Taboo Thoughts: What I'm Writing

Every now and then I have a creative outburst. Here's what I've been up to:

Disposable Culture - A cyber-terrorist calling him(?)self the Luddite threatens to delete the internet while an ambitious F.B.I. investigator tracks him-her-they to Sunrise Island, a leper colony for the digitally disgraced (and one of my favorite surreal settings). As a teacher filmed yelling at a student, a bunch of white people who were filmed saying the n-word, and a douche of a tech guru assert their agendas, they are forced to take sides based on if they think we really were better off without "that carcinogenic distraction in our pockets".

A Colossus Stirs - In a series of cities in an Egyptian fantasy setting, everyone has a choice to live among savage desert tribes, or in the cities, where the drinking water is clean and the land is fertile. The price of city living is existence under the eyes of the colossi, who destroy cities when the gods are displeased. Of course, being the gods, they never tell you exactly how you earned your genocide. When a city falls for the first time in centuries, the leaders of the known world have to figure out what the gods want before the colossi leave all the world a barren desert.

And if you're a gamer it was inspired by "Shadow of the Colossus", which features one of the best plot twists in gaming history. 

Not a Real Boy - If we create artificial life, what do we owe it? Dr. Ava knows she isn't supposed to feel anything for Jep, the synthetic child she's raising. She knows the purpose for his existence is both essential and loathsome, but it will save "real" children. What does a creator owe her creation, if anything at all?

Billy Currock is Consumed - Paternal abandonment meets shark fin soup. And...scene.

His Fascist Ex - I'm dangerously close to halfway done with my third novel, where a has-been author watches the rise of the American Hitler from his bar stool. His story could derail his ex-boyfriend's ascension among the homophobic American right, but he's reluctant to tell it because of lingering feelings of guilt and loyalty. He is talked into telling his story by a handsome newcomer, who may be with one of the leftist militias or may be testing his loyalty on behalf of his powerful, and paranoid, ex.

The Zombie Apocklips Ain't for Queers - Virus, not undead, and the way the virus works is you can save yourself by passing it on quickly to someone else. As a side-effect, the person you sacrificed to save yourself will never stop hunting you. I wanted a personal zombie apocalypse. Also, the protagonist is gay and he finds refuge among the type of people who stored a lot of ammo and canned food (Trump voters who ain't too fond a lib'ral book learnin'). And the zombie tracking him is his husband. It's all about finding the courage to reach across the aisle to defeat a common enemy.

But the President still gets to appoint Supreme Court Justices without the Senate saying no to every possible nominee in advance. Let's not have any motherfucking confusion about that one.

-James Russell

P.S. and tiny author celebration: Thanks for getting me across the 5,000 view mark!

Let's Disagree in 2016

I have conservative friends, and we agree on very little. We bond over agreeable topics like sports and alcohol as a warm up to arguing, our real shared passion. Sometimes it gets heated and I'll question if my friends' arguments aren't a little too missile-happy and they'll question if my ideas aren't a bit naive. Or to put it in "Team America: World Police" terms, I'll say they're thinking like dicks and they'll say I'm thinking like a pussy.

The point is, we critique the ideas, not the person.

At some point, someone will casually suggest that we not talk politics. We're at a party. We should "keep it light". By this they mean gossip about the neighbors, like them. One thing my conservative friends and I agree on wholeheartedly is contempt for this suggestion.

As far as personal contempt, there is one type of person we can both agree on having nothing but spite for. This person is called "politically correct" but there are plenty of them on both sides of the aisle. This person is addicted to a drug that's hit the market slowly over the past few decades. The drug is fake indignation.

You know the type. They spoil every discussion by listening on the periphery, waiting for a chance to "be offended". Once they've declared their offense, loudly and in hyperbolic fashion, they inevitably hold their hands out.

What do they expect? A cookie? Tire coupons?

They expect apologies and reparations because you stated an opinion and they had a feeling. But unless your opinion was an outright declaration of racism (as in race A is always > than race B) or a "we ought to round up all the _______ people" and they're a ______ person, you likely don't owe an apology. You are allowed to have opinions. Other people are allowed to have feelings in response to your opinions. But their feelings do not inherently take priority over your opinions.

We should have a standard response for an indignation-addict when they hold their hands out: Congratulations on identifying your emotions, but you are not entitled to any form of compensation. Or, in the terms of the cosmic pessimism of Stephen Crane, "A man said to the universe, 'Sir, I exist.' 'I know,' the universe replied, 'but this has produced in me no sense of obligation.'"

The trouble with indignation addiction is that it puts vital debate in a deep freeze by creating toxic levels of self-censorship. Perhaps worst of all is what it's done to college campuses: the places where new ideas used to be born via free, passionate disagreement. Many comedians won't play college campuses anymore because the audiences are so uptight they're immune to comedy. That's tragic. Immunity to comedy is usually a hallmark of dictatorships and theocracies.

We always need to debate certain balances in our society. Taxation and government services will always be linked, so we will always need to debate the level of taxation and government services we need. Liberals are likely to remain suspicious of the profit motive while conservatives are likely to continue to revere it. We need to find a better balance between security and freedom. There are no solutions without discussing these topics civilly, without hair-trigger over-reactions and censorship based on emotion.

According to a recent Princeton study, we are now functionally an oligarchy rather than a democracy. We need to talk about that.

More Americans have been killed in the U.S. by lightning since 9/11 than by terrorists. Does this mean we should spend trillions on a never-ending war on clouds? We need to talk about that.

Right-wing Christian terrorists have killed more Americans in the U.S. since 9/11 than Muslim terrorists (48 > 45). We need to talk about that.

Most importantly, this is an election year. Contrary to many of my liberal friends, I want to hear everything the Trumps of the world have to say. I want them to reveal themselves via their free speech. They are, in effect, on a public job interview. The last thing I want them to do is shut up. I want to hear which candidates on either side promise massive infrastructure projects (expensive) and tax cuts (expensive) and a lower national debt (expensive) with no explanation of how that magic trick works. I love it when they show me they're lying because the promises they make contradict basic math.

Let's not allow our freedom of speech to be frozen by the imagined right of an emotional few to never be offended. Though our society isn't exactly suffering from an over-abundance of compassion, we can't let the feelings of a few end our most vital conversations before they even begin.

Sticking up for Downers

I need to vent about a disturbing trend. Frequently, the same tiny publishing houses willing to read unsolicited work also seem to want the work they receive to be "life-affirming". (The other variable at play here is I'm often sending work to gay publishers, but I've noticed it's started to bleed out into the mainstream as well.)

Where did this phantom obligation come from? I understand and accept my responsibility to be entertaining, to pull my reader's face down the page. I understand and cope with the fact that in our whiz-bang, lookey-here, squirrelly little world, the moment my story gets too info-dumpy or formulaic, people will be off to play Candy Crush or watch Youtube videos where cats do fun shit. And I understand the need for some kind of takeaway-moral-life lesson-theme-point.

But who says it has to be happy?

Disney and Pixar have to be happy (though admission of sadness played a big role in deepening "Inside Out"). Not even young adult literature exists under this burden. Why are so many of the gateway publishers asking newcomer authors to be artificially bubbly? There's a whole mask on the theater symbol dedicated to frowning. Tragedies are all over the canon.

In the gay publishing world, there's logic behind it, even if that logic is flawed. The idea is we can't be downers because we're already asking our readers to deal with gay, and their tiny little minds can't possibly do two things. But every talented author I've ever talked to about this, gay or straight, has always operated under the assumption that their readers, by virtue of being readers in an instant gratification culture, are fairly sharp people. Like these veteran authors, I'm disinterested in writing for dumbasses. They have coloring books, T.M.Z., and Trump. They're all set.

The music of Joy Division, Depeche Mode, The Cure, The Smiths, and Nirvana has endured, in part, because sadness is a thing. The tragedy-twinged music of The Wombats, Atlas Genius, and Anberlin is likely to endure for the same reason.

Gillian Flynn's books, and books like "We Need to Talk about Kevin" and "Brutal Youth" are sad as hell. They are indispensable specifically because of their attempts to wrestle with truly scary emotional material. Depression and suicide aren't by-products of exposure to sadness, they are by-products of pressure (internal and external; real and imagined) to hide sadness. Sad work often finds a "life-affirming" message via a back road. If a reader can learn from the success of a hero's virtuous choices, it stands to reason they can learn from the mistakes of weak and even vile characters. The assumption that readers can't handle the long road is cynical and destructive.

So gatekeeper publishers, please open your minds a bit more to characters who don't overcome, settings with all the inherent joy of Snake Mountain in "He-man", and endings where the hero bleeds out while reaching for the magic whatever. This joy requirement thing is anathema to creativity, and ultimately that type of damage to the form can't benefit the bottom line you might think you're protecting.

Why Liberals Shouldn't Rejoice in the Flatlining Republican Brain

So the Republican debate tonight has a certain freak show appeal. Watching it is like viewing a broadcast from some alternate universe where the Bush war in Iraq was a grand idea, Obamer is still a moose-lamb from Kenyer, and the President is also a Nazi who, like all Nazis, believes health care is a human right.

Except one of these assholes could be our president in 2016, so this isn't funny.

Presumably, Hillary won't drop the ball. She was smart enough to send a fundraising e-mail during the debate blasting the whole stage of goons for what they are. But before my fellow liberals get smug, I'd like to point out this bird can't fly with a dead right wing.

From the perspective of winning elections, it's lovely that Republicans have given up on evolution - not just the scientific principle, but every definition of the word. They're still advocating for a giant wall to keep the brown folks out - a giant infrastructure project brought to you by the people whose toxic philosophy won't allow them to invest in any infrastructure whatsoever. Also, they're going to do it without raising taxes or going into debt. Maybe the plan is to have Mexicans build it from the south and then just yell over the wall that we can't pay them because there's a wall in the way. Or maybe they want to continue their grand plan of making our country so shitty that no one wants to come here.

Where is the William F. Buckley? I disagree with his philosophy, but he at least attempted to use facts and figures to justify his agenda. Where are the conservatives who felt obliged to live in a fact-based reality? Where are the brains on the right? I'd settle for a P.J. O'Rourke - a conservative with a sense of humor who's willing to admit when his philosophy falls short.

But he's nowhere. Look at this stage. Reality-show bimbos. Entitled trust fund brats with grey streaks. Bullies having hissy fits, using bluster and volume in a vain attempt to hide their naked ignorance.

We deserve better.

And there's another reason this is no good. When Wall Street sees these amateurs for what they are, they pollute the Democratic party with their money, seeing us as the only adults in the room. We wind up with centrist Democrats who won't stand up to Wall Street when it matters, along with frothing, infantile Republicans. Then everyone loses faith in elected government and falls for the big lie: the private sector can do it better. This is how democracy slips into oligarchy.

If you're a Republican, have the dignity to be ashamed of these men. Your party deserves a fact-based candidacy. This country needs a legitimate adult candidate from both parties. I didn't support Obama when he was wrong about T.P.P. and torture. I worry that Hillary is too close to Wall Street. I know that Bernie, who I love, is unelectable. We have to be honest about the flaws our leaders display.

And if you want political comedy, try "The Campaign". Like most great comedy, it isn't totally joking.

Why You Should Still Love Game of Thrones

Hating Game of Thrones is the new loving Game of Thrones. Sometimes, I swear I don't want to keep up with our disposable culture.

SPOILERS ABOUND BELOW.

The most delicate balancing act in writing fiction is the one between realism and optimism. Get too real with your work, and people will be bummed out and stop reading or viewing. They have more entertainment options and less leisure time than ever, so they don't want you to depress them. They can be depressed at work.

On the other side, if a writer is too bubbly, they're irritating and not credible, but that's never been the extreme Game of Thrones was in danger of reaching.

I have two theories about Westeros: It's either a glorious metaphor for that too-real human inability to band together even in the face of annihilation, or George R.R. Martin hates Ren fairs and wants us to know. Let's explore the first theory.

The White Walkers are a metaphor for corporate greed, climate change, or if you're a conservative, the more whimsical "perils" of gay marriage and paying your fucking taxes like the rest of us. All the bickering, back-stabbing, and abuse of honorable people on the show is just a terrible reflection of a society unable to pull together to face a force of destruction that threatens everyone equally.

So that's a bummer. But as a viewer and reader, I don't care, because it rings true. We are, in fact, fucking the world right up. We are, in fact, paralyzed about what to do about it. Good for Martin and the television writers for wrapping this important call to action in an entertaining package.

I think realism should forgive a lot of the perceived sins of this show and book series. That Sansa scene that had everyone I know barking at one another over their draft beers at liberal dinner parties? I feel like the writers were in a bind. If you focus on the rape, you're exploiting peoples' pain. If you cut away to another character who's (technically) male, you're making it all about him. The only change they could've made would've been one of those "let's focus on this random candle" shots. And that's cliché, the worst crime in a world we apparently have to remind ourselves is fictional.

The feminist argument neglects the fact that Dany was exactly like Sansa at the beginning of the show. She was powerless, beautiful, and not particularly wise. But she learned and fought and got a little lucky with her friends. Isn't that how everyone makes it? They work hard, get lucky, and have support. Sansa is a hard luck character with very few resources at her disposal. She would be victimized in this world. Realism ought to forgive the perceived sin.

And let's give the television writers and directors some credit: all those "boring" early episodes built up to the best 1-2-3 punch HBO has had since the last three episodes of The Sopranos. (The point of the diner scene was that the family was always going to be waiting for the sword to drop, and I submit to this day it was brilliant.) The climactic action was great specifically because of the slow boil that preceded it. How many times did you re-watch the battle of Hardhome? How about Drogon and Dany in the arena? And Brienne finally avenging Renly!? The show might be doing a better job of resolving storylines than the book at this point.

On the other hand, look at all the people alive in the books but dead on HBO. I love that Martin was secure enough to let the show be an independent vision of his world. Yes, I know he's receiving roughly nine trillion dollars in return, but as a control freak, I still salute him. And I hope Stannis wins in the book and the two visions diverge completely. I would find each one entertaining.

As for the Ren fair thing, I was only half-kidding. Maybe Martin wanted to skewer our odd romantic re-imagining of Medieval England. Why did we ever look back on that age with any sense of whimsy? Plagues, rapes, poverty, pollution, death. That's our past, and it will be our future if we can't get our shit together.

So I'm not hopping off the bandwagon just because someone decided that's the trend. I love this world on television and in literature and if it ends with Dany and Tyrion failing to stop the White Walkers I'll stand up and salute the courage of writers who refused to pander to their audience just because hope sells. When Littlefinger said "There is no justice but what we make", that rang true to me. Perhaps if we evolve our expectations as readers and viewers, we'll get something better than predictable franchises and inferior reboots. Despite the trend toward huffy disapproval, I can't wait to see what dark place Game of Thrones takes me next.

The "Becomes Pitch"

The pitch for "Breaking Bad" became almost as famous as the show in writing circles: Mr. Chips turns into Scarface. I call this the "becomes pitch". Writers tend to praise brevity, and whether you find the spoiler-ish nature of this approach off-putting, it's hard to deny its power as a writing exercise. The becomes pitch is a great test for whether or not you know what the heart of your novel or short story is. You can then potentially use it to quick sell your story.

This method has its drawbacks. You have to link your existing protagonist at both the beginning and end of the novel to a character or public figure just about anyone could immediately identify. If your potential publisher doesn't recognize one of them, your pretty little query gets recycled. Also, it doesn't allow for those truly original characters who can't be linked to an existing archetype.

I feel confident about selling my first novel, "Jesse Rules", because it passes the becomes pitch test: Holden Caulfield becomes Leopold and Loeb. I'm kind of cheating on the end there, but it's hard to identify one of those sneering psychos without the other. And I'm disinterested in a publisher who doesn't know those names.

Of course, this is an exercise in reduction, but what else could one call taking your big, beautiful, nuanced piece of art and selling it in a one-page cover letter and synopsis? Some writers are probably turned off by the very idea of taking their wonderfully complex machine and limiting it to the protagonist's main arc. But given limited audiences and publishers, reduction is a necessary skill.

I can't reduce my fantasy novel to a quick tag yet, though I'm leaning toward "Frodo becomes an atheist Martin Luther". It needs work, in part because the hero's journey is the most typical part of my fantasy novel. I'm also completely ignoring the villain's journey, because I have no idea which archetypal figures to link him to.

The becomes pitch can be oddly addictive. "Gone Girl" can be "Every missing white girl becomes Satan's bitch puppeteer". Tyrion's journey in "Game of Thrones" can be "Useless drunk dwarf becomes heroic drunk dwarf". It could be a party game for demented English majors. Or a way to kill time at the asylum.

Try it and see if it helps you identify the center of your story, or use it to see which of your stories are ready for public consumption.

Best of the Big Bads

The rise of the anti-hero changed television storytelling. It also changed the nature of antagonists. If the hero is a bit of a villain, their antagonist has to be a truly irredeemable bastard.

I teach my students to think of the protagonist as the focal point of the story, rather than the "good guy". In fact, a protagonist struggling with self-destruction (or failing to struggle) might face an antagonist who actually has their best interests at heart. As long as there's a conflict, it doesn't really matter, and most of the best stories don't deal with black-and-white right-and-wrong.

The phenomenon has hit literature as well, with Gone Girl being a good example of an imperfect (to say the least) protagonist - the selfish and philandering Nick Dunne - being made sympathetic by contrast when compared to his wife Amy, who with her rape-framing, media manipulation, and murder is "gone" in every sense of the word. Another good literary example is the journey of Jaime Lannister in A Song of Ice and Fire - from an arrogant and incestuous would-be child murderer, to one of the last beacons of honor left in Westeros as of book five. George R.R. Martin takes us there by contrasting Jaime against sellswords (The Bloody Mummers in the book; Roose Bolton's henchmen in the show), his ruthless father Tywin, and his power-grubbing sister-lover Cersei. (To be fair, next to that bitch face, one might mistake Vlad Putin or Dick Cheney for mildly human.) Chopping off his hand was a nice touch, because when he couldn't just win with a sword, he had to change everything about who he was.

As for television, I picked three anti-hero vs. big bad battles worth your time and Netflix subscription. Spoilers abound from this point down, so if you have "Sopranos" "Dexter" or "Breaking Bad" on your watch list, read the rest later.

Anthony Soprano vs. Livia Soprano
I gave late-season big bad Phil Leotardo an honorable mention below, but to me, this is always going to be the show that succeeded in making a mob boss look weak while making the viewer cower every time his elderly mother shuffled onto the screen. It's a shame the actress playing Livia died, because it would've been wonderful to see how Tony's giving her stolen airline tickets to see if she would rat him out or not - to see if she ever loved him at all - would've played out. (I know it was also tragic because a human being died, just saying.)

Livia's misery was so all-encompassing, she was less a person than a mobile black hole. Tony's laughably inadequate attempts to get her to enjoy any small activity at her nursing home quickly devolved into her exacerbating his depression, and eventually, her attempt to get his uncle to kill him. Her use of phony tears, revealing secrets at the worst possible time, and 'dementia' to avoid accountability, made Livia so terrifying that we had to root for the unfaithful, murderous career criminal she raised.

Honorable mention: Phil Leotardo was a square-headed old school don in the last seasons. His slow-simmering grudge over being robbed his chance at avenging his brother's death started with tough negotiations, graduated to verbal jabs, and finally led to the murder of Tony's brother in law in the show's best hit (all apologies to Big Pussy on the boat).

Dexter Morgan vs. The Trinity Killer
If you saw "Cliffhanger", you know John Lithgow is an amazing villain. "Dexter" was all about a serial killer with a code. He only killed killers who had evaded the justice system. As a forensic blood-spatter analyst, he was in a great position to mop up after himself. Season four of "Dexter" saw him struggling with balancing a new family with his "hobby". Enter Trinity, a serial killer doing a much better job of balancing family and slaughter. This is becoming a classic anti-hero vs. big-bad combination: Dexter has to face someone who is "more Dexter than Dexter". Eventually, Dexter realizes Trinity is only better at hiding, but then he has to face the fact that the balancing act he seeks might be impossible. By the time Dexter kills Trinity, Trinity has already figured out who Dexter is, and punished him like no big bad before or after. It was the series' dramatic apex.

Honorable mention: There were no other big bads anywhere in Trinity's league, but I give an honorable mention to the executive who ruined the series finale by saying Dexter couldn't die. Seriously, corporate douche, don't tell your writers how to write.

Walter White vs. Gustavo Fring
I love my big bad to be a chess master. Gus Fring from "Breaking Bad" was exactly that. Walt and Jesse had already clashed with lunatic drug lords by the time Gus came on the show, and Gus's calm was a wonderful contract to the mania of the earlier villains. Even when he cut an associate's throat in an agonizingly long scene that followed each and every one of his measured footsteps, Gus never lost his cool. He hid in plain sight, driving a used car and managing a chain of chicken restaurants. Later, they kept him 'untouchable' by keeping him off-camera, with Walt yelling at him through surveillance cameras in Gus's meth lab. Walt's powerless fury contrasted perfectly with Gus's placid domination.

Gus specialized in frustrating Walt by out-maneuvering him. When Walt put a bomb on Gus's car, he seemed to just 'sense' it and walk away. Later, when Walt finally blew half his head off, we were left with the impression Walt got lucky. Gus, cool to the end, walked calmly into the hall with half his head skeletonized and fixed his shirt before dropping dead. It was the series' most gruesome and enduring image.

Honorable mention: Gus's second-in-command Mike was also an amazing big bad, though Walt was actually worse than Mike. When Walt kills him in a cowardly sneak attack, Mike asks, "Jeez Walt, would you let me die in peace?" before slumping over dead. It reminded me of Edward R. Murrow asking Joseph McCarthy, "Have you no decency, sir?"

So here's to the big bads and the big roles they play in the stories we love. You can't have a (good?) anti-hero without one.

***And here's some self-promotion mixed with promotion of others: click below to see the latest collection featuring one of my short stories, along with eleven excellent tales of love, grief, desire, denial, and all the other emotions on my bi-polar to-do list.

http://www.amazon.com/Saints-Sinners-Fiction-Festival-2015-ebook/dp/B00TOUV04W/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1429839691&sr=8-1&keywords=saints+and+sinners%3A+new+fiction+from+the+festival+2015