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A Tale of Two Tattoos

25 Jul 2012 by KRAG

Last night we screened the American version of “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.” I was disappointed, but not unexpectedly so.

Spoiler alert: If you haven’t seen the movie already, skip this post.

We read the books (in hardcopy, of course) years ago, burning through the trilogy in record time (for me…I’m a slow reader). While I didn’t find them flawless, I found them much more entertaining than Dan Brown or any of the other modern “thriller” genre. Personally, I found the whole Blomkvist-as-Babe-Magnet a bit tiresome, and felt Larsson intruding into the story with every conquest his hero made.

We did enjoy them, though, and when the Swedish movies came out, we snapped them up, screened them, and loved them.

In adapting a novel to the screen, you have to change something; you have to. Many people just don’t get this, and they’re angry when the screen version doesn’t match up with the novel, point for point, like a DNA profile. Every adaptation has to drop some elements, combine others, and sometimes insert new elements in translating from word to picture.

The Swedish versions did this perfectly. They dropped everything that was unnecessary (like the Blomkvist-as-Babe-Magnet wish-fulfillment), collapsed time, merged some ancillary characters, and told a story that was tighter, leaner, meaner, and more compelling than the original. Not bad.

Then, because Americans can’t be bothered to read subtitles, we made a version of the same movie, in English. It wasn’t atrocious, and if I’d seen it first, I’d have been less disappointed, but here were my complaints:

  • The opening credit sequence looked more like the start of a Bond film. It had nothing to do with the imagery of the film, a soundtrack that was jarring and out-of-place, and seemed so off-target that we wondered if they’d sent us the right DVD.
  • Why was Duck Lips (aka Daniel Craig) the only person in the movie who didn’t have a Swedish accent? Hell, even Robin Wright (great casting, BTW) did a passable job.
  • It was clear that someone in the Hollywood machine felt that the American version of Lizbeth had to be a bit more…sociable. While Rooney Mara did a very good job of acting, the writing and direction weakened the character. If you haven’t seen Noomi Rapace’s portrayal, rent the Swedish version and compare them. That is the Lizbeth Salander from the book.
  • Why change the end of the Harriet mystery? Why collapse the Anita/Harriet characters? The movie hit this point and it was like hitting a cobblestone road in run-flat tires. Bumpity-bump-thump, a few clumsy lines of dialogue, and Poof! Anita is gone. Where? Who knows, and it was so clunky I didn’t even scan back to parse the ham-handed expository block.

Not all was less than the original. Some of the Kubrik-esque rolling shots were quite effective, the soundtrack (apart from the opening credits) was effective, and Duck Li…I mean Daniel Craig was a more animated, less cryptic Blomkvist.

k

Posted in Movies | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Autopilot Disengaged

25 Jul 2012 by KRAG

Yesterday, I set my brain to percolate on the chapter I’m writing in Beneath a Wounded Sky. I know it’s working because my autopilot has been disengaged.

We all have one. For instance, I have to pay close attention to where I’m going until I get at least 5 miles from the house. If I don’t, say, because my wife and I are discussing last night’s movie, the autopilot kicks in and we end up taking the exit for the transit station I use.

I am very dependent on my autopilot in the mornings. I’m an “early bird” at work; I come in at around 6:15am. I do this because it gives me a good chunk of time before all the damned meetings start up, and it also means I get to leave earlier, and can have some daylight at home to do chores, etc.

But at 5:20am, going through the routine of ablutions and departure prep, I need that autopilot, and when my brain is silently stealing processing power to percolate on a problem, I end up with a broken routine. I forget to shave, or I forget my bus pass, or I leave my mobile on the credenza. At critical points in this book, I’ve had arrived at the bus stop only to turn around and go home because I’ve forgotten something critical.

This morning, as I was reaching into the medicine cabinet, I really didn’t have a clue what I needed to do next. Shave? Brush my teeth? What did I just do, and what comes next? Have I done everything I need to do?

As annoying as this is, it’s a good sign. And already the dam is starting to crack. I won’t give any clues away, but this is a transitional chapter in Beneath a Wounded Sky, and the way through it needs to feel right. I’ve already figured how all the characters are feeling at this point, and that’s a big hurdle; now I can start putting them in motion.

Now…where did I leave my pen?

k

Posted in Fallen Cloud Saga, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Obligatory Coffee Rant

24 Jul 2012 by KRAG

I live in Seattle, and we have a reputation for loving our coffee. I’m no different, however, I am not a purist by any means. I can’t tell if you brewed it with tap water or distilled water or filtered water or Artesian spring water, and unless your tap water is really awful, I bet you can’t either.

I have my favorite brands of coffee—Torrefazione Italia is the best I’ve had, but hard to find; Caffe D’arte is a close second, but not available in stores—but they’re so expensive that I only get them from a barista. For everyday brewing, I buy in bulk, try to get fair-trade beans of good quality, and grind it myself as needed in a good burr grinder.

But where I can make a huge difference is in the brewing.

I’ve tried almost every brewing method. I’ve tried brewing it cowboy-style in an open saucepan (toss in an eggshell to make the grounds sink), which I do not recommend, and for years we simply stuck with our standard drip-maker and a small Braun espresso machine.

On the more esoteric side, I’ve tried one of those vacuum-siphon brewers. Aside from the sheer coolness of watching it work, and the drama it imparts to the ritual cup of coffee, it only delivered a mildly better brew than standard drip coffee makers. High-maintenance to use, a bitch to clean, it also was so fragile that it broke after only a few days’ use; a disappointment, but not a tragedy, as I’d already made my decision that it wasn’t worth the trouble.

For pure outlandishness, I have also tried the Presso® espresso maker, which works solely on muscle power. A hand-pulled demitasse is pretty cool, and it cleans up pretty easily, too. It wasn’t expensive, and it’s very solidly built, so I’ll keep it around.

But, for the best cup of coffee you can brew, I say you can’t get better than the old-school, low-tech, tried-and-true method of the French press. We use a Freiling press (pictured top) that has double-sides of stainless steel, so it also acts as a thermal insulator, keeping the coffee warmer, longer. Put your burr grinder on “coarse” and brew up a cup. Steep it for 4 minutes (longer if you need a slice of coffee instead of a cup), keep the press on the table, and serve as needed. It is never bitter, never harsh. My wife, who gave up coffee because it upset her stomach, can drink it again, now that we brew it in the press.

Another win for low-tech!

k

Posted in Food, Low Tech, Seattle | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments »

Percolation

24 Jul 2012 by KRAG

Kurt R.A. GiambastianiNo, not coffee (though as a Seattleite, I have my opinions on that, too). Mental percolation.

Today, I pulled out my pen and pad, and read through the last bit I wrote yesterday. As I was reading I realized that I didn’t know where I had been taking the scene. Going further back, I read more. Still, no clue as to where I was going.

You might think that, after yesterday’s post about outlining techniques, I have it all down on paper, but even a detailed outline won’t tell you everything about a scene. I may have a five-page outline for this FC:V, with chapter breaks and notes on POVs, but there’s still a world of difference between that and the words and action in an actual chapter. The outline gives me the plot, but it doesn’t give me the subplots, the little “side trips,” or the variations from the original that pop up while I write a novel. It will give me the main characters and their general thoughts, but it won’t give me those subtle interactions or the conversational threads that are the fabric of the book.

In short, I knew where I was going, but didn’t know what road I had been paving to get there. 

Today, therefore, is a “percolation” day.

A percolation day is a day with more thinking than writing, where I remind myself throughout the day of where I want to go, and let my subconscious mull on the exact path I want to take.

It’s a strong tool. I use it to retrieve old memories (What’s that actors name?), figure out the answer to a question (Where are my keys?), or solve a problem (What is really happening in this scene?) It’s also a useful tool when I’m just starting to flesh out a story idea; percolation taps into creative processes that work best in the background, where the noise of language and logic is silenced, and where symbols and concepts can be swapped freely.

So, the pen and paper went away, and I pulled out my outline. I’ve changed a lot, as I’ve been writing Beneath a Wounded Sky, and have deviated from the outline at several points, but re-reading the original outline is still helpful. The original outline still has the excitement of that new idea, and the purest rendition of the roadmap I envisioned, so even after I hare off on a wild tangent, I can use that original outline to course-correct back toward the goal.

I’ll keep that outline at hand, today, and use it to keep the problem fresh in my mind. By this evening, then, I’m pretty sure I’ll know how I want to finish off this scene and close the chapter.

Percolation, baby…Percolation.

k

Posted in Fallen Cloud Saga, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Freewheelers and Tactitians

23 Jul 2012 by KRAG

I know, I know; it doesn’t have the same ring as Swoopers and Bashers, but when it comes to outlining, Freewheelers and Tacticians describe the two major approaches.

When I used to go to conventions, Freewheelers were the ones on the panel who would say something like, “I just put my characters into a situation and then I see what happens.” No outline, no synopsis, nothing like a roadmap. Just whip up some characters, plunk them into a dilemma, and off you go!

To its credit, Freewheeling is a very organic method of writing, and is very well suited to the “Swooper” technique. Plot twists are created on the fly, and ancillary characters pop up ad hoc. It’s a quick-start method and works like a charm for many, many writers. But its strength is also its weakness. In my discussions with Freewheelers, they’ve admitted that Freewheeling can lead them up dead ends where, despite their best efforts, they’ve essentially written themselves into a corner. In such situations, the Freewheeler has to throw out a large section of the work and go back to a pivotal point where they should have zigged instead of zagged.

As you can tell, I am not a Freewheeler. I am a Tactician, and I find the Freewheeling method bewildering.

Tacticians write outlines. Short story or Novel, if it has a plot, it has an outline. The level of detail in the outline can be pretty high, and Tacticians often have trouble knowing when to stop outlining and start writing. This method is as bewildering to Freewheelers as theirs is to me. “What do you mean, you know how it’s going to end before you start?” they ask. My response is always the same.

Ever read a book that just falls apart at the end? Where suddenly things happen in a blur or characters do something entirely out of, well, out of character? Or where the action just fizzles, as if the writer got bored and had to wrap it up? I’ve read plenty of books like that, and I’m pretty sure they were written by Freewheelers.

I want to know how my book ends before I start because I want to make damned sure that it’s got a good ending, from the start. Also, as a Basher, I don’t want to waste the time (or if under deadline, can’t afford the time) it takes to go back and rewrite two or three chapters when I end up in a literary cul-de-sac.

There is a hybrid method, though. I saw it in action, and I’ve adopted it for use in developing ideas and writing synopses for unwritten works. It’s called The Hardy Boys Outline, and it’s dead easy. Back in the old Hardy Boys books, chapters had a title that basically told you what was going to happen. You could read the chapter titles and get a really good idea of the entire plot. The Hardy Boys Outline is just that. Here’s how it works.

Jot down your character names and a phrase that describes them. Then start writing the chapter titles. For example, “On the Hunt for Jessie” or “Captured!” is all you write, and that’s what the chapter will be about. One colleague used to put them on yellow-stickies so he could rearrange them or pop a new one in between two others as he developed his plot.

I used this method to outline Books II-V in the Fallen Cloud Saga. It helped me define the arc of the series, and the scope of each novel. I went on to write a detailed outline of each book as I began them, but that’s me.

k

Posted in Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

In Brief

20 Jul 2012 by KRAG

Kurt R.A. GiambastianiI’ve never considered short stories to be a money-making proposition. The days of ten-penny-a-word venues for genre fiction are gone; you’re lucky to find even a penny-per-word, these days. But short stories are still a really good way to explore a new technique or try out an idea. Some of my novels were born directly from a short story, and many ideas I’ve used in novels I played with and refined in short stories.

But if I were to add up all the money I made from published short stories, I might have enough to buy a couple weeks’ worth of groceries. If you subtract all the money I spent on postage, paper, and ink, in trying to get them published, we’re talking about a fancy dinner out for four. That’s a lot of work for very little coin.

So, I’m bringing them online, where they can hopefully be read by more people than ever saw them in print.

Check out the Short Subjects page in the Writing section. I’ll be bringing more online as time permits.

k

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The Good, the Bad, the Idiotic

20 Jul 2012 by KRAG

There’s a lot of chatter on the blogs about bad reviews and what to do about them (like The Misfortune of Wondering). Bad reviews are a fact of writing life; they cannot be avoided. You’ll get them from critics, from readers, from family and friends, and at times, from fellow writers (those are the worst). But no matter the source, there is only one acceptable response.

What is that acceptable response? Well, it isn’t is to fire off a flaming bitch-fest where you call the reviewer an illiterate berk and question his paternity. Despite the immediate satisfaction this activity provides, it is definitely not the way to go. If you must, write it and then delete it.

However, neither is it acceptable to write a reasonable, point-by-point rebuttal to the critique, noting how this scene is obviously an allusion to Homer’s “The Odyssey,” depicting the character’s inner journey, and how your hero’s deformed limb is a device to mirror Richard III, which should be clear to anyone with an education. These refutations always come across as whiny and insecure (yes, pompous can and often does come across as insecurity).

In short, a response is never acceptable, because (a) you never convince the reviewer you’re right, and (b) because you (the writer) never appear in a good light. A response always makes the writer look silly, pedantic, immature, petulant, patronizing, or just plain stupid. There are as many reasons for a bad review as there are bad reviews. Some people just don’t like the sort of stuff you write. Some may like the genre, but just didn’t like the book. Some nitpickingly comb through any book and tag the writer for any flaw, real or imagined. Some reviewers, including a few professional ones, are bitter, small-minded people for whom tearing down someone else’s work is a way to make them feel better about themselves. And then there are some reviewers who have read the book, considered it with a well-educated mind, and simply found it to be flawed.

No book is perfect. No book will please every reader. No book is immune from the bad review. Just go out on Amazon; even the critically-acclaimed and best-selling titles have bad reviews. I’ve had bad reviews a-plenty. One reviewer panned my entire novel because of one perceived factual error (it wasn’t an error). Another reviewer panned me because he didn’t like the historical Custer, and didn’t want to read a novel with him as a character (this is substantive?) I’ve had bad reviews of every stripe, and responding to these bad reviews is futile, useless, and possibly career-damaging.

The only acceptable response is to read them and consider them. Just like you would consider the feedback from a fellow writer or a writers’ workshop, consider the feedback from a bad review. In both cases, the feedback may be meaningful; the reviewer may have touched upon a flaw you hadn’t seen before. If the feedback is valuable, use it; if not, dump it.

Here’s the crux: if someone doesn’t “get” something you wrote, if someone doesn’t understand that character’s motivation or what that scene really meant, then you screwed up, not the reader. The book is perfect in your head, but it’s never perfect on the page.

k

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