Well, I’ll start with the good things. The movie actually had pretty decent acting, from the two brothers who were betrayed and react differently, to the prince who was framed, to the Priestess-Princess that has her own motives and designs and isn’t just there to be a love interest.

There is also, honestly, a pretty strong plot. Granted, I pretty well every twist as it was foreshadowed, from who the real villain was to what the Prince would have to do to save the day. I even called the heart-wrenching extremes he was pushed to. I also do not feel that the time-travel thing at the end cheapened the story at all. So yeah, plot was perhaps a hair generic, but it delivered one at least being structured and whole.

The first thing that hurt the movie, I think, was the thinly veiled modern commentary, from the invasion of a country looking for weapons that aren’t there to an amoral businessman who is just dodging taxes and takes up a fairly large part of the screen time for his character’s actual worth.

Some of the dialogue betrayed the modern call-forwards much like watching an old episode of Hercules or Xena, and much of the dialogue was extremely contemporary. Which, honestly, was very jarring since the characters were not tongue-in-cheek contemporary themselves. Imagine King Leonidas complaining about work unions or a Fair Tax. Yeah.

But, I think the number one thing that hurts this movie is how pretty it is. Now, I love pretty things. I’m attracted to them like a moth to flame, which is probably why I watched The Golden Compass, Avatar, Clash of the Titans, and Prince of Persia. Yet, all of these have a similar failing, and that is far too strong of a desire to show of what they can do on the big screen with special effects and computer graphics, and not enough of a feeling for telling a story. Several times in this movie, I felt like I was watching someone playing a videogame, either for in-game play or watching cinematics for the game. And that, my friends, is what I feel hurt this movie the most because it was the most jarring.

But, what to do? I mean, this movie is, much like any SpecFic movie, about the world as much as it is about the characters.  We need to feel the epic nature and grand vistas, but is it really worth the amount of screen time that is given to sweeping panoramics of cities or deserts or ruins? After all, aren’t we supposed to be marveling at the beauty of what they can do on the big screen?

Well, here’s an idea for you. If you want to see those kinds of video-game style graphics, play a video game. The movie screen shouldn’t be about showing off the budget they had for special effects. It should be about producing the highest of quality story in two to three hours that a TV show just couldn’t handle on the scope. You want amazing special effects, make them invisible. The audience should not be aware that they are there. I’m not saying you aren’t allowed to have giant sandstorms, towering cities, or over-large scorpions, but don’t dedicate 10 minutes to a fight that features these things.

I want story. I want to see how the characters of this world are reacting to it, not how the world simply is. Show, don’t tell, they say, and that doesn’t mean let me see it on the screen. That isn’t showing. Figure it out, Hollywood. Please. And leave the vapid eyecandy where it belongs, as the backgrounds for fancy video-games (which I will gladly play).

There are instants where it actually isn’t all that bad, but in those cases, it typically isn’t called by this term either.  Things such as random dumb luck, a single coincidence (authors are usually allowed one before they get called on being too convenient), or the laws of physics bending but being explained on the why of it.  But, those aren’t what I’m here to talk about.

No, I’m here to talk about the bad.  About the Terry Goodkind lobotomizing his characters so he can write his “philosophical treatise with fantastical elements” or even Tolkien completely ignoring the Eagles as a means of getting the Ring to Mordor.

The typical worst instance of A.F. is when a character forgets who and what they are and makes a decision that is a really sucky decision for no reason at all.  Sometimes these are supposed to be covered up by “gut feelings” and “hunches”, but really, they are thinly veiled attempts of the author writing themselves out of a corner.  And it usually comes down to a bad effort at plotting.  Either the characters are to smart and need to be occasionally dumbed down for the badies to even pose a threat (such as the characters forgetting things they saw or heard only moments before), or the good guys are just out matched and out gunned and need to have dumb luck or random strokes of Idiot Savant-hood.  Yeah, really kills the story for me.

Slightly less horrible is when a random unrelated event conveniently changes the course of the plot.  A person was thrown off their horse and died (looking at you GRR Martin), or a meteor crashes and kills someone, or the peasants who had been off screen and apparently unreliable did manage to show up and save the day.  It is just about as bad as when a Dungeon Master gets angry at their players and has them all be eaten by a dragon.  Not that I play AD&D or anything . . . nope.  Not me. (really, not me.)

So . . . oh heck.  I don’t even know where I was going with this.  Authorial Fait bad! Fire good!  Plotting and character balancing good!  Random meteors bad!  That is all.

So, what is it that makes so many people hate having their backs to the door.  Most animals don’t seem to mind it.  Every dog and cat I’ve ever owned always eats their food in such a way as to present their butt to as many people as possible, and a goodly number I know seem to prefer to face away from doors (although they still like their backs to walls).

Well, I think the answer is two-fold.  One, it’s nice to be able to just glance up and see who is looking at you.  That is rather mundane.  The other, I think, is a desire to see that path of escape.

And, perhaps, just perhaps, that applied to books too.  Kind of links into that element of mystery thing.  See, not only to we love not knowing exactly how it happened and then getting the big reveal, we also like to think we can see the way out, perhaps even, proverbially, be able to glance up and see the author looking at us from the door.  Or maybe I’m just going out on a massive stretch cause I’ve been watching too much Lost lately.  Expect a post or twenty on that eventually, too.  Until then, keep that back to the wall.

Now, I’m not saying they are “who-dun-it” crime novels.  I’m going down a little deeper in the meaning.  They all have a mystery of some sort, sometimes as simple as “how do I destroy the ring?” to “what is the vast conspiracy in a society full of backstabbing liars?”  The questions are all seemingly simple and yet played with often enough to make you realize they aren’t.  After all, one does not simple walk into Mordor.

(Funny side note.  Crichton’s last name is recognized by my spell check, but Mordor is not.  Silly Microsoft.)

Anyway, the big questions.  The best of plot is the one that draws you in slowly, makes you think all these questions will have neat, simple answers, and then betrays you, tosses the simple plans to the rocks like a wave near shore, and then only with fast thinking and luck does it work out in a way that still is satisfactory and makes sense, but was unknown to you until the last moment despite the author having paraded facts and foreshadowing.  Those stories, where, as one hobbit once said, get so dark that you can’t bear to read on, for how could a happy ending ever come from it.  Those are the ones that stay with you.

So it has been the big thing lately for movies to be reboots or re-imaginings of already existing properties.  Either there are more books-to-movies being made or comics-to-movies or just redoing old movies new, the old phrase “originality is dead” has never seemed more true than at the theater these past couple years.  Why, and is this a good thing?

Well, the why is kind of easy.  As in easy money.  Cheaper and easier to just write a new script and story in an existing world and then spend your budget on actors and fancy SFX than to having something wholly original.  Also, you get the nostalgia crowd, those people who see the movie just because it is Ironman or Batman or Narnia.  I wouldn’t be surprised if this is even residual effects of the Writer’s Strike.  Well, better than feature length reality TV, right?

Now, I’m not going to say money is the sole driver, although in Hollywood, as I understand the dirty backside, it is a majority shareholder.  Some of it can also be the SFX themselves.  Could anyone really see the Ironman movie, or Where the Wild Things Are, or the new Batmans, or . . . or . . . or . . . without all of the nifty computer things we can do nowadays?  Heck, for the longest time, they said Lord of the Rings was unfilmable ever, but I think Peter Jackson did a spiffy job.  Also, I will admit, the new Star Trek was visually appealing, even if the Enterprise looked a little like an over-inflated balloon toy.

There can also be nostalgia on the other end too.  Directors and producers and writers wanting to see things from their youth redone in a fantastic new way.  Not like Sherlock Holmes hasn’t been “redone” on television and the silver screen plenty of times.  So yeah, lots of reasons why.

Now, the bigger question, is this good?  I am going to straight up say that I was not happy with the new Star Trek movie.  It was visually appealing, I admit, and a wonderful action romp.  Star Trek was always the first, not so much the second though.  Yes, there were fights and starship battles, but long extended scenes of combat?  Nope, at least not in bullet time with telescoping katana (that he fences with?  Nah).  The core of what Star Trek was, an optimistic future with altruistic heroes, that was gone.  As someone who watched reruns of the original series as a wee child, got to see the sixth movie in the theater (Undiscovered Country), and watched all of TNG as it aired, yeah, not a fan.

Then I saw the Sherlock Holmes movie.  I am not exactly a big S.H. fan.  I know who he is, I love the concept of the character, but I had never actually read any of the original material.  I adored the new movie.  Both for the action scenes which I fully accept were most likely not part of a Conan Doyle story, and for the plot and portrayal of the characters.  Now, as I understand it, the characters were not all that far off in portrayal as the Star Trek ones were, but there were still substantial changes to the concept of Holmes, and I heard some of the “purist” (much as I am a Trek Purist) declaiming the problems with the movie.  And, as I left, even before I read reviews by people I respect that are fans of the source, I knew that I had just seen “the other side”.  I just got to enjoy Holmes in the way that someone who was not all that familiar with Star Trek was able to enjoy the J.J. Abrams movie.

Yeah, things change, but a reboot is not really a reboot.  You are not trying to tell the exact same story in the exact same universe.  That story has already been told.  Could they have done the S.H. movie without even calling it that?  Just make it a fresh, un-attached to anything following the established S.H. tropes?  Yeah, but then it would have just been called a S.H. knockoff.  Now it is a retelling, a new way to look at characters.  Perhaps, just maybe, these fictional beings of authors’ minds are alive and breathing too.  And, just like people, they both age and change, sometimes look different to different people, and above all else, have their own destiny to fulfill.  I think I’ll enjoy watching reboots a little more from now on.  At least, so long as they don’t just have hideous faux-science about black holes in the middle of planets.  Come on, you can only ask so much of me, right?

So yeah, plot simplicity.  If it doesn’t develop a character in a meaningful way, or in some way progress the plot, you don’t need it.  At least, that is the “rule of thumb.”  Personally, I don’t agree with that as I feel the pacing of the plot is also a valuable tool.  Regardless, when plotting in general, you don’t put in a scene that doesn’t serve a specific purpose.

So, yeah, character’s birthday or family: does it serve a purpose?  Thing is, it can!  And, oh yeah, my entire grouse that the only time we see this is when it’s super plot critical.  Well, yeah, I didn’t say it has to be that critical to still be included.

In general, though, things to think about when plotting and trying to get pacing right.  1) Do you need to have a scene transitioning between to major plot points (travel scene, time passes scene, etc).  2) If you don’t, then only put one in if you absolutely must foreshadow or develop the plot and/or characters for another scene later on.  3) If you do, make sure that it is doing what 2) said to do.  A scene of just relating the facts of travel is painful (I know, I’ve written a few).  Find someway to show how to travel is affecting the people, or switch PoVs completely and show us something important going on somewhere else in the meantime.  Then come back, make a realistic yet still offhand comment about why the travel was not especially meaningful, and, in the immortal words of Monty Python, get on with it!

(BTW, this is more me screaming at myself than anything, so pay no mind if not needed )

So yeah.  Sure there are plenty of books out there that are specifically dedicated to examining the complex interactions between family members through the course of strong events, but those are typically “literary” novels more than genre, and I have to wonder: Why is it that every person who is stepping up to save the day is an only-child orphan?  Aside from the mysticism of it, it’s a bit of an overdone trope in my opinion.

Now granted, I’m kind of guilty of it myself.  In two of my three manuscripts, not a single character’s parents are mentioned, nor siblings.  And I admit, this is a failing.  After all, if Average Joe has a problem, wouldn’t he be likely to consult the old tried-and-true pillars of wisdom that brought him up (provided they aren’t conveniently dead or missing or Darth Vader), or perhaps would he (and pardon the gender-typing, I’m meaning he in the gender-neutral sense) not also perhaps go and speak with a sibling, perhaps one who might even have some foresight into the matter.  And, here’s the kicker, could this supposed hero (or heroine), do this without the book being all about the dynamics of family?  Could it not, perhaps, be a story where these considerations of real-life phenomenon happen without it being a major plot point, but instead it could be just another way to draw a person into caring about the characters, connecting with them on a deeper level?  I mean, I think I’d seriously connect better with a hero who has a brother (such as I do), and interacts with him in a believable but not plot-dominating way that I would an orphan.

And now that I’ve harped on this, I’d better get off and start doing it.  After all, manuscript number 3 has a father, but it is somewhat plot-central.  Bah.  I guess it somewhat defies the Keep It Simple, Stupid (KISS) Law of Everything, and the general “get your money’s worth out of your words” law of writing, but it still bugs me.  Meh!

That’s right, any length.  Even a 1000 word short story needs a minute amount of foreshadowing.  Part of that is because of the two types of foreshadowing (as I’ll break them up).  Intentional and Necessary.  I know that sounds like a kind of crazy division, but hear me out.

Intentional Foreshadowing is where the author is blatantly and knowingly placing clues for the reader to perhaps catch that will set up later story elements.  They aren’t absolutely needed for the plot to progress or for the story to make sense, but they can be nice ways to tie a story back to itself.

Necessary Foreshadowing can be just as cleverly “hidden” as Intentional, but it has to be there for the plot and story to hold together.  Example: if the villain is going to be the long lost brother of the protagonist, you had better set up some clues and hints throughout (if it is supposed to be a big reveal, at least).

Now, there’s a second aspect to foreshadowing that really seals the deal, and that is how heavy-handed or subtle it is.  Now, I’m not going to say a blatant reveal ruins a story.  American Beauty was an amazing movie, even knowing that the main voice of the story was doomed to die, and there is a book called “John Dies at the End” that is doing pretty well, as I understand it.  But, if you are heavy handed in what is coming, then you’d better be able to pull it off in a spectacular and unexpected way.

On the flip side, if you are subtle, laying everything deeply so that a reader might have to reread the novel (or book series!) in order to see all of the hints, well, that’s well and good, but you had better not get tangled in your own foreshadowing.  Place things too deeply, and if what you have set up could suddenly seem to come out of left field.  Clever it might be, but it can really knock a reader out of the world.

So, rule of thumb?  The more “left-field” your foreshadowed event is, the more “blatant” your foreshadowing.  After all, no matter how fantastical the story, a plot needs to be logically progressing, even if the ruleset of that logic is self-contained within the story.  Long as it obeys itself, and it isn’t overly contrived, you should be good.  Oh, and another thing: when foreshadowing, don’t try and be super-sneaky with something that is blatantly obvious elsehow.  Like, if your back cover is going to say “The long lost brother is trying to resurrect the demon so that he can kill it himself,” then don’t make it take 200 pages for the heroes to figure that out while being beat on the head with clue-by-fours.  Yes, I read a book that was done in.  How it got published . . . I am sure it was a friend of a friend and some luck.  Anyway, yes, foreshadow!  You want your readers to “bet” on things that they might be right on, “think” things they have a good chance to be right on but could be wrong on, and “know” things without it being obnoxious.  There, I tied it back to the title ;P

“Purpose is that little flame that lights a fire under your ass”
Princeton, Avenue Q

Purpose in writing is a multiple level idea.  I’ll ramble about the meta-writing later, and right now just focus on character purpose.  Now, I feel like I’m repeating myself, perhaps from back in the stakes post, and perhaps I’ve just rambled to poor people who sit next to me at the bar, I don’t know, but I think it goes without saying that every characters needs a purpose.

Well, I guess that is a lie.  It is more that each and every characters needs a sense of purpose.  I’m sure I’ve said it before (and if not, what’s wrong with me?): every character is the hero of their own story.  Even if they are just a spear carrier, in a fully developed world and story, that character has their own story they are trying to live.  Alas for them, they don’t always know what it is, though.

Fortunately, we the writers have the power to give them that purpose via plot or conception.  Now, some may say this is too much work.  Why should I care when I’m writing if spear carrier Bob has two kids, a wife, and likes nachos.  I’m just going to kill him in two pages anyway! SPLAT!

OK, that was a little extreme, but still, I can see where it can be contrived to try and deduce purpose for every little bit part that walks on the stage.  But, I will argue (just watch me) that the more purpose you know, the easier it is to write.  No, you don’t need to know the wife/kids/cheese thing, but just knowing why that character is there on the stage, even if it’s a “duh” reason, helps.  Why did Bob pick up the spear?  Is he a good carrier?  Did he want to pick it up?  Was he conscripted?  Is he just pulling his 9-5, or is he a die-hard?  Knowing these things really helps me (and I’d imagine a lot of writers) conceptualize the scene and know where it’s going.  So nyah! Learn your purposes.

And, also, consciously thinking about these things makes sure you don’t accidently make a villain or hero that is acting without reason beyond Authorial Fait, and anything to prevent that hideous and show-stopping trait (which I have sadly seen in far too many novels) is worth it, even if it does turn out to be a little more work.  Little effort for great effect, yo.

Well, for one, there is the variety of types of twist endings.  I listed three very broad types above, and you could probably spend hours on TVTropes looking up subsections of them.  Even then, you can only do the “dumb luck stab” or “person you thought was dead comes back to save everyone” or “Ian did it!” type endings so many times.  To the point that the Scary Movie franchise made a sharp point to kind of lampoon said twists.

So, what else?  Well, for one, it has to be a believable twist.  Even if it isn’t “inventive”, you can make up for it by cleverly making the reader agree that it is logical.  Another option is to actually allude to one twist then pull another one instead.  This second option, though, requires the first as a prerequisite, and can make for some cumbersome foreshadowing if you are going to be making two believable options for the twist.

There is another thing I’m noticing, on a more personal level.  If there is one type of twist I like, it’s the bittersweet twist.  I think Brandy is the only short I’ve written thus far that does not have some sort of “aw crap, really?” ending.  Be it the bleak outlook of “A Life to Give”, the morbid homecoming of Zed in Apocabilly, or the corruption and failure of Betran in Seconde, they were all twists that espoused failings in societies, people, or species (yes, glowies are a species).  Further twists I know I will use—or have but not published—are twists on character motivation and nobility.  So, I am fairly limited in what I can use, yet I like to think that I’m still being somewhat original.

I guess it comes down to some “truth in television.”  As the saying goes: man plans, God laughs.  Nothing comes off without a hitch, or when it does, it’s almost a twist unto itself that it didn’t get screwed up somehow.  So, in real life, things have twist endings.  And the best stories, the ones that you just love to tell to buddies at the water cooler or the bar, are the ones where an inventive or original method was used to resolve the issue.

So perhaps to call something a “twist ending” is a bit of a misnomer.  Almost every movie has a “twist” at the end now, and every decent book and TV show too.  People want The Sixth Sense and Firefly and Angels and Demons.  Perhaps the greatest twist now is to not have one.

And you saw that coming, so I guess this post doesn’t have a twist ending.  What a twist.