Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them. Regarding Fantasy, this insight was startling: “I see the fantasy genre as an ever-shifting metaphor for life in this world, an innocuous medium that allows the author to examine difficult, even controversial, subjects with impunity. Honor, religion, politics, nobility, integrity, greed—we’ve an endless list of ideals to be dissected and explored. And maybe learned from.” – Melissa McPhail.
F Trope: “Euhemerism – a rationalizing method of interpretation, which treats mythological accounts as a reflection of historical events, or mythological characters as historical personages but which were shaped, exaggerated or altered by retelling and traditional mores”
Current Event: http://etyman.wordpress.com/2013/01/13/euhemerism-juhim%C9%99%CB%8Cr%C9%AAz%C9%99m/, http://perdurabo10.tripod.com/ships/id233.html
Austin Jake Byme shook the water from his blazing red hair, pushing it back with both hands. He’d have to cut it if he wanted to disappear – he’d be identified by his locks for sure, thief that they thought he was. Footsteps on the planks of the stern wheeler IRON MOUNTAIN sent him scurrying back along the sides of the boat and ducked into an open aft door just before the paddle wheel as it strained for a moment, then with a massive groan, began to turn, pushing the boat away from the dock and the copper who’d been chasing him.
The hold was packed with bags of flour and crates of supplies. From the roof hung the cured carcasses of pigs and cow. Chickens scurried out from under his feet, clucking sleepily as he slipped behind a crate, wedging himself into the space. He was asleep in a moment, shivering a bit as the darkness brought up the cool, Mississippi mists.
He woke in the deep darkness to the sound of the creak of a plank and the cluck of a chicken. Immediately aware, he pulled his legs tight to his chest as quietly as possible. The carcasses began to swing together, rhythmically and the panes of glass in the windows rattled in their frames. There was a sudden flash of light and the temperature in the hold dropped. A moment later, a voice said, “I know you’re in here, Master Byme, wedged between the wall and a crate, thinking I’m some sort of ghost.” Austin squirmed. The voice said, “And you’ve no idea who I am, but I’ll tell you when you come out.”
Austin blinked in amazement then slid forward, to his hands and knees then rose up. Pins and needle ran up and down and he caught himself on the leg of a pig. He said, “Who are you?”
The person stood in deep shadow, though Austin could see his legs. Dark material, the pants with pockets though he wore no coat. He stepped into the light. Wearing a waist-length under shirt and nought else, he stepped again and Austin started. The voice belonged to a boy, perhaps a few years older than himself. His head was haloed in hair so red it seemed to glow. Austin said again, “Who are you?”
“Your great-great-grandson from the early 22nd Century.”
“What?”
“That’s funny, your autobiography didn’t mention that you went deaf at the end of the 19th Century.”
“My autobiography?”
“Yeah. It was great reading, and I’m not here to kill you and change the future.”
“What?”
The other boy snorted and said, “HG Well’s THE TIME MACHINE won’t be published for another twenty-three years.”
“Who’s HG Wells?”
“Jules Verne?”
“Oh! FROM THE EARTH TO THE MOON and JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH! Those are…”
“I know. Your favorites. But neither of them has anything to say about what I just did.”
“You built a time machine?”
The other boy snorted and said, “Not exactly, but sort of.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He cleared his throat and said, “My name’s Jake Austin.”
“That’s my...”
“I said I was your great-great-grandson! There’s proof if you’re wondering about it.”
“It’s not that…it’s just that…”
The planks beneath their feet lurched, throwing both boys backward...
Names: ♂ America, Ireland
Image:
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/98/71/e5/9871e52bbc09c525af21b8f6471eab15.jpg
In this feature, I’ll be looking at “advice” for writing short stories – not from me, but from other short story writers. In speculative fiction, “short” has very carefully delineated categories: “The Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America specifies word lengths for each category of its Nebula award categories by word count; Novel 40,000 words or over; Novella 17,500 to 39,999 words; Novelette 7,500 to 17,499 words; Short story under 7,500 words.”
I’m going to use advice from people who, in addition to writing novels, have also spent plenty of time “interning” with short stories. While most of them are speculative fiction writers, I’ll also be looking at plain, old, effective short story writers. The advice will be in the form of one or several quotes off of which I’ll jump and connect it with my own writing experience. While I don’t write full-time, nor do I make enough money with my writing to live off of it...neither do most of the professional writers...someone pays for and publishes ten percent of what I write. When I started this blog, that was NOT true, so I may have reached a point where my own advice is reasonably good. We shall see! Hemingway’s quote above will now remain unchanged as I work to increase my writing output and sales! As always, your comments are welcome!
Without further ado, short story observations by Beverly Cleary – with a few from myself…
What could Speculative Fiction writers learn from BEVERLY CLEARY?
“She’s just a kid's book writer! What could she know about writing specfic? Ridiculous!”
If I’m not mistaken, the three novels starring Ralph C. Mouse could be considered fantasy, I suppose…At any rate, growing up, I learned to read using programmed readers. Contrary to popular hysteria, it didn’t seem to hurt me at all, and in fact introduced me to a story written by Beverly Cleary that stayed with me since fourth grade. The story was one about a boy named Henry Huggins, and was called “Gallons of Guppies”. Not only do I remember the story, it sparked in me a desire to get my own guppies, which led to a lifelong love of owning aquaria! It also moved me to introduce it to my grandson about “Gallons of Guppies” and gave him the book HENRY HUGGINS.
He finished it and then read all of the other “Henry” books: RIBSY, HENRY AND BEEZUS, HENRY AND THE CLUBHOUSE, HENRY AND THE PAPER ROUTE, and HENRY AND RIBSY in a matter of two weeks – that was in between playing Minecraft, watching YouTubes (“I don’t need to go to college, I’m going to be a YouTuber…”), and playing other online video games. From him, I have in my Messenger queue, a cat singing “Rasputin”, “How Much Do YouTubers make – [A YouTuber’s Earnings Calculator]”, and “Going to the Pet Store For the First Time Ever” by Ging Ging…)
And yet, he devoured Cleary’s HENRY books. Now THAT is longevity and non-historic relevance! How’d she do it? “…the quality that perhaps most distinguishes her is a willingness to let children be who they are. When Ramona Quimby names her doll Chevrolet because she thinks it’s a beautiful word, or squeezes an entire economy-size tube of toothpaste into the bathroom sink because she’s frustrated, or sweats through a school day because she’s wearing her pajamas under her clothes, the reader, young or old, can relate…” Cleary herself noted, “As a child, I disliked books in which children learned to be ‘better’ children.”
How can she reach so far across the “age divide”? She was born in 1916 – yet her words lit the imagination of my grandson and millions of other children who were themselves born just short of a CENTURY later! But she believed that, “…the emotions of children don't change. Their life situations change, but inside they're just like they always were. They want a home. They want parents that love them. They want friends. They like teachers that they like. And — and I think that — that's rather universal.”
She also really listened to children, and could pluck the most memorable phrases from their cacophonous conversations. “…at a public library in Yakima…she had a fateful encounter with a grubby little boy who wanted to know where to find all the books “about kids like us.” A credentialed children’s librarian, she had no answer. And she recalled her own childhood search for books about the sorts of kids who lived in her neighborhood — ordinary kids with ordinary kids’ concerns, like schoolwork and skinned knees and lost dogs and thought, I’ll write them myself.” Another anecdote that led to her most popular book that became a major award-winner after ‘two little boys who didn't know one another asked me to write about a boy whose parents were divorced. And I had never thought about it, but I said I'd — give it a try.’”
That book was DEAR MR HENSHAW. It won the Newbery Medal from the American Library Association Notable Children's Book; the Horn Book Fanfare Children's Book Award; and Children's Book Awards from various states including VT, NJ, HI, OK, and MA. Clearly Ms. Cleary listened VERY carefully!
What about the necessity of being “inspired”? Cleary doesn’t seem to have much patience with that. “Writing is practice. It means writing when you don’t feel the muse or aren’t compelled to sit still enough to piece together a few sentences. More and more, the words persistence and discipline land at my feet when I consider my writing practice. In my office, I hear a woodpecker chipping away at a tree, the staccato beats consistent. The metaphor isn’t lost on me.”
Because of that focus, Cleary was a very disciplined writer. Her daughter remembers: “When she would write every morning, she would sit down after breakfast, my brother and I would go to school, and she’d write, till noon or so. She never waited for inspiration, she just got to it.” Beverly Cleary “is [also] known for her phenomenal memory, her flawless eye for detail and ear for dialogue, her exquisite timing and her economical prose.”
Kirkus Reviews said of the book, “All of this, in Leigh's simple words, is capably and unobtrusively structured as well as valid and realistic. From the writing tips to the divorced-kid blues, however, it tends to substitute prevailing wisdom for the little jolts of recognition that make the Ramona books so rewarding.” In a retrospective essay about the Newbery Medal–winning books from 1976 to 1985, literary critic Zena Sutherland wrote, “Perhaps because Cleary so deftly shows her protagonist changing there seems no need for alternate voices or viewpoints to give breadth to the story. Its immediacy never becomes too intense; its humor never makes light of the seriousness of the theme.”
“Each of her 30-plus children’s books is a master class in effective storytelling.”
So, how might I apply that wisdom to writing SF? It seems to me that there are aspects of her writing for children that I can apply to my own writing:
1) “…let children be who they are…”; SpecFic translation? Let your characters be “who they are” – extension: you have to know your character well enough to let them BE something; then when you write about them, you have to be true to the characters you created – Human; alien; LGTBQIA+; or even inanimate object.
2) “As a child, I disliked books in which children learned to be ‘better’ children.” As writers, it’s not our job to “teach” stuff. That was my job for some four decades. My job as a writer is to entertain. In GRUMBLES FROM THE GRAVE, Robert A Heinlein wrote, “But if a writer does not entertain his readers, all he is producing is paper dirty on one side. I must always bear in mind that my prospective reader could spend his recreation money on beer rather than on my stories; I have to be aware every minute that I am competing for beer money—and that the customer does not have to buy. Applied to 21st Century SpecFic readers? The competition is obvious: YouTube, Twitter, TikTok, Instagram…and whatever new social platform grows wings and flies in the future.
3) “…the emotions of children don't change. Their life situations change, but inside they're just like they always were. They want a home. They want parents that love them. They want friends. They like teachers that they like. And — and I think that — that's rather universal.” Applied to SpecFic readers? If you’re writing Human characters – and let’s be honest, most of us want to read about characters we can connect with – you’ll be dealing with Human emotions, in all of their wide, wide range. Don’t always choose the easy way out. Even so, writers branch out and try all kinds of things – Stanislaw Lem’s SOLARIS is an intelligent ocean. I have had trouble at least twice understanding that book.
4) “Writing is practice. It means writing when you don’t feel the muse or aren’t compelled to sit still enough to piece together a few sentences. More and more, the words persistence and discipline land at my feet when I consider my writing practice.” This doesn’t need any translation into the SpecFic world! It’s clear as glass.
5) Unobtrusively structure your story, keeping it valid and realistic.” In DEAR MR HENSHAY, Cleary did this, ‘From the writing tips to the divorced-kid blues…it substituted prevailing wisdom for the little jolts of recognition…’” As a SpecFic writer, I need to keep my Human characters grounded in their Humanity. The setting
6) In a retrospective essay about the Newbery Medal–winning books from 1976 to 1985, literary critic Zena Sutherland wrote, “Perhaps because Cleary so deftly shows her protagonist changing there seems no need for alternate voices or viewpoints to give breadth to the story. Its immediacy never becomes too intense; its humor never makes light of the seriousness of the theme.” Show your characters CHANGING! Lisa Cron, in her book “Wired for Story: The Writer's Guide to Using Brain Science to Hook Readers from the Very First Sentence”, she writes, “It’s the story’s job to poke at the protagonist until she changes.” Again, the application to SpecFic is obvious and needs no translation!
The last comment is an invitation to me to grow my writing skills: “Each of her 30-plus children’s books is a master class in effective storytelling.”
Challenge accepted.
References: https://www.readingrockets.org/books/interviews/cleary/transcript, https://rudribhattpatel.com/2016/04/12/beverly-cleary-my-love-of-books-and-the-writing-process/, https://www.today.com/parents/judy-blume-shares-piece-advice-beverly-cleary-gave-her-t213217, https://vocal.media/motivation/learning-how-to-be-an-author-from-dear-mr-henshaw, https://magazine.washington.edu/feature/beverly-cleary-has-spent-a-lifetime-telling-stories-for-kids-like-us/, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dear_Mr._Henshaw, https://avalonlibrary.net/ebooks/Robert%20A.%20Heinlein%20-%20Grumbles%20from%20the%20Grave.pdf
Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhK6miXJMTMNyB3kzq-r6I2LVCTZJj0CDS0dPV2Qapl6e9rZPuHx2u5QKcKT1QGeDg1_tPMv-lpnuSr_eiBjwPXmex9mcgtuH2-SUtZEpGWV0_HdtJQelVt5K69NulJBUqNju5GNjHgQibXsIo4NeWpTOj4ai85jCRjMHOtwtkqshzxFvZPUSjXZNq6=s320
Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them. Octavia Butler said, “SF doesn’t really mean anything at all, except that if you use science, you should use it correctly, and if you use your imagination to extend it beyond what we already know, you should do that intelligently.”
SF Trope: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CryoPrison
Current Event: Astrophobia is an irrational fear of stars and space and may take different forms, from fear of aliens to fear of space exploration. (https://www.verywell.com/fear-of-space-2671680)
Harper Zakaria pursed her lips. She tapped them for a moment then said, “So you want me to revive this…criminal so that we can escape the dirty sandbox people like you have made of Earth?”
Abdelkader Mäkinen scowled at her. In the past, people would have said his high forehead and wide-set, almost entirely brown eyes made him look like an alien. “I had nothing to do with Anthropogenic Global Warming. My ancestors lived in Northern Finland and Algeria – mostly they were teachers and scientists, so they had nothing to do with AGW and in fact, my great-grandfather started the first windmill farm in northern California in the early Oughts.” He actually sniffed and as Harper rolled her eyes, he continued, “Now that we’ve established my credentials and innocence…”
“You didn’t establish any credentials, sir. You just absolved yourself from blame because of something one of your distant ancestors did.”
“Now see here, young lady! My family…”
“Credentials?” she said, smiling.
He actually harrumphed then said, “I’ve been on the UN Global Climate Reconstruction Committee for fourteen years and was recently appointed Chair because of my brilliance and based on the plan I’ve devised that will…”
Harper held up a hand, pursed her lips, shook her head, then looked up at the tall meta-alien in her office. “So you want me to revive one of the bad-boys from the mid-Twenty-first Century so you can fly him to one of the Martian Colonies and get the Prairiedogs back into space again, right?”
He stared at her, his mouth actually open. She considered pointing out that he was a cartoon cliché in the flesh, but was pretty certain he wouldn’t be a buff of TwenCen flat animated cartoons. She let him sputter a few moments, planning on interrupting him if it took too long when he said, “How did you…”
“I don’t spend all of my time watching the sleepers, Senator Mäkinen. I have to have something to do in my spare time. I’ve read up on the astrophobia pandemic.” She smiled sweetly. “I confess that you wouldn’t be able to pay me enough to leave Mother Earth, no matter how filthy she is.”
The man wasn’t going to respond, instead, he scowled more fiercely and said, “You can mock all you want, young lady, but those of us afflicted are all that we have left behind. It seems that somehow the Colonists took the wanderlust gene with them when they abandoned the Mother World.”
She shrugged. “Not my problem, I guess. So you still haven’t explained why you want to revive prisoner,” she glanced down at her ‘pad, then up at him. “AAA000200.”
“That’s not for you to question, young lady! I have here,” he flourished an opad at her. She took it, glanced at it, and handed it back to him as he continued, “An order from the UN GCRComm demanding that you revive and release the prisoner to me.”
“It wasn’t countersigned by the Secretary General,” she said, handing it back to him. She grinned a toothy grin at him, then turned off the effect.
“It’s not necessary…”
She cut him off, “You may think I’m just a button-pusher, Senator, but as I said, I don’t just sit here watching the sleepers all day. I have a BA in pre-Law from Columbia Online and I’m two thirds of the way through Columbia Law School. I have my MD from Brigham and Women’s in CryoMedicine with graduate studies in Revival Mechanics.” She stopped, smiling at him.
He held her gaze for several minutes, then finally began to fidget, still maintaining eye contact. Finally he looked away, pocketing him ‘pad. He looked back at her, a different look on his face. He studied her then said, “I was told you were young and idealistic. I was also told you were smart and stubborn.”
“Correct on all counts.”
“But we need…”
She cut him off, “I agree, Senator. You need this prisoner in order to get the rest of us off Earth again. But I’m not sure you know who you’re dealing with.”
His ‘pad reappeared in his hand and he glanced down at it, “Admiral Concepción Shimizu was decorated…”
Harper glared at him as he continued reading, unaware of her regard. When he looked up finally, his monologue faltered then stopped. “What?”
“She’s a thief, a murderer, and despite the fact that she single-handedly stopped the South African Resurgence from turning the southern half Africa into a new Apartheid regime, she still single-handedly also severed this world from its Colonies when she bombed the Elevator.”
This time he was prepared and flashed a false grin at her before he turned it off and said, “That is why my plan is brilliant. We will give her the opportunity to redeem herself in the eyes of all Humanity.”
Names: ♀ New Zealand, Somalia; ♂ Algeria, Finland; ♀ Paraguay, Japan
Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/e1/Falcon_9_Demo-2_Launching_6_%283%29.jpg/220px-Falcon_9_Demo-2_Launching_6_%283%29.jpg
Initially, I started this series because of the 2021 World Science Fiction Convention, DisCON which I WOULD have been attending in person if I felt safe enough to do so in person AND it hadn’t been changed to the week before the Christmas Holidays…HOWEVER, as time passed, I knew that this was a subject I was going to explore because it interests me…
Part 4: https://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2022/05/slice-of-pie-mining-asteroids-part-4.html
I was surprised to see “The Believers Shall Inherit the Solar System” in the May/June 2022 issue of my favorite magazine, ANALOG Science Fiction and Fact, NOT because of its conclusions, but because of the fact that I’ve been thinking about this very idea.
I’ve been writing about how Humans might effectively mine the minerals since November of 2021. After reading it, I first thought I’d totally missed the boat. After some thought, I realized that there are parallels between Raymund Eich’s solution to the challenge of feasibly mining the asteroids. (Eich has a B.A. and a Ph.D. in biochemistry, from Rice University. He currently files patent applications. In a typical day, he may talk with biochemists, electrical engineers, patent attorneys, and rocket scientists.)
I proposed tapping prisoners who had been sentenced for life-without-parole and creating a captive workforce to mine the asteroids (a timeless solution to mining dangerous ore or in dangerous conditions), but offering them freedom if they successfully reach their goals and removing their influence and “contamination” from the surface of Earth.
He suggests that “Whether in service to God, nation, or historical forces…colonist are dedicated to something greater than themselves.”
Diametrically opposed forces, “For God/Ideology vs Self Serving Egocentrism”, I’ve been wondering if they could be harnessed together and form an even more potent force.
In a note (on an envelope) I’d written to myself in November of last year, I said, “Mining asteroids might breed separatist communities; essentially hollow asteroids that might be repurposed into new worlds – places where Humanity might start to change. One of them a pre-Confluence , growing designer Humans, euthanized when they don’t work out as planned; and another convinced of the superiority of unaltered Humans.
A pre-Confluence ship, in orbit around Jupiter designs Humans to work in the Jovian atmosphere, “prospecting and mining H3”; they also mess around with organic ambulances as high tech ones are prohibitively expensive. They begin to design people low-g Humans – but they are forever unable to return to Earth. They become true citizens of space.
Eichs postulates that making money isn’t enough of a motivation to leave Earth, given the massive investments required to start an off-Earth mining colony versus the expected return. He also has to throw in a couple of imaginable-but-undeveloped technological advances that are little more than ideas and inklings right now. He firmly believes that the driving factor for the colonization of the Solar System (including mining the asteroids and the other planets) is UNCHANGED from all of Human history. He writes, “The details of their causes varied, but all these [pre-America] colonization movements have in common a cause greater than individual self-interest. Whether in service to God, nation, or historical forces, the colonists were dedicated to something greater than themselves.”
In my scenario, where prisoners form the base of forced labor, the stick is the asteroid; the carrot is not only freedom, but the possibility of turning their skills from valuable to the state, to valuable to themselves; ie, the will get paid for their work as miners once they complete a one-year orbit around the Sun.
What if I combined the two? What if the prisoners are selected on the basis of their dominant ideology? Place prisoners who tend toward Buddhist beliefs together. Capitalists can be grouped together – it might make a rather interesting story if you selected con artists serving time. Sort of like “Oceans 11” in space…but who would they be conning? Hmmm…Other combinations might work as well. I postulate that the prisoners – all of them serving life sentences – will be drawn from multiple countries, multiple prison systems. Maybe group their crimes together, but intentionally induce a sort of Babylon (NOT Babylon 5!) effect. None of them speak the same language – how do they learn to communicate. Your average asteroid would carry an extensive library (devoid of the POLITICAL SCIENCE, heavy on engineering, science, agriculture, animal husbandry, genetics, and other subjects that wouldn’t help them break out.
So, the asteroids would be particular mixes of prisoners…
Eich mentions one other thing: “A spiritual leader. [The phrase] might raise alarms…but all gurus and spiritual guides look like madmen to outsiders. And without a leader’s ability to create a ‘reality-distortion field’, who would cut ties with family and friends and go on a months-long, one-way journey, at the end of which wait years of toil to turn a lifeless planet or asteroid into a home?” My idea of using forced labor makes the “incarceration” limited – a year or so in orbit around the Sun, drop off the mined ore, and if it was a successful orbit, then the survivors are allowed to go free. Of course, I could add a “vote” – the forced labor could indicate which of their comrades deserve freedom. Lazy workers or those who only “took up space” would be locked up during the transfer, and released once the asteroid was on its way again.
There are a number of possibilities, nuances, and more importantly, STORY IDEAS here! Another one I thought of while writing this, a mystery: an asteroid mining facility returns empty. No sign of the prisoners. No sign of any life at all. And no bodies. What happened to them? Only time will tell. As Eich concludes: “…hundreds more possibilities to both entertain and make us thing as only science fiction can do.”
Extras to the article in ANALOG Science Fiction and Fact: https://raymundeich.com/my-controversial-article-in-the-latest-issue-of-analog/, https://www.analogsf.com/current-issue/table-of-contents/
Resources: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_asteroid_close_approaches_to_Earth, https://www.pharostribune.com/news/local_news/article_7fcd3ea5-3c14-533f-a8d5-9bf629922f34.html, https://www.fool.com/investing/2022/04/29/like-asteroid-mining-be-careful-what-you-wish-for/, https://www.nps.gov/wrbr/learn/historyculture/theroadtothefirstflight.htm, https://hackaday.com/2019/03/27/extraterrestrial-excavation-digging-holes-on-other-worlds/, https://www.planetary.org/space-missions/every-small-worlds-mission,
Image: https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/976/cpsprodpb/A2D5/production/_114558614_hls-eva-apr2020.jpg
NOT using the Programme Guide of the 2021 World Science Fiction Convention, DisCON III, which I WOULD have been attending in person if I felt safe enough to do so in person AND it hadn’t been changed to the week before the Christmas Holidays…I WILL NOT use the Programme Guide to jump off, jump on, rail against, or shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. This explanation is reserved for when I dash “off topic”, sometimes reviewing movies, sometimes reviewing books, and other times taking up the spirit of a blog an old friend of mine used to keep called THE RANTING ROOM…
Short answer: HELPLESSNESS
Long Answer: The rest of this PIE.
HARRY POTTER appears in the first book as a baby in a basket being dropped off at his aunt and uncle’s house by a witch, a wizard, and a guy riding a flying motorcycle with a sidecar. According to most Earth biology, you can’t get much more helpless than a baby.
Most of you are familiar with the story, but if you’re not (“What Culture do you live in – the books are available in eighty languages and Braille!) the story starts with a helpless boy who remains pretty helpless for 1.2 million words. He also manages to defeat the Ultimate Evil with the help of hundreds of individuals who sacrifice their lives (including the most powerful wizard of the age) and wreaks havoc on TWO universes…and remains basically helpless except for the fact that he’s deeply connected to the Ultimate evil and destroys him through that fact with little effort of his own.
In CHUCK, we watch the ultimate Stanford University failure-turned-Nerd Herder (aka Best Buy Geek Squad member) accidentally become the most powerful database known to Humanity, the Intersect. Instead of overthrowing the world and becoming the Emperor of Man, he stays basically the same and is handled until he becomes one of the most powerful tools on Earth; while remaining a clueless, helpless nerd who loves his sister, and has a total dork for a best friend, wins the love of a deadly CIA agent who happens to be Greek goddess-level beautiful – because he IS who he IS: a helpless nerd who loves his sister and his mediocre job, best friend, family, and life.
In the STAR WAR Original Trilogy the same story is reiterated: LUKE SKYWALKER on the brown-end of the Universe on a farm in (almost literally) the middle of nowhere with a grumpy uncle and an aunt who knows everything but can’t do anything about it because she, too, is helpless. When Luke leaves, he’s helpless. When he gets two robots he’s helpless. Even when he finds out he can wield world-bending power…he’s helpless. He remains so for some nine-plus movies.
In 2020, quarantined siblings Austin and Taryn joined forces under their family name DURRY to make music together for the very first time. In 2021 their careers were launched by their tiktok viral track, “Who’s Laughing Now”. Quickly gaining notoriety because Durry bottled up a few inner monologues — everyone from parents, to society, to their church doubted they could “make it”. Their paean to helplessness and lack of support brought them to the attention of Limp Bizkit front man, Fred Durst and became one of Jade's Music You Should Know picks one week. Here's the video: https://youtu.be/M02UGmRYQ_4
SPIDERMAN, in all of his iterations, was a kid who lost his parents, then lost his uncle to gun violence (sound familiar?). On a field trip sometime in high school, he’s bitten either by a radioactive spider or a genetically engineered spider and suddenly has the powers of a spider – strength, speed, senses, and no fear of heights – oh, did I mention the ability to stick to anything?
So, Peter Parker has everything any kid could possibly want. He can beat any of his enemies to a pulp, he can take on super villains and after getting beat up some, beat them and live to go home to his Aunt May (who has variously been depicted as elderly to barely middle-aged…). He’s also friendly, works in his neighborhood, and is known as Spiderman. But his most defining quality? He’s shy, quiet, and has so few friends that virtually no one knows who he is. He has no influence on society except for the tiny lives of people he interacts with. Of course WE know he’s destined for greatness, but HE doesn’t know that. In fact, for much of his book-time and absolutely through a big chunk of his movie time, he continues to lament that he’s basically…helpless.
It's been my experience that the vast majority of people feel helpless. I venture to believe that it’s this basic piece of the Human condition that drives everything from the Mother Theresas of the world to the Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Putin’s
So what?
All of these people, whether real or imaginary, whether musicians or CIA agent, have somehow managed to draw to them literally MILLIONS of fans. Not necessarily billions of dollars…oops, I guess BILLIONS OF DOLLARS is correct, AND millions of fans.
In the beginning, they attracted people just like them – geeks, dorks, the unnoticed, the ones “real society” labeled losers. These losers – and let me tell you up front that I AM one of them. I made countless Batman costumes out of paper grocery bags and carved a STAR TREK phaser out of a block of wood and nailed another one on it for a handle, then pounded five nails into the front end for a barrel – and then when I shot someone, I made a shrieking sound while vibrating my tongue…
These people, like myself, live lives of helpless normality. NOT desperation. Regular people will never get a government data base crammed into their heads, and the only thing a normal person will get after being bitten by a radioactive/genetically engineered spider, is a rash. They will not receive letters with wings announcing that they’ve been accepted to a wizarding school. Dorky farm boys will not suddenly discover that their father left them a light saber that will symbolically challenge an interstellar Empire, and be hailed as one of the last of an extinct order of Jedi knights. A brother and sister will NEVER discover that a TikTok they made in their basement has a million hits, they have an agent and a tour...rather than mom and dad upstairs as their only audience.
What sets all of these stories apart? It’s not the “powers” they got – magic, technology, arachnid power, or a zillion dollar record contract and road tour?
They remained the same: helpless, endearing, dorky. What changed was the world around them. And everything changed around them NOT because they were different. It changed because they were NORMAL people who kept choosing to keep going and not giving up when their worlds seemed to be going to hell-in-a-handbasket.
They believed that what they COULD do was important.
Because Harry, Chuck, Peter, Austin and Taryn, and Luke didn’t become jerks because of their suddenly power. Of COURSE they could act like jerks sometimes (and did, “Are you listening Harry?), but there were normal people around them who brought them back down from their High And Mighty Spaces, elbowed them in the side, and reminded them that while they may be “The Chosen Ones”, their close friends knew better.
They were just normal people tasked with doing extraordinary things WITH THEIR FRIENDS, FAMILY, AND LOVED ONES.
Lisa Cron writes in her book, WIRED FOR STORY, “…we’re wired to turn to story to teach us the way of the world” (p 2). She also writes that our brains experience a story as if it were REAL: “A recent brain imaging study reported in Psychological Science reveals that the regions of the brain that process the sights, sounds, tastes and movement of real life are activated when we are engrossed in a compelling narrative.” (p 4)
When I read a story that is ABOUT a king, emperor, superhero, alien, or a 15-year-old guy, I’m just not as interested, because I can’t really connect with them. They aren’t part of my reality. I can, however, keep reading and putting away my pre-judgement, I can let myself sink into the STORY.
Harry, Chuck, Peter, Austin and Taryn, and Luke are all stories I can fall into because they’re about normal people. They’re about helpless people just like me. But ALL OF THEM BROKE OUT OF NORMALITY AND MADE A DIFFERENCE IN THE WORLD.
They all inspire normal people NOT by their greatness, but by their persistence and stubborn resolve to keep moving ahead and make a difference in their stories.
Which leads ME to believe that maybe, just maybe, I can break out and make a difference, too.
Image: https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRqrDpvtsj4_UYyotB5o8rZgxVjKLuEw6OyQQ&usqp=CAU
Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them. Regarding horror, I found this insight in line with WIRED FOR STORY: “ We seek out…stories which give us a place to put our fears…Stories that frighten us or unsettle us - not just horror stories, but ones that make us uncomfortable or that strike a chord somewhere deep inside - give us the means to explore the things that scare us…” – Lou Morgan (The Guardian)
H Trope: Black Barf http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadBlackBarf
Current Event: Ebola Outbreak (http://cydathria.com/ebola.html)
Haysam Akbhar-Sosa shook his head and said, "This is impossible. I can't do it."
Bao Coppage stood beside him. She said, "We don't have any choice. If Ebola spreads any farther, it's gonna take over the world." They looked down at the waves of refugees fleeing Egypt and the Middle East, ravaged by a nearly uncontrollable strain of Ebola. They were on foot, in cars, buses, being pulled by donkey, oxen, and even other humans whom they whipped. She said, "It's stop it here and now or we all go down."
"I don't much care if Europe and the US go down..."
"There are people of faith everywhere, Haysam. They're all gonna die. This strain of Ebola doesn't care if you're a holy man or an avowed atheist."
There was a long pause and she'd known him long enough to expect him to argue. But this time he said only, "I know." He leaned over the sights of the monstrous flamethrower. Mounted on the gondola of the massive helium balloon, they flew slowly along with the river of sick humanity.
"We might not have to do anything," Bao said.
He shot her a look and she was surprised when he said, "Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but it's either kill these...ghūl...ghouls..."
"You know what these things are?"
He nodded slowly, "They're from ONE THOUSAND AND ONE ARABIAN NIGHTS." He paused for a long time, then added, "My brothers would tell me stories about them after I tattled on them."
"Your brothers told you the stories?"
He snorted, "Yeah. They hated me because I was the baby of the family and mom loved me more." She scowled and looked at him. He batted his eyelashes and then burst out laughing.
Leaning into him, she opened her mouth to reply when a commotion broke out below. Directly under the gondola, all they could see was people bunching up instead of trudging on. Bao had to pull back on the throttle and then give it a short reverse spin.
"What's..." Haysam began. Then the faces below looked up at them. There was a wet, gurgling sound, then a mass of humans looked up, opened their mouths. An instant later, what looked like a fountain of tarry black liquid rushed up.
It wasn’t. They’d been told them to wear gas masks, so they were suited up. What no one had mentioned was tentacles. Black, dripping, horrible, the slender, pestilential whips grabbed them, slammed Bao and Haysham, then tore the masks from their faces. Convulsing in a paroxysm of agony, they screamed until...
Names: ♀ China, England; ♂ Egypt, Bahrain
This essay has been revised and updated from the version that appeared on June 5, 2011, and again since January 2020, and today, June 2022.Long ago, in this very galaxy, I wrote a column for an ancient blogsite called FRIDAY CHALLENGE in which I answered the question, “Why Do We Write?” I admit, I had a brilliant answer! (;-)) You can read my first thoughts here: http://thefridaychallenge.blogspot.com/2010/12/why-we-write_19.htmlSince then though, I’ve had second thoughts about how important this question is to ask.Let me back up about fifteen years, to the year of Clarke’s "Space Odyssey". The seed for this thought fell on the ground the first time. My wife and two young kids were out garage-saling. We stopped at a house that had kid’s toys and clothing and got out. While my wife checked for treasures, I wandered into the garage.[Let me pause in the story to give you a bit of local tradition: While every house I know of has a car garage – it’s hard to start a car that’s been sitting out directly exposed to -27 cold for any length of time – when we build the garages, most of us don’t INSULATE them. No reason; like I said, it’s a tradition. Typically, the interior of a garage presents an image of bare pine studs with some sort of exterior insulation laid over the outside on which clapboard or stucco or other siding is attached. From the studs hang numerous brackets, hooks, pegboards, sheet rock, shelves and electrical conduit or Romex® cable and either bare incandescent light sockets and bulbs or an arrangement of fluorescent fixtures and bulbs. Garages are usually utilitarian spaces reserved for cars, tools, lawn mowers, canoes, fertilizer spreaders, grass-clipping catchers, roof rakes, snow blowers, garden implements, and snow shovels.]In THIS garage however – in addition to the traditional décor – every space between the studs has a 14-inch piece of pine stud nailed into place at 12 or so inch vertical intervals. On each of the 14-inch pieces, paperback novels were packed side-by-side from the base plate to the rafters.There were hundreds of books. Possibly thousands and all of the books were marked FOR SALE. I started in a corner and began to scan for titles that contained the words “star”, “alien”, “invasion”, the name of a real planet, a name that sounded like the name of a planet or anything that looked in any way “science fiction-y”A guy approached me and asked, “Lookin’ for something in particular?”He was only a little older than me and acted like this was his place, so I said, “Are all of those yours?”Grinning, he nodded and said, “I’ve read every one of them, too!”I’d noticed that while it was a broad selection, it seemed to be heavily weighted toward horror, romance and thriller. I was impressed. “All of them?”“I was gonna be a writer, so I was told I had to read not only in the genre I wanted to break into, but outside of it as well. And I was supposed to keep current, too.”I wanted to be a writer when I grew up, too! I said, “Did you get many things published?” Thinking I’d found a writer-soul-mate a mere four blocks from my home, I found my heart was racing. I confess was hanging on his every word.Shaking his head, he replied, “Nope, so I gave up.” He meandered away to help someone fill a paper grocery bag with books, leaving me startled and heart-broken.At that point in my career, I had no professional publications despite decades of throwing short stories, essays and novels at the heavy, quarry-stone walls of the Citadel of the Editarchs. Even then, standing in that slightly dank garage, I didn’t seriously consider giving up.Why?In the cold, hard light of the up-side of the third decade of the 21st Century, I have to honestly say to myself, “Why don’t you just give up? Why don’t you take up a hobby in which you might not only stand a chance of showing improvement, you might even take lessons! You’ll NEVER get really published!”Of course, since then, I’ve had 73 professional publications, an uncounted number of unpaid publications that others read and comment on (and not including my personal blogs), and I have international publications and the place of a "regular" in one prominent magazine. Yet even today, I confess I still feel that tug of rationality.Then my inner writer exclaims, “What? Quit writing and give up this luxurious life of fame and fortune? ‘Get thee behind me, Satan!’”My honest conscience fires back, “I’ll bet you have no idea how many times you’ve had stories, queries, articles and essays rejected.” It adds in a perfect Steve Zahn rendition of his quip from YOU’VE GOT MAIL, “As far as I can tell, the internet is just a new way to get rejected by women.” It adds in a snide voice, “You’ve submitted 973 times and published 93 manuscripts. That’s a pub rate of 9.5% since 1990. Pathetic!”The inner writer then points out, “While that may be true, the earlier years were typically 0,1, or 2% pub rates. Last year you had only 2 of 32 manuscripts published. That’s only 9.3%, and you didn’t even get paid for either one of those!”“True, but half of them were REQUESTED! And you’ve sort of become a kind-of regular at ANALOG!”The argument subsides and I’m left wondering what was it, standing in that garage twenty years ago, that made me go back and keep writing when every logical bone in my body and the thousands of paperbacks on the wall said, “Take up STAR TREK model building! At least you’ll have something to show for it!”?While there was probably a measure of sheer cussedness in there, I think what kept me going was a deep desire to speak my mind in a way that was so entertaining that no one would realize that I’d spoken it.Boiled down to its bare bones and reconstructed like a dinosaur skeleton, I find that the reason I’ve kept on writing since I was thirteen might be summed up in the words of Jeremiah, “…read from the scroll which you have written at My dictation the words of the Lord to the people in the Lord’s house on a fast day. And you shall read them to all the people of Judah who come from their cities.” Jeremiah 36:6 (NASB)I work to write what God directs me to – sometimes better than at other times. But always I want to write his word so that others can read them and see His glory and salvation.And THAT’S the real reason I don’t quit, and after rereading this in 2021, in the waning months of the COVID19 pandemic, it still all holds true…Image: https://thewornbookmark.files.wordpress.com/2015/08/lr-b-small-3.jpg
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