Wait, it's almost July?

And suddenly a month has passed. Yikes.

I've been busy. First of all, what should, *hopefully* be the final-ish revision of Duskfall (you can tell how confident I am about them already, can't you?) has taken more time and effort than I'd hoped. Ain't that always the way. I'm happy to be wrapping them up, though.

I've also joined a writing group, so that has been cool. I'm sure I'll talk more about that later, but I'm very happy about it so far.

Oh, and I went to Alaska. Had an adventure or two. Because, you know, that's where I'm from and such.

Between those things, which are for the most part very awesome, and some decidedly not-awesome other things like Hugo award controversies and the recent murders in Charleston, I've been avoiding saying much on the internet of late. But I think I've collected myself a bit and I'm ready to jump back into blogger-ness, which means continuing my How I Got Published and #FIF Series (Serieses? Serieses'ses''''? Stupid english...), checking in more with general updates on my writing (including writing group stuff) and life in general (including Alaska stuff), and maybe even sharing some thoughts I have about recent events. So, that's that.

#FIF: Joss Whedon

Well, today I’d actually intended to write a post about Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I realized I needed some time to put that one together—turns out my feelings about BtVS can’t be fully explained with only a day’s notice. So I’m going to watch a few of my favorite episodes in the coming week, think about it a bit, and probably get that post up next Friday.

But, for today, I’m going to talk about the man behind Buffy—and Angel, and Dr. Horrible, and Firefly, and Serenity, and Cabin in the Woods, and The Avengers films—Joss Whedon.

If you know me, you know I’m a HUGE Joss Whedon fan. Like, enormous. And if you don’t know me, that might as well be one of the first things you find out about me. I’m all about the Whedonesque.

And, for me, it boils down to the fact that Joss Whedon is the type of writer I want to be. He has so many qualities that I want to hone for myself, and he has told story after story that have elicited ALL THE EMOTIONS from me. I could go on and on about why I think Whedon is amazing (musicals!) and his stories are the best thing since the wheel, but I’m going to focus on three or four things just to make this post manageable. So, without further ado, let me tell you about why I’m so freaking obsessed with Joss Whedon.

He’s a Shakespeare for our time.

Joss Whedon is known for his dialog. It’s quirky, quippy, fast-paced and intelligent, but also a bit more down-to-earth than many other dialog methods. He walks that line between “trying too hard to sound exactly like real conversation and sounding ridiculous” and “trying to hard to imitate dialog and sounding stilted” perfectly. Watch anything Joss is involved with and you’ll see (or rather hear) his brilliance with words. Nowhere is this more apparent than in The Avengers, where Whedon’s dialog meets Robert Downey Jr.’s acting, and real magic happens.

He’s also known for making up his own words and linguistic tics. Buffyspeak is totally a thing, a word coined to describe the style of speech within the Buffyverse, steeped in pop-culture idioms and obscure pronoun references, that demonstrates in a wonderful way the quirkiness of teenage/young adult language. And in the Firefly ‘Verse, Joss created a hybrid of English and Chinese that managed to sound wonderfully science-fictiony, westerny, and yet be understandable and relatable all at once.

Joss Whedon is also a master of humor, as stated in his biography by Amy Pascale:

Fox’s Jorge Saralegui compares Joss to a composer in the way that he can balance darkness with humor. ‘That’s really almost kind of like music, it’s a rhythm thing in your head,’ he says. ‘Most writers don’t have that. They’re more like a songwriter that knows how to put together a song: verse, verse, chorus, bridge, whatever. but they don’t hear everything in the way where one thing balances the other—counterpoint, in effect. I think you either hear it or you don’t. Joss is excellent at it.’ - (Joss Whedon: The Biography 186)

A large portion of that humor stems from his dialog. I’ve been saying it for years: Joss Whedon is a modern-day Shakespeare*, chiefly because of his dialog (although I could write an entire series of posts on the Shakespeare-Whedon comparison alone). If he’s remembered for one thing, it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s his way with words.

He writes emotional, iconic stories.

From the grand metaphor of “high school as a horror movie” that permeated the early seasons of Buffy (and the smaller, more poignant metaphors that I’ll get to in my later post on BtVS) to his delightful twist on the horror genre with Cabin in the Woods, Joss Whedon’s ability to connect with his audience through emotion is always clear and powerful. He makes the myth accessible. “You can’t write from a political agenda,” Whedon says,

and make stories that are in any way emotional or iconic. You have to write it from a place that’s a little dark, that has to do with passion and lust and things you don’t want to talk about. (Joss Whedon: The Biography 31)

Reading/watching Joss’s work, it becomes clear that he really isn’t afraid to go into the dark, to talk about uncomfortable, strange, awkward, horrible things in his stories.

He has an ability to combine all sorts of storytelling qualities into one wonderful package. His stories can be dark and horrifying, but also laced with humor, with compelling characters that grow and change, and carefully planned plots that twist and turn in all the right ways. I know I’m kind of just fanboying out about him right now, but all this stuff is totes the way it is, or at least it is for me. He’s my kind of storyteller.

Joss writes about loss. (Ha ha.)

You may have seen this floating around the interwebz:

It’s funny, but true. Joss Whedon is known for his tendency to kill off characters, whether  in great sweeping heroic sacrifices or tragically sudden and completely-out-of-the-blue death scenes. That’s kind of a trendy thing, these days, as the graphic above suggests, but Joss’s death scenes are worth so much more than shock value.

…Tara’s death—and the deaths of Joyce Summers, Doyle, and quite a few other ill-fated characters over the course of Joss’s writing career—are not merely narrative necessities. They all speak to Joss’s need to ground his tales in truth and human experience….Joss designs each death in the Whedonverse to make viewers feel the despair and ache of loss—because he spent so much time creating an emotional connection that brought them joy and love in the first place. When Joss kills a character, it hurts because it is designed to hurt. (Joss Whedon: The Biography 195)

Some of the most glorious, wonderful deaths I’ve seen in fiction—as well as some of the most horrible and tragic—have taken place in the Whedonverse, but each and every one of them has meaning, and not only to the story. The loss Whedon portrays in his stories has meaning to me, too, and that is a really incredible thing.

He’s a feminist.

So am I, in case you haven’t noticed, so this one has particular meaning to me—namely that it is ok, and actually totally cool, to be a man and a feminist and write proverbial “strong female characters.” It seems that characteristic came chiefly from Joss’s mother, but was supported by just about every woman he’s associated with through life. And, looking at his work, you could take just about any female character and see depth, strength, and quality. (Although some come to mind specifically: Willow, Joyce, Anya, Glory, Faith, Kitty Pryde, Zoe, River, Echo, Black Widow, and—of course—Buffy.)

By the way, if you haven’t seen the following speech, you really should. I’ve posted it on my blog before, and for good reason: it pretty much embodies why I’m trying to write strong, real women characters in my fiction, too.

So, I don’t know, that’s kind of my spiel on Joss Whedon. Like I said, I could go on and on about how freaking awesome he is, but I’ll spare you; I’ve done enough fanboying.**

I’ll fade out with a reading suggestion: one of my favorite Joss Whedon stories is actually a comic, and not of the Buffy/Angel or Firefly continuation (although those are awesome). He did a run on the Astonishing X-Men series some years back, and it’s one of my favorite things. Period. Whedon tells a great story, even with characters who aren’t his own (as has been made abundantly clear with his work on the Avengers sequence). So, if you like comics—or even if you don’t—you should totally check out Whedon’s work there.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go watch some Buffy, and I think you’ll hear more about that from me next week!

* Which is only one of many reasons why his recent rendition of Much Ado About Nothing is so absolutely fantastic.

** Although I will say, if you ever really want to get on my good side, and Joss Whedon happens to owe you a favor, the best thing in the world you could do is get me some kind of headshot photo of Joss Whedon, signed with something overly motivational, like “Believe in  your dreams, Chris! Love, Joss.” Yeah. That would be the best gift I could ever receive.

#FIF: The War of Art

I’m not big into motivational/self-help speakers or books. I mean, I appreciate being motivated as much as the next human, but when it comes to what I spend my time consuming media-wise, there is just way too much content for me to commit to that kind of thing. For me, reading a mind-blowing story or gorgeous prose or learning about something really really cool can be just as motivational as…er…that motivational stuff I’m talking about.*

But there are exceptions to everything, aren’t there? For me, the exception in this category is The War of Art by Steven Pressfield.

Pressfield describes the Artist’s Dilemma** perfectly: an artist, by definition, has some kind of art that he or she needs/wants to create. Pressfield paints this picture with the broadest of strokes, which is an obvious attempt at making the book a bit more marketable, but nevertheless ring true to me. The artist could be a writer agonizing over finishing a novel or a painter creating a painting, but it could also be an entrepreneur starting a business, or a fledgling runner wanting to train for a marathon. Basically, if you have a Thing that you’ve always wanted to do but have never done it, Pressfield’s book addresses why that may be and how that Thing might be accomplished. (That said, Pressfield chiefly frames his narrative from a writer’s perspective, and for obvious reasons I’ll do the same.)

     There’s a secret that real writers know that wannabe writers don’t, and the secret is this: It’s not the writing part that’s hard. What’s hard is sitting down to write.

     What keeps us from sitting down is Resistance. (The War of Art xi)

Basically, Pressfield uses the blanket term “Resistance” to define everything that stops a writer from finishing that elusive book—or from sitting down to write at all. The entire first half of The War of Art is devoted to recognizing Resistance in its many forms: from the obvious things, like procrastination, self-doubt, and fear, to the perhaps less obvious, like self-dramatization, victimhood, addiction, and sex. The second half of the book proposes that in in order to defeat Resistance, a writer must make the transition from “amateur” to “professional”; he/she must begin to take writing (and Resistance) seriously.

     Someone once asked Somerset Maugham if he wrote on a schedule or only when struck by inspiration. “I write only when inpsiration strikes,” he replied. “Fortunately, it strikes every morning at nine o’clock sharp.”

     That’s a pro. (The War of Art 64)

I love The War of Art because it embodies the work ethic I’ve been developing for myself over the past few years. I used to be the kind of writer that relied heavily on “the muse.” I was a total writing mystic, all about the flashy stuff and not about the work—because “art” shouldn’t be work! I wrote only when I “felt like it” (aka when “the muse struck”), which was depressingly rare. Well, news flash to my old self, and anyone else out there that may be deluding themselves in like manner: THAT’S THE WRONG WAY TO GO ABOUT WRITING, YA’LL.

Jeff Winger knows what I’m talkin bout.

That’s not to say I didn’t produce anything worthwhile during that period, but I strongly believe now that I did not produce nearly the amount nor the quality of writing that I could have done then. I mean, it worked well enough when I was in college, and couldn’t really devote as much time to writing as I would’ve liked (wrong again—I could’ve, I just didn’t). It started to become less feasible when I started an MFA program in Creative Writing. I pushed up my work ethic slightly when that happened, but I still ended up writing stories by pulling an all-nighter the night before they were due. It’s really kind of embarrassing when I think about it. And, when I graduated with an MFA in 2012 and went to writing full time, my productivity fell apart. I suddenly had so much time to write, and yet was actually sitting down to do it less than I had in years. That is the Artist’s Dilemma, my friends. That is the War of Art. Resistance is real, folks, and it kills dreams. I’m not kidding.

But the thing about Resistance, as Pressfield establishes, is that it isn’t all-powerful. If I sit around and wait for the muse to show up, I may be waiting a while. I may be waiting forever. But if I put in the work every day, a crazy thing happens: the muse starts to show up, and pretty consistently, in fact.

     …the most important thing about art is work.  Nothing else matters except sitting down every day and trying. 

     Why is this so important?

     Because when we sit down day after day and keep grinding, something mysterious starts to happen. A process is set into motion by which, inevitably and infallibly, heaven comes to our aid. Unseen forces enlist in our cause; serendipity reinforces our purpose. (The War of Art 108)***

I’ve had some real “come-to-Jesus” talks with myself over the past few years (Pressfield’s book was the catalyst of more than one of them). And, slowly, I’m developing a routine and ethic that I think really works, and for which I’m profoundly grateful. It’s all still a work in progress, but it has progressed pretty damn far, and I’m happier for it.

If you’re an artist pining after something that you just haven’t created yet—or just someone who has a Thing they really want to do but for some reason has never made the time to do that Thing—I suggest you read The War of Art. If it helps you even a fraction of the amount it’s helped me, I think you’ll be happier for it, too.

* Of course, sometimes the “motivational stuff” that I’m sort of lumping into one big stereotypical category can teach really interesting things. It can probably tell mind-blowing stories, and for all I know there are some self-help writers who really do have beautiful prose. I recognize I’m maybe drawing lines where lines don’t need to be drawn, but just follow along with me, here. This is all just set up to talk about an awesome book, anyway.

** I’m totally making up that phrase, but, well, it sounds pretty accurate to me.

*** Pressfield’s book is definitely not religions in any specific sense, but it does address the spiritual aspect of creation in some interesting ways. Because, ultimately, artistry and creation are full of mystery and crazy things and feelings and, yes, even spirituality. But I’ve learned that those mysteries and serendipitous things don’t occur on their own—I’ve got to put the work in to see them happen.

#FIF: Stephen King's Writing Advice

Time for another #FIF! In honor of my ongoing blog series on story structure, I figured it would be appropriate to mention one of the only works on my formative influences list that talks about craft: Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft.

Stephen King has gotten a lot of flak over the years. He's a hack, people say. A sellout, a genre lackey. You know what, though? All those people can suck it. He's one of the still-living writers I most respect, and not just because he's sold like a billion books or something. The dude's got chops. He's written (and published!) more than fifty novels, a half dozen nonfiction books, and over two hundred short stories. If that in and of itself isn't a stellar CV for a writer, then I don't know what is. King adheres to one of the most basic principles of writing that I know of, and that is to be prolific. So he's got that going for him, if nothing else.

And, let's be honest, of King's books, some of them really are awful. He's admits to as much himself in On Writing. But some of them are absolute gems: The Stand, Bag of Bones, and his Dark Tower series are all great reads. And his first novel, the iconic Carrie--perhaps my favorite I've read form him--is a tour de force in terror and storytelling. He won an O. Henry prize for his short story "The Man in the Black Suit," and Best American Short Stories 2007, which he edited, is one of my all time favorites of the Best American series.

But perhaps what I love most about Stephen King is his no-nonsense attitude and approach to the craft, and On Writing is full of such awesomeness. King approaches the topic with a warning, first referring readers to Elements of Style by Stunk and White (one of the single greatest tools a writer can have), and then stating that

This [On Writing] is a short book because most books about writing are filled with bullshit. Fiction writers, present company included, don't understand very much about what they do--not why it works when it's good, not why it doesn't when it's bad. I figured the shorter the book, the less the bullshit. (King, "Second Forward")

I've read a dozen or two books on writing and craft, and writers with this ability to zone out their pretentiousness when they talk about writing are rare. King merely states what has worked for him, along with some standard tools that every writer should learn to use, and that's about it.

The book itself is full of gems:

• King describes his muse, an old, cranky dude lurking in the shadows, smoking a cigar.
• Hearing about King's sale of Carrie, and his family's circumstances that led up to that event, is delightful, and more than a little motivational for aspiring folks like me.
• King talks about how there are four types of writers: the bad, the mediocre, the good, and the great. While you can't teach a bad writer to be mediocre, he says, and you can't teach a good writer to be great, you can teach mediocre writers to be good, and that's what On Writing is all about.
• King is also a notorious discovery writer in the purest sense of the term--he begins each story with an idea or a character, and lets the story take over from there. He doesn't believe in outlines or premeditated structure of any kind, and it shows in On Writing. While I'm not quite such a discovery purist as King, I'm much closer to that side of the spectrum than the outlining side. So hearing his perspective was helpful for me, especially when books on the craft seem to be predominantly written by outlining writers. (Although, if you're looking for other craft books by discovery writers, I suggest Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott--it's a distant but solid second for me as far as books on craft go.)

Also, I happen to have the audiobook version of On Writing, read by King himself, which was a delight to listen to. So, if you have the chance, check that out.

Long story short: Stephen King writes (and gives writing advice) like a boss. He's a great, talented, and prolific writer, and I've learned a lot of what I do directly from him. If you're a writer, and you're looking to learn, I suggest you go read/listen to On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft immediately.

Some Site Updates

Updated the following:

Changed my bio a bit.

Reorganized my Formative Influences page and explained #FIF.

Updated my Current Projects page, detailing the Blood Queen series and the currently existing projects in that universe.

Check 'em out, yo!

#FIF: The Things They Carried

I've already told you about what might be my favorite novel of all time. Now, let me tell you about what might be my favorite short story collection.

The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien is brilliant. For me, it is the pinnacle combination of sharp, beautiful prose, and engaging, meaningful stories. Characters are vivid--helped by the fact that TTTC could also be read as a novel, as many of the same characters are recurring with there own vague character arcs, and there are some definite recurring themes.

But I prefer to think of it as a set of short stories. Each piece feels more powerful to me that way; they enhance each other but do not depend on one another.

I normally rate stories in collections I read on a 5-star system. Most collections, even by my favorite authors, have two, maybe three stories if they're incredibly saturated with talent, that merit five stars. The Things They Carried has nine*. Nine five-star stories, on my admittedly subjective scale, and not a single story with less than three (which is also a common occurrence--at least two or three stories are below three stars--in single-author collections). In fact, TTTC was the first collection I read where I had to modify my 5-star system simply because a few stories stood out even more than the nine that already achieved 5-star status. While the titular story is phenomenal, and many others are beautifully told, my three favorites in the collection are "On the Rainy River" (filled with brutal honesty, I feel like I'm genuinely in the narrator's shoes, in his head, experiencing things as he experienced them), "Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong" (fascinating character study, a change in structure, and perhaps one of the most haunting stories in the collection), and "The Lives of the Dead" (a non-war story that is still very much a war story, a story that manages to display real, tangible, genuine emotions, a story that deals with death, coping, and stories themselves).

But I'm not doing the collection justice. There is so much to say about it that I don't know how to say.

Here's maybe the general thing I'm getting at: Tim O'Brien is a brilliant writer. If I could aspire to write like anyone, O'Brien just might be at the top of my list. (Fortunately, as I writer, I've decided not to aspire to "write like" anyone, mainly because I honestly don't think it can be done, so there isn't much pressure where that is concerned.)

I'm particularly fascinated by his treatment of the concept of writing stories in the stories he's written (Tim O'Brien was meta before it was cool). He'll say things like

By telling stories, you objectify your own experience. You separate it from yourself. You pin down certain truths. You make up others. You start sometimes with an incident that truly happened [...], and you carry it forward by inventing incidents that did not in fact occur but that nonetheless help to clarify and explain. ("Notes")

Or

For more than twenty years I've had to live with it, feeling the shame, trying to push it away, and so by this act of remembrance, by putting the facts down on paper, I'm hoping to relieve at least some of the pressure on my dreams. ("On the Rainy River")

And

Story-truth is sometimes truer than happening truth. ("Good Form" - actually, I could quote this entire story [it's only two pages long], because it gets at the heart of why his stories are so meaningful to me.)

Each one of those ideas cuts to the heart of me, of why I write in the first place. I tell stories to separate the truth of what I've experienced from what I've experienced--because, in my mind, there is a difference. I tell stories to "relieve at least some of the pressure on my dreams," because if I don't, they begin to overwhelm me. I tell stories because they are emotionally more true than the factual world I see around me. That doesn't mean I tell stories for the happy endings; sort of the opposite, actually. I tell stories for the true endings. The one's that are meaningful, that have been worked for, that the story deserves.

Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried speaks to me because almost every single one of the stories penetrates deep down to the very reason I write in the first place. And I love that, because stories are meaningful. Stories are beautiful, and they are true, even (and sometimes especially) when they're not. And, most of all, because

This too is true: stories can save us. ("The Lives of the Dead")

* Those nine stories, in the order they appear in my collection, are as follows: "The Things They Carried," "On the Rainy River," "How to Tell a True War Story," "Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong," "Stockings," "The Man I Killed," "Notes," "Good Form," and "The Lives of the Dead." Each one is amazing.

#FIF: Final Fantasy VII, Fanfiction, and How I Started Writing.

That's right, folks, it's time for another #FIF (Formative Influence Friday!). And today I'm covering none other than the one, the only, the legendary, the epic, the yes-it's-overhyped-but-I-still-love-it-video-game:

dun dun dun! And, yes, SPOILERS FOR FINAL FANTASY VII FOLLOW.

I'll be the first one to admit, my admiration of Final Fantasy VII is both romantic and nostalgic. Just thinking of FFVII takes me back to seventh grade, when I was a confused barely-teen who had nothing going for him socially, a voice that cracked more than Robert Downey Jr. (at the time) and shifted octaves more than Mariah Carey (re: weird puberty stuff), and no idea how to deal with any of it. There were some other things going on that contributed to my unhappiness, personally and in other relationships, but those things deserve entire posts unto themselves. Long story short: it was a sucky time in the land of Chris Husberg.

But, in a weird, twisted way, when I got my hands on FFVII, I found an escape from all that. So here's a caveat: my feelings for FFVII are clouded by the fact that the game essentially saved me from one of the worst parts of my growing-up. FFVII is the hero of my childhood. It provided me a distraction, a world where there were heroes and adventures and gigantic swords and dudes with long silver hair. So, I'm biased, and I know it.

Because let's be honest: FFVII, while it's popularity certainly endured more than any other FF (another topic on which entire essays could be written), isn't the best game around. Final Fantasy VI and Chrono Trigger have more developed characters (and FFVI has arguably the greatest villain of the entire FF series). Final Fantasy Tactics, perhaps tied with VI as my favorite Final Fantasy of all time (objectively speaking, subjectively, this post should make it obvious what my choice would be), told a phenomenal story with great twists and turns. And, of course, each subsequent FF has had exponentially better graphics, if nothing else.

I wasn't kidding. Dude's sword is RIDICULOUSLY LONG.
Compensating much, Sephy?

But, for me, there's just something about VII. A few things, actually. Sephiroth, for one. The original (for me) bad-ass villain. And he looks like a rockstar, too. The silver hair and ridiculously long katana are now video game icons. The epic struggle to save the planet. Gold Saucer and all the mini-games. Cloud's mysterious backstory. The love triangle. Aeris' unexpected sacrifice. Canons the size of cities
(wtf?). And, of course, giant swords that are so impractical it's ridiculous. All of it drew me in, and I was powerless to resist. Even as I've looked at the story and characters with older, more experienced eyes, and seen them for what they really are (um...sort of nonsensical, all over the place, and underdeveloped), my feelings haven't changed.

And, interestingly, I'm not the only one. FFVII remains the Final Fantasy with the strongest cult following by far. The intense popularity of the game has led to numerous spin-offs and even a CG movie (which is awful, by the way, but hell yes I saw it almost immediately and loved every minute of it ["dilly-dally shilly-shally"? WTF?]) or two--see the Wikipedia compilation of all things FFVII here.* I'll be the first to admit that such a cult following isn't entirely justified, and I'll also be the first to admit that I am deeply embedded in said cult following. Oxymoronic? Perhaps. But that's how it is.

But FFVII has more meaning to me than anything I've mentioned so far, and for one very important reason: Final Fantasy VII is what got me writing.

I don't want to give it too much credit; I was scribbling stories in composition notebooks when I was in the first grade. But I'd never really had a compulsive drive to tell a story, never had an undeniable, almost uncontrollable desire to explore characters, until I finished FFVII...and wanted more. I wasn't done with the characters. I wasn't ready to let them go (let's be honest--I wanted Aeris back). I've spoken of how I love things that depress me before, and FFVII may have been the original.

So, I entered the wonderful realm of fan fiction.

I mostly read the stuff, at first. Frank Verderosa's The Final Fantasy VII Internet Series is, I think, what got me started, and is really the only story that still stands out in my mind (it is pretty epic, even as far as fan fiction is concerned). I got most of my fixes from IcyBrian's wonderful RPG fanfic compilation website. Seriously, that place was a lifesaver for me, and I spent probably hundreds of hours reading stories posted there.

And, for me, just reading them eventually wasn't enough. I had to start writing them, too. So I started my own FFVII fan fiction series. I've scoured IcyBrian's site and I don't think that first one is up there anymore. I think he might have taken down all of the series that weren't finished...I only ended up submitting three or four chapters, until I got bored with that idea and started on a new *alternate history* version of FFVII (I was so innovative, wasn't I?). Got three or four chapters into that, and then I got bored again. (I was a discovery writer from the beginning!) Neither of those stories are on the site anymore that I can see (and the links to the fanfic areas of the site don't even seem to be working anymore, for that matter...sad), although I do still have hard copies of them. Perhaps, one day, I'll post them on the blog. We'll see. BUT...Brian must have liked what he'd seen from me, because he tapped me to participate in what he called the "Cold Fusion" project. Essentially it was a group-written novel with zero collaboration (Brian facilitated this by making sure the authors did not know who each other were or contact one another at all, keeping the names secret until the next chapter had already been posted). So...if you are interested in reading what I wrote back in 1998ish about FFVII, look up Conor McCloud (my pen name at the time...so I guess technically there's no way to verify that it was me who wrote the chapter, you'll just have to take my word for it) in the Cold Fusion part of the website. Or just follow this link, if you dare. And please, be kind. I was young, people (the title is mine, too, by the way--Ghosts of the Past, Phantoms of the Future--I thought I was pretty clever...lol).

So, anyway, that is the single most influential thing FFVII did for me: it got me writing. Story-wise, it's mediocre. It's characters are flashy on the outside, but have less substance than I prefer to admit. But something about that story drew me in, saved me from adolescent hell, and made me want more. Interestingly, at the time I would have killed for the spin-off games and movies and so forth that exist surrounding FFVII now--but, at the time, all I had was a fan fiction website and my own brain. So I made due.

I'm so glad I did, because I think it was one of the truest things to myself that I've ever done.



* I'll be honest, I'm sort of a purist where VII is concerned, though. I've seen Advent Children and read the plot synopses of a few other related FFVII stuff, but for the most part, I'm all about the original game**. I haven't felt the need to pursue the other material; for me, the original game is enough. And I actually think that is sort of a high compliment.

** Speaking of the original game, there were rumors of a remake of FFVII for the PS3 when the system first came out, mostly based around a technical demo for the system, embedded below. Now that the PS4 is just gaining popularity, rumors once again abound of a remake. I'm cautiously optimistic. I honestly doubt one will be made, but let me be the first to say it (or probably not the first, but whatever): if they remake FFVII for the PS4, I'll but a PS4 immediately if only to play that game. Because it will be amazing. (Or it won't...but it'll sure take me back.)

#FIF: THE REAPERS ARE THE ANGELS

If I had to choose an all-time favorite novel, Alden Bell's The Reapers are the Angels just might be it. Really, that's all that needs to be said.*

But I'll say more anyway.

I mentioned The Reapers are the Angels (we'll call it TRATA for short) in a post a couple years ago in which I geeked out a bit over everything zombie. If anything, my feelings for the book have only grown since then. I've actually been meaning to do a reread of it, but I've been so busy reading and writing other things that I haven't gotten around to it. (Which, incidentally, is another testament to the awesomeness of this book. I rarely, if ever, reread anything. There is so much out there I want to yet read, it is impossible to justify. But there are a few exceptions, and TRATA is one of them.)

The narrative centers around a young girl, Temple. In a lot of ways, TRATA is your typical zombie post-apocalypse story: Temple fends off the dead. She also fends off humans, and one who is hunting her in particular. But it's a coming of age type story, too. And it's about miracles. And the language. You'd never think a zombie apocalypse novel could be beautiful, but guys...The Reapers are the Angels is beautiful.

On something of a side note, I recently played The Last of Us, a PS3 game that takes place in a post-apocalyptic, zombie-like world. And that game is surprisingly similar in tone to TRATA. If you liked one, I think you'll like the other. The Last of Us deserves a post unto itself, so hopefully I'll get around to that--in fact, an update on my zombie post from a couple years ago might be due. Zombie media has changed significantly even in just the past few years, and it might be interesting to talk about how.

The Reapers are the Angels is exactly the kind of story I love to read, and it's exactly he kind of story I want to write. I mean, I like zombies, so it's cool that this book has zombies in it. But what I love most is that it's about a character, and it examines closely that character and her role in the world around her. It presents a fascinating setting, but manages to make me truly care for Temple. And it makes me feel things. Like, emotions and stuff. Books that do that, at least for me, are kind of few and far between. Zombie books (or TV shows, or movies, for that matter) are even more rare. So, seriously...this one's a keeper.

Ok, and want to know the best part about writing this post? In checking out Alden Bell's website, I've just discovered that there's a sequel to TRATA. Exit Kingdom. Guys. This is amazing. AND I'M GOING TO GO BUY IT AND READ IT IMMEDIATELY.

You should, too.



* Because picking a favorite author, let alone a favorite book, is nigh impossible for just about any writer. Seriously, ask one. It really is. But, gun to my head, TRATA just might be the title I whisper. Definitely makes my top 5 favorite novels, in any case.

FORMATIVE INFLUENCE FRIDAY! (#FIF) - Chris Van Allsburg (or: KAFKA FOR KIDS)

First of all, as you can probably tell, I'm trying out a new format. No big changes, but I've added a picture to the banner (that really has nothing to do with anything except the fact that I enjoy being outdoors and if you use your imagination I could totally be shooting a bow in that picture), and done some color scheme tweaks. I can't say I love the blue, but the red was starting to grate. For now, I think it's a good change. We'll see what I think in a couple weeks.

Secondly, today shall henceforth be known as the day in which I began the weekly FORMATIVE INFLUENCE FRIDAY! I know, I know, could I think of a more boring name for anything ever? Probably not. That's why from here on out I'll pretty much always refer to it as FIF. Maybe even #FIF, because #hashtags are #awesome and #totallynotoutofstyleyet. But here's the thing: I've been meaning to talk about books, movies, and other media that I've always thought were awesome and have shaped me as a writer for some time, now, and what better way than this? Basically I'll just jump around the list on my Formative Influences page, eventually talking about each entry. Also, it'll be motivation for me to blog a bit more consistently, which is a good thing. I think. And, hey, maybe you'll learn something. Maybe I'll learn something, for that matter.

First up: Let me tell you about Chris Van Allsburg.

Basically, he's the man. As in he is really cool and if you haven't read any of his books, you should immediately because (1) they're children's books so they won't take much time, (2) they're beautifully illustrated, and (3) they are fascinating and creepy and even dark sometimes and I love them.

Believe it or not, many of you have probably already been introduced to Mr. Allsburg's work through the feature film Jumanji. Behold the trailer:



Yeesh. Were all trailers so long back then? Also, that was twenty years ago, almost. Weird. Also, yes, that is Kirsten Dunst. Anyway, the movie isn't awful, but Allsburg's book is better. If you don't recognize Jumanji, you'll almost certainly recognize The Polar Express, also based on an Allsburg book. And while both Jumanji and The Polar Express were solid Allsburg books, neither were my favorites. I preferred books like

The Garden of Abdul Gasazi, about a boy who stumbles into massive garden of eerily sculpted topiary trees--a garden with a dark secret.  Or

The Sweetest Fig, about a man who discovers figs that make dreams come true. He spends months studying dreams in an attempt to eat one of the figs on the perfect night, only to have his plans go tragically wrong. But then there's

The Wretched Stone, in which a ship finds a strange glowing stone on a remote island, a stone that the crew obsesses over, staring at it day in and day out (a thinly veiled but accurate metaphor for children watching television all the time).

And that's just naming a few. What I love most about Allsburg's work was the creepiness of it all. They were all children's stories, so nothing too crazy, but he still managed to create this eerie sense of worlds in which anything could happen. He paints fantastical places with both words and pictures. And, perhaps most of all, I loved how each of his stories made me think afterwards. There was always a mystery not quite answered, another hinted question behind the conclusion, that kept me thinking for days and weeks on end. For a little boy who loved imagining, there was hardly anything better. Allsburg's stories aren't hopeless, but they're certainly cautionary; and while perhaps not quite grotesque, they have their fair share of the absurd. Looking back, Allsburg's stories seems a strange precognitive echo of the effects Kafka would have on me much later.

So, if you haven't read Chris Van Allsburg, go read him. Now. Immediately. Read him to your kids, especially if you want them to just shut up and think for a few minutes (which is, I'm now realizing, a large reason my parents probably gave/read them to me...). Basically, Chris Van Allsburg is Kafka for kids. And that is freaking awesome.