Meanwhile…

This past weekend I went to see the new Harry Potter movie. The movie was fine, I enjoyed it. But there was a scene that reminded me of a common storytelling event that I’ve grown weary of – amazement at the fantastic.

Mostly this annoys me in stories in which the character should be a veteran of the incredible. Harry, for example, has battled dragons and giant snakes, rode a flying car to escape spiders the size of horses, and routinely encounters ghosts at his school. Is he really going to be impressed when someone waves their wand and cleans up a room?

I’m not saying there shouldn’t be a sense of wonder imparted to the viewer. But don’t have Harry staring like a slack-jawed yokel every time someone levitates a pencil or fixes a crack in a window.

This is one of the reasons I’ve grown a little tired of the “origin” story and tend to not write them for my superheroes. How many scenes do we need of someone looking at their hands in wonder, or trying to figure out how their powers work for the first time, often with “wacky” and “hilarious” results.

We see this so often because of the standard storytelling device wherein an outsider is chosen to tell the story. This outsider offers basically the same perspective as the audience, and provide someone normal that the reader/viewer can identify with. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s an effective way to tell a story. But I think when it comes to these fantasy and science fiction stories, especially late in the story when the character should have long since acclimated to the fantastic happenings around them, it’s a little bit of a stretch. We should consider, too, that the audience has likely seen something far more impressive in other stories.

Save the awe for when something genuinely awesome happens.

Clearly, I’ve fallen way behind on my Story Every Day exercises. I just barely squeezed one out for today.

Still, I thought it would be fun to play around with a minor bit character I created for Shades of Red way back when. I had to look him up just to remember his name. In a way this is sort of a follow-up to that story, one of the consequences of that adventure. Some of the best genre stories are from the point of view of someone not directly involved with the big epic that’s taking place. The little guy on the side who’s a witness to these big events can offer a fresh perspective on the action and help flesh out the universe at the same time.

This story involves Radio Gal, who if you’ve been around here long enough you’ve seen once or twice before. Just the first few hundred words. For some reason I have a blast writing these scenes of superheroes just sitting around talking. Continue reading

Playing around with yesterday’s SED (which I didn’t finish) I took a stab at writing my first non-powered superhero, an archer named Quivering Jack. The couple of paragraphs I scratched out aren’t good, but that’s not important. I enjoy the concept of the character, who is basically a jackass and womanizing glory-hound. And that’s just in his off hours. His day job as an actor will offer various other opportunities for him to be a bit of a diva as well.

It’s fun to write characters that are unrepentent jerks, but of course you still have to figure out how make them palatable for the readers. There’s a built-in advantage, though, in that any story that ends with them not being a complete asshole can be considered at least somewhat of a success in terms of character development. Deep down, Jack is a good guy, but his attitude will likely get him into trouble along the way.

Writing someone without powers will be interesting. With someone like the Scarlet Ranger I can have all sorts of big, exciting things happen – tossing her through nuclear reactors, leaping off buildings, etc. That sort of big-budget extravaganza has to be toned down for the street-level heroes. There are certain practicalities to consider – how they get around, how heavy their equipment is, how they deal with injury, all that stuff.

With an archer, there’s another level to worry about, that being that bows probably aren’t all that practical for crime-fighting. If you need to slaughter 10,000 Frenchmen, sure, break out the longbows, but there are serious concerns when it comes to street fighting with that sort of weapon. It’s not exactly a non-leathal weapon. The ammunition is a bit bulky, so I imagine it’s hard to be an acrobat while lugging around a quiver full of arrows. I’m undecided on whether to give him trick arrows, but I’m leaning toward keeping him grounded. The one bit I liked from what I wrote yesterday was Jack advising an injured goon that with modern surgical techniques he’d likely only lose 20-30% functionality in the impaled hand. Regular pointy arrows will keep the cheating to a minimum, I think. No short-cut boxing-glove arrows for quick victory.

All the same, archers have a fine tradition among the ranks of superheroes, so I thought it would be fun. As soon as I get something good written I will perhaps post a bit here.

I almost missed it, since it went up over the weekend, but Frank has an excellent new story up over at Every Day Fiction – check it out.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine was about as disappointing as expected. They crammed a lot of unnecassary characters in, and to do so they condensed and butchered the portions of Logan’s origin story that are actually interesting.

Part of the problem is the taming of Wolverine for a mass audience, which is strange because the untamed Wolverine has about as mass an audience (in comic book terms) as you can get. The film completely passes over the years he spent feral and savage in the Yukon, living with wolves. His time with the Weapon X program is chopped down to like one mission. They don’t cover any of his time in Japan (though there is a hint at it after the credits). I’m not being fanboyish here – I certainly don’t expect the film to be slavishly devoted to the source material. It’s just frustrating when they ignore so much great material in favor of some 30-second fan wank appearance of Emma Frost or Gambit or other characters who have nothing to do with Wolverine’s origins.

Oddly enough, Wolverine is kind of a Mary Sue. For a character that has had tragedy after tragedy heaped upon his comic book incarnation, nothing bad really happens to him here. He has help at every turn. When he needs more power, someone comes along and gives it to him. When it looks like he meets someone who can defeat him, people who hated his guts five minutes before show up to save the day. This is motherfrakkin’ Wolverine, people. If anyone is custom made to have horror after horror perpetrated on him, just so that he can stand back up on his own and slice the shit out of whoever did it, it’s him.

There are other things to not recommend the movie as well – the last third of the film is fairly predictable and chock full of cliche. The filmmakers also underestimate the audience and feel like they have to explain things that are obvious.

It’s not all bad. There are some fun action scenes. There are some great performances from most of the cast (though I can’t imagine who thought it was a good idea to put Will.I.Am in there). If you want to completely shut off your brain and enjoy a fun action flick, you’ll find something there to enjoy.

According to the May Table of Contents, “The Squeeze” will be going up over at Every Day Fiction on the 11th. It’ll be a funny little story to start your week. Unfortunately that’s right in the middle of my vacation, so I won’t be around to really see the response. I’ll do my best to check in, though.

Yes, I’ll be going on vacation next week, starting on Wednesday. The wife and I are California bound. We’ll meet up with friends in LA and drive up to San Francisco. As per local law, I will be wearing flowers in my hair.

This weekend will be crammed with chores and preparation for the vacation, but I will find some time to go see the Wolverine film. I believe we have some free passes around here somewhere, and this seems a good time to use them.

The formula for superhero films is always that the more characters you add, the worse it gets. I don’t get why the studios still haven’t learned this. Wolverine seems to be adding as many unnecessary characters as possible to an already complex origin story, virtually guaranteeing disaster. Wolverine is one of those characters who can be fun even in a bad story, so I think it should still be at least moderately entertaining.

It seems this sketchbook has been too long without a sketch!

I’ve been planning since the site launch to have art depicting various scenes or characters from my stories. I have received a couple of preliminary sketches from friend Katie and it is pretty exciting!

Over breakfast this morning I was flipping through my trade of Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely’s “All Star Superman” and I was struck again by what a fantastic book it is. If you’re unfamiliar with the series, I must insist you go out and buy it. Right now. It’s been fully collected in two hardcover volumes now (sadly, I haven’t gotten the second half yet, because DC’s trade program is terrible - but that’s a discussion for another time).

It’s everything a Superman story should be. There’s action, insanely jacked up science, humor, sweet romance, tragedy, and probably some other stuff I can’t think of. Quitely is at the top of his game here. I hear people say they can’t identify with Superman, or that he’s a “bad character” because he’s so powerful, but forget all that noise. Those people just haven’t read the right Superman story. Or, more likely, haven’t read any Superman stories at all.

The basic premise is that Lex Luthor (whose portrayal here as an arrogant genius who simply cannot stand the fact that someone like Superman exists, and a narcissist whose belief in his own superiority is his greatest weakness, is dead on) succeeds in, basically, giving Superman cancer. Suddenly faced with mortality, Supes has to decide what to do with the time remaining him.

There’s an issue about Pa Kent which, well, if you don’t tear up a little it proves only that you have a heart of stone and metal, driven by gears and pistons.

What “All Star Superman” does most of all is inject a sense of breathtaking wonder to the Superman world. It should be awesome to see Superman fly through the sun, or Lex Luthor pull off a trap from millions of miles away. These are amazing feats, and they should amaze us.

In the rush to be gritty and realistic, a lot of writers neglect that a wonderous story can be just as powerful.

I’ve been in a bit of a writing funk, so I thought I’d put my mind toward a writing prompt. Virginia provided this gem for this month’s prompt contest:

Write a story poem or scene about someone discovering/becoming a superhero at the age of 32.

I thought this would be a fun opportunity to write a little bit about Astro Jack. I haven’t done much with Jack, but the basic concept behind him is that he’s basically the grandfather of the superheroic age in which all my other heroes live. He was the first big hero, the one who made it big and popular. Sort of the Superman of my ‘verse. Most of his adventures take place in the ’20s through the ’50s.

Aside from that basic concept, I haven’t really fleshed him out. So why not start now?

This is just a little bit, just a starting sketch. Maybe if I can get this blasted space western done I can move on to this afterward. Who is this Jack Martin, and what happened to him in the savage trenches of France?

Continue reading

I was giving some thought to Wonder Woman last night. I’ve been rereading DC’s Crisis stuff lately, starting with Identity Crisis and moving on through the Infinite Crisis. I’ll start in on reading 52 again sometime soon. I’m still grappling with whether I liked the ending of Final Crisis, and I thought it might be useful to reread from the beginning. It’s quite a bit – we’re talking several year’s worth of stories here, stories that have reshaped the DC Universe. Wonder Woman features pretty prominently in the early portions of the Crisis series.

It’s hard not to love Wonder Woman. She’s mind-staggeringly beautiful, powerful, and noble. She’s regal. When she tells someone she believes in them, you can’t help but believe in them, too. She exudes infectious confidence. And she’s got a bit of a dark streak in her; you know she’ll do what’s necessary to triumph, which occasionally brings her into conflict with other heroes and gets her into trouble. When Darkseid corrupts her at the beginning of Final Crisis, you know the world is in for some rocky times.

She’s kind of a difficult character to get a handle on. A lot of people only know her from the old television series. I think if you told them that her rogues gallery was full of gods and mythical monsters rather than mobsters, and that she could fly and is one of the few people who could stand up to (okay, slow down for a few seconds) Superman, they’d probably think you were crazy. I’m guessing she’s quite difficult to write, too, as there are hardly any definitive Wonder Woman stories laying around. Most of what I’ve read of her involves the Justice League.

What I find most fascinating about Diana is the disconnect between her and the rest of the world. She comes from a paradise full of women. She has only a vague concept of the effect she has on the men around her. She has little more than her training, her mission, and her innate sense of justice (justice that doesn’t necessarily match up with our own) to get through her adventures in man’s world.

So I guess this is where I hit a snag. What makes her interesting to me is probably what undermines her as a feminist icon. Ultimately, who the hell is she to tell women they need to stand up and fight for what’s right? What has she experienced that the common woman can identify with? Sure, she can give some great tips on how to wear a brass bra, but is she the person you go to when you find out your boss has been stingy with your pay raises for the past 20 years? Has anyone ever sneered at her for gaining five pounds? Has some jackass threatened her if she wants to cut her hair? Not likely.

Don’t get me wrong, I think she’s something fantastic to aspire to. She seems like a great end result. But what does it mean if to get there you can’t have gone through all the shit that real women have to go through? Or is it enough to simply have something to look up to, regardless of the potential for the common person to achieve that greatness?

[I should note that I've kind of always had more of a thing for her sister and former Wonder Girl, Donna Troy. Le sigh.]

I’m kind of stalled on my space western at the moment, but last night I began a new superhero flash piece. I wrote a paragraph or two, and when it came time for this guy to start using his powers, I wondered at how important or unimportant most people consider the actual powers when they read stories about metahumans.

This probably seems like a no-brainer to most people; if anything distinguishes a super-powered hero from a run-of-the-mill hero is the supernatural powers, right? (For the moment we’ll set aside guys like Batman or Green Arrow.)

When I was younger, I completely agreed with that. I had to know exactly how Bishop’s power worked, or what Magneto’s limits were. The bright splashes of color and people getting knocked through walls and thrown into orbit is what really made those stories fun.

But over the last few years I find that I don’t really care all that much. Powers are important insofar as they inform people’s personality, sure; someone who is invulnerable may approach a situation or relationship differently from someone who is a telepath. But I find that the actual details just aren’t all that important to me, or even find them tedious, getting in the way of the stories and character interactions that I actually want to read. In my last post, I mentioned briefly that over the last few years, Matt Murdock has hardly spent any time in the Daredevil costume – in essense, Daredevil has hardly been in the Daredevil series. And I didn’t really care. The problems of Murdock’s personal life, and the consequences of all those years during which he was wearing the costume, were interesting enough to keep the series more that simply afloat. Matt is one of those rare superheroes who is just as interesting without the mask as with it.

When Ultimate Spider-Man debuted, it got a lot of flack because the costume doesn’t even show up until issue 6 (or whenever it was, somewhere around then). When I read, I didn’t even notice. Who cares about this Spidey guy? There’s a perfectly entertaining Peter Parker here keeping me interested.

That’s not to say I don’t like the costumes and the energy beams. But I just don’t feel like I need to know exactly how many tons Colossus can lift. He’s a big guy, and he’s really strong. Move along. I want to see him have a beer with Wolverine. I want to know if he’s going to hook up with Kitty Pryde.

When I sit down to start writing a new hero, I tend to initially assign them a generic set of tank powers – strong, tough, maybe they fly. If the story needs them to have something else, I’ll change it. Personality first, powers second or third.

Along that same vein is the origin story – I don’t consider how they got their powers nearly as important as why they’ve decided to use their powers for this particular purpose. Power sources are usually pretty silly anyway, which is why I consider the advent of the mutant to be a pretty important milestone. Trim the fat.

As a result of all this, I’m afraid I’m too lazy on the power side of things. Most of the heroes I’ve created are pretty basic – tanks (like the Scarlet Ranger), energy manipulators (like Starburst, Radio Gal, or the Chicago Defender), or mages (like Sevastian or Tenebrous). Do I need to try and stretch and come up with new abilities? Is it even worth the bother considering the glut of metahumans already on the market? Would it distract me from what I consider priorities? I don’t want someone to look at one of my stories and roll their eyes and say “Oh, hey, another dude that shoots lasers out of his eyes, pass!” but I also don’t want to get bogged down in unimportant details or force myself to come up with something really weird that takes a lot of explaining to even be remotely understandable.

I guess this falls pretty much into the same category as “how much technospeak do you want in your science fiction?” I think most people would agree they want it kept to a minimum, especially since most of it’s just made-up nonsense to begin with. But a superhero’s powers can actually be a pretty important part of their personality, so it becomes a more relevant, and difficult, issue for me.

Or maybe I’m just getting old and thinking about it too much.