Brent Hartinger's Blog, page 10

So in my latest podcast, my friend and fellow Media Carnivore, Erik Hanberg, have taken on the question that every writer everywhere is currently discussing. Check it out — it’s (almost) everything I know about publishing and book promotion, folks!

Part One: Here we discuss mostly “big picture” stuff about the pros and cons of self-publishing.

Part Two: We talk about our individual experiences with both traditional and self-publishing. Plus, bonus book promotion tips!

Word in the biz is that the dystopian YA fad is finally winding down — and not a minute too soon, IMHO.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been blown away by (or even very interested in) a dystopian-themed book, movie, or TV show, and lately I’ve been wondering why.

Partly, I think, it’s because I’m tired of how bleak and hopeless it so often is. Like everyone else, I feel pretty bleak and hopeless about the real world. In the United States, there is a huge faction of idiots who won’t even agree that our most pressing problems are problems, much less how we should go about solving them.

I’m tired of dwelling on these these incredibly depressing feelings in fiction too. It’s not cathartic or “freeing” for me; it’s just makes me feel even worse than I already do.

Besides, there’s pessimism, and then there’s pessimism.

I’ve never been been a fan of the kind of dystopian fiction where the only real “story” or goal for the main character is for him or her to eventually accept what a shitstorm the world, and his or her life, has become. I hated The Age of Miracles for that reason, for example.

But there was definitely a time when I was a fan of “bleak” dystopian fiction — the Parable series of books by Octavia Butler, for example. And I get how The Walking Dead (the comic novel) was daring in its time. The point wasn’t to cure the zombie virus; it was simply for the characters to stay alive!

Ten or fifteen years ago, back when I was excited by these storylines, the choice to be so bleak felt bold and subversive to me. The authors were saying, “The world is going in a horrible direction! Unless you idiots wake up, this kind of story is what’s going to happen!”

That’s not pandering. That’s insightful.

But what was daring and insightful to me fifteen years ago doesn’t feel that way to me now. Now it seems cynical. Yes, yes, the world’s going to hell, and it’s all hopeless, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

THAT’S WHAT EVERYONE IS SAYING. That message is ALL OVER THE PLACE. It is exactly what the audience expects.

Which means it’s pandering. It’s meeting the audience exactly where they are — not challenging them in any way.

It’s definitely not a subversive artistic choice, that’s for sure.

It’s also not very interesting to me, or where I’m at right now, or even what I want in my fiction.

Frankly, I want hope. I want a little optimism. The problem with cynicism is that it’s such a dead end. But I understand it’s ongoing appeal to writers, because it seems so daring and edgy and sophisticated.

Maybe cynicism was daring once, but it’s not anymore. In 2014, it’s the safe, obvious, boring choice.

Dystopian is, by definition, sort of depressing and pessimistic. But science fiction, of which dystopian is just one sub-genre, runs in cycles. Science fiction itself was fearful and paranoid in the 50s (The Blob, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Godzilla), somewhat hopeful in the 60s (Star Trek, Robert Heinlein, Arthur C. Clarke), bleak and depressing again in the 1970s (The Omega Man, Silent Running, Soylent Green), then somewhat hopeful again in the 80s (E.T., Star Wars, Cocoon, the Star Trek reboots).

Basically, I think (hope?) we’re due for another swing of the pendulum.

Yes, yes, the world is a shitty place, and our problems are incredibly overwhelming. Now that we’ve stewed in our own helplessness for over a decade, the question I want writers to start asking is: what exactly are we going to do about it?

(And wouldn’t you know it? That’s the theme of a project I’m working on now!)

What do you think of all the dystopian projects? Tired of them? Still interested?

Last year, Michael and I refinanced our house. We have great credit (scores of 780+), a ton of equity, and decent jobs.

And the process was A COMPLETE AND ABSOLUTE HELL! They had us jumping through hoop after hoop after hoop, and at several points in the process, we were thinking we’d never get financing at all. At many other points, we thought, “To HELL with this! Who CARES if we never get financing?!”

It was obvious why the system had broken down: prior to the recent economic crash, things had become far too lax.

But now they had become much, much, much too extreme. It had swung so far the other direction that the system was basically insane. The only reason the industry persists at all (IMHO) is that people are so highly motivated — people need refinancing! it saved us thousands of dollars a year! — that we’ll put up with the INCREDIBLE amount of BULLSHIT.

I can’t help but think this situation is pretty analogous to the entertainment industry these days.

Getting successfully published by a traditional publisher or getting a movie produced with actual stars isn’t impossible exactly, but in order to do so, you have to put with such an incredible amount of shit that only a very highly motivated person will ever stick through with the process to actually do it.

How did the entertainment industry in particular get so bogged down? Here are the reasons I see:

(1) Word Processors. Starting in the late 1980s, word processors made it so everyone could easily write a book or screenplay. And everyone did! It used to be publishers looked for manuscripts. Then they become overwhelmed, so they fobbed the job off on agents and managers. Then they become overwhelmed. It’s now virtually impossible to land any deal without good representation, and you can only get top representation with (a) a personal connection, (b) a major award, and/or (c) incredible luck.

(2) A Publishing “Industry.” You know where the real money is in publishing and/or movie-making? Selling some product or service to the hordes of people who want to break in! The downside is that there are legions of people, online and elsewhere, telling writers (for a fee) to “keep trying!” and “never give up!” A lot of these wannabees should give up. Basically, they’re cluttering up the system for everyone else. But who am I to tell someone to give up their dream?

(3) Fewer Opportunities. More and more people are writing books, but people are reading less and less (and becoming less and less willing to actually pay for content). So publishers are becoming more discriminating about what they publish, and/or gravitating toward projects with “built-in” audiences (celebrity authors, franchise tie-ins, and blatant rip-offs of popular existing books and genres). More and more people are writing screenplays too, but studios are now even more craven than book publishers, producing mostly sequels, remakes, rip-offs, tie-ins, and projects based on pre-established media properties.

Okay, so now that I’ve thoroughly depressed you…

Keep in mind that the status quo is complicated by changing technologies that have created newer opportunities in entertainment media: indie movies, web series, self-publishing. Alas, the pay for the vast majority of these gigs is very, very low (we hear about the rare exceptions, not the typical experience). Basically, it’s now very easy to publish a book project or produce a film if you finance it all yourself and don’t expect to make any actual money.

The truth is, it’s never been easy to be an artist. No one has a “right” to write, and even Shakespeare, Michelangelo, and Leonardo da Vinci needed patrons.

Even so, things are definitely very different now than they were twenty years ago.

The “optimistic” response to all this is to say: Yes, it’s absolutely right that the old entertainment industry is dead or dying. But a new entertainment industry is rising where people create content and promote and distribute it directly to consumers themselves. And a big part of the reason why this new industry is rising is because the old industry has become so incredibly frustrating, inaccessible, and inefficient for everyone except those on top.

In short, the way you break in now isn’t to land an agent or a publishing or movie deal. It’s to create your own content and (MUCH more importantly!) somehow also create a massive audience for that content. Then (and only then) will you have access to traditional entertainment distributors — publishers and movie studios. (But of course at that point, at least when it comes to books, you may not need a traditional publisher.)

If all this makes your head hurt, you’re probably over the age of thirty. Anyone under that age accepts that this is simply the way things are now.

Adapt or die.

Yup, in my latest podcast, that’s what we discuss!

Yup, that’s the subject of my latest Media Carnivores podcast. What’s my take? Find out here.

So my writer-friend Erik Hanberg and I have started doing a bi-weekly podcast called Media Carnivores wherein we discuss all things media-related: books, movies, and TV, and also whatever’s going on in our own careers as “media entrepreneurs.”

Mostly, it’s just an excuse to talk about whatever we want!

But this week we discuss the process of having one’s book turned into a movie — something I know a little something about. How did Geography Club get adapted as a film? Get the whole dirt at our website or download it on iTunes

I’m reposting this from 2012:

So I’ve been struggling my way through A Dance with Dragons, the latest 1000-page book in George R. R. Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire series (the basis for the HBO series A Game of Thrones).

Why am I still reading it if it’s a struggle? Because I find this latest book, like the last one in the series, A Feast for Crows, to be a fascinating example of a terrifically talented author who has almost completely lost his way.

On one hand, there’s no denying that, on one level, Martin is simply a fantastic writer. He prose is tight and clear and evocative, and his characters are incredibly real. The structure of the individual chapters is often about as good as structure gets.

But on the other hand, he seems to have lost complete control of his overall story.

As I understand it, A Feast for Crows and A Dance with Dragons, which are both massive 900+ page tomes, were originally intended to be a single volume in this series: Feast includes half of the characters’ stories, and Dance includes the other half (including those of the series’ most interesting and likeable characters, Tyrion, Jon, and Daenerys).

So Martin is spending more than 2000 pages on what what was supposed to be a single point in the story. And boy, does it show. Talk about the Never-Ending Story!

In recent interviews, Martin has mostly given up the ghost: he’s basically admitted outright that A Song of Ice and Fire isn’t about a “story” so much as it’s about “atmosphere.”

These words are like icicles through my heart. In my opinion, virtually all stories are about “story,” or at least they should be.

Yes, yes, of course, stories are all about the journey, not just the destination. But if there is no real destination, or if the destination is a blank to be filled in later (usually by the seat of the writer’s pants!), then, for me, the here and now loses a lot of meaning. I feel like I’m being jerked around. It’s angst for angst’s sake, not for any particular “point.”

Martin’s attitude, of course, is common in  fantasy literature and paranormal series in general: they frequently seem to be mostly about atmosphere and world-building and beloved characters, not about narrative or story or satisfying “resolution” or a “point.”

In my opinion, there just aren’t that many stories that are so “epic” they actually require trilogies — or, worse, more than three books.

Usually, less really is more. (This, I think, is why cable TV’s 12-episode series arcs are so much more tight and satisfying that network TV’s often-meandering 24-episode series arcs.)

Still, if this is your thing, this is your thing. I just happen to disagree.

But I still find the case of George R. R. Martin to be fascinating. I honestly think he belongs in a very small pantheon of about five truly “great” fantasy authors. And the first three books in the Ice and Fire series are unqualified masterpieces, IMHO.

So how could someone who is such a great writer not see what a catastrophe the series has become?

He’s gone rogue, he’s lost “in country”: he’s fallen so in love with his world-building and his characters that he has also lost perspective.

Or maybe it’s a case of Black Swan-itis (named after the terrific Darren Aronofsky movie). With the first three books, he came as close as a human being can to “perfection.” Like Moses, he saw God. But like Moses, and like Natalie Portman in Black Swan, having seen such perfection, he’s forever ruined. There nowhere you can go from there but down. Like Moses, George R.R. Martin can’t cross the River Jordan.

In most cases, no one would care: most such self-indulgent writers are rejected by readers and audiences. But even lost in the infinite world of his own making, Martin is still a masterful writer (with a massive HBO-funded publicity campaign to boot!).

In short, a shitty, lost-in-the-weeds George R. R. Martin novel is still a lot more interesting than most of what I read these days.

(Oh, and the usual caveats apply: it feels stupid to critique a writer who is, I have no doubt, a far better writer than I. But hey, the whole point of a book is for it to be judged by its readers. I have as much as right to my opinion of Martin’s latest books as anyone!)

Here are some of the books I’ve read lately that I’ve really liked:

The Bleeding Season by Greg F. Gifune (horror): I’m a fan of horror, but I’m pretty picky about what I like (as I am with all genres). So I was thrilled to find this very disturbing gem, a “classic” of sorts, recently re-published (and now available as a Kindle book for a mere $1.99!). In the story, four childhood friends have become middle-aged losers. One friend kills himself — and leaves behind some very disturbing secrets that cause the other three to question how well they knew their friend (and themselves). I especially liked that this is a book that very convincingly deals with the issue of “class.” I was a little disappointed by the ending (which is of the “there are many things we can’t understand!” variety), but the “horror” imagery is some of the best I’ve ever read.

Under the Skin by Michael Faber (literary/science fiction): This is the source material of the recent movie of the same name starring Scarlett Johansson. In it, the main character, a women, drives around picking up fit young men on the Scottish countryside. She seems to be looking for a particular “type” of man. But why? It’s not about sex (even if the men think it is). I’m not spoiling things too much to say that she’s not quite “human” — and her plans for these men are incredibly creepy. I’ve been a huge fan of Faber’s since I read and loved The Crimson Petal and the White (2002) but this, his first published novel (from 2000), is an entirely different animal — a book that will (or at least should) forever change the way you look at factory farming, and the way we view other species as objects or “meat” to do with what we will.

Feast of Souls by C.S. Friedman (fantasy): I used to read a lot of fantasy (and, in theory, it’s still my favorite genre). But I’ve read so much derivative, badly-written fantasy over the years that I’m now pretty skeptical when it comes to giving a new writer a chance. But I’m really glad I gave this author one. In Feast of Souls, women can be healers, but only men can be wizards. One girl is determined to change that — but the answers she finds aren’t like anything Harry learned at Hogwarts. A sweeping, epic fantasy — and the start of a trilogy that thankfully doesn’t read like it’s all set-up for the “real” story that’ll come later down the line.

Raiders of the Nile by Stephen Saylor (mystery/ historical): I’m a long-time fan of Stephen Saylor, and his Rosa Sub Roma series of mysteries sent in Ancient Rome, featuring a “detective” known as Gordianus the Finder. The mysteries themselves are usually fine, but what’s always fascinating (to me) are the details of life in Ancient Rome. This particular book isn’t quite as good as the previous “prequel” book, Seven Wonders (wherein Gordianus visits, and solves a mystery at, each of the Seven Wonder of the Ancient world), but it’s still a solid entry in the series. If you haven’t read the others, start with the first book in the series, Roman Blood, and work your way through them all.

I’ve always been a pretty picky movie-goer and reader. Most of what I see and read ultimately disappoints me (even if I usually end up being somewhat entertained along the way).

When I was younger, I used to ask myself, “Why isn’t every movie Raiders of the Lost Ark?” These days, I might also ask myself, “Why isn’t every book The Hunger Games?”

Why isn’t every project … you know … good?

When you see a really good movie, or read a really good book, it looks so effortless, so easy. The pieces are all right there, and all really, really obvious: interesting characters, an engaging plot that doesn’t rely on contrivances, an element of “heart,” moments of humor, a conclusion that’s unexpected yet also somehow inevitable, and an overall “point” that somehow makes the whole story seem worth my time.

So if it’s all so obvious, why don’t more writers just do this? I mean, come on!

Well, having been a writer for more than twenty years now, I think I can answer my question pretty definitively:

BECAUSE IT’S SOOOOOOOOO MUCH HARDER THAN IT LOOKS, YOU F**KING IDIOT!!!

Good movies and books look effortless and easy because they are working. That doesn’t mean they were actually effortless to create.

On the contrary, the more effortless something looks, the more sweat and blood went into it — at least in my own experience.

But don’t take my word for it. Think about the Indiana Jones series. Yes, I think Raiders of the Lost Ark is one of the most satisfying movie experiences of all time. But what followed it in that movies series?

Yup. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, a horrible movie by almost all accounts (one that’s racist and xenophobic to boot!).

Then came Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade — a decent movie (but not nearly as good as Raiders, IMHO). And that was followed by Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull — a contender for the worst movie of all time.

In other words, even talent capable of making Raiders of the Lost Ark in the first place wasn’t ever able to pull it off again.

Or take The Hunger Games series. I thought the first book was pretty much flawless. The second book, Catching Fire, was good too, if not really as good.

And then came Mockingjay, which I thought was a complete dud. It didn’t work for me at all.

Folks, your opinion may differ about this movie or that book, but I think my greater point remains intact: creating stories of truly great craft and value is REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY HARD.

Most of the time, we writers fail — or only partially succeed.

And yet, we carry on anyway. Are we cool or what? Makes you wanna buy us a drink the next time you see us in a bar, doesn’t it? Because, let’s face it: those of us who have learned the cold, hard truth about writing definitely need the alcohol.

The post Why Isn’t Every Movie RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK (and Every Book THE HUNGER GAMES)? appeared first on Brent's Brain.