Saturday, August 30, 2014

Committment and Co-Authoring


I am famous for not following through with the millions of projects that I start (as you can probably tell by the fact that I haven’t posted in so long). It is not something I am proud of, but rather something I have been working on fixing.

One of the most frustrating experiences I can imagine is trying to write a book. Fun, yes – exhilarating at times. But often frustrating. The reason is that writing a book represents a huge commitment. Authors have to push through each and every chapter no matter how good their writing is, because if it is not complete, it won’t sell. A story without an ending is not a story.

All but a couple of my stories do not have endings. They start well, they have good parts and bad parts, but they don’t end, they just fade away. As I read my old material, I can see myself behind the words, growing more and more exhausted, getting bored of a great story.

In the past, I haven’t tried to find a solution to the problem, I have simply kept writing half-stories. Recently, though, I learned that a good friend of mine is also a writer, and so we both decided to do something a little different. We decided to co-author a novel. It has been a huge help. Now I’m tied to the story, I have made a commitment, and not just one to myself.
 
(Check out my awesome cover :D) 
 


That being said, not everything is hunky-dory. Putting two teens together and telling them to write a complete, intricate, and believable story (which involves agreeing on everything - literally!) is not an easy task. It is more like a psychological lab experiment. For the most part, we have kept the peace, but there have been disagreements here and there that divide us. And DIVISION IS NOT GOOD. I am constantly paranoid that she will lose interest or disagree with one of my ideas so fundamentally that she refuses to help anymore. She is my lifeline for this project – a lifeline with its own will and opinions and ego. The same thing goes for me. Sometimes I don’t even trust myself to do my fair share (but maybe that’s a good thing – it persuades me to work more and to have better ideas).

The point is, writing a book is already a complex process. Throwing feelings and chemistry and communication into the mix brings it to a whole new level of difficulty. If your biggest struggle as a writer is perseverance, you may benefit from partnering up; however, if you have a hard time keeping your temper under control or you have an ego thing where you only like your own ideas (I wouldn’t blame you), then maybe your best option is to walk the path alone.
 
QUESTION: What do you think about co-authoring? Would you ever try it?

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Time

One of the most frustrating things in life is the hopeless, infinite lack of time. We can never have enough for all the things that count: the HUGE bucket lists AND prominent careers (or school)  AND happy, picturesque families AND hobbies, and, and, and... We want to do everything, but in those moments when we feel overwhelmed, we want to sit back, relax, drink hot chocolate, waste time into oblivion, think of the here and now. Occasionally, when we are able to make time for everything, we have fun - we love it! - and then it ends. Looking back, the time is gone, and it may as well have never happened, because we can never experience it again.

In school, we hear about the geological time scale, the biography of Earth (what, some four-billion years long?) and yet, here we are, and those four-billion years can never be reclaimed. Then we go to anatomy to learn about our frail bodies, then on to biology to learn how our dead corpses will be welcomed back into the elements as we decompose in our graves. Then on to history, to reminisce about the billions of lives that have come before ours, shining like flares, only to be extinguished by time.

Our mortal lives are over in the blink of an eye. It's painfully simple and true.

Now, whether or not you believe in an afterlife is immaterial. It still stands that the most should be made of one's life on Earth.

Like YOLO, except not really.

The above acronym is widely misconstrued and used by idiots to justify stupid behavior (Pardon the aggression).

Ex1 "YOLO, dude, just smoke the ---- cigarette."

Ex2 "Just jump! C'mon, YOLO - it's not that high!"

Ex3 "Look, it's Friday, tomorrow's another thing, and, you know what? ---- it. YOLO."

Sigh... If the concept of YOLO were used with any sense at all, people would be saying things like:
  • "Quit spending time on inappropriate websites, there are way better things to do."
  • "Spend a little more time with your baby brother while he's still young."
  • "Why the heck are you cutting your life short with drugs?"
Stupid behavior aside, there is still the problem of having two good options and not knowing which to choose. This is my biggest struggle, personally. Do I get a head start on that research paper, or spend some time practicing my writing? Both are good (equally so, in my opinion - not even school trumps developing one's personal talents). Both present their own set of pros and cons.

Many people have different ways of handling these problems. Some break their time down into micro-chunks, do a little bit of this, a little bit of that. They like to feel like they've tended to each facet of their lives every day. Others will set a priority and shut everything else out indefinitely. I would not recommend this while you are young because youth is perfect for exploring different opportunities and interests. Finally, people like me will "phase."

Phasing is why I haven't posted in a couple weeks. It involves spending long periods of time focusing on one hobby or interest, and then moving on to something else. This works especially well for me because my two major hobbies - writing and computer programming - are both very time-consuming. Phasing allows me to complete whole projects before I get distracted by other things.

During the month of February, my "project" was this blog. I spent most of my free time reading (to improve my craft) and writing posts. Then, during March, my interest dwindled, and that's how I knew it was time for something fresh. My "project" for March was improving my coding skills, which involved a lot of online reading, coding practice, and the purchasing of textbooks through Amazon. These were the types of things I did:


Above is a terrain-generator I created using a program called XNA. This could be used in building custom terrain for a 3D video-game.



This is a nostalgic Mario-style level editor I built from scratch, which I have called TILT 2D (short for "Tile It")



A turn-based, 2D shooter that allows players to fire rockets back and forth at each other (with randomly-generated hills and terrain that can be blown up! #geekpride :D)

 
The most complex of all - a 3D flight-game where the player shoots balloon-targets (the result of a fun online tutorial).
 
I also bought two (heavy) books by Ian Millington: Game Physics Engine Development and Artificial Intelligence for Games, and have spent a "ridiculously large portion" of my free time in the last week delving into their murky, mathematical depths ("my mother" par. everyparagraph).
 
This time-management strategy works for me because I get bored of everything, even the things I love, so switching back and forth keeps me from "burning out" in either of my major hobbies. It also feeds my hunger for progress. Every project that I accomplish reassures me that my reservoirs of time and passion aren't being sapped for nothing.
 
So, I'm curious: how do you juggle all the pieces of your life?
 
 


Thursday, March 13, 2014

Update - A Letter to Orson Scott Card

Good news! My dad contacted a guy from church, who contacted Aaron Johnston (Card's co-author), and he said that he would be delighted to answer my questions! (click here for original post)

So here's the new plan: I reformat the e-mail to address Johnston, send it off, wait for a reply, and, when it comes, follow up with a thank-you note and politely ask him if he would be willing to pass it on to "Scott," as they call him. If all goes well, I will have collected TWO responses from different successful authors!

Crossing my fingers...

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Do Highly-Logical Activities Impair Creativity?

 
This is a question I've had for a while. When a person frequently participates in a highly-logical activity (such as computer programming or Sudoku), does that strengthen or weaken their ability to think creatively?
 
**DISCLAIMER - I don't know much about psychology, so if there's a simple answer, please leave me a note in the comments.
 
I am a computer programmer. In fact, aside from writing, it's really the only major thing I spend my free-time doing. I just love the way it challenges me to break down problems, analyze the components, and put all the little pieces back together in a cohesive, efficient manner. But I also feel like a robot, doing the same calculations over and over and over and over in slightly different contexts. And when I sit down to write after working on my 2D-Shooter, it feels like the only things coming to mind are a bunch of stereotypes. The same ones, over and over and over.
 
That's normal, right? It seems like most writers have trouble with stereotypes, regardless of their favorite pass-times. I have no frame of reference, though. There's no way for me to get inside your head, see what it's like to write from your perspective, and compare to see who has the hardest time. The result is that I have no idea how close I am to meeting my creative potential. It’s maddening, actually.
 
But then there’s the possibility that spending equal times using both hemispheres of the brain (yes, I know neuroscientists have disproved the whole left/right brain thing) can actually greaten one’s creative power. Prominent historical figures like Da Vinci, who were known for both scientific and artistic contributions, seem to be concrete examples of this.

So the question really comes down to: do “left” and “right-brained” activities counteract one another, or are they additive? Was Da Vinci just a prodigy, or did his practice of art and science strengthen him as a whole?
I’m curious to hear what you think!

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Sensitive Subjects in Fiction


Even if you have never written anything on a particularly sensitive topic, you probably have read articles online or in magazines about them. To name a few that are popular in today’s world:

-          Health care
-          Abortion
-          Gay Rights

My goodness. Facebook has become a battle-ground for those debating how society should treat homosexuality. Say the word and you will most likely offend the entire human race for some reason or another.

I get so angry after seeing countless page-long posts, both at the offenders and the offended. To the offenders: you have a valid opinion, but posting it on Facebook is not going to do SQUAT. Find a more productive outlet. To the offended: “He who takes offense when no offense is intended is a fool, and he who takes offense when offense is intended is a greater fool” (Brigham Young).

But that’s not exactly what I want to talk about. It’s already been done to death on every culture-blogging site in the universe.

I’m wondering about a similar issue: controversial material in fictional stories. My question is, should authors adopt the mantra “Go Bold or Go Home,” or should they omit touchy material and try for an alternate subject?

For some, this may not be an option. Their stories may be set during the Holocaust (The Book Thief) or address the murder of innocent children (The Hunger Games). For others, it may be possible to leave out grey-area components and focus more on their characters because the two are mostly independent of one another.

I’d say there are a few factors to consider when deciding what to do:

-          Audience. You probably wouldn’t write a story portraying an evil Nazi as the protagonist and market the book to Jews. Make sure that you are AT LEAST omitting material that offends your TARGET AUDIENCE.

-          Time. Fictional reinventions of the Holocaust probably wouldn’t have sold many copies back in 1945. The event would be too fresh in everyone’s mind, and readers would be right to throw the book into the toilet.

-          Research. How well do you know the subject? This one’s really important because readers can smell ignorance a mile away, and they’ll call you on it (shortly after flushing your book). Elie Wiesel was a prisoner of Auschwitz, so his memoir, Night, is automatically credible. Consequently, it has enjoyed enormous readership and is now requisite material in most high schools.

-          Emotional appeal. If your story is a light-hearted tale about a time-traveler, throwing him into the middle of a concentration camp is going to make a lot of people uncomfortable. If it reads more like a tribute, however, it might just win some loyal fans.

In a story I am currently writing, Christopher Winter is a Freeze Agent, one of many people responsible for keeping the world “on the right track.” The Shadow President literally stops time, allowing Chris and his coworkers to move undisturbed in a frozen world, making changes as they are instructed.

The prologue tells the story of Chris’ initiation into the society, after being kidnapped and dragged away from his father. He’s only eleven, but his assignment has a profound impact: he must let a mysterious man through airport security.

That’s it. Little does he know that the action results in the hijacking of American Airlines Flight 11 and the eventual destruction of the World Trade Center.

“What’s going to happen?” Chris asks before all of this. “Won’t that hurt people?”

“Some will suffer,” the division-leader replies. “But many more will be strengthened. It is very, very important that this happens today.”

Afterwards, the story skips ahead ten years, and it’s the last we hear of the incident, except for the pain and guilt that Chris experiences as a result. This guilt is critical. Without it, my protagonist would be the insensitive cause of the 9/11 hijackings, and many readers would despise him. But the internal torture that he experiences combined with the fact that he didn’t know any better makes him human. Not a monster. A lost, confused, and scared child who only wants to get back to his family. A symbol of the 9/11 victims’ heartbreak. Instead of seeming like a way to get money, the story feels sympathetic, and celebrates the way America grew closer together after the terrible crisis of 2001.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong, and as soon as I try to publish the story, a squad of assassins will pull up in front of my house. But those are my thoughts.

Do you think it’s too early to write fiction about 9/11? In general, how do you feel about including sensitive subjects in your writing? How do you feel when you read about them in a book?

Let me know in the comments!

Friday, February 28, 2014

11 Potential Problems with Amazon's Delivery Drones

Yes, yes, I know, this is fairly old news, but in case you haven’t heard, Amazon plans to go airborne with unmanned delivery services by 2015. What? That’s right, Amazon drones! Basically, this means you could have your packages delivered in as little as 30 minutes. Check out this video they shot while testing a prototype:

 
 

 

For the sake of open-mindedness, I’m going to swallow my amazement and try to think of ways this could go wrong.
1.    The drone could leave again too soon after a delivery, run out of juice, and crash-land in some poor old lady’s wig.

2.       The little boy at the end might run outside before his daddy can stop him and sabotage the vehicle.

3.       The daddy might be a bad man and purposefully sabotage the vehicle.

4.       A redneck conspiracy theorist (or a hunter with bad vision) might attempt to shoot it out of the sky.

5.       Along those lines – how could delivery affect hunting? Think about how many drones there could be after ten years, mingled with all those ducks. There would be a lot more restrictions and financial penalties.

6.       People with bad intentions could easily send out their own wicked drones, and we wouldn’t be able to tell the difference (think terrorists and kamikaze drones).

7.       The drone might get caught in a lightning storm.

8.       Skilled hackers could find ways to track valuable deliveries and redirect the drones to their own homes.

9.       While the drone is dropping off the little package on your front porch, your dog might just decide that it looks like a chew toy.

10.   It might get stuck landing in a bush.

11.   It might land in water. And die. Just imagine someone watching from the porch of their lakeside home as their new iPhone descends into the murky depths.

Can you think of any other potential issues with Amazon Prime Air? What's your opinion?

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

No Looking Back, You Cheater!

This was perhaps the hardest writing exercise I've ever had to endure, which is surprising, given that it's also one of the most common. My inner editor was screaming and tearing at me. Feel free to post your own efforts in the comments or on your blog - I'd love to see them! :)  

Write for ten to twenty minutes without any planning whatsoever. Complete improv. You're not allowed to change ANYTHING once you write it (except spelling errors). Go!


David shuddered as he gazed down the mountainside. There was nobody out tonight. Not that he expected any different, given the date and the time.

Today was different in many ways, but perhaps the most significant of which was that today, of all days, was the one day that he would remember for a very, very long time.

The last day like today was five years ago, on February 14 of 2430. Always Valentine’s Day – David wondered why. Perhaps it was because memories were so critical to the spirit of the holiday. Memories were what made it a holiday. The loving silences, the hand-holding on a park bench. Apparently, none of the other days mattered as much as that one.

As the bitter wind tore at David’s coat, he tried to remember the day before. He was here, wasn’t he? On this mountain, on this trail. Vestigial wisps of sensation tugged at his thoughts, reminders of the cold he had experienced. It has to be here.

David had been following a trail for as long as he could remember, which happened to be twelve hours, thirty-seven minutes. Not a rabbit-trail or the trail of a lover’s perfume, as he ought to have been. A trail that was lost in his mind. It led him through the physical world, out of the city, past the Coastals, and into the outlying forests. Whenever he crossed his path from a previous day, he experienced a sort of déjà vu. When he did not, he would veer off and eventually find his way again.

But what was I doing up here?

Luckily, David had thought to wear boots. There was no way of knowing where the day’s journey would lead, and so he had decided it was best to be cautious.

Other than the boots, though, he wasn’t exactly prepared. He had neglected to bring food, and now his stomach was pinching in complaint. He had also failed to bring chap-stick, and the cold, dry air was making him regret it.

Four long chirps rang out from somewhere in the forest canopy. Echoing around the mountain, David could have sworn they sounded like the electronic bells the schools always used.

Fifteen miles from the City. What’s ringing?

Yanking his boots out of the deep snow, he trudged toward the noise. The sun had finally summited the mountain and was now sweeping its light down towards him on the other side. An eerie quiet followed the chirping.

Then, suddenly, thunderous noise, like giant rocks falling on rocks, boomed in all directions. David screamed and tripped while trying to locate the source. Sitting at the base of a wet tree, he curled up and waited for it to end. It sounded like the entire mountain had split and was now sliding down it’s massive face.

David didn’t understand what happened next.

Déjà vu.

Where did it come from? Surely, he had never heard such a horrible din which pierced the hands he held against his ears. There was no stopping it, no blocking it. He could only wait.

Wait… wait.

A hand brushed his shoulder – a hand that he did not control. David realized that he had closed his eyes and allowed them to flutter back open, only to witness the strangest thing. A girl, about his height, brown-hair, angel-eyes, and elfin features, was seated right in front of him. Completely, undoubtedly, hovering.

David’s heart jumped into his throat. He didn’t know whether to move, or if he could move anymore. As of that moment, his arms were arrested at his sides, unresponsive to the commands of his brain.

“I have something to tell you,” said the girl, without moving her lips. Her voice came from everywhere, but seemingly from nowhere. The world was crumbling around them. “Do you want to hear it?”

Words floated out of his mouth before he could catch them. “Tell me the words.” With horror, David realized that he had not consciously made an effort to speak. His lips had not moved. And yet, the voice that responded was his own.

Wait. No, who are you? he tried to say, but the air moving through his windpipe made no noise. It was like suffocation, like a cloth had been stuffed in his mouth.

The girl leaned in until her icy breath prickled his ears.

And she spoke the words.

David let his mouth drop open, knowing full well that no sound would come out, even if he tried to speak. What he had just heard was divine, absolutely the most important words anyone had likely heard in the history of the world. He wanted to thank her, to burst out into tears, but it seemed he was incapable of everything but staring.

He now knew why the world forgot, why there was never anything before waking up, except on those few days. He knew why there was no hope, and why people did bad things. Everything came into crystal-clear focus. Death was not an obstacle, not even something to fear, but rather a step, a pinprick in the fabric of existence. David decided that perhaps it was time. Perhaps it was okay to die.

And then, only then, he woke up.

 

Saturday, February 22, 2014

Ye Olde Faithful Kindle


This weekend I bought a Kindle Paperwhite on a whim. I had watched my friend since the start of school enjoying his e-reader device, and thought, “Why not? I’m an avid reader, too!”
Admittedly, not the wisest financial decision.

I went for the newest model because A) I’m kind of a tech-snob, and B) it was shiny. Literally. The Kindle Paperwhite is the first of Amazon’s e-readers to utilize e-ink technology and have a lit screen.

At first, it seemed too good to be true.  Wouldn’t built-in light cause eyestrain, and therefore defeat the whole purpose of using e-ink? Turns out, the Amazon design team is a little smarter than that. Eyestrain occurs when a device is backlit, meaning that the light comes from directly behind the screen and is pointed at the viewer’s eyes. The Paperwhite is not backlit. It is lit from the sides of the screen, pointing inward. And so, to my delight, I was able to read deep into the night with a perfectly illuminated screen and not suffer through an eye-piercing headache.

The list of “pros” also includes a Chuck-Norris battery, a surprisingly useful vocabulary-builder application, integrated access to Goodreads (a reading-based social network), and an awesome X-Ray tool.
... It's hard to explain the awesome.

Unfortunately, it’s not as pretty as I’d hoped. In all the advertising, the screen is shown radiating with angelic whiteness, casting godly rays in all directions. The reality is that the lighting feature gives off a mostly-white-but-slightly-blue glow that seems a little colder than it should (at least on the lower settings). Not that the look really matters – it functions exactly as it’s supposed to – but upon realizing that the packaging had exaggerated, my inner raccoon died a little.

Aside from that minor disappointment, the only thing I would say is this: if you are thinking about buying a Kindle, you should probably get a case as well. I used mine for two days before I decided that the device felt too thin and fragile, even though it’s not. It is actually pretty sturdy, but feels thin and breakable, so much so that I was afraid to put it in my backpack. After spending ten bucks on a low-end leather case, however, I am much more comfortable bringing the device with me to school and on drives. With the case, it weighs about as much as a small book and feels just as comfortable in the hand (possibly even more so, because you don’t have to fight the binding to keep it open).

Overall? Not sparkly, but built and designed well, hence the "Ye Olde Faithful". 
 
Possibly my new best friend.  

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

From Concept to Story


Today I paid a visit to the Internet Movie Data Base (IMDB.com). It was this week’s most painful experience.

On the very front page, on the featured trailers banner, was my story.

 
Just kidding. It was Wally Pfister and Jack Paglan’s story, titled “Transcendence.” As soon as I saw it, I knew what it would be about. Supercomputers. An anti-technology rebellion. A man uploading his own mind onto a computer in an attempt to save his life.
(Go here for the trailer)

If you were to go into my room, dig through my drawer, find my "Idea-Log," open to page 33, and look at the top margin, you’d see something along the lines of, “Transcendent Artificial Intelligence – scientist uploads brain to computer – gains massive power – society fights back against immorality.”

MY. STORY. I can’t tell you how heartbreaking that is.

On the bright side, the movie looks good. Not only does it feature Johnny Depp and Morgan Freeman, but the story seems deep enough to give the sparkly visuals a good flavor. I commend the writer, Mr. Paglan, on his ability to take an interesting concept and put it in its best light. He was able to do something that I couldn’t, not after years of writing, rewriting, and plot-diagramming. He must be a better human being than I am.

But I’m still whining. This needs to be a constructive experience.

First: What separates his idea from mine?

Well, for starters, the words in my notebook were a skeleton. Not a story. I had a concept that needed setting, characters, relationships. Emotion. From what I gather, Paglan’s story involves a wife that is involved in the whole uploading process. That’s powerful. She’s also his “partner in science” – a nice and relatable dynamic for anyone who gets high on the pure pursuit of knowledge. She is caught between the safety of the world and the life of her husband. An impossible choice.

Duty versus love. Science versus morality. Dichotomies that are intriguing on so many levels.

Second: What is there to be learned from this difference? What do mainstream writers / directors do to bring a concept up to story status?

Let’s see if we can trace a path from the skeleton to the story, starting with, “Transcendent Artificial Intelligence.”

Stories are all about conflict, so we need problems. Problems. What’s wrong with super-intelligent computers? They might turn against us. They might hack our bank accounts or steal our private information and hold it at ransom. They might un-encrypt nuclear launch codes and start a World War III.

Somebody will have to realize this possibility before it becomes a problem. Someone has to speak up. That person will likely amass a fair amount of followers, all believing that the safety of their world is teetering on the edge of a perilous scientific cliff. Because they are desperate, they will resort to violence. Even terrorism.

Anti-tech group. Check.

What’s the other side of the coin? What advantages are there to having genius computers? If every device has access to the internet and its fellow computers, they will be able to compute solutions to humanities greatest problems faster than we could ever imagine. Being the creator of such a device must be exciting. Intoxicating. One might begin to love the computer like his/her own child. Or more than a child.

Love of technology interfering with personal, human relationships? Maternal? Fraternal? Marital?

The computers could find the cure for cancer. They could come up with a perfect system of government. They could unveil the mysteries of God and the universe. They could solve death itself.

Interesting… now death is a token in the game. Is it a race against time? Maybe a father tries to save his son from a terminal illness by creating a super-intelligent computer. But why not twist it a little more?

Maybe we should introduce a villain. Perhaps the president of the anti-tech group? Ehh… he’s just a man, a motivational speaker at best. Leaders are typically not the scary guys. In this case, the leader is probably a political junkie. The anti-tech group will put tension on our protagonist(s) outside of the main good-guy / bad-guy conflict.

So someone else, then. Someone not trained to be a moral leader. Someone adventurous. Someone predisposed to obsession over things like power and creation. An engineer.

Our scientist.

But how can the scientist be the villain? And how can he be intimidating?

What truly makes a villain scary is when they are powerful and unpredictable. This is where the other part of our concept comes in: “scientist uploads brain to computer – gains massive power.”

Our former protagonist now has a mental link to the internet. He can access the whole of human knowledge just by searching his mind. He can perform billions of calculations every second. He is drunk with the power, and quickly becomes a villain. Worse, he is growing too fast to be predictable.

But, then, who’s the protagonist? I heard a quote once that said something like: “The best villains are the ones who are personally related to the protagonists.” The most logical choice, in this case, is a coworker. And then add a little bit of love (emotion-potion) and wallah!

Our protagonist is a coworker and a spouse to the digital scientist.

What’s left? We know that our spouse/coworker protagonist is going to have to choose between the world and her husband. Bu how the heck is she going to be able to do that? That’s a huge choice. In order for our audience to be satisfied at the end of the story, they need to have closure, but we have just introduced a new type of problem: that of conscience. Even after she chooses to shut down the computer, she won’t be able to stop thinking: I just killed my husband. Killed him. Ended him.

She has to realize that it’s okay to let him go, which can happen in a couple of ways. Maybe she finds an old journal of his, in which he proclaims that he would rather die than become evil. Or maybe she discovers that he was evil all along. He hired the anti-tech group to shoot him, knowing that they would be forced to upload his mind to the computer. He planned the whole thing.

Bitter betrayal. And then? Finally. Sweet revenge.



And so there it is, from concept to story. A straight, continuous line. The latter is certainly a lot deeper and more interesting. Now, if only I could do that with my other ideas, I would be a very successful writer!

What are your thoughts?

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Horror-Stories and the Devil

After some crazy Truth or Dare at a party last weekend (involving polar-bear jumps into the cold swimming pool) my friends and I decided it was time for a movie. Of course, a movie.

Of course, a horror movie.

Mental sirens. I had decided long ago that horror was just not my genre, and that I preferred sleep to the bone-chilling thrill. But the title gripped me. Devil.

Most horror-stories I've heard of contain one brand or another of satanic possession, but I'd never heard it put quite so bluntly. Devil. Like in the journalism industry, when they get you to click on articles by inserting those magic words "gruesome" or "disturbing," some twisted part of my brain convinced me to stay in the room for what could only be an "uplifting" movie about Satan.

It actually wasn't that bad. Granted, I couldn't sleep that night, but from a story perspective, it was really thought-provoking (if you want the trailer, go here).

It got me thinking: what strategies do directors and writers employ to create that terror in their audience? I mean, everybody at the party knew that Devil was a work of fiction, but that didn't change their reaction. It didn't change my reaction.

Here are a couple of things I've picked up on:


  • The main character(s) are always alone when bad things happen. I guess this is a way to instill a feeling of hopelessness in the viewer. There's no one to help. Nobody will hear him scream. It also brings on a sort of paranoia, especially when "aloneness" seems to be following them. Don't stay in one place too long. Everybody will leave. Don't go the short way home, traffic is better. Don't talk on your cell phone or you'll be distracted and go somewhere alone.

  • Smart directors will want to keep you on your toes, so they'll mislead you with the music. It will play but nothing bad will happen. This will keep you from hiding under your blankie every time it starts. I've wonder if... oh, my... will he die this time? When's that thing gonna pop out? Maybe...? No, I guess not. *sigh of relief*

  • The best horror movies infiltrate your mental "safe-houses." These are places that, after all your years of life, you have come to accept as safe. For example, if the monster manages to break into the Lead's dreams (Nightmare on Elm Street) it will automatically set you on edge. In Devil, the "safe-house" is an elevator. Who actually believes that they're going to be murdered by Satan if they walk into an elevator? I'd be more concerned about dying from the music.

  • Above all, too much exposure to the "monster" will kill the fear. This is what ruined the movie "When a Stranger Calls" (go here). It would have been scarier if the bad guy had never been shown full-on and if he had gotten away. Instead, the director filmed plenty of shots with the psycho (perhaps this contributed to the 4.9/10 rating).


I'm curious to see how this will apply to my writing. Obviously, music isn't an option, but some of the other techniques could be very effective.

What techniques have you used to create fear in your audience? If you have a story you would like to share, I would be glad to review it. Send me a link or post in the comments!


Friday, February 14, 2014

A Letter to Orson Scott Card

"Who's your favorite author?" asked my dad knowingly.

I didn't hesitate. "Orson Scott Card!"

"Knew it." He smiled. "Thought I might let you know that if you ever want to write a letter, I can almost guarantee you a genuine interaction with the guy."

My mouth dropped open. Like, a real reply? Like, not from his secretary? I wasn't expecting such a grand finale from our conversation about networking.

Everywhere I turn on the internet, writers are saying, "get connected! Grow your network!" And I think that is a very legitimate concept. Every friend you make is another person who you can help and who can help you - a sort of authorly symbiosis. 

Now, sitting on the edge of confidence, letter composed, I'm not so sure that my dad's connection will be enough to earn a thoughtful note. Nonetheless, I would love to fine-tune what I have so far:


Dear Mr. Card,
My name is Drew, and I am an aspiring teenage author who has long respected your books, Ender’s Game and Pathfinder. Both stand out to me as incredibly unique and inspiring stories. Given your talent and success, I felt you were the best person to approach with a couple questions I have about English class:
What do you think is the value in analyzing archaic literature, if anything?
What can be gained in conforming to a professor’s writing guidelines when you’d rather use your own stylistic structuring (again, if anything)?
 
I would be interested in hearing your thoughts!
Thank you for your time,
Drew
 
What do you think? Too short? Too many colors? Too anything?  
Ooh, how about this: what questions would you ask a prolific writer like Orson Scott Card?
My plan is to send this off after a few days on the blog and after my dad reviews it. So if you have anything to ask, speak up! :)

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Penny Prompt - Something Ugly


Here's another penny-prompt that I did last weekend:
 
 

2) Write about something ugly–war, fear, hate, or cruelty

Johnson swung the barrel of his rifle around in a complete circle, taking in the vast ruined city. ETA of his rescue-chopper was thirty minutes and counting. The air was ghostly quiet.
Might as well do a sweep.

One devastated building blanketed in ivy drew his attention, partially because of the enormous letters painted beneath the ropy vines. He squinted, trying to make out the faded characters.

“ST. MATHESON’S RE----- -OME FOR CHILDREN”

“Refuge home…” he mouthed, intrigued. It looked like it come from an aged fairy-tale. Old brick, faded colors that could’ve been happy – plus, fairy-tales always had orphanages. We drove these kids out. Guilt struck deep beneath his armor as he thought of his own child, only three years old, back home.

He stepped up to a hole in the brick wall and peered in. It was dark and covered in rubble, but he could see light further down the hallway. Probably a battery-powered emergency light. Most public buildings had them.

Despite the fact that nobody was supposed to be there, Johnson couldn’t help but step lightly as he entered the building. It felt haunted, like the ghosts of all his victims had converged on this one spot. A sickening idea struck him: what if there are bodies here? Childrens’ bodies? Now that it occurred to him, it was probably true. Everybody had been taken by surprise when his team swept through, not just the militia. Even the friendlies, even the ones who weren’t supposed to get involved.

On second thought, maybe he ought to go and wait out in the open.

Johnson turned and stepped back into the sunlight. Today wasn’t the day for violence. There would be other opportunities to forage through the tangled, mystical ruins on supply-runs with his team. Natives from the neighboring town would come in and remove the dead. Maybe then they could –

Johnson’s ears perked up. He thought he heard… no, it can't be

He listened closer.

The sound came again.

“Oh my God!” he shouted, ripping his radio out and pressing the button. “Where are you, Mariel?”

Static. “Captain, are you alright? Are the hostiles back?”    

“The hell they are! I’ve got a survivor on –"

“What are you saying? Calm down! Nobody survived that attack, sir, everyone’s gone – ”

“Don’t talk to me!” He screamed. “I hear it right now! Somebody is crying, I can hear it! Get a medic, now!” He dropped the radio and brought his rifle up to ready position. His own heartbeat was knocking the air out of his lungs. Looks like it’s into the dark, after all.

Muffled static. Finger on trigger.

Muscles tensed, like a prowling cat, Johnson tried to maintain composure. Nobody’s supposed to be alive. Nobody is alive. He proceeded quietly into the darkness, chanting the words over and over in his head.

The sound grew more and more distinct as he advanced through the black hallways. Just a friendly, he began to think, no longer able to accept that he was hallucinating. The crying was too loud, too clear. He kept his eyes forward, ignoring the eerie, peeling wallpaper decorated with flowers and clouds.

There was a shadowy doorway just up ahead. That’s where the sound was coming from, he could tell by the way it echoed. With his lips, he formed the words, “who’s there?” but no sound came out. Fear had caught him by the throat.

SCHHH! “Captain?”

Johnson yelped and pulled the trigger. A deafening bang cut him straight to the bone, and somewhere in front of him, rubble was knocked loose. Johnson disconnected his radio and brought his gun straight back up, panting heavily.

Damn it, damn it, damn it, please, Lord, help me…

There was a moment when he couldn’t hear because his ears were ringing, but then the noise subsided and all that was left was a soft crying. Exactly as before. It hadn’t changed at all. It was a quiet, weak voice, and… somewhat familiar.

Fear turned to terror. Icy terror.

“Oli?” he called out, voice trembling. “My s- oh, God, my son?”

The crying stopped abruptly. Like it had been waiting all along.