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On Love Triangles

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : December 23, 2014
1

Category: Book & Movie Reviews

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Left: Jennifer Lawrence Right: Liam Hemsworth Below: Josh Hutcherson

Left: Jennifer Lawrence
Right: Liam Hemsworth
Below: Josh Hutcherson

Hey, guys! Do you like my new glass house? Isn’t it beautiful? Well, gonna start throwing stones now, so remember to duck.

Yes, I know, it is hypocritical for me to write a blog post discussing love triangles, especially when it’s focused on one of the most successful book-to-movie franchises in history. That being said, Mockingjay Part 1 gave me a subject I want to discuss anyhow. Spoiler alert for The Hunger Games novels. Sorry.

My sister-in-law and I went to see Mockingjay last night and we came to the scene in what remains of District 12 where Katniss and Gale are in her victor’s mansion and Gale recalls when she kissed him after he was recovering from being whipped. Katniss kisses him, and Gale bitterly remarks that he knew she’d do that because she only pays attention to him when he’s in pain. My sister tapped me on the arm and made a face, pointing at Gale, and I knew why. We later discussed how she felt about Gale’s bitterness at being rejected by Katniss, and I agreed, but I told her I did feel a little bad for him—not because he was rejected because that’s a part of life, but because Gale is an example of a character who is too closely tied to a love triangle and that’s why that scene made him so unlikable.

I feel as if Gale—and this is strictly based on the film adaptation of him—is propped up by the love triangle and doesn’t stand on his own as a character without it. That’s a problem in the writing. His whole existence is wrapped up in Katniss, whether it’s her actions in District 12, her actions in the Games, or her actions after the second revolution happens. I told my sister I kind of wanted Gale to understand that Katniss wasn’t in love with him at the end of the first novel and then just become her ally for the remaining two books because he isn’t given the right amount of attention thanks to the love triangle. He’s not a bad guy, after all, but the reason Gale’s confession about the kiss was so teeth-clenchingly bad is because it’s such small potatoes in the grand scheme of the rest of the film.

I kind of wanted Katniss to turn to him and say, “Dude, we’re in a WAR. They are bombing innocent people into oblivion. I’m the sole symbol of this war and I don’t have time to tend to your wounded male ego. I don’t have time to fall in love, okay? Suck it up.” That sounds harsh, but seriously, having a second romantic subplot in the middle of a war torn saga is unnecessary.

I really think a better source of conflict for Gale and Katniss would have been the propaganda and her position as the Mockingjay. For instance, what if Gale’s recollection of District 12’s bombing became more popular than Katniss’ other appearances? What if they were considering him for their new symbol, which meant Katniss’ leverage to get Peeta back would be defunct? That could have been a better way for them to be at odds instead of Gale being a sourpuss that Katniss is in love with Peeta. As it stands, he just sounds like one of those whiny boys who post on Facebook about getting ‘Friendzoned’ all the time when it shouldn’t matter. Sure, one sided romance is a bitch, but if someone truly loves you as a friend, you should be respectful of their feelings and simply love them anyway. If it’s too painful to do that, then be an adult and tell them that you can’t continue the friendship because of your feelings and bid them adieu. Don’t mope and whine about it because all you’re going to do is make your friend feel like crap for something they have no control over.

Mockingjay’s love triangle is something I feel isn’t a natural part of the narrative. I think that Collins needed an easy way to create tension between characters, and she chose this one. I think Gale could have come across a lot better if he wasn’t in love with Katniss. After all, he’s a strong, handsome, dedicated human being and we don’t get any of his backstory in the movies, and only a little bit of backstory in the books. He is very underdeveloped and so everything kind of slides into the negative category by the time we get to Mockingjay. He shouldn’t be pouting and throwing tantrums because she’s not in love with him. He should be supporting her after all the horrible things she’s seen and done. He should have been the one to race to her bedroom when she had nightmares, but he wasn’t.

I also think this love triangle might have been easier to digest if we knew with absolute clarity how Katniss felt about him, or why she cared for him. It’s not the same as her relationship with Peeta, which was forged in the kiln of the Hunger Games. Katniss is an extremely solitary person and she appears to like Gale because he’s easy company. If we saw more about his actions, his ideals, and how she relates to them, then maybe it would have made more sense for there to be a triangle. After all, Gale was actually right. Katniss didn’t have any romantic feelings for him, and only kissed him out of comfort because she didn’t know what else to do. There is a such thing as platonic love, after all, and I think that’s what Katniss has for Gale. Granted, kissing him on the lips was pretty misleading, but hey, she’s a teenager, she didn’t know any better.

For me, the love triangle in this series falls short because it is so damn obvious that Katniss is going to end up with Peeta that there was no point to drag it out across all three books, and subsequently, the films. It’s not a triangle when it’s just unrequited from one guy while the other two are wrapped up in their own little love bubble. It clogs up an already complicated story with needless bickering and stressing over something that in the grand scheme of things will not affect the ending. Katniss has far too many issues to worry about settling down with someone, especially when they could all be blown to steaming bits by the Capitol at any time. I feel sympathetic towards Gale just because I’ve had crushes on guys who didn’t reciprocate before, but I didn’t wander around behind them like a puppy begging for attention just to suit my own needs. Friendship should mean more than that to him and that’s why his character starts to deteriorate in the final novel and film.

Love triangles in general, however, can work if you write them with enough weight behind the characters. I think it’s crucial that the two love interests vying for a girl or guy’s attention can stand up on their own and just happen to be in love with him/her instead of all their actions being directly tied to the main character. For instance, The Dresden Files didn’t have the typical love triangle situation between Harry, Susan, and Murphy. When Harry started noticing he might have feelings for Murphy, Susan wasn’t around. When Susan came back, Harry was focused on her and didn’t waffle back and forth between the two. Murphy respected his boundaries and didn’t bring up the shift in their friendship. It was balanced. Both of these women had their own separate lives to lead, and we hardly even saw both of them in the same book. It worked because we didn’t dislike Harry for being indecisive because it was never portrayed that way. He loves Susan for a particular set of reasons, and he loves Murphy for a particular set of reasons, and they don’t intersect. That works well for the series since the stakes are always so high and Harry doesn’t have time to worry about his heart when he’s trying to keep some monster for ripping it out of his chest.

For example, in my own series, I sort of made a list of pros and cons for Michael and Belial as Jordan’s main love interests. Michael is who she is in love with, but Belial is that dangerous little voice in the back of her head reminding her she could just be selfish instead of having to work at her relationship. Belial has a lot to offer Jordan if she went in that direction. She’d be sacrificing her marriage and her friendship with the angels if she chose him, but he would give her a life that she couldn’t experience otherwise. Additionally, Michael and Belial’s entire lives don’t hinge on Jordan’s every action, and that’s because I think it’s important they have their own agency. The boys also have a complicated past with each other that’s going to come up in The Holy Dark, and that’s something I think is lacking in Mockingjay between Gale and Peeta. I’d have to reread the novel, but I don’t remember them interacting with each other very much, and it does damage to the love triangle if the only interactions between the competitors is them fighting over the main character.

Love triangles are complicated and overused. That’s fact. However, it doesn’t mean they are impossible to pull off, nor does it mean authors should stop writing them. I do think YA leans too heavily on them, but when done correctly, it can be an enticing addition to a narrative that helps you learn more about the three people involved and forces the protagonist to make a hard choice. I think that’s the reason why they exist and why they’re so prominent in fiction. Like anything else, it just needs to be used in moderation.

…think fast! *throws stone*

P.S. While I’ve got you here, She Who Fights Monsters will be free this Thursday on Christmas. Spread the word or grab yourself a copy!

Things The Colbert Report Taught Me About Writing

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : December 9, 2014
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Category: Things X Taught Me About Writing

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Pictured: the most adorable man in all of late night TV.

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

On Endings

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : January 11, 2014
1

Category: Inspiration, Uncategorized

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The_Holy_Dark_3_final_Front

So I finished the final installment to The Black Parade series a few days ago.

Hoo boy.

Prior to the third book, whose working title is The Holy Dark if you must know, I’ve written and finished three books–two novels and a novella. However, I’ve never written a series before and the first thing I have to say is, God bless the crazy sons of bitches who write long running series. I mean, seriously, The Black Parade series is just a trilogy, and I had the HARDEST time keeping everything in line. I think as authors we tend to take certain things for granted when we write. For instance, I didn’t realize just how long The Holy Dark was until I went through and began formatting it and doing the superficial edit.

The Holy Dark’s first draft is 168,197 words. Let’s do a comparison, shall we?

The Hobbit: 95,022 words

The Fellowship of the Ring: 177,227 words

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: 190,637 words

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: 198,227 words

Are you beginning to see my plight here? I’m nowhere near as good as the above authors, but my word count is approaching their glorious numbers and it’s slightly terrifying. However, when I researched word counts of famous novel series, I did notice a trend. They do increase in word count the longer on they continue, and I think it has a lot to do with the process of writing towards the end of a series.

As I wrote The Holy Dark, there were all kinds of things that I had to keep in mind to tie up by the conclusion of the novel. Jordan and Michael’s stories span three books, and several storylines intersect with each other. We also meet new characters in the second and third novels who also have their own lives and stories and backstories. It’s like balancing spinning plates after a certain point. The reason why The Holy Dark took me so long to write (I started it in May 2013 and finished it just after New Years) is because I didn’t fully understand what it takes to end a series. There’s so much material to cover. There are your individual character arcs, the romantic character growth between Jordan/Michael and Jordan/Belial, the series long arc of the battle between the Seers and the demons, the ramifications of what happened in the previous novels, and then the actual plot of the current novel. Does your head hurt yet? Mine certainly does.

Endings, to me, are usually a little easier than beginnings. The original beginning to The Black Parade was Jordan reliving the night she killed Mr. N, but two separate critique groups talked me out of it because action-heavy beginnings with no context tend to work better in movies than in novels. Thus, we had our quiet but tense opening with Jordan waking up and starting her day as a Seer. However, the ending to The Black Parade was pretty much set in my head in general terms. I knew where her character would end up. Same deal for She Who Fights Monsters. The Holy Dark’s ending was a vague concept in my head, but how I got there was nothing short of a doozy. This is the first novel I’ve ever written where the beginning was a lot easier than the ending.

For instance, the first draft of THD is actually the second draft. The first time I wrote it, I got to 50,000 words in about two months. Then I stopped, read it, and panicked because the pacing was dreadful. The plot stopped and started and coughed and wheezed and begged to be put out of its misery. Thus, I had a long chat with my writing sensei and he helped figure out why the novel had such horrendous pacing issues. I had so many scenes that I wanted to write before the series ended that the flow of the novel felt unnatural and stilted. I took everything back to the drawing board, deleted big chunks, altered the narrative, and started up again. I did well for several months and then the end of the year hit. I had so many hours at my retail day job that I missed my 2013 deadline because so much of the story had piled up that I didn’t have time to type it all out. My fingers just weren’t fast enough.

What I’ve learned over the course of writing this first draft is that endings can be difficult because one worries about satisfaction. Is the end of the series satisfying? Where does everyone end up after their three book long journey? What have they learned? What have they gone through? How has it changed them? Is the conflict real and personal? Is it something readers will relate to and cherish? There are so many expectations that consciously and unconsciously crop up when you read the final novel in a series.

For example, I’m not a fan of Mockingjay because it felt overstuffed and convoluted. I liked The Hunger Games the best out of the novels because it was succinct and profound. It also had much less of the Peeta/Katniss/Gale love triangle, which I personally find to be pointless. Katniss is not the kind of girl who needs to be torn over two boys. It’s quite clear that she has romantic feelings for Peeta, not Gale, and I worry that Suzanne Collins dragged the love triangle out for the sake of drama, and not because it needed to be there. Now, granted, I’m sure I will get the same criticism in the future because I’ve got my own love triangle going in my series, but I’m just being honest. Either way, The Hunger Games is still one of the best contemporary novel series of all time. I bring it up because my expectations for where the story would end up was way different from how it actually did. I don’t think that authors should pander to their audiences and fret over what they would enjoy reading, but I do think it’s part of the writing experience anyway. It’s what I struggled with during the epilogue of THD because I had scenes that I wanted to write that I felt the readers would enjoy, but since they weren’t plot relevant, I felt the urge to leave them out. After all, nothing gets people crankier than a too-sweet happy ending. I tend to lean towards bittersweet endings because they are more realistic. It’s the same reason why Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows’ epilogue is so controversial–a lot of it reads like lousy fanfiction. Being too saccharine in your ending can color the whole series. Hell, my mother and I discussed this last night with the movie Sweet November. We actually liked the movie itself…until the ending. The ending blew it. It just blew. It was a dumb, unsatisfying cop out. That ending ruined the entire experience and cost the people who made it a sale (I found the movie for cheap at a game store and thought about buying it, but then I remember that FUBAR ending and chose not to instead). It’s the same with novels. You can write something beautiful and emotionally crippling, but if you screw up the ending, it can poison your entire series.

Now compact everything I’ve said and shove it inside your ear. That’s how my brain feels right now. Endings are a pain in the ass. This is a shout out to every single author who has ended a novel series: you are incredible and I hope you know that with all your heart. My stories aren’t nearly as complex as something like George R. R. Martin or J.K. Rowling, and they somehow have endings. I will absorb these authors’ wisdom into my own body like an amoeba before I start the first round of editing.

The nice thing about being an author is that you can always change. You can move chapters around. You can delete them. You can expand. You can chase down new plot threads and character arcs and nail them into place. As a wise Autobot once said, freedom is the right of all sentient beings, and I think that is most true with writing. The Holy Dark kicked my skinny ass up and down the year 2013, but it taught me more than I think the first two novels combined. It’s scary to think I won’t be writing about Jordan, Michael, Gabriel, and Belial in the future, but these characters have been beyond fun to write over the past five years. I think that’s also why the ending was so difficult. I wanted to put them to rest with all the respect that I could because they’ve been keeping me company for so long. I suppose that’s sentimental (and borderline clinically insane), but hey, that’s how I roll.

Welcome to 2014, people. Big things are in our future. Stay tuned for more.

-Kyoko

On Katniss Everdeen

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : November 30, 2013
5

Category: Inspiration

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Catching Fire is blowing up the box office right now, and I couldn’t be happier about it. I saw it last week and that’s why I’ve decided to take a moment to examine our beloved Catnip.

My opinion of Miss Everdeen in general is that she is a bad ass. I actually quite like her, more than I’ve liked a lot of girls in modern day young adult fiction, post-apocalyptic or not. Suzanne Collins has done one of the rarest things in the YA genre in recent history—wrote a bestselling novel series with a well-developed female protagonist and the love story is actually a stealth parody and criticism of typical YA fare.

If you’re read the books, you know what I’m talking about. Katniss, to be frank, doesn’t give a shit about romantic love. She struggles with the very idea of it, and certainly its relevance to her life considering the fact that she’s in the middle of a war that she inadvertently caused. Don’t get her wrong: Katniss loves her family, and she loves Gale, and she unknowingly loves Peeta, but all of those types of love aren’t the one that we normally see in YA. And that, to me, is beyond refreshing. Katniss is forced into a love story and every inch of her rebels because it’s not what is important to her, and I think a lot of girls feel that way. Some of them just don’t have the burning desire to have a boyfriend, and some of them find the very idea of it exhausting. This is a voice that we haven’t heard in recent times with the rise of stupid, codependent women making millions, particularly Bella Swan and Ana Steele. Katniss is and always has been fiercely independent, and one of the main struggles for her is playing the role that society and the Capitol have forced upon her.

I love that Katniss is all rage and defiance instead of a bundle of insecurities who needs to be protected by some quaffed up stalker with a crush. I love that almost all of the main events in The Hunger Games series are a direct result of something she did. Katniss does what a main protagonist should be doing—creating, advancing, and fulfilling the story. Many stories in YA make the mistake of having the plot happen TO the protagonist instead of BECAUSE of the protagonist. My most prominent example is Clary Fray of The City of Bones series. I read the first novel and as I mentioned before, I’m not really a fan of her. She is largely deadweight from the beginning to end of the first novel, and while she might get better later on, it was so tiring that I found myself not wanting to see if she ever grows a pair of ovaries and takes charge. A lot of teen stories can learn from Katniss’ example because people tend to think that YA is all about hormones and paranormal romance and schmoopy love stories, but that isn’t true. There are some kick ass ladies hidden in these pages who need attention. That’s why I’m so thrilled that the Hunger Games is doing so well.

However, let me also say that another reason why I like Katniss is that she’s so screwed up in the head. I’ve come to calling her “Robotniss” in my head, which is why I get irritated when people call Jennifer Lawrence’s performance wooden. That’s not her acting, folks. That is actually Katniss Everdeen. She has the emotional range of a Bengal tiger that’s been slapped in the ass with a baseball bat. Most of the time, Katniss is brooding over the ruined District 12 or feeding her family or how’s she’s going to survive. She actively manipulates Peeta because it’s what she has to do in order to make it out alive. She can’t falter. She can’t stop and wonder about her true feelings for him, or for Gale. This is life or death. Ain’t nobody got time for dat.

My brother told me that from a guy’s standpoint, Katniss is a bit of a cocktease, especially when it comes to Gale, and while I sort of agree with that a bit, it’s also why I think it’s so important that people read the book and watch the movie. Katniss represents something more than what society really wants to think about. It’s not so much about her being a “tease” than it is being a girl who doesn’t want what people think she should want. She has bigger fish to fry, and the last thing on her mind is deciding if she needs a boy to spend the rest of her life with. People need to hear that. Our society still has ridiculous standards for girls, especially ones my age. By the tender age of thirty, you’re expected to have one of two things, if not both: a successful career or a family. If you don’t have one or the other, you’re considered a loser. That well and truly sucks. No one’s path takes that amount of time to get going, and no one can live up to expectations like that when you consider how different each woman is from one another. Like Katniss, maybe some of us don’t want a relationship. Maybe we’ve got more to worry about. And maybe, just maybe, that’s okay.

After all that women have been put through over the years, I’m beyond happy to see Katniss Everdeen up on that big screen kicking ass and taking names and breaking box office records. It is a statement to the world that you can’t make excuses any longer. Women are awesome. We can carry a story. DC has been whining that they can’t make a Wonder Woman movie because people won’t go see a movie with a female hero as the main character, and now we can take the box office records and shove it down their stupid throats. $161 million dollars opening weekend. Read it and weep, sexists and misogynists. Our XX chromosomes are worth all that money, and will continue to be for years to come, so you’d better get ready.

So thank you, Catnip, and thank you, Suzanne Collins, for being voices to a cause that we should be fighting and will continue to fight for decades to come. The Hunger Games novels are by no stretch perfect, but they are a message that needs to be heard. We’ve got a long fight ahead of us, but I get the feeling that the odds are in our favor this time.

-Kyoko

On Death

Posted by :letitia.carelock@gmail.com On : October 4, 2013
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So I spent about three hours last night on Skype having a debate with my writing sensei about major character death.

Occasionally, my sensei has enough time to drop in and give me advice about my novels–particularly brainstorming ideas on how to get the story unstuck, smoothing out character motivations and actions, or giving me a good kick in the seat of my pants to get me back on track with my word count. I honestly wish I weren’t a vagrant and could pay him for it. He’s a kick ass screenwriter and independent filmmaker so he knows a thing or two about damn good writing and how to whip a story into shape.

Still, we disagree on certain points and this was a huge hot button issue that neither of us had talked about before, hence the three hours. It got me thinking about myself, my writing, and my general philosophy about fiction. This post might be a long one so I pray that you’ll stick with me as I try to explain my position on major character death in fiction.

Disclaimer: I’m not against it.

I do, however, believe that it is overused and often simply a cheap trick to squeeze some tears out of your readers. Not always, mind you. I can name examples of fiction that did it correctly. By the way, BIG FAT STINKIN’ SPOILER ALERT FOR A BUNCH OF DIFFERENT BOOKS AND MOVIES SO PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL.

Here are the examples of using major character death properly (in my opinion):

-Dumbledore from Harry Potter

-Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop

-Trinity from The Matrix Revolutions

-Susan Rodriguez from the Harry Dresden novels

-Kamina from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann (*debatable, though, because I loved him so much I couldn’t continue watching the show after he died.)

-Shepherd Book from Serenity

-Sam Winchester in Supernatural’s fourth season finale (I had to specify since he’s died at least three times in the show’s run, if not more. Yeah, it’s that kind of show.)

-Captain Roy Montgomery from Castle

-V from V for Vendetta

-Jason Todd from the Batman comics (granted, they brought him back, but whatever.)

-Rue from The Hunger Games

Each of the above deaths, to me, served definite, thematic purposes. These characters meant the world to the people they were supporting and their deaths caused major shifts in the narratives. It deeply affected the protagonists in various ways–motivating them to defeat the bad guy, to seek revenge, to end a conflict, to inspire greatness, or simply because there was no way for them to continue in the world they existed in. These are deaths that make sense on paper and naturally draw emotions out of the audience because we’ve come to know and love them, and have to say goodbye whether we like it or not. These are deaths that feel organic and not forced. To me, a good major character death doesn’t have to be one that you see coming, but it should be one that you can understand and justify in your head even through your hiccuping sobs (seriously, Capt. Montgomery and Spike’s death scenes made me sob like an infant.) They should die for a reason, and one that is more layered than “it’ll make your audience bawl like three year olds” because that is cheap emotional manipulation. I’m against that. Which brings me to my next point.

Here are the examples of using major character death improperly (in my opinion):

-90% of the characters who have died on Supernatural (but if you want to get specific, Meg, Gabriel, Balthazar, Jo, Ellen, and Pamela)

-Wash from Serenity

-Robert Neville from I Am Legend

-Captain Pike from Star Trek Into Darkness (I could be persuaded otherwise, but my initial reaction to this was that it was misused.)

-Majority of the characters who died in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

-Primrose from Mockingjay

-Irene Adler from Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

-Billy from The Expendables II

-November 11 from Darker Than Black

The deaths of the characters listed above may be for one or more reasons that I disagree with from a writing standpoint. That is, using the death as a cheap trick to make your readers/audience cry, not wanting to develop the character further, using the death as a lazy method to make the hero worth harder for his/her end goal, using the death as an easy way into a revenge or hunt-for-the-killer plot, or trying to shock your audience with a high body count.

To illustrate my point, I’ll use the three examples that make me the most irritated: Sherlock Holmes, Supernatural, and Serenity. Irene Adler was literally the best thing ever in Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes. No disrespect to RDJ and Jude Law, I adored them, but she was the most bad ass woman I could remember seeing in recent films. She was smart, quick-witted, resourceful, manipulative, and brave. There was none of that sexist crap that you see in stuff like the new Riddick film. She was beautiful and dangerous and powerful and everything that a well-written female character should be. She showed all shades of being a woman. She was balanced. She was interesting. Above all, she was important to the plot. And they just killed her off in the first ten minutes of A Game of Shadows despite being the third biggest character in the first movie. And she doesn’t even get a meaningful death scene or a tear out of her lover. The movie just sweeps her under the rug like she was nothing. That is an injustice I simply cannot stand. Her death should have meant something more to Holmes. It should have enraged him, made him hunt for Moriarty even harder and want to kick the son of  bitch right off that waterfall at the end of the movie. Death needs to have an impact that resounds throughout the rest of the story, whether it’s a movie, a TV show, or literature. It’s not something to be taken lightly, which brings us to example numero dos.

Supernatural is by far the worst offender when it comes to death. It’s in season nine and they have killed over half of the recurring major and minor characters that have passed through the show. Think I’m joking? Google it. I’ll wait. Believe me now? In the first few seasons, we were devastated to lose major characters that we knew and loved and who were part of Sam and Dean Winchester’s lives. However, the writers seemed to think it was a good idea to kill literally everyone and guess what happened? I stopped caring. If you do the exact same thing with every single recurring character, what is the point of investing in them? They’ll be dead by their second appearance. Death has no sting when you use it over and over and over again to the point of accidental parody. It becomes dull when your audience is just checking their wristwatch to see when a character is going to bite it because they know this is your go-to move. The biggest disappointment in relying too heavily on death to get a response out of your audience is that it wastes the potential of the characters whom they barely got to know. In particular, Supernatural does not treat its female characters very kindly. They tend to die just because it will make the Winchesters feel guilty about being unable to save them, and it frustrates me because these women (especially Meg and Pamela) could have been welcome additions to the cast. They could have balanced out all that pouting, lying, and arguing that the Winchesters do all season long. It would’ve been a breath of fresh air to see Meg join Team Free Will, but instead, she got the shaft and now it’s back to the boring status quo.

And now, the kicker. Wash. I cannot think of a more polarizing death. Firefly was murdered in its crib and they finally managed to resurrect it and what does Joss Whedon do? He bumps off not one but two of the main characters. My writing sensei posted a quote where Whedon explained why he did it–to upset the norm, make the threat real, etc–but I disagree with the Whedon method of “kill everyone you love and in the most horrifying ways possible.” I think Book’s death served those purposes more than enough. It made everything hit home for the crew. It made them see even more than ever that time waits for no one, that the ‘verse is an ugly place, that some threats can come for you in the night and take everything you love. It was harsh and ugly and absolutely tear-jerking in every sense. But Wash’s death was just a suckerpunch. It felt like Whedon came up behind me and pantsed me and then kicked me and pointed and laughed after I fell. It was unnecessary. We already felt devastated at losing Book, and Wash died for the exact same purpose, so to me, it was an extraneous manipulative gesture. It just made us want to cry for the sake of crying, not for the sake of the story. I’m not saying Wash shouldn’t have died at all–I think he shouldn’t have died in Serenity. Wash’s death would have had more of a punch if there had been a second season of Firefly and he died at the end. The crew would have had time to come to terms with Book’s death and maybe they would have fought to be more cautious and then Wash’s death would come as a blindside to show them that they weren’t ready. But that’s a conversation for another day.

The main reason why I have no desire to bump off a major character in my own work is because of my personal philosophy about stories. It’s no secret that the world is an awful place. It’s just downright sickening sometimes. Ray Bradbury once said, “You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” That is a quote that I live by, through and through. Books are an escape. They can be a safe haven for some people, myself included above all. I look to them for comfort, for inspiration, for solace, for love and brilliance and creativity. That is what books mean to me. I’m not saying it’s what anyone else believes–it’s just true for who I am as a person and as an author. That being said, I don’t want my books to turn into one of those bad examples up there. I don’t want to kill off one of my main characters just to make you cry. I want my readers to feel everything–anger, sadness, joy, comfort, hope–and I believe that there is a way to do that without killing off a major character in the final novel of the series. I feel like it’s something that many writers rely on too heavily in their story arcs. I think many writers do it because it is expected of them to “raise the stakes” by murdering one of their darlings. I have already pointed out that when it works, it really works, but when it doesn’t, you just end up with a bad taste in your mouth.

Many famous authors emphasize that one should write the story they would want to read. And that’s my biggest reason against killing off a major character in the final book. There are millions of trilogies out there that have survived and become legends without killing off main protagonist characters–Toy Story 3, Star Wars (Darth Vader doesn’t count because he’s a villain, leave me alone, nerds!), The Dark Knight Rises, Indiana Jones (THERE IS NO FOURTH FILM DAMMIT), and that’s just franchises off the top of my head. I’m in no way against killing protagonists because it is an effective storytelling method, but for me, it has to fit the story naturally and be for a good purpose because the world that I’ve built for people to read should be one that I would be satisfied with reading, and I don’t believe that it will improve the work or the message behind the work if I kill that particular character. I believe in second chances. I believe in rewarding people for their faith in a story and in the characters who make up that story. I don’t believe that everything should have a happy ending, but since life is a steaming pile of camel manure most of the time, I think the least I can do is create a world where sometimes there is a silver lining. Maybe there isn’t a leprechaun at the end of the rainbow, but I really don’t think there should be a homeless man waiting there to shank you after your hard and grueling journey.

But maybe that’s just me.

Thanks for reading, darlings.