Let’s Talk About – My Writer Quirks

So, if there’s one thing my writing group has exposed to me by accident, it’s my collection of what I think of as “Writer Quirks”: illogical standards / habits that dictate how and what I write.

I mean, I knew they were there, but some of them have been discovered by my writing group, so I’m thinking about them more this weekend.

And, since I woke up to some serious snowfall, I thought ‘why not just take a chill snow day and talk about my Quirks–the things that make me the weird writer I am?’

Yeah. Yeah, that could be fun and chill, so let’s do it.

Number 1 – I love writing in inclement weather.

There’s something about rain in particular that gets the creative juices flowing for me.

And, to be totally honest . . . I think it’s because of Jurassic Park.

Please don’t tease me, but one of the first stories I wrote was about me and my cousins trapped in my old apartment with my cats, who’d become Velociraptor-sized for some mysterious reason.

I was, like, 10 and had just seen Jurassic Park, so cut me some slack.

Anyway, yes, that movie was massively influential for me, so whenever it rains (like it did in the T-Rex scene), the urge to write hits really hard.

And, even if it isn’t raining, I can find an ambient rain sounds video on YouTube, put on headphones, and just go.

Number 2 – I love mustache-twirling villains.

Despite evidence to the contrary on this site, I do love villains. But not the misunderstood, “morally ascendant” ones.

No, I love obviously evil mustache-twirlers.

Like, the more ‘comically evil visual cues’ they toss out at first glance, the better. Is that villain in a black leather coat? Great. Is that villain in a black leather trench coat with shades on, and eyes that are burning so fucking red you can see them through the shades? Fucking glorious.

Paramount among them (obviously) is Albert Wesker as he appeared in Resident Evil 5, where he takes “obviously evil” to the ultra max.

Like, “Guys . . . I don’t want to jump to conclusions here, but . . . I think this guy is evil?”

Making him look like a stern, Aryan man was not enough; he had to be a stern, Aryan Terminator in (what looks like) head-to-toe snake skin.

It’s just so over-the-top. I love it.

Number 3 – I love writing outside
(but I hate writing at coffee shops).

I know–I should hand in my Writer Card right now.

But, seriously, I must have missed the window where it was comfortable to write in a coffee shop.

Because, every time I try, the “You can only sit for 30 minutes while eating” sign blares at me. Or the overhead music does. Or there’s a group in the corner, laughing and talking loudly about whatever. Or there are the people around me, working on/looking at who-knows-what on their computers (porn being a very real option from the Starbucks stories I’ve heard). And, real talk, that mystery of “What are they working on/looking at?” emboldens people to just stare at your computer screen while you write; seriously, the last time I wrote at a Starbucks, the woman sitting next to me went zero-fucks and openly started reading what I was writing.

Yeah. Thanks–I’m good.

However, I do like writing pretty much anywhere else outdoors–the more secluded, the better.

And this all came from my first NaNoWriMo, where I discovery-wrote Memory in different spots all over New York. The first post in that series, (which I called 30 Days of NaNoWriMo) starts at home (which was not the plan), but what followed was a fun, 30-day romp where I searched for places I could viably write, ending with the Cloisters. And I think that romp ruined me forever. I can (and still do) write from home, but I will almost always write more enthusiastically outside.

Unless it’s at a coffee shop.

Number 4 – I was heavily inspired by
Samus Aran from Metroid.

I’ve probably talked about this on here before, but a major influence for my strong female protagonists was Samus Aran. In particular, the above diagram from the Super Metroid Nintendo Player’s Guide.

My Samus is and always will be 6’3” and 200 lbs.

That said, Samus is only one side of the “Strong Female Character” spectrum; on the other side is Mabel Pines, who I’ve wanted to write an entire post about for a while. For now, suffice it to say that I love Samus for being a strong woman who’s massive, imposing, and badass . . . and I also love Mabel Pines for being a strong woman who’s nerdy, boy-thirsty, and hilarious.

Samus was an awesome gateway for me and I will always love her, but it’s important to say that she is not the end-all example of what a strong woman is.

Number 5 – FFVI made me want to write Fantasy.
FFVII guaranteed I’d never write anything else.

I was massively inspired by Jurassic Park, but my desire to write awesome stuff was forever turned from “no-frills American action movie” to “Fantasy” when I played Final Fantasy VI for the first time.

The Magitek Armor (made weird and fluid by the art of Yoshitaka Amano), the presence of fae-like Espers (who were not simple analogues of traditional deities), the variety of characters (who reach into pretty much every extreme a crew can have [from a spunky kid to a weary old man]), and the 11th hour twist that the villain succeeds in destroying the world (and you have to fight through the aftermath) made me irrevocably invested in Fantasy’s potential to be unique.

But I didn’t really understand Fantasy’s range until I played Final Fantasy VII.

I don’t want to rant about that game, so I’ll just say that it was the first time I experienced a Fantasy story set in a modern city.

And, as a kid growing up in the Bronx, the idea that a Fantasy story could be based in a modern city–that the slums under a giant city could be the starting point for an adventure with otherworldly monsters and magic–blew my goddamn mind.

I wouldn’t trade the bizarre potential and impossible range of Fantasy for the world.

Number 6 – I have a special designation for music
I want to write stories for–“righteous.”

Last thing–I take crazy amounts of inspiration from music, which I think a lot of us do.

However, I often find songs I want to write for. And, at some point, I started thinking of those songs as “righteous.”

I don’t know how this “righteous song” thing started, but most of the time, those songs will never fit into any of my WIP’s. For example, “Spectre” by Radiohead is the intro theme for a story I am not writing. What is that story? No idea, but I want to write something that fits “Spectre” so badly, and I don’t know why. It just triggers a part of my brain and evokes emotions that I really want to make into a story. I used imagine it as the theme for Aixa the Hexcaster, but it doesn’t fit Aixa’s tone either, so it will forever float as the intro theme for . . . something in my brain.

Once in a blue moon though, the visceral muse of certain songs does inspire entire stories; “Time’s Scar,” from the intro to Chrono Cross, is directly responsible for The Hand and the Tempest, the big project I’m working on after Memory. I heard that song in high school and created an entire story from it. Well, I was in high school, so really, I imagined a CG intro for a story, and then, 15 years later, made that CG intro into a workable plot, but still, if a = b, and b = c, then something-something-math.

~~~

Okay. it is now the late afternoon, so I’m going to clean up what I have and post this. I hope everyone is doing well, and if you liked this post, I’ll be posting again next Sunday . . . or Monday, depending on how insane next week is. I’m potentially landing a freelancing contract, so I will either be bummed but relaxed next week, or happy but wild-eyed and hyperventilating from the effort of making a design project perfect.

Either way, stay safe, enjoy the rest of your day, and eat your oatmeal.

. . .

I started eating oatmeal again recently and found that my old man taste buds think it’s delicious, so I’m on that kick now . . . Anyway, bye!

A Writer Watching – Wonder Woman 1984, Part 2

Well, it looks like it’s that time again. What time, you ask?

1984. Unfortunately.

This second part of “A Writer Watching – Wonder Woman 1984″ feels like a doozy, so I’m going to jump right in.

However, this is the second part of a two-parter, so if you haven’t read part 1 yet, you might want to do that first.

That said, let’s do this . . .

Yay.

Wonder Woman 1984 (cont.)

  • (1:15:04) Barbara murders the gross dude from earlier.
    I understand that what I’m supposed to be getting from this scene is that the monkey’s paw is making Barbara evil, but, again, there’s been no build up to her becoming evil. At worst, she’s ignored people when they were speaking to her. To jump from that to murder is pre-e-e-e-etty big, even with her victim being a total scumbag.
    What’s really coming through for me is the “Nerd Rage” trope, where a person who’s perceived as weak gets powers and immediately turns evil to get back at the people who persecuted them.
    Fun.
  • (1:19:41) Okay. Max Lord goes to Emir Said Bin Abydos, who wishes for control of his land. The monkey’s paw part of our Deus Ex Machina erects a wall around that land, which means his people won’t have access to water.
    But isn’t Max Lord supposed to decide the punishment for the wish? Isn’t the blowback for Emir’s wish supposed to be that Max Lord takes his security team?
    What I’m getting at here is that this is the point where the rules for Max’s powers get muddled.
  • (1:21:58) Diana gets out of her car and starts running after Max Lord’s convoy.
    And it looks . . . terrible.
    I understand that this isn’t necessarily the writer’s fault, but I will take this opportunity to make a point: it doesn’t matter how awesome your character is; if you write them doing something that might look stupid, there’s a possibility they will look stupid.
    And I think this needs to be said because, more than any other genre, Fantasy is full of ‘might look stupid’ moments. For example, “he jumped up and kicked the first bad guy in the face, but also used his face as a foothold. In a second, he was running across all of their faces in a perfect circle, knocking a new bad guy out with every step!” Like . . . Okay. I’m not going to say you can’t write that, but the chances readers will read that and imagine it looking cool are pre-e-e-etty low.
  • (1:23:24) Diana gets hit with a bullet, and we’re supposed to realize she’s losing her powers.
    But Diana has never once been shot before this.
    There was a moment earlier (when she struggled to pull a lock off of door) that hinted at her powers being the price she paid for Steve Trevor coming back.
    But I thought the price was that Steve was in another man’s body (but Diana just oddly didn’t care about that).
    So, what I’m left to believe then is that . . . Diana did wish for Steve to come back in another man’s body?
    Whatever. This movie needed to do a better job seeding Diana losing her powers.
    Or, even better, just don’t do the “sequel where the hero loses/gives up their powers” trope, because it’s overdone.
  • (1:24:13) Diana flips over a truck that’s behind Max Lord’s vehicle, uses it to propel herself into the air, and . . . lands on the front of Max Lord’s vehicle, facing him. Notice that the movie does not show the mid-air turn necessary to get her into that position. Just a weird, disjointed cut from her falling, facing forward, to her on the hood of Max’s car, facing the opposite direction.
    Again, spacing and action execution in action scenes is so goddamn important. If you’re struggling to make a character pull off an awesome feat, just think of another awesome feat for them to do. One that makes sense.
  • (1:25:42) I realize this whole fight could be a lesson in spatial awareness in an action scene, but this last moment, where Steve fires a rocket and Diana whips onto it and sails through the air to save some kids ahead of the convoy, re-e-e-e-eally takes the cake. It’s silly, bizarre, and overly complicated (with Steve needing to understand how to fire a rocket out of a military vehicle he’s never seen before and Diana needing to whip the rocket away after getting far enough ahead [but not losing any momentum whatsoever while she does so]).
    But, on top of that, another common problem I see in fiction happens at the beginning of this scene; Steve shows Diana a rocket and shouts, “Diana!” and she nods, showing that, yep, she gets what he’s thinking—even though there’s no way she possibly could.
    I call this “the Look,” based on D&D players metagaming by giving each other “a look that says I’ll kill the first goblin while you grab the treasure.”
    Really? What kind of look? Please explain.
    The Look happens in fiction all the time as well, and it’s something to keep in mind because it can get out of hand very easily.
    “She gave him a look that said she didn’t buy the minister’s lies,” is totally fine and makes sense.
    “She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe the minister was telling the entire truth,” is pushing it.
    “She gave him a look that said she knew the minister was going to kill again tonight and that she was going to try and get it out of him right now,” does not make sense.
  • (1:29:04) The macguffin being tied to the mysterious downfalls of ancient civilizations is one of the most tired tropes a macguffin can have.
  • (1:29:45) Barbara Minerva is in full, post-murder bad guy gear, and I have to say, again, that I feel really bad for Kristen Wiig.
    There are a lot of 80’s styles Wardrobe could’ve used to make a woman look cool and evil.
    The outfits they gave her in this movie were not it.
  • (1:33:46) I just have to take a moment to point out here that I love Pedro Pascal, who does a great job in this moment (when he’s not directed to act like a weird goofball).
  • (1:35:44) If I had to pick one scene that I really like from this movie, it’s this heartbreaking moment with Max Lord and his son. Max, a living monkey’s paw, tries to get his son to wish for his own greatness, but his son, who loves him, winds up wishing for his dad’s greatness. Pascal’s reactions really sell how badly Max wants his son to succeed and how hard he takes it when that potential is unwittingly thrown away.
  • (1:41:11) Again, zero setup on a Deus Ex Machina—this time, the golden, winged armor Diana will use in the third act.
    And I’m sure that the argument can be made that this scene is the set up, but if a story spends 43 seconds setting up flashy armor that only exists to be flashy (and has absolutely no effect on the larger plot), then it’s A) a bad, rushed set up, and B) the armor isn’t worth having in the movie.
    And it’s a shame because, man, just imagine if the intro with the tournament had established that the armor would, like, magically manifest on the strongest of the Amazons. Maybe the Amazon who won that tournament has that armor bond with them because they made some crazy sacrifice (like Lynda Carter’s character did). Maybe the Amazon who earned the armor stopped in the middle of the tournament to help another, injured Amazon get to the finish line while young Diana ran past them because she didn’t realize or was too focused on winning (and that’s why she doesn’t win the prologue tournament). I mean, that’s off the top of my head, but what I’m getting at is, ffs, how much cooler would it have been if, after struggling with losing Steve, Diana sacrificed him (and her own happiness) at the end and that’s why the armor came to her. Not just a flashy suit upgrade, but a physical embodiment of her sacrifice that allowed her to fly, like Steve. At the very least, I would’ve been invested in it.
  • (1:42:26) Wonder Woman sees CCTV footage of Max Lord’s car driving through Washington D.C.
    And, for the millionth time, setting.
    How does she have a hook up to CCTV footage in Washington D.C. . . . in the 80’s?
    Was there already a complex network of surveillance set up in the 80’s, or did Wonder Woman go around and hook up cameras in different hot spots for years? And, if so, why did she put one here?
    Can’t help feeling it would’ve been cleaner to show a news broadcast with a reporter like, “This just in: the President has set aside an important foreign diplomacy meeting to meet with Max Lord.”
    Because even if there was a CCTV network in America in the 80’s, that would just make this a classic example of the Stranger than Fiction phenomenon.
  • (1:48:04) Steve picks up a sword with the intent to kill Secret Service officers, but Diana says, “No, Steve, you can’t use that,” because of course he shouldn’t just kill people who are under Max’s control (also, how a former American soldier would think of skewering Secret Service with a fucking sword is beyond me–I guess Steve is a Patriot?).
    But then, after telling Steve no, Diana throws her insane, razor sharp tiara at their heads, which they only narrowly duck.
    She doesn’t even throw it at the lights for cover. She throws it at them.
    Diana! If you want to murder them yourself, just say so!
  • (1:50:20) I still feel bad for Kristen Wiig. In part because the idea of a villain getting their powers by wishing on a monkey’s paw is interesting—to me. I think if they’d just left it there, that would’ve been pretty cool. I am absolutely sure it’s been done, but I still enjoy the cleanliness of that idea. No science experiment gone wrong. Just a person wishing they could be cool like their friend without knowing that A) their friend had super powers and B) their wish would be granted. I dig it. Especially because it could yield a very interesting mentoring situation gone wrong, maybe with Barbara learning about/going to Themiscyra, being corrupted by the idea that she, a human, is stronger than all of the Amazons.
    Unfortunately, this movie hurdles right the fuck over all of that. In this fight scene in the White House, Barb even predicts and counters an attack Diana almost never uses, because this movie wants us to feel like they’ve been rivals for decades (because they have been–in the comics). Gotta love that good ol’ total-lack-of-patience!
  • (1:53:01) We get a few lines here from Kristen about how Wonder Woman has “always had everything” and “people like me have nothing.”
    The thing is, there is absolutely a conversation to be had about “pretty privilege” and other forms of discrimination (age, weight, color, sex). It’s too bad this movie actually demonizes the awkward nerd, who was genuinely being treated like shit at the beginning of the movie. Because the only thing worse than a nerd is a nerd who’s angry that everyone treats them like shit, amirite?
    Fuck this movie.
  • (1:53:59) Here, in the same conversation as above, Diana is bloody and bruised, her hair messy.
    And, as a fan of a hero getting fucked up over the course of their adventure, I just have to say . . . please, everybody, more of this. Especially if you’re writing a female protagonist. Because, I dunno about everyone else, but I am the kind of feminist who’s ready for his female protagonists to take battle damage. Like, straight up, fuck the male gaze; give me the female superhero who gets fucked up like Tobey’s Spider-Man at the end of their movies.
  • (1:55:25) I am a big fan of “shit is going down” super hero stories, where the threat feels palpable. I have to give it to this movie for at least selling me on the bizarre idea that one irresponsible dude being able to grant everyone whatever they wished for would destroy Earth in one day.
  •  (1:57:35) Diana tells Steve that she’ll never love again, but Steve tells her, “That isn’t true,” and can we please get more male characters who say extremely healthy shit like this, please?
    I still hate the entire Ghost Steve situation, but this one line is the kind of example more male characters need to provide.
  • (1:58:00) Also, Wonder Woman saying, “I can’t say goodbye” to you, and you replying, “You don’t have to. I’m already gone,” is just so good. Like, yes, sure, BDE. But more important, saying the perfect thing to get someone to revoke the wish that’s keeping you alive is incredible.
    Seriously, I always try to predict what characters are going to say in a movie (it’s just a bad habit I have), and I was actually surprised by that line.
  • (1:58:29) First, props to Gal Gadot for really selling this entire ordeal.
    Second though . . . you can just renounce your wish from anywhere, without touching the monkey’s paw?
    So . . . what’s the point of the monkey’s paw then? They’re supposed to punish you for being covetous, but if you can just cancel at any time, that means you can opt out of the punishment after getting the reward (if you’re smart). For example, I can be like, “I wish to be able to safely teleport anywhere I want.” According to this movie’s logic, I’d then have that power for, like, 3 days before anything bad starts to happen, and when it does, I can just say, “I renounce my wish,” and be fine. You could make the argument of, “Well, you would lose whatever you got with that power,” but does that include experiences? Cause I’d spend one day in Japan, another in New Zealand, a third day wild carding (like, on the moon and shit). This movie doesn’t indicate that people lose the memories, so I’m golden. Gimme that shit! Where’s it at!?
  • (1:58:58) I can’t believe the set up for Wonder Woman learning how to fly is “she whipped too hard, then whipped onto a plane for reasons that aren’t clear.”
    Just . . . what?
  • (2:01:05) Max Lord offers Barbara a second wish and she wishes she was in Cats.
    All of this is just stupid and I’m tired. LOL
    Just to scale it back and talk big picture here . . . why the fuck did they even need to make Kristen Wiig into cat lady? I get that she’s Cheetah, and fans want to see Cheetah VS Wonder Woman.
    But this is the kind of massive contrivance that ruins comic book movies—the moments where they have to adhere to their source material, even when that adherence is not properly set up.
    In an alternate reality somewhere, WW84 had the patience to set up Barbara as a morally grey sidekick, and then, in WW3, she becomes evil, finds the Jellicle Stone, and uses it to gain more power, becoming Cheetah in the process.
  • (2:02:23) The rules of Max Lord’s power go to absolute shit at the end here. Not a single fuck was given. “Oh. He can ‘touch’ people by being in a broadcasting station, broadcasting to televisions that no one is touching? Okay. Sure. What-the fuck-ever.”
  • (2:03:10) Max Lord manages to broadcast himself to everyone on planet Earth who has a TV, and I just have to laugh here. Because if I was alive for this—if Max Lord was real and he did this tomorrow—the moment he said, “All you have to do is make a wish,” I–freshly torn away from Control, which I just started playing–would absolutely roll my eyes and say, “Well, I wish Max Lord would shut the fuck up forever and let me get back to my game,” and his entire plan would be ruined. By just one smarmy asshole.
    And there is no way in hell I’m the only person who would do that.
    In fact, if I had just gotten home with a ton of groceries and I was tired, there’s a 95% chance I would sigh at my TV and say, “I wish Max Lord would fuck off and die.” Seriously, I say that kind of thing all the time without thinking—stupid, schoolyard exaggerations that I would logically never expect/actually want to happen.
    Max’s plan here would have failed immediately.
  • (2:04:34) I actually laughed really hard when the “She’s riding the lightning!” scene they kept showing in the promos was a totally pointless 5 seconds. Because of course it was.
  • (2:06:01) Cannons start shooting up into the clouds at something you can’t see. Turns out to be an awesome, badass, female superhero.
    No way you’ll ever see that in a Marvel movie.
  • (2:07:21) Cheetah finally appears. No transformation.
    Cheetah doesn’t look terrible, but this fight is . . . not great.
    And of course it isn’t. I mean, if we’ve learned anything, it’s that the writers behind this movie didn’t think about the space of their scenes and the execution of their action, so of course Diana blocks Cheetah’s attacks for (by my rough count) 35 seconds. She and Cheetah then spend about a minute swinging from Diana’s whip. Then, she and Diana fall in a pool of water, into which Diana pulls an electrical wire. And that electrocutes Cheetah . . . but not Diana?
    But, hold on, isn’t Cheetah also a god now? Actually, isn’t she better than one? Because she initially wished to be like Diana, who, per the first film, is a literal god . . . But then, Barb wished to be better than Diana and “everyone else.” So shouldn’t she be shifting reality and teleporting around? I mean, this is the DC universe, so she should’ve flown down on a god ray wearing a cape and punched Diana into the center of the Earth, because Superman counts as “everyone else.”
    Or, at the very least, she should’ve been able to withstand some fucking electricity.
  • (2:13:47) There’s not much else for me to go on here, but there is a moment that perfectly encapsulates this entire movie.
    Max Lord is taking wishes from people and building his own power. In a moment, Diana will use her whip to . . . talk to all of the people Max is transmitting to?
    It’s all-the-way stupid.
    I do like the idea of a villain being talked down instead of punched down, and (although it’s bizarre that he and Cheetah get off 100% Scot-free) I do find it interesting to see villains get passes. It even seems like Max gets a chance to reform, which is surprisingly healthy for a comic book movie.
    That said, in this moment at 2:13:47, Diana leans back against a wall, and her armor . . . pushes it in, making it clear that the wall is foam. And of course it is; Gal Gadot fell back against it, so it makes sense it would be made out of foam as a safety precaution on her behalf.
    But this shot, where her shoulder dips softly into concrete, is what this entire movie has been.
    No one cared. No one double-checked the plot or questioned the action. They saw the kinks—the weird hoops the story had to jump through—and they shrugged. In the same way an editor saw the wall pressing in and shrugged.
    “It’s fine,” they might have said aloud.
    “Yes, I see those obvious flaws, but whatever. There are cool moments and my main character is rad. I’m good.”
    And all I have to say is, “Please, no.”
    Please, never, ever think that.
    Writing—particularly editing—is a dangerous game. A lot of people keep working on their stories for eternity, never actually trying to get them published. That, obviously, is bad.
    But it’s just as bad to see genuine flaws in your work and just shrug them away.
    If something in your work is bad, it’s an opportunity to write something better. Because, at least in my experience, that’s almost always how correcting mistakes goes; no matter how deep I have to go into a plot to excise a loophole, my WIP’s are always better for it.

So, yes, if there’s one idea Wonder Woman 1984 reinforced in me, it’s the importance of editing, especially if you’re editing something you love.

But, also, it’s super important to understand settings.

Oh, and don’t ever put a dead character into a stranger’s body and totally disregard that stranger’s emotions.

And–goddammit, no. Nope. I’m just stopping! I need this part of my life to be over!

~~~

Thanks for passing by. I hope you enjoyed this honestly reserved criticism of a comic book movie that made millions of dollars regardless of how bad it was.

If you’d like to read another one, well boy howdy, I’ve done one other brutal takedown of a big budget Hollywood film, the cost and profit from which could’ve been used to save tons of people from poverty! Ha ha! Enjoy!

A Writer Watching – Solo: A Star Wars Story

Until next time, take care, stay safe, and if you know someone who’s lived totally by themselves for 10 months at this point, maybe check in on them? Everyone’s different, and everyone’s situation is unique, but if they’re still social distancing and they’re one of the many who probably won’t get the vaccine until the Summer, they’d probably appreciate hearing from you.

A Writer Watching – Wonder Woman 1984, Part 1

Okay. So, I still only want to be positive on this site.

But if there’s one massively influential avenue of media that needs to be heavily criticized when it’s bad, it’s movies. I never want to tear apart someone’s novel or short story on here, but giant blockbuster franchise movies are just free in my eyes. They’re often written by committee, the people who write them usually fail upward anyway (because that’s how Hollywood works for some reason), and if I was watching any of them with an impressionable young writer, I would absolutely take the time afterward to be like, “Okay . . . You get why elements of that were really bad, right? Like, I know you thought it was cool, but you get how stupid it is that Palpatine came back, right? Please tell me you understand.”

But, let’s be real: even if I knew any budding writers, I’m not social enough or confrontational enough to watch a bad movie they like to break down why is sucks.

So, instead, I’m going to continue doing what I feel oddly compelled to do: use my platform to float these criticisms out into the ether with the hopes that someone who needs to find them finds them.

Folks . . . it’s time for another Writer Watching.

This time (finally) on a movie that was released recently:

Wonder Woman 1984

Now, to preface, two things.

First, this watch wound up being so long that I had to split this Writer Watching into two parts.

Second, before I watched WW84, I watched Wonder Woman for the first time, and I liked it, but really wish it had ended differently; I feel like it would’ve been way better if the ending was just, “Nope—Ares died a long time ago and people are just bad. Time to fight Dr. Poison and magical cocaine man [I do not know his name].” Of everything I liked in that movie though, the thing I liked most was Diana herself. The movie was at its best when it was totally unafraid to just lean into her character (I loved that moment near the beginning where she sees a baby and is all, “Awww!”). So, what I’m trying to say here is, I was excited to watch WW84 tonight because I like Wonder Woman and I was expecting this movie to be good.

But about 12 minutes in, I texted a friend like, “Oh-h-h-h-h-h no-o-o-o-o-o-o.”

  • (11:45) The intro to our setting, 1984. Specifically, 11:45 is the moment where a jogger wearing a walkman almost gets run over by a car, but Diana kicks it out of the way . . . on a street lined with other cars. It makes a football punting sound, and, sure, that’s a (bad) foley choice, but the real problem is . . .
    . . . it’s a street full of cars.
    I would give anything for a follow up shot of the car she kicked slamming into three other cars, but Diana just jogs by like, “<wink> You’re welcome!”
  • (12:33) Okay, look . . . I am a soundtrack man. I never, ever talk about it on this site, but I have a bizarre affinity for movie and TV soundtracks. I do not know why. It’s a very stupid super power that just makes me weird whenever I use it. Seriously, the last time I did, it was at a morning meeting at my old job. One of my managers was like, “I’m gonna hum a tune, and if you know where it’s from, shout it out.” I shit you not, he was like, “Dun den—“ and I was like, “Duck Tails,” and he was like, “Wha—Holy shit. How the fuck did you get that?” and no one felt more uncomfortable about it than I did.
    That said, a retro 80’s movie not having an 80’s synth soundtrack is a bizarre, objective failure. I do not know why this movie has these jaunty orchestral compositions, but it absolutely destroys this film’s attempts at establishing an 80’s vibe.
  • (16:26) I really dig this thing they’re doing where Diana dashes and slides around. I don’t know why—it’s just cool. I have to wonder if they originally intended to have her in plain clothes on roller skates . . . Hard to tell if that would be horrible or great, but still, I dig the long range, sliding combat.
  • (16:45) I am completely aware that Diana threw her tiara earlier in this scene to destroy the mall’s cameras.
    But it is objectively bizarre when she gives this kid a wink and a “Shhh.” It’s an adorable moment . . . but there are roughly 300 other people who watched all of this, in broad daylight.
    The “shhh” makes zero sense. The other 299 people who were here are going straight to the first camera they see, describing Diana to a T, and the cops are going to put out an APB on a vigilante they call Wonder Woman.
    How none of that happens will always be beyond me. Instantly, my Suspension of Disbelief is out the window.
  • (17:35) Okay. This is just a small aside, but . . . objectively . . . these movies take a little too much inspiration from the Captain America films.
    I’m sorry. I know no one wants to hear that, but this moment where we see pictures of Diana with characters from the first movie who grew old and died . . . It’s just a retread of Steve Rogers talking to Peggy Carter in The Winter Soldier.
  • (18:50) Man, Diana drinking alone sixty-six years after the only person she loved died is the most Libra thing I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life.
    I am a Libra, btw, so I can say that.
  • (20:17) I feel so bad for Kristen Wiig.
    Girl, you did not deserve to get Electro’d in this superhero movie.
    Actually, let me upgrade that statement: no one deserves to get Electro’d anymore.
    Please, just . . . if you’re writing a super hero thing where the villain is a clumsy nerd who crushes on the hero, please just change it immediately. “The jealous, sweaty nerd” is just a terrible, weird, meat-headed angle for a villain.
  • (23:20) Here, Diana and Kristen Wiig are looking at an artifact together. Somehow, Kristen, who’s trained in this kind of thing, A) doesn’t know Latin and B) doesn’t notice the Latin inscriptions on the artifact. So . . . is she a scientist or someone who just walked in off the street? I am asking the plot.
  • (29:35) Okay, this I probably don’t even need to say, but a magical macguffin that can grant wishes is Bad Writing 101. The fact that this thing is going to both bring Steve Trevor back to life and give our antagonist her powers is pre-e-e-e-etty lazy.
  • (31:40) Our villain wishes to a magical stone that she can be sexy. And then takes off her skirt . . . and is sexy, by the movie’s standards.
    I mean, did she really need a magical stone for that?
    But also, more importantly, she was beautiful to begin with! She is Kristen Wiig! Just . . . This is sending the worst message to nerd girls. “Being nerdy and having anxiety is bad. Being sexy and popular is good!” No. Being any combination of those things is good. Being who you are is good, girl. Don’t listen to this stupid fucking movie. Wear those giant glasses and get yourself some more flats, girl, cause you are beautiful!
  • (32:07) Oh, Mando. What did they do to you?
  • (33:25) Barbara and not-Mando are laughing while messing with artifacts in their lab.
    I volunteer in a conservation lab, and even if a fucking donor came in and started manhandling artifacts like this, we’d kick his ass out.
    Seriously, of all the issues this movie has, the most persistent one is an inability to understand its settings. The car being kicked on a crowded street, the absence of 80’s synth, characters manhandling artifacts and no one caring—someone just didn’t understand or think about any of these settings.
  • (47:10) I promise not to keep harping on this . . . but Steve Trevor is apparently <sigh> a man out of time.
    Can’t wait for more jokes like this futon bit from good ol’ Steve.
  • (48:48) Steve Trevor is such a man out of time that he can’t figure out why an exercise bike wouldn’t work like a normal bike.
    Seriously, no one is ever that out of time. That would be like me going to the future and being confused why I couldn’t pour water into a cup that had no bottom.
  • (49:45) Okay. This thing where Steve is in another man’s body is the most bizarre contrivance I’ve ever seen.
    Like, is this what Diana wished for? “Magic rock, please bring Steve back. But only his soul. Inside of someone else’s body, thanks.”
    If I was an editor and this hit my desk, I absolutely would’ve sent it back like, “If you have to work this hard to put Steve Trevor in the movie, he shouldn’t be in it.” A new relationship for Diana, or her focusing on making new friends, would’ve been fine for this movie. Ghost Steve is just strange.
    And creepy. I’m sure you’ve heard about that from anyone who reviewed this movie, but it needs to be said into infinity that it’s just wrong and gross that some random dude’s body is hijacked for Diana’s wish and no one cared. Steve didn’t care, Diana didn’t care—they just used his body. To have sex. It is . . . so creepy. I’ve heard some people ask, “What if he was gay?” which, yeah, totally. But even if he wasn’t, even if he was a straight dude who would be attracted to Diana, it would still be gross. Because if Gal Gadot knocked on my door and was like, “Wanna have sex?” I’d be like, “‘Yes’ is too long a word right now.” But if Gal Gadot knocked on my door and was like, “Hi. We actually had sex last week, when you were asleep, but you didn’t know. ; ),” I’d be like, “Ah . . . I have to go call the cops. BRB.”
    Just fucking ew.
  • (56:15) This is a dress-up montage, just like the one in the first Wonder Woman.
    It is also . . . Shitty Committee Writing 101—a sequel regurgitating a fun scene from its predecessor. This is something that many blockbuster sequels do, and it’s as painful here as it is anywhere.
    Just never do this. If you’re writing a sequel to something, never regurgitate the one scene. I don’t even like that later seasons of Daredevil had their own “hallway fights.” Just do something new instead.
  • (57:47) Steve Trevor’s mind is blown by an escalator.
    And I have to ask . . .Why are they writing Steve Trevor like a child?
    It’s just bizarre.
    He stepped onto an escalator, two feet away from where the escalator goes down . . . and somehow was not expecting it to go down?
    Did Steve Trevor never experience stairs back in World War I? Because that’s basically what an escalator is—stairs that move–and literally any adult who’s never experienced escalators before would be like, “Oh. They’re stairs that move. Cool.” Even if they never experienced stairs before, they’d be like, “Whoa. Some kind of device to move me from up here to down there,” not, “WhOoAaA! I tHoUgHt I wAs GoNnA fAll!”
    I am legitimately baffled.
    And a little creeped out.
    By this entire montage.
    There’s just something about it. The way Steve is like a dog. The way he was eating Pop-Tarts in bed earlier, like a weird super slob. The way he can’t dress himself.
    Like, I don’t know who was behind this montage.
    But apparently they think it’s cute when a hot man has a child’s brain?
    Extremely weird.
  • (58:00) Steve Trevor’s mind is blown by a train.
    Trains were invented in 1804, a full 110 years before World War I started.
    Please do your research, people.
  • Sidebar: So, at this point, I decided to just watch through the rest of the movie, because I thought, “Maybe the constant criticizing is making me enjoy the movie less.” That . . . was not true.
    I am going to pare down these criticisms now though, because I realized (as I always do with A Writer Watching) that I can’t be here all day.
  • (1:01:20) Having watched the movie through, I have to say that I really like the idea of Max Stone—a villain who is a living monkey’s paw—has potential, but the execution in WW84 is extremely messy.
    In this scene in particular, we’re meant to notice, at the end, that he’s experiencing abnormal headaches, but he asks for “my vitamins,” which implies that maybe these headaches are not abnormal (because if he’s taking vitamins so often that his secretary knows about them and where they are, maybe that means he experiences headaches and other minor health issues consistently, which he’s trying to correct with consistent vitamin use).
    The weird thing here is, all of this could’ve been solved with a longer pause and focus on his headache in this scene. Or an easy swap to “Bring me some aspirin.”
  • (1:09:53) The origin of Diana’s invisible jet is pre-e-e-etty bad. In part because it comes completely out of nowhere.
    This is another case of “Don’t Do This 101,” so I think most people know it, but pulling a Deus Ex Machina out of thin air is a bad, bad move. Always always set them up.
    But also, just gonna throw it out there that . . . there would’ve been countless situations where making something invisible would’ve been more useful to Diana. Especially considering that she’s been hiding her vigilante activity for sixty-six years.
  • (1:12:03) Steve and Diana fly through some fireworks.
    And it is literally just a string of pretty visuals to look at. Diana and Steve don’t fall more in love. They don’t use the fireworks as cover. If anything, this is slowing down the plot and making them more visible in their invisible jet.
    Seriously, I just call this “trailer fodder.”
    In case anyone has the wrong idea, please no–do not write moments like this in your stories unless it actually moves the plot forward.

~~~

And that is as far as I’m going today, because, unbelievably, this is half of my criticisms for WW84.

If you enjoyed, part 2 will be coming next Sunday.

Until then, take care, stay safe, and listen to some 80’s style synth. If you’ve somehow never heard it, I suggest “Blinding Lights” by the Weeknd. Bye!

Monster Showcase – The Orphan of Kos

If there’s one part of Fantasy writing that I’ve largely ignored on this site, it’s Fantasy monsters.

And, right out the gate, full disclosure: it’s because I have a hard time creating them.

In part, it’s because I turned off the “dragons are great” part of my brain ages ago. I have personally always written with the mantra “no old man wizards and no dragons.” Not because I think those things suck, but because I wanted to avoid using the tropes that came with them.

The thing is, that mantra was shorthand. What I really meant was, “No old man wizards, knights, kings, elves, dwarves, <deep breath> dragons, griffons, medusas, hydras, skeletons, zombies, wyrms, elementals–

And I’m just gonna stop there, because I grew up with JRPG’s and I’ve played a ton of D&D, so the list goes on.

Which means that when I put a monster into a WIP, I take wa-a-a-a-a-ay too long trying to make that monster unique. And, yeah, already a total nightmare.

But, on top of that, Fantasy monsters have never easily meshed with the bureaucratic side of my brain either. So even when I do create something I’ve never seen before, I then have to figure out why/how it exists.

Most of the time, that means my “monsters” are just weird animals that attack humans the same way a lion or a cassowary bird would (and if this is the first time you’ve ever heard of them, cassowaries are huge birds that are real and have giant claws on their feet, similar to a velociraptor; they look doofy, but do not fuck with them because they will murder you).

But sometimes, my monsters need to come from somewhere, so I engage in the insane practice of creating entire systems by which they exist. In my first book, for example, the monsters were all undead nightmares (the story was heavily inspired by Castlevania), so I had to invent a school of Necromancy that focused exclusively on making those monsters.

So yeah . . . A lot of work.

In the end though, all of this means that I spend way less time thinking about Fantasy monsters than I should. I want to rectify that. And I figured, “Hey. Why not do it on the site?”

So thank you for joining me for the very first installment of what I’m calling “Monster Showcase,” a series where I’ll be talking about a monster that I thought was really awesome from a book, game, movie, or TV show. I promise to never go typical with this (I’m always going to try to bring something genuinely weird and unique to the table), but there’s one in particular that’s going to be a nostalgia trip, so keep in mind that we may go deep into 80’s movies here at some point.

Anyway, for this first installment, we’re talking about . . .

The Orphan of Kos

Where It’s From: The Orphan of Kos is the final boss of the Old Hunters DLC for Bloodborne.

What It Is: It’s . . . <sigh>. I’m sorry. Bloodborne in particular has some bizarre fucking monsters, so this is tough. Apparently, the Orphan is the newborn child of a dead, Lovecraftian god. It is humanoid, skeletal, has giant flaps of skin hanging off of its back (which start floating behind it like wings in its second phase), and it’s holding its placenta, which it uses as a weapon.

“What the fuck?” Yeah. I heard you say that out loud, and I know–trust me, I’m right there with you.

To actually understand this thing though, you have to see how it moves and hear what it sounds like (nightmare fuel on both counts). Here’s a video from the Boss Fight Database on YouTube (the second phase, with the weird wings, starts at 2:41 [and here’s a convenience link to that as well]).

If you don’t have access to video, this thing alternates way too quickly between “hunched slow walk” to “leaping around the entire battlefield to slash at you.” Even though it’s bipedal, it attacks with the too-quick ferocity of a rabid dog . . . while gasping and crying out in an eerily human voice when you hit it.

Why It’s Worth Talking About: First, because it is just so fucking bizarre.

If you’ve never played Bloodborne, it is a master class in “What the fuck am I fighting?” Halfway through the game, I realized that I’d never win the metagame of trying to guess what the next boss would be.

But the Orphan really takes the cake.

Why is it humanoid?

Why is it so creepily thin?

What is that thing it’s holding? Oh–that’s its placenta. Great. Real cool.

And why those wings? For me, the wings are really what pushes the Orphan into “wait–what?” territory. Give me a gangly skeleton man, give him a placenta, and tell me he’s a Lovecraftian god’s baby, and I’m like, “Sure. I guess. Whatever.” But give that skeleton man gossamer wings and I’m like, “Fucking what?” Why did they make those wings silken? Why did they want them to look pretty as it screams, cries, and lunges at you from 20 feet away in a heartbeat?

It invites you to speculate on what the Orphan actually is–to draw the natural parallels to angels, sure, but to also question not only what the game’s “Great Ones” actually are, but why you’re fighting one of their children when you have no clue what they are.

And, beyond the crazy design of this monster, the Orphan’s ability to make you ask those questions is what really makes it worth talking about. Not just how cool or weird or creepy its design is . . . but how that design makes you feel.

Because a normal monster looks tough, scary, or intimidating, but the Orphan . . . makes you question yourself.

You find it on a beach as it’s being born. During the fight with it, it will sometimes scream–deeply and agonized–a signal that it’s doing a lightning attack. But that attack . . . comes from its mother’s corpse. It’s hard to be sure about anything when it comes to the orphan, but the implication seems to be that it’s sad about its mother. Maybe it doesn’t know what’s going on. Just a weird monster, born only a moment ago, attacking you with the only thing that it had close to hand–fighting you because you’re there and you’re aggressive.

And you, on the other side, totally unaware the Orphan was out here on this beach. At this point, you’re deep inside what NPC’s have called “a Nightmare”–what feels like an alternate pocket of reality where you’re living the past and walking across a twisted dreamscape.

So you, unsure what’s going on, fight the Orphan because it’s there and it’s aggressive.

From Software games usually don’t give you a happy ending, but killing the Orphan was particularly strange because it felt . . . like you were killing yourself somehow. Not in the uplifting sense that you were killing the dark, feral side of your human mind, but that you had become that part of your mind–that you had finally become a Beast, like so many NPC’s before you–and you were just slashing wildly at a mirror.

The Orphan of Kos is an interesting monster, because fighting it makes you the monster.

What I Learned from It: I was already aware of the idea that monsters are better if they come with their own little stories. If you want to design a small lizard, for example, you’ll get way better results if you think about what that lizard wants, how it eats, where it sleeps, etc. The same goes for violent, true monsters (I still differentiate “unique animals” and “true monsters” in my mind, which I guess I’ll talk about another time); a phantom possessing a suit of armor is way more interesting if you create the story for how the phantom got into that armor, why it picked that particular suit, what it intends to do, etc. And, when you’re done, both the lizard and the phantom will tell that story without words; a reader/viewer/player will see that the lizard is dirty and walks really slowly and infer it lives in the dirt and maybe has some kind of defense mechanism that makes it so chill.

But the Orphan makes it clear that those stories don’t have to always be internal. A monster’s design can affect a person beyond making them scared or creeping them out.

A monster can make you question yourself, and, at the very least, that’s something worth thinking about.

~~~

Phew. That wound up being longer than I expected. I hope you enjoyed! If you did, feel free to drop a like or a follow. I’m not sure when I’ll do another “Monster Showcase” (I play all of these posts by ear), but if you “Follow House of Error” via the button on the left side of the screen on PC or the top right on mobile, you’ll have my future posts emailed directly to your inbox.

Man, I really need to find a new name for this site. Whatever–that’s for me to figure out.

Until next time, take care, stay safe, and watch There Will Be Blood if you haven’t. That movie is amalzing . . . Also, Kim’s Convenience is really good. Okay–bye!

I’m Living for My Writing Group Right Now

I’ve always been wary of writing groups.

But not because of other people; it’s a me thing.

I am hyper-aware that I’m not the most amazing writer in the world, so I am a very intense self-editor (and have been for a while). It’s a habit I’ve mentioned on here before–my tendency to edit my work directly into the ground. To take it from ‘bonsai’ to ‘twig’ to (somehow) ‘Chia Pet.’ And I’m aware that’s not the perfect metaphor (my editing always yields net positives, but sometimes those positives are additions with new grammatical errors) but it absolutely nails the vibe.

Anyway, that need to edit comes in when I read other people’s work, and that’s why I try to stay away from collaborations these days. I have upset people with edits that were too intense. Also, a few times, someone has said, “Read this and give me thoughts,” and I’ve heard, “Read this and correct my grammar!”

Not . . . the best look.

So if you asked me in 2019 if I’d ever join a writing group, I would’ve said, “No. For their sake.”

But then, of course 2020 happened.

By September 2020, I was wildly strung out. Already 6 months deep in the lockdown hole, freshly unemployed, routinely losing sleep to my then-roommate’s obnoxiously loud kids while the election loomed in the distance, I was perpetually tired. Of just fucking everything.

So trust me when I say that the moment a longtime friend of mine invited me to join a writing group with him and his buddy from high school, I was like, “YESWHEN”.

Was a part of me still worried about being a needlessly intense critic of my friends’ work?

Yes.

Did I learn to curb that reflex out of pure, immediate necessity?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

And . . . I almost feel like I have to thank 2020, because if I hadn’t been backed into a corner, forced to accept an invitation I might not have . . . I would have missed one of the best experiences in the entirety of my time as a writer.

A Writing Group with Close Friends
Is So Positive It Feels Wrong

Like, you know when you try a new fat free ice cream and it tastes better than real ice cream, so you check the ingredients and it’s like, “Molasses, Soy Lecithin, and Kitten Souls,” and you’re like, “Ah. Right. Of course”?

My writing group feels like that, only without the Kitten Souls part. It is so good it just has to be wrong somehow. But 4 months deep, it still . . . isn’t?

I meet with my friends once a week over Zoom so we can discuss progress on our work, and–most importantly for me–take criticism. Each week, one of us gets in the hot seat and sends work for review, while the others make progress on their own work for their next session.

And, somehow, despite everything being set up for this to go poorly, it just hasn’t.

My friend, his buddy, and I are just naturally careful about our criticisms while also (thankfully) being totally candid with them.

In a recent session, one of them suggested that I significantly change the intro for Memory because it was a little cliché. And, mind you, this is an intro that is relatively new; I’d hammered it out in the middle of 2020 when I started the outline for my rewrite, so hearing that it needed another change threw me a little bit.

But the approach to that suggestion wasn’t invasive or hostile in any way; this was a point made by a friend of mine who wanted to challenge me to write a better prologue. So, instead of clamming up, I sat down and reflected. Not just on the fact that I usually struggle with intros, but on the merits of the suggested change. If it had been suggested to me a few years prior, I might have waved it aside and tried to rewrite the prologue in some other way.

But, in 2020, I took an afternoon to review themes, plotlines, and character beats and realized . . . Yeah. That additional tweak to the prologue would just . . . work. Really well.

And, just like when I found Brandon Sanderson’s “Writing Science Fiction & Fantasy Classes” on YouTube, the realization that I could just have help really took me by surprise. A healthy writing group is something I didn’t realize I needed, but also something I stubbornly thought was impossible. Growing up in America makes me keep blinking like, “Wait. I’m supposed to pay for this somewhere, right?” Like one of my friends is going to copy and paste an invoice for $700 to the Zoom chat. Seriously, this is supposed to be, like, $80 an hour, or I’m supposed to go to a convention or win a contest to get this kind of constructive criticism.

But, no. I can just have this–all of us can.

My writing group is just real. None of us pull punches; from the very first session, they’ve been totally honest about the parts of my WIP they didn’t like, which is its own miracle. But on top of that, none of us are taking ownership of each other’s work, expecting the others to implement whatever changes we suggest. None of us think we’re better than the others. And none of us reject every single criticism we get, refusing to entertain change and growth.

It is . . . so healthy.

And extremely exciting. I drastically improved Memory over the Summer, and now I have two friends taking a close look at my outline and helping me improve it even more, and just holy shit.

Having a Writing Group with Your Close Writer Friends
Is the Best Thing Ever and Every Writer Should Do It

I can’t recommend joining a random writer’s group, because it is still impossible for me to believe that experience wouldn’t be problematic.

But if you have close friends who are writers working in the same genre . . .

DO IT!

As long as all of you understand how to be chill about it–how not to tear down each other’s work or demand that they start writing in your style. Read their works-in-progress, make suggestions that improve them, express your feelings about them in a way that isn’t needlessly harsh. Strike that balance of being open to changing your stories, but secure in the knowledge that if you don’t think a suggestion yields improvements, you don’t have to implement it.

And, okay, I kind of went on a rant there, but I didn’t write all of this just to gush. What I’m trying to say is writing sucks. It’s extremely rough and, in my experience, there are a ton of people waiting to take advantage of you. We are professionals who spend years working on singular pieces of art that we send to publishers and contests, hoping to get paid for a fraction of the time we put in. I know that you know, but just in case you haven’t thought about it in a while, writing is an insane, extremely unforgiving profession.

We deserve every bit of help we can get.

~~~

Thank you for passing by. Can you believe it’s only the second week of 2021? As an American, I . . . am . . . already reeling this year.

But whatever. I hope you’re doing well, wherever you are. If you enjoyed this post, please drop me a like or consider following The House of Error via the button on the left side of the screen (on PC) or the top right (on mobile).

Either way, take care, and if you come within petting range of an adorable, friendly cat or dog this week, please give them a pat for me.

Writer’s Workshop – A House on Gravel (& Some Much-Needed Venting)

The house looked like it was falling apart. A squat, thin rectangle of wood slowly dipping toward the gravel, but never quite making it. Not because it refused to go down, but because giving in would be too much work for it. “Ugh. I’m just gonna stay just like this,” it might sigh, and I, slow blinking as I looked at it, would nod and say, “I get it.”

“It looks terrible on the outside, but inside it’s really nice,” my friend said. He wasn’t wrong; the room he wanted to rent to me was particularly nice–larger than any of the rooms in my current apartment, especially after I came out of my room on December 21st to find the superintendent splitting the living room into two more bedrooms. Apparently, my old roommates, having moved on to a house, went full-on “money-hungry assholes”; they’re cramming as many people as possible into this tiny apartment. Because of course.

Which is why I was in Connecticut in the first place. I was really, really hoping to make a quick move to avoid whatever eight additional people my old roommates were going to wedge into their old apartment.

But then, there was the house perpetually tipping. And their bathroom with literal shit caked on the toilet. And the town itself, where we grabbed dinner and I was warned to quiet down because I was making fun of flat earthers and apparently there was a 90% chance one of the old white people watching me at that restaurant was a flat earther.

I was so hopeful that it would work out. And if I was a different person, it definitely would’ve.

But, as I am now, I couldn’t help looking at that tired house and nodding.

“Better to just stay like this.”

#

It’s been a while since I’ve done a “Writer’s Workshop,” and this is one I needed to do.

Because I really needed to vent.

After my last post, shit fell apart pretty quickly. The super was here almost the entire time, using power tools and leaving piles of empty Coors Light cans fucking everywhere.

I’ve still stayed productive, and it’s probably for the best that I didn’t have a totally chill, calm holiday because I would’ve become complacent. As is, I’m actively going out, trying to find somewhere else to live while hoping that, in the meantime, my new roommates won’t be loud monsters.

So far so good–I met one of those roommates, who came in while I was eating dinner last night. An old black man who was wearing a mask and–thankfully–was not down to shake hands or stop and chat. The nightmare for me is the party dude who comes cartwheeling in without a mask and asks what I’m cooking, so an old man saying hi and going to his room to tend to his own business is exactly the kind of roommate I want.

Fingers crossed for the rest of them.

And fingers crossed about any of the jobs I’ve been applying to. This week, I delve into the bizarre realm of freelance work, temporarily sidelined by packing up when I hoped I was moving to Connecticut. With any luck, I’ll have a good enough first week to feel secure leaning into it.

Because the dream is not having to strap in. I don’t want to be here a few more months.

But if the first few weeks of the Year of Endings are any indication, this is going to be a non-stop struggle.

Because of course.

~~~

Thanks for passing by. I’m definitely going back to the usual content next week, but I just got back from CT yesterday and needed to vent.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to gush about my writing group next week, because I’ve wanted to talk about them for a while–how two close friends have kept me going for months now and how they’re helping me make Memory awesome–so expect that next Sunday.

Until then, thank you for passing by, and I hope you have a Happy National Spaghetti Day! And no, I’m not making that up. The 4th is also National Trivia Day, but not on this fucking blog. Get yer spaghet, erbody!

An Actual Christmas Miracle

I do not know where to start explaining how weird the last two weeks have been.

I guess I’ll start chronologically. Two weeks ago, I talked about how I was going to get into graphic design. That, like most things, is going to take significantly longer than I thought; I’m still building a portfolio and setting up accounts on different sites, but those efforts got hit pretty quickly by real life bullshit.

I usually don’t give details on this kind of stuff, but I had a really bad panic attack in public last week. And—this is not a joke—it was actually because of my roommate’s daughter being on her cell phone. And let me just explain what that even means.

I’ve never talked about it on here, but a major deterrent to my creative efforts in the past few months has been my roommate’s daughter talking on her phone. And, because that probably sounds like an exaggeration, just imagine the following:

  1. Imagine the most annoying person you’ve ever heard on a phone. Unreasonably loud, even when speaking. Maybe yelling their friends’ names and actually cackling when they laugh. If you’re imagining a comedian doing an intentionally over-the-top impersonation of someone drunkenly shout-laughing, I promise that you’re in the ball park.
  2. Imagine that this person . . . is your roommate’s/landlord’s daughter.
  3. Imagine that, a few months into the pandemic, she decides that, in the apartment you share with her and her family, the best place for her to take her online courses is on the couch that is seven feet across from your bedroom door.
  4. Imagine that your roommate’s/landlord’s daughter just tells her teacher something’s wrong with her camera, mutes herself on Zoom, and then calls her friends, laughing over her school lessons. Maybe she puts on music, but whatever she does, she’s always yelling. Sometimes, she’s yelling for her mom to get her food, even though the kitchen is 10 feet away from her couch. Sometimes, she’s yelling for her brother, who’s at the far end of the apartment, to come answer the front door, which is right next to her couch. Usually though, she’s yelling because her friends just said something so funny it requires another insane cackle, just like the one from two minutes ago.
  5. And, finally (and this is the most important part), imagine that this happens Monday through Friday, from (on average) 9am to 5pm.

TL;DR: Imagine having to listen to the most annoying person you’ve ever heard on the phone for (again, on average) eight fucking hours, five days a week.

For months, I just tried to shrug it off. But when someone is screaming so loudly that I could hear her through (I shit you not) earplugs and headphones, with music/videos at max volume through those headphones, it’s just torture. Like, no matter how cool you think you’d be with it, it’s actually a torture technique they used at Guantanamo.

I asked this girl, very early on, to please keep her volume down.

The next week, she was back on that couch.

I was worried about talking to her mom because, with COVID, I was already expecting the dreaded, “You have to move out.” Not because I loved being in this apartment, but because I’d lost my job and the only place I could go was back with my mom, who has always had issues with her lungs. So, rather than complaining to my landlord (who was always present and knew it was happening anyway), I just grinned, bared it, and developed a really terrible schedule (where I tried to stay up as late as possible to work while everyone was asleep, and then sleep in as close to 5pm as I could [which never worked because she would usually wake me up bright and early at 9am anyway]).

All of this came to a head last week, when I had that panic attack.

Now, I’m not a person who has panic attacks. I struggle with depression, so I’m used to lying in bed, staring at a window, doing nothing and feeling hopeless. Panic attacks are a very, very different experience.

On that day (and I don’t even remember which day—maybe Wednesday), I was at a supermarket, looking at the wall of budget cereal brands they have here in the Bronx. I’d already been woken up early (after staying up until 4am the previous night working on a logo), so I was exhausted.

And I just looked at that wall of cereal, considered which one to buy, thought, “I’ve had them all and I don’t like any of them, but I have to pick one,” and my brain just shot me forward in time, to when I’d be sitting at my desk, in my room, eating cereal I hated while listening to that girl on her phone . . .

. . . and I just started crying.

Not bawling or sobbing. Not even obvious. The emotion hit me, I took a breath, thought, “Fuck, am I actually about to cry?” and then started hyperventilating while walking around that supermarket, looking for the stuff I was supposed to buy.

Just, overall, real bad time.

I got upstairs, actually cried in my room (yes, while the girl was yelling to her friends in the background), and then, finally acknowledging that I just could not listen to more cackling, I knocked on her mom’s door.

And this is where the miracle part starts, but not the entirety of said miracle.

Turns out her mom also totally hated her being on the phone all the time.

Thank . . . God.

She and her husband were going to talk to her daughter when he got home, and finally . . . my long-standing, surprisingly effective, literal torture was over.

I’m absolutely sure that I created a super villain (because the daughter went into her room and didn’t make noise or come out for the rest of the night, but it is impossible for me to care.

Because when I got back to my room, dead silence. Total and complete.

I went to sleep, woke up, wrote, and worked more on that logo. Basically, I lived. And it was amazing.

The next few days, I was just in recovery mode. Didn’t try to be especially productive, but I did finish a logo for the portfolio and got a good amount of writing done.

Cut to this week . . . which started with what I can only call a family meeting.

My landlord/roommate was there. Her husband, son, and daughter were as well.

I was totally expecting the worst.

And they told me . . . they were moving.

And this part is the miracle part.

Because I have not been kicked out; for whatever reason, they aren’t breaking their lease.

They’re just letting me live here–by myself–for the same amount of rent I’ve been paying. They are going to find a roommate for me . . .

. . . but right now, I live in this apartment by myself.

And just . . . I’ve never mentioned it on this site, but I’ve never lived anywhere by myself, and that’s been a dream of mine for years. My major resolution for this upcoming year was “Get that apartment.”

So this, for me, is a Christmas miracle. Having an apartment all to myself for Christmas is just . . . it’s probably silly, but I can’t express how much it means to me. The freedom alone—the sense that I can go to sleep, shower, wake up, cook, write whenever I want is almost too much.

It is such a crazy blessing.

And a ridiculous boon to everything in life.

Like, if anyone ever tells you that it isn’t any easier to finish working on a project in a quiet apartment, that is an absolute lie. I’ve been blissfully cooking actual food and taking longer than necessary “freedom” visits to the bathroom, but I’ve also legit been pissed imagining how much further along I could’ve been in my writing career if I’d always had a quiet place to work.

But, whatever—I don’t want to get hung up on that.

The point is, I am currently living in a miracle (especially in New York). It is wildly temporary (I’m assuming I have a week before shit goes to hell), but I am just taking it. This Christmas is just mine.

And I’m not just going to use it to make coquito and take longer-than-necessary showers.

I’m going to fucking finish my outline for Memory, start writing that novel, apply for jobs, open my freelance design profile, and get as much done as I possibly can.

I’m going to use it to live the life I want if only for a week or two.

But, most importantly—and this is going to come out of nowhere, but—I’m going to use it to start the year I’ve been dreaming of since forever.

I’ve fantasized about it for a while, and in those fantasies, it’s been the year when I finish Memory, stop living with roommates, stop worrying about work. The year when I stop feeling stuck.

I’ve always thought of it as “The Year of Endings.”

And it begins right now.

~~~

I know this one is a little weird, but I’m actually happy for the first time in a long time, so forgive me.

I am taking next week off because I want to get as much done as I possibly can in this coming week. But I’ll definitely be back in January to kick off my Year of Endings.

I hope all of you have an awesome holiday. Stay safe, text someone you love and tell them you love them, and most importantly, if you didn’t know, Tofurky sausages taste, like, 500% better when you can actually fucking cook them. Fire is awesome, shoutout to my boy Prometheus, I love y’all, and happy holidays!

Had a Long Week / Taking a Break

Hey, everyone.

This’ll be an extremely short one. I just wanted to come on here and say I’m taking a mental health day today. This week wound up being a total mess. Not a mess related to the graphic design aspirations, although that isn’t exactly going smoothly.

I will absolutely be back next week with an actual post and news, but today, I just need to relax and not do anything.

And, in that spirit, I am off to just melt into my bed for a while before I have to reconstitute tomorrow morning.

I hope all of you are doing well. Take care, stay safe, and remember: the vaccine is real and it’s finally coming. At some point soon, we’ll be able to go outside, sit on park benches, take off our masks without worrying, and eat our Gordita Crunchwraps in peace.

Full Disclosure: I’m Trying to Get Into Font Design, but It’s Making Freelance Graphic Design Look Easy, So I’m Doing That Too

A few weeks back, I dropped a hint that I was working on making digital products as a way to earn money while looking for a new job during the pandemic.

But also, in classic-me fashion, when I talked about all of this, I added that I’d be releasing that product “this weekend.”

I’ve since discovered that font design is incredibly rough, and every attempt I’ve made at finishing a font has somehow led to more problems.

Because, look, here’s the thing: I’m a perfectionist. It is incredibly hard for me to release something before I feel like it’s perfect (a reflex that I’m 100% aware has slowed down my writing progress, and thus a reflex I’m trying to tamp down). Even when it comes to writing posts on this site, I usually write them the day before I release them, so I can go over them multiple times to “line edit.” But that always turns into me making content edits for clarity and flow until I hit a deadline and have to click “Publish” (usually with more errors that I then have to fix in post).

What I’m getting at: I’m definitely a perfectionist to a massive fault.

And font design wound up being a pit for me to drown in.

The actual design work of font making? Absolutely no problem. That’s the annoying part of this; I wound up working out a system by which I could turn out a new font, with sketching and glyph design on my computer, in 2-3 days. I have graphic design experience, so, even learning Inkscape so I could put together glyph sets for free = no problem. Not even the idea part was difficult for me:

My first font, Astronav, was designed to be the staple font of a fictional space colony; the stencil over the doors on their starships, leading to “FTL Control,” “Specimen Containment,” “Astronav,” etc.

The programing side of font making, however? Total nightmare. I tried the three programs I could afford (free, free, and $10). The two free ones would not accept the glyphs I made in Inkscape for some reason, and although the third, Birdfont, did accept the glyphs (to the extent that I have Astronav and Astronav Light just sitting there, finished and ready to go), it did not export them correctly. Additional issues, like the way the font displays em dashes and bullets, just make the whole experience an absolute nightmare (because I can’t just try solutions, find one that seems to work, and ship it–I’m the kind of person who needs to understand the problem and know that a solution will work for everyone, always). However, font design is still growing in popularity, so the resources available to spell out the problem with my version of Birdfont on my version of Windows just isn’t there. I’m sure there are solutions; I’m going to keep looking for them, and this definitely isn’t to say Birdfont is a bad program–I love it.

This is just to say, if you’ve been here for a while and you remember me saying I was working on a thing that never happened, this is why.

But look, okay, I’m not here to just vent (although it’s nice).

I’m actually here to do something a bit weird.

Wordmark Practice

Like I said, the designing part was fine. But it was also . . . good practice.

Learning Inkscape and designing fonts made designing wordmark titles for my friends’ works in progress an absolute breeze.

So, that’s what I’m shifting my efforts to for the immediate future: wordmark logos. I timed myself on one this weekend, and it’s taken a cumulative 5 hours to get it close to complete.

But I need more practice.

So, I am asking for your help.

Not monetary help; I still feel weird asking for donations, so I’m not doing that.

However, if you have a WIP that you’d like a wordmark logo for, email me. No charge, one logo per person, with the following understandings:

  1. If you’re not familiar, a wordmark logo is a logo made of text, so basically any title. I do custom glyphs (letters), meaning you won’t have to worry about having font licenses for the title, because I won’t be using a pre-existing font. However, while I can do very light additional graphics, something like the title for Grounded, with the silhouette of a character in the “N,” is just honestly outside of my current skill set.
  2. I would provide you with both a PNG and SVG of the finished logo that you can do absolutely whatever you want with. I’m not expecting payment or for you to use it and shout me out (although if you get published and convince the publisher to use that wordmark, please shout me out, because that would be awesome). But if you’re asking yourself, “Well, what does he want in return?” the answer is . . .
  3. Practice and an item for my portfolio. To be clear, I would use a watermarked version of the logo for my portfolio, which I would post on this site, art display sites like Behance, and freelancing sites like Upwork, so I can start getting freelance graphic design work.
  4. I have no idea how many replies I’ll get, because I have never, ever done a giveaway before (which this technically is I guess?), but I will probably cut off the replies at five, because I don’t think I’ll be able to manage more than five in the next week. But also, once again, only one logo per person for the same reason.

If you’re down, send me an email at l.santiago.author@gmail.com. In your email, please include:

  1. The title of your WIP.
  2. The tone you’re going for with that WIP, overall.
  3. And–only if you feel comfortable sharing it–a brief summary of an important moment in the story (I often take inspiration from story elements when I design their titles).

This is kind of crazy for me because this site has been around for 12 years and I’ve never done something like this, but hey, it’s also exciting. And after 9 months of being stuck in the same room, I’ll take “exciting” any way I can get it.

~~~

Thanks for passing by for what is admittedly a very weird post on this site. If you enjoyed and/or want to find out how this facet of my unemployment goes, please feel free to give me a follow.

But, either way, take care, and have a happy Put On Your Own Shoes Day!

Let’s Talk About – The Anatomy of a Good Crew

A while back, I was talking with a friend and fellow writer about a future project. While describing it, I called it a “Team story,” and then squinted.

“Is there a better word for that? Like, a story where your characters are one team?”

And I don’t remember if I stopped trying to explain or she cut me off, but she answered, “An ensemble cast. You’re talking about an ensemble cast.”

And I remember thinking, “Is that what I’m talking about?” In the moment I was just like, “Sure,” but I kept thinking about it for a while because, in typical bureaucrat fashion, I wanted to find the perfect heading to sort my ideas under and I knew it wasn’t “ensemble cast.”

Because Game of Thrones has an ensemble cast, but it is not a story about a united team.

Something like Friends, however, does star an ensemble cast while also presenting those characters as one, cohesive unit for the audience to love.

And it’s the latter part–the team part–that I was trying to get at. I now have two future projects that are going to require a balanced team with interesting dynamics, and because my life this week has been steeped in Star Wars, I’ve been thinking a lot about highly dynamic, synergetic teams.

Or–as I have ultimately, lazily classified them in my head–crews.

So let’s talk about them.

Not whether they’re good or bad, but just what I’m learning from looking at / remembering a few standout examples.

What I’ve Learned About Crews (So Far)

If ever there was a franchise that lived off of it’s crews, it’s Star Wars.

Seriously, part of the reason The Mandalorian feels so fresh is because it’s the only popular Star Wars story that doesn’t have a crew.

Anyway, let’s get into it:

  1. Smaller crews feel clean, and give everyone time to shine, but large crews are totally possible if you make them super charming. By my count, there were 8-9 people on the Serenity, but Joss Whedon made all of them super lovable and interesting anyway, in part by all of them unique Specializations and Plot Functions.
  2. Every member of a crew needs to have a Specialization (pilot, mechanic, fighter, lockpicker, etc.) but they also need to serve a Plot Function (comic relief, responsibility anchor, protagonist).
  3. Specializations vary depending on what you’re writing, but when it comes to Plot Functions, memorable crews usually seem to have the following:
    1. A Protagonist who usually has to learn to become good at their Specialization or learn a different skill entirely. Luke and Aang are prime examples of protagonists learning Specializations as parts of their arcs. On the other hand, Peter Quill from Guardians of the Galaxy doesn’t learn anything–he’s just good at a handful of things and has emotional arcs instead.
    2. A Responsibility Anchor who steps in to keep the plot moving in the right direction. Princess Leia and Gamora are really popular standouts, but Kanan Jarrus from Star Wars: Rebels and Cere Junda from *deep breath* Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order are the two I experienced the most this week.
    3. A Romantic Interest. Not gonna go in-depth here.
    4. Comic Relief. Also not gonna go in-depth here. But I will point out that there’s almost always more than one comic relief in a good crew.
    5. The Muscle. The usually gentle, often giant who’s going to crack their knuckles and walk into a bunch of enemies and come back fine. Familiar examples are Chewie and Groot. Significantly different examples are Toph Beifong from Avatar, River Tam from Firefly, and Nightsister Merrin from Fallen Order who, and this is true, is my waifu. I am a grown man who never once said anyone anywhere was his waifu because I didn’t get it, but now I get it.
    6. A Scrappy Person. This is a weird one, but there’s often a person who’s . . . bad at fighting even though they want to be good at it? Or who often need saving. Classic example, even though it doesn’t seem like it at first: Han. Yes, he will chase Stormtroopers down a hallway, firing his blaster, but he’ll be back in 3 seconds, running from a hangarful of them. Sokka is another example.
    7. Someone who doesn’t speak Common or who is hard to understand for some other reason. I know this is weird, but it’s real. It’s obviously nonessential, but you can put in characters who don’t speak Common. They’ll just need another character to answer all of their questions in Common, thus translating, and they’ll need to emote well. And I have to take a moment here to remind everyone that the crew of the Millennium Falcon has two–fucking two–characters audiences love even though they can’t understand anything they’re saying. To this day, that blows my mind. Aside from R2 and Chewie, Groot is one of my favorites.
    8. The heart of the team–an Emotional Anchor. Someone caring to keep the team together by helping them solve differences, the single greatest example of which is Steven from Steven Universe.
    9. And finally, a cute companion! Also obviously nonessential, but so adorable when they’re done right. Like Appa! And I would say BB-8 if he wasn’t attached to a series of films that wound up being one of the most disappointing trilogies of all time.
  4. As you’ve probably noticed, those nine Functions are not limited to one character each, or even one per crew. Your Protagonist might also be the Scrappy Person, like Ezra Bridger from Rebels. Your muscle might not speak Common, like Groot. You might, like Guardians, have three separate characters who could all count as the Muscle. Making that composition–and playing with it–is one of the major parts of making a crew.
  5. But the other major part is making sure that your composition has characters who all feel unique from each other but also have good chemistry. They should have different, maybe even conflicting personalities, but they also need to be able to engage with each other in a way that’s entertaining. If two of your characters are stuck in the same room together and you can’t write an interesting or fun scene with them, something’s wrong.

Two Crews That Didn’t Work for Me

I’m still trying to be more positive on here, but I do have to point out the two crews I didn’t find interesting (and explain why).

The crew of the Ghost on Star Wars: Rebels.

I watched 6 or 7 episodes of Rebels while working on my computer, and I ultimately wasn’t hooked for a few reasons. The reason related to this post: the crew was split into two extremes.

On one hand, you had Ezra, Zeb, and Chopper who were always bickering and playing pranks on each other.

On the other hand, you had Hera, Sabine, and Kanan who were all super capable and professional.

I’m sure the show gets better, but the team chemistry just wasn’t there. Everyone had good Specializations, their Plot Functions were super clear, and they all looked unique from each other, but they all felt like they were sharing two personalities, so I ultimately had to bail.

The crew of the Mantis in Jedi: Fallen Order.

Now, I’m ending here with a crew most people haven’t experienced because it comes with a lesson.

Pictured above is the entire crew. From left to right, it’s BD-1, a little droid who specializes as the hacker and can’t speak Common. Next is Greez, the pilot and comic relief. Then there’s Cere Junda, the Designated Plot-Driver and secondary hacker. Cal is our redheaded Protagonist. And last is Nightsister Merrin, who’s arguably the Muscle (because Cal would be, but she’s a space witch who saves his life a ton) and is also, believe it or not from this picture, more Comic Relief.

So what’s the lesson here?

Never have one member of the crew join super late in the story.

Nightsister Merrin doesn’t join the Mantis until insanely late in the game. Seriously, she joined my crew last night, after, like, 20 hours of playtime. Which is bizarre because . . .

. . . this crew is not complete without her.

This is not a waifu joke; seriously, dialogue in the Mantis was so boring before she joined.

For 20+ hours, cutscenes with the crew were extremely one-note. Cal was goal-oriented, Cere was goal-oriented, BD-1 was goal-oriented, and Greez, while charming, just followed orders and complained. Very quickly, everyone believed in and supported each other, so there was just nothing to look forward to in their interactions. Even a mid-game semi-twist with Cere didn’t throw off the “we have to keep fighting for what’s right” vibe.

After Merrin, dialogue is likely to take a weird turn when she asks things like, “What Empire?” because she grew up on Dathomir and has no idea the First Galactic Empire even exists. When Cere asks her about her magic, Greez might compare it to the time he ate a huge steak to win a prize, and Merrin might say–against all odds and in perfect, non-combative monotone, “Yes. My magic is exactly like eating steak.”

And just . . . h’oh my God! They have chemistry now! How? How did the one extra character make the most boring crew ever so much fun? I want to actually listen to their dialogue now. And even though I assumed the crew of the Mantis was a safe, corporate decision for 20+ hours, I now feel like I’m playing the main writer’s head canon crew that they’ve been nursing since Revenge of the Sith. And I actually want a sequel for this game I never thought I’d like (which, btw, if you haven’t played Fallen Order and you’re looking for a decent Souls-like, it’s way better than it has any right to be [just put it on max difficulty and prepare to die]).

But, look, whatever. I’m sure I’ll turn on that game in a little bit and Merrin will immediately peace out or Cal will die, but the lesson I took from that experience (aside from never ever bury one of your crew members at the end of your story–why would you ever do that???) is this: there is a very fine line between an incredibly boring crew and a super fantastic one. You can be off by just one character.

There is no formula here–at least not one that I’m aware of. You can play fast and loose with your character’s Specializations and Functions, and you should to make sure they, as a whole, are unique.

But, the worst thing you can do with your crew is make them boring. And you make them boring by making their interactions uninteresting.

As always, I have to add the extra disclaimer that I am just a man, not a professional. I don’t know the ins and outs of making a compelling team of characters.

But hey, it can’t hurt to talk about it.

~~~

Apologies for getting this one out late, but I was working through my observations as I wrote them here.

If you enjoyed, you can always feel free to drop me a like or follow.

But either way, it’s 4AM and I need to go pass out.

Take care, and, always be secure in the fact that if you’ve already eaten one cookie, a second cookie will not kill you. Goodnight!