Author: Kyle A. Massa (Page 20 of 27)

Computer Imagery, Ethics, and Grand Moff Tarkin

January 23, 2017 / Kyle A. Massa

Image from Wikipedia

A while ago, I wrote a story about a future in which all actors are computer generated. In my story, advertisers acquire the rights to the likeness of Marlon Brando, which they subsequently use in an ad for an erectile disfunction pill, thus giving his most famous lines from The Godfather new meaning. For example: “Act like a man!”

I wrote this story thinking that it wouldn’t come true for another few decades, if ever. The funny thing is, it already happened.

If you’ve seen Star Wars: Rogue One, then you know that Grand Moff Tarkin makes an appearance. You also know that he looked a bit off in the film. That’s because Peter Cushing, the actor who pioneered the role in A New Hope, died over two decades ago. The Tarkin of the film is completely computer generated.

This is not the kind of thing Hollywood needs to be doing. Here’s why:

For starters, there was no legitimate reason to recreate this character through CGI (computer-generated imagery). Though he played a somewhat important role in the original Star Wars, it’s not like he was Luke Skywalker. Most casual Star Wars fans wouldn’t know him from Count Dooku.

Why not just recast the role? Any older, gaunt, severe British guy would’ve done the job. In fact, Charles Dance comes to mind as a perfect replacement (the dude who played Tywin Lannister on Game of Thrones). Filmgoers are smart enough to understand that two different actors can play the same role—especially if one of them passed away.

Furthermore, the current technology isn’t even good enough to completely achieve the effect they’re aiming for. The creators of Rogue One tried their damnedest, but human mannerisms are difficult to replicate. We’re all so familiar with human movements that any little deviation makes the whole illusion fall apart.

The Tarkin of Rogue One, for example, looks pretty darn real in still images. But when he walks and especially when he talks, he looks pretty darn artificial. (There’s another CGI cameo at the end that looks even worse, but I won’t spoil it for you.) I mean, come on. K-2SO looked more realistic than this dude.

And another thing: though the Cushing estate signed off on the film, what if Peter Cushing himself had hated it? What if he wouldn’t want to be involved at all? If this film is any indication for the future, studios don’t care. So long as the family agrees to the project (and gets a hefty check for doing so), then it doesn’t really matter what the actor would’ve wanted.

To illustrate, let’s imagine that Studio Whatever is producing their yearly superhero film. They’ve determined that these movies generally skew toward millennials and away from baby boomers. So, in order to increase their viewership among the older age group, they decide to cast Marilyn Monroe in the film.

Now we’ve got a celebrated cultural icon appearing in some stupid DC crossover movie directed by Zac Snyder. And by the way, she wouldn’t even be able to turn the project down, because she’s dead. It would be just as bad as it sounds.

I hope Hollywood considers what they’re doing before they decide to do more. Otherwise, they’re going to put Marlon Brando into an ad for erectile dysfunction. And I don’t think anyone wants to see that.

Cloud Atlas: One of the Best Books I’ve Ever Read

January 16, 2017 / Kyle A. Massa

With one novel, David Mitchell became one of my favorite authors.

But, then again, Cloud Atlas can hardly be considered just one novel. It’s more like six interrelated novellas, five of which are interrupted halfway through. Each has a drastically different setting and style, ranging from a mid-19th century series of journal entries from a South Pacific voyage to an oral account of futuristic, post-apocalyptic Hawaii. Oh, and each character discovers the story of the character from the previous setting in each novella. Also, all but one of the main characters are related, though they are not descendants of one another.

Sound confusing? That’s part of what makes it so awesome.

Cloud Atlas is one of those books where you’ll finish it, put it down, and never stop thinking about it. Mitchell draws parallels across time and space and worlds. He switches from genre to genre like a chameleon changes the color of its skin. And, perhaps best of all, he challenges his readers to piece together an intricate literary puzzle.

Though each narrator has her/his own narrative arc, Cloud Atlas does not have the typical cause-and-effect plot of the average bestseller. I argue that it’s more an exploration of theme and idea than a linear story. The form of the novel reflects these enduring themes, showing that even through changing eras, human nature remains fundamentally constant. It’s tough to get at first, but once you finish the novel, you’ll see it.

Though I absolutely love this novel, some may find certain sections to be less enjoyable than others. I myself find “An Orison of Somni-451” to be rather dry, though a friend of mine likes it very much. That same friend dislikes “The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish.” I, on the other hand, think it’s hilarious. With so many genres in one book, I guess you can’t please everyone…

That said, I think each story is enjoyable because they’ve all been written by the same person. I mean, how many authors out there can say that they combined comedy, drama, suspense, and science-fiction, all in one book?

A work of creative genius. There’s no other way to put it. It’s one of the most innovative, most brilliant, most enjoyable novels I’ve ever read. I highly recommend it.

Rating: 9.5/10

Like this review? I’ve got more where that came from. See them here.

Why Do We Care When Characters Die?

December 12, 2016 / Kyle A. Massa

Why’d you have to take Ned Stark, man?

Did you cry when Bambi’s mom got shot?

It’s okay. You can admit it. Though we know they’re not real, the death of fictional characters evokes real emotion in us. I find that amazing. After all, when fictional character die, we’re essentially mourning the loss of someone who does not, has not, and never will, exist.

The question is: why? Why do we care when a nonexistent character bites the dust?

I don’t claim to know the answer. But I do have some theories.

Here’s the first: we humans can’t help but empathize. When characters feel realistic, when we become invested in them, they become mirrors. We see our own traits reflected back at us, both the good and the bad. We draw parallels between our lives and theirs. So, when one of them dies, we see parts of us dying, too. And nobody likes that.

Here’s another: the more time we spend with characters, the more we become attached to them. Especially in book series, TV series, and film franchises, we watch these characters grow, watch them succeed and fail, watch them change with us. I think this is especially true for something like the Harry Potter series, in which the readers/viewers grow up right alongside the characters. When you’re going through the same experiences with another person at the same time, you’re likely to form a connection with them (even if they’re made up).

My third and most out-there theory: death in fiction reminds us of our own mortality. A popular theory of filmmaking states that we love movies because they solve problems in a matter of hours that are otherwise unsolvable in real life. In The Lord of the Rings, for example, Frodo extinguishes every last shred of evil in the world just by tossing some jewelry into an active volcano. Of course, we know that destroying (or even defining) evil is not that simple. But it’s still satisfying to see it done in fiction.

When characters die, however, it’s a subconscious reminder of the real world. We react so strongly to death in fiction because it reminds us that problems like death can’t be solved, not even in fictional realities.

It’s weird, but as much as they can sometimes upset us, character deaths often shape good fiction. Without people dying left and right, would A Song of Ice and Fire be the compelling series that it is? Definitely not. No matter what the reason, killing beloved characters is an essential part of fiction.

But still. Bambi’s mom was over the line, Disney.

When to Say Goodbye to Your Book

December 5, 2016 / Kyle A. Massa

Manuscript

When we’ve invested time and effort into writing a book, it’s hard to put it on hold. And it’s even harder to shelve it forever. But knowing when to step away is an essential skill. Here’s why.

Think of the first book you ever wrote. My first book was a Lord of the Rings knockoff, only with werewolves, pirates, and minotaurs thrown in. I called it The Realm. (Imaginative title, huh?)

For a few years, I worked on making The Realm the best it could be. I spent hours writing and rewriting chapters, planning prequels and sequels, creating timelines. As a high schooler working on my first official long-form narrative, I convinced myself that The Realm was good. Really good.

But the more I worked on the book, the uglier it got. As I mentioned, it’s a lot like a lot of other fantasy books, right down to the chosen one, the wise old mentor, the shadowy dark lord, and the deranged drug addict in the loin cloth (one of those is a joke).

Maybe if I devoted a ton more time to it, I could salvage The Realm, give it its own identity. But would it be worth all that time?

At some point, I decided the answer to that question was no. So I put the project away and moved on to a new one.

This, I think, is one of the most important and difficult skills to acquire for a writer. Simply deciding when to step away from a project—or even abandon it altogether—is difficult, but necessary.

Truth is, tons of successful writers do this very same thing. They work on many projects that never make it outside their desk drawer, then finally one of them gets published.

Fantasy author Brandon Sanderson, for example, wrote seven unpublished manuscripts before his official first book hit the shelves. Even though the guy’s a good author, I’m willing to bet those first seven just weren’t good enough. Sure, he could’ve tried making them better. Instead, he moved ahead to the next project. Seems like it worked out for him.

Deciding when to say goodbye to your book is a constant cost-benefit analysis. If I put in the time to improve this piece, will it ever be outstanding? Or could I be working on a different piece with greater potential?

It’s a tough decision. But if you choose correctly, it can only help your writing.

3 Tools That Will Improve Your Writing

November 28, 2016 / Kyle A. Massa

Though pretty much everything we write can use a fresh paint job every now and then, we need to stop somewhere. And the better we get at writing, the less time it takes to get to that stopping point.

Fortunately for us, there are tons of tools designed to help us improve. Here are three that I’ve found especially helpful:

Hemingway App

Though I only recently discovered Hemingway App, I’ve used it extensively. In fact, I’m using it to review this blog.

Just copy your writing and paste it into the Hemingway window. The app crawls your piece for complex sentences, adverbs, phrases with simpler alternatives, and even passive voice. As an example, here’s an early draft of this blog:

hemingway-1

The highlights illustrate exactly where your readers might stumble over your writing. The app even recommends more precise words to try in place of complex ones.

And the best part? The Hemingway web app is free.

Trello

As soon as I saw this, I knew I would like Trello…

trello-1

The truth is out there.

Anyway, there’s way more to this app than just good humor. It’s free to create an account and easy to get started.

Once you’ve logged in, start by creating your boards. These might be general topics, projects you’re working on, specific mediums you write in, anything like that. Trello’s cool because it’s so open ended.

trello-2

As you can see, I’ve divided my boards up into different forms of writing. Once you’ve set yours up, click on any board to add your projects.

trello-3

Within my short fiction board, each white card represents a different story. I attach my project files to each card so I can access them at any time. Plus, doing so provides a backup of my work in case my hard drive crashes (please don’t let that happen, universe).

trello-4

The card structure also allows you to track your notes on every project, as I’ve done in the above screenshot. I find it’s the best way to keep my writing organized.

Scrivener

I’ve written about this one before, but I think it’s worth another look. Put simply, Scrivener is the perfect tool for novel writers.

I’ve written manuscripts on Microsoft Word, and though it works, I don’t think it’s the best option. With Word, it’s difficult to get an overview of your piece without scrolling through every page. If I want to change the sequence of the chapters, it’s a real pain to copy and paste thousands of words at a time. And for ancillary stuff like character bios, I have to create new documents in other windows.

In short, Word is fine, but it’s not designed for writing novels.

Scrivener is. It puts everything your novel needs in one place.

scrivener-1

You’ve got your main workspace in the middle and a whole lot of other stuff surrounding it. The folders on the left represent your chapters. You can divide them into smaller sections or group them within different parts. You can also add character bios, setting descriptions, and even web pages with relevant information.

When you’re ready for feedback, you can export your piece into a ton of different file formats, including Word, Pages, .pdf, .mobi, and more. That’s right—Scrivener lets you make e-books with ease. If that doesn’t sound like a big deal to you, ask any indie author what it’s like trying to format an e-book. It’s a pain, and Scrivener makes it easy.

What Tools Do You Use?

Let me know in the comments. There are tons out there and I’m always looking for more!

Why I Use WordPress

November 14, 2016 / Kyle A. Massa

Want to start a blog or a website? If you’re looking for an easy-to-use, free, and customizable platform, I recommend WordPress. Here’s why:

It’s Easy to Use

If I had to code my website, I wouldn’t have a website. Which is a big reason I dig WordPress.

To be fair, there are many other platforms out there that allow you to create websites without coding knowledge. And, to be even more fair, I haven’t used any aside from WordPress. But I’m thrilled with what I’ve gotten out of the ol’ Press.

I set up this WordPress blog way back in 2011, and it was easy. I got started for free, chose a website name and then I was pretty much set. Easy stuff. I didn’t need to do much of anything to start blogging; the interface was (and still is) easy to use. I just wrote up my draft, saved it, and published when ready.

It’s Free

Blogging is essential for many writers. And saving money is essential for pretty much everybody. If you want a blog, you’d better do it on the cheap.

With WordPress, there’s no cost to get started and no charges to keep your blog going. As long as you’ve got “.wordpress.com” in your URL, you don’t need to pay anybody anything. And if you’d like to drop that part of the domain like I have, it’s only 25 bucks a year.

Don’t think I need to say much more about this one. Save your dough for something else.

It’s Customizable

I drive a Honda Element. I’ve been driving it for a few years now and I love it. It’s spacious, reliable, good in the snow, great for transporting objects of all sizes. But it’s also shaped like a shoebox. I love that car, but sometimes I wish I could change the exterior.

WordPress makes it easy to change how your site looks. There are tons of templates to choose from, most of which are free, some of which cost 60 or 70 bucks. You can also add additional pages to your website and open ecommerce platforms. All in all, it’s simple to get your site looking the way you want it to.

If you’re already on WordPress, you probably already know the wonders of using it. If not, I hope I’ve convinced you. Give it a try and see how you like it.

The Power of “What If?”

November 7, 2016 / Kyle A. Massa

Futuristic City

For writers, the future is fascinating.

Whether it’s Le Guin, Bradbury, or any number of other writers, one question has been at the heart of pretty much every story set in the future: “What if?”

When of my favorite “What If?” questions came from my dad: “What if every future film is made on a computer?” He thinks computer images are becoming so sophisticated that soon they’ll be indistinguishable from reality. Meaning it will eventually be far cheaper to draw an actor on a computer than to hire one. At which point, real actors will become obsolete.

I decided to explore this idea in fiction. It took a few drafts and some much needed criticism, but this idea eventually turned into a short story. It’s called “Thespian: A Tale of Tragedy and Redemption in Three Acts.”

This story was a lot of fun to write. It’s about a theater actor who loses his job to a computer. In this story, just as my dad predicted, technology has become so good that real actors have become obsolete. Our protagonist spends the rest of the story trying to get even with technology in general. Spoiler alert: things don’t go quite as planned.

With this piece, I wanted to inject a little satire into the whole dystopian future thing. I enjoy those stories, but I feel that most are a bit too somber. “Thespian” is more lighthearted, a little less concerned with doom and gloom and more interested in poking fun. It’s one of my favorite stories I’ve ever written, and I really enjoyed working on it.

Next time you sit down to write, try coming up with your own answer to “What if?” I think you’ll be impressed with the results.

The Value of Joining a Writing Group

October 5, 2016 / Kyle A. Massa

Moscow’s Sreda Literary Gathering, 1902 – Wikipedia

Just the other day, I finished a first draft of a piece I was working on and thought to myself, This is pretty darn good. I brought that piece to my writing group a week later, and after fifteen minutes of critiquing, I was reminded of this fact:

The first draft is never, ever good enough.

Little reminders like this are why writing groups are so valuable. Writing alone and never sharing anything with anyone works for some people, but if you want to write professionally, that’s not really an option. Somebody’s going to read your work, whether that be family members, beta readers, or your editor. And, as solitary as writing can be, sometimes it’s nice to get some outside input.

The writing group I’m a member of meets in Boulder every two weeks. Though we all write speculative fiction, everyone brings a differing perspective; we’ve got a pharmacist and mother of two, a couple retirees, a computer programmer, a landscaper, a guy who sells fruit in the midwest for four months out of the year so he can write for the other eight.

It’s these unique personalities that make our critique sessions so beneficial. For example, we’ve got one member who can find something to like in every piece and another member who can, without fail, pinpoint exactly what isn’t working.

Having these diverse perspectives in a writing group is key. “I liked it” is great and it makes you feel good, but it doesn’t improve your piece. Likewise, “You need to change everything because I hated it” doesn’t give you much to work with, either. The best writing groups are specific with feedback and judicious with both praise and criticism.

In addition, you’ll find that your fellow writers tend to have unique backgrounds that can help you out. The programmer in our group, for instance, challenged me on a character description in one of my stories: “The man who lived in A-2 looked like he’d just gotten home from work. Probably worked at a software company, from the look of his clothes; white and blue checkered shirt, along with a red tie and black pants.”

That’s a bit of a stereotypical description for someone in the computing field, now that I look at it. At the time I was writing it, however, I thought nothing of it. Good thing the folks in my writing group had my back!

Which brings me to my next point, the fellow writers in your group will see everything in your piece that you didn’t. They’ll see the inconsistencies that you missed, the subplot you forgot to resolve, even that killer theme that you didn’t realize you’ve woven into your narrative. It’s because writers often get too close to their work, to the point that they don’t even see the fine details anymore.

Writing groups can be hard to find, however, especially if you live in a small town. I found my group through Meetup.com, which has a whole category for writers. There’s also Codex—I’ve never used it, but I understand it’s an online community for writers. However, Codex does require that its members meet certain criteria, and it’s a specifically speculative fiction community. If you don’t meet the requirements or aren’t writing in a speculative genre, you might try a similar community like WritersCafe.

Also, Googling “writing groups” works pretty darn well, too.

So get out there, meet some fellow writers, and share your work. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised with the results.

Looking Good

September 19, 2016 / Kyle A. Massa

Bartrum had the distinct feeling that he was changing in a way that he probably shouldn’t be. Still, he wasn’t sure there was much he could do about it.

Bartrum was not the type of person who changed. That didn’t feel like him. That felt like other people, people who were open-minded and who sought out new experiences and who were, in general, interesting. Bartrum did none of those things. And he most certainly wasn’t interesting. And that was what he found most appealing about himself.

But, he had to admit, the way in which he was changing was…odd. Little nubs seemed to be sprouting from his ribcage, sort of like extra nipples, only slimier and more pink. And nipples generally didn’t move on their own, did they? When he pinched them, it hurt.

And another thing: Bartrum’s face seemed to be drooping. Which, in and of itself, wasn’t all that surprising; his face had been drooping for the past five years or so, as faces invariably do when they grow older. But this was a little more dramatic—in fact, when he’d gone into town to buy some eggs that morning, people stopped and stared at him. When he glanced in the mirror in the bathroom in the grocery store he understood why: his chin now ended in a flabby disc somewhere near his belly button. It looked like someone had grabbed hold of the skin and given it a good yank.

Hmm. When had that happened?

Bartrum thought he should probably be concerned, but mostly he chalked it up to old age and went on with his day.

As a general rule, Bartrum was distrustful of doctors, so he didn’t bother going to see one. Instead, he figured he’d take a few more vitamins each day. He thought he’d eat an additional banana with breakfast as well as with dinner, just to make sure he was in tip-top shape.

Old age, he decided, was very mysterious. Sometimes it gives you grey hairs. Sometimes, as in his case, it gives you tentacles. Oh, that was the other thing—the nubs on his chest had been growing. Quite a bit, actually.

And by the by, was Bartrum’s left hand now turning into something strikingly similar to a starfish? Hmm, possibly. He preferred not to dwell on it too much.

Everyone grows older, he thought. And each day, everyone changes, usually in slight ways, but sometimes in leaps and bounds. His changes just represented an Olympic long-jump, so to speak. It made him wonder what the future held. Made him wonder what he’d look like tomorrow.

Bartrum wondered, mostly with impassivity, whether or not he’d even recognize himself. And then he decided to go buy those bananas.

Subconflict, and Lots of It

September 6, 2016 / Kyle A. Massa

Novels are cool, but they’re tough to write.

I’ve been working on manuscript about a rock and roll star who inexplicably rises from the dead. Think Mick Jagger meets Jesus Christ. I think the premise is interesting and I like the characters, but once I really got into it, I found that the story was slowing down. It just wasn’t interesting to me anymore.

I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with my story until some time later, while I was reading Lisey’s Story by Stephen King (all hail his majesty). I got about a hundred pages in and realized the key difference between King’s book and mine: he had tons of subconflict, and I didn’t.

Of course, conflict is one of the cornerstones of story. If people aren’t fighting about something, then you don’t have much of a plot. I don’t think I quite realized just how much conflict you really need to sustain a reader’s interest for three, four, or five hundred pages.

Let’s look at Lisey’s Story for a moment. As you might’ve guessed, it’s a story about Lisey Landon, wife of late author Scott Landon. As I mentioned before, there’s a lot going on in Lisey’s life. She’s still coming to terms with the loss of her husband, while also figuring out what to do with his estate. In addition, her sister Amanda is on suicide watch. Also, a mysterious whacko is after Scott’s supposed lost manuscripts. Oh, and Lisey’s also being stalked by some kind of cosmic monster which only appears in reflective surfaces.

I count five separate conflicts in there. And those are just the most prominent ones.

Managing all this conflict can be pretty tough. On the one hand, once you set up your dominos, you should probably give them a push, right?

But here’s the tricky part: oftentimes, some conflicts should go unanswered. When books resolve all their conflicts neatly, you might feel like everything was a bit too easy.

For example, at the end of Lisey’s Story (spoilers ahead!), Lisey never defeats the monster that plagued her late husband and has now set its sights on her. In fact, by the end of the book, the creature might very well still get her at any time.

That might sound like a loose knot, but it really isn’t. It works because some of the best fiction mirrors life, and in life, there are some conflicts you’re just never going to solve. (Although hopefully if you’re being stalked by a cosmic horror, you can figure that one out.) Plus, I think it’s a mistake to answer all your readers’ questions. Don’t leave them satisfied—leave them wanting more!

When it comes to conflict, the challenge is to balance resolution with open-endedness. I think you’ll like the results.