Sunday, June 13, 2004
The End
Yes, once again I get to write the two most marvelous words in the English language. THE END. I finished Halo, Goodbye this weekend, and was quite pleased with it. I have a secret confession. I was having trouble wrapping my words around the main character. I mean, she's dead (not a spoiler) and how can I relate to that? However, a writer-friend of mine posted on a loop of mine about some of her insecurities and then WHAMO, she turned into Madelyn (albeit not dead). She was the absolute perfect combination of denial and optimism and stubbornness. Pretty much in every story I've ever written there's been a WHAMO moment. Sometimes it's character, sometimes it's plot, and sometimes it's just some fun bit of fluff that I know would be perfect. It's a great, great feeling.
I took my kids to see Garfield today. Usually I avoid movies that involve characters from twenty years ago, but they wanted to go see it, and "the end" had been written, so who was I to play mean mommy? So we went. It wasn't bad, actually. The story was very functional and un-lame. Now, I'm not saying it's the best thing out there, but it stands tail and paws above The Cat In The Hat. That's all I'm saying....
And speaking of movies, this one has been bugging me. The Stepford Wives. Now, I saw the original and I really liked it. It's a great horror movie, and then they decide to remake it as a black comedy? I don't get this. And if they had asked me (which they didn't), I would have given them my idea for a great horror movie: The Stepford Boyfriends. Can't you see this? Women who can opt for a Mr. Perfect boyfriend? Not a lover, not a husband, but a boyfriend. He knows all the right lines, he calls when he says he will, he's always there on Friday nights to watch The Big Easy with you, and runs out late on Saturday's for Coffee Heath Bar Crunch ice cream. And now, here comes the horror part: the men of the world start getting anxious. Women are getting it somewhere else, and these 'boyfriends' are threatening their very existence. And guess what, women can reproduce without men, so you know, the male of the species becomes a novelty, right up there with New Coke and Pet rocks. There's your true horror. THAT's what they should have made, not this one... and I even like most of the cast (does anybody else think Matthew Broderick is a stud? (besides SJP?)).
Oh, well. Tomorrow I have to start thinking of my book for Harlequin. It's a Temptation, set in New York during a blizzard. I could another one of the WHAMO moments about now.....
I took my kids to see Garfield today. Usually I avoid movies that involve characters from twenty years ago, but they wanted to go see it, and "the end" had been written, so who was I to play mean mommy? So we went. It wasn't bad, actually. The story was very functional and un-lame. Now, I'm not saying it's the best thing out there, but it stands tail and paws above The Cat In The Hat. That's all I'm saying....
And speaking of movies, this one has been bugging me. The Stepford Wives. Now, I saw the original and I really liked it. It's a great horror movie, and then they decide to remake it as a black comedy? I don't get this. And if they had asked me (which they didn't), I would have given them my idea for a great horror movie: The Stepford Boyfriends. Can't you see this? Women who can opt for a Mr. Perfect boyfriend? Not a lover, not a husband, but a boyfriend. He knows all the right lines, he calls when he says he will, he's always there on Friday nights to watch The Big Easy with you, and runs out late on Saturday's for Coffee Heath Bar Crunch ice cream. And now, here comes the horror part: the men of the world start getting anxious. Women are getting it somewhere else, and these 'boyfriends' are threatening their very existence. And guess what, women can reproduce without men, so you know, the male of the species becomes a novelty, right up there with New Coke and Pet rocks. There's your true horror. THAT's what they should have made, not this one... and I even like most of the cast (does anybody else think Matthew Broderick is a stud? (besides SJP?)).
Oh, well. Tomorrow I have to start thinking of my book for Harlequin. It's a Temptation, set in New York during a blizzard. I could another one of the WHAMO moments about now.....
Thursday, June 10, 2004
The All-Important Author Brand
I'm taking this online course on promotion and author branding which has been very good and informative, and makes me think about all those things about my writing which I never think about. Like, for instance, what is my theme? What is my overarching message that transcends each and every story that I write? Well, when you have written a historical romance, one Duets, six Temptations, and two chick-lit books, an overarching message is difficult to discern without several glasses of wine.
So, in the pursuit of artistic meaning, I sat down with my wine (in the tradition of so many great writers before me), and pondered. I drank and pondered, and drank and pondered. And I think I figured it out. My message: ta-da! is that there is a hero within us all. And I was so proud of myself for figuring this out. I analyzed each story that I had written and it seemed to fit them all. With my voice trembling in excitement (not really, but it sounds good), I told my husband my news, and was just about to jot off an email to the online class. However, then I got sidetracked reading The Spooky Art by Norman Mailer, the Pulitzer Prize winning, Norman Mailer. He pontificates SO much more eloquently than I ever could conceive of pontificating. In fact, I was so enthralled by said pontifications that I poured another glass of wine, so that I could truly comprehend the powerfulness of his pontifications. And then I came to this one passage, and was stopped cold: "Tolstoy teaches us that compassion is of value and enriches our life only when compassion is severe." Oh…My…God. That is Tolstoy's brand. Draconian Compassion. And here I was so proud of my trite little, "hero within us all." HA! Mine doesn't even begin to compare.
In desperation, I pondered some more (albeit while imbibing even more freely). And I came up with a few that were loftier than my original:
Pleasure Without Pain is Impossible. Nah. Doesn't play well in the romance community. A Plot Without A Big Misunderstanding Can Never Be a Plot. Nah, but I was getting closer, I felt it! I kept working (and drinking), and came up with a whole list of possibilities:
Love Conquers All…Except When You're Courtney
Men Love Spunky Women
An Ex is never truly an Ex Unless she is wicked, spiteful, and has skanky sex with inappropriate men and possibly animals, too
No, somewhere along the way, I had begin to lose sight of what I really believed in. I was getting nowhere… So I put down the Spooky Art, (handily, it can serve as a coaster for my wine glass) and decided that my original brand was correct. There is a hero within us all. It's not Draconian Compassion, but hey, I can live with that.
So, in the pursuit of artistic meaning, I sat down with my wine (in the tradition of so many great writers before me), and pondered. I drank and pondered, and drank and pondered. And I think I figured it out. My message: ta-da! is that there is a hero within us all. And I was so proud of myself for figuring this out. I analyzed each story that I had written and it seemed to fit them all. With my voice trembling in excitement (not really, but it sounds good), I told my husband my news, and was just about to jot off an email to the online class. However, then I got sidetracked reading The Spooky Art by Norman Mailer, the Pulitzer Prize winning, Norman Mailer. He pontificates SO much more eloquently than I ever could conceive of pontificating. In fact, I was so enthralled by said pontifications that I poured another glass of wine, so that I could truly comprehend the powerfulness of his pontifications. And then I came to this one passage, and was stopped cold: "Tolstoy teaches us that compassion is of value and enriches our life only when compassion is severe." Oh…My…God. That is Tolstoy's brand. Draconian Compassion. And here I was so proud of my trite little, "hero within us all." HA! Mine doesn't even begin to compare.
In desperation, I pondered some more (albeit while imbibing even more freely). And I came up with a few that were loftier than my original:
Pleasure Without Pain is Impossible. Nah. Doesn't play well in the romance community. A Plot Without A Big Misunderstanding Can Never Be a Plot. Nah, but I was getting closer, I felt it! I kept working (and drinking), and came up with a whole list of possibilities:
Love Conquers All…Except When You're Courtney
Men Love Spunky Women
An Ex is never truly an Ex Unless she is wicked, spiteful, and has skanky sex with inappropriate men and possibly animals, too
No, somewhere along the way, I had begin to lose sight of what I really believed in. I was getting nowhere… So I put down the Spooky Art, (handily, it can serve as a coaster for my wine glass) and decided that my original brand was correct. There is a hero within us all. It's not Draconian Compassion, but hey, I can live with that.
