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Things Feud Taught Me About Writing

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : June 14, 2020

Category: Inspiration, Things X Taught Me About Writing

Tags:alfred molina, bette davis, blog post, feud, feud fx, jessica lange, joan crawford, stanley tucci, susan surandon, things feud taught me about writing

“Feuds are never about hate. Feuds are about pain.”

Who would’ve thought a mini-series about two aging Hollywood actresses feuding would have turned out so damned good, if you ask me.

Honestly, if I just say it out loud, FX’s 2017 mini-series Feud sounds like a boring melodrama. It’s not. Somehow, it’s not! It’s a tightly written, brilliantly acted, compelling character study of two women I’d literally never heard of before the series and now that I’ve watched and rewatched it, I have to say that it’s probably one of my favorite things I’ve seen in the last several years of frankly disappointing TV. I’d like to take a moment to shine the spotlight on why I found this mini-series so compelling and decided to pick back up on the topic of writing as well.

Spoilers for FX’s Feud, naturally.

However, unlike my other Things X Taught Me About Writing, because Feud is somewhat obscure and today’s 2020 world probably like me wasn’t really in the know about the divas of days past, I’ll give you a bite-sized recap. Feud is about the famous feud between actresses Joan Crawford and Bette Davis. The two starred in the Oscar-nominated 1962 film Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? Decades of resentment, problems on set, and meddling third parties all contributed to the feud and the series takes real life events and firsthand accounts from their feud and builds a story from it. What’s neat is that the series really does try its best at recapping the events of bygone decades. If you look up the events of Bette and Joan’s lives, they do in fact line up with what is portrayed in the series. Keep in mind that this is going to focus on the series itself and we’re not assuming that everything that happens is an accurate representation of their lives. Instead, we’re analyzing how the show decided to depict them, so remember, I am not dishonoring the memory of either actress. We’re treating this as fiction, same as anything else. Let’s dive in and see what worked as well as what it has to teach us about writing.

Character matters. The focus of the series is on the many intricate, complicated motivations and lives of Bette Davis and Joan Crawford. What fascinates me about the series is that it manages to frame both women as completely human. They are both clearly talented women, but their faults are so enormous that it causes them to butt heads even though they certainly share similarities. At the same time, the show never loses focus on what is most important. Each actress is given more than enough time to show us who she is.

Joan Crawford is larger than life. She wears furs and diamonds and needs to be seen at all times no matter where she is. However, that larger than life persona is hiding a vain and insecure woman who has never felt respected and never felt like she was taken seriously despite her hard work at her craft. By contrast, Bette Davis is a hard-nosed roughneck who cares about one thing and one thing only: her work. She is brutally honest to the point of being insulting and would happily dismiss anyone who dares to cross her path, which makes her very lonely. She is also plagued by not being conventionally attractive by Hollywood’s standards, so she had to fight twice as hard to become an actress since we all know Hollywood is a thousand times harder on women’s appearances than men.

What works so well in this series is how it dives deep into the problems in their personal lives and then compares it to what made them clash on set and even in private. Neither women is seen as better than the other. Neither woman is seen as worse than the other. The series helps us understand the best and worst parts of Bette and Joan. It does it so well that you’re captivated with every new development of conflict, whether internal or external. It’s a reminder that it doesn’t matter what the hell the story and plot is about: if you write compelling characters, your audience is going to stick with them through thick and thin. And Bette and Joan’s lives are nothing short of a rollercoaster. You see their highest highs and their lowest lows. You see every facet of their personalities and their performances. The two are just as much alike as they are different and it all adds up to a phenomenal story.

Hubris is a bitch. As mentioned above, the show is excellent at portraying hubris. Joan’s biggest flaw is a mixture of her insecurity and her arrogance, which is a lethal combination. It causes her to act out and lose her temper many times, often resulting in self-sabotage. She destroys several opportunities for herself because she is so unwilling to let go of her vanity and her ego because she needs to feel appreciated and loved. Bette’s biggest flaw is that she is uncompromising in any area and unwilling to forgive or admit fault due to being so prideful. She bulldozes right through anyone at the slightest provocation, thereby escalating her problem of being isolated and lonely. The two of them are already powder kegs and working on the same film together just lights the match and lets you watch that wick burn down until it’s time for the grand explosion. The two gleefully take shot after shot at each other, building and fueling their resentment for one another as they continue to associate with each other over the course of filming the movie, and then again when they try to team up for Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte.

Character flaws are vital to any good character. No one is perfect, and if they are, hell, even that can be considered a flaw, for it means no one can understand them. Bette and Joan’s flaws pull you into the story more and more as you see them start to unravel as they’re at each other’s throats. You can understand why some of the people in their lives might have thought they should have been friends, for the struggles that they come up against are real and scary and often sympathetic. Even though they are both famous Hollywood starlets, it gives them an angle for you as the viewer to understand them.

Female-led stories have a different focus than male-led stories for a reason. One thing I truly applaud this mini-series for is that it very much feels like it’s written by women for women. It’s in everything. It’s the performances, the backstories, the dialogue, the settings, the clothing, the supporting characters. There is a distinct way that it feels when a female-led story has a good writer who truly understands the way a woman experiences the world, but especially Hollywood during this decade. The series takes place during the 1960’s. It’s not a politically correct world in the slightest. Women were still expected to be homemakers or subservient to their husbands. Actresses were—and certainly still are—supposed to be beauty queens who gracefully bow out once they stop being “attractive” and they’re also put through hell by the sexist powers that be in Hollywood.

The series shows some of the ugliest sides of the moviemaking business, from directors cheating on their wives to snotty actors refusing to cooperate with production. What’s more is that the lens is still clearly focused on what is important to Bette and Joan, and it’s very reflective of the things that women have to put up with in our daily lives. It sounds crazy that the average woman would at all relate to two Hollywood starlets in their later years in the 1960’s, but it’s honestly quite easy.

Joan was a beautiful woman in her youth and therefore is unable to adjust to being in her sunset years. She became so accustomed to getting what she wanted out of men that once that power was gone, she couldn’t cope. She had to provide for her children as well during a time when she was struggling to get any roles, and those roles were dissatisfying to her as well. Seeing how Hollywood turned its back on her is very harsh, as fame is truly a cruel and fickle mistress. We all have seen stars who were household names one day and then vanished in the blink of an eye and then forgotten. Joan had to fight and claw her way to become a star and yet it’s taken away from her by what usually defeats us all: time.

Bette is a hardworking actress who had to hone her craft due to not being conventionally pretty, so she has an outer shell that is as thick as concrete. She never wants to let anyone get close to her because her work comes first. It always comes first. Even at the cost of her personal and professional relationships. She’d quickly toss someone aside for the chance at a role that could be worth it in the end because she needs to feel appreciated for her work more than she needs to feel loved by others. Any working woman can sympathize with that, but especially creatives. So many of us have sacrificed things in order to make our art as great as it can possibly be.

What hits hardest is seeing Bette and Joan struggle against so many things being women of that era, where men do not want to give them power but instead want to manipulate them. Jack Warner of the Warner Bros Studio in particular is a good example of what actresses of the era had to come up against. All he cares about is money and appearances. Nothing else matters. Having to answer to someone like that must have been hell and we see the effect it has on the two of them. It’s a sign that the writing is focused on the right areas. Often, women are unable to advance their own careers or even their own lives because of men of power, and sometimes, men who should in no way be in that position of power. It’s a dark reminder that while things have certainly gotten better, it’s still tough in general working while female, as the #MeToo movement has revealed. I have to say Feud is one of my favorite feminist portrayals of women to date, and feminist in its true definition, not the warped one that some of the fakers use to justify their hatred of men. Bette and Joan advocate for themselves and each other, wanting to be held in equal regard with male actors in Hollywood. I think it resonates with many women facing the same double standards and unfair rules in place to stop them from achieving their goals. It’s damn good writing, if you ask me.

I also wanted to give a quick shout out for the supporting characters of Hedda Hopper and Mamacita, who both manage to have their own miniature arcs and are important for carrying along the story and conflict in unexpected ways. Hedda Hopper is a viper and you’re not meant to like her one bit, but you have to admire how vicious she is in going after what she wants no matter what. Mamacita’s no-nonsense attitude and strict demeanor manages to come across as charming and subtle at the same time, as you see how deeply she cares for Joan, but she shows it in a rather particular way. Both women have motivations and ambitions that women share and understand as well, and it’s a nice contrast to Bette and Joan’s as well.

I know Feud certainly isn’t for mass consumption and won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. I give it credit where credit is due. I’d say if you’re a fan of character introspection and stories heavily based on personal conflict, give it a whirl. It did manage to win two Primetime Emmy awards and was nominated for a bucketload of other things (some of which I definitely think they should have won, but I digress.) If any of the writing lessons above sound good to you, I encourage you to check it out, and maybe even give the life stories of the real Bette Davis and Joan Crawford a look-see as well, for there is much more to them than meets the eye.

Things Daredevil Taught Me About Writing

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : March 22, 2016

Category: Things X Taught Me About Writing

Tags:blog post, claire temple, daredevil, foggy nelson, karen page, Marvel, matt murdock, mcu, netflix, things daredevil taught me about writing, wilson fisk, writing, writing advice

In case you missed it, Netflix’s original series Daredevil is like a second Christmas. You wait all year long for it, anticipating it highly, and staring obsessively at the clock the night before hoping you got everything you wanted. And in many respects, it actually delivers. It’s a smart, biting, gritty, (mostly) realistic show that details a vigilante’s struggle against the criminal element while also examining the inner demons he fights along the way. The first season made a huge splash because none of us expected it to be anywhere near as good as it was because we’ve sadly had to get accustomed to the TV-budget versions of heroes where nearly all of their comic book storylines are adapted and changed. (I’ve come to call it “CW-ing” them.) Because Netflix isn’t bound by ratings or having to stay PG-13, it was allowed to take a LOT of risks and to more directly adapt some of the storylines and character beats from the comics. Let’s take a look at what it has to teach us now that we’ve got two seasons under our belts.

As always, massive spoilers ahead. Don’t read if you’re not updated on both seasons yet.

1. The fastest way to a great story is investing time in your main cast. For me, this is the main reason why I love the Daredevil series. Often with superhero-related stories, the writers feel the need to rush to the action, and so you end up with some gorgeous fight sequences but it doesn’t have an impact on your audience because we’re not invested in the character. For me, this was one of the biggest issues I had with Man of Steel. Sure, I liked Clark alright, but I didn’t really know much about him because the story rushed onward to get to different set pieces and introduce the new cast. With Daredevil, we are shown all sides of Matt Murdock, from the pure and holy to the nitty gritty darkness nestled inside him. We see him struggle from childhood to teenage years to college years to his adulthood with suppressed anger at the injustice he’s had to watch in Hell’s Kitchen. We see that he is without a doubt a good man who wants to save people, but that he is also extremely flawed. Therefore, when his life is in danger, you get those “clutch your arm rest and squirm” moments when you see him getting his ass kicked by the scum of Hell’s Kitchen.

But that’s not all. Not only do we see a full-spread of emotions and intricacies for Matt Murdock, but we’re also treated to fantastic supporting characters like Foggy Nelson, Claire Temple, Ben Yorick, and even the freaking villain himself Wilson Fisk. (I’ve left Karen off for now, but don’t worry, we’ll circle back around to her further down.) I can’t believe how amazing the character development was for the supporting characters in this series. We get to learn so much about them and they are so damned easy to love. My personal favorites are Claire Temple and Foggy Nelson, who are both excellent contrasts to Matt Murdock. Claire is strong, decisive, smart, and compassionate, but still vulnerable. Foggy is hilarious, heart-warmingly kind, razor-sharp, and brave, but often shy and non-confrontational. They do so much to smack some sense into Matt (though it doesn’t exactly stick) and even though he frustrates them to no end, they still care for him either way. In the case of Wilson Fisk, we are shown that he is basically an animal in a human suit, but it comes with a solid reason when his background is revealed. One of the best writing rules is that villains see themselves at the hero of their own story, and this is very much the case for Wilson Fisk. He thinks razing the city to the ground and starting over is the only way to save it, and while he’s definitely a brute, it’s easy to understand why he thinks that way.

As a writer, I can attest to the fact that I very strongly believe that getting your readers invested in the characters as soon as possible is the right way to go. The reason is that it will allow you the time you need to set up a great story once you have your audience’s full attention and trust. We are often more tolerant of a story taking time to develop if we immediately are entertained or grow fond of our protagonists and antagonists right off the bat. You can make me believe the most ridiculous premise imaginable as long as I give a crap about the main leads. That’s the honest to God truth about writing.

2. Realism is a double-edged sword, to be used very carefully. Another reason Daredevil made a huge splash with its first season is that we got some of the most brutal yet realistic fight scenes ever. I mean, take a look at the hallway fight sequence.

God. It’s…breathtaking. This is not to say that movies and television don’t have realistic fights all the time, but according to Word of God, this was done in one freaking shot. One. That is incredible filmmaking. I mean, that’s some Emmy/Oscar worthy stuff right there, and that’s pretty much what cemented this series in the hearts of many fans. We love attention to detail with realism in today’s society.

For example, showing all the modern tech available for the blind was also massively interesting to me, from Matt’s alarm clock and ringtones to how he reads information on the Internet. It’s showing us the work that was put in to having a blind protagonist and not making it seem like he’s handicapped or anything less than a normal person. It’s a rarely seen perspective that is much appreciated. No pun intended.

However, the flip side of that is that the show quickly established that it wants to be realistic, but then we still have gaping logic holes in certain character’s actions on occasion that can REALLY snap you out of the story. In season one, we had the beloved Wesley, Wilson Fisk’s righthand man, kidnapping Karen Page and threatening her to give up her investigation…and then he puts a gun with live rounds right in front of her on a table. So guess what happens. I mean, really? Wesley is a career criminal who acts with total logic and discretion at all times and who has gotten out of many a scrape using his brain and connections and he goes out like a bitch. I hated it. I hated it so much, and it’s definitely a fault in the writing.

My second example comes from our recent season, where Frank Castle, aka the Punisher, escapes from prison and everyone is 100% certain he’s going to come after the District Attorney who put him there to begin with. So what do they do? Leave her alone in her office standing in front of not one but two HUGE windows despite the fact that the Punisher’s M.O. is to use high powered rifles to take out his targets through windows. I’m not kidding. She stands with her back to the biggest window ever for the entirety of her conversation with Nelson and Murdock, not wearing body armor and not even having a policeman in the room to check the perimeter. So guess what happens? For God’s sake, it was so frustrating that I had to turn off the episode and find something else to do while I was calming myself down.

If you have a story and you make it clear that you want to stick to realism, then you have to go all in. You can’t pick and choose when things will be realistic as hell and then completely back out on it in order to move the plot forward. It’s one or the other. It’s the same reason why I find Sharknado so utterly confusing, which I know is a weird comparison. The movie clearly is bad on purpose, and yet you still have these bizarre moments where it tries to operate on logic and physics when it is in fact a movie about flying sharks that somehow don’t suffocate in mid-air and still feel the need to eat people. One of these things is not like the other. You can’t have your cake and eat it too. You have to be consistent in your writing, whether you lean towards realism or the fantastic.

3. Beware the Writer’s Pet. If you’re unfamiliar with TV Tropes, you should really get acquainted. It’s a wonderful site that collects well-known tropes in all forms of media and provides examples. It’s not only fun and hilarious, but it’s also a great teaching tool for writers. To that end, let’s discuss one right now with Karen Page.

I tried to give Karen Page a chance in season one. I really did. It was very sympathetic what happened to her with the death of her friend/coworker Daniel, and I like her gung-ho attitude about exposing the truth about the cover up and Fisk’s organization. However, as the season progressed, it became more and more clear that she was getting treatment that the other characters were not. Sometimes writers get this attachment to a character that puts them on a pedestal safe from harm even though every other character gets the shaft, or has to deal with the karma from their actions. Karen Page is definitely an example of a Writer’s Pet, of a character who gets the exception every single time and doesn’t have to work at not getting screwed over by the brutality of life. Karen Page has had it rough, but she constantly lucks out of every situation, much like another blonde from a television show whom I hate to the depths of my soul.

Writer’s Pets help absolutely no one. It is a bad habit. It seriously decreases the ability to like a character who can’t get themselves out of their own mess and who gets Deus Ex Machina’d out of every scrape even though the other protagonists are forced to make their own way. To me, Karen Page is a damsel in distress who is delusional and thinks she’s actually a badass investigator with street smarts. This show has been absolutely ruthless with its characters, often killing off sweet old ladies or showing bad guys attached to meat hooks with their guts spilling out, but sweet widdle Karen Page escapes everything without a damn scrape.

The lesson here is don’t wrap your characters up in bubble wrap and rock them to sleep. Punish them. Make them cry. Make them squirm. Make them suffer. You still have the choice to make it all worthwhile and to give them a happy ending if it fits the story and if they deserve one, but nothing will be gained by placing them on a pedestal because you just happen to like them so much. It’ll come through in your writing very clearly if you’re holding back because you have a favorite. It’s totally fine to have a favorite, but don’t get soft. If you love them, hurt them for the good of their growth and for the good of the story.

4. Take “Woobie” out of your writing repertoire forever. If you know anything about me, you know that I believe in the Jim Butcher school of “torture every character equally and make them earn their keep so your writing will be awesome.” Daredevil as a show does very well with this in both seasons, except for two characters so far. The first we’ve already discussed is Karen Page. The second, as of season two, is Frank Castle, aka The Punisher. It’s time to get on a bit of a soapbox in this particular case.

Woobification is basically when a clearly bad or evil character becomes someone whom the fandom dotes all their affection on and claims that they are the victim here instead of the antagonist. They are in fact wrong, and projecting their feelings onto this character for whatever reason. A good example of this is Grant Ward from the Agents of SHIELD franchise. He is literally a Neo-Nazi murderer who constantly excused his actions because of his abusive past, and he had a large portion of the AoS fandom on his side constantly excusing his behavior and “standing with him” no matter what horrible thing he did, from shooting people through the throat in cold blood to crashing an entire plane full of innocents just to get a ride into restricted areas. Grant Ward is trash, plain and simple. Yet somehow, he has fans.

Likewise, the Punisher has Karen Page. Seriously. We’re talking about a man who hung bad guys up on meat hooks alive and cut them open and let them slowly bleed to death and suffocate as they drowned in their own blood. And yet Karen Page repeatedly claims that, “He’s not a psychotic murderer!” every single time someone said that about him. This is a man who opened fire on her with a shotgun. This is a man who pistol-whipped someone until his face cracked open like an egg in front of her before shooting him in the head. This is a man who slits people’s throats with shivs. But no, he’s not a psychotic murderer even though a professional medical examiner proved that he suffers from a psychosis in which he constantly relives the death of his family, which bends his perception of reality to the point where he thinks he is never wrong and so he doesn’t regret any of the hundreds of lives he’s wiped out. Yeah, his family was brutally murdered and died in his arms. But guess what?

Writers of the world, I beg you to stop writing this damn trope.

Karen Page really does somehow think that Frank Castle isn’t the scum of the earth, and even though we know her Freudian excuse is that she murdered Wesley and she’s trying to excuse her own crime inwardly, there is no reason that they wrote her as a Punisher Stan in season two. Do not write a character as a monster and then spend the rest of your time trying to explain away his monstrosity. If you’re going to redeem him, do it. But don’t constantly browbeat us with flawed reasoning that he wasn’t as bad as we think he is. We’re okay with the grey area. We’re adults. Treat us like thinking adults. Most of us aren’t going to swallow this crap that he’s not such a bad guy or that he’s a good man when he hung people on meat hooks and split them open like pig carcasses and let them die in horrible screaming agony. Stop trying to make Fetch happen. It’s not going to happen.

5. Beware the “He Who Fights Monsters” trope and use it wisely. One thing that Daredevil also does extremely well is exploring guilt and doubt about vigilantism. Matt constantly questions if he’s doing what is needed for the city, or if he’s simple satisfying his own savage nature born out of witnessing his father’s death at the hands of criminals in Hell’s Kitchen. This is great. It’s a fantastic theme of inner conflict for him, and it negatively affects his whole life as a result, forcing him to choose between what he thinks is justice and his own friends.

However, season two might have taken it a bit too far.

Matt basically ends up systematically alienating his closest friends and allies in season two because of his ridiculous belief that he needs to cut all ties in order to keep them safe. He plunges Foggy into the worst case imaginable, namely trying to reduce the sentence of known crazy murderer Frank Castle, and then bails on helping with the case because of his private crusade with old flame Elektra. Then when Foggy confronts him about getting himself killed while recklessly running into things headfirst as Daredevil, Matt severs ties with him and refuses to apologize for who he is to the guy who has covered for his ass a dozen times and only chastises him because he doesn’t want him dead. Then Matt receives some rather wise comfort from our resident goddess Claire Temple and he still doesn’t listen to her, and inadvertently causes her to quit her job after he brings her a group of patients who are followed by ruthless ninjas. All of this is on top of the fact that The Punisher thinks Matt is one bad day away from being him, even though Frank is clearly cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs and has barely a spoonful of humanity left.

Matt’s actions don’t feel like he’s trying to protect his friends. It feels like he’s just being a cold-hearted dick to the people who love him, the people who comfort him, the people who try to help him at every turn even when he gets them in trouble. What I don’t like about season two is that Matt can’t see that even if he avoids his friends, that doesn’t mean they just stop caring or worrying over him. It’s much easier to deal with that concern if the object of your concern shows that they acknowledge what you’re going through and still tries to support you somehow. Matt bails on all of them, and I like him less for it even though I get where the show is trying to go.

It is a very fine line to walk with the He Who Fights Monsters trope. I based my second novel around it, in fact, and I’ve had to reap both the benefits and the negatives from that experience. Some readers were extremely frustrated with Jordan, but they understood what she did and supported her anyway. Other readers got too angry and threw in the towel, and that’s fine too. It’s not for everyone. I think Daredevil gambled and lost with this trope. I think Matt tripped and fell into the Unlikable category, and that’s why I caution all writers to examine where you’re going with your character and make sure you don’t push them to the point of not being relatable. This is not to say that I’ll give up on Matt, but his actions made me lose a chunk of respect and affection for him because he was so dickish.

6. Let your characters grow and learn from their mistakes. Matt Murdock might be one of the most stubborn sons of bitches alive. Honestly, from season one and on he really convinces himself that punching the problem in the face is the best way to go. In some respects, yes, it works. All the small time thugs and criminals are apprehended and sent to serve out their sentence. The big wigs are much harder to keep in jail, but eventually, even they get their comeuppance, like with Wilson Fisk.

However, season two falls into the same trap that made me dislike season one somewhat. Matt just keeps doing the exact same thing a hundred times and yet still expects a different result. He runs headfirst into every problem and just assumes he’s tough enough to survive the consequences. One thing that I’ve always liked about Batman, who has a vein of similarities with Daredevil, is that he does understand that there is more to fighting crime than just punching dudes unconscious. He also investigates crimes and foils them before they happen instead of just reacting to everything. He carries gadgets that make life easier. He studied criminology and allegedly every fighting style known to man. He prepared himself as much as possible, and then he went out into the streets of Gotham to help his fellow man. And Matt Murdock, two seasons in, is still just punching dudes.

You have to expand. You have to innovate or at least self-correct with your characters depending on whether you write a stand-alone work or a series. It gets repetitive and frustrating if your hero refuses to see the plain logic in front of him that “this is not working and if I’m going to be an effective [x], I need to change my ways.” It’s natural for our protagonists to fail, and most of the time, it’s necessary for their overall growth. But after they fail, you need to alter them somehow. Show them a new path. Make them realize they screwed up and change their course to a better tomorrow. Otherwise, it can make the reader extremely angry with them and sever the connection you made to begin with. Nobody wants that. We all want to root for someone we care about and relate to, so don’t cut corners by letting them stay static forever.

All that being said, Daredevil is one hell of a show and I am already raring for the next season. Pun fully intended.

Kyo out.

Hindsight is 20/20: My Second Year in Self Publishing

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : July 22, 2015

Category: Inspiration, Things X Taught Me About Writing

Tags:authors, blog post, personal post, she who fights monsters, the black parade, the black parade series, the deadly seven, the holy dark, writing, writing advice

“What’s it like to be a self-published author?”

A little dramatic, but hey, it’s accurate. This is my second year as a self-published author, and as insane as it sounds, I’ve actually put in twice the work than I did my first year.

To keep with tradition, here’s a rough estimation of my stats from BookTrackr.com:

Copies Sold: 2232

Free Copies Sold: 13994

Reviews: 125

Money Earned Since 1^st Publication Date: 2727.53

A marketed improvement from last year, no doubt. However, the same thing can be repeated as my first retrospective blog post from last year. Being a self-published author is a slog. It’s a long, arduous journey of walking across a burning desert dragging our books along behind you like Will Smith in Independence Day. And yes, you will occasionally yell at them, stop, and kick them a few times while insisting you could have been at a barbeque.

Very few authors have it made, and the ones who do will still tell you that this is an extremely difficult career path to navigate. However, having tried and failed at several thousand things, I can happily provide a few lessons that I’ve learned over the past year.

-No matter what happens, some authors will always insist that you have to “choose a side” between self-publishing and traditional publishing. You can’t escape it. People seem happiest when they can label something and identify an enemy, and so the best thing to do is straddle the fence. Neither side is “right” or “wrong.” They’re simply different entities. Your life will be infinitely easier if you don’t draw a line in the sand. If you feel strongly enough to do so, sure, go ahead, but don’t be a bully and don’t be unprofessional about it. You can burn bridges you didn’t even know were there if you do.

-Amazon is always going to do whatever it wants to do. We as authors don’t have control over it because we don’t own it, and we certainly shouldn’t feel entitled to certain kinds of treatment or making calls that aren’t ours to make. There are other platforms from which to sell books, and if Amazon makes you unhappy, pursue them, or switch to traditional publishing. You can waste a lifetime complaining on forums about how you dislike their policies and it will change nothing.

-If your work permits it, joining other authors in a boxed set can help get you into the hands of readers that you might not have had access to otherwise. As long as you are treated professionally and aren’t operating at a loss, give it a shot. I’ve been in two of them so far, and it’s done wonders for my discoverability. There is no perfect boxed set, though, and sometimes they promise you goals that are unrealistic or unattainable, but it’s still a rewarding experience and fantastic exposure. Plus, meeting other authors and collaborating with them is almost always a great idea.

-If you’re into fandom-related activities like comic/anime cons, try reaching out to the organizers. All they can do is say no, and that’s the worst case scenario. You might be able to stumble across an opportunity to promote your work and discover a new audience as well as meeting like-minded people for a few days of fun.

-The permafree model is still a good way to go if you are 100% new at publishing and have no following. It opens up doors and gets you the most basic level of readers, the freebie seekers. However, the next step that you’re looking for is people who are mildly interested in your work. This tier is very desirable because unlike the freebie seekers, they will shell out cash for your work, but you have to be very patient as some of them can lash out if they dislike your book and it can take a long time for you to gather reviews. If you reach this tier within your second year of publication, make sure that your work is as high quality as you can make it and make sure that you have multiple works. The permafree model really only works if you have a series, not a standalone or two-book series.

-If you find yourself starting to consistently spend money on editing, marketing, promotions, and other expenses, keep track of them for the sake of your taxes. Unfortunately, royalties are not taxed in the US with Amazon, so when Tax Day comes, you owe the government a fat check and if you’re a low income earner like me, it evaporates your refund. Seriously. I got $77 back from the IRS this April. It’s that awful.

-If you’re writing a series, particularly in science fiction or fantasy, write yourself little notes of characters, plot threads, or premises that could be good spin offs in the future. I wrote a four book series because I feel that this is the length of Jordan’s journey as a character, but the supporting cast does have the potential to be explored as well. Don’t get too focused on just one thing. Most successful authors have a couple of novellas, short stories or short story collections, or anthologies that help line their pockets after they’ve created their own fanbase. Always keep a backlog of ideas for future works in case you conclude one series. Keeping momentum is extremely important.

-The key to staying afloat is consistency. One book a year is the standard, and that’s for traditional publishing. For self-published authors, especially debut authors, it’s actually 1-3 books a year for maximum saturation and exposure. A lot of people hate the long waits between books (seriously, I am so impatient for the release of Peace Talks that I cannot stop writing Dresden Files fanfics) and if you have multiple works drop per year, you can accumulate more readers in a fraction of the time.

-Stay connected to your fans however you can. Social media is taxing, but I’ve had a lot of new readers reach out through Twitter and Facebook to say they enjoyed my work. Say thank you every single time. Doesn’t matter if it’s just a short little post. Do it. Thank every last reader you get and make sure you leave a good impression with them, because while social media marketing and online promotion are powerful, Word of Mouth is still the best way to get readers. It’s the hardest to accomplish, but by far the most successful way to increase your readers. Be gracious and accept fair criticism when it’s given.

-If you have the budget, try creative outlets like having commissions done of your characters or alternative book covers. Fans respond to pictures way faster than text posts, in my experience, and new images from the series are far more likely to get shared than anything else.

-If you start getting negative reviews, only skim them for relevant issues. If it’s just a rant about how much you suck, don’t even read it. Keep on scrolling and don’t get angry. We’ve had too many authors get in needless dust ups with reviewers this year. Don’t respond. Ever. Unless you’re Brock Baker, you are not allowed to mock your critics. You’re an author. Write well and write often and that’s all you can do, no matter how much it bothers you to get nasty reviews. (And yes, one and two star reviews are ALWAYS going to bother you, bestselling author or not.)

-If possible, submit guest blogs/articles to writing sites and other subjects you’re interested in. This year, I had a big success with my article about Natasha Romanoff and feminism on Black Girl Nerds, and while it didn’t immediately reflect in sales, it got me a lot of buzz and some new followers on Twitter from my key demographic of readers. Social media is NOT about selling books; it’s about connecting with other people. Eventually, some of them might give your work a try, and that’s the important thing. Be genuinely interested in something and be entertaining and intelligent, and often, they’ll come to you.

If anything, my second year in self-publishing has taught me that the best thing you can do is expand your mind and understand that there isn’t one path to growing your readership. There are hundreds, and while you may not instantly rocket to success on your first or second try, you can slowly start to push that boulder closer to the top of the hill. And, if you’re lucky, you have a couple good people helping you push, or you can give advice to the people on the hill next to you doing the same thing.

Here’s to another year and another climb up that hill. Thanks to everyone who has stuck by me and enjoyed my work. I look forward to bringing you more of it soon.

Kyoko

Things Bad Movies Taught Me About Writing

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : March 17, 2015

Category: Things X Taught Me About Writing

Tags:bad movies, blog post, City of Bones, Clary Fray, Jack Reacher, repost, things bad movies taught me about writing, things x taught me about writing, Tom Cruise, writing, writing tips

Pictured: Tom Cruise, the most miscast book character since That Chick from Divergent.

(Author’s Note: This is actually a rare re-post of a blog I wrote back in 2013 shortly after sitting through the exhausting, disappointing Jack Reacher. It is two years old, but since I also just sat through the absolutely abysmal Chappie, I felt it necessary and relevant to post this blog. Please enjoy.)

So I just watched Jack Reacher last night because my parents claimed it was alright.

It was not.

And that is an understatement.

However, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve seen a hair-tearingly stupid movie. I have also subjected myself to A Good Day to Die Hard and RIPD this year. Yes, yes, I should have known better, but when you’re wrong, you’re dead wrong. Still, every horrible experience I’ve had sitting in a theater has taught me something.

Respect your audience’s time. Specifically, I am referring to pacing a story. Jack Reacher had abysmal pacing. For instance, the first five or six minutes of the film has absolutely no dialogue. I have seen movies where this is effective and sets the mood. In this particular film, it felt pretentious and exhausting. It didn’t enhance the evil nature of the bad guy and it didn’t make the character we were introduced to seem intelligent or quirky. It was just boring and unnecessary. Pacing means that the events of your story glide into each other, whether it’s a romantic scene followed by a violent scene, a violent scene followed by a humorous exchange, an action scene followed by a quiet denouement, or any combination of different sequences. If at any point during your movie, a non-idiotic audience member checks his/her watch, something is deeply wrong. This is not to say that everything should be fast and hectic—that was one of the main pitfalls Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga’Hoole—but you have to spend time on things that matter and omit things that aren’t relevant to them.

Write good characters and we can pretty much sit through anything. Think about ten of your favorite films off the top of your head. How many of them have premises that are absurd if explained out loud? I know plenty of mine do. However, if you write enjoyable or relatable characters, your audience won’t care that the plot is silly. Perfect example: Clive Owen’s hysterical action flick Shoot ‘Em Up. About 99% of what happened in that movie was physically impossible and utterly ridiculous. Why did I love it? Commitment, man. Clive Owen nailed every single one-liner with his perfect deadpan expression and I adored his character—carrot chewing, cynicism, and all. What’s the reverse of this effect? A great plot with horrible characters. We’ve all seen it before. Hell, I can rattle off examples with ease: My Super Ex-Girlfriend, Push, Jumper, The Last Stand, and RIPD. In my personal opinion, those movies had plots that sounded interesting that were executed horribly. Some of them failed for several reasons, but the common element is unlikable characters. Jack Reacher had this problem as well. There were exactly two types of characters: morons and douchebags. Some were a combination of both. Terrible writing will strangle a great concept in its crib and you’ll be left there weeping. Many writers advise to build a novel, script, or short story from the character outward. I agree completely. We have to like the guy or gal we’re riding piggyback with or nothing will pan out.

Commit. I have an entire laundry list of awful movies that I love with full awareness that they are awful. I am able to freely admit this because 90% of the bad films I enjoy committed to their premise or their characters. For instance, my number one guiltiest pleasure of all time is Hudson Hawk. No, no, don’t close your browser yet! Let me explain. I love Hudson Hawk, if only because everyone—and I mean, everyone—in that silly mess of a film committed to that incomprehensible, ludicrous script of theirs. They just nailed it. No one half-assed any of their scenes and so the movie turned into the beautiful butterfly of horribleness as a result. To me, nothing is worse than being mediocre or half-hearted. I’ve read plenty of books in time and the ones that frustrate me the most are the ones that don’t commit to an idea.

I try not to name examples, but the main offender on my list is ‘City of Bones’. Great concept, great conflict, great world building, but one truly half-assed main character. I just couldn’t get into it even though I liked Jace and Simon and the other Shadow Hunters just fine. Clary was a loaf of Wal-Mart brand bread to me—bland, dry, and forgettable. This is not to say the books are bad. Not in the least. I actually think the writing is quite good and I recommend them with no remorse, but that series is something I can never get into because I feel like the author didn’t commit to making Clary a distinct protagonist. I believe this is possibly the most important part of the writing process—setting the main character apart from her supporting cast and from characters outside of the novel itself. I am the first person to slam the ‘Twilight’ novels, but at least Bella Swan was her own person. True, she was a perfectly repugnant person, but she was still an individual and no one can really replicate her. (Though E.L. James tried her damnedest.)

Weak villains will kill your story. Not physically weak villains, mind you. Villains who aren’t threatening are also something that makes me want to kick puppies. Jack Reacher was definitely guilty of this. Mr. Potato Head—sorry, Jai Courtney—was kind of intimidating if only for being a cold-blooded sniper, but his “boss” was the least scary villain I’ve seen in ages. Oh, gee, he has one blind eye and no fingers! Bring me my brown pants! Building up a good villain is one of the most important parts to a story because otherwise, your protagonist—no matter how charming and funny and cool—will have no dragon to slay. Winning an unwinnable war is what makes someone a hero, whether that war is literal or not. Creating a slimy, obsequious villain is essential to draw a line in the sand and make the stakes as real as they can ever get. Want an example of what happens when you don’t do that? The Happening. ‘Nuff said.

Kyoko

Things Justified Taught Me About Writing

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : January 19, 2015

Category: Things X Taught Me About Writing

Tags:blog post, fx, fx justified, justified, raylan givens, things justified taught me about writing, things x taught me about writing, timothy olyphant, writing, writing advice

If you’re not watching Justified, you need to reevaluate your life goals. It is by far one of the best, most consistently good shows on television, and after six awesome seasons (including the one starting this week), it’s finally saying goodbye. For that reason, I’m pouring one out to my long-legged, drawling, whip-smart, deathly sarcastic, eternally troubled badass modern cowboy, Marshal Raylan Givens.

First, a brief introduction: Justified tells the tale of Raylan (Timothy Olyphant), a Kentucky-born U.S. marshal who is a living, breathing modern cowboy. He was chasing down criminals in Florida before he faced off with a crime boss in a crowded restaurant. The crime boss pulled his gun and Raylan shot him in full view of the public, prompting a huge investigation that got him into so much trouble he was reassigned to his hometown. Harlan County, the area where his new jurisdiction covers, is absolutely teeming with all kinds of criminals from prostitution rings to drug dealers. Raylan is put under the supervision of Art Mullen (Nick Searchy), and works alongside fellow Marshals Rachel Brooks (Erica Tazel) and Tim Gutterson (Jacob Pitt), whom he has friction with at first but they soon get along.

Meanwhile, things start to get heated when Boyd Crowder (Walt Goggins) blows up a church and makes trouble for his former brother’s wife, Ava Crowder (Joelle Carter) when he finds out she killed him with a shotgun in his own home. Raylan and Boyd grew up together as teenagers, so Raylan is assigned to get him under control, kill him, or bring him in. Raylan’s life also gets even more tangled up as he crosses paths with his former wife Winona (Natalie Zea), a court stenographer, who remarried but they both still show signs of being attracted to each other.

Sound juicy enough for ya? Well, let’s dive in. Spoilers ahead, as always.

Sharp dialogue can be the most effective way to get your work noticed. Justified has a lot of unique things going for it, but what I’ve always considered to be this show’s most valuable asset is the dialogue. The stuff that comes out of these characters’ mouths is nothing short of genius. When Raylan, Art, Rachel, and Tim get in a room together, you don’t need violent criminals to have a good time. These four engage in the most intensely awesome snarkfests you will see in your natural born life. The relationships they’ve built over the years make for some of the best scenes you have the privilege of watching, especially Art and Raylan, who are equally exasperated with each other but still see the value of one another. If you need the highlights, check out the Crowning Moment of Funny page on Tvtropes.

It’s more than just humor, though. Justified has made a name for itself by carving out beautifully intricate characters through words alone. Boyd Crowder would be just like any other drug dealing crime boss if it weren’t for that legendary silver tongue and trademark drawl. He’s constantly cool under pressure and unlike 80% of the criminal underbelly of Harlan county, he uses his brain to get out of scrapes more than he uses a gun.

Similarly, Raylan’s biggest asset is that he just flat out pays attention and listens to the things around him. That is why he’s such an unbelievable marshal who nearly always gets his man. He knows how to manipulate bad guys and how to either talk them down or trick them into giving him the info he needs.

This is tricky for writers. Every author, and aspiring author, has strengths and weaknesses. Some of us are awesome at dialogue. Others are awesome at descriptions, diction, spinning whimsical plots, or creating imaginative worlds. Stick to what you’re good at, but also remember that great dialogue from your characters can set them apart, whether it’s humorous or poignant or terrifying or heartwarming. It also adds extra layers to their personality if they have a particular speech pattern or a quirk, like how in my series Belial insists on calling Jordan “my pet” just to work her nerve, and gives these grand overblown Hannibal Lecter-esque speeches just because he likes the sound of his own voice. Make the words coming out of their mouths matter and make them work for you, not against you.

Know the durability of your villains. One of the things that I’ve always loved about Justified is that they always pick a season-long villain to antagonize the marshals. This is a brilliant tactic because it allows us to get the full scope of someone without allowing them to drag along forever like Percy from Nikita or Abbadon from Supernatural. We get to see what kind of threat the villains present, why they need to be stopped, what their strengths and weaknesses are, and what their hubris is if they have one (which they typically do because they are human.)

My personal favorite villain thus far has been Mags Bennett (Margo Martindale) because for me, she’s the most layered and three-dimensional villain of the show. Mags actually had good sides to her, even though we find out she’s incredibly ruthless and scary. Hell, Mags was so amazing the role won Martindale an Emmy, and for good reason. She was expertly used and executed, and by far the best female character in the show’s entire run.

Conversely, Justified is a bit guilty of overusing their villains too. Dickie Bennett (Jeremy Davies), Mags’ wretched son, is still alive and kicking when he wore out his welcome by the end of season two. He’s a despicable coward, but yet he’s somehow managed to hold on to his life despite Raylan having every single reason to wipe that slime off the face of the earth. Thankfully, though, Dickie was downgraded to a minor character in the recent seasons, so while his presence still induces headaches, it’s tolerable.

Managing your villains properly is a hard trick to master as an author. You can’t look at it on a case-by-case basis. You have to unfurl your villain like a scroll and consider both the short and long term effects of their presence in the narrative. If you make their presence too short, then readers question why they were there in the first place. If you make their presence too long, then readers can get fatigued with them. I can freely admit one of the biggest struggles in writing the upcoming Black Parade novel The Holy Dark is that I had a villain who just wouldn’t fall into the category of major or minor character. It took me forever to figure it out because there were so many possibilities. It’s important to remember that nothing bogs a story down faster than a boring impervious villain who lasts longer than they should. You have to know when to fold ‘em.

Make your characters earn their keep. Alright, I’m going to get a little salty for this lesson—I f*@king hate Ava Crowder. I won’t launch into my 3,000 word essay about why, but if you’re curious enough, watch the following video (skip ahead to 12:35). I’m sure people would debate with me why she’s supposedly a good character, but the number one reason I can’t stand Ava is because she isn’t an independent character who pulls her own weight. Almost everything in this show just conveniently gets Ava out of a fix rather than her getting herself out of her own problems.

For instance, her introduction is killing Boyd’s brother with a shotgun after years of abuse. Look, fine, I understand that because domestic violence is pretty much the worst, but he was an unarmed man sitting at a dinner table eating and she shot him. In damn near any other case, Ava’s ass would have gone to jail, but no, she doesn’t. She gets off scot-free, which irritated me when I began the show, but I let it slide with the hope that she would give me a definitive reason why she was taking up time on my TV screen. She then enters a borderline creepy relationship with Boyd, which again annoyed me but whatever she clearly had bad taste in men to begin with, but what tears it is that Ava is basically just coasting off of Boyd’s reputation. She’s his lackey, except she gets to sleep with him and pretend that she’s his lieutenant. They keep up this disgustingly long pretense of being in love and wanting to buy a home and get married until finally the season four finale has Ava being apprehended in possession of a dead body and she’s sent to jail. Finally, Ava will prove she’s worth a damn, right?

Ava gets in jail and immediately gets help from Boyd, even though it later backfires. Then she gets mad that he can’t find a way to help her, so she breaks up with him and starts to learn the pecking order in the prison. It turns out they have a drug ring inside the prison and the guards are in on it in exchange for sex. The girls play along, but Ava—who is such a hypocrite because she ran a whorehouse herself before getting in jail—is too good to trade sex for status and rebuffs a guard. She tries to make a deal with the local nurse to get the product in and out of the jailhouse, but the guard she rejected frames her for attacking him. She is later saved by someone Boyd hired to watch over her. Then, Ava decides to take out the head of the drug ring so she can be the queen bee and it turns out it’s some elderly woman. And they get in a fight. And the elderly woman kicks Ava’s ass for a while before she finally stabs her to death. The woman’s followers suspect Ava and she’s all but tied her own noose because half the prison now wants her dead.

And then the entire season-long subplot is rendered pointless because Raylan gets her out of jail so she can tattle on Boyd to finally send him up the river. That’s right. After an entire season of her skating by on pure dumb luck, she is Deus Ex Machina’d out of trouble. Yep.

There is little worse than making someone a main character and then letting them constantly get away with everything with few relevant consequences. People are flawed, yes, but bailing a character out over and over again is the quickest way to make your readers dislike them. Not everyone needs to be a badass, but they all need to earn their keep and solve as many problems as they create. This is part of what authors mean when they say “kill your darlings.” It refers to more than getting rid of pieces of your work that you like but isn’t relevant to the overall story. It means push your characters off that pedestal they are on and force them to be worth your readers’ time. You can’t babysit them. Make them matter.

Don’t forget to just plain have fun. I am about to introduce the most brilliant moment ever put to television thanks to Justified. If you take nothing else away from this blog post, then you must do me the one favor of indulging me while I set up the best scene in the entire series, and in any series if you ask me.

In our fifth season, we’re introduced to Dewey Crowe’s family—a bunch of horrible, ignorant, slimy, back-stabbing guttersnipes who come up from Florida after they find out Dewey has come into some money thanks to suing the marshal service (long story.) They pressure and bully Dewey into sharing the wealth, and in doing so, cross Raylan and the marshals’ paths as they try to get a foothold on the crime syndicate in Harlan county. The Crowes are led by Darryl Crowe (Michael Rappaport), and consist of his sister Wendy (Alicia Witt) and his unbelievably stupid brother Danny (A.J Buckley).

Danny has been an incredible thorn in the side of everyone he meets for just being stupid as a bucket of shrimp, a coward, and a bully all in one. He bullies Wendy’s son, Kendal, in front of one of their dangerous allies Jean Baptiste (Edi Gathegi), who challenges him to either leave the kid alone or face off with him. Danny shoots him in the back and then threatens to kill Kendal if he tells anyone, and then tries to kill Kendal after he accidentally lets Danny’s beloved pit bull run off and get hit by a car.

At the end of the season, Raylan finally tracks Danny down to try and get him to lead him to Darryl. Danny decides to have a showdown with sharpshooter Raylan by setting up the 21-foot rule, a legend where a person with a knife is good enough to take someone with a gun within 21 steps of each other.

The result is the most glorious thing ever created ever. Please enjoy.

Reportedly, this scene was so amazing that Timothy Olyphant himself simply could not stop laughing in between takes because it is by far the most satisfying villain death ever made. When this happened live, my mother and I both jumped straight up off the couch and gave it a standing ovation for over a minute. You just have to have fun when opportunities like this present themselves. Justified went for it and they knocked it straight out of the park. True, you do need a bit more context to fully appreciate why the aforementioned scene is perfection, but nothing beats just having fun in your work.

No matter what the genre, it’s important to have fun with your writing. You have to love it. You have to put yourself inside it and make your readers turn those pages, the way that Justified is so good it practically demands me to watch it. Be audacious. Be bold. Do risky things or edgy things and make the pay off so great that people are excited to share it with each other. Even if you’re not Stephen King, you have the ability to gain readership by making your work an experience they cannot get elsewhere.

I’m super nervous about how Justified will end—after all, this is FX we’re talking about and they don’t pull their punches—but I’m so glad for the ride. It truly has been a show that no one can touch. It has its own voice and style and I will miss it sorely after it’s gone. If you’re curious, tune in Tuesdays at 10 o’clock pm EST. See you, cowboy.

Things The Colbert Report Taught Me About Writing

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : December 9, 2014

Category: Things X Taught Me About Writing

Tags:barack obama, comedy central, fiction, Katniss Everdeen, stephen colbert, the colbert report, the hunger games, writing, writing advice, writing blog

Pictured: the most adorable man in all of late night TV. No offense, Craig Ferguson.

It’s a dark time in America because everyone’s favorite political satirist pundit, Stephen Tiberius Colbert, is ending his show December 18, 2014. The good news is that he’s ending the show in order to take over David Letterman’s late night talk show, but it does mean saying goodbye to the character of Stephen Colbert. In his honor, here are some things that his show has taught me since I began watching back in 2008.

Go big or go home. Everything about Colbert is always big, loud, and over-the-top. Last night took this idea to new heights when he had the President of the United States, Barack Obama himself, appear on the show and not only give a great interview, but actually take over one of Colbert’s most famous segments, The Word (changing of course to The Decree because he’s the goddamn president.) Colbert does nothing in moderation, and it’s one of the reasons why he’s been charging past Jon Stewart in terms of notoriety. He’s had a plethora of amazing guests, absolutely hysterical interviews, several historical impacts on pop culture (he has his portrait in the Smithsonian, he’s had newly discovered species named after him, and even has a treadmill in the space station named after him), and he never lets himself be bested. One of his more famous moments was after he was scheduled to interview Daft Punk and they canceled on him last minute, he then launched into a musical bonanza cover of their smash hit “Get Lucky” with a ton of guests like Bryan Cranston, Matt Damon, and Jimmy Fallon just to stick it to Daft Punk and MTV for snubbing him.

Colbert’s example is applicable to writing in that it’s important not to half-ass anything in your work. If you’re afraid of a certain subject, then either charge forward full steam ahead or don’t do it at all. Often I’ve read stories where characters are wishy-washy or you can tell the author wants to bring something up, but they can’t find it in themselves to make a decision. This trait happens most often with romantic couples in fiction, like Ross and Rachel from Friends, where the writers are indecisive about a relationship or think they should drag it out as long as possible to keep the audience’s interest. Being decisive in writing is essential to keep your readers’ attention and to put your highest quality of work on the pages instead of fretting over things you feel like you should avoid. Be bold. Be fearless. If you’re going to go there, don’t just go there—go there, buy a t-shirt, take a selfie, and post it on Facebook.

The character is not the same as the author, and vice versa. One of the most consistently stupid things associated with the Colbert Report is that some people don’t realize he is a parody character. There have been so many times where I’ll see a post of someone ranting about Colbert’s ignorance and offensive opinions like he is a real person and not political satire. It’s probably the same idiots who fall for the fake news headlines that The Onion makes every day, but I digress.

Stephen Colbert and Stephen Colbert are not the same guy. When the camera’s on, we get a hilariously rigid conservative who trusts only his gut and anything that his idol “Papa Bear” Bill O’Reilly has to say. Off-camera, though, Stephen is actually a nice, fiercely intelligent husband and father. When he’s not on the Report, he often gives speeches (like the famous 2006 White House Correspondent’s Dinner) and is a social and political activist. He truly does believe in the people and he wants the best for us, so it’s important that people realize that he is playing a character and there is a separation between the two men that he is.

A lot of authors, especially female authors, get flack for something their character does that the readers disagree with, so it’s important to acknowledge that writers are artists. We craft stories. That doesn’t mean we condone everything that happens in them unless it’s expressed in our blog or social media. It can be hard to make that distinction when you’ve spent a whole novel getting to know their characters, but good authors make it clear in their work that it’s the character’s decisions that drive the narrative, not their own agendas. It’s always easy to tell when the author wants something to happen instead of it happening naturally in the context of their own world because it feels forced, like an invisible hand turning the page for you rather than letting you get there on your own. It may take a while to learn how to let the story flow, but it’s worth it.

Challenge authority. One of the reasons I like Colbert better than Jon Stewart is that he’s more balanced. He’s a parody of conservatives, but he also makes fun of everyone in every political party instead of just heaping contempt on one side of the fence. Hell, some of his best lines have been over-the-top shots at President Obama (I once recall him accusing him of being a “time-traveling Muslim terrorist.”) Everyone is open season when it comes to Colbert, even his own network and sponsors, and that’s how it should be. He isn’t afraid to criticize the powers that be and bring up excellent commentary on unfair policies, hypocritical pundits, lousy news reporting, and questionable or unethical behavior by those who run this country.

This is also absolutely important in the world of writing, both in fiction and non-fiction. One of the reasons why The Hunger Games is so popular is because it boldly criticizes some of the things that are happening in our society today, from revolutions and war to the way the media is so willing to cover up horrible crimes by distracting its audience with a forced love story. The films are also unnervingly prophetic, as advertisers have been trying to force every sort of product you can imagine out of the franchise. Subway had a tagline for Catching Fire, “Where victors eat” that made me want to tear my hair out because it was ludicrous considering the story is about starving children forced to murder each other so their families won’t die. Sure, that lends itself perfectly to a five dollar footlong. Or how ABC Family just started running the first movie on their channel; you know, the channel most parents used to be able to leave on for their kids because the material was family friendly. Yes, please show children violently killing each other thanks to a totalitarian government to my six year old. Brilliant marketing.

Anyway, The Hunger Games challenges the government’s tendency to manipulate everything we see for their own purposes, and that is definitely the truth not only in America, but in every country. Authors should never be afraid to speak up about injustice, even if it’s not as overt as The Hunger Games trilogy.

It also doesn’t have to stick to politics. A lot of self-published authors have been rising in the bestsellers ranks and making a point to the Big Six publishers that they aren’t the only way to go in the publishing world. Too many companies still look down on indie authors, and while neither method of publishing is better than the other, it should be seen as a fair trade. Both ways have benefits and consequences, but right now, traditional publishing is still seen as being more ‘legitimate’ while many indie authors are stuck underneath a glass ceiling. The tension between the two will probably dissipate years from now, but until then, authors need to ask questions and search for facts and be unafraid to get answers.

Fact checking is your friend. How many jokes per segment of any given Colbert Report episode is devoted to showing a politician who has zero facts and yet feels qualified to give their opinion on a current event? Go ahead, guess. I’ll wait. It’s impossible to tell because thanks to the 24-hour news circuits, pundits, interviewers, celebrities, and politicians are constantly letting the most ignorant statements and opinions fly out of their mouths with no regard for research, mathematics, or facts. At some point, journalism was about finding the truth and sharing it, but too many news channels are concerned about ratings and sensational news, so they let simple facts fall to the wayside. The good news is, though, The Colbert Report is there to make fun of them to the ends of the earth.

Research is tedious. There is nothing that can change that, not even Wikipedia. But it’s not just necessary if you’re an author—it’s mandatory. No matter what kind of story you write and no matter what the genre, you will need to do research. If you write epic or high fantasy, sure, the proportion of research might be smaller, but it is 100% mandatory to do research before you publish any work. If you don’t have a notepad, Word document, or slab of concrete full of notes that have been fact-checked by an academic source, then don’t you dare hit that Publish button. Nothing is worse than reading a book and being able to open a tab in your Internet browser and immediately prove that what happened was false or wildly inaccurate. Some readers don’t mind if the truth is bent or slanted, or if your work is based on theory, but if you expect them to pay for your work, you need to have actually done it. Otherwise, the critics will come after you with torches and pitchforks and you’re done for.

Trust your gut. One of Colbert’s biggest achievements was the creation of the word “truthiness” (which was officially added to the Webster’s Dictionary, to my endless amusement): “the quality of seeming or being felt to be true, even if not necessarily true.” Colbert insists that he doesn’t need facts because he asks his gut whether something feels true or not. While amusing, he does have a point.

An author’s instincts are key in determining where they are going to go with a particular story, and where they are going to go in their career. There are so many possibilities involved with this career that they can get overwhelming, and some find themselves panicking over choices to make. Take it from Colbert. Trust your gut. Trust the strongest, loudest voice in your head as long as it lines up with what you feel in your gut. This may mean taking a huge risk with a character or a story arc. This may mean deleting one of your favorite scenes or erasing a character out of the narrative. It can mess up what you thought you wanted, but if it makes your work better, then you are bound by authorly honor to do it. If it feels true to the story, then do it. Accept no substitutes.

It’s going to be hard to say goodbye to Colbert after so many years of laughter, but all good things must come to an end. Here’s to you, Colbert. It’s been real.

-Kyoko

Things The Dresden Files Taught Me About Writing

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : September 15, 2014

Category: Things X Taught Me About Writing

Tags:fiction, harry blackstone copperfield dresden, harry dresden, jim butcher, jordan amador, karrin murphy, michael carpenter, molly carpenter, she who fights monsters, the black parade, the dresden files, things the dresden files taught me about writing, things x taught me about writing, thomas raith, urban fantasy, writing

No love potions, please.

If you are not reading The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher, slap yourself in the face right now.

Then go buy the whole series and neglect your real life for the next 72 hours while you read them.

I’ve read a ton of books in my lifetime, but honestly, this series is by far the best thing I’ve read so far. And I’m not trying to blow smoke up Jim Butcher’s ass now that I’ve met him. I’m dead serious. For years, I only read a couple books here and there, and then my brother let me read Storm Front. I haven’t loved a book series that much since the Redwall series by the late great Brian Jacques. The Dresden Files have everything I love about fiction all rolled into one, but it’s also an excellent series to use as a teaching tool to newbie authors like me, and not just those who write urban fantasy. Allow me to explain how Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden has made me a better writer (I think).

Write honestly. So if you know nothing about Harry Dresden, then let me tell you that there’s a reason he’s a bestselling character. You know all those smooth-talking, handsome, sexy, absurdly powerful P.I. characters you read about or see in films? Yeah, that’s not Harry. He’s awkward. Like, seriously awkward. He’s absolutely terrible with women—as in talking to them about anything vaguely romantic or sexual, or noticing when they find him attractive. He’s completely dense about the fairer sex and it takes him ages to get over his instinctive ‘gentlemanly’ schtick as he starts to realize the bad guys are exploiting his nice guy nature. He is also underpaid, underfed, and an unrepentant dork of the Lord of the Rings and Star Wars variety. Harry Dresden is not the ideal man you’d think of when you think ‘bestselling urban fantasy main character.’

And that’s why he works.

Harry Dresden is the kind of guy you’d meet, aside from being a wizard. This is where the ‘write honestly’ part comes in. Harry, to me, is someone you could run into at some point in your life—someone who is modest and genuinely nice but also is a complete smartass to make up for his lack of self-confidence. He’s self-sacrificing to a fault, and he has real internal struggles that make him so very easy to understand and root for. He spends much of the series simply trying to survive in this world of nasty supernatural beasties, and the reason why he’s so popular is because he’s an atypical protagonist. Urban fantasy tends to have confident, sexy, alpha male characters, and while Harry has a small streak of alpha male in him, that’s not who he is. He is perfectly happy blending into the background and supporting his friends and family whenever possible. He doesn’t run around looking for trouble.

Authenticity can be one of the most powerful weapons for a writer. Sure, it’s nice to read about a badass character who is the kind of person we all wish we were, but I think the reason the Dresden Files series is so successful is because Jim Butcher chose another direction entirely. Harry feels genuine. He feels like an honest character, someone you could bump into at a bookstore or at a Burger King (which is far more likely). I think they will stand the test of time much longer than the sensationalized ones that hit mega-fame for just being attractive or brazen.

Support your main character with the best and brightest. If for some insane reason you don’t immediately fall in love with Harry like I did, there’s good news. Harry’s friends (and later family) are some of the best written characters out there. You can’t spit without hitting an awesome supporting character in the Dresden Files (who will consequently kick your ass for spitting on them). You’ve got Karrin Murphy, Harry’s best friend (and girlfriend-in-denial), a Chicago detective; Thomas Raith, a White Court vampire and Harry’s casual acquaintance who later becomes more (don’t wanna spoil it, it’s worth the reveal); Waldo Butters, a coroner and part-time unofficial physician when Harry’s dumb lanky ass gets hurt; Michael Carpenter, a Knight of the Cross armed with an archangel’s sword; Molly Carpenter, Harry’s apprentice who is a Perky Goth with a bit of a crush on her mentor; and Bob the Skull, an air spirit of infinite knowledge who is British and also a total pervert. Those are just the main supporting protagonists. I’m not even naming other recurring characters and the long, long list of Harry’s enemies.

The thing that’s so great about these characters is that their lives don’t revolve around Harry, which is something that a lot of other authors make mistakes with on occasion. Harry usually tries to keep to himself, but he’s such a great and lovable guy that he attracts other people to him naturally. He’d rather stab himself in the groin than endanger his loved ones, but the good thing is, his friends all know he’s like that and ignore him and help him out anyway. They have their own set of personality traits and flaws and agendas, and they all work towards keeping Harry alive and kicking, but they also aren’t afraid to keep him in check. As the series progresses, Harry comes into his own and gathers quite a bit of power and abilities, and his friends are very aware that power corrupts. He’s a good man and always has been, but he’s also quite oblivious to things around him that change him unconsciously.

Writing great supporting characters is tough. One can tend to get laser-focused on the main lead and forget that other people have their own lives too, and the Dresden Files is one of those rare series that remembers that we are only seeing pieces of the tapestry. You have to step back to appreciate the whole thing, and each character is like a new color on that tapestry. If you just have white and black, you might not get that big of a crowd, but if you’ve chosen your colors well, then your chances of making it into a galleria are far better.

The main character is not Jesus. What I mean by ‘Jesus’ is that he or she is not going to be perfect, and if they are, you’d better knock them off that pedestal stat. As I mentioned in my first point, Harry is awkward and starts off with this archaic issue of always having to save or protect women he meets, but there are deeper issues inside him as well. It takes a bit to get him riled up, but Harry’s temper definitely gets him into a lot of trouble, and he is fiercely protective of women and children even after he gets over his chivalry problems. His enemies have noted how Harry can get if you push the right buttons, and he is far less pragmatic when he’s angry than when he’s calm.

Anyone who actually has read the Dresden Files knows what I’m getting at. The main reason I decided to write this blog post was to discuss the idea that your main character, at some point in your storyline, needs to screw up royally and ruin everything. And boy, does Harry do that in Changes, and then some.

I won’t reveal what Harry does, but let me just say that the ending to Changes was so traumatic that I (a) literally SLAPPED the book after I was done reading it (b) I was so affected by Harry’s choices that I couldn’t even pick up the next book and read it for two whole months (c) I tried to read the next book and couldn’t because I was still too upset and (d) I skipped to Cold Days just to alleviate my pain. While it was hell for me, this is exactly what should have happened.

I love Harry. I love him more than I loved a book character in my entire life. And he does something so stupid that I had to take a break from my beloved wizard to deal with it. I’ve never had such a strong reaction to a book before, and it took me a while to realize it wasn’t a bad thing. As an author, I want my readers to love my characters and want the best for them, but it’s also important to frustrate your readers and cause them to be at odds with the main character if you want to do more than simply entertain them. I think successful long-running series are the ones that get beneath your skin, and nothing does that better than seeing your favorite character do something that ruins their own life, especially if it’s because they had no choice. Harry didn’t have much of a choice for what he does in Changes, and that’s why it was a gamble. I’m sure a lot of readers couldn’t take that amount of pain and decided to quit. It was by far the most controversial ending in the series’ run. But, in my opinion, it was worth it for the pay off.

If you’ve read She Who Fights Monsters, you’ll see that I subscribe heartily to the ‘your character is not Jesus’ mentality. Jordan Amador is a flawed woman and she makes some seriously questionable decisions that will (and already have) piss off readers. The tricky part is making your readers have an emotion, even a negative one, but not pushing them to the point where they give up. Inevitably, some of them will, and that’s sad, but it’s also the risk you must take in order to grow. If you keep your character in a safe little bubble-wrapped box, they can’t grow. They will never grow unless you let all the bad stuff in to force them to toughen up and learn a lesson and become better. I think an author needs to be sadistic at least once in their series (and I literally told Jim Butcher as much when I met him, and he guffawed and gave me an evil smile and a facetious, “Oh, I’m sorry!”) in order to make a character to last through the ages.

I’ve gone on pretty long about this series, so let me simply say this: the Dresden Files is an incredible run with a character who is too lovable for words, but what one should take away from this is that it has a little bit of everything: laughter, heart-wrenching sorrow, action, adventure, mystery, and horror. For me, this series is the first that I’ve read that has an actual soul. It wasn’t written to make a quick buck. It was real and solid and you can feel it when you’re reading any one of the many books. I can’t recommend it hard enough, to be honest, because it’s what I consider to be a game-changer. If you want to learn more about good writing and taking risks, give it a read.

Parkour, bitch.

-Kyoko

Things Batman Taught Me About Writing

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : April 7, 2014

Category: Inspiration, Things X Taught Me About Writing

In honor of the Dark Knight’s 75th anniversary, I figured I’d take some time out to show what the Caped Crusader and his world have done for me as an author.

I know what you’re thinking.

“What does a 6’2’’ billionaire playboy who dresses up as a winged rat to fight hoodlums have in common with the prestigious institution known as writing?”

Well, if you’ll calm your mammary glands for an instant, I’ll explain. You see, I’ve been writing my entire life. If I have learned one thing, it is this—writing comes from inspiration. No one ever said that inspiration is conventional. So ignore what your mother told you about talking to strangers and listen to me for a moment while I attempt to explain how Bruce Wayne may be one of the best teachers in the writing field to date.

Darkness is multifaceted and interesting. Let me clarify—I do not believe that all heroes and heroines must be dark. Every protagonist does not need to be a tortured soul with loads of self-hatred and PTSD. Hell, some of the best heroes out there thrive because of their optimism. However, there is a reason why Christopher Nolan’s ‘The Dark Knight’ is the fourth highest grossing film of all time in the states. People want to see the ugly part of the soul. They crave it. All of the horrific things that have happened to Bruce from birth to his current state in the movies, comic books, and animated world are what make him so fascinating. He walks the line between good and evil every single night he patrols. For years, writers and readers have questioned whether Batman will ever become that which he fights against and we are compelled to follow his story because he continues not to give in.

It is possible to relate to unrelatable characters. I know, that sounds like a drunken 3AM tweet, but let me elaborate. Most likely, you were drawn to this article because of its absurd title. I mean, how the hell can we relate to a highly successful crime-fighter with gadgets and cool cars and hot women coming out the wazoo? Well, Captain Cynical, I’ll tell you how. Batman is not so different from you and me.

As Batman is compelled to protect the innocent, so are we writers compelled to slam our fingertips against stupid plastic keys and somehow make stories come out. We are unable to stop it. For example, Batman has tried to quit several times in the comic books and even in the animated world (See: ‘Batman: Mask of the Phantasm’ and ‘Batman Beyond.’) Writers know what that’s like. To stare into the empty abyss of a Word document, throw up your hands, and watch six hours worth of ‘Supernatural’ after swearing to never write again. Then eight hours later, we’re sitting in front of the same document, cursing profusely and writing anyway. Makes sense now, doesn’t it?

The villains are just as important as the main character. Batman is a mainstay in our culture not only because he’s a badass but because he (debatably) has the most memorable villains of any comic book character. Without going to Wikipedia, name as many Batman badguys as you can. I’ll wait. I bet you a quarter you were able to name at least five of them. (And cough up that money, man, I’ve got bills.) Why does that matter? Because the villains define the hero. No one wants a boring villain with nothing to offer our frothing imaginations.

Each villain represents some part of Batman, whether he realizes it or not. Batman represents justice so the Joker represents chaos, as ‘The Dark Knight’ so eloquently put it. Each of these bad boy and girls tempt Batman to break his no kill rule when he faces them and he becomes a better man each time he does not give in. It is the same with heroes in any given story. Compelling writing comes from an author digging deep and finding the one insecurity that could destroy the protagonist and then handing it to the villain in a gift basket. Preferably with wine and cheese.

In conclusion, Batman may have more to offer you than a great action flick or epic page-turner, as long as you’re willing to keep your mind open.

(And seriously, gimme that quarter.)

-Kyoko

Things Nikita Taught Me About Writing

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : January 2, 2014

Category: Things X Taught Me About Writing

Tags:Alexandra Udinov, La Femme Nikita, Maggie Q, Michael Bishop, Nikita, Nikita Mears, Ryan Fletcher, Seymour Birkhoff, Shane West, the CW

There are two kinds of people in this world. People who find this hot and liars.

First things first: Happy New Year!

This past Friday, I unfortunately had to say goodbye to one of my absolute favorite television shows. Nikita is a spy thriller show on the CW, and one of the only good things on that entire channel. It’s by no stretch perfect, as I will elaborate on in just a moment, but it was one of the most atypical shows on that particular network. The CW typically panders to the teenage girl demographic, and Nikita was a fresh breath of air for all four seasons. I’d like to honor its memory by discussing the things in the show that helped me as a writer.

Massive spoilers ahead. Ye be warned.

Beware the Mary Sue. For the non-writers out there, a “Mary Sue” is an original character who is poorly written and exemplifies traits of an inexperienced writer who doesn’t understand how to make a character three dimensional. Mary Sue characters are often the most beautiful, funniest, quirkiest, smartest, and powerful among any of the people around them. They are written like goddesses and most of the time, the other characters either irrationally hate them in order to serve as a foil for how “awesome” they are, or everyone loves them and constantly praises them. This term is thrown around too often in the fiction and fanfiction world, especially if said character is based on the author, but it’s still an important mainstay in the writing world for a reason.

Nikita managed to avert the Mary Sue character with one character and then embodied it with another. Here’s the skinny, in case you skipped the 1990 original film (La Femme Nikita by Luc Besson) that the show is loosely based on: Nikita Mears was a drug addict who killed a cop and was sentenced to death. However, after her faked lethal injection, she woke up in an underground facility in the hands of a covert government agency called Division, headed by Percy, Amanda, and Michael, respectively. They take felons with the death sentence, rehabilitate them, and turn them into undercover spies and assassins to do the U.S. government’s dirty work off the books. After getting clean, Nikita quickly became Division’s best agent, but she eventually fell in love with a guy named Daniel. Relationships with outsiders are forbidden, so Division killed Daniel and Nikita broke out and swore revenge. She recruits a young girl named Alexandra Udinov to infiltrate Division and help her tear it to the ground.

Nikita has all the makings of a Mary Sue—an absurd wealth of beauty, a sharp tactical mind, bad ass martial arts skills, fluency in several languages, and genuinely a good heart—but the show recognized what makes a great character and instead made her three dimensional. For instance, Nikita’s biggest character flaw is that she has a serious guilt complex. There have been plenty of missions she failed or battles she lost because she is so obsessed with saving everyone that even one loss is beyond her comprehension. She also has deep rooted self-esteem issues brought on by the darkness inside her that Division cultivated and brought out of her in her earlier years. The reason why she’s such a fantastic leading lady is that she often questions her own actions, has doubts and fears, and makes mistakes that affect herself and her team. She is a loner, but she also falls in love with the second-in-command at Division, Michael, and spends the entire first season trying to get him to see the error of his ways. Nikita is self-sacrificing to a fault and the show does a wonderful job showing the repercussions of making decisions for other people instead of trusting them.

On the other hand, Alex is the biggest Mary Sue I’ve seen on television in ages. Her backstory reeks of bad writing. For instance, her father was a Russian arms dealer and head of a multimillion dollar company. Division stormed his manor to kill him and his family, but Nikita couldn’t bring herself to shoot Alex in cold blood so she saved her and ran away from Division. Alex constantly screws up missions in the first season, but she always avoids “cancellation” (which is what Division does if an agent doesn’t get with the program) through incredibly stupid, contrived situations rather than using her own smarts or skills. In the second season, she gets even dumber and works with Division to hunt Nikita because she found out Nikita killed her father before saving her life. She claims that she’s using Division instead of the other way around and continues playing right into their schemes up until the very end of the season where she gets some sense knocked into her. Then she gets brainwashed by Amanda, Division’s psychotic psychiatric assessment agent, and becomes so obsessed with “freeing” the agents at Division that she sabotages Nikita’s plans, shoots a supporting character and nearly kills him, incites a mutiny, and gets her own love interest killed. She is everything that Nikita is not—incapable, snotty, selfish, short-sighted, and constantly getting everyone else in trouble.

Nikita has its fair share of problems, but the differences between Nikita and Alex are what leave the biggest impression on me from a writing standpoint. It’s very easy to lose grip on a grounded character and create a Mary Sue. Writers do it all the time. The key is balancing out the good with the bad. Every character has traits that make them worthwhile, and traits that make you want to smash their head against a concrete wall. They need to have realistic faults and shortcomings. They need to be human and mess up and work hard to atone for their sins. Writers tend to put some characters on pedestals out of habit and love of their work, but if we want people to enjoy them, we have to bump them off it.

Understand the scope and duration of your storylines. One of the absolute hardest things about writing the final novel in my Black Parade series is knowing the limitations of the story. Nikita has definitely struggled with this in the past.

For instance, the first two seasons are by far the strongest because they have an insidious main villain (Percy), a steamy love affair with all kinds of Dating Catwoman vibes (Michael and Nikita), a lovable team of ass-kicking misfits (Birkhoff, Ryan, Nikita, Owen, Sean, and Michael, and I don’t count Alex because she sucks), and a pretty straightforward plot. Season three falls apart after the death of Percy because while the old bastard was starting to get tiresome (he had a very Lex Luthor way of getting out of every single scrape by talking his way out), Amanda is just not main villain material. She’s far too one-note and she was incapable of seeing the big picture the way that Percy did when he ran Division. He knew exactly how to manipulate the agents and how to make them think they were helping their country when they were really just serving his needs.

The idea that the show did well with in the third season was that Division could be used for good instead of evil, and the team struggled with that from start to finish. However, the story wore thin as the mutiny and the brainwashing and Amanda’s creepy obsession with Nikita began to take over. The end of season three had some pretty soap opera level types of drama, especially the plotline with Michael’s bionic hand, and any of the realism the show used to have dried up. By the time season four hit, it was pretty clear that the series had run out of gas.

Pacing is vital to a good book. One has to know how to intersperse action, dialogue, inner conflict, and other story elements in a way that keeps the audience’s attention. This is why a lot of writers suggest outlining the novel before one starts it because it can help keep the reins firmly in the author’s grasp. It’s easy to slip off into a tangent with your story if you don’t have all the details. You don’t want your story to be derivative, so it’s important to explore all the limitations of your world and then decide how to trail blaze.

Choose your villain carefully. Percy is one of the best TV villains I’ve seen in years. He’s got all the calm, cool demeanor of Lex Luthor with the vicious killing streak of Darkseid. Even though Nikita constantly foiled his plans, he always found a way to profit off of his losses. He could talk his way out of damn near anything, and he also managed to stay detached from his emotions, meaning he had no weak points. He was such a slimy bastard that I’m sure we were all cheering when Nikita dropped his ass down that silo to plummet to his death.

However, Amanda’s shift into the main villain seat was misguided, in my opinion. Amanda shifted between second in command and third in command while Percy was still running Division, and it worked because of her skill set. She knew how to influence the recruits and get what she wanted out of them with persuasion, and occasionally, force. However, she got too ambitious and turned on Percy because of her own massive ego. I appreciate that the show didn’t want Percy to be the source of conflict for the entire show’s run, but Amanda didn’t have the panache to pull it off. She was certainly a cold hearted bitch with no remorse and no morals, but she didn’t know how to truly run Division effectively.

I believe a commonly used quote in the writing world is that “every villain is a hero in their own story.” Villains need to get beneath our skin. We need to hate them or fear them at the end of the day. Sometimes all one needs is a one note villain with an end goal of world domination, but the better villains are the ones who have at least one redeeming quality. Percy and Amanda didn’t have those, but plenty of the antagonists in Nikita’s world did. After all, a hero is only as good as their evil counterpart. If one fleshes out the protagonist, one needs to flesh out the antagonist. However, Nikita did do something I enjoyed—they didn’t expose anything about Percy on a real level. We didn’t find out his last name or his childhood. He was just an imposing asshole and that worked because it kept the mystery. Less is more with villains like him, and this show understood that very well.

Make sure your supporting cast is actually supportive. Team Nikita is pretty awesome, all things considered. You have Birkhoff, aka Nerd, who heads up all the technological aspects; Ryan, who handles deployment of the agents and knows how to dig through the government for answers; Sean, who is basically extra muscle; Michael, who is the tactical genius leader guy and Nikita’s moral center; Alex, who is Nikita’s lesser half but still helps out despite being a massive idiot. This brings me to Owen—an agent whose job was to clean up messes and get rid of trace evidence after certain assassinations. Owen had been put on a regiment of rare vitamins and substances that made him faster and stronger than the average bear, but then he got in trouble and defected after Division killed his girlfriend. Nikita later recruits him because of her savior complex, to my complete exasperation.

The problem with Owen is that he doesn’t really pull his weight. The other members of Team Nikita have solid, set purposes and roles. They all do something that is needed on their missions. Owen, however, isn’t much use most of the time. He’s irrational, hot-headed, impulsive, and smug. He rarely thinks ahead and without the regimen, he was no longer super-strong or fast. He was by far the most extraneous character on the show. It seems as if he was brought in as a regular in order to cause tension (at one point, he seemed to take a shine to Nikita while she and Michael were having relationship issues), but at the end of the day, you could remove him entirely and not much would change.

This can sometimes happen in stories with ensemble casts. Authors tend to want to show a diverse spread of characters with their own quirks. Sometimes they can get so wrapped up a character’s personality that they forget to actually make them relevant to the plot. It’s easy enough to fix—often times, one can combine two characters into one, or remove the character entirely and just save them for another story. Owen is a constant reminder to always make sure to tie each character into the plot with their own thread. Otherwise, what are they there for?

I’m honestly in mourning for Nikita. While they went out on a fantastic finale, it’s hard to see it go when there are so few unique shows out there. Here’s to you, Nikita. Thanks for the memories.

Kyoko

Things Avatar: The Last Airbender Taught Me About Writing

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : November 20, 2013

Category: Things X Taught Me About Writing

Tags:aang, animated shows, avatar the last airbender, blog post, cartoons, katara, mai, Nickelodeon, sokka, things atla taught me about writing, toph, ty lee, writing, writing blog, zuko

The second season of The Legend of Korra is ending soon. I, uh, wish I had better things to say about it, but that’s a story for another time. With season two on its way out, I’m feeling a bit nostalgic for the show that got it all started.

Have you seen this show? If you have, high-five. If you haven’t, hold up your left hand, extend your first finger, and jab yourself in the eye. Hard. After you see the eye doctor and he okays your vision, then go out and buy the DVDs. It’s that good. Thus, I will spend a minute or two talking about all the wondrous things this delightful animated show has taught me.

Underage characters are just as interesting as adult characters. Anyone with experience in reading Young Adult fiction, or who frequently watches cartoons/anime intended for children, has heard this tired, common complaint. Unfortunately, a lot of folks think that just because a novel/short story/cartoon/anime stars a child, it won’t be as good as something with a teenager or adult protagonist. This is such pure bologna that it should be represented by Oscar Meyer. Children are interesting. They are engrossing. They are capable of incredible things, whether they are good or bad. Avatar TLA knew this right of the gate. It introduced us to one of the most amazing spread of characters in all of animated history. Every kid had their own personality, their own agenda, their own beliefs, and their own dreams/goals. It is simply staggering to know that there are seven main young characters (and that’s just the ones central to the plot: Aang, Katara, Sokka, Toph, Zuko, Suki, and Azula) and every single one of them develops and changes over the course of three seasons. Age only determines the way certain things unfold within a story. It often does not limit the spectrum or scope of things that happen. These kids still deal with all the horrible parts of life that adults face at one time or another: violence, rage, hatred, racism, sex, fear, faith, and that’s just for starters. The writers (affectionately called “Bryke” for Brian Konietzko and Martin Dante DiMartino, because both their names are a mouthful) did not treat their audience like drooling infants. They wrote the Gaang the way all shows should hope to—with balance, maturity, and respect.

‘The Chosen One’ trope is not always a cliché. Everyone knows this trope: the “one” who is prophesized to end a war or battle of some sort. It’s been around since the Bible days—Jesus, Luke Skywalker (or Anakin, if you decide to believe that the Star Wars prequels exist), Neo, Harry Potter, and John Connor are just the ones I can rattle off the top of my head. Sometimes it can really wear on the nerves when one character’s actions will affect an entire society, or even a world.

For instance, while I generally disagree with the massive hate over the Matrix sequels, one of the main reasons they were disliked is because after Neo got all his powers, he stopped being an underdog, and a normal guy in an abnormal world. If not written properly, the Chosen One can destroy a story and make the reader want to throw your book across the room. I hate to point fingers (usually), but the Fallen series by Thomas E. Sniegoski also had this problem: a bland, douchebag character who was “the Chosen One” and yet all he did was selfishly bitch and moan, neglect his duties, and get people in his life murdered. However, ATLA was a refreshing change from the tired stereotypes of the Chosen One.

First of all, Aang is freakin’ adorable and peppy and cheerful and wide-eyed and goofy. It’s so easy to like the kid. You’d have to actively try to hate him. His idealism is what makes him both strong and weak throughout his journey, especially his struggle to find a way to stop Firelord Ozai without killing him. The show laid bare all of Aang’s inner turmoil and expanded on everything he learned from his friends and his enemies. I think all writers should watch the show and takes notes, especially those who might consider writing a Chosen One character at some point in their careers.

Another important factor that ATLA got right was to PROVE why Aang was the Chosen One: for his skill, his love of the world and the people in it, and his ability to unite them. That can go haywire quickly. Anakin Skywalker via the Star Wars prequel had this problem in spades. Through all three movies, everyone kept talking about Anakin being the one to “balance” the Force, and yet we’re never shown why. He NEVER shows any great potential, other than the potential to whine incessantly, glower creepily at Padme, and throw temper tantrums that result in murdering lots of people. He had some Jedi skills, but not enough to warrant all that attention. ATLA avoided this and proved that there is a way to do it right.

Don’t be afraid to explore other cultures. Alright, lower your pitchforks. I’m not one of those writers who believes that white people are the devil. I am, however, realistic about what’s out there in the main media. When it comes to fantasy and science fiction genres, white characters are predominant. Often, it happens because there are just a ton of incredibly talented writers. Still, there is a stigma whispered about that ethnicities can’t bring home the bacon, and that’s just not true. ATLA integrated several different cultures—Chinese, Japanese, Hindu, Indian, Eskimo, and that’s the tip of the iceberg, hahaha I made a funny—and still knocked it out of the park without (a) being offensive or (b) compromising great storytelling. This is another aspect I think other writers should make a note of for the future. Culture is what makes the world go ‘round. At the end of the day, all writers end up talking about can boil down to how similar or different their characters are. There are beautiful and hideous things about every culture. We should explore them, and explore them without restraint. A character’s race should never be a deterrent. If it is well written, it can be enjoyed by a person of any background.

Women are awesome. I really don’t need to go on long about this one. ATLA has some of the best female characters of all time, bar none. I mean, Toph. Just…TOPH. If you somehow don’t worship the ground she earth-bends, then there’s always Katara, Suki, Azula, Mai, Ty Lee, Princess Yue, June, Avatar Kyoshi…I could go on for ages. ATLA knew how to write girls, and write them better than a hell of a lot of other shows. Mostly because Bryke knew that girls are the same as boys—they have emotions, thoughts, fears, desires, and everything that the male characters have. There were very few stereotypes to be had and every character had a purpose in the show. That, to me, is one of the greatest things that ATLA accomplished in its run.

Honestly, I could probably go on longer, but I have to stop worshipping at some point because my knees are tired. Seriously, though, if you haven’t checked it out, please do. It’s worth your time, believe me. I’m glad to have grown up with a show that believed that I could handle a great story and didn’t talk down to me. It’s something we should all have, no matter how old we are.

Kyoko

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