Buffy the Vampire Slayer Love

I love Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Why BtVS?  Because it has soul.   The emotions are raw and painful.  The entire Buffyverse is a metaphor of demons everyone faces.  Whedon doesn’t sugarcoat life and love.  The characters are real enough to believe that they live on after the final episode of the series.  I think this series has taught me more about life–and accepting life for all it is–than any other TV show.

I used to think BtVS is too painful to watch.   Good times end, friendships change, dark times roll in and devastate all relationships involved.  In the end, the characters live on.  No promises for the future–just the promise of what is.

It’s a terrific depiction of life.

If I could create something half as good or as touching, I’d be happy with it.  This begs the question:  Is it possible to write something powerful and meaningful if you’ve never felt the pain of loss or the pain of change in your life?  Or if you can’t empathize with others’ problems and feelings–no matter how trivial they seem compared against Rwandan genocide?

What Makes a Character?

Actions.  Not thoughts, not personality profiles, or likes and dislikes–actions.  Just like real people, actions make the character.

I am learning, as I write The Spider Witch, that the actions of my beloved main character are tied to my own actions.  I imagine my main character to be feisty, courageous, adventurous, strong, and witty–but I am none of those.  How do I create a character I do not understand?  How do I think like her, so that she may act in a way I would never act?

Maybe acting classes would help here.

Change in Reading and Writing

I am often surprised and unnerved by how quickly life–and futures–change.  This is, I believe, a product of my age.

It was easy for me as a child, to believe that all that is will always be.  I have somehow retained this delusion throughout college.  Futures change, thoughts change, people change–even memories change.

As a reader, I disbelieved that life could change so dramatically so quickly.  Using my favorite book example: How could Harry, Ron, and Hermione drop out of Hogwarts?  Just like that?  It changed the entire dynamic of the series!

Readers are uncomfortable with change.  I have found myself saying the words:  ”I don’t like this book because it isn’t like the rest of the books in the series.”  Or:  ”I don’t like this book because the ending changes everything!”

As a writer, I dread writing change.  Kill a character?  Change the location?  Build the plot?  No way!  Too scary. Better stick with what I know, what I already love.

But change is inevitable.  It may be uncomfortable, but it’s unavoidable.  Avoiding change in writing and reading–as in life–is encouraging a depthless fantasy.  Facing change is courage.

Change is what separates the ordinary from the unique.  It’s what begins an adventure–and ends one too.  It’s why science fiction writers dream of year 3010.  It’s heartbreak and new beginnings in a romance novel.  It’s what lets us believe in characters.  It’s what keeps us uncertain and hopeful as we frantically turn the pages of a good book at midnight.  It’s what keeps writers writing, while we naively tell ourselves that we know the plot and characters by heart when we begin.

Change is ever-present–and plots, characters, environments, relationships, and real people are lifeless without it.  Because change is inevitable in life, it is inevitable in a believable fictional world.

Failure

Earlier this summer, when I thought I might have hit rock bottom, I watched J.K. Rowling’s commencement speech at Harvard.  Her topic?  Failure and imagination.  More exactly, “The fringe benefits of failure.”

With great humor, honesty, and integrity Rowling recalled her close encounter with failure.  And then she said something that has become my motto over the last couple of months:  ”And so rock bottom became the foundation upon which I rebuilt my life.”

I still struggle with the full meaning of her words, but I have come up with several reasons why failure is so significant for creativity in my life:  It is because once I have failed, I have to be creative.  Not just creative–but creative enough.  Creative enough to succeed.  Creative enough to experiment.  Creative enough to pursue creativity in the face of overwhelming odds that your brain creates when you meet Failure.  Creative enough to believe in myself–and find ways to believe in myself when all evidence points to the contrary.  Creative enough to imagine a better tomorrow when I cannot see the end result of my pursuits.

Failure gives me the courage to believe in better.  It’s a lunatic’s wish, when I’m in the middle of it, but it’s a wish nonetheless.

Simplification Hurts Creativity? Not So.

It has always been my goal to downsize, limit my material possessions, and pack light–but I got lost somewhere along the road through college.  I’m a pack rat–and while I may yearn for simplicity, I often dream of acquiring more stuff.  Why?  To expand my creativity, of course.

I want an electronics kit to explore hacking.  I want a woodworking shop–because who doesn’t want to use power drills and make folding tables?  I want a library of creative works to inspire me.  I want paints and a canvas.  I want tools, services, classes, books, etc.

Does simplification clash with creativity?

After thinking about it for a little bit, I realized that it doesn’t.  Why?  I’ll give you three reasons:

1.   I don’t have to own tools in order to use them. Libraries, hackerspaces, art studios, and other creative spaces gives me access to tools that can either be rented or used free of charge.  I don’t need to own my tools, just like I don’t need to own my own exercise equipment or swimming pool.

2.   Simplification clears the mind, inspires the muse. Imagine worked in a cluttered garage.  Some people find this inspirational; I find it uncomfortable.  Clutter blocks creativity.  Simplification clears the mind, encouraging idea flow.

3.   “Simplification” means that I can spend more time and money on what I find valuable rather than what I find meaningless. Let’s say I want a woodworking shop and an electronics kit.  If I use hackerspaces to initially fuel my experimentation and learn that I don’t like working with electronics–but that I still want my own woodworking tools–I can always go back and buy the woodworking tools I want to own.  No need to spend money upfront–but because I didn’t spend on that electronics set, I can now afford the woodworking tools.

Owning tools has clear advantages.  I still believe that owning allows for a degree of freedom that I can’t get by borrowing my tools–but  from now on, I will seriously consider borrowing the tools I want or need.

The Quest for Original Plot

I recently read an article by author Caro Clarke about the story basic:  plot.  Writers usually structure plots to have a beginning, middle, climax, and end.  They also usually develop conflict between two characters or one sets of characters.  Case in point:  Harry vs. Voldemort, Voldemort tries to kill Harry, Harry forgets about Voldemort, Harry remembers–worse, meets (several times)–murderous Voldemort, Harry defeats Voldemort.  Brilliant bestsellers distilled.

Newbie writers often struggle with this concept.  Where is the creativity in such a structure?  Where is the creativity in basic “hero vs. villain” conflict?  As a young writer, I avoided conflict and structure altogether–and ended up with a flat story with characters that simply existed.  (I cannot tell you what the story was about because the story did not exist.)

Characters shouldn’t “simply exist.”  They should breathe.

Basic conflict and structure is life support for your characters.  By all means, play with new structures and new conflicts.  Without experimentation, there is no learning.  But, in the end, remember that writing is not about your personal quest to achieve The Original Plot, it’s about the characters.

Characters in interesting situations are more interesting than original structure and original plot.

Addictive Toys for Creative People: Inkscape

Addictive software toys promote creativity when you’re dead exhausted. A personal example: Inkscape.

I downloaded Inkscape about two weeks ago. Inkscape is an open-source vector graphics program much like Adobe Illustrator. When I first opened Inkscape, I ran through a simple tutorial to get familiar with the tools the software provided. Soon, I was opening the software like I open Twitter on my web browser: Mindlessly.

Addiction to software always begins with mindlessness that snowballs into a full-blown creative playground. (Your muse is best friends with idleness.)

Unfortunately for us, shiny new toys stop looking like shiny new toys after some time. Taking the toy out, playing with the toy, cleaning up after playtime is over–it all begins to look like boring work once the addiction wears down. But that’s okay. I now view that as an opportunity to discover new creative toys–or even rediscover an old one. (Previous toys I’ve been addicted to are GarageBand, GIMP, and Scrivener.)

So, replace your internet addiction with software addiction–and create away.

Last night, after winding down from my 15-hour train journey, I sat and created my new desktop wallpaper using Inkscape.