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Writing Wednesday: Using RPG Books

March 13th, 2013

Hey! It’s Writing Wednesday again and today I’m going to talk about RPG books. Books for Roleplaying Games like D&D, which I’ve talked about on the blog before. These books can be amazing tools for writer, especially fantasy writers. While you might be skeptical at first, trust me, these books can be a great source of information and inspiration.

A couple of weeks ago I took part in a Google Hangout with R² Writes. I’ve mentioned her on the blog before. If you haven’t checked out her blog, stop by and take a look at it, she’s really great. Anyway, in the background, I noticed what looked like a Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual on her bookshelf. When I brought it up, she revealed that she owned a few of these books for the purpose of looking through monsters for her own writing. They can be an amazing starting point for inspiration in a person’s writing. I’ve always advocated the use of these books to other writers and when I saw it on her bookshelf, I thought it might be worth doing a blog post on the subject.

The Monster Manual books are great, from any edition, and have some fantastic artwork inside of them. They can also be used for an interesting look at lore, though your mileage will vary with different books and different description. While those books are great, they’re not so different from finding collections of bestiaries and flipping through those. So, while those are useful RPG books, there are some with even more uses.

About twenty years ago a company named White Wolf acquired the rights to the world of Ravenloft created for Dungeons and Dragons. White Wolf proceeded to make quite a few products about Ravenloft, my favorites being the gazetteers. They numbered five in total and each book covered only a couple of regions that make up Ravenloft. For each region they would discuss how much education the average person had, and how much a wealthy person had. They addressed the number of wealthy to the number of poor, the fashion, the languages, and the cultural traditions of the region.

The information you acquired about a town, a region, would most likely be more than you could ever make use of in your Dungeons and Dragons campaign. However, it was there, the information was present. The DM could use or disregard any of it. For writers, this is what we need to achieve with our own novels and our own world building. These book can be wonderful sources because we can look at great world building and see what it involves. We can look at different regions and question ourselves about the different regions in our story. Then, just like with a Dungeons and Dragon campaign, some of the information will be brought into the story, some won’t, but it will all be there if the storyteller needs it. They can be wonderful for inspiration but they can also be a guide for you to look to when you feel your own world is underdeveloped. They can be a blueprint of the things you should know about your own story.

Now it’s your turn! What helps you with inspiration for world building and monsters? What sources do you look at when you feel your own world is underdeveloped?

Story Sunday: The Prestige

March 10th, 2013

Hi, everyone! It’s Story Sunday again and this week I’m talking about The Prestige. This movie is an adaptation of a novel with the same name by Christopher Priest. As with all adaptations, the question arises as to which version was better, but this is one of the few cases where I can’t decide. So, for this Story Sunday, I’m just going to take a little time and look at both versions of the story.

The novel has quite a few things going for it. The two main characters, Borden (Christian Bale) and Anjier (Hugh Jackman), are seen reading journals in the movie. Well, in the novel, the reader is actually reading the journals and that’s how the story is told. Anjier’s account, if I remember correctly, is dated and numbered. Borden’s journal is quite different. Rather than being a daily account of his life, it seems to be written in the future and looks back on his life. The style is amazing and the format is truly a different way of storytelling.

In both cases, you have the theme of obsession. Both magicians throw their lives away in a feud but have different ideas about why the feud is taking place. The audience sees that the obsession can manifest itself in different ways. For Anjier, the implications are personal. For Borden, it’s the people around him who suffer. His wife suffers, his daughter, his brother, everyone else suffers for the sake of the performance. Anjier sells himself, his soul, his humanity, to become better than Borden.

Now, there’s a spoiler ahead for those of you who haven’t seen the movie or read the book. In the movie, Anjier’s machine creates copies of himself. However, they’re true copies, they’re like clones. This leads to the conclusion that he killed himself, or his clone, in each show. The novel is different. The novel produces what seems to be a corpse. The new Anjier appears on a balcony and the old body has to be disposed of. The real difference comes at the end. Borden tampers with the machine during a show and the machine turns off halfway through the teleportation. This leaves a physically sick Anjier, and a wraith Anjier. The wraith can actually never die. He’s an incarnation of obsession that will never leave the family of the world. Both versions have amazing moral and personal implications. I really can’t say which one I prefer, so I’m glad to have experienced both versions.

Now it’s your turn! Which version of the story do you prefer? What do you think of these two men who sacrifice everything for obsession?

Writing Wednesday: Giving Feedback

March 6th, 2013

Hi, everyone! It’s Writing Wednesday here on the blog again! Today I’m talking about critiques, the importance of giving thoughtful feedback, and how to handle the work of others. As always, these are just my thoughts. I know that this subject can turn into a heated debate. I’m not saying my way is the only way, or the best way, it’s just the one that works for me.

Over the years, people have told me that my feedback is often thoughtful and insightful. In truth, I don’t really know that my feedback truly deserves the praise it gets. I tend to say what I think and everything I say is in the interest of making the piece better. To me, it’s always been a simple goal. Recently, someone (let’s call them Vinny Von Varlow) asked me to give them advice about looking at the work of others. The people around Vinny Von Varlow didn’t seem to value, or react well to, the feedback given to them. So Vinny came to me with the hope of sharpening his skills.

This request made me think about what qualifies as good feedback. I needed to think about what I was doing, consciously or unconsciously, that made people respond well to my advice. I also thought about advice I had received in the past, what advice I liked and didn’t like. What made me listen and what made me dismissive.

The first thing to keep in mind is that the person came to you for advice on their story. One of the most common errors I see in workshops comes from a disconnect between the advice giver and the person receiving advice, the writer. The advice giver should always try to remember that they’re helping the writer mold a story. Think of it like clay. The writer has handed you their clay and said, “I’m trying to make a komodo dragon.” The person giving feedback should then proceed to give advice on how to make the clay look more like a komodo dragon. It’s rarely appreciated when the feedback is, “komodo dragons blow, make a duck.”

To give thoughtful feedback, you need to try and see what the writer is going for and help them accomplish it. Pinch the clay here, reshape it there, and say, “if we added some more clay to this spot, it might look better.” Sometimes it’s hard to do this, I know. We start reading someone’s piece and think… there’s so much potential with this idea. Get rid of these characters, add a few over here, and really, the plot should revolve around this person rather than that person. Do all of that and you know what you have? A completely different story. A different story created by someone other than the writer.

There are exceptions to this rule. One time a friend came to me looking to brain storm new ideas and directions for a character. He wanted to make major sweeping changes to the plot arcs and characters. We had a lot of fun with it. However, when someone doesn’t ask you to do that and you take it upon yourself to demand major changes to plot, lore, and characters, it probably won’t be appreciated. In truth, it’s a very simple idea. When you give advice, make sure you’re helping the writer tell the story they want to tell. If you move away from that and begin telling the writer to write the story you want to tell, of the one you want to see them tell, you’ve missed the mark.

Also, in my experience, overwhelmingly negative feedback doesn’t really help anyone. One of my professors would make a checklist for himself. Essentially, it was a checklist of the most important writing elements that need to be present in every story. So I’m talking about things like a coherent structure, developed characters, and so on. When he came to three major issues in a story, he would stop there and focus on those three issues. He would educate the person on how to improve in those areas. He would then mention that there are some other problems, but note that fixing these three large problems needed to come before anything else. This created two feelings, a sense of priority because these things need to be fixed first, and a sense of hope because the story hasn’t been torn apart at every level.

I’ve heard a few arguments about feedback and I don’t mind saying where I stand. Some people believe that writing workshops should be vicious camps where everyone gets torn to shreds and people are forced to tears. Others have told me that they believe students and writers can benefit just as much from only getting positive feedback. I think they’re both extreme. So here’s what I believe. When someone does something write (and they usually do something right), praise it. Tell them it works, tell them it’s good, tell them it’s the strongest part of their writing. When something needs to be improved, point it out. However, don’t just point at it, explain how it can be done better.

This is crucial, don’t just announce that what they’ve done is wrong, tell them how they can do it better. If I point at a character and say, “that character is flat,” why should the writer listen to me? On the other hand, if I say, “this character seems flat. I would like to see more tension and conflict from the relationship she has with her husband. Her kids are driving her crazy but her husband doesn’t help, does this make her think back on the dynamics of her parents and the house she grew up in?” That’s decent, or at least it’s a start. A writer can grab onto that and think about what will make their character better instead of focusing on the negative aspect of the comment.

Vinny Von Varlow had made some of the larger missteps that I mentioned. I’m happy to say that since making some adjustment to his methods, his partners react better to his feedback. This is great for everyone. He feels useful, the working relationship is mended, and his partners will probably spend more time giving him thoughtful feedback in the future. Like I said, this is what works for me. I’ve seen it work for a few other people as well, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only, or best, way.

Now it’s your turn! What does thoughtful feedback mean to you? When you receive feedback, what makes your listen and what makes you dismissive?

Story Sunday: Skyfall

March 3rd, 2013

Hi, everyone! It’s Story Sunday again and this week I’m talking about Skyfall. I saw this movie very recently and it actually inspired me to write a post about prisoners and the balance of power in a scene.

Here’s the risk the film makers took, they broke the usual formula. I like Bond movies, for the most part. However, I’ve never been blown away by a Bond movie. There are good Bond movies, bad Bond movies, but they’re all Bond movies. This one, honestly, didn’t need to be a Bond movie. You could have taken quite a few of the same elements, distanced them from the Bond name, and I don’t think people would have said “oh, this is just like a bond film.” That tactic worked, no question. You had the great elements of Bond mixed with a story that wasn’t made from a pre-packaged Bond recipe.

This movie had a lot of creative action. Sure, it had explosions, but it also had a lot of normal guns. The focus wasn’t on the gadgets, the big bombs, or the special device that will be used at just the right moment. Instead, Bond was on the run with M and they had to get a little creative with some of their weaponry. They had to use their ammo wisely. Essentially, they had to survive and I believed that doing so wasn’t guaranteed.

Just as The Dark Knight feels different from the established superhero standard, Skyfall feels different from the previous Bond films. We didn’t have a Bond girl, though we did have a cut away sex scene. The romance wasn’t quite there, but vulnerability walked through the door, despair followed, and it was truly a struggle for the protagonist to succeed. He was no longer the top agent or the pinnacle of physical fitness and ability. Instead, Bond was the one who persevered, endured, and wouldn’t walk away.

This seems to have turned into a glowing movie review but, in truth, I really liked the movie and can’t say much against it. The plot worked, the pacing was good, the character development felt natural and necessary, and the acting was fantastic. The villain didn’t even have the classic Bond villain feel. Sure, he had theatrical moments, but he was well-written, developed, and carried an interesting reflection of what Bond could potentially become, if he decided to go down a certain path. If you haven’t seen it, check it out. I don’t think you’ll regret it.

Now it’s your turn, what movies “break the formula” of their genre or franchise? Or, if you’ve seen this movie, what did you think of it? Was it what you expected or did it surprise you?

Writing Wednesday: Prisoners and Power

February 27th, 2013

It’s Writing Wednesday again here on the blog and today’s topic is about power. Specifically, I’m talking about power through the caged beast, scenes where one character is locked up, chained, bound, or otherwise detained. In all forms of storytelling, it’s worth taking note of which characters have power in any scene. Sometimes the answer is obvious, other times the answer lies beyond the obvious portrait a storyteller has given the audience.

When a character is being held against their will, it’s always important to note how they’re being detained. Right now, I’ll go ahead and use two examples from Game of Thrones (the show, though I don’t believe the show deviates from the books in this area) where Ned Stark and Jaime Lannister are prisoners. When the audience sees Ned, his eyes are squinted because of torchlight. He’s nearly blind, his voice is hoarse, and he’s incredibly thirsty. Varys comes in to speak with him and gives him water. If Ned is chained in any way, it’s not severe because he can still use his hands to drink. This is simple, Varys has all the power. He has the power to free Ned, give him water, leave him to die, or just speak with the man.

Jaime is a different animal entirely. At first, we see Jamie bound to a pole with his hands behind his back. He smiles, he’s not dying of thirst, and he makes jokes to the people keeping him prisoner. Later, we see a field of prisoners in wooden cages. However, when we see Jamie, he’s bound to another pole within the wooden cage. He smiles and jokes again while his captor tries to assert dominance. It’s even mentioned that his captor can’t leave Jamie at a castle with a trusted ally because they can’t be trusted to hold Jamie. This brings up the question of true loyalty, while showing the power Jamie has, even as a prisoner.

Jaime is an example of the caged beast. The monster that has been captured, but not broken, not controlled or tamed. We’ve seen many examples of this over the years. Recently, the movie Skyfall did a similar thing with its villain. The man was captured and placed within a small room within a larger room. The small room’s walls were clear and guards were able to see his every movement. The small cage was also elevated if I remember correctly, putting the villain on a sort of stage over his captors. We see the same thing with Magneto in the X-Men movies. He’s kept within a clear room of plastic, within a much larger room, and the only way to reach him is to cross a plastic bridge. Such extremes are meant to make the villain feel hopeless, though it rarely works. Such elaborate arrangements are made out of fear, the fear of power, the power of the villain, which is currently on display even in captivity. One can also look at The Silence of the Lambs and note the balance of power between Clarice and Hannibal

Now it’s your turn. How do you display power in your writing? When thinking about this topic, what other examples come to mind?