About Dialogue

Opinions ahoy!

Forgive my pontifications, but one thing which ultimately hits a strong but subtle wrong note in stories and theatre is bad dialogue. By this (for now) I mean the lack of a genuine voice for characters.

As a playwright, I frankly regard dialogue as the single biggest aid for me to give the director and cast. Partially this comes from my study of Shakespeare, whose plays literally brim with clues and hints about how to perform them. One of the most obvious is when he either add or omits a beat from the ten beats of a typical iambic pentameter line. He always has a reason that for that. Always. Usually indicative of an extra stress somewhere, or sometimes a break in the rhythm for effect (Hamlet--the character--has a fair amount of this). Another lies in the way a regular ten-beat line is often divided between two (or more) characters--which means essentially don't take any pauses here.

But all that lies in verse. One can find countless examples in prose as well. Alas, too often you don't find them. So I'm going to pontificate and offer a guide, a series of hints to help fellow writers develop or hone their skills in this direction. Mostly a matter of questions to ask.

First, when does your character interrupt someone else? If they do such easily and often, clearly this makes them a fundamentally different person than someone who never or rarely does at all. But of course it must be more complex than that, yes? Yes! For one thing, you have more than two options--Often versus Never represents two poles, with an infinite variety in between. This in turn leads to specifics. Who will your character most likely interrupt, and why? More, under what circumstances? Even more importantly, how do they interrupt?  A polite raising of the hand coupled with the words "Excuse me, don't mean to be rude at all, but I feel something needs saying..." shows a very different personality than the sudden bark of "Wrong, wrong, wrong! You've forgotten something!" Likewise, a quick point of finger with an intense but unemotional "Question--if that were true, what prevents...?" displays a different one from a sudden rising out of the chair, eyes blazing and words spat between clenched teeth "How...DARE...you!" All different, albeit only a few of the many possibilities. All belonging in your writer's toolbox. Kindly remember while you're at it--characters will interrupt in different ways under different circumstances. The most well-rounded of such might use every single one of the previous examples. Every single one. But--why?

Possibilities abound! A teacher, for example, might interrupt the Dean in one way, their students in another, a sibling in still a third, their spouse in a fourth, their own children in another, and so on. Ditto a student, a priest, a carpenter, etc. This is hardly about choosing one option for a character, but understanding which options they tend to use and when.

Second, consider how good is your character's grammar?  Honestly, George Bernard Shaw sometimes takes this idea to almost ridiculous lengths. In Major Barbara for example he writes out lower class London speech phonetically, and while somewhat helpful this also can generate headaches. Yet in truth the basic idea holds. A person who says "Where are you headed now?" seems not of a different class but of a different personality than someone who says "Where you going to?" It might or might not indicate amount of education, but assuming someone in our culture and era, this person's attitude to speech and language comes through. Not a matter of carelessness, either. More a taste in terms of what is technically correct or maybe proper. After all, don't you perfectly understand both examples? A fairly easy pattern to note, yet not quite obvious, lies in the use of double negatives. Again, a matter of degree rather than either/or. "I don't have any pastries" certainly sounds alien in the mouth of someone who more usually will utter "I don't have no cakes today" just as will the equally ungrammatical "Now I don't have none cakes, I done told you." But this offers yet another area of nuance. What makes someone who uses (for lack of a better word) sloppy grammar start using absolutely correct grammar? Or at least try to (and perhaps fail)? Likewise consider the circumstances that might lead a person to start using double negatives or other grammatical errors (ending sentences with a preposition, for example).  Then again, think about those obscure forms of speech which, while correct, rarely end up used in day to day speech. If I were to go there (as opposed to if I was) or perhaps To what school is Henry going? (rather than What school is Henry going to?).

Perhaps most interesting is how all these reflect not only character background, but even more importantly character attitude.  Consider John Smith. A more generic proper name in English seems hard to imagine. Give him something to say. Anything. Preferably at least a sentence or two. Now, listen to John Smith say those lines in your head--but with variations. Suppose he says those lines as an interrogator--maybe a private detective, an attorney confronting a witness, a husband suspecting a spouse of adultery, etc. Or suppose he says them as a supplicant--speaking to a ill-tempered manager, a teacher upon whom he has a crush and feels hugely intimidated, a police officer when he knows there's an unpaid parking ticket from last year in his wallet, or so forth?  Perhaps he speaks as a salesman, as a professor, as a spy, as a would-be suitor? The line changes does it not? In fact, you'll probably find yourself wanting to re-write the lines.

Did you notice what I did there? I changed John Smith's role. This needn't indicate he has any one of these professions (although he might). Rather it notes what mode he's in at the moment, identifies the context of his lines. That context will always and forever remain vital--the history, the place, the time, the other characters listening, and where John Smith is at that moment in his own mind. Ashamed? Furious? Exultant? Annoyed? Drowsy? Terrified? Some combination? (Here's a hint--it is nearly always some combination).

Finally here's a list of different speech and conversation patterns from life. Some might never occur to you. Others you'll recognize instantly. Please feel free to add to the list! No doubt you know things I do not, and I'd appreciate if you shared!

• Some folks never ask about others, but regale people with compelling details of what's going on in their own lives.
• Some speak rarely, but when they do their words sound awkward, as they try and find the right wording on the cuff.
• Some immediately ask questions, presuming others can answer in detail about their own plans and hopes and long terms goals as if giving a powerpoint demonstration.
• Some have zero patience with any idiosyncrasy of speech with others, reacting with different degrees of patience while asking what the hell someone else is talking about?
• Some always change the subject, not to themselves per se, but to areas and things that interest them, like pet theories or specific ideologies.
• Some long to explode in rage and pain, but have learned to control themselves, with every tiny bit of politeness a subtle moan of pain.
• Some litter their speech with things like "as it were" or "as far as I can tell" and other clusters of words that may come across as filler (but may have some very practical purpose).
• Some demand precision in their speech, actually working out it has been nineteen and a half years since their sister graduated high school, not twenty.
• Some overuse certain words such as "like" "that" "whatever" "so" "then" etc.
• Some rarely use certain words at all, such as "I" or "need" or "evil."
• Some scatter their conversations with homilies or reworked quotes, sometimes original little bits ("How are you" "Oh fair to partly clowdy")
• Some people argue for the sake of arguing, sometimes to the point of not really paying attention to what they're saying (like the Pro-choice college student who won't even remember claiming parents should have the right to euthanize newborns if they don't like what they've got).
• Some hate it when a subject changes and will steer the conversation back, regardless of whether anyone else wants to return there.
• Some change the subject seemingly with every breath, and show little or no awareness they've done it. Or maybe they know they do it and apologize every single time--while still doing it.
• Some state their opinions as fact, acting baffled and insulted that anyone could disagree.
• Some are so interested in hearing what other people have to say they keep stirring the pot just to get others to reveal more of their ideas.
• Some people vent all the time--when their computer isn't as fast as they want it to be, when a lightbulb goes out, when anything begins early or late--seeing this as healthy, viewing those who don't as possibly hurting themselves.
• Some want peace, longing to avoid conflict save in the most joking manner.
• Some people have real difficulty grasping metaphors or hyperbole, taking things quite literally even when hardly anyone else does.
• Some frankly state certain subjects hold no interest and expect people to then not go there. Sometimes these folks accord the same courtesy to others--once someone states disinterest, they change subjects. Sometimes they don't.

Writing Lesson: The Passive Voice

Warning!  Strong Opinions Follow!
Sometimes I edit.  One problem pops up again and again--a problem that drives me a little bit mad.  The Passive Voice.  My advice about the passive voice comes out easy to understand--don't use it.  Please.  For the sake of all readers everywhere, break this appalling habit.  One sentence in the passive voice makes for a single drop of genuine dullness.  A second sentence, especially right on top of the first, does not translate into a second drop.  No, the effect grows.  Two sentences using the passive voice might as well be a shot-glass full of boredom.  Add a third and you're looking at a wine bottle's worth.  One solid page of the passive voice translates into an Olympic-sized swimming pool of mind-numbing.

First, an explanation.  The Passive Voice is a mode of writing that presumes the subject of a sentence is acted upon rather than doing something.  Remember the three parts of the sentence?  You should.  Teachers spent twelve years of your life telling you:  Subject, Verb and Object.  Look at this sentence:  Cynthia kissed Nancy.  Cynthia is doing something, so she's the subject.  Kissing describes what she's doing, the verb.  Nancy is the object of that action.  My example sentence--Cynthia kissed Nancy--I wrote in the Active Voice.  Behold the same idea in the Passive:  Nancy was kissed by Cynthia.

More examples (of increasing complexity):
George followed Annette.  Annette was followed by George.
Captain Evil found the map.  The map was found by Captain Evil.
Elliott poisoned Anne, his wife.  Anne, Elliott's wife,ended up poisoned by him.
Owen achieved the rank of Grand Master.  Owen was given the rank of Grand Master. 
Sir Olaf landed in the giant's hand.  Sir Olaf was caught by the giant.
Some types of wasp hunt certain spiders.  Certain spiders become the prey of some types of wasp.
Renee Smith climbed the summit of Apex Mountain.  Renee Smith was the one who climbed the summit of Apex Mountain.
Cyan marks the passive voice sentences.  Look at the difference.  Individually they barely disrupt anything.  Put them all together and reading it feels like driving a car without releasing the park brake.

Most of us learn to use the passive voice by example.  Read any inter-office memo.  Better than ninety-nine times out of a hundred the writer uses the passive voice throughout.  History books, newspaper articles, most editorials, etc. all avoid the active voice like the plague.  One understands why.  Passive voice seems simpler, even technically more accurate.  More insidiously, in many a documentary or public speech as well as film or t.v. show actors or professional speakers make the passive voice sound interesting.  Always a trap, that--because we don't read in someone else's voice, most especially not in a voice that already knows the material and can use verbal skills to make to sound interesting.

On the written page, the passive voice drones on and on, rendering virtually any subject dull.

Personally, I urge most writers as an exercise to avoid it altogether--make the effort to expunge any passive voice without exception.  Not because the passive voice is never appropriate, but because its overuse pervades so much writing.  A simple rule of thumb to aid in this sounds odd, but works:  Try to avoid the verb "to be."  Not all sentences using that verb end up in the passive voice.  But here's a brutal truth--hardly any passive voice sentences lack it.  I firmly believe in breaking bad habits, in life and in art.  The passive voice makes most writing so inherently flat it qualifies as one of the worst (and commonplace) habits among writers today.  Possibly ever.  Do your readers a favor.

My version of LMI

Elsewhere online, plenty of debate swirls around two film versions of the same novel--Let The Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist.  Me, I loved the book and both films.  But then my mind went to the Japanese novel Ringu, which became a series of successful Japanese films.  And then a Korean film.  Plus an American movie, The Ring.  Last I heard a Hindu version was in the works...

So what if a third version of Lindqvist's book were filmed?  Here's how I'd do it.  Be warned--if you haven't read the book or seen at least one of the movies the following probably won't make a lot of sense.

The Right One (based on the same Jim Morrisey lyric as the novel and first film) would be set in a fictional West Island suburb of Montreal called Noirville.

To distinguish things, I'm naming my two central characters Orrin and Elle.  No, I've never been to Montreal but have read quite a bit about it for a variety of reasons. The West Island is a more 'rural' area and is somewhat heavily Roman Catholic. With that in mind I'd say Orrin goes to a Catholic school run by nuns. More, I'd have him the child of a mixed Anglo-French/Protestant-Catholic marriage that has failed and the bullies would target him in some sense along those lines. Why? Because it seems to me a major theme in the story is they way we refuse to find emotional connections with each other yet also how we do find them. Ethnic and religious conflict seem a good way to illustrate that without having to go overboard. Not that such would form a major plot point, but it would be part of the background and context.

My version would include the police detective character from the book, someone who more-or-less accidentally interacts with all the major characters at one time or another. Said encounters would make up something like a Greek Chorus to the story--not overtly but as a bit of punctuation. He'd be talking to Orrin's class at the start of the tale.  Later he'd meet the couple who'd later be destroyed by Elle, gently warn them about driving while drinking.  As killings by the so-called West Island Ripper became known, he'd appear on television, etc.

Elle's helper, whom I'd call Harmon, is a bit different from either Hakkan or Thomas. I'd like to hint he is a priest, perhaps a pedophile but also a man who has lost his faith then found it again in the service of this genuine supernatural creature. More, I'd like to show Elle as exhausted by his attentions and expectations--he doesn't see her after all but a kind of symbol.

Would I deal with Elle's gender? Depends. Given my druthers, yes. And I'd also like to include Zombie Harmon. My concern would be time, but if this weren't a motion picture it might work. Let us assume it a four hour cable miniseries and then we can go with that. But the whole Zombie thing would need to be streamlined a fair amount--its major dramatic purpose to indicate just how troubled and alone Elle's existence has been.

Actually, a fair amount of the story would be told from Elle's viewpoint. Would love to see a camera shot of her 'landing' at the Hospital window, especially from her POV. And that is also how I'd do the pool massacre--with Elle watching her dear friend Orrin then reacting with such incredible violence at seeing what was happening. Rather than stay with Orrin, I'd have the camera see with Elle's eyes as she destroyed each of the bullies--their terrified faces, the blood spattering everywhere, her leaving one of them alive because of youth and innocence, then plunging into the water to retrieve Orrin who has lost consciousness.

Cut to the aftermath, to the puzzling forensic evidence, the detective trying to figure out what to tell the missing boy's mother...

And somewhere, maybe in a hidden corner of an abandoned windmill where we saw Elle go after leaving the apartment building, we see the steamer trunk. Within it, Elle holds the soaking wet, seemingly dead body of Orrin in her arms. She wakes as the sun sets. Then, do does Orrin, his eyes catlike for a moment. He sees Elle--and smiles.


Just wanted to get that off my chest.

Writing Tips

(My apologies for taking so long between posts, but honestly I've been busy -- among other things getting diagnosed with diabetes as well as working on End Of The Line.  Mea culpa.)

A dear friend and I ended up discussing writing the other day.  She enjoys my blogs (here and at vampires.com).  More she recently got back into writing herself.  Given that she asked, I offered some "tricks of the trade" and she suggested I write them down.  So...

Let me begin with acknowledging loads and loads of writers have their own such tricks.  Many would probably not agree with mine at all.  Or approve of some, disapprove of others.  Fine.  Kindly take what follows as advice only -- consider what I say, then accept or dismiss as you see fit.

First, and this one I see violated time and time again, avoid the passive voice.  Read nearly any textbook, business report or form letter for examples of the passive voice.  Ditto encyclopedia entries, legal documents of nearly any kind, and far too many works of fiction.  "The cat was found by Millie" instead of "Millie found the cat."  Nine times out of ten (or more) the passive voice creates boredom.  Always?  No.  In truth, the passive voice can be a stylistic trick, one that creates a powerful effect.  "We hold these truths to be self-evident" is in the active voice but the very next clause of that famous quote "that all men are created equal" is passive, yet rings like a bell in the annals of history.  Examine it closely, you'll even see why it proved so effective, as well as why it more usually does not.  The passive voice gramatically shifts responsibility for the verb away from the subject, often onto the object.  A cat is found rather than Millie did the finding.  In the Declaration of Independence, the "all men..." clause refers to some kind of Creator, whether natural or supernatural (a fair number of our Founding Fathers were not Christians).  So the passive voice nearly always takes focus away from the subject of the sentence, the main character as it were.

Secondly, try to avoid the verb "to be."  Which sounds daft.  How more fundamental can you get than the verb that denotes existence?  And isn't that the very heart of Shakespeare's most famous monologue?  Yes and no.  "To be or not to be..." functions as a metaphor.  In context, Hamlet muses not about existence so much as life versus death, pondering over suicide in the face of life's travails.  Kindly note also my recommendation's actual words--"try to avoid" not "never use."  I encourage you to try and see for yourself how much more interesting your prose becomes when avoiding that verb.  Try to banish it altogether, just as an experiment.  Judge the results for yourself.  Quite simply, hardly a more dull verb exists in the English language--or at least more over-used to the point of boredom.  My own writing improved greatly after taking on this little rule of thumb (not axiom, not holy writ--just a rule of thumb).

Third, I cannot recommend enough varying the length and complexity of sentences.  What do I mean?  Glad you asked!  Consider the simple sentence.  Now consider what English teachers call the compound sentence and how useful such things can be.  Finally, we really should think on the compound-complex sentence, and while we're at it try to remember how often you come across such things in texts difficult to follow (like academic papers for instance).  See what I did?  When mentioning each type of sentence type I used an example of same! 

Eye iz sew klevur (we all know not to misspell words or mangle grammar right?).

 I was also (hopefully) demonstrating why variations generally work better than repetition.  A Compound-Complex takes more concentration to understand than a Simple.  Putting two or more together might end up beautiful and more accurate, but requires a lot more labor on the part of the reader.  Which can work brilliantly!  Remember Bilbo's speech at the beginning of Fellowship of the Ring?  "I don't know half of you as well as I should like and like less than half of you as well as I should."  You can almost see his birthday guests blink a few times.  They don't say anything, trying instead to work out whether most of them were just insulted or not. (Yeah, they were.)  Now imagine sentences of that complexity piled one on top of the other.  Problems.  Especially for the reader going through your work for the very first time.

Yet another consideration regarding sentence length--the rhythm of your story.  Songs rarely begin with gigantic swelling notes.  Listen to particularly stirring songs to hear what I mean.  "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables, for example.  Or "Pity The Child" from Chess.  Both start slow and soft, building to louder and more complex moments, then returning to quiet in order to give still greater crescendos later.  Writers methinks should use a similar model in terms of their own rhythms.  Lacking notes and orchestras, we use words.  More than words.  Sentences, clauses, vocabulary, the passive versus the active voice, etc.

Lastly, a few words about letters with which words begin.  Call me picky (go ahead--really, I don't mind) but one major goal in my writing remains readability.  Anything that helps achieve that remains a valuable tool.  Towards that end, I wrote myself two simple rules:

1. Never begin two adjacent sentences with words that begin with the same letter.
2. Never begin two adjacent paragraphs with words that begin with the same letter.

Kindly refer to the text of this blog as an example.  Mind you, I did put this rule-of-thumb last, and for a reason.  You wouldn't be wrong calling me picky.  I am.  But my own sense of how reading works, how the human eye picks up on lettering, how we keep our place and retain a memory of what we're reading lends me to think this a good idea.  Certainly the opposite has the exact impact I hope to avoid.  Reiterating the same capital letters over and over impedes readability.  Usually.

Take my words as wisdom or as the eccentric ramblings of a pretentious scribe.  Or both.  Whatever helps you create the words and works dearest to your writer's heart.

Oh, and Happy New Year!

Writing: Heroic Trios

Odds are you've seen them.  Perhaps as you read a description you will even recognize them.  But do you understand what they are and how they work?  I speak (er...write) of a certain trope or character dynamic dubbed (by yours truly) as the Heroic Trio.

First of the trio I call the Decider.  In whatever essential conflict of the story, he or she will be the one to...well...decide.  Another way to look at it is they have the ultimate responsibility in resolving the central conflict of the story.  Be it to defeat the Dark Lord, or rescue the princess from the evil galactic empire, or solve the mystery of who is the werewolf threatening the entire town--the Decider has to make the central choices leading to success or failure.

Helping the Decider are two others--companions or co-workers or family members or something.  What distinguishes these two are the roles they play.

One I call the Ace, because first and foremost this person is an expert.  At what entire depends upon the story details.  Sometimes they are a brilliant scholar or scientist, possibly the brightest student in school.  Then again, maybe they alone know how to enter the secret lair of the evil wizard.

Finally there is the Supporter, the person who acts as an emotional anchor for the trio.  In practice this often means a humorous person, something of a clown, but not always.  A Supporter might just as easily be the equivalent of a butler or nanny or even a bartender -- someone who helps emotionally and physically.

Kirk has Spock and Bones.  They also function as two sides of Kirk's personality, or at least the voice of each.  An interesting aspect of that dynamic is that Kirk leans so heavily on Spock precisely because Kirk tends to be so intuitive rather than logical.  In heroic trios this often happens, that the Decider becomes in some ways more associated with the one who is least like them.  Fan fiction abounds with tales of Kirk and Spock, their famous friendship, at times positing a romantic/sexual aspect to it.  The new Star Trek movie was almost completely built around that relationship.

Buffy has Willow and Xander.  At one point in the series they were explicitly labeled the Hand, the Head and the Heart -- during a season that was explicitly about reforging the trio in the wake of graduating high school.  Willow and Xander are extremely close friends, having known and leaned upon each other practically since infancy.  Yet not until Buffy arrived did they begin to find focus in their lives.  Again, this is common aspect of the heroic trio.  The Decider becomes the focus, the point around which the other two orbit to some extent.

Frodo has Gollum and Sam, which helps illustrate another common trait.  The Ace and the Supporter often seem to be polar opposites.  In Lord of the Rings it is harder to imagine a more typical Hobbit than Samwise Gamgee, nor a less typical one than Smeagol/Gollum.  One is obsessed by the Ring, addicted to it, both loving and hating it as he loves and hates himself.  The other is among the tiny minority almost unaffected by the thing.  Even their eating habits are (famously and comically) at opposite ends of the spectrum.  One is ancient, the other young.  One is fat, the other scrawny to the point of emaciation.  One loves plants and gardens, while the other is most comfortable in underground caves.

Vlad from Young Dracula has Chloe and Robin, who highlight how the desires of the characters in a heroic trio are usually intertwined.  Vlad is a vampire who wants to be human.  Robin is a human who wants to be a vampire.  Chloe is the clear-sighted one who clearly sees that hanging around a real vampire is very, very dangerous -- yet continues to do so (Robin is her brother after all, and Chloe does seem to genuinely like Vlad).

Harry Potter has Hermione and Ron.  That trio was formed early on in the very first novel of the series and once continuing theme is how their relationship is stretched and bent, net never quite truly broken.  It also illustrates something universal in the heroic trio--the Ace and the Supporter have a powerful emotional relationship.  They never exist separately and are never indifferent to one another.  In this series, they fall in love.  Elsewhere they are siblings, rivals, hate one another, are deeply loyal in contentious colleagues, etc.  No matter the details, when these two characters interact, some kinds of sparks fly.  Unless of course the trio is dysfunctional for some reason...

Looked at in a certain way, Bill Compton on True Blood has Eric and Sookie (this is from the perspective of Bill's character of course--the series itself generally is from Sookie's POV).  In The Dark Knight you can see that Bruce Wayne/Batman has Alfred and Rachel Dawes (the Butler in this case being the Ace).  Dexter violates this trope in that he always seems to be trying form such a trio -- but they collapse, not least because in terms of the character dynamic he has to keep his Ace and Supporter apart.  This fits into his particular storyline, that of a serial killer trying to turn into a normal human being (a quest that, if successful, would of course destroy Dexter completely -- talk about an inherent and unresolvable conflict!).  On the opposite legal end of the spectrum is the intense and often-brilliant Kurt Wallander (played in English by Kenneth Branaugh on Masterpiece Mystery), much of whose internal conflicts can be seen from a near-total lack of anyone who can function as part of a trio with him.  He is alone, and that fact tortures him.

Bones has Booth and Angela.  House has Wilson and his team (being a bit dysfunctional, his Ace is a group whose membership keeps changing).  Like any such trope, the Heroic Trio is a tool -- something to help and clarify things for the writer.  Its dynamic can be useful.  Be warned however of using it as a crutch or a formula for success.  It is and remains only a tool.

Unclicking my soapbox icon.  For now.

September Blog Chain: Seasons

This month's blog chain is about seasons, which is left up to us in exactly how we approach same.  Such is a tad awkward, because I already wrote on this subject.  Kinda/sorta.  But it isn't as if Autumn is a subject easily exhausted!

I am not at all a summer person.  Even after growing in Florida, amid an atmosphere only slightly less humid than New Orleans, heat is not something I like.  In fact after the past decade of living in a huge artificial oasis on the coast of the American Southwest Desert (i.e. Los Angeles) my emotional attachment to Autumn has grown.   More puzzling is that Autumn includes so many disappointments.

My mother died in November.  So did the woman I loved.  Those are the top ones.  But there were more, including the last time I tried hosting a party.  A Halloween party.  Costumes, naturally.  One person arrived.  We watched 1977's BBC Count Dracula and chatted.  Never tried that again.

All of which makes me sound like a whiner, doesn't it?  Or at least depressed.  Me, I prefer the word melancholy.  Far more pretentious.  More accurate as well.  Perhaps I've learned to accept some degree of sadness in my life.  Didn't want to.  Still seethe in anger at the fact, at times even wanting to scream (maturity means I don't actually do it, though).

There, maybe, lies part of the answer.  Autumn is the time when things begin to die.  Yet, as Cyrano pointed out, each leaf achieves a kind of glory as it falls.  Remember Walsh?  (From the movie Serenity--go watch it if you haven't.)  My perceptions of the world are askew from others.  Whereas others look at people's eyes, my eyes find the mouth.  You know how so many writers write the equivalent of a sonnet then have to somehow cut it down to a haiku?  I'm the opposite.  Hence to me the dying of life seems soothing.

Years ago someone uttered a wise sentence to me.  "Life always keeps one particular promise--in the end you get to rest."  It has helped me, thinking on that.  Death has its attractions.  But no need to rush.  As the autumn leaves fall, they remind me of this.

Such might be part of the answer, anyway.


Here is the list of the September Blog Chain participants:
Ralph_Pines: http://ralfast.wordpress.com/ and direct link to his post
Aheïla: http://thewriteaholicblog.wordpress.com/ and direct link to her post
DavidZahir: http://zahirblue.blogspot.com/ <<<< you are here
NEXT >>>>orion_mk3: http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com/
LadyMage: http://www.katherinegilraine.com/
semmie: http://semmie.wordpress.com/
llalah: http://www.twylanonsequitur.blogspot.com/
hillaryjacques: http://www.hillaryjacques.blogspot.com/
AuburnAssassin: http://clairegillian.wordpress.com/
laffarsmith: http://www.craftingfiction.com/
sbclark: http://www.sonyaclark.net/
FreshHell: http://freshhell.wordpress.com/
PASeasholtz: http://www.paseasholtz.com/
SF4-EVER: http://www.ulbrichalmazan.blogspot.com/
T.N. Tobias: http://tnt-tek.com/
IrishAnnie: http://superpenpower.blogspot.com
Proach: http://desstories.blogspot.com/
mada: http://questioningseeking.blogspot.com/

August Blog Chain: Color????

The AW August Blog Chain is upon us.  As usual I am participating and the theme this month is -- If you had to pick one color, and one color only, for an aspect of your writing, which one would it be and why?

Honestly, this one was tricky.  Offhand I'd no idea how to approach the subject, which is why I delayed joining the chain this time.  Because I wasn't sure about taking part?  Well, a little bit.  Mostly, though, it was a matter of strategy.  Allowed me to take a gander at how others went after the same theme.  Heh heh.

But here is my answer.  My writing is teal.

Precisely why is more of a puzzle.  I'm not completely sure.  That might indeed be a major reason for choosing this one.  Say the word "teal" and in truth all kinds of shades come to mind.  Yes, it is pretty clearly a blue-green or green-blue but like one of the primary colors it lends itself to dark versions, pale varieties, vivid teals, plain teals, etc.  It sounds like it should be the color of the sea (and to be honest--the few months I've spent in my life away from the sea left me feeling out-of-tune in some way) but isn't quite.  There are gemstones that come in teal, but no one specific such.  In my imagination teal is associated with the orient for some reason, with artwork from that area of the world.  Odd, since while I'm not ignorant of Asia it is hardly an area of study.  As such.

Mind you, teal is considered (or can be) a shade of blue and that is my name!  But methinks it is more telling that teal has enormous variety despite its relative simplicity as a color.  Like my own world view, it is baroque rather than rococo.  It can be, often is, an accent to darker colors like black.  It reminds me of the earth, of rocks and stones.  Often mottled, it has the complexity of a cloud or better yet a wall of mist against a landscape.  Yet it can just as easily be a solid band of color, something simultaneously bright yet muted.

Whether any of this actually describes or harkens to my writing is for others to say.  I can only not this what my writing seems to me.  Or what I strive to make it.


The super summery participants of the August Coloring Blog Chain are:
Aheïla: http://thewriteaholicblog.wordpress.com and direct link to her post
Ralph_Pines: http://ralfast.wordpress.com/ and direct link to her post
AuburnAssassin: http://clairegillian.wordpress.com/ and direct link to her post
semmie: http://semmie.wordpress.com/ and direct link to her post
Anarchicq: http://anarchicq.com/ and direct link to her post
CScottMorris: http://www.cscottmorrisbooks.com/ and direct link to his post
PASeasholtz: http://www.paseasholtz.com/
LadyMage: http://www.katherinegilraine.com/
orion_mk3: http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com/

DavidZahir: http://zahirblue.blogspot.com/ <<YOU ARE HERE

NEXT >> aimeelaine: http://www.aimeelaine.com/writing/blog
Alpha_Echo: http://writersramblings81.blogspot.com/
FreshHell: http://freshhell.wordpress.com/
sbclark: http://sonyaclark.blogspot.com/

Guest Blogger: Raven Corinn Carluk

Please welcome a guest blogger today, Raven Corinn Carluk.

I want to thank Zahir for having me here today. It's very awesome, and I hope I can entertain you all.

I'm a debut vampire author. Paranormal romance, truly. I've been writing for years, and have a whole bunch of stories up on my site, and an ongoing story on my blog. I'm a storyteller, through and through, and I'm glad I can actually reach people now.

So I'm here today because I want to share a story with all you fine readers today. I love vampires. Not the sparkly ones, not the ones who want to be human again, or the ones who've given up drinking human blood. I'm into romance, so they don't have to be heartless monsters. But they need to have some bite to them, a predatory spirit.

This is a story I wrote to be different in the world of soft vampires. A twist, but only compared to the doldrums and boring vampires flooding the market. I hope you enjoy, "Said the rattlesnake".

He growled low in his throat as flickering light filled the room. The creak of the iron hinges was responsible for breaking his slumber, but there was no denying the hot scent of a young woman would have been just as effective. He narrowed his eyes at the glare of light, trying to discern the bearer, not recognizing her scent.

She lowered the lamp, revealing creamy features, alluringly large eyes, and a cascade of dark hair. She was slender, willowy even, but held herself with grace and strength. His growl died as her presence overwhelmed him.

He'd hungered in the dark too long, and was desperate to feel her heat pressed hard against him. Silver-laced manacles bit into his flesh as he lunged closer, and he groaned in pain. He came fully awake as hunger ate through his body like acid. His jaws began to ache with the need to be in her veins, driving away all coherent thought.

She came closer, her footsteps muffled by thick skirts. He noted how clean she and her clothes were, and figured her for aristocracy. "So, it's true. Marda has a pet." Her voice was soft, but there was a fervent note to it. Letting his eyes close, he found himself imagining her voice raised in passionate cries, her body arching against his.

The young woman strode closer, setting the lamp on a rickety table near his imprisoning chair. Her aroma thickened in his nostrils, and he let his teeth grind against the bit in his mouth. He knew he risked breaking a fang against it, but he couldn't help himself. "Marda said your name was Wolfgang. Was she lying?"

Wolfgang opened his eyes. How had this slip of a girl pried secrets from his captor? Marda was a tough woman, from barbarian stock, and had bound him while he was in a moment of weakness. Her knowledge of his kind had allowed her to keep him captive, and for the last four decades Marda had fed herself on his strength, extending her life by taking his.

Now someone else stood before him, claiming Marda had shared this secret.

He wanted to keep the girl talking, simply to keep her torturously close. Marda had been neglecting him lately, hadn't fed him for months. He was starving, and fantasies played out about this girl's delicate throat. Wolfgang shook his head, holding her gaze.

She stood within arm's length, her skirts brushing his bare feet with a whisper of linen. Her heat beat against his skin, stoking his hunger, and he moaned low in his throat. She smiled at the sound, her eyes slowly pulling him in. "Which means she also told the truth about what she did with you." The woman's eyes flicked to the knife on the table, dusty with disuse.

Wolfgang's skin crawled with the remembered encounters. Marda, feeding him through a metal straw stuck past the bit. Marda, almost surgically precise when she opened the vein in his neck. Marda, sucking his life from him with a greedy mouth. He shuddered, tipping his head back, lost to the memories. Years of captivity had taught him to enjoy Marda's tortures, to stop looking for freedom.

His current object of desire settled onto his lap, and he cried out in surprise, his entire body reacting to her touch. She weighed practically nothing, yet Wolfgang felt her in every limb. He writhed against his bindings, the metal digging into his calloused flesh, and she giggled at his reaction.

Her mirth cut through his clouded mind, and he looked at her, boring into her amber eyes as her breath washed around his face. "Who are you?" he tried to ask around his bit. Her smile was dazzling, her teeth in perfect health, and he followed the movement of her lips. Then his eyes darted to her hands as she reached to the buckle at the back of his head. With swift motions, she undid the straps, releasing his mouth. "Who are you?" he repeated in an abused voice.

"My name is Aileen," she purred, stroking his cheeks. Wolfgang sighed longingly, turning to kiss her slender wrist, but the girl pulled her arms away. "Oh, no, little Wolf, nothing for you yet."

His voice rose in a deep growl. "Why must you torture me?" His body throbbed with his need, his every thought spinning around drinking her blood, his vision fading in and out.

"Because I want to bargain with you."

Aileen said it so sweetly, so matter-of-factly, he almost didn't believe it. "Where's Marda? She'd never make bargains."

"I know, silly," she said, brushing a thumb across his mouth. Aileen laughed as he bucked beneath her, shaking her long hair. Wolfgang gritted his teeth to keep from snapping at her slender fingers, wanting to hear her proposal. "That's why I killed her."

Wolfgang froze, staring open-mouthed at Aileen. "Killed? You killed Marda?"

"Yes I did. And it took me a month to find where she'd stashed you." She ran a hand through his long hair, and he kept himself from reacting. "And now that I'm here, we're going to make a deal."

"What is it you want?" The vampire's voice was thick in his throat. Aileen kept stroking his hair, touching his cheeks, and the scent of blood beneath her pale skin tangled around his heart. He felt conscious thought threatening to leave him, and would become a raging beast if he didn't feed soon.

"I want the same thing Marda had. I want strength from you."

Wolfgang laughed, loud and harsh. Aileen's delicate brows drew into a sharp frown, her hands coming to a halt. "You don't need to bargain for that. Simply keep me here, and you have it."

Aileen leaned closer, her pert nose brushing his. "But I want more. I want to become like you. I want you to teach me how to use the powers of the blood." She leaned closer still, almost kissing him. "I want you free and willing."

Wolfgang tasted her breath, wanting to taste her lips, and his thoughts spun. This little thing wanted his blood, and wanted to let him go. She wouldn't keep him in the basement, would give him freedom, and he need only take her on as a fledgling. After decades of confinement, of forgetting about moonlight and the wind in his hair, of not being able to hold a delectable woman in his arms, there was only one answer. "Yes," he whispered, trying to claim her mouth and his escape.

Aileen pulled away with a wicked smile. "That's what I thought you'd say." The woman reached for the knife. "Shall we start?"

The vampire's eyes rolled shut, and he tipped his head back from habit. As hungry as he was, part of him wanted to feel her mouth upon his flesh. "I can't give you much," he rasped. "I've been too long without blood."

"I know, you poor thing," she crooned. The knife came to his neck, and he tensed, waiting for the sting of the blade. He flinched when Aileen broke the skin, shivering as his blood seeped forth. "Once I've tasted you, I shall take you home."

Wolfgang sighed softly as she bent, arching his neck against her mouth. Aileen's lips seared his skin, her teeth resting lightly against his flesh, her hands trembling on his shoulders. He strained in his bonds, wanting to press her slight body against him, wanting to encourage her to drink harder.

She stopped all too soon, shuddering as his blood infiltrated her. "I never realized..." Aileen's voice trailed off, and she pushed herself back from him. He let his eyes open slowly, studying the changes in her face. Blood stained her rosebud mouth, her cheeks flushed, the rest of her skin growing paler, nearly pearlescent in the lamplight. Her eyes became luminous as she gazed at him, wonder gracing her features. "Is it always like this?"

"Marda said so." Wolfgang's hunger had grown beyond painful, becoming the entirety of his being. He felt lucky he hadn't snapped yet; he wouldn't maul Aileen when she set him free.

The pit of his stomach dropped. He'd been so desperate for freedom that he'd instantly believed her. There was no reason for her to actually let him go. Aileen could simply keep him as Marda had, and he couldn't stop her. Wolfgang had stopped trying to escape decades ago, and was sure Marda's wards would hold until time ended.

The girl moved dizzily, but proved she was true to her word, and began undoing his bindings. Marda hadn't opened the manacles in forty years, and the metal creaked as it parted. Wolfgang groaned with the sudden freedom, the air cold against his skin. He tried to rise from the chair, and fell to his knees, his body forgetting how to move at first.

"Oh, my Wolf, don't hurt yourself." Aileen went to her knees beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "What do you need?"

Heat lashed up his spine, strength returning to his limbs as hunger drove him. "You," he groaned, turning toward her. Aileen gave no resistance as he pulled her into his arms. She whimpered softly as his mouth found her neck, then cried out in pleasure as his teeth pierced her vein.

Blood filled his mouth in a hot gush, and he growled, holding her tighter. She crumpled in his grip, and he swallowed brokenly. Too long since he'd actually held someone while he fed, and somehow he managed not to fall into a blood frenzy.

He fed steadily, feeling her heart surge against his lips, sucking in rhythm with it. Aileen moaned and writhed in his arms, pressing herself against him, encouraging him to drink deeper. Wolfgang's fangs shifted, and she clawed at his shoulders, her voice throaty and passionate in his ear.

The vampire pressed her to the ground, grinding his hips against her. The young woman accommodated him, wrapping slender thighs around him. He snatched her hair, pulling her head aside, and began to drink harder.

Aileen cried out in surprise, feeling her heart stumble, her blood pressure dropping. Wolfgang continued to growl, drowning in her sweet elixir. Her body was weakening, the very flavor of her blood reflecting that, and the vampire sighed. This was what he had needed for so long.

The girl's whimpers grew softer, and he knew she was dying. Chuckling wickedly, Wolfgang pulled back from her neck, his entire body throbbing pleasurably, power returning to his long disused limbs. His fangs still ached; he was far from sated, and many more would die tonight.

"My Wolf, where are you going?" she asked breathlessly as he rose. Her eyes were liquid with tears, and glittering tracks sparkled along her temples. Her body shook with more than her sobs, and Wolfgang almost took pity on her. "Why aren't you...changing..."

The vampire laughed, running hands through his hair. "I'm not going to do it." He grinned broadly, fangs touching his lower lip, as he watched horror dawn on her face.

"But, our deal..." She coughed, blinking heavily. Wolfgang could hear her heart struggling, and knew she wouldn't last much longer.

He crouched beside her, using one fingertip to lift a tear to his lips. Aileen whimpered, trying to reach him. "Was no deal at all. You believed I would actually uphold that? That I would give my power to you simply because you undid my bonds?"

"You beast," she murmured, the light fading from her eyes.

"You knew what I was when you picked me up," he quoted. He bent to place a kiss on her already cooled lips. Then he rose and left his prison, ignoring the dead girl behind him.

Meeting Roy

Roy and Noelle are the central characters in a web series I'm developing with a friend. The title of the show is End of the Line and our quick tag line is "Dexter Meets Twilight." There'll be a website in July.

Anyway, since I did a post last month about meeting Noelle, I thought in only fair to meet Roy. Since he isn't yet cast, he (like Noelle) morphs in my mind between different actors who would be good for the part. One of these is Jackson Rathbone. Another is Elijah Wood while a third would be Jamie Campbell-Bower .

Hello.
Hello.
What are you reading?
(Holds up the book, revealing the title: Midnight Glass by Mary C. Pryce)
Oh right. You haven't gotten the next one yet.
(Long pause) Excuse me?
That sounded wrong didn't it?
Well, since this just came out a few months ago...yeah.
A few months ago? Then you haven't met...oh. My bad. But you've got the job at the city morgue, right? I hope.
(Long pause) Yes.
I'm not psychic.
Okay.
Well, I am kinda. In some ways. About some people. I know a lot about your past for example. A whole lot. And some interesting stuff about your future.
I'd be interested in what you have to say.
Youngest child. Second son. Raised by your mother after your father disappeared. By now you've probably figured out it was a mixed blessing that you look so much like him.
I'd call it a mixed damnation, actually.
Good one!
Thank you.
Wow. I hadn't realized.
What?
How much you just watch and wait like that. I mean, that was the theory and all, what with your temper and the whole family dynamic you grew up with. But seeing it like this is just so...different.
Go on. Please. This is interesting.
You see? Most folks would be freaking out about now, looking for some way to make tracks from this stranger who claims to know so much about you, and then actually does! My guess is you're feeling that, just as much as anyone else. But there's more. You're very curious about how I know all this, and you're actually thinking about what it might all mean.
I like to believe I do think.
But you know a lot of people don't, right?
More or less.
They react, and then try to justify what they did later on. You noticed that...well, not a long time ago but not exactly yesterday either.
Alright. That is true.
Do you like the book?
Excuse me?
Midnight Glass, do you like it? There's a reason I'm asking. What is your opinion?
(Considers) It surprises me. Not all the time, but enough to keep things fresh. Makes for a good story. And I'll admit the world of these books is an attractive one. I'd like to visit there. Maybe even live there. What's funny?
Can't tell you. Spoilers. Sorry.
That is irritating. A bit.
Yeah, it would be. And again, sorry.
In a nutshell, not great literature but only very good, which still makes it way above average.
Ever said that before?
Not to anyone.
Thought so. That is just so you. Judgment rendered carefully and simply, with insight but relatively few words. All the more impressive because this isn't how you're hard-wired at all. Not at all! This is all nurture, not nature.
Okay.
Say what you were going to say.
I did.
No you didn't. Say the first thing that spring to mind. Go for it. Really.
I don't like you.
Oh. But...good for you. Here's the tiniest little spoiler, for what its worth. You're going to have to learn how to be spontaneous again. Once you do, though, you'll be great at it. That'll be a rare combo.
But you say you're not psychic. So what are you?
You wouldn't believe me.
Don't be too sure.
Good point. Still, I'd better not.
You must be aware of how irritating this is. I mean, you must be. Am I right?
True.
So let me ask you something. (Leans forward) Thousands of people, all over the world. Millions even. Billions. But you're only psychic or whatever about me. Why? Why me? Or do you even know?
Excellent question. But I can only give an indirect answer.
Better than nothing.
Because for reasons I don't dare explain, your story is personal to me. Even if we never meet again--and for the record, we almost certainly won't--the details of your life caught my attention. Everyone is fascinating, Roy, if you look in the right way. I caught a glimpse of you, of your life and some of what is to be. It will be a good story. A very good story maybe.
That is only a little bit better than nothing.
Just accept you are interesting. Meanwhile, this is my stop.
(Looking out) North Bank.
Doesn't mean much. Really. Here's to being a great story! For all of us.
(A few moments later) Medication. Is he on it, or does he need it? And what kind?

Character Music (May 2010 blog chain)

Last month's blog chain was all about meeting one of our characters. I chose to have a conversation with Noelle, the female lead in a web series in development titled End of the Line. This time the blog chain is "What does your story/character(s) sound like?" My own interpretation of this is to create a "playlist" of music which captures the essence of someone, in this case Roy Istvan--the other lead in End of the Line.

I should mention Roy is a twenty-two year-old college student, who's working two jobs to live and pay for school. He's estranged from his family, not least because he resembles most the father who abandoned them. More, he's a dreamy person, who lives in his imagination and spends a lot of effort finding bridges between this world and that of his mindscape. Hence music, such as this list.

"Suzanne" by Leonard Cohen really sums up how Roy sees romantic love. Or not "see" so much as "feel" because deep down in his bones he longs for a girl who will rock his world, turn him into something new. Interestingly, it also hints at how he sees religion--Roy is a mystic who takes faith seriously (unlike his family who attend Church but little else).

Meatloaf's "I Want My Money Back" is pretty much the anthem of Roy's rage, which has gotten him into enough trouble he was forced to control it. This is really a symptom of how passionate Roy can be, despite his seemingly calm exterior. At the same time, he's likes rhythm and melody, even in his darkness.

"Crucify" by Tori Amos strikes a chord in Roy because of his homelife and childhood. Not a good situation overall. His mother had profoundly mixed feelings for him, especially as he grew up more and more like the man she so desperately loved yet vanished without a trace. His older brother wanted to protect him, but this meant having Roy obey him and do exactly what was most unnatural to Roy's sensibilities. The middle sister played mediator for years and years, until she finally escaped via a teenage marriage. After that, the balance collapsed.

Concrete Blonde's cover of "Everybody Knows" embodies how Roy at his darkest feels the world is and will always be. Of course this doesn't mean he is a cynic. He cares and cares a lot, but at times he gives into despair. This song kinda/sorta is a way to vent.

"Cloudbusting" by Kate Bush probably has more to do with Roy's longing for a father than he realizes.

"Pennies From Heaven" sung by Bing Crosby is in some ways the anthem of Roy's hope.

The AW May Musical Blog Chain's Fantabulous Links Are:
Aheïla: http://thewriteaholicblog.wordpress.com/ and direct link to my blog chain's post
Stefanie Gaither: http://stefanie-gaither.blogspot.com/ and direct link to the blog chain's post
AuburnAssassin: http://clairegillian.wordpress.com/ and direct link to her post
xcomplex: http://arielemerald.blogspot.com and direct link to her post
Proach: http://everythinghistorical.wordpress.com and direct link to her post
8thSamurai: http://digitalisdreaming.blogspot.com/ and direct link to her post
vfury: http://helencorcoran.wordpress.com and direct link to her post
CScottMorris: http://cscottmorrisbooks.com/ and direct link to his post
Hayley E. Lavik: http://hayleyelavik.blogspot.com and direct link to her post
FreshHell: http://freshhell.wordpress.com and direct link to her post
LadyMage: http://www.katherinegilraine.com and direct link to her post
DavidZahir: http://zahirblue.blogspot.com/
Aimée Laine: http://www.aimeelaine.com/writing/blog/ <<<>
egoodlett: http://wordlarceny.blogspot.com/
Semmie: http://semmie.wordpress.com
Sbclark: http://sonyaclark.blogspot.com/
Razibahmed: http://write-translate.blogspot.com/
ArcticFox: http://picaresqueblog.blogspot.com/
Lilain: http://abigailschmidt.blogspot.com/
Truelyana: http://expressiveworld.com/
CowgirlPoet: http://frontnotes.blogspot.com/
defyalllogic:http://tavialewis.com/hyperbolicallyspeaking/
circlexranch:http://www.whyifearclowns.blogspot.com/
IrishAnnie: http://superpenpower.blogspot.com
Anarchicq: http://anarchicq.com

What If I Were A Serial Killer?

This does not contain spoilers per se. But most folks will find it disturbing. So you have been warned...

Something about serial killers fascinates as well as horrifies. How many films, books, t.v. episodes about Jack the Ripper have attracted audiences over the years? Sir Anthony Hopkins' acting career is full of brilliant performances, but don't we most think of him as Hannibal Lecter? Some very popular t.v. shows, including Profiler and Criminal Minds, recount the hunt for serial killers. Lord knows the attraction of the serial killer as a character seems proven. Actors can really show their stuff by portraying one well. Likewise writers such as myself often delve into such as a marvelous source of stories.

Perhaps that explains this odd exercise.

Imagine for a moment that instead of the person I am now, the person typing these words was the serial murderer I might have become in some alternate reality? To begin, I am pretty squeamish emotionally. Certain types of humiliation remain intensely uncomfortable for me to watch in film, television or on stage. It physically hurts to see some scenes, even though the events are unreal and the people involved clearly aren't myself. This is pretty much the opposite of a sociopath, to whom others remain eternally other. One way to describe it is that a sociopath is the only human being in a world of walking, talking mannequins. Emotionally, that is their truth. No one is more alone than a sociopath. I have been lonely virtually every day of my life, but I've also had friends, enjoyed their triumphs and good news, felt their tragedies and disappointments--often keenly. But without that, methinks I would be a far more angry human being than I am (and my temper--although under control--remains something to be feared).

This gives my first clue to that alternate Dark-Me. A far more desperately lonely person, one boiling with much more rage and many times more frustrated in an almost-instinctual desire for connection with others.

Hiding my true nature--in this scenario, for serial killers are generally master chameleons--would have required more discipline than I've probably ever wielded. But that would also fuel the rage. Imagine putting water under greater and greater pressure.

Now--what kind of fantasy? Serial killers are trying to live out a particular fantasy, over and over again. Jeffrey Dahmer, for example, was not a sadist but a necrophile and sought a perfect zombie/love slave. An FBI profiler was interviewed for the special features of the DVD of Red Dragon, noting that Hannibal Lecter's fantasy was of superiority, reducing his victims in effect to nothing more than livestock. Edward Kemper evidently was killing his mother over and over, and when he finally killed her in reality turned himself in. John Wayne Gacy and Andrei Chikatillo had, at least as I see it, similar fantasies of potency (albeit in very different forms).

Methinks I know myself well enough to see the darkest of my fantasies would be a blend of revenge and sex. Honestly, I've even found the idea of the place where pleasure and pain bleed into each other intriguing. Stories with some sense of erotic submission and control do attract me. Somewhat. Having dipped my toe ever so slightly in those waters, I can tell you they do little or nothing for me in reality. But then, I am at most only very mildly kinky. Had my psychological development shaped me into a serial killer then my status would be "Definite Full On Wildly Deviant Pervert."

Dark-Me then would be a rapist-killer, probably with an element of torture in his kills and aiming his/my rage at women who somehow were the incarnations of those who were my greatest source of frustrations. Who would that be? Almost impossible to say. My own tastes in the lovely gender are eclectic in the extreme--heavy, skinny, tall, short, dark, light, etc. Women to me are absolutely delightful parts of the universe, a reason to have a planet and a human race to start with! Mind you, I suppose that is also a clue as to Dark-Me's issues. I have never found myself attractive, nor men in general. I've always found it slightly odd (emotionally) that anyone at all was attracted to males. Had I been born with the double X chromosome my suspicion is that I'd've been a lesbian. So perhaps my alternate self has a similar personal issue, but taking a savage and warped form? Perhaps has an alternate "identity" as a woman, one who visits lesbian bars and hunts for the most attractive women he can find there?

Wow. This thought experiment is turning creepier by the second!

Mind you, the point should be made that this person isn't really a cross-dresser. He might don the persona of a woman, but in his case this is akin to a wolf hiding in sheep's clothing. Or a better example--the so-called Hillside Stranglers often masqueraded as police officers to stalk their victims. So Dark-Me becomes a woman (and in the process tasting a little bit of female power) as camouflage.

I could go further along with these thoughts. For example, he probably kills by strangulation. The feel of life leaving the body is viscerally right there and then. Likewise no blood to clean up or hide. But more details would pretty much require a reason more than any thought experiment. Like a potential story. Nothing I'm working on right this second justifies this character. Not yet. And without that "reward" of a good story, methinks I've gotten as much as feasible or (for now) desirable from such a dive into the unconscious. Interesting. Even educational. Spooky in all kinds of ways. But perhaps a bit valuable. Hey--writers are like this. We juggle atomic bombs of the psyche, and mine our nightmares for enlightenment.

It is what we do.

The Discrete Charm of the Nosferatu

Some names keep popping up. Edward Cullen. Bill Compton. Erik Northman. Mick St. John. Henry Fitzroy. Spike. Angel, formerly Angelus and formerly Liam. Nicholas Knight. Barnabas Collins. The brothers Salvatore. The vampire as love interest has become a cliche, so much so that Guillermo del Toro's The Strain as well as 30 Days of Night have been welcomed as a much-needed relief from an overabundance of saccharine.

Methinks there's something missing from all of this, though. I would posit that for a vampire love interest to succeed, a particular balance is almost always needed. Almost.

Allow me to point to two names in the above list. Henry Fitzroy and Mick St. John, the undead hunks of Blood Ties and Moonlight respectively. Both have their fans, to be sure, but neither lasted overlong. For my own tastes, the former was a damn shame (although in my review of the series I pointed out a few inherent flaws). Honestly, I tired to get into the latter but failed. But watching a few episodes did crystalize something in my own mind that led to this post. Quite simply, Mick St. John was a wimp. Not that he wasn't brave or gallant or generous or good-looking or all that. No, he was a wimp because he agonized all over the place about being a vampire. But look at his life. He doesn't need to kill for blood. His "victims" often seem to enjoy the experience. Sunlight is uncomfortable but hardly debilitating. No holy symbols seem to impact him one way or another. He feels intense guilt over crimes he's never committed, urges he seems to be able to control with no effort, inconveniences that are only that. At no time does he come across as religious. His secret is easily kept, and when his love interest discovers it that really doesn't seem to be much of a problem, not really. So what is with all the angst?

Angst can be fun. Angst is good from a story-telling perspective. But something needs to be at stake. Something real.

Probably the single biggest problem with Blood Ties is that the vampire in and of himself offered very little real threat to the heroine. Henry was a fascinatingly cool guy, and his very existence indicated a whole world of threat Vicky had never even considered. Yet he himself was no threat, even against his will.

Compare that to Angel of Buffy The Vampire Slayer fame. Here was a guy possessed by a demon, a demon forever longing to break free and commit unspeakable cruelties. The episode where someone slipped Angel a drug to make him "relax" demonstrated just why Angel is by his very nature a ticking time bomb. More, he was someone only too aware of how dangerous he was. Bill Compton on True Blood spent decades wallowing in darkness, before reaching a point of such despair he preferred death to remaining as he was. He has spent even more decades trying to regain his humanity and let us face facts--he has not been completely successful. Ask Sookie's Uncle. Likewise Barnabas Collins of Dark Shadows (scheduled to be remade by Tim Burton with Johnny Depp) ended up wiping out most of his family and the woman he loved due to his undead nature.

Do you see the correlation yet? You can boil it down to a rule of thumb: The more inherently romantic or attractive a vampire, then the more dangerous they should be for the sake of drama. Methinks this helps explain some of the popularity of Twilight. Edward really is in most ways too good to be true. He's dashing, gallant, just emotional enough to be interesting, supremely loyal, handsome as a god, generous beyond words, patient and devoted, courageous and poetic. He's virtually invulnerable (Buffy and Blade and Van Helsing combined would not stand a chance). Edward's bite not only kills but causes torturous agony (no swooning in rapture with his lips at your throat--more like begging for death at the top of your lungs). And he's fighting for self-control all the time (which makes him a rare duck in the vampires of his world--mostly they just devour whoever catches their fancy). Whatever else you may think of the series (both books and films) it captures this dynamic very well.

Barnabas Collins--virtually no control over his hunger at all, with his bite destroying the free will of his victims, turning them into his slaves. Nick Knight--ragged self-control striving against centuries of self-indulgence, with his bite nearly always killing. Eli in Let the Right One In--an eternal child who must kill to survive and who cannot always control herself, being very used to wielding deadly force. Jessica in True Blood--a repressed teenager suddenly given powers and bloodlust, at the same time robbed of almost every pleasure in life save maybe violence (really, how much more dangerous a combination could one ask for?).

Vampires need not be psychopaths to be dangerous. They just need some metaphorical fangs.

April 2010 Chain: Meeting Noelle

This is my entry in the Absolute Write Water Cooler Blog Chain April 2010. This month's theme is "What would it be like to meet your novel characters?" And I'm going to cheat. I'm going to "meet" Noelle, who is certainly novel but right now is not a character in a novel. Rather she's one of the two leads in the web series I'm developing with my writing partner Annie LeFleur. And I should explain that since Noelle hasn't been cast yet, in this writer's mind's eye she keeps shifting appearance. Sometimes she looks like Felicia Day, others like Melanie Lynskey or Amber Benson.

Okay where is this?
If I said "my apartment" would that suffice?
Not at all.
Understandable. Well, I suppose one could say this is the real world, but that probably doesn't help. For that matter, it might not even be true, or at least not the total truth.
That is not any kind of an answer.
I'm your creator. Well, one of them. (pause)
Soooo...which one? The Father? The Son? The Holy Spirit?
None of those. Lets just say this is a dream, and one or both of us is dreaming it. In this dream I'm one of the authors who have created the fictional character Noelle. You.
How nice.
No, really. At least from my perspective. Case in point--try to use your powers on me.
Just so you know--those words coming out of your mouth make less and less sense.
Noelle, I know. Really. Your birthdate in Bristol, the names of all three siblings, where you went to work, who who met, what happened to you there, where you went afterwards and when you returned to London. I know all about Cecily, about the Mayor and what happened in Paris.
So you know everything?
Not everything. That's part of what makes you alive and not my puppet. I'm not sure precisely what you'll do, nor do I have every detail. As far as I'm concerned, you're a mystery I'm still trying to solve--and like any real person that mystery cannot be completely solved. Hopefully.
Well, this has been a fascinating conversation but we seem to have reached an impasse so...
Please don't go.
I'm sure you think you can make me stay, but...
No, I don't. Please, stay. I cannot make you, not really.
Which means you're not my creator then. So bye-bye!
I know why Cecily is in town. (long pause)
Bravo. You have my attention.
But I cannot tell you.
Which makes your words a bluff.
Look--the elements of your life are the stuff of a story. That story has its needs, its requirements. One of those is the timing of when and how you learn Cecily's intentions. From those proceeds your actions.
That you already know?
In general.
Okay, lets break this down. You claim to be a writer or a god or something and that I'm one of your characters? So every single bit of pain I've suffered, all the losses and mistakes and accidents and the like--those are your fault. Right? RIGHT?
I was going to mention my writing partner Annie, but--yeah. More or less.
Sounds like mostly more to me.
You know, even if I didn't write you, if I'm just a deluded fool or figment of your own imagination, that wouldn't take away the fact that for you to exist at all there will always have been pain as well as pleasure. Always. Just like me. And Roy.
Leave him out of this.
He's actually central to...
I said--leave him out.
For the sake of courtesy, I will refrain from mentioning him. But leaving him out is not an option. Your stories are entwined.
Why? He's just this guy, a little too friendly and a little too nice. Somebody I know. A friend. Whatever f*ck*d-up sh*t you have planned for me doesn't have a damn thing to do with Roy!
Sorry. Not something I can discuss. But...no, I cannot say.
If you really do know as much as you say, that was not a smart thing to say out loud.
You and I are between worlds. Seems unlikely you can harm me.
Not a good bet.
Well, you can't physically harm me. Not for real.
Time to find out...
Doesn't the bitter always come with the sweet? How can there be light without some shadows? Without pain and loss, we cannot appreciate the pleasure or the finding. Please believe me. Please. I know. Too well.
Hey, if I'm not even real...
But you are real, that's the point. Maybe not real in the same way I am but the fact you threatened me is proof of the truth of you. I didn't expect that.
Then again, maybe this really is just a dream, eh?
Yours?
Why not?
No reason I can see. In which case, you made me instead of the other way around.
How does it feel?
A little disorienting. A tiny bit giddy. But--if you created me then using your argument I should blame you for a lot.
Not interested.
But...
I'm going.
Can I at least thank you for dreaming me up?
No. Good riddance.
(Long, long pause)
That didn't go the way I thought it would. Probably should have just shut up.

Participants:
Proach: http://desstories.blogspot.com
RavenCorinnCarluk:http://ravencorinncarluk.blogspot.com
AuburnAssassin: http://clairegillian.wordpress.com
DavidZahir: http://zahirblue.blogspot.com/ (ME)
>>>xcomplex: http://arielemerald.blogspot.com/ (NEXT)<<<
Frodo: http://annvevera.blogspot.com/
FreshHell: http://freshhell.wordpress.com
leahzero: http://words.leahraeder.com/
Aimeelaine: http://www.aimeelaine.com/writing/blog/
Anarchicq: http://www.anarchicq.com/
Breddings: http://breddings.blogspot.com/
*RomanceWriter*:http://staceyespino.blogspot.com
Forbidden Snowflake: http://www.alleslinks.com/
razibahmed: http://www.southasiablog.com/
CScottMorris: http://cscottmorrisbooks.com/
Aheila: http://thewriteaholicblog.wordpress.com/
LadyMage: http://www.katherinegilraine.com