Category: Navel Gazing

There will be some vague spoilers. Read at your own risk!

io9 asked Is Torchwood Finally Becoming Better Than Doctor Who? I say yes, absolutely.

The writing on this five-part story arc is as tight as anything–anything–I’ve ever seen on TV. I know John Barrowman felt like Torchwood was being “punished” when the number of episodes for Series 3 was slashed from thirteen, but if it resulted in writing like this, then I’m all for it!

I’m still speechless from the whole thing. Yes, I did see some minor, minor plot problems but they were so easy to miss. I had to rewatch and rethink to find them because as a writer, you don’t want to believe something could be so utterly perfect. I never thought I’d hear myself utter these words: The inconsistencies really don’t matter.

And I’m not turned off by the darkness, either. This isn’t Doctor Who after all. The nature of this alien threat is one order of magnitude more disturbing than Daleks wanting to exterminate the human race again. And this isn’t Independence Day or Star Trek where the best parts of humanity shine in an extraterrestrial crisis. This is a story about the darker sides of “civilized” people. About the zone between hypocrisy and pragmatism, and the horror that often dwells there. And the terrible price of trying to take the moral high ground and failing.

This story was as apocalyptic as it could get without nuclear annihilation or zombies. Because it was about the death of souls.

You were warned about spoilers! So, I don’t want to hear it.

I know a lot of fans are upset about Captain Jack’s actions. I’m not big on Christ figures, but I’ve never seen it pulled off this brilliantly (not even Russell T. Davies’s earlier attempt). Jack literally took the sins of the world (well, that of world governments) on himself, paying the price that they would have to pay otherwise.

You know, I’m going to stop for now, because I’m still struck dumb…

Found this in the Reader’s Guide in the back of Karen Joy Fowler’s story collection Black Glass. Can’t remember the last time I read something that made the writer in me want to pump my fist in the air.

I wish I was good enough to be accused of that!

For simplicity’s sake, I’ve been labeling myself a “contemporary fantasy” writer to my local peers, mostly because I’m a little too lazy to explain to someone what “slipstream” or “fabulism” means–hell, I’ve read the essays in Conjunctions 39 and Feeling Very Strange and I’m still not 100% sure what they mean. But I know enough to know these terms are just the closest-size round holes that I can cram my square peg into.***

My stories aren’t Tolkien or Howard, or Heinlein or Clarke. (Not dissing–I’d love to have their careers.) But in following the example of writers who “write the kind of stuff I like to read,” it’s no surprise I find a connection with Fowler’s statement.

***(Inner Editor: “Gee, Freudian slip much?”)
(-Me: “What’s this site called again?”)

I tell you, this is the fucking life… 🙂

At this point, some of you are thinking, “Don’s account must’ve been hacked!” Understandable. I’m usually a cave-dweller. Even moreso when I’m writing. But today’s just too nice, not just because it’s warm and sunny but because this is the first time in a long time that I’m welcoming a summer with open arms.

Once upon a time, a summer day was like any other day. Warmer, sunnier, with a lighter workload at the day job, perhaps, but in general, nothing to write home about. Life to live and things to write. But not this year. The past two semesters of work, school, and writing sort of took its toll, and that’s just with one class a semester! I fell back into habits I thought I left behind when I worked case-management–I’m still recovering, physically and psychically.

Still, I’m not bitching. I’m just saying that for the first time in a long time, I can appreciate having a time when it feels like a significant load has been taken off my shoulders for awhile. It’s like I’ve been running a marathon carrying 30 lbs. in a backpack. But now, the weight’s off, and while I definitely stronger for it, I’m glad I can coast for just a little while.

A couple months ago, on a lark, I agreed to be camera meat in a local student film. That was an experience, in itself. I learned a lot, including the fact that there’s actually a small community of actors in the region who will come out and audition for student film productions. Makes total sense, since since there’s more than one film program in town.

And then I saw myself on the screen! Damn, it was surreal.

I was impressed by the short films I saw. Sure, they were undergrad film projects, and there were some cliches I saw that I half-expected to see going in: Mafia riffs, torture pr0n, taboo subjects, Quentin Tarrantino dialogue, and a little John Woo gun-fu action thrown in. But the creativity level was incredible, all the way around. You could tell, warts and all, that at least a modicum of care was taken (by some more than others, but such is the way of any group of people in creative endeavors) to make each film a good product.