Classic Book Review: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
May 22, 2017, 08:23 AM Review, Writing PermalinkGiven the reach and influence The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has had into pop culture, along with the admiration many of my friends have had for the series since we were young teens, I expected this book to be well suited to my taste and a pleasure to read. Unfortunately, perhaps my expectations were too high.
While there were a few gems of imagination and pure oddity which rightfully belong in the larger pop-culture and literary canon of references, there were so many details which were weird, seemingly just for the sake of being weird, that the actual plot was drug to a glacial pace.
Furthermore, I found that the non-sequiturs humor, which I admit is perfectly in line with many great works of entertainment from the same era of UK humor, rarely landed for me, and again the jokes were so numerous they proved a huge distraction from the plot. One caveat I'll add, however, is that I can see where I might have found the rambling humor and saturation of visual oddity, a bit more appealing if I were 13 years old.
I had planned to read the entire series, and in fact, I bought all five books, but now I'm don't feel what I got out of this book warrants putting its successors at the top of my reading list.
While there were a few gems of imagination and pure oddity which rightfully belong in the larger pop-culture and literary canon of references, there were so many details which were weird, seemingly just for the sake of being weird, that the actual plot was drug to a glacial pace.
Furthermore, I found that the non-sequiturs humor, which I admit is perfectly in line with many great works of entertainment from the same era of UK humor, rarely landed for me, and again the jokes were so numerous they proved a huge distraction from the plot. One caveat I'll add, however, is that I can see where I might have found the rambling humor and saturation of visual oddity, a bit more appealing if I were 13 years old.
I had planned to read the entire series, and in fact, I bought all five books, but now I'm don't feel what I got out of this book warrants putting its successors at the top of my reading list.
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How Long Did It Take You to Write?
September 27, 2016, 09:27 AM Writing PermalinkThough my first novel has been out for only a year, I’ve already noticed there are a few questions that seem to arise over and over again from the prospective readers I meet while promoting the book. “Where’d you get the idea?” “Is it a series?” “Where is it set?” All are straightforward questions which are easy enough to answer. I believe, going forward as an author, I should expect to answer those same questions every time I step out into the world intending to push my stories onto the public. But then there’s another frequent question: “How long did it take you to write,” which isn’t quite so straightforward to answer. If you’re an author, is this one you hear often?
It’s not that I can’t remember when I first sat down and opened that new Word file which would become my manuscript, or that I can’t calculate the length of time between then and when the book came out. That’s simple. The difficulty in answering is in the implication the question gives of the asker. It is almost certain that they have an idea they’ve been harboring for their own novel, but have actually written little or nothing of it, and they’re trying to gain perspective on the work ahead of them if they move forward with it. Like a person standing at the bottom of a big hill, shouting to another who’s standing on top: “How far is it up?”
Knowing that a mountain of work lies ahead when one undertakes writing a novel, I feel obligated not to mislead a prospective writer, nor do I want to dissuade them. Writing a novel is likely to be measured in months and years, not days and weeks. On top of that, for a first time author, after they’ve finished they’ll likely spend more months, if not over a year hunting for a publisher, and should they find one, their publisher will likely spend months, if not a year, preparing the material and the book’s marketing before it is finally released.
That said, not all months are created equal. One author might spend 18 months writing their novel, but still be working a day-job at the same time, while another author might spend 6 months writing their novel, working on the book full-time. Sometimes the writing process involves waiting time. An author might finish a draft and have to put it down for a few weeks, or a few months, to return to it with fresh eyes. An author might also be using the services of an editor or a critiquing group between drafts, and be subject to weeks or a month, waiting for those notes, before digging in on the next draft.
I am personally working away on my next novel, with the intent of working on it full-time, but I find that having another book already out means organizing and traveling to personal appearances every few weeks, interviews, blogging and keeping up with social media to cultivate my audience, plus reading and reviewing fellow authors, which all take time. Thus, even full-time writing only allows for a part-time schedule of actually composing the words on the pages of my next manuscript. All of this makes telling that eager but inexperienced writer “a year,” “eighteen months,” “two years,” at best incomplete answers.
“How long did it take you to write?” Recently, I’ve stumbled on a relatively simple way to answer which fellow authors might find helpful to respond effectively, and which might truly impart accurate perspective to the asker. Measure the effort in hours.
I spent about 1,500 hours on my first novel, from page one of my first draft through the end of the polished manuscript that actually found me a publisher. (Though that is not the end of the process, mind you.)
Of course every author and every project are different, but now the prospective author can calculate a realistic approximation. If they can spend 40 hours a week on their manuscript, they might expect about 8 or 9 months for writing a novel similar in length to mine. If they can spend 50 or 60 hours a week, they might cut that down. If they work full-time elsewhere and raise a family, and can only spare 10 hours a week, they might realistically expect the project to take 3 years. In any case, hopefully the process will streamline with successive books.
To all you prospective authors, it’s a lot of work. I hope this helps. Good luck.
To all you established authors, how do you answer this question?
Originally Posted on "Marilyn's Musings" blog, March, 2015.
The Seed of a Story
September 15, 2016, 09:21 AM Originality, Story Idea, Writing Permalink
It’s a none-to-uncommon
question for authors, “where did you get the idea for your book?” But it’s not
always an easy question to answer. I wonder if we can do a little better?
For me, I have many
ideas swimming around in my head. Sometimes it’s a character, but I’m not sure
where I’ll use them. Other times it’s a setting, a plot twist, or just a moment
of intensity all without corresponding context. Once in a while, with a little
luck, a bunch of these ideas come together and form something bigger, a
foundation. Who’s to say which of that cluster was first, or even where it came
from?
With my recently
released novel, “Until the Sun Rises – One Night in Drake Mansion,” I similarly
can’t put my figure on any single element as having spawned the rest of my
tangled web. However, I can recall the
very first scene from the story I began developing.
The majority of the
novel is set in the present, but a portion takes place in the past. The first
past section involves a mysterious, secret, and very thematically dark magic
show which adds to the mystery set in the present with a parallel mystery to
unfold in the past. Essentially, it’s a tangential story line, a secondary
mystery that draws the reader to learn about certain characters pertaining to
the primary mystery and plot. It adds character depth, intrigue, and plot
layers. Of course the two plotlines intersect explosively, but it’s interesting
in retrospect for the secondary plotline to have been the genesis of the main
story, converse to what one might expect.
This magic show
moment and its characters were first. From there, I created scenes to give
readers background on the characters, to get you acquainted. Next, I developed
plot that puts the characters into that moment. After that, I developed
additional scenes to give that moment direct consequence, and more to show
readers what those characters do after that moment, how it impacted them. With this thread woven, I stepped back and
asked, “how can I make this even deeper, even more consequential, intriguing,
captivating?” The answer came with adding what eventually became the primary
plotline, which underwent it’s own similar development.
Returning to the
question, “where did you get the idea?” It feels like I just had that first
moment in my head. Did I see a weird magic show that made it dawn on me? Not
that I recall? Did I base the characters on something I saw, read, or heard? I
don’t think so. In fact, I believe I invented the scene and the character
specifically because I’d never seen anything like that scene before. The rest
was created to give others a chance to find it as interesting as I did.
Perhaps in the future
I’ll read an article and it will directly inspire a new story. Certainly that
occurs with non-fiction, and I can imagine the same for fiction - where a real
life story inspires a similar, but even more intriguing scenario. That just
hasn’t been my experience. In the mean time, perhaps a better go-to question
for authors is, “what part of your story did you explore first?” This might cut
to the desired incite into the creative process even faster.
Authors, what part of
your story did you explore first?
Originally Posted at the "Omni Mystery Blog," June, 2015.My First Vonnegut Experience, Though Likely Not My Last.
May 26, 2016, 09:26 AM Criticism, Writing PermalinkI've always been familiar with Vonnegut's name but not particularly versed in his material. I'd seen the movie based on his novel Mother Night, but outside of knowing a few titles, seeing his cameo in Back to School, and of course his connection with the University of Iowa, that was the extent of my familiarity. However, recently I'd encountered an intriguing, simple and playful, yet deep quote from Cat's Cradle. I felt it was time I gave Vonnegut a read and I was not disappointed.
The voice with which the book is authored is often playful, lighthearted, and downright fun, but the story itself bare quite biting criticism of many of society's driving forces - government and religion to name a few. Vonnegut eases into his opinions backhandedly and with an essentially neutral protagonist who is merely a victim of happenstance, landing readers on yet another drawback of such institutions before you know it.
The story of the book, my personal litmus test, starts with a very average seeming Joe. He's a writer and I suspect not-so-dissimilar to Vonnegut himself, conducting research for a novel. Along the way he encounters other seemingly unimportant characters, though by the end the narrator and almost every character along the way end up playing a role in what is essentially the end of the world. A master class is "raising the stakes" if every there was one. Undoubtedly Vonnegut's criticisms would not have been so palatable without the playful and surprising vehicle of this intriguing plot.
My only woe with Cat Cradle is that I didn't read it sooner.
The voice with which the book is authored is often playful, lighthearted, and downright fun, but the story itself bare quite biting criticism of many of society's driving forces - government and religion to name a few. Vonnegut eases into his opinions backhandedly and with an essentially neutral protagonist who is merely a victim of happenstance, landing readers on yet another drawback of such institutions before you know it.
The story of the book, my personal litmus test, starts with a very average seeming Joe. He's a writer and I suspect not-so-dissimilar to Vonnegut himself, conducting research for a novel. Along the way he encounters other seemingly unimportant characters, though by the end the narrator and almost every character along the way end up playing a role in what is essentially the end of the world. A master class is "raising the stakes" if every there was one. Undoubtedly Vonnegut's criticisms would not have been so palatable without the playful and surprising vehicle of this intriguing plot.
My only woe with Cat Cradle is that I didn't read it sooner.
Repetition of Story (It's Christmas)
December 8, 2015, 08:39 AM Christmas, Holiday, Originality Permalink
Christmas is nearly here and with all of it’s activities, I
find it also a unique time to analyze the repeating, or perhaps recycling of
stories. Of course story ideas are
recycled all the time not just at Christmas, however as a lover or originality I
find myself more forgiving this time of year, and I must wonder why.
Simply take a look at TV programing schedules around the
holiday and you’ll see what I mean. Be it reshowing of holiday classics, like A Christmas Story (1983) being shown for 24 hours straight; remaking holiday
classics, like A Christmas Carol every few years; or recycling a narrow
field of storylines into new, slightly parodied, stories, like your standard
made-for-TV Hallmark holiday movie, everywhere you look you stand to see the
repletion of a story.
One could argue that most stories released, be they movie,
book, or other, are derivative of earlier stories in some way, but to me, at
Christmas time it is far more prevalent, and far more transparent than the rest
of the year.
Christmas is a time when those of us who observe the holiday
tend towards that which is familiar. We like to see the same plays, the same
ballet, and yes the same movies as we have for years, decades even. Perhaps it
is our desire to relive our childhood, to relive and recreate memorable moments
from our lives that makes us, or at least me, particularly receptive to the
rehashing of a familiar story.
It’s also a time when we’re short on time. After the
presents are opened and when we have an hour to kill before heading off to
Grandma’s, we flip on the TV, and there we find that oh-so-familiar story. Maybe
we missed the first half hour, and maybe we’ll have to leave before it’s over,
but that won’t matter. We know the story so well; we’ll enjoy it just the same.
While they’re arguably not high cinema, I must admit to
taking in a holiday-esque, overindulgent sized portion of them. They’re perfect
for throwing on while engaging in other Christmas perpetrations – baking
cookies, decorating the tree, wrapping presents, addressing holiday cards, or
if you’re like me and my family, assembling our Lego holiday village for prominent
display.
When it comes to story, they’re typically very simple.
That’s what makes them perfect for uniting with other activities. They set the
mood, but if you have to walk out of the room a dozen times, you still never
fall behind in the story. I personally praise originality to a fault, and
strive for originality in every nook of my own work but this observation comes
without an ounce of criticism, that is honestly and truly why I like them.
It may be true that the storylines lack on variety. In my
estimation, holiday films generally fall into about five basic storylines. With
the most popular being the main character has lost the Christmas spirit due to
prioritizing their high-power career, sales at a store, or simply making money,
over family, friends, and Christmas, (e.g. A Christmas Carol) only to have a
twist of fate, and often a new romance restore their priorities and their
Christmas spirit. Also popular is the main character’s loss of a loved one
having soured their Christmas spirit, but through a twist of fate and yes, a new
romance, their Christmas spirit is revived. (Note, I’ll admit that the more
basically you describe a story, naturally, the easier it is to group a wider
range of stories together.)
Our familiarity as viewers with the core storyline is in
fact what allows us to so easily digest the stories, even when only casually
paying attention, which I mentioned before is paramount to the enjoyment.
Is it fine cinema? No. But tree shaped sugar cookies aren’t
fine cuisine and I’m still going to eat a few dozen before the New Year. So to
shall I indulge in recycled Christmas tales, and worry about my
mental-waistline in January.
"The Book Was Better” Part 2
May 26, 2015, 02:16 PM Adaptation, Screen vs. Page, Writing PermalinkRegarding the prevailing attitude toward movie adaptations of books, I will contend that books are not gospel. (In the non-religious definition of the word.)
Many choose to, or unwittingly, take the stance that a story
in novel form is the absolute embodiment of an author’s ideas, and therefore
anything else imparting that story, which differs in the slightest, is
inherently wrong. I believe this is at the root of criticism for novel
adaptations. I also believe this is mistaken and I assert the book is not
gospel.
As a screenwriter, one quickly learns your writing is
anything but absolute. Directors will ignore and change details, actors will
change lines, intentionally and accidentally, and that’s just the start of the
compromises between your vision and the resulting movie. A screenwriter’s
material is not gospel; it’s one interpretation of many. However, if it has a compelling
story and a deep emotional draw, all those people’s changes will be made in the
interest of telling the story well, even if they aren’t telling it the way you did.
This is the best for which a screenwriter can hope – that all the compromises
and changes made to your original work are done so in order to tell the story
well. This is a notion everyone needs to bring to books.
Having also written a novel, I can see the book is not the
100% embodiment of my story either. In my mind, the settings are so vivid I
could spend pages and pages describing each one, but that wouldn’t make for a
good read, so I cut it down to only what you need to know to get the feel, or
what elements of the setting will interact with characters, then I move
on. In my mind, I have elaborate back-stories
for every character, even those with only brief appearances. Again, interesting
to me, I could write pages and pages on them, but again not interesting if it
doesn’t affect the core story, so alas they’re largely omitted from the novel.
In my mind, I have lengths of story before the point in time
at which my plot begins as well as after the novel’s plot concludes. Again, the
book must have limitation in order to be a tight, moving, and engaging story,
so those elements get trimmed, though many writers may save them for sequels
and prequels. I suspect we’ve all begun books, which insufficiently trimmed
such excess and tangents, though fewer of us have finished said books.
To me, all this is what makes it exciting to talk with, and
ask questions to writers we love. If everything they possibly imagined was in
their book, there would be no need or interest in asking them about their work,
it would all be in the book. But the author cuts their internal story down to
only the richest element. When you love a detail or character, you ask the
author about it and they have much more information from the story in their
mind to share, and it’s wonderful.
Thus, I maintain that the book, in itself is a derivative of
a story. The only 100% accurate version of the story exits is the author’s
mind, and will only ever exist there. The book is a derivative of that story, a
trimmed, edited, and compromised output meant to streamline the story, to make a
derived version which is the most enjoyable for reading.
Many movies adapted from books are accused of doing the same
- trimming, adjusting, streamlining, and leaving out plot and details in order to
tailor the story into one, compact, and well-flowing movie. I pose this is just
another version of what has already taken place between the author’s mind and
the book, and is no more or less valid.
The format of a book being enjoyable to read requires this shaping, and
the format of a movie being enjoyable to watch also requires it.
I’ll go a step further. If the author’s story only exits in
its entirety within the authors mind, and that which reaches the pages of a
book is a derivative of that story, what reaches the readers mind is not even
that derivative. For much of what an author omits, be it back story or
descriptive details, we the readers fill back in from our own imaginations and
experiences. If an author chooses not to
elaborately describe a mundane waiting room, because it doesn’t serve the
story, we readers impose a vision comprised of all the mundane waiting rooms
we’ve sat in.
Even the author cannot account for all the details we
readers create for the story. The author can only hope to generally guide them.
Thus, the story that reaches the readers mind is in turn a derivative of the
story in the book, or (for those also versed in mathematics as I am) a second
derivative of the author’s story. This is why it is also enjoyable to discuss books
with fellow readers, to compare how the story is perceived given each
individual’s unique profile of added details and inherently differing second
derivative versions of the story.
This however poses another impossibility for adapted movies,
for we cannot compare a movie to an author’s internal story, nor can we
actually compare the movie to the story in a book. We can only compare a movie
to the second derivative story in our minds, which is unique to only us, yet we
expect the movie to live up to our vision.
The movie is also a second derivative. Derived from the
book, derived from the story in the author’s mind. Besides being tailored to fit the medium of
movies the best, the story’s ambiguous details now get filled in by the actors,
director, wardrobe designer, set builders, computer artists, and any number of
people involved with a movie’s production. Wherever these details come from,
they are certain not to match the details in any given reader’s mind.
These might even come from the original author. The movie
could go back to the author, ask him/her questions about all the details the
author left out, or consult interviews or other writings the author composed referring
to their original ideas, and then build the movie’s version of the story with
those details. In such a case, one could argue the movie’s version of certain
aspects of the story might be more closely accurate to the author’s story than
is any given reader’s version.
Whatever the case, between the author’s internal version of
the story, the book’s version, each reader’s version, and the movie version, one
certainty is that no two versions will be the same. Rather than dwell on how different
those differences are we should embrace those differences and relish comparing
them, just like we might relish comparing thoughts with a fellow reader. Most
importantly, I ask you to consider that the book is in no way necessarily more
or less correct than any other version.
The book is not gospel; it’s one interpretation of many.
Once you’ve accepted it, the enjoyment comes from understanding what has created
the differences…