17298--Three-ring Circus, One-man Show

I think I've mentioned this before: you can plan all you like, but you never know what'll unfold while writing until you're writing.

You plan things and then they change.  Not everything.  If that were the case, what writer would ever be able to plan anything?  Things change, though.  I've never labeled myself as either an architect or a gardener; a planner or a seat-of-the-pantser.

I don't believe in writer's block.  I do believe that if you're a writer who starts writing, you're going to end up going somewhere just as surely as if you were driving a car.  The car doesn't care whether you've planned a trip or not.

The general's plans seldom survive the battlefield.

This came up for me again while figuring out a scene and then writing the scene.  It sounds simple that way, but what happened was more like acting to me.  Or maybe directing.  Maybe both.  I found myself playing out the scene in my head, according to my notes.  I was figuring out where the characters were and what action was taking place.  While getting into the characters heads and letting get into their heads so I could get detailed on their movements and dialogue, one of them changed the crowd scene.  In that moment, the protagonist started talking with bystanders in the crowd scene.  It's something that wasn't supposed to happen and resulted in an impact that created ripples upon ripples.

Don't sweat it.  I'm not talking about impending tsunamis rising off the coast.  It just means extra work for me and a bit more depth for the story.  These are not bad things.  This is just the sort of thing that you should probably expect when you turn your brain into a forum for multiple personalities.  Getting into your work, just as when readers lose themselves in stories, you allow your imagination to take an active role in its development and open yourself to the possibility of surprises.  That's when you've arrived at what people describe as the characters writing themselves.  It's really still you, but you're playing all the parts in the puppet show.  At least you've given them something specific to talk about.  It's not a disorder if you're in control of it.

For some people, it's group therapy.  For others, it's a playdate with some imaginary friends.  How the story is told and how much of it ends up on the pages is all for you to decide.  Your writing is whatever you decide it is to you.  If you can't, don't worry--there's always somebody out there who'll be happy to slap labels on you and whatever you do.  When you're creating it, though, however you get yourself from start to finish, make sure it serves you-- whether exercise, entertainment or something else-- as whatever you need it to be.

16817--Alapeanutbuttersandwiches!

   Magic!  It's a loaded word, carrying more weight for some than others.  Likewise, it bears the possibility of meaning something different to virtually everyone.  When I'm writing stories, I give thought to how superhuman abilities (those outside mundane experience) will be portrayed and their capacities.  Any writer who is going to use such abilities as significant elements of their stories should do so.  You may have a detailed system formulated or you may be in the early stages of doing so.  You may have no idea how to proceed at all.  Below are some of the ways I handle magic in my writing.  Maybe something there can help you or just amuse you.  If you have any questions or would like help solidifying rules of your own, I'm always happy to help.

Psychic abilities are, naturally, consigned to the realm of the mind.  Those I treat as tools of the brain.  Some writers use them interchangeably or synonymously with magic.  Some plots may have characters using one system to fake the portrayal of another (using psionics or magic to create the illusion of some physical prowess or pretending that a mental ability is actually a magical one, for example).  They're extraordinary ways for the brain to interact with the world without having to use the normal systems.  Telepathy allows the brain to bypass speech and hearing.  Psychokinesis lets the brain bypass the use of hands.  Pyrokinesis saves the brain a trip to gather fuel and matches.  The supercharged brain really starts to show its stuff when it allows someone to do things he couldn't normally do with any amount of skill or practice, such as reaching and perceiving through solid barriers or evacuating a room of its air.

Magic has other capabilities.  Magic allows for simple shortcuts, but with the proper use of will and imagination it also allows physics to be ignored or at least taunted.  Some users of magic make this sort of thing look easy, while the cost to others can be seen more readily.  By that, I mean, some are born to magic: faeries, dragons, even the rare human adept.  For such beings, use of magic comes so naturally that any cost for common exploitation of their special communication with the universe seems negligible.

For those without such easy access, things become more complicated.  That's when the traditional concepts of sacrifice become involved: years of study, items of rarity or unique sentiment, blood, lives...  One of the common sacrificial items I decided to incorporate into stories was precious gemstones, with different spell effects requiring specific stones that would be consumed with the initiation of each spell.  Different rules, of course, apply to enchanted items that may have been imbued with the power to generate a specific spell effect or to take on a unique quality in perpetuity.

Beyond the quick and dirty spell there will exist effects of signifcance that require more effort and power.  That's where the ritual comes in, which calls for one or more magic practitioners to perform a spell of grand working.  It will, of course, be something done in more than one part and call for the use of many more spell components than normal.  A magic circle and ancient symbols of power are certain to play a part.  Depending on the nature of the ritual, fire, water or blood will likely be essential elements, possibly all of them.  Then, we get into the most dangerous part.  It's something that may have been going on since the use of the simplest of spells a given magician has been using, but when moving up to castings of greater power, additional assistance and higher costs go along with the action.  That's when your characters get into talking with the mysterious entities from other dimensions.  To such beings, mere mortals may have pledged all manner of things tangible and not in exchange for access to fractions of their vast unknowable power.  These relationships tend to create situations where a character is beholden to another in some manner of intractable bargain, which is a source of great tension or conflict when properly utilized.

Additionally, the nature of each type of magic relegates it to a specific universal alignment that is connected to a dominion of influence.  Within each alignment are subsets of discipline governing the uses of the magic.  Lastly, each alignment is also associated with a color.  These details make the creative aspects seem rather dry and technical when spelled out like that, but breaking them down in that manner affords consistency to a subject that could, by its very nature, run out of control if not properly managed.  Assigning specific areas of influence allows me to know ahead of time things that a particular magic slinger might do and things that might be beyond her ability.  Some facets of your planning may produce results that are never again seen by any eyes beyond your own, but I don't think your characters or your stories can suffer from you knowing too much about them.  Consideration of such rules and limitations is something I feel to be important because of a memory I devoted its own brain cell to long ago: if anything can happen, who cares what does?



Allow me to illustrate the result of my machinations with a few characters from Theobroma: Child of Fire and Blood:
   The necromancer Attan relies on both years of study and his devotion to Death to empower his practice of magic; Attan's invocations are facilitated through his raven familiar Dalar, especially anything requiring greater complexity or effort; he dresses largely in red, the color of the alignment of Dark Order and thus the color of any of his magical special effects; aligned with Dark Order, many of his spells are associated with Time as well as Death; because he works with one of the Order alignments, his workings have a foundation in dedicated study and preparation (including carrying a hefty personal grimoire and numerous powders, potions and spell components)

   Kieren Sha is part-faerie, aligning her with Bright Chaos; any visible manifestations of her magic use are as purple as her eyes; the use of specific magical effects comes to her easily, but cost her in physical stamina; because she is associated with a specific alignment by virtue of her birth, magical effects of other alignments are particularly difficult for her to access; because her magic stems from a Chaos alignment, it has a foundation in emotion rather than study (cracking a book to learn a spell is foreign and in some cases loathsome to her).  Born a child of Bright Chaos, her connection to Coyote, the realm of Magick and any attendant gifts have not required her to make any bargains, but still put her under the immortal trickster's special notice more often than she finds convenient.

   Lar Kwa and Bobalaren are both less disciplined users of the enticing golden light of Dark Chaos magic; the alignment gives both men special access to the dominion of Souls, Bob uses that magic primarily for detecting untruths and reading auras while Lar Kwa practices manipulating and enthralling others; Bob's uses of magic are relatively minor (mostly relying upon enchanted items), Lar Kwa's are far more intense and costly (draining years from his life) driven by boundless ambition and eagerly indebting himself to ancient and merciless gods with whom he has...special relationships.


Every magic user takes it upon themselves to find their way, discerning some path by which they feel they may get the universe's attention, for good or ill, and dealing with the consequences later.  The writer who would deal with such characters, as always, has the privilege of squeezing as much entertainment out of their journeys and choices as possible.  That doesn't mean letting utter chaos run amok, but imposing limitations as one would on a willful child.  Certainly, display the incredible, but never forget that such things are most interesting when the event the audience sees as fantastic impacts on the characters as a fantastic pain in the ass.

16805--Settling Differences Between Good and Evil

Phantom Limb: "We're not so different, you and I."

Brock Samson: "Yeah, I don't need another 'We're not so different' speech.  I get those a lot."

Phantom Limb: "Yes, I'm sure you do."

There's a strange intimacy that exists between antagonists and protagonists.  The dynamic interplay of their differences creates both attraction and friction in a dance of interconnectedness.  Despite their enmity, they are drawn into each other's orbits, each one's movements influencing the other.  One is driven to create Chaos while the other's passion is to preserve Order.  One is driven to commit the crimes that the other is dedicated to stop.

They are Lex Luthor and Superman, one striving to freely exploit as much of the world as he can while the other champions life and freedom for all.

They are Moriarty and Holmes, linked by the crafting of criminal intrigues versus the drive to unravel challenging puzzles.

They are any politician's image and the image of the politician's opposition, each contesting to propagate the best lie.

In characters, the simplest form of the dynamic may exist between one character seeking a goal and the other blocking the attainment of that goal.  Very often, at least one of the two will hate the other.  In the more complex dynamics, the two may have begun as friends and, though their choices have put them at odds, there could still exist a measure of respect between them--if not mutual, at least one for the other. 

Their backgrounds often serve to highlight the friction between them, whether they perceive themselves as having come from a loving family environment or one fraught with tension.  Do they consider their formative years to have been easy or difficult?  A protagonist will usually see their life experiences as the foundation for positive growth.  Some of the most bitter antagonists can go through the same experiences as the protagonist they oppose yet find excuses not to grow at all.  The  most complex antagonists will find justification to respond to their struggles in such an extreme fashion that while the hero might consider their paths to differ greatly, the hero can still understand the choice of his opponent.  Perhaps more importantly, readers can accept it as a viable choice that they themselves might have made.

Professor Xavier and Magneto are prime examples of opponents locked in a dynamic where two friends came to be at odds by choosing differing paths to achieve similar goals.  Both characters want to see the world grow into an environment where mutants can live safely.  Xavier believes this can be achieved through peaceful coexistence between mutant and non-mutantkind.  Magneto believes this is only possible if mutants rule over society.  He respects Xavier's efforts, even supports them, but his own suffering at the hands of Nazis has soured his faith in the potential of humanity's goodness and a special intolerance for racism.

In a relationship of such complexity, hero and villain might ultimately come to a point where, even though they continue at cross purposes, they recognize a validity in each other's mission.  By that, meaning that while they don't kiss and make up, they don't go out of their way to oppose each other directly either.

Is there a hero-villain pairing that resonates with you as being particularly profound?

16722--Grappling with the Dark Side

  I suppose you could say that I am troubled by the "darker" emotions of mankind.  In its way, that's good.  They're supposed to bother us enough to move from them and toward the light.

Christian dogma demonizes the seven deadly sins.  In the comics, Billy Batson was warned of the seven deadly enemies of man prior to being transformed into Captain Marvel.  In film, we were warned in "Seven", among others, and by Jedi Master Yoda that fear paves the way to anger, hatred and suffering.  I was reading the description of a psychologist's functions recently and couldn't help but note that it sounded an awful lot like what writers do.  I guess that's why shrinks are always writing books.  Conversely, writers are supposed to be analyzing the hearts and minds of the people, studying them and finding new ways to explain their mysteries.  We're supposed to "go where the pain is" and poke it, potentially exorcising it.

Psychiatric professionals have patients.  Writers have characters.  Whichever profession you're in, you have to get your subjects to talk about their problems, but writers have to make up all the words.  I think writers have the tougher job.  Writers either have to find people in the world to pattern characters after or create them anew.  Either way, presenting the readers with the most complex and interesting characters calls for searching the deep, dark corners of the psyche.  That's going "where the pain is".  That's also where I feel like I have trouble with the dark side.

  Look at Iago.  Why did he plot Othello's ruin and not care who had to fall with him?  Because he hated the Moor.

Like Peter Parker, Anakin Skywalker feared he would suffer the loss of more loved ones.

Auric Goldfinger lusted for gold.

Batman battles to keep his wrathfulness in check as he wages his war of justice against crime.  The Punisher has no such internal conflict and gives full vent to his rage and pain, though the two suffered similar loss. 

Whether dealing with the Shadow, Sherlock Holmes, Humbert Humbert, Leopold Bloom, Madame Bovary, James Bond, Philip Marlowe, Mina Harker, Carrie, Edmond Dantes, Long John Silver, Fagin, Susan Calvin, Gatsby, Elektra or Hamlet, you're involved with characters possessed of complexity that makes them interesting for their tarnished and shadowy parts.

My trouble with writing for such characters is identifying with them.  I tend to be a happy guy.  According to those who know me, I have no vices.  Does this mean that as a Real Life character I'm dull as dry toast?  Nah, I still like to play and have interests that require moving about.  Plus, I've madness enough to keep people looking at me oddly when I talk.  My drinking friends in college said they were OK with me hanging with them not because they had a guaranteed driver but because I didn't give them shit about how much they drank.  In fiction and reality, I like good guys and dislike bad guys, though I can respect a well-crafted character.  I'm not going to like them, though, and I don't understand when people do.  You know who cheers for bad guys?  Other bad guys, that's who.

I never saw "Alien Nation" in the theater.  When the weekend came that my friend and I (he knows who he is) decided to watch it, he offered a warning.  "It's a good movie," he said, "but it's going to bother you.  It's got a lot of hate in it."  This isn't the kind of conversation I imagine most guys have about movies, but he sure called it.  He was right about it and me.  The film had a lot of overt and subtle racism and sometimes just other faces of hate.  I don't like hate.  I'm not afraid.  I'm not angry.  I don't hate anyone.  Well, Iago gets me worked up, but he's not real.  Oh, and Lex Luthor.  Grrrrrr...

Maybe I should've given more thought to all that spirituality and enlightenment stuff before I went exploring all those martial arts and doing all that ego detachment and meditation.  Maybe thinking about it wouldn't have made a difference.  I've always liked the good guys.  For me, that means writing holds extra work in my own head when I'm crafting a balance that keeps the bad guys from being "over the top" evil and good guys from being flawless.

Actually, that makes me think of an experiment to make a really bad bad guy and a really good good guy and then swap two or three of their traits.  That could be interesting.

Anyone else have any good ideas for adding dimensionality to personalities?

16586--Don't Settle for a Spark

If you're going to write, don't be shy about it.  Jump in with both hands on the keyboard and your brain in high gear.  Creative spark?  Tap into the energy of the humongous 3500 DD batteries at the center of the world (they keep it all spinning, trust me) and set the whole roof on fire with your inventiveness!  The readers didn't come to not believe what you're offering.  They suspended that at the door, so load up and hit 'em with both barrells.

This means it's up to you to cut loose, dust off your imagination (proof that our ancestors didn't waste all that evolution) and write outside your experience.  I know, for years people have said, "write what you know", but that's also brought us to everything written being derivative of everything that's come before.  Some of that is attributable to writers and some of it to audiences.  Audiences like what's familiar to them and writers often find it easier to just give them that.  This is why formulaic sitcoms and dramas perform better on television than anthology shows.  Likewise, a book series gains an edge over a single work that is new and unknown.  We all know who James Bond, Sherlock Holmes and Superman are and we know what to expect from them.  More importantly, we don't want them to change.

"But, Phoenix, characters are supposed to grow and change in stories."  Well, some characters are supposed to and some aren't.  Our heroes are icons who are strong enough to resist the chaos of change, facing challenges that would tear others down, all presented in the context of an inventively told tale.  Remember those guys I just mentioned?  I didn't have to describe them because you know who they are, how they do things and what they represent.  What's special from one story to the next is how it's told.

Even a story that one might consider wholly unique under the sun, requires some familiar elements in its structure or it'll be too alien to find much of an audience and leave its writer to be either mocked or locked away.  The mass audience likes not feeling completely lost.  The feeling that they can know and understand your characters helps your audience to relate to whatever's going on with those characters when you send them on whatever version of Mr. Toad's Wild Ride you cook up.  With luck they'll be able to skip the dizziness and nausea.