Show or Tell?

There was a whole mess of time spent in the car this past weekend. So, naturally, conversation eventually focused in on the only question it could: Who is the scariest cartoon Disney villain?

There was a lot of thought given to this, but the general consensus in the vehicle was that The Lion King’s Scar held the title. The reason for this was ultimately very simple – we watched Scar do his evil.

A lot of the other villains were known to be evil. We knew that Cruella de Vil liked to skin puppies, but we never actually saw her skin any puppies. Maleficent called herself the “Mistress of All Evil,” but I’m going to have to take her word on it because the worst we ever saw her do was turn into a big dragon and leave out a spindle that makes one particular girl super sleepy.

Jafar’s fairly sleazy and has the whole mind control thing going. Plus we know he has the authority to put people to death. So, there’s some power there. But all that really plays out on screen is that he likes to manipulate people and really wants the lamp. Gaston’s an entitled goofball who never once indicates that he has the brains to beat Belle or sufficient brawn to take on the Beast.

All of these villains have grandiose evil plans that, if successful, could have made them contenders for being truly scary. But therein lays the rub. They’re not successful. They’re thwarted time and again.

Then there’s Scar. We don’t just hear rumors that he’s not really a nice guy. No, we watch him kill his own brother – a character who we first spend time with and grow to love (because seriously, who doesn’t love Mufasa?). But even that’s not enough. Scar then convinces a little boy that he is responsible for the death, runs the kingdom straight into the ground with his hyena stormtroopers, hits on his dead brother’s wife, and then tries to fight the adult Simba to the death. Sure, he loses in the end, but we get to see him have a bunch of victories first. Each evil moment was played out on our television screens.

The only other Disney contender who really comes close to Scar in my mind, in terms of evil playing out on screen, is The Hunchback of Notre Dame’s Judge Claude Frollo. If you haven’t already, check him out. Dude’s terrifying.

Why are these characters so much scarier than the Maleficents and Jafars? Because we’re not told they’re the villains, we’re shown. And those are the scenes that stick with us after the credits roll.

"Speed Limit Enforced By Aircraft"

My imagination sometimes gets carried away.

When I was almost four, my mother tried to explain to me that a little girl who was coming to visit with us for a few weeks came from a more urban area than we did. She mentioned that the girl was excited to stay with us, because she didn’t have a backyard, so it would be fun for her to get to play in one, particularly one with a pool.

Well, I stopped listening after “doesn’t have a backyard.” Because, for whatever reason, all I could picture in conjunction with this statement was a large house set aways from the sidewalk. There was a concrete path leading up to the front door. And woe was you if you strayed off that path. Because in place of a yard, the house was surrounded by a dark abyss. One wrong step and you’d be falling into a never-ending hole.

It was years before I fully comprehended that “no backyard” did not translate to “endless black hole.” And during that time, I was, needless to say, quite terrified for the sake of that girl.

Well, I found out on my road trip this weekend, that while I may be decades removed from the above incident, my thought process still works the same way.

There are patches of road which sport signage proclaiming, “Speed Limit Enforced By Aircraft.” And every single time we rambled past one of these signs, I would picture new ways that aircraft might enforce the speed limit. Perhaps the moment that your car inched above the speed limit, the aircraft would come out from behind the trees, drop grappling hooks down on your car and lift you off the highway. Or maybe you’d be speeding along and glance in your rearview, only to see a stealth bomber flying behind you with some sirens going. Then there was the thought that these pilots must get really sick of spending their time looking for speeders and, in their annoyance, would just shoot cars off the road if they were going too fast.

Now, you know, it’s always a (very distant) possibility that none of these scenarios would happen. Maybe the signs just mean that violations of the speed limit are monitored by aircraft and you’ll get a ticket later, or something like that. But the word “enforced” implies a more active role on the part of the aircraft, don’t you think?

Anyway, I can’t speak with certainty about any of these possibilities as I kept the car to the speed limit.

And maybe cast an eye toward the sky every now and then.

Roadtrip Soundtrack

Well, it’s time for me to hit the road again. Only for a long weekend this time, though. I don’t think I’ll have to go through the Five Stages of Vacation Withdrawal again. At least I hope not. Day four is a killer.

Roomie and I are embarking on an eleven hour road trip to go visit a friend. Which really means only one thing, it’s showtunes time. It has been said by some that our choice of belting tunes makes car rides with the two of us insufferable, but I’m pretty sure those people just hate fun.

And in the interest of fun, in case you’re stuck in an office today and not barreling down the open road in a car filled with junk food, I figured you should at least have some showtunes. So here are the ten songs during which the Roomie and I are most likely to halt conversation. You know....so we can sing in a manner that could burst both lungs and eardrums.

1. Defying Gravity (Wicked)
 

 

2. Footloose (Footloose)

3. All For The Best (Godspell)

 

4.  I Want to Know What Love Is (Rock of Ages)

5. Walk Through the Fire (Buffy, "Once More With Feeling") 

6. I Dreamed A Dream (Les Mis)
 

7. King of New York (Newsies)
 

 

8. Happily Ever After (Once Upon A Mattress)

9. Cell Block Tango (Chicago)

10. Suddenly Seymour (Little Shop of Horrors)

 

Okay, so technically, number five isn't a showtune in the sense that it's been performed in a staged production. (At least not that I've seen. If you have, pretty please tell me where.) But I think the idea behind it is the same, so it gets to stay on the list.

All right folks, have a great weekend! And for all of you who feel either indifferent or rageful towards showtunes, I hope you spend the day listening to whatever music makes you feel like this:

 

Not-So-Guilty Pleasures: The Lauren Baratz-Logsted Edition

Welcome back to Not-So-Guilty Pleasures! (Just as an FYI, in my head that comes out in a reality show host voice.)

Today's confessions come to us from Lauren Baratz-Logsted. I had the opportunity to hear Lauren give the keynote speech at the 2012 Backspace Conference. Her message that a happy writer is one who takes joy in every step of the process was one of my favorites. But today, we look at some of the other things in life Ms. Baratz-Logsted takes joy in:

My 5 Guilty Pleasures

1) Lime Diet Pepsi. Outside of wine and water, it's the only thing I drink. This becomes a downside on vacations because while I can always find regular diet soda in hotel vending machines, it's never Lime Diet Pepsi.

2) Shipping Wars. I love this reality TV show about truckers taking on loads to ship. OK, really, it's Roy I love. In fact, I think I might have a crush on him. Every time he leans out the window to yell at someone he's just cut off in traffic, "Why, yes, I do own the road," it cracks me up.

3) Sudoku Puzzles. I do them in bed at night before going to sleep to sharpen my mind, such as it is. I buy a particular collection at the grocery store that contains 100 puzzles. A new edition comes out every so often and each edition is numbered. Sometimes, my husband will buy me one to be nice and he'll say, "I hope you don't have this edition already." Sometimes, I already do have it. But like it matters? Like I'm going to start doing them and say, "Oh, shoot, I remember Puzzle #77. I did that one just two weeks ago and it was a bear."

4) ABC Soaps in Depth Magazine. I buy it every two weeks, because the fake captions on the pictures make me laugh and so I can read about my soap, which leads me to...

5) General Hospital. I've been watching on and off since 1979 - 33 years! - and I love that show. I love it so much that when the character in one of my books, THE BRO-MAGNET, is advised to watch GH to attract women, he becomes so obsessed with it that he and his best friend start talking about it all the time. I love GH so much, I mostly don't care what crazy stuff they throw at viewers although I do think it's beyond insane that they had it turn out that Johnny's sister is really his mother. I mean, in real life, the actress is older than him...but only by four years.

Bio:  

Lauren Baratz-Logsted is the author of 26 books for adults, teens and children. You can read more about her work at www.laurenbaratzlogsted.com or follow her on Twitter @LaurenBaratzL 

 

 

Check out Lauren's most recent book, Pursuing the Times, on Amazon!

Giving the Mind Some Breathing Room

Blank pages can be daunting.

I love to write, but there are times where nothing comes out right.

Depending on the day, I may keep my head down and push through, throwing elbows in the faces of distractions. Sure, sometimes the result of this is akin to that of a kid smashing her hands into the keyboard. But letters get on the page. And sometimes, in rare moments of kismet, they form words!

Sometimes, though, I need to amp up the ol’ creative energies before I can take on the great white beast. There are a few tried and true activities that I fall back on when I need to give my brain a little more running room.

1. Art

I’m a big fan of making artsy things on canvases. Sometimes I use them as big scrapbooking pages that get hung on the wall. Other times I try to actually paint something more complicated than the turkey handprints I used to do. Now, I’m not a great painter, but for me that’s kind of the point. It takes a lot of focus for me to make something that’s not macaroni art. So much so that I can’t focus on both the canvas and the story.

2. Movie Game

From time to time, when I need to distract the old brain pan, I ask the Roomie to give me the names of two actors who have never been in a movie together. Once I am so armed, I must connect those two individuals using an ACTOR A was in MOVIE 1 with ACTOR H who was in MOVIE 2 with ACTOR B formula. Depending on the randomness of the main two actors, this can go on for awhile. It’s not necessary that I discover the shortest possible route between the two, just that I manage to connect them without looking anything up or using a movie or actor that I can’t quite remember the name of (No “you know, the guy who looks like that other one, but isn’t, but was in the movie with that girl,” allowed).

3. Casting Call

Roomie and I are musical geeks. As such, we have whiled away many the moments by casting entire productions using our friends. A lot of discussion goes into who is going to play which character. Sometimes we go for the obvious choices, other times we cast against type. Regardless, it always prompts me to think about friends I’ve known for years from a new perspective. And has led to some Voila! moments when I’ve found new ways to view my characters.

Each of these activities forces me to give them the bulk of my attention and energy, but a tiny part of my creative mind always manages to sneak off. She army crawls into the darkness, breathes a sigh of relief, says “Finally. I can’t get anything done while she’s hovering over me,” takes out a large broadsword and starts hacking away at the Gordion knot that is my story. And then when I’m all done with whatever nonsense I’ve been focusing on, she sits back smugly and says, “I fixed your problem. Boomsa.”

So, what do the rest of you do when you need to get out of your mind’s way?

They're Watching Me....

You know that moment in pretty much every suspenseful movie or television show, where the character is in the parking structure and you just know that the bad guy is about to jump out?

Well, I’m not worried about assassins or super-spies rolling out from behind the concrete pillars as I walk to my car. No, the threat to me is much more terrifying, though albeit of a less imposing stature.

The squirrels have escalated their surveillance.

Going into this crusade, I knew that my anti-squirrel message would draw attention from the rodent overlords, but I will admit, I did not think they’d up the battle quite so quickly.

Alas, my naïveté is now gone.

As mentioned in previous missives, when I began communicating this message of resistance, the squirrels quickly set up shop in the tree outside my apartment. They’ve followed my sister to work. And they may or may not have recently deposited one of their fallen comrades into my parents’ chimney. Reports on this atrocity are still coming in.

And now they’ve bunkered down in the parking structure across from my office. When Roomie and I went to lunch yesterday, we found three of them waiting at the entrance. They were positioned strategically, two above, one below.

As we walked by, they did not flinch from our stares. They held their ground, their tiny heads shifting slightly as their cold eyes tracked our movements.

I’m not ashamed to say that I fear the beasts. It would be the height of hubris not to maintain a healthy degree of caution. But this is not to say that I surrendered to their advances.

Nay.

Roomie and I did some reconnoitering and found that they’ve set up their war room in an opening in the parking structure ceiling. We will continue to monitor their actions.

Before closing, I must give you this final warning: The squirrels must have realized that we know their troop categorization because these new surveillance squirrels appear to be a combination of the CSOF and Ninja Squirrels. And their starting them younger. These were no hardened, embittered, old-General squirrels. These were young squirrel babies. Do not, under any circumstances, allow your guard to drop when you see them. They may be rookies, but they are highly skilled, acorn-throwing machines.

Be well.

Fight on.

Character Inspiration

My Roomie is a male gargoyle.

At least on the page.

She’s the inspiration behind a tertiary character in my most recent story. A stone beast with a poor memory and an (only mildly irrational) animosity toward birds.

In real life, Roomie’s very different. She’s a human female with a poor memory and a slight wariness regarding birds.

See? Worlds apart.

When I went to the Backspace conference this past May, I had the opportunity to listen to several talented authors discuss the different ways they come up with characters. I was particularly interested in the conversations regarding how much they drew from the people around them. Some felt they based a lot of character developments on their friends and family. Others tried to avoid this as much as possible.

I’m not solidly on either end of this spectrum.

I don’t think I’ve ever written any character that was entirely modeled after any one person in my life, but I definitely have made choices based on specific traits or relationships of those around me. Roomie and my immediate family are the sounding boards for a lot of my initial character development. I will occasionally ask them all the same question and then see if any of their answers fit with the character I’m working on. Or sometimes I’ll just see a friend or family member react to something and think, That’s perfect for what’s that one character’s going through or That’s exactly how those two characters need to interact.

But there are a couple rules I try to hold myself to.

I take the good stuff from the people around me. The moments that inspire me. The most kick-ass traits and quirks that my loved ones possess. Those make it into my characters. My characters’ negative traits? Those come from me, from news stories, and from whatever happens to be the most frightening to me in the moment I’m writing.

And if I’m mocking someone on the page? Then I must be mocked too. It’s only fair.

Which is why, in the story, I’m a male gargoyle too. His memory’s great and he doesn’t have any issues with birds. But he is clumsy, out of shape, and has a tendency toward the dramatic.

Together, they are snapshots of the Roomie and me at our most buffoonish. The mythical equivalent of “bros.” And make me smile every time I think of them.

 A peek into my creative process.

How about the rest of you writers out there? Do any of your nearest and dearest ever make it on to the page?

King Of New York

I’m always interested to see translations of stories, whether it be from book to screen or stage, or from screen to stage, or stage to screen. Each medium allows for the audience to experience the story in a new way. There are always changes, whether they be in plot, character, or both.

I particularly like to look at story movements between stage and screen. There’s more of a contest for me as to which I’ll prefer (between book and anything else, I almost always choose the book).

Over the years there has been a lot of back and forth between the two mediums and I’ve seen a number of them. But seeing as I just saw Newsies on Broadway a week ago and am a big fan of both versions, I thought I’d compare some of my favorite characters and relationships from each story to see which one truly is (in my eyes) The King of New York.

Characters:

Jack Kelly

-          Our young hero. Both the movie and the play show Jack as both a fighter and a dreamer. He’s a little desperate to get away from a lifestyle that’s weighing on him. In the play they go a little bit more into his different escapes. It’s not just dreams of Santa Fe. He also is an artist. This storyline showcases Jack’s wistfulness much like the storyline involving Davey’s family did in the movie. He takes failures to heart. He’s torn between wanting to do what he believes is right and wanting to ensure a better life for himself. There are small changes here and there from screen to stage, but overall, he’s still the character everyone wants to win. Point: Tied

Katherine Plummer

-          Katherine is a character unique to the play. She takes the place of the movie’s Sarah Jacobs and Bryan Denton. Sarah doesn’t exist in the play, which is okay with me. Not because there was anything wrong with the idea of her, but because she was never really given anything to do. She was primarily there for Jack to love. No idea what she wanted out of life or if she had any goals for herself. Katherine, on the other hand, has a life going on before she meets Jack. She's a young reporter who is trying to get the paper to allow her to cover something more than fluff pieces. Sure, Bryan Denton, the former war correspondent, had greater credibility as the character who was covering the strike, but what personal stake did he really have in it? Mostly he just appeared to want to help the boys out of interest and altruism. Katherine is interested in helping the boys, but she also wants to help herself. If she and Jack fall in love, that’s great. But it’s not the sole reason for her existence. Point: Stage

Spot Conlon

-          Spot Conlon may have been one of my absolute favorite characters of the movie. He was just so damn cool. (Plus, he's kind of what my sister and I picture my dad to be like as a child.) The play focuses on slightly different subplots within the overall story than the movie does. As a result, some subplots from the movie are cut. Spot is discussed more in the play than he appears. Point: Screen

Joseph Pulitzer

-          Like Spot, Pulitzer’s scenes are trimmed down in the play. He still looms large as the antagonist, but the audience just doesn’t spend as much time with him. And while he certainly seems like a jerk, I was always partial to Robert DuVall’s slightly manic portrayal. Of course, that might just be because Roomie and I like to yell, “Go home! Go home to your mothers and your fathers! Go home!” when we’re stuck in traffic. Point: Screen

  

Relationships:

Jack/Davey/Les

-          Davey and Les’s family doesn’t have a great deal of bearing on the play's storyline, other than their father's injury being the reason they've become newsies. No scenes of Jack wistfully watching their relationships. Because of this Jack in the play has less off the clock time with the other two. They come across more as coworkers who like each other and have a common goal, than the brother-like figures they became in the movie. Point: Screen

Jack/Crutchie

-          Here’s where the play gives Jack his “brother.” He and Crutchie are much closer here. Sure, Jack and Crutchie got along in the film. Jack defended him and tried to get him out of the Refuge, but I always felt that Jack would have done as much for any of the Newsies. In the play, Jack and Crutchie have a special bond, with Jack even going so far as to try to talk the other boy into going to Santa Fe with him. It makes Crutchie's eventual stint in the Refuge even sadder. And makes me want to yell "Soak 'em for Crutchie" even more. Point: Stage

Jack/Katherine vs. Jack/Sarah

-          In the movie, Jack was immediately attracted to Sarah and she to him, and it was very sweet. But that’s it. Jack and Katherine’s relationship develops. The audience sees how they challenge and help each other. Ultimately, there’s more to root for. Point: Stage

Choreography:

-          I loved watching all the dancing in the movie, but there’s something kind of incomparable to watching a group of people fly across the stage in unison and knowing that’s it. There are no second take if someone screws up. The show just keeps on going. And again, I must ask, HOW do people go from what looks like a fairly stationary position into a midair flip? As someone who can not even do a cartwheel, it's pure magic to me. Point: Stage

Okay, I could go on like this forever and this is already an obscenely long post. So, I’m calling it.

As of right now, I’m deeming the stage production of Newsies the current King of New York, by a thin margin of four to three.

But, I may have to go see it again. You know….just to make sure.

And maybe to do a little seat dancing.

And the World Will Know....

Everyone’s life has little mysteries, you know? Small events and oversights that never quite make sense when you look at the whole picture. Here’s one of mine: I didn’t see Newsies until eight years after it was released. More than that, I’d never even heard of it until 2000.

It’s totally baffling. An avowed lover of musicals from the first time I saw Wizard of Oz. A big fan of Disney movies. How, in the name of all things good and holy, did this film slip through the cracks?

To be honest, it’s a little embarrassing.

Thankfully, though, this is why I got my parents to give me that little sister I wanted. So, that she could inform me of any possible oversights I was making in life. Sure, it took her a little longer than it should have, but I’ll cut her some slack. She was only four when the movie came out. And she did eventually rectify the problem.

She came to me whilst I was sitting in my parents’ bed (their room had a TV) with some kind of ailment I can’t remember (I do remember that I was watching the season one Buffy episode “The Pack” though, so clearly my memory has its priorities straight). Holding the movie in her hands, she told me that she’d just seen it at a friend’s and immediately borrowed it because she knew I would love it. She threw that bad boy in the VCR and climbed up next to me, risking whatever germs (probably extraterrestrial) that were infecting me.

Those fellas started singing about their days carrying the banner and I thought, You know what? It’s true. This is what has been missing from my life.

In addition to enriching my existence, however, this film led to a continuing battle against my urge to yell, “Soak ‘em for Crutchie!” at inopportune times.*

Last week, thanks to my brother and sister-in-law, the fam got to go see the Newsies flying across the Nederlander stage. I sat next to the sis and we were both beside ourselves excitement wise. Our fourteen and eleven-year-old selves were in rare form. The sis blanked for a second while she was singing “Carrying the Banner” and ended up singing it to the tune of “Gary, Indiana.” Which, in addition to being a great musical nerd moment, actually fit pretty well. Seriously, try it.

Then the show started and it was pretty much magic from start to finish. Some changes from the movie, which worked really well for the show, but more on that tomorrow. Today, suffice it to say, I continue to be baffled and amazed by people who can go from a standing position into an air flip. I mean, how the hell does that happen??

*The biggest obstacle to my stifling this urge is the fact that I don’t want to. Still haven’t figure out how to handle that.

To Be Embarrassed...Or To Not Be Embarrassed...That Is My Question

The Not-So-Guilty Pleasures have returned! After Lauren joined me a couple weeks ago, another brave soul decided to step up to the plate. Author Peter Mackey is here today to share both guilty pleasures and, for the bonus round, guilty displeasures. Enjoy!*



Guilty (dis)Pleasures Exposed!

A short while ago it seemed that I had reached a milestone of sorts. I had pretty much stopped being embarrassed about anything. Such liberation! I had finally reached so complete a state of inner satisfaction that I cared neither jot nor tittle about what other people thought about me.

Then Kelly challenged us with her piece about Not-So-Guilty Pleasures, and zap! The spell was broken. I had been lying to myself. Of COURSE I am still capable of abject embarrassment, especially over things I secretly enjoy. (Just please don’t re-post this. Ha ha.)

1. Dog, the Bounty Hunter. As a writer, the whole concept of reality-TV as a substitute for well-crafted storytelling just grinds sand in my eyes. And this series is among the longest-running examples of that. So, why oh why am I so darn fascinated by the sad, often meth-addicted outcasts who Dog rounds up every week? Or maybe it’s his team – a broadly-drawn comic book with such characters wouldn’t sell a single copy. Yet there they are, famously popular in certain districts, which yes includes my living room.

2. Oooky chocolate desserts. OK, this isn’t a particularly unique G.P. But for me, this is a complex embarrassment with numerous non-parallel vectors.  It lies just south of hypocrisy, just east of shame. It summons masochistic death-wishes bathed in sparkly sunshine with cute little bluebirds flittering around. (Enough with the conflicting metaphors, already?) All through a meal, I’m skipping the carbs, putting chemicals instead of sugar in the iced tea, pushing away the butter dish, and then ordering the quadra-choco-melt-decadence cake. (But I do have them hold the whipped cream and sprinkles.)

3. NASCAR. Hey, you wanna go sit in some bleachers in 95-degree heat for five hours and watch a bunch of juiced-up cars painted with corporate logos drive around in a big circle a couple of hundred times? No, but I’ll sneak a peek on my big screen at home, until the family comes in and I have to feign dignity. (Clearly, I need to seek help.)

 
But wait… Every Yin has its Yang, and frankly I’ve also got Guilty Displeasures – things I’m ashamed to admit I DON’T like. Let’s face it, when you’re mixed into a group of people who are gushing about some Thing that you personally can’t stomach, all you can do is smile and hope they don’t ask your opinion, right? I’m enough of a hermit already without admitting that some primary aspect of popular culture just doesn’t resonate with me. For example:

1. Vampires that aren’t killed by sunlight. I mean, come on, people! This stuff has RULES. You can’t just cast out a century of tradition because you don’t want your novels to be Too Dark. You might as well say Superman’s taking a pill now so he’s not vulnerable around Kryptonite anymore.

2. American Idol and it’s clones. A huge part of this program seems to be about bad singing. This to me is not entertaining. And also about judgement, with truckloads of arbitrary critique. What pleasure can one derive from the failure of others? This does not lift my spirit. But I DO give tons of credit to the producers who could rename a simple Talent Show (We had those in high school. Hello?!) with a title that rings of both of patriotism and pagan worship rituals.
 
And finally my most secret Guilty Displeasure…
 
3. Babies. (I’d better say “most” babies, lest my two young grandsons get their hands on the Internet one day.) If you show me your baby, I will make the appropriate noises, raise my voice an octave, declare it cute, give him or her a little tickle, and congratulate you. This will be acting. Unfortunately for me, I see right through the ruse nature has thrust upon us. What I most likely will be thinking is: “You, sir or madam, are a stronger person than I, to tolerate the fluids and the noise and the disdain this fresh creature will bestow upon you. Show it to me again when it acquires language and self-control, and I will give you my honest opinion.” There is a lot of preprogrammed human behavior around babies. This is good for the species, but generally not for me.

In sum, quoting some crew member of the HMS Pinafore: “I am but a ganglion of irreconcilable antagonisms.”  What fun!

--Peter Mackey
 

Tiny Bio:
Once an executive speech writer, scriptwriter, and multimedia software developer… now a Professor of Digital Arts at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. Still a coder. Still a writer, currently with Dissonance, a science-fictional thriller in search of a publisher.
 
Ranting at http://petermackey.us
Twittering as @memebuster  https://twitter.com/memebuster

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*Oh! And Peter? The whole abstaining from whipped cream and sprinkles on your dessert? Will of steel.