The year 2016 ends with yet another tragic celebrity death, one that has left the nerd/geek community in mourning: Carrie Fisher, who famously played Princess Leia Organa in the Star Wars saga. In this video, I share some of my memories of Carrie Fisher, most notably when I met her at Indiana Comic-Con 2015.
What are your memories of Carrie Fisher?
Music: “Funeral Pyre for a Jedi” by John Williams
Fonts Courtesy of www.Dafont.com
“Ankle Pickers”
Hosted by Nathan Marchand, Sergio Garza, and Bill Miller
It’s been a few weeks since PlayStation Experience when Marvel vs. Capcom: Infinite was announced, but we decided we had to say something about it! Bill wasn’t able to join us, so this time a very excited Sergio and Nate talk about what features and characters they’d like to see in this next entry in the “Vs.” series.
What about you? What/who do you want in Marvel vs. Capcom: Infinite?
You’ve probably noticed I haven’t been posting videos as often as I used to. There are reasons for that, which this video explains. Don’t worry–I’m not going away completely.
People often use the words “writer” (or “author”) and “storyteller” interchangeably, but I would argue they aren’t always synonyms.
This goes back to a conversation I had with a schoolmate in college about Stephen King. She made the statement that King wasn’t a great writer, but he was a great storyteller. I knew what she meant instinctively. It required a fairly nuanced definition and understanding of these terms.
To put it simply: a writer is someone who is excellent with the stylings and mechanics of language, whereas a storyteller is someone whose tales can compel and interest audiences.
We’ve all at one point or another read (or seen) stories that excelled at one of these areas at the expense of the other. A book/author may have great “purple prose,” as we in the industry like to call it, but the story itself is boring, trite, and /or cliché. In other words, it’s style at the expense of substance. It’s a common complaint with many modern blockbuster films, which often seem more interested in fancy cinematography and eye-popping special effects than in telling a story.
On the other hand, there’ve also been stories that are irresistible page-turners but are either hampered by writers who lack the talent to tell them well or writers who choose to use cheap tricks in telling them. To put it another way, the stories have great ideas that don’t find full expression because the author is either unable or unwilling to have them reach their full potential. To use a film as an example of the former, I’d site 1986’s Highlander, which had a great world and concepts but was hampered by almost borderline schlocky filmmaking. For the latter, I would cite The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown as an example. It was a fast-paced page-turner, but it relied on things like cheap cliffhangers at the end of chapters (i.e. “He opened the door, and…”) in order to keep people reading.
In order to be a truly great author, one must strive to be both a good writer and a good storyteller. This, admittedly, is a difficult thing to achieve, especially when improving each area requires different exercises. Style and mechanics can be developed through education and practice. Reading books like The Elements of Style and studying other authors’ writing styles can help one become a better writer (just make sure you don’t copy other authors to the point you become a watered down version of them, which will get you nowhere). However, becoming a better storyteller is a bit more difficult. It requires learning how to generate ideas and/or looking for new spins on old concepts. This is the sort of stuff editors are looking for when they hear pitches from authors. Perfect grammar and poetic prose will only get them so far; what truly matters to them is, “What is the story?” This, as my schoolmate hinted at, is probably what propelled Stephen King through most of his career. He has an uncanny ability to dream up compelling concepts, most of which involve making everyday objects terrifying.
In the world of speculative fiction franchises, there are often creators who fit into one category or the other. People like Gene Roddenberry, creator of Star Trek, and (more infamously) George Lucas, creator of Star Wars, were incredible world-builders and visionaries, but they weren’t the best writers. They needed to surround themselves with other people to help fill in their gaps. It was when they tried to overstep the bounds of their talent that things would go wrong. That, too, is another way to help yourself as an author: have people around you who can help fill in your blind spots. These usually come in the form of beta/alpha readers and fellow writers. It’s also a great way to build community, and God knows writers need as much community as they can get, what with their penchant for working in solitude.
Am I splitting hairs with this? What do you think is the difference between a writer and a storyteller, if any? Which end of this spectrum are you on? What advice would you give about filling in your gaps as a creator?
This was the closest I could bring myself to photograph my Grandmother in her casket (which is just out of frame). Photo by Nathan Marchand
My Grandmother lay in that open casket like someone sleeping. She was peaceful, serene, even beautiful. It was picturesque, and I had my iPhone out to snap a few photos. But I could not bring myself to step within a few feet of her, even if it’d get me a better photo composition, because I knew the awful truth. What I saw before me wasn’t slumber—it was death. And it repelled me.
Grandma Ruth’s funeral was difficult for all the typical reasons, but also because it reminded me of a truth I’d pondered several times before: death is repulsive. While there are exceptions to this rule (like medical examiners, who’ve become desensitized to it because of their work, or certain weirdos who take perverse pleasure in it), most human beings find death to be a revulsion. It is a great mystery, a tragic loss, an unwanted end. It frightens us. We don’t usually like talking about it because it forces us to grapple with our own mortality. That’s why there are about as many euphemisms for death as there are for sex (which, ironically, involves the creation of life): “the big sleep,” “passed away,” and “bit the dust,” to name a few. We don’t even like to utter the word oftentimes.
Personally, as a Christian, I believe this revulsion is because deep down in every human’s heart, they know death is an intruder. Despite the fact that it appears to be a part of the natural world (or the “circle of life,” as a popular song once said), it was never meant to be part of God’s design. In the Garden of Eden, there was no death. Does that mean Adam and Eve were immortal? The answer to that is beyond my paygrade. Regardless, God warned them that if they ate from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, they would die (Genesis 2:17). I take this to mean there was no death (or at least death as we know it) before then. It was when Adam and Eve succumbed to the wiles of the Serpent in Genesis 3 that death became part of the natural order. It was a corruption of what God created as good.
So, though many human beings deny this, deep down they know it to be true. They can dress it up or joke about it, even say death can be dignified, it doesn’t change the fact that it is unnatural. Perhaps part of why death is feared is because it is an irrefutable sign of God’s existence.
I think this is why, to put it in a storytelling perspective, why many comic book readers both love and hate resurrection stories in the funny books. On one hand, there’s the thrill of seeing a beloved character return (i.e. Superman in the famous ‘90s storyline) because it shows someone defeating death (which is itself an echo of Christian theology [Revelation 1:18]), but on the other, it cheapens death. What’s the point of killing a character if they’ll just be brought back later? It kills (no pun intended) the suspense, and makes their sacrifice hallow. The joke used to be that nobody stays dead in comics except Uncle Ben, Bucky, and Jason Todd. Now only the first third of that statement applies.
Regardless, this, too, is a reflection of this idea: we want there to be meaning in death. It is an inescapable intruder, so we try to find purpose in it, even if that purpose is only to celebrate the life of the deceased or glory in their passing (I’m looking at you, Fidel Castro). That’s one reason why we have funerals: they’re occasions for us to come to grips with how we think and feel about death.
These are but a few of my thoughts. Whole books have been written on the subject. I’m an amateur philosopher at best, so I won’t pretend to have it all figured out. Indeed, I’m still trying to figure out myself. Death is a subject too large for a little blog entry here. However, I do hope I’ve inspired you to think more deeply about the subject, whether it relates to your life or your writing.
What are your thoughts on death? It is repulsive to you? Why do you people are afraid of it?
By now you should know this was coming. Every year I list off the many things I’m thankful for. It is, after all, what Thanksgiving is about, right? It’s not just food, family, and football. Admittedly, this holiday season is a bit more melancholy for me what with the death of my Grandma Ruth, but it is my determination to practice the holiday.
So, with that, here’s my list for 2016.
God the Father
Jesus Christ
The Holy Spirit
My salvation
The Bible
My wonderful family
That I’ll soon be an uncle again
That my Grandma was reunited with Grandpa in heaven and is no longer suffering (though I still miss them)
“Ankle Pickers”
Hosted by Nathan Marchand, Sergio Garza, and Bill Miller
In this episode, we discuss the often obnoxious DLC practices that plague modern gaming, and in several fighting games in particular. While Nathan tries to defend some, Bill and Sergio have choice words for those games.
What are your thoughts on how some developers are handling their DLC?
Ankle Pickers: where if you don’t like what we say, start blocking low!
My grandmother, Ruth Sitton, with her dog, Pebbles.
On Monday, October 31, 2016, my grandmother, Ruth Sitton, died of natural causes at the age of 94. She was my last living grandparent.
A large portion of my childhood was spent at Grandma’s house in Arcola, Indiana, growing up. She and Grandpa Max were my first babysitters. Mom and Dad took me and my siblings there almost every Sunday after church. Whenever a new baby arrived in our family, we went to their house. If any of us wanted a little getaway, we went to their house. Every Halloween we went to Arcola for trick-or-treating. When Christmas Day rolled around, the family always gathered at their house for gifts, food, and fun. When I started college, Grandma, now a widow, gracious let me live in her house and commute to school for the first three semesters I was there.
Ruth, like a typical grandmother, always spoiled her grandkids, especially us, it seemed. We were never allowed to be hungry at her house. She always made sure we ate our meals and was generous with snacks throughout the day (she had an endless supply of Skittles). It was at her house I discovered the joys of video games, cable TV, and the internet, much of which I didn’t have at home. I have fond memories of her driving me into video stores in Fort Wayne, which I would explore looking for new video games and movies to experience.
But it wasn’t just media that made visiting Grandma (and Grandpa) great. She lived by a hill, which was great for sledding. She and Grandpa took me on a special trip to the Oshkosh air show. We went on bike rides throughout Arcola (although that was more of a Grandpa Max thing). She usually had some eccentric animal—whether it was her cats Fluff or Theodore or her Yorkshire Terrier, Pebbles—to keep us entertained.
Grandma Ruth has always been there. Even when she moved to the nursing homes, I had the comfort of knowing she was around. Now, for the first time in my life, I have no grandparents. I’d hoped that, whether in person or not, she’d be around to see me get married. I guess that was always a fool’s hope.
Thank you, Grandma Ruth, for all your generosity, kindness, and hospitality! I miss you so very much, but I know you’re happy in the house you dreamt Grandpa Max built for the two of you in heaven.
For this new Digression, I decided to recite the classic poem “The Raven” by Edger Allan Poe, the grandmaster of horror literature. So, curl up to the fireplace, light some candles, and enjoy this creepy classic.
“Ankle Pickers”
Hosted by Nathan Marchand, Sergio Garza, and Bill Miller
Yes, I’m starting *another* YouTube show. This one will features three outspoken fans talking about fighting games. In this case, it’s me and my buddies Sergio and Bill.
In this somewhat scatterbrained episode, we talk about the nostalgia we have for fighting games and arcades. You’ll hear about some weird, obscure games you may have not heard of.