit is for good.

The end of his arc comes a scene or two before.

Han comes full circle when Finn tricks him into launching a rescue mission for Rey. Here we see Episode IV all over again. Luke used Han's life-threatening debt to force Han into rescuing Leia. Finn tricked Han into rescuing Rey by giving him a new ground mission to destroy a new Death Star. Han didn't come on the mission to save Rey willingly.

And so while we have the scene earlier where the eternal skeptic has declared the Force true, now we have a scene with Phasma and Finn in the shield control room. Their mission is finished. It's time to leave. Finn, obviously in a panic, says:

"Solo, if this works, we're not going to have a lot of time to find Rey."

And we see the scene coming. Han wouldn't rescue Leia all those years ago, even when presented the ultimate male fantasy, the rescue of the beautiful princess. We know that this where Finn's lying, and deceit comes back to haunt him. Remember, Finn has been trying to save the cat this entire movie, and now he's facing his final hurdle, the living legend who he lied and tricked to get what he wants. This is when the old scoundrel is supposed to make the boy pay for doing the wrong thing. And what does Han say?

"Don't worry kid, we won't leave here without her."

He doesn't blink. He doesn't hesitate. It doesn't even seem to have occurred to him that they wouldn't rescue Rey. He's given his final choice between the man he is versus the man he was, and we see the real Han Solo.

Because Han doesn't realize that he had a choice. Han Solo thinks he never has a choice. Han Solo doesn't every really understand Han Solo.

That is the moment Han Solo has finished his arc. That is the reason he had to die. In that single line Han Solo, as a character, is complete.

Most people cry when he dies, and I probably did too. But I really cry when he turns to the frightened boy, and he shows him what it means to be a man. I cry because Han Solo think he needs to be redeemed, but he doesn't. Han Solo is now the beacon that shows the others the path back to the light.

And he'll never know it.

Spoilerific Analysis of Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Part 4: Who Is This Kylo Ren Person Anyway.

Yadda yadda yadda, something mean about Wymore, probably involving puppies. Yadda yadda yadda.

I've been talking about star wars for four weeks now. You might have guessed from the Part 4 in the title. I have great faith in you on that account. So, what are we talking about for week four?

Let's get down to it. Kylo Ren. In my past analyses, I've been able to present much of my conclusions as fact, but there is a crucial difference: we know what motivates Finn and Rey. We have very little idea what motivates Kylo Ren.

They did a good job of obfuscating it. It wasn't until recently I realized we don't know his motivation. We know he wants to finish what Vader started, but for all we know Vader took up embroidery, and what he intends to finish is a cross stitch saying "Home is where you hang your mask" and a little picture of Vader suffocating to death without his breathing gear.

So I'm going to start with the basics of what we know about this guy, and then we'll get down to supposition. We're going to be looking ahead in the series on this one, so this is your final warning. If your acceptable spoilers are only ones for the existing movie, and no speculation is permitted, stop now! We're gonna get theoretical all up in this movie.

Let's start with what we see in the film. Just events and situations involving Kylo. The facts on film, as we know it. (Someone sent me the post production shooting script, so let's step through.)

Kylo Ren leads the assault on Jakku. There he kills Lor San Tekka and captures Poe Dameron. Finally he orders the killing of the villagers and leaves.

Kylo interrogates and mind rips Poe.

Kylo learns of Finn's help in the escape, and after a cut-away, orders them to retrieve the map. For the first time, we get the hint that Kylo's agenda doesn't match up exactly with the First Order. They are happy to destroy the map. Kylo only wants it retrieved.

Kylo learns Finn and BB-8 escaped. He has his temper tantrum on a bunch of innocent equipment, but when he learns a girl was involved, he seem to almost kill the messenger for the first time.

We see the first meeting with Snoke. Snoke orders them to change their plans and attack the  Republic, leaving the Resistance vulnerable to attack. We learn that Han Solo is Ren's father and this is the test he's never faced.

Kylo's scene, talking to Vader's mask, showing his weakness, asking for strength.

During Rey's vision, we see Kylo Ren killing a warrior that's about to attack, while standing over Rey. Then we see the knights of Ren in a group among the bodies of their victims.

Kylo watches the Starkiller firing.

Kylo assault's Moz's castle. He captures Rey in a really creepy scene and orders the troops to pull out. At this point he's notably gone against First Order wishes. He has access to the map via Rey, who's seen it. But BB-8 is still out there, for the Resistance to use.

Kylo interrogates Rey in an even creepier scene. 

In a scene right after, Snoke discovers Ren's betrayal. He orders the destruction of the Resistance base, while Ren insists they get the map from Rey. Snoke orders Ren to bring the girl to him.

Ren throws another tantrum when he finds Rey missing.

Kylo confronts Han. Kills him.

Final battle.

All right. So let's try to think about how to interpret all of that.

Good Kylo Ren:

I really tried to make this interpretation work. There's evidence that Kylo's mission is to destroy the First Order. He even asks Han for permission before killing him. I tried hard to come up with an theory where he's actually still good. The problem is that first scene. In it, he almost certainly kills Lor San Tekka, and definitely orders the slaughter of the village. And the interrogations scene have way too much of a sexual assault vibe. So no. I can't make this work.

So let's take it the other way.

Evil Kylo Ren:

Evil Kylo Ren begins quite naturally. He kills an old man. He orders the slaughter of innocents. Bad, bad stuff. Then he mind-rips Poe. Again, obviously evil stuff. Things become less clear right after. In his conversation with Hux, we discover that Hux's motivation is to keep the map out of the hands of the Resistance, while Kylo wants it for himself.

In this version, something must have happened to bring Rey to his attention, because he has no reason to think anything strange when he hears news of a girl on the planet, and he freaks out. The only answer I have here is that he's been having visions of Rey, just as she's been having visions of Luke (or at least his island.)

This discord grows when we learn that he's called by the lightside (a new concept in the cinematic Star Wars). And when he abandons the map to bring in Rey, things become really confused.

The rest of the movie, his killing of his father, his driven need to hunt down Finn and Rey, even horribly wounded, his terrible outbursts of temper. That all fits the evil Kylo.

So what is his motivation? Why does Kylo Ren want the map, even if it means that the Resistance has it as well.

I think the only explanation here that he feels he needs to personally kill his uncle. The obvious answer is that he wants to prove himself to Snoke and the ghost of Vader, that only be beating the galaxy's only general can he properly claim his position in the dark side. This Kylo Ren doesn't believe ridiculous stories about his grandfather's final acts. He thinks of Vader in his cyborg.

The call of the light side supports this theory. In this version he feels his connection to his Uncle, just as he detects his father later in the film. Only by murdering both the father figures in his life can he burn the light out of his soul. Our family has power over us, after all. 

The other possible cause of this is a need for revenge. Perhaps there was a falling out between Luke and himself. In this version there's no consideration of Snoke or the First Order, Kylo wants to murder Luke out of personal vengeance. Luke survived his destruction of the Jedi school. They have unfinished business.

The Machiavellian Kylo Ren:

In this version, Kylo Ren sees himself as the hero of the Galaxy, and he doesn't realize how far he's fallen. This combines the good version of Kylo Ren with a fall to darkness and a lack of self awareness. Let's start with his speech to Vader:

"Forgive me. I feel it again. The pull to the light. Supreme Leader senses it. Show me again, the power of the darkness,  and I will let nothing stand in our way. Show me, Grandfather, and I will finish what you started."

He feels the light. He doesn't want the Supreme Leader to know. He's asking to see the power of darkness, presumably to hide the light. Finally he wants to finish what Vader started.

What, exactly didn't Vader start? Wipe out the Jedi? He's already pretty much did that, but even if that's why he wants to find Luke, that wasn't really Vader's mission. Restore balance to the force? Maybe, but right now the balance is tilted to the dark side, so that isn't exactly an evil job. Vader's most notable action, on his own, was killing the Emperor and starting the downfall of the Empire. The thing that Kylo must have been told over and over, throughout his childhood, was that his Grandfather died redeemed.

And let's take a look at Rey's vision again. She sees herself in Bespin, in Luke's place, then everything shift and she falls to the ground during what is presumably the destruction of the Jedi School. She sees Luke and then she watches Kylo Ren kill a man.

It's actually Paul Genesse who pointed this out. The person who Kylo Ren kills is trying to kill Rey in the vision. The man is wearing a helmet that could be either soldier or villain and he's swinging a metal club. Why is he swinging a club?

Paul's theory is that this isn't a vision, it's part memory, and that Rey was there. The man is trying to kill five-year-old Rey, either by beating her to death with a metal rod or a deactivated lightsaber (and the movie makers didn't want us to see the color of the blade.)

Did Kylo Ren save Rey's life? It flashes immediately to someone dropping her off on Jakku.

And in this theory, his actions involving the map make much more sense. He desperately wants to find Luke, and doesn't care whether the resistance finds him too. The Resistance might pull Luke back into the fold, but Kylo would still get to see him first. Possibly to explain everything he's done in Anakin Skywalker's name.

This is the interpretation I favor the most, I think.

Kylo Ren found himself wrapped up in the destruction of the Jedi. Either he saw the Jedi as ideologically flawed or he just didn't understand what he was getting into, but somewhere in the middle of the destruction, Kylo Ren forms his plan. He kills the Knight of Ren who's trying to slaughter Rey and he rescues her, maybe because they are cousins. He then drops her off on Jakku where she'll be safe. She probably was a youngling in training. He might not be worried about her plight.

Assuming Kylo is about the same age as Driver, he's probably 29 (Diver is 32, but the movie takes place about 30 years after Jedi. That would put him about 16 when Rey was 5. Young, but not too young to be powerful and really, really stupid.

This Kylo obsesses about his Grandfather and is either now or soon to be connected to the First Order. He sees the First Order as the recovered Empire, and he must finish what his grandfather started, and take it down from the inside.

Is it surprising that he murders when necessary? Vader is his idle, and all his killing was forgiven in the end, but note that Kylo only kills two people in the movie, Lor San Tekka in the beginning and his father at the end. Even Finn, who should have been murdered by that lightsaber, actually survives. This Kylo is trying to minimize death. He can't avoid killing Lor San Tekka (or doesn't kill him and the old man survives somehow--Max Von Sidow made statements about us being surprised by his character, and yet there was nothing surprising in this movie). Kylo orders the destruction of the village, but there was likely no way to stop that, so why not give the order?

Note this Kylo uses his mind-rip, but he doesn't torture. He might think this is the more humane interrogation. He's willing to ruin the First Order's plans as long has he gets to Luke Skywalker first. He is visibly upset when Hux convinces Snoke to use Starkiller to destroy the Resistance (after destroying the Republic Senate in the Hosnian System.) He just wants to get into Rey's head. The script even says:

"Kylo Ren is stunned by the moment -- that isn't what he meant at all --"

Why would he not care about the destruction of the senate, but he reacts to the destruction of the Resistance? Because the Republic means nothing to him, but he and the Resistance have the same goal.

Then that moment on the bridge. Our Kylo has fallen a long way, but he hasn't gone this far. Still, if he could kill his father, that would prove Snoke can trust him, once and for all. So he talks to Han on the bridge. He even asks his permission to kill him. Look at Han's face when he does it. Han is happy. This could be because he's been freed of all burdens and just spending his last moments with his son, or it could be that he's seen the good in his son, somehow in the last moment, and he's found peace.

Han's reaction doesn't quite feel right to me yet. I don't quite have it. There's something there I'm missing, I'm sure of it.

But the rest works. Kylo doesn't kill Finn because he doesn't want to kill Finn. He's beaten by Rey not just because he got gutshot by a gun that kills stormtroopers five feet from its point of impact, but because he doesn't want to hurt Rey at all. He burns Finn with that lightsaber, but when he has Rey in the same clinch, he doesn't really seem to try. Heck, he leads her right to the force and then lets her close her eyes and meditate so she can marshal her focus. Not the act of a guy who's trying to kill someone. It's the act of a guy who's trying to lead someone to a realization.

All in all, this is the version of Kylo that seems the most likely to me. The man with a mission who's allowed his obsession to warp his view of right and wrong. A man who's willing to let attrocities happen for the greater good. A man who cares about a little girl he saved long ago, but is just too twisted to relate to her in a healthy way. A man who kills his own father in an attempt to do something he thinks his mother and grandfather would want him to do. It's broken, and it only barely makes sense, and it's filled with emotion and contradiction and self delusion, and that's what makes it feel real to me.

Or maybe I'm just overthinking things for the sake of a blog post.

Whatever the truth, I can't wait to find out.

Spoilerific Analysis of Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Part 3: Rey's Character Arc and Refusing All the Calls

Wymore is still getting a pass on the jokes during my Star Wars Palooza. The rumors that this has to do with a cortex bomb in my head are greatly exaggerated. Not lies. Just exaggerated.

This week we're going to discuss Rey's arc. Mainly because I don't know what I'm going to say about Kylo Ren and I want to do Han last. At any rate, get comfy.

Rey's arc is interesting, because in a traditional narrative form, it takes a massive backslide shortly after Rey is introduced. We start with Rey, adrift, a scavenger on Jakku. We see her doing a few cute, endearing things. She sleds down a sand dune. She has a rebel pilot doll. She sits outside wearing a rebel flight helmet comically too large for her. These elements show us Rey as sort of an adult child. If it wasn't for the rest of her arc, these would certainly degrade her a bit in our view, but considering how damn mature her whole situation is, they just serve to remind us that she is barely old enough to be considered an adult. She probably had to grow up very quickly on Jakku, but the child Rey is still there, calling out for her to return, to play again.

Contrast this with Rey's actual situation. She a junk scavenger on a harsh, brutal world. She's obviously being taken advantage of by the only authority figure in her life. Her skill with a staff insinuates that's she's only survive this long by an expert application of brutal violence.

These things endear us to her. The injustice of her situation instantly connects our sympathy to her situation, while the childlike aspects amplify the effect. It's hard not to sympathize with a person abused, still clinging to a childhood denied her.

We don't understand this yet. We won't until the midpoint of the movie, and even then, mostly subconsciously.

But after getting cheated for her hard work and watching her sitting adorably in the helmet, like a five year old in Daddy's clothes, she hears a ruckus. She already has our sympathy, but now there's a cat to save, and it's time to earn our respect.

The cat that needs saving is none other than the more adorable BB-8. One of the rules of cat saving is that the cat must almost always be more adorable the saver. This act of heroism isn't much from Rey, it's almost trivial, but it means the world to BB-8. Now that we've engaged sympathy, made us fall in love a little, and garnered out respect with the mandatory cat rescue, Rey has her "Refusal of the Call" moment.

We're going to get into this, probably after the character analysiseseseses (how do you make analysis plural?), but here's the short version. There's this thing called the Monomyth, or the Hero's Journey. It was somewhat famously applied to Star Wars once. An important first step is the Refusal of the Call. The Refusal is meant to show the character as humble, I think. If they jump at the opportunity to be a hero, they're too eager, maybe a little smarmy. They have to resist their own greatness, deny it until reluctantly coaxed. So BB-8 goes to her for help. She refuses. BB-8 turns the cuteness dial up, and being a good little droid in a post-Spinal-Tap world, that nob goes all the way to 11. Rey relents, but "Just for the night."

You might read the rest of my post and come back to this one. "Bob," you might say, pulling out a cigarette holder and straightening your monocle (because I imagine all my critics arguing from 19th-century drawing rooms). "Bob, she doesn't accept this call, old man. She qualifies it by saying it's just for the night. Pip pip."

To which I say, come now. Not one of you thought for a moment she was kicking that adorable droid out the next morning.

Her cat saving carries over one more scene, when she refuses to sell poor BB-8 to Simon Peg. The first part of the save was too easy, and this is where she makes her actual sacrifice. That's neither here nor there, though. Unlike Finn, this is just one cat saving event spread over a couple scenes.

The really interesting bit comes after she meets Finn and Solo and they have their daring adventures. While she continues to endear herself to us "I bypassed the compressor!" We're really just pushing forward to the next crucial scene, where Han Solo offers her a not-job, and she refuses.

What? Really? You don't refuse two calls. Not unless the second one is actually a temptation. So why are we going back to rehash old ground? Especially since we've moved forward multiple stages in the Hero's Journey since then? Why backtrack now?

But maybe this is a temptation. While we think too well of Han at this point to think that he won't end up doing good out there, he is technically still a smuggler. Maybe this isn't a real call.

That theory is blown away during the next sequence, however, because in Moz's place, she gets the call again, and most literally this time. The lightsaber. It calls to her in every sense, both in Sir Alec Guiness's voice and in Ewan MacGreggor's. If you want to make absolutely sure the Call is heard, you make it in the voice of the same man who presented the Call to Luke.

Also, this is the second time John Williams plays the Skywalker theme over Rey's image (the first time indisputably so). He does it three or four more times. So if you're in the camp that thinks Rey is Luke's daughter, it's hard to deny that this is exactly what John Williams wants you to think. And he isn't Wymore. We might be able to trust him.

Also, this is when everything done with her character's child/adult dichotomy comes together in our mind. We see her, witnessing (or remembering according to some theories) the slaughter of the jedi. Here we see 5-7 year old Rey abandoned on Jakku. And that's when we realize the truth. She still cherishes the trappings of childhood because that's when her childhood was stolen from her, all those years ago. She had to grow up instantly on Jakku and so she locked away the child, in the secret place in her heart. We only see it when she's alone, and no one else could see. And that call that we hear in these trappings, its the scream of that little girl, watching the ship leave.

Actually, you might be able to nail down a smaller refusal a bit earlier, but I hadn't established the pattern yet so I couldn't mention it then. When they meet Han, Finn says, "The war hero?" and Rey says, "No, the smuggler." Not a full refusal, but certainly a refutation of the basic first principles of the call itself. She won't even acknowledge that Han accepted his call, way back when.

But back to Moz. Here Rey refuses the Call with full-on, running-from-the-room drama. BB-8, chases her, representing Faith (See two weeks ago). Look. Refuse the call twice in a row, and the Sidekick will get disapproving. It's his adorable little job.

That's two refusals, and we'd lose respect for Rey if she kept it up (that's what Finn is for). Rey is our paragon, so right after this she is captured, so she isn't allowed to refuse anymore Calls. From here on out, its just temptations and trials.

A lot of amazing stuff happens to Rey from this point on in the story, but most of it doesn't really affect her character arc. Character skill, set, yes. General development, sure. But the movie has set it's rules for us. Despite her INEXPLICABLE defiance of structure by accepting the Call and then refusing the next one, it is the Call we care about. We know she's destined to take up that saber. We're screaming it. John Williams is Screaming it. Moz all but screamed it. We can see it in BB-8's judging, forgiving eyes.

Her mind-tricking the guard is more about getting her agency back into her hands (and setting up her force use for the final confrontation), and here we step away from Rey. The next scenes we check in with Rey, but they are mostly about Finn and Poe (who's taken over as protagonist for a bit). And of course Han and Kylo.

We come back to Rey as the main character after the tragic scene on the bridge, when she and Finn confront Kylo. Here, we see Kylo, even wounded, smash her like that little pilot doll. Then toy with Finn for a bit before severing his spine. And then he tries to take the lightsaber of Luke Skywalker.

And this call can't be denied.

And as the Hero's Journey plays out to the end, while we watch Rey finally finishing her second attempt at one of the early steps, we might be confused by the fact she did it twice, but we are satisfied. This is what we've been waiting for. John William agrees of course. We know because the Skywalker theme starts up again. Not for the last time.

No need to rehash the ending. It's moving and awesome and inspiring. And when the smoke clears and the cats are all done being rescued, Rey leaves behind Finn's broken body and takes her steps to fulfill the promise made in the first line of the opening crawl.

And on the way we see the fallout of her choices. She's become Han Solo as well as Luke Skywalker. She is both the person she respected and the person we knew she was meant to be. She follows the map. She climbs a stair or two.

And as the Skywalker theme plays over the two of them at the end, we realize why there were two calls. And why we saw the hero's journey played out in its entirety while she was still call refusing for all she was worth.

We thought were were just watching the story of the Force Awakens. We were wrong.

We were watching two stories, one moving at a pace to finish at the end of Episode VII. The other, however, presumably ends at the end of Episode IX. She accepted that first call way back when so that she could get here, to finish her first steps on a much bigger journey. She holds out that lightsaber to Luke Skywalker, we realize just how long a journey still lies ahead.

And from the look in her and Luke's eyes, we can see they realize it as well.

Spoilerific Analysis of Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Part 2: Finn's Character Arc and Cat Saving for Fun and Profit

I'm cold. Oh so cold. Colder than Starkiller Base. Colder than Whitmore's dark heart. So cold that I just typed Whitmore when I meant Wymore.  

I might be malnourished. Winter doesn't justify this level of cold. Still, that's not really relevant to today's post. Today is about Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Again. Because why wouldn't it be?

There are four primary character arcs in The Force Awakens (although one is more the completion of an arc than something self-contained in this movie). My favorite character, Poe Dameron, doesn't really have one. I assume that's because when you begin as the pinnacle of all that is awesome, there is nowhere to go from there.

So let's start with Finn.

Finn is the personification of fear. One of my favorite human beings, Sam Witwer, likened him to the cowardly lion. His might be the most straightforward arc. He begins with an act of selfishness with an overtone of morality. He hates the horrors of war. At first, it seems like he might just be worried about his own skin, as the bloodied handprint stains his helmet, we think that he is too afraid to fight. But we learn quickly that his isn't the whole story.

Let's talk about  "Saving the Cat," This is a screenwriting term made popular by the book by Blake Snyder. Follow that link if you want to read what many consider to be the definitive book on screenwriting, but for the moment we just need one concept, the cat. Saving the cat is the shorthand a screenwriter uses for showing a character is a good person, also called "Pet the Dog/Kick the Dog". Saving the cat is that perfect moment, early in the story, when the character shows his true colors and we start to root for them. It's when the grizzled cop lets a criminal go so that the man's boy doesn't see him arrested. It's when we find out the ruthless coach is secretly buying groceries for his poorest player. It's when we find out the gangbanger is doing everything to pay the medical bills of his sick grandmother.

Finn's whole story is about him escalating through these save the cat moments, and that's important because a frightened character can be harder to respect. So we hit the cat saving hard in this story.

After we see Finn digesting the horrors of war he immediately gets his first cat to save. He's ordered to execute prisoners, and he balks. There is no downside in him pulling the trigger, and if historical totalitarian governments have taught us anything, it's that refusing to conform is not a path to a long and healthy life. Still he doesn't pull the trigger.

But in this instance, his Saving of the Cat doesn't quite carry us through, and part of that is because of Boyega's spectacular mask acting. (Another part is that the cat in this instance quite definitely dies). Despite not seeing his face, we can tell Finn's terrified of everything going on in that scene and we're left with the question: is he really a good man, or is he just a frightened one? Part of the genius of this story is that we don't know. Like Han Solo in Episode IV, Finn has shades of gray. We think he's acting with a moral compass, but we can't be sure.

We have another cat, of course. Poe Dameron is an awesome cat. He looks into the face of evil and asks who talks first. He mocks Kylo Ren like he's Bane in The Dark Knight Rises. We are instantly on board. He is a cat that needs saving.

And Finn comes through. We know, in our hearts, he is a good man. Here is our hero. He comes to rescue Poe and admits he isn't in the Resistance. When asked why he's doing this, he says it's the right thing to do. Which is of course immediately undermined by learning he needs a pilot. Yes, he saves the cat, but the cat also saves him. So he might be doing the right thing.

But we don't know.

Do you see the genius here? The question posed? By the time the two are in the TIE Fighter, we still don't have our answer. Finn's entire character arc becomes around answering that question.

And then they crash.

Now, entering into the second act of this movie, Finn has had two cats to save, and he's failed both times. He didn't save the villagers, he only failed to kill them. He didn't save Poe because Poe did most of the thrilling heroics himself. Also, Poe seems to have died. And Finn steals his jacket. Two cats, and Finn hasn't saved a damn one.

Finn takes his long trek across Jakku, and after finally getting water, Finn gets his third opportunity to save a cat, this time in the form of a fair maiden. An actual damsel in distress. Finn starts to help.

But nope. The Damsel saves her own damn self. And then kicks Finn's ass lightly around the edges. Finn is 3 for 3 on trying to save cats, but 0 for 3 on actually succeeding. When they finally escape, this new cat, Rey, arguably saves him, again.

By now, our expectations as a viewer have changed. We no longer are looking at the save the cat moment as a character indicator. It's become the actual quest. We want Finn to save a cat. We need Finn to save a cat. We're starting to realize that the biggest character hurdle in front of Finn is that he hasn't saved a cat.

And is it too much? Because when we arrive at the cantina, he's offered the biggest damn cat in the galaxy... the galaxy itself. Go to the resistance, and fight the cat-stomping First Order. Really just save the hell out of that cat.

And Finn says no. The First Order is too much. He can't take it. It's too much. That's a big, gnarly cat. Finn would be more comfortable starting with a kitten. Maybe a stuffed cat.

I've said we need him to save the cat, and there's a good reason why. We want to be Rey, but at this point, we fear we aren't. In Rey, we see the person we want to become. In Finn we see the person we secretly are, all full of fears and insecurities. If Finn manages to save this cat, maybe we can save the cats in our own life. Maybe, at that point, we get to become Rey, and not just wish we were.

Shortly after he refuses to save the gnarly cat, everything falls apart. You see, Rey is on her own cycle of "Refusing the Call" over and over again. During that process, she's captured by Kylo Ren on his own cycle of "Reconciliation with Father." Those two will be discussed in future installments.

Here is our moment of truth. Finn, and therefore we, stare down at a cat we can't stand not to save. So he, and therefore we, will lie and cheat and do whatever we can for that cat.

And we succeed. We save her and she hugs us and we wonder if this is the first time in our military life we've ever been hugged. The cat is saved, and we are Finn, and Finn is good.

We aren't done yet, though, because Kylo is out there. We've saved the galaxy but we haven't gotten Rey to safety. Kylo takes Rey out and we must put our money where our mouth is. We risk life and spine to save Rey, and in the end, we fall.

We pull back and distance ourselves for Finn for Rey's climax, but that isn't the last we see of Finn. When we last see him, he's presumably just out of surgery, lying it an ill-advised fashion on what is probably a shiny new cyberspine. Rey says goodbye to Finn and that is that.

But we don't worry about Finn. Finn has achieved his goal. We stare at the unconscious character on the screen and we know the quality of the man. What's more, we know that he has found this certain knowledge himself.

And finally, at the end of the film, we are content.

Spoilerific Analysis of Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Part 1: Character Archtypes

Spoilers ahoy. Turn back ye mighty or despair.

Since this post is about Star Wars and since James Wymore is a full Sith Lord, I will respect his religion and not mock him during this post. But he has an orange lightsaber, and we all know those are the ugliest.

So let's talk about the new Star Wars, the original Star Wars, and how the new writers grew the characters over the last thirty-some years. We'll start with an analysis of the characters from the original Star Wars.  If you remember from Part 0 of my plotting series, Dramatica's Grand Argument Theory of plotting has eight Character Archetypes. Let's have a reminder, with the characters of the original 1977 Star Wars assigned their proper places.

Protagonist -- Our hero -- Luke Skywalker, of course.

Antagonist -- The Villain -- The Empire, embodied in that film by Grand Moff Tarkin, later by the Emporer.

The Guardian -- Protects and guides the protagonist -- Obi-Wan Kenobi

The Contagonist -- Opposes the Guardian and tries to steer the protagonist down the wrong path -- Darth Vader (although that isn't obvious until The Empire Strikes Back).

Emotion -- Represents Feeling -- Chewbacca

Reason -- Opposes Emotion, represents Logic -- Leia

Skeptic -- Represents Doubt -- Han Solo

Sidekick -- Opposes Skeptic, represents Faith -- R2D2 and C3P0

So let's look at how the new characters fit into the franchise, and how the old ones might have shifted.

Protagonist: Obviously, we're starting with Rey here. She is our hero, in almost every way. She steps so neatly into Luke's position that even if she isn't Luke's daughter like most people think, John Williams still saw fit to play the damn Skywalker scene over her about six times in the film. Seriously. Twice he uses almost the same orchestration as he used when Luke accepted the Skywalker destiny.

But I'm going to go out on a limb here and give her a minor co-protagonist: Poe Dameron. Poe takes over the fighter pilot role from Luke and he steps in as protagonist pretty much every time Rey is neutralized by the movie's plot. He starts off as the prime driver, then disappears when she comes on, then reappears when she's captured, then flickers in and out of the story during her escape and final acceptance of her destiny. Also, Rey takes up Poe's quest and gets it finished. Twice.

Fair notice, though. I might be biased. Rey is my hero in every way, but Poe is actually my favorite character. That might because Poe is the Platonic idea of the Italian American. Seriously. He mouths off to the bad guy, then when he gets broken out, he realizes that Finn just needs him for his skill, but he rolls with it without holding a grudge. Then he gives Finn his nickname that will stick forever. He encourages even as he jokes, and as a kicker, when he sees Finn wearing his jacket, he won't take it back because it suits him. Seriously, the only thing he didn't do was follow that up with, "And you look starving, we need to get some cannoli in you."

Antagonist: Another easy one. The First Order, most directly represented by General Hux. How often do you see a scene I think, "Somewhere in here, a director okayed this actor giving us the Full Hitler."

Guardian: Here's where things get interesting. For the guardian, we get the 70-year-old Han Solo. He takes Rey under his wing, becomes a grumpy father figure, and even dies right at the point where the guardian needs to step aside so the protagonist can grow into their own. Ford didn't just age the Han Solo character. He and the writer's GREW that character into something bigger and special. I expect to talk more about his series-wide character arc in the next post. I expect that in the next movie, the guardian will be either Luke, Chewbacca, or both.

Contagonist: Kylo Ren. Seriously. He tries to seduce Rey to the dark side of the force and he kills the Guardian. It's like he's ticking off the Darth Vader checklist.

Emotion: No longer Chewie, Finn takes up this role. Finn stops just a step or two from full Cowardly Lion and he does it brilliantly. He is a bundle of emotions and social awkwardness bundled in a desperate package, just praying for something better, but probably convinced he doesn't deserve it. Finn is probably the greatest creation of the new movie. Poe's still my favorite. All right. Chewie does it once or twice too, but he's mellowed with age.

Reason: Still Leia, and I love it. She's a calm (if a spirited version of calm) center of the Star Wars movies. Practical. Far thinking. Always looking at the big picture. She was the female CEO before female CEOs were a thing. Calling her a princess is like calling Rommel a German advisor.

Skeptic: This one hard, because force awakens doesn't have a good example of a skeptic character. The junk dealer on Jakku might be it for part. Captain Phasma as well. Rey and Finn both take up the Skeptic role in their own ways. Skeptic gets passed around in the Force Awakens, which isn't terribly surprising, because it's a movie about Finn and Rey finding their faith.

Sidekick: Obviously, the indomitable and awesome BB-8 is the primary Faith character in Force Awakens, with C-3PO and R2 pulling up the slack. That's never more perfectly depicted than in the scene where R2 and BB-8 join together to project a map leading to the holiest place in the Galaxy. Seriously. Faith, faith, faith.

That takes us to the end of the character archetypes. New characters stepped into the roles of old. Han Solo grew into something new and special, and R2 and 3PO remained constant.

Next week, we'll take the analysis further and look at some individual arcs.

Merry Christmas

Taking Christmas week off blogging. This time, I'm eating cake.

That Moment Where Everything Clicks

In honor of Star Wars Release Weekend, I will not take any shots at Wymore. So today I'm going to talk about ah-ha moments. That moment where everything clicks and you suddenly understand the solution to a problem. In writing, this is almost always a plot specific point. It might be realizing that a flaw of your main character fits perfectly into the environment of the ending. It might be the moment where you realize the contagonist of your three movie trilogy is actually the father of your protagonist. It might be that moment where you realize that you've misjudged your taxes and your going to have a lot more money to spend next year. (That's plot related, right?)

Ah-ha moments seem like they are out of our control. They are not. An ah-ha moment is like meeting the person of your dreams: there's luck involved, but luck is largely what we make of it.

Ah-ha moments do not come from the ether and only barely come from native intelligence. Ah-ha moments come from opportunity. They come from giving your mind time to grind on a problem, and then taking time to actually think about it. Do you think about your projects all the time? Do you start thinking about them weeks, if not months in advance? You should.

I was thinking about the third Death by Cliché book while I was plotting the second. The fourth and the fifth are in there as well, vaguely formed ideas about where I'm building, what I want to accomplish, and what I want these books to mean to the reader.

I've known the last line of the third book since I decided whether or not to put a certain subplot into the second (I decided not to, and so the second book partially became about laying the seeds of the subplot in the third.) I've been grinding on that third book ever since. I've had time. Every moment I'm in the car. Every moment I'm in the shower. Almost every moment my mind is wandering, some part of it is trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing with that book.

You see, the second book came at me as sort of a surprise, in that I was too stupid to be thinking about it when I should have. I knew for quite some time that the second book would need to be written (that's not the same thing as knowing it would be published). It was somewhere around the time when I got my release date that I looked at the calendar and realized I should have started book 2, mentally, about three months before.

I was halfway through a project with my writers' group and I asked them if they would mind if I put that project on hold. It would take at least six months more at our current critique rate, and I just didn't have time. I wanted to turn in the second DbC book in May of next year, and if I'm to get that into anything like fighting shape, I need to be finishing it in the next month or so.

My plan was to go back into that original project then, but I saw that trap in time. Another six months and I'd be back in the same situation. So my writing group is getting two DbC books in a row, right in the middle of that other book. That will give me a little breathing room before I need to start the fourth.

But the third one is going better. Because of these time constraints, every aspect of the second book, from a plotting standpoint, has been an uphill battle. I'm having to drive the through the mental cycles by brute force. They are coming, and Howard Tayler told me two weeks ago that it's a better book than the first, but it's been painful.

The third, on the other hand, suddenly clicked together this week. The point is that after four or more months of chewing and thinking and grinding on this book in the back of my head, of thinking about it in all the quiet times, at examining it from multiple angles, I finally hit on the two ideas that clicked together and formed the central plot. (That subplot I mentioned before would only get me so far).

Each DbC book has a purpose. I have something I want to say. The first was about the power of the creative impulse. The second takes that to its natural conclusion and explores the more implications. The third is about the political power of a people to decide their own fate. I hit upon it by combining a scene from Henry V with the plot of Les Mis.

Once those pieces click together, you have your skeleton. When you have your skeleton, you have your book. You just don't know it yet.

But this doesn't happen magically. It just seems like that. It happens when you give yourself the time and the opportunity for it to happen. For me its about four to six months. For you it might be one month or one year. I want to say don't force it, but sometimes you have to force it, especially when deadlines become a thing. Instead I'll say to try to think ahead, so you don't have to force it. You'll sleep better. You book might be better because of it, and your family and friends will find you more pleasant to be around.

Unlike Wymore. (Dammit! Almost made it).

Writing Groups of Writingness

I'm talking about real writing groups. Not what Wymore does in his attic with two porcelain dolls, three stuffed animals, and a heavily sedated puma.

Writing groups can be problematic. They can break a new writer. They can instill one with a false sense of confidence. There are periods where I quit writing after almost every group. Luckily I have a 45-minute drive home, and I've usually come to my senses before I hit my driveway.

Tim Powers says to not join a writing group. He says that if you do, make sure everyone in it is farther along in their careers than you are. Other people's advice is more generous.

Tim's theoretical group is great, but not all of us can be that lucky. So what do we do with the group we have? How does one use a writing group most efficiently?

One thing is true about any writing group. They will give you the type of feedback you ask for. If they don't, quit that group immediately.

The level of feedback you do ask depends, like always, on you. For most people, I would go with Orson Scott Card's wise reader feedback, which essential consists of reactions, feelings, and understanding without prescription. A wise reader says, "I'm bored," or "I don't understand," or "I don't believe it." The wise reader reports their state of mind and leaves it to the author to figure out how to fix it.

The problem with readers giving suggestions is that very rarely are the suggestions right. Readers, even brilliant ones, rarely know why they feel what the feel. And when they guess, they are almost always wrong. They certainly don't know enough about why you wrote what you wrote give coherent advice. For instance, many readers tell you to cut when something is boring, but most likely, you need to add instead. The problem isn't that you're going on too long. The problem is that you don't have enough content for the reader to care about what you do have.

Unless you are a professional writer, I would not deviate from that type of feedback.

When you're much more confident in your ability to understand feedback, say when you're a professional writer (and maybe not for some time after), you might be able to handle people's suggestions. To do this you need the skill to ignore their advice, but to use it to better figure out the core of the problem. For instance, if the reader tells you that a character isn't likeable and that you need to pull back on their more negative traits, you might realize that the real problem is that you haven't gotten deeply enough into the characters head for the reader to empathize and forgive their bad behavior. The solution might not be to pull back on the character's flaws, but to strengthen their inner life.

Here is a good illustration of how a group should work for almost everyone: this week one of the members of my group said that the last scene of a chapter felt too "white room" for her. She went on to add that she couldn't figure out why, because all the actions and descriptive tags were there.

She had to leave right after that (we were running long) and I turned to the other two members. One of them said the scene didn't feel white room to them. I pointed out that it probably didn't feel white room to him and me because she had the problem wrong. She was looking at the action, but the problem was really the emotional reactions of the characters. Him and I were looking for slightly less emotional content and so we both thought it was fine. The last member of the group said she didn't have the problem either, but that she thought I was right and that the problem was that the rest of the group had more time invested with the character and so they brought their own emotional content to the scene. We all agreed that the first critiquer was right, however. Just because people who knew the character better didn't have the problem didn't mean I had the luxury of being lazy.

I have a great group. I wouldn't quit them for the world. You might have to go through a half dozen groups until you find one as perfect for you as mine it for me.

I know I did.

Your First Audiobook Part 4

In the last year, I've lost about seventy-five pounds. I did it all for Cera. Or at least that's what I promised my hair stylist I would say yesterday, when she was holding a sharp implement.

Wymore doesn't control a monopoly on threatening conversations. I suspect they studied at the same cosmetology school.

As a side note, Cera also told me that she's almost finished with her MBA. She has another college degree and she went to cosmetology school. She said that cosmetology was the most intellectually challenging of the three. She needed to learn anatomy, geometry, and algebra just to start. She said it made the others look easy by comparison.

None of that involves audiobooks, but I thought it was interesting.

My goal of finishing recording the audiobook by the end of the year is straining some. We were about two sessions behind this morning before I was supposed to record and last night I got very sick. Nothing that was life threatening, of course, but I sneezed for about five minutes without a break and at the end my voice had turned into gravelly hamburger. So I had to cancel recording today. There's something to be said for manning up and working when you're sick, but when you're talking about voice recording a continuous performance, the voice has to actually match.

So I'll need to try to get a makeup session or two in there. We're already planning one Christmas weekend. We probably need one to two more.

Last Sunday we had our first makeup session. We recorded about three and a half hours before my voice failed, with a few breaks in there to recover. We would have probably made up about a half session more than we did, but the audio tech lost the original recording of Chapter One, and he'd done something to the version he was working with that made it sound terrible. He was very apologetic, but I didn't mind much. I've gotten a lot more comfortable recording since then, so I liked getting a second shot at it. It's the longest chapter in the book, however, so we lost makeup time.

Seriously, though, I was relieved to be asked to do "reshoots." If we went through this whole process without catching at least one screw up, I'd be suspicious we missed something. Maybe that's just me being paranoid.

Anyway, as of the end of the weekend, we'd recorded through chapter 41 of 68 chapters. The punch and roll recording is going well. I have chapters now where I only make a five to nine mistakes in an entire chapter. Sunday I hit a record of recording four minutes and twenty seconds without having to stop. 4:20. Insert joke here.

Anyway, today I'm convalescing. Tomorrow I'll see if I can schedule a makeup session. Now, I'm going to play Fallout 4.

Have a good week, and never take a bet from a man who's shares a first name with a city.

Thanksgiving Post

To hell with posting. I'm eating pie.

Character Sympathy

I was in a car accident this week. I don't know how Wymore was involved, but I'm sure that he was. Somehow. I'm watching you, Wymore. 

So the guy doesn't have insurance. And I'm a bit injured. And I'm not thinking clearly. In addition, a kind soul gave me Fallout 4 about five hours ago and I really want to try it. Not Wymore. If it was Wymore, we'd all know it was a trap. (Watching you, Wymore).

What I'm saying is, I'm not all here and I am fumbling my way through this post.

I was going to write about that accident and the effect on my writing (let's call it "bad"), but I noticed something today and I think it has application for writing in general, so let's work it out together.

Once a month, I do a playtest for my game company. Right now we are running through the Moving Shadow Campaign for The Echoes of Heaven Campaign Setting in an attempt to be ready in case a license for 5th edition ever presents itself.

In this adventure, they are slowly unraveling the mystery of five-month-old events through a series of magical flashbacks. Central to the story is one of two young lovers and how one of them came to lie on her death bed.

The flashbacks can happen in different orders, depending on how the party does things. In this run-through, they came, very early, on the young man's long night of the soul. He had found to location of cattle thieves who were plaguing the village, he was outnumbered and outgunned. His lover was about to be killed, and he knew that if he tried to save her they'd both die. So he collapsed in terror. Hysterical terror. In the flashback, a group of villagers found him, realized that he wasn't getting a grip on himself, and moved on to try to take down the thieves.

The party, after experiencing this flash back, hates him. One of the players was doing a bit of a rant on how worthless a human being he was, and I noted, offhand, that every time I've had a non-player character display any human weakness in a game, at least half the players have despised them. This isn't an exaggeration. It's probably more like 80%. And I mean any weakness. If they aren't in any way perfect in their character and their actions, some or all of the party will hate them.

I've spent some time thinking about this, and it's made me think about point of view. These players don't know what came before his breakdown, and they don't know what came after. They just saw him at the second lowest point of his life.

After, they saw an event that happened sooner, where he sprained his ankle. They hate him for that even more, because they don't know that the next thing he did was run more than a mile on that ankle to get to the place where he finally broke down. After that they experience a later flashback where he tries to commit the fantasy equivalent of suicide by cop (that's the actual lowest point in his life), because the events that happened on that day have broken him.

So they hate him more.

Now this happens in many playthroughs of the adventure, and certain aspects like how tired and uncomfortable the players are have effects. Many of the players will stop hating him at the end, when they see the entirety of his story, and learn the horrors he accidently unleashed upon his life by trying to do the right thing. Others will never stop hating him.

But the matter is context. I'm pretty sure at least 80% of my players wouldn't be able to live up to the heroism that character displays throughout the course of the story, if it were to happen in their real lives. But won't have sympathy for him because an RPG means that they will never see inside his head.

Often, when we get notes back from writer's groups, they aren't that stringent, although I have one book submitted at Baen where multiple readers despised the main character. But usually our notes are somewhere in the middle. They don't care about the character. They don't feel his pain.

These readers are having the same problem the gamers have, but on a lesser level. They have the context of the problem, but they don't have the feelings to fully resonate.

Usually when you get this one, you haven't lived deeply enough in the characters brain. Readers need to feel the pains and the joys of a character for their journey to make sense. They need to laugh and cry alongside. You need to get deep into the character's self, experience all their reactions, and live there to really feel it.  Otherwise, it's all just watching a character be weak.

That's it, I think. If you don't inhabit the characters mind, all you can see is the weakness. You can never see the strength.

One caution, though. Don't go too far with the despair. I once depicted a character's grief and guilt after the loss of a loved one. It was about two pages long. I thought it was a rather light touch. It was nothing like the grief I felt over a real death. Maybe 10%. It thought I'd given it short shrift.

My notes back on that scene were that they couldn't believe that the character would do anything next but commit suicide. I was a little stunned. I'd barely touched on what it felt like to suffer a loss. But the readers didn't want to suffer a loss. They wanted to pull back from that experience, see the character grieve, but only feel a hint of it themselves.

I'm not sure that I found any great wisdom in today's post. But I didn't force you to experience the pain of a car accident. So I suppose that's something. :)

And. You know. Curse Wymore. I'm sure this is all his fault.

Turning Off Your Inner Editor

I shouldn't mock Wymore so much. James Wymore is a swell guy. Just ask him.

In response to my last post, someone mentioned that their problem with writer's block isn't not wanting to write, it's turning off their internal editor.

Unfortunately, there isn't a lot of how-to information on turning off your internal editor. It's just something you have to do. I can give you some general advice, however.

Know your limits, and learn where your slippery slope lies. While I don't typically go back and edit sentences while I'm writing (I expect to edit them when preparing my submission for Writers' Group), I know that if I do go back, I won't get sucked in. Not everyone can say that. I know people that if they start editing a paragraph, they won't get any more writing done that day, they will go down a proverbial rabbit hole of editing.

I suspect some people can't even let themselves correct basic spelling errors. So know your limitations. Understand where that slippery slope starts.

And it's worth mentioning another motivator here. Deadlines.

I've mentioned it before, but my Writer's Group is every Thursday night and it's the Dark and Hungry God That Must Be Fed. The offshoot of that is that when I sit down to write, my goal is to hit wordcount. Editing can come later. I write a thousand words every 40 minutes when writing drama (an hour and a half when writing comedy.) I usually write before bed, so if I don't hit that word count in the allotted time, I don't get to sleep. Editing can come later.

And that brings me to something Tim Powers says at Writer's of the Futures. First drafts are supposed to be terrible. If your first draft isn't terrible, you've done it wrong. Seriously. If you write a good first draft, you've failed. As a writer. Failed. As a writer. Taste the failure. You're writing failure.

As I said, I can't tell you how to turn off that editor, all I can do is tell you ways to incentivise yourself to turn off that editor. Now, get to writing. Badly.

Chop chop.

Writing When You Don't Want to Write

Last week I awoke, confused, naked, my memory foggy and disjointed. I fell from a glass canister, essentially decanted onto the cold, unforgiving concrete of a stark laboratory. Not knowing what to do, I managed to fashion a handheld canister torch and a broken bit of glassware into weapons.

On the stairs out I found creatures half shark, half nightmare, and half elder being. (That isn't too many halves when you allow for non-euclidean elder magic). Hacking and cutting, wading through puss and ichor, I finally fought my way to the cleansing light of the noonday sun. Only then, when I finally drank the first deep draughts of free air, did I find myself facing... myself. I stared at me. Me stared back. Then we both struck.

I don't know who survived. I hold the memories of both in my mind. Am I the fell clone or did I kill him in that unblinking sun? I don' t know. I know something more important, though.

Never leave spare genetic matter around Wymore's house, no matter how badly you have to use the restroom.

Anyway.

I hear a lot about writer's block. I hear about it at conventions and on the internet. Advice and tips and commiseration. I know it's a problem for a lot of people. I can't speak to what it's like to be other people (except as noted, above). So I want to be careful not to say that I don't believe in writer's block. But I can tell you what it means for me.

Writer's block is me not wanting to write.

It can take a lot of forms. Wanting to play a computer game. Wanting to sit down and read for an hour. Wanting to nap. Avoidance and dodging and procrastination. Sometimes I'd rather clean the house than actually write, and I hate cleaning the house.

Heinlein said something along the lines of: he writes because the only thing worse that writing is not writing.

The last time I really had "writer's block" was while working on a paper in high school. It wasn't a real matter of being blocked. It was a matter of wanting to do anything other that assignment. That time I found my solution. If I put on Beethoven and just forced myself to write, I always find the writer's block goes away in about fifteen minutes. I don't know if that's because Beethoven is particularly inspiring, or if it's because I know that if can make myself stop needing it, I can put on something that I like more.

If I had to give advice to someone earlier in their career than myself, <insert obligatory joke about my "career" here>, then it would be to try Nano this month, or next year, since this advice is probably too late to save 2015. I'm talking about National Novel Writing Month.

I don't participate myself, but I have in the past. I did it on two consecutive years. Each time I set a goal of hitting 100,000 words instead of the standard of 50k. Each time I petered out around Thanksgiving with 70-something thousand. And then, my writer's group submissions covered for the rest of the year, I stopped writing until January.

I produced one novel that is probably beyond redemption and one that I have in submission right now. But a more important thing happened. I showed myself that I have the discipline to sit down and write three thousand words a day. They might not be good, but "good" isn't the point of Nano. Nano is about learning discipline.

You go to work every day. You don't whine and say you have "data entry block." You don't beg off because you don't feel it. You do the job because that's your job. Or you get fired. Every day. That's what it means to be a productive member of society.

You might say, "But Bob. You're brilliant and handsome and hyper-intelligent." I get that a lot. You might go on to say, "I work shelving groceries" or balancing spread sheets, or selling leads, or whatever you do. "That isn't creative work," you say. "That's different."

I'd say talk to the professional writer's out there. Your Brandon Sandersons and your Kevin J. Andersons and your Jim Butchers. The guys that really show us what it means to be a working writer. Do you think they ever just "don't feel like writing"? I'd submit that they probably feel like that every day. You know what they don't do?

They don't care.

They sit down. And they hammer out the words, or they do the painful edit, or they go to that one last signing when they don't think they can possibly smile at one more fan. They do it because it's their job to do it, and they love their job. They will do anything to make sure we don't fire them, because they know they work for us.

Or they write a blog about writer's block. You know. Whatever.

Editing and Temporal Distance

Look, I've said a lot of things about Wymore that might give you the wrong idea. He has the heart of an innocent child. His collection is really quite extensive. He also has the body of an Olympic athlete.

This week I want to talk about emotional distance and editing.

The time will come in your career, when you no longer have the luxury of taking ten years to write a book. I'm looking at you, Martin. In the meantime, I want to talk about stepping back from a book, and the effect that has on your ability to edit your work.

I see too many writers who can't put down a manuscript. They circulate from writer's group to writer's group, rewriting the same book over and over. They are determined that this will be the book that they publish. It's probably the first book in a ten book series.

Needless to say, this tactic is doomed to fail.

To edit a book objectively, you need emotional distance. This is a skill that you learn over time. I expect Scalzi or Correia can get to the place they need to be in a matter of days. Maybe hours. I don't know. I've never asked.

But if you're reading this, I'm assuming you aren't a successful writer. If you are, Hey. How ya doing? See you next Comic Con.

This is a skill I've been thinking about as I write the sequel to Death by Cliché. You see, I'd LOVE to submit the book in the spring. But I won't finish writing it until about the New Year. That's not a lot of time for rewrites.

My usual tactic is to allow at least a full book's worth of writing between drafts in a book. At least six months of time for the book to percolate in my head. If I take enough time, I know that when I come back to the book, I won't be married to the words any longer. I can study them objectively.

Because we love what we write, and often the things we love the most are the ones that are the ones we most need to cut. That takes a level of objectiviness that's hard to maintain.

I can't remember if I've said it on this blog before, but being a professional writer requires a strange blend of abilities. You have to believe in something completely when you're writing it and when you're submitting it. You also have to be able to drop it and move on with a shrug when it's time. Sometimes that refers to a line of text. Sometimes your favorite joke. Sometimes an entire novel.

Some of the biggest problems I see appear during the late portions of a writer's career is when they lose this ability, and yet they are too big to be rejected. We've all seen that happen.

I have hope. At least with the sequel to Death by Cliche, I see a change in how I'm handling my writer's group. I don't have the time to be precious about my stuff anymore. When they tell me something isn't working, I'm eager. I don't feel the level of pain I've felt taking criticism in the past.

And that means maybe I've developed that crucial skill.

Or maybe the next book will suck. I'm genuinely excited to find out which it's going to be.