Harry Potter 6: A Movie Review

Being the impatient hedonist that I am, I simply couldn't wait to see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. My son agreed to brave the hoards and the lines with me, and we caught a 9:30 showing last night in a packed movie theatre.

Overall, I enjoyed the movie. But the experience left me with this nagging sensation that something about it didn't work for me. After sleeping on it, I think I've figured it out.

To avoid spoiling, my review is after the jump. And there will be SPOILERS, so stand warned!

First, the very good about the movie: Rupert Grint, Emma Watson and Daniel Radcliffe. These three actors could not have been more perfectly cast than if J.K. Rowling had been staring at them the entire time she wrote the books. They've all grown so much, both physically and talent-wise. I honestly can't imagine these movies with anyone else playing Ron, Hermione and Harry.

Rupert Grint, especially, stole the show. He provided most of the belly laughs from everyone in the entire theatre. In fact, the best thing about the entire movie was the genuinely amusing moments it contained. By far this is the funniest Harry Potter movie.

Jim Broadbent did an excellent job as Professor Horace Slughorn. He played the part a bit more addled than my interpretation of the character from the book, but it worked all the same.

I have to give major props to Tom Felton. His Draco Malfoy was perhaps the most nuanced and tormented character in the movie. In fact, I'd wager it is fair to say that you almost felt more sympathy for Draco than you did for Harry. His was a boy who was tormented, who had been given a task he neither wanted to do nor felt capable of doing yet understood that not doing meant certain death for both himself and his parents. On a completely superficial level, the wardrobe they gave Draco was fantastic. He looked amazing, even in all of his white-blond evilness.

And once again, Alan Rickman proves why he is one of my favorite actors of all time. Thus far, he's played Snape mostly for laughs. This time, however, he gives the character the perfect amount of ambiguousness. Those in the know - the ones who've read the last book - will see Rickman's portrayal for what it is, the ambivalent feelings warring inside a man who has not quite been able to embrace the dark side completely due to reasons known only to himself and Dumbledore. Those who have no idea Snape's true motives will probably see him as a Bad Guy who pulled one over on Dumbledore, just as Rowling intended for him to appear at this point in the story.

Now, for my particular issue, the thing that is keeping me from raving about this movie as I thought I would.

As you would expect, the movie version of HP 6 is not a 100% faithful recreation of the book it is based on. Just as the previous five movies have diverged from their respective books, some (HP 1 and 2) less so than others (HP 4 and 5). It only makes sense that audiences will never consent to movies that last for 12 hours and thus something has to go, especially any something that might be extraneous to the main plot and/or slow the action down to a crawl or result in long blocks of exposition. This is just the way it is with book-to-movie conversions.

And thus far, I haven't been much bothered by the lost-in-translation aspect of the HP movies. I've been able to enjoy them very much as their own entities. The books are the books. The movies are the movies. They can't and don't substitute one for the other.

Sure, I've questioned how future plot points would be resolved when key elements are cut out in earlier films. For example, I'm baffled how cutting out house elves Kreecher and Dobbie won't come back to haunt screenwriter Steve Kloves come some crucial moments in HP 7. But I have faith that they'll figure out a way to make things work out in the end. And for the most part, I've understood why they've cut the things that they've chosen to cut. I never thought the whole S.P.E.W. storyline was very interesting and surely didn't miss it in the movies.

But for the first time, I felt the cuts and changes TPTB took with the movie version of HP6. And it wasn't even so much what was left out, it was how they handled what was left in.

And here comes the spoilers...

Some of my very favorite scenes in all of the HP series happened in Book 6. Specifically, Harry's relationship with Ginny - I loved the moment when Ron and Harry come across Ginny and Dean making out in a hallway, and Harry finally realizes that he has other-than-brotherly feelings for her. These feelings sneak up on him unawares, but at that moment, they erupt as a fully formed jealousy monster that pretty much smacks him right between the eyes. As a follow up, my other favorite scene is when Harry forgets all about what Ron might think about Harry hooking up with Ginny and kisses her in front of the entire Gryffindor House. It's one of those passionate moments that makes me smile every single time I read it.

So I was really looking forward to these particular scenes in the movie. Except, guess what? Neither scene made it. In fact, Harry's entire "relationship" with Ginny progressed in a completely different way throughout the movie. The Big Passionate Moment fizzled out as a teeny tiny afterthought of a sweet kiss. Harry's kiss with Cho Chang lasted longer and had more build up. I couldn't be more disappointed.

It could be a lack of chemistry between Daniel Radcliffe and Bonnie Wright, as I read in one on-line review. There just aren't any sparks between these two actors, nothing that makes you long for them to be together. And the Harry/Ginny relationship build-up is presented so subtly, the matter isn't helped along at all. Because of lack of screen time in previous movies, Ginny is somewhat of a blank character, coming at you from out of the blue. At least in Book 6 you get an idea of why Harry might all of the sudden be seeing Ginny in a new light.

The other big change in the movie involved the finale. In the book, Harry and Dumbledore return to Hogwarts to find that Death Eaters have made their way onto the grounds and a fierce battle is raging between them and the few remaining members of Dumbledore's Army. Order of the Pheonix fighters arrive and help with the battle. The action is intense, the casualties painful, and the whole thing ends in a big bang with a confrontation between Harry and Snape.

The movie, however, removes the battle entirely. A tiny handful of Death Eaters meets no resistance inside the castle, and even Harry's confrontation with Snape is rather small given what it is that Harry believes Snape has just done - killed his beloved mentor in cold blood.

I'm not sure I understand the reasons for the removal of this final mini-battle. Perhaps it's because some key characters have never been introduce. Specifically, we have yet to meet Bill Weasley, who gets attacked by Fenrir Greyback in the book. (And I still haven't figured out what they will replace Bill and Fleur's wedding with in the HP 7 movies because none of it was a part of HP 6.) Maybe it was a matter of budget, although I hardly believe this.

Maybe it was a fear that a big battle might detract from the impact of Dumbledore's death.

In the end, I walked out of the movie feeling somewhat empty. I enjoyed it, but I was left wanting more. Part of the problem is that I had, literally, just finished listening to HP 6 on audio book after a long car trip, so the details of the book were fresh in my mind and therefore more glaring when they went missing in the movie. Perhaps the key is to maintain a gap between reading the books and watching the films. For HP 7, I'll declare a 6 month moratorium on the books so as to go in without any lingering expectations.

Reading through all of the "professional" reviews, I've found one or two that sum up my overall feelings about the movie. This one is especially spot-on for me. As is this one.

I'd thought to see the movie again, this time with my daughter. I'd figured that I'd love the movie so much I'd be glad for the chance to watch it a second time. Now, I'm not so sure. Maybe seeing it again, knowing that it is not going to be the book put on film, will allow me to enjoy it for what it is, they way that I've always enjoyed the other movies.

What I do know is that I already can't wait until November, 2010, for the first installment of HP 7. Even disappointed, these movies - this story - is still one of the best things around. I'll miss it when it's all over.

Maybe Just a Little Bit More

I check the Entertainment Weekly online site pretty much daily because I'm trashy like that (but I don't read tabloids or People, honest). And this article caught my attention because...okay, because I'm kind of guilty for thinking it.

I admit to wishing that the Harry Potter series - Books 5-7 only - were just a tad bit more sexy.

I'm not talking about graphic, lurid details. Heck, I don't really like erotica all that much and I tend to skim long sex scenes in other romance novels because they can get kind of boring.

But I'm talking about more...romance? More focus on that buzz you get when you fall in love and discover the feelings are returned and things move forward into that very first kiss and it becomes not enough so things start to progress even farther...That feeling, so unique and perfect and elusive, is the one I'm always searching for when I read romance novels, or any book for that matter. It's my particular brand of crack, and I'm hooked on it completely. I'm always hunting a fix. Even in innocent fantasy books aimed at kids.

(Spoiler warning - spoilers after the jump)


One of my favorite scenes in the entire 7 book series is the one in which Harry, without stopping to think, marches up to Ginny Weasley and just smacks one on her. In fact, HP and The Half Blood Prince might be my favorite title in the series because I love the romance aspect of the book. Harry's awakening knowledge that he has other-than-brotherly feelings for Ginny, presented as a monster that lives inside his chest and alternates between growling with jealously over Dean and Ginny's relationship and purring when thinking about a Ginny/Harry pairing.

And while I fully appreciate that J.K. Rowling wrote the HP series for children to read, and that the focus is good versus evil and growing from child to adult, and romance between the characters resides not just in the back seat but in the back of the bus, I have to admit to wishing that this weren't so. I know that these books simply couldn't be written any other way and still appeal to younger kids the way they do (or be considered appropriate for them by their parents). But the grown up in me wishes they were a tad bit more sexy.

That Harry's feelings for Ginny were demonstrated to be more than just a burning desire to hold her hand or a warm cozy feeling when he smells her flowery scent. I'm willing to bet that 99.99999% of all heterosexual teenage boys are burning to do a whole lot more than hold hands and that their noses aren't the only body part that is strongly affected when they catch a whiff of their crush's perfume or shampoo. That monster in Harry's chest? In reality might be more accurately placed a few states southward in his pants region.

J.K. does give a tiny hint of a stab at showing us that Harry might be having some impure thoughts about Ginny.

"There isn't anyone I want to invite," mumbled Harry, who was still trying not to think about Ginny any more than he could help, despite the fact that she kept cropping up in his dreams in ways that made him devoutly thankful that Ron could not perform Legilimency.

But the closest we ever get to a suggestion that Harry and Ginny might have any sort of physical relationship is in a single sentence, is very vague, and could, in fact, be talking about them pouring over the latest issue of Mad Magazine for all the descriptive it contains:

On one such evening, when Ginny had retired to the library, and Harry was sitting beside the window in the common room, supposedly finishing his Herbology homework but in reality reliving a particularly happy hour he had spent down by the lake with Ginny at lunchtime...

For the adult me, this is the romance novel equivalent to shutting the bedroom door. I've invested time and emotion into these characters, and I've thrilled along side of them as they've found love with each other. But now I've been cut off, disallowed from seeing them in love. So not fair.

Oddly enough, this same lack of detail in Ron and Hermione's relationship doesn't bother me. Like Harry and Ginny, we get not much more than a single, spontaneous kiss between Ron and Hermione and a suggestion that maybe they'd been holding hands while sleeping side by side (in separate sleeping bags, of course). You would think given the full 7-book lead up to this particular relationship, the feelings of being cheated by any lack of expressed affection between them would be a huge let down. But it's not. Not in the least.

I chalk up my not caring so much about Ron and Hermione to the fact that my identification as a reader belongs with Harry as the third-person point of view focus of the story. Through all of these books, I've felt Harry's emotions, I've heard Harry's thoughts and watched the world move through Harry's eyes. It's his relationships that I'm most heavily invested in - I'm most disappointed to all of the sudden be cut off from living vicariously through him. Indeed, I've viewed Ron and Hermione's relationship through Harry, and as Harry, I wouldn't really want to watch my two best friends in a heavy makeout session. I'm just pleased to know that they finally realized that they are meant for each other and will now be happily together. No PDAs necessary, thank you very much.

Too, I think the Ron/Hermione pairing was, although a long time coming, inevitable. I was never a Harry/Hermione delusionist shipper. From Book 3, I've always known that Ron and Hermione had feelings for each other even though they both fought valiantly against them. The entire series was a giant display of UST, a slow dance between these two that moved forward so glacially that anything more than a kiss at the end would have thrown the pace out of whack. Their relationship had the feeling of an old time movie when, to quote the magnificent Joss Whedon's lyrics from Buffy's perfect episode "Once More With Feeling", "The curtains close on a kiss, God knows, we can tell the end is near". The main characters flirt and fight their way through two hours of screen time to finally end with a passionate kiss right before the end credits roll. That works for Ron and Hermione. Their happily ever after starts with that kiss, and there's no more story left.

Not so with Harry. Maybe because when he finally acts on his feelings for Ginny, we know there is still an entire book to go. If their kiss doesn't signal the beginning of their HEA, then we need either one of two things to happen - a) more interaction between them to demonstrate the struggles and conflict in their relationship until they reach their HEA or b) them to move on and away from each other, their relationship obviously not the Real Thing.

J.K. made option B work perfectly with Harry and Cho Chang. Harry thought he loved Cho. They experienced some angst getting together. Finally, they kissed. Beginning of their HEA? No. Because Cho wasn't Harry's One True Love. They broke up, Cho receded to the background, and Harry realized that his feelings for her had disappeared. That relationship wasn't the Real Thing. Any disappointment that Harry and Cho only shared one kiss? Not one single drop.

Option A isn't actually an option. Because of what Harry's story is - a story about his triumph over evil and his successful transition into adulthood - the conflicts don't come anywhere close to living in his relationship with Ginny. Other than his fear that his feelings for Ginny could lead to Voldemort using her as bait and thus his breaking up with her to keep her safe(r) - an action that Ginny accepts if not willingly at least only slightly begrudgingly - Harry and Ginny have no conflicts. Voldemort wanting to kill Harry notwithstanding, there is no reason Harry and Ginny can't be together. An entire book of manufactured conflict between Ginny and Harry is beyond stupid. It's a different story completely.

It is true. Harry's story is not a romance, and therefore any focus on his relationship with Ginny is not necessary. It's the dollop of whipped cream on top of the icing on top of the cake. As a series aimed at children, this is only right. Problem comes from the fact that non-children have embraced the series so completely. We got teased, and now we're suffering a slight case of blue balls. Because some of us adults prefer not a dollop of whipped cream with our cake and icing, but a glass of really good wine. Something with a bit of kick in it.

I'm very excited to see the movie and how director David Yates handles the Harry/Ginny romance. I've heard the movie "sexes it up" a bit, but I take this with a giant pile of salt and don't expect much. If they deviate too far from the book, they will be accused of exploiting the material and risk losing hardcore fans. Too, I think the HP movie makers actually care about quality, and they aren't going to risk the integrity of their franchise just to beef up the teen girls demographic. I'm guessing they're hoping that Dan Radcliffe and Rupert Grint provide enough eye candy for that particular crowd, clothing removal not necessary.

Even so, I can see how and why this sexing-up could happen. After the staggering success of Twilight, both books and movie, TPTB in Entertainment Land are finally getting a clue that teen girls (and their moms) are a huge, money-wielding market. And teen girls (and their moms) like to swoon now and then. You want to bring them back again and again? Provide some swoon-worthy moments, à la Robert Pattinson/Kristen Stewart. If that means letting Harry and Ginny get a little action above and beyond what happens in the book, who's to complain?

Where Did I Put That Thing?!

For Christmas, I got as a lovely gift, a Sony PRS-505 E-Reader. It's red and slim and very, very cool. I did have to hunt down an affordable recharging adapter because it only comes with the chord to attach it to the USB port on my computer, which is not adequate for recharging efficiently. But all in all, I'm very pleased with it.

I love that I can carry around many books for my reading pleasure all in an item small enough to slip into my purse. I love the instant gratification of being able to get new releases pretty much the second they come out via the Sony e-store. Too, you can generally get a hardcover release for at least 30% off the cover price and usually more. It's a great way to try out new writers because there are often deals to be found, and I just discovered that buying "bundles" can be a very economical way to pick up several titles in a series for much cheaper than buying the individual books would ever be. That is, assuming you could even find them given that they are older.

I admit I've had some trouble getting used to thinking about my e-reader when it comes to reaching for something to read. I'm surrounded by books, and the smooth, burgundy cover of the reader is not very flashy. It's hard to remember that inside that little metal bit of machinery are all the same words that appear on the hundreds of paper pages of the hundreds of books lining my shelves. You have to adjust to a new mind set when becoming an e-reader person - bigger and heftier doesn't mean better.

In fact, my husband, who gave me the gift, often accuses me of ignoring it. "Do you ever use that thing?" he's asked on more than one occasion. And while I have read three full titles on it, it is true that I still do the bulk of my reading the old fashioned way. Still, it's nice to have the option, and over the course of time, I do think the reader will become indispensable. In fact, I am positive that this will be the case.

Know I how I know this? Because I can't find the damn thing!

I'm actually afraid it's been stolen, although I don't know how this could have happened. I remember charging it and slipping into my purse because I was going someplace and knew I might need something to read. However, I don't remember ever taking it out of my purse - to read or to put someplace else. And now I cannot find it any where. Not in my purse. Not on any shelf or table or normal spot we tuck random items floating about the house. It's just flat out missing.

Except, I can't imagine how and/or why somebody would risk dipping their hands into my purse to snatch my e-reader without taking my wallet or the small leather pouch where I stash all of my cash. It makes no sense that the e-reader would have been taken but nothing else.

So I keep thinking it simply has to be somewhere. I've offered the kids $5 to whomever finds it, but so far I've had no takers. And I'm starting to get sick about this. The thing cost $350! That's a lot of money to just "lose". I can't imagine shelling out the same amount to replace it, but I now have a whole bunch of e-books that can't be read without the e-reader. Yes - I could use my laptop, but I've never read books on it. Talk about the epitome of inconvenient. Actually, I'd have to use my daughter's PC to read e-books because I have a MacBook and the Sony store library software is not Mac compatible yet. Oddly, this whole situation came about after I gleefully purchased a Linda Howard bundle and went hunting for the reader to dump all of my new titles onto. Couldn't find it. So now I can't read any of those cool books that prompted this whole problem.

Anyway, this is a huge frustration and goes to prove that you never miss something so much as when it's gone.

Odd Bits

So, I made this promise to myself that I would finish one of my works in progress by my birthday, which is next month. I made this promise back in February during a particularly feverish bout of writing, when the stuff was just coming out in gobs. It seemed a very doable goal.

And it is still possible. If I don't focus on anything else for the next month, I could do it. I don't have any trips planned. School is out next week, so although the kids will be underfoot, I won't have any volunteer commitments. Other than the occasional baseball game and carpooling gig, my calendar is wide open. I could get up in the morning, handle a few chores and then park my butt in the chair until bedtime, with only a break or two to cook meals.

In other words, no excuses.

**

One of my characters grew up in Manchester, England. I've been struggling to get his voice just right - enough use of slang and difference in speech patterns to capture his accent without going overboard. To this end, I've been listening to daily broadcasts of a local Manchester news channel. Funny how I now have a good handle on the goings-on in that area. It's become kind of like the town next door. I don't know how much it's helped my efforts to make his speech realistic, though.

What I wish is that I could get live streams of radio broadcasts from the UK. Now that they have laws against streaming broadcasts outside of a particular country, you can't tap into local radio stations the way you used to be able to do.

**

One goal I do have for the summer is to make a serious dent in my TBR pile, which has grown embarrassing. I could conceivable spend the entire summer sitting on my deck with a book in my hand. And personally, this is my idea of a perfect summer vacation.

**

I'm starting to get really excited about the upcoming release of Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince on July 15th. This summer, we've gotten into the habit of waiting until the Sunday after a Thursday/Friday release day to go see the big blockbusters. By Sunday evening, the must-see-it-now crowds have gotten their fix, teens don't tend to go to the movies on Sunday evenings, and we don't have to stand in lines or struggle to find seats. But I don't know if I can wait the four extra days to see HPatHBP.

I checked the audio book out of the library for a recent car trip I took with my daughter. She hasn't read the book yet, so I figured this was the way to get her to experience the literary version before the movie version. Unfortunately, the unabridged audio book is 17 CDs long (that's 18 hours). Our car trip was all of 4 hours, round trip. We have another trip coming up that's longer, so maybe I can just renew the audio book an extra few weeks. Meanwhile, I'm listening to it in 5 and 10 minute chunks as I tool around town. At this rate, we'll be done by September.

You Don't Mess With the Romance Posse

This morning, I was sitting at my kitchen table, enjoying my McCafé beverage as I trolled through my internet stops, listening to the local morning show that I've been tuning into for pretty much forever, when the DJs said something that caught my attention full stop.

It seems that Eric and Kathy (of WTMX out of Chicago) have determined it would be a fun lark to have their morning show producer, Swany, read a romance novel and report back his findings. Apparently this bit resulted from a prior discussion on how the romance genre business has been booming of late - sales up some 7%, which is nothing to sneeze at given the current economic crisis.

I didn't catch, exactly, how they went about choosing which book Swany was to read - I sort of got the impression they solicited suggestions from listeners - but Swany is all set to dive into that well-known, highly regarded icon of romantic fiction, "Palaces of Desire." Eric was enthusiastic over the prospect that the cover might feature a little Fabio action. Naturally. What's a trashy novel without a little Fabio man-titty?

What's that you say? You've never heard of this particular book? Well, let me enlighten you. It was written by Karen Alexander and released in January of 1978 by Ballentine Books. And after a good half-hour of Googling, I can assure you that you will find absolutely no more information than I've just shared other than where you might find a used copy at a bargain price.

But, really, what more do you need to know? Even if "Palaces of Desire" is a work of literary wonder on par with Jane Austin's backlist (which I have my doubts given the zero buzz about PoD, anywhere, bespeaking of its longevity as far as quality), the title alone does all but take out a full-page ad in the Chicago Tribune as far as touting romance novels as not much more than Porn for Women. Too, given the publication date of pre-1980, we're probably looking at at least a certain level of bodice ripping and alpha-maleness, not a little bit of purple prose, and maybe a virginal widow if we're oh-so-lucky. Pure Old Skool Romance at its hideous best. Definitely not of the epoch that we romance readers are most proud.

As any self-respecting romance novel reader and pseudo-writer would have done, I allowed my panties to get in a respectable twist. Because without directly stating it, by choosing a book with the title "Palaces of Desire", Eric and Kathy were making fun of romance novels. And it goes to follow that they are indirectly mocking those who read and love romance novels. In promoting this viewpoint on their radio show, they were also affirming to the masses that it is not only understandable to mock the romance genre, it is perfectly acceptable to do so. Without apology, even.

And thinking I should walk the talk, I fired off an e-mail to DJs Eric and Kathy to express how I felt about this. I tried my best to be firm yet intelligent, saddened yet eloquent, discouraged yet hopeful they might be able to see the error of their ways. I suggested that the rest of the morning team read books in other genres, so that the ridicule and mockery might be spread rather than heaped on romance's already sagging shoulders. Too, I offered up the lovely Beyond Heaving Bosoms: A Smart Bitches Guide to Romance Novels as an antidote to their delusions about romance being not much better than poorly written smut read by ignorant fools who just don't know any better. And, finally, I suggested that if they were going to go through with this farce, a least choose a well-written romance novel that has a chance of standing up proud and tall to represent the genre properly.

I guess my e-mail wasn't as diplomatic as I'd hoped. Eric's e-mail response was incredulous. As in:

"You have GOT to be kidding me!"

He went on to say that this idea is all in fun, all in response to the booming sales of romance novels, yada yada yada. Net net, no mocking was being done, you fishwife freak.

At first I felt embarrassed for having come across as a shrew, probably causing Eric to picture me as a frumpy, middle-aged housewife with my cats slinking around my slippered feet as I padded around in my mumu, wondering if the mailman might like to come in for a cuppa and maybe a little something-something. Being once Catholic and always a woman, I instinctively replied to Eric in apology form. Sorry for coming across as harsh and seeming to not get that this was all in fun. No intention to offend, of course.

But I did follow that expression of shame with a request that if they are going to do this, take it seriously. Have Swany read a good romance novel. Have him give his honest opinion, without the filter of snark and ridicule. A reminder that many people listen to this Chicago-based radio show, and that Eric and Kathy could do a service to romance readers by helping us gain respect rather than perpetuate the genre as a joke. In short, use their power for good, not evil.

Know what I did next? I went and tattle-taled. I invoked the Power of the Bitches. My little blog gets very tiny traffic, but the Bitches? They are fierce. I asked them to post a little bit about my experience because I wanted to know if I had done the right thing by taking the Mix to task for this "just for fun" radio bit. Had I maybe overreacted? I hoped that a blog post at Smart Bitches might generate some outraged responses that I could use as balm to my wounded romance-lovin' sensibilities.

And what book should producer Swany be reading? What book represents the very best of the genre, a book that would wipe the smirks off their faces and have them begging for more right after they issued public, on-air apologies to everyone who'd ever been laughed at for reading a romance?

That Queen of All Bitches, Sarah, replied to my cry for support with her own salvo - an e-mail full o' whoop ass sent to Eric himself. I know not what she wrote, nor do I have the effects as of yet. I'm hoping she'll keep me posted.

It's not that I don't want Swany to read a romance. In truth, it would be kind of cool if he took this very seriously and read a well-selected title genuinely chosen because of its quality and not its ability to illicit giggles out of 13 year old boys. I'd love to get his insight. I'd love to have him admit that there's more to a romance novel than man titty and Fabio hair. And I'd love for Eric and Kathy to treat this book with the same respect they'd give to something they'd choose to read for themselves.

I can ignore slights on the genre for the most part. But this time, for some reason, I just couldn't let it go. Maybe it's the prospect of tuning in to the local country station all summer so I can avoid hearing any mention of Swany's progress that pisses me off so much. Or maybe it's imagining all of the commuters sitting in bumper to bumper traffic, smirking self-importantly with each mention of "Palaces of Desire", knowing that they'd never stoop to reading such crap.

Maybe I should check out "Palaces of Desire" from the library and read it myself. Maybe this book is kick-ass. Maybe it'll do the genre proud and Eric will end up with egg on his face when Swany raves about it. I can only hope.

The Demon Prince Vs. Prince Charming

Back in March, I posted an entry about American Idol contestant Adam Lambert. My opinion has not changed. He's still sex on a stick.

The guy I didn't talk about in March was Kris Allen. Not that I hadn't notice him back then. I had. Specifically, I first noticed Kris on Wednesday, February 18th, when he appeared in a dance montage that introduce Group 2 of the AI semi-finals rounds. My thoughts at the time were "Who's that cute guy with the dark hair and brown eyes? I don't recall ever seeing him before." after which time I headed to the AI website to find out more about him. After which time I recall hoping that I liked the way he sang because...well, he was cute.

Not the way Adam is the hot, sexy, Baby's done a bad, bad thing, god-if-only-he-weren't-gay kind of cute. Kris is the guy next door, high school dream boat, meet my parents, god-if-only-he-weren't-married kind of cute. (Okay, he's pretty sexy, too.)

Kris makes you think of playing a round of putt putt, sharing a malted at the soda shop, and then taking a drive to the local Look Out Point for a sweet make-out session in the front seat of his dad's Volvo before your 11:00 curfew.

Adam makes you think of skipping the malted and heading straight into the backseat of his vintage Chevy Impala before even leaving the parking lot of the mini golf place and who the hell cares what time it is.

Kris gets you a corsage and takes you to the prom.

Adam gets you a hotel room after the prom.

Adam is a Demon Prince. Kris is Prince Charming.

Anyway, the reason I didn't talk about Kris back in the day was because he was flying quiet on my radar. I watched for him that second round of semi-finals, and he proved to be a great singer. I had no problems throwing him my handful of votes and was pleasantly surprised that he made it into the Top 13 of this year's American Idol contest. When next I saw him, the season now narrowed to the real contenders, my like of Kris was validated, and so it increased over lo these many weeks with great performance after great performance. And now I'm very proud to know that I've supported this guy all the way to the finish line. No band wagoner, I.

But my point here isn't to toot my own horn or to claim that I saw that diamond in the rough a long time before Simon Cowell pulled out his usual hypocrisy in time to make himself look less like the tool he actually is. Instead, I'm finding the media's reaction to the upcoming Adam/Kris finale next week to be quite an interesting - and somewhat alarming - social commentary.

Today, I found this bit from the Baltimore Sun on-line, and it troubles me. Because in this article is the implicating that the winner of AI this year is going to define America's preference between two social extremes. It's not just Adam versus Kris. It's Acceptance versus Rejection.

If Adam pulls off the win - a great possibility given his consistent string of excellent performances, his unparalleled vocal talent, and the media hype and clear frontrunner status he's held since pretty much Week 2 of the contest - it means that America has apparently embraced what many have decided that Adam personifies: acceptance of non-traditional sexual identities, celebration of those outside the mainstream, and unabashed enjoyment of our own freakish differences, as dark as those may run.

But if Kris wins - also a distinct possibility because America loves nothing so much as an underdog - it somehow means that not only is society NOT ready to accept those same constructs, but in fact longs to return to some idyllic farce of the 1950s when teens danced with a respectable ruler's-width of space between their bodies and gay people stayed in the closets where they belonged.

The issues I have with the Sun's slant are plentiful.

The most glaring problem with this article's assertion is that it places a lot of weight and significance on a fairly superficial decision. People tend to like a musical performer mostly because of the way that person performs music. If the contestant sings in a style they like, and if they can imagine buying a CD full of his music, they might pick up the phone and throw a few votes in that guy's kitty. They aren't really worried so much about committing America to one form of group-think or another if they pick up the phone and vote for one contestant over the other. I hardly think that some 30 million plus AI viewers are commenting on the path they want American culture to follow. They just know that Kris plays the guitar, which is always cool, but Adam sounds just like Robert Plant and Stairway to Heaven is their all time favorite song ever.

Too, I'm sure if anyone asked either Kris or Adam, neither guy would be happy to learn that he'd become the Poster Boy for one particular worldview, a worldview with fairly narrow parameters at that. The two men are very good friends, accepting of each other and the various facets of life they both represents. They don't seem to feel any level of Me versus Him, and I'm certain they wouldn't want the world to use them as banner carriers for the Liberals vs. Conservatives, the Blue States vs. Red States, or even the Stadium Rockers vs. Singer-Songwriters.

Additionally, the Sun's article fails to take into fact that a good number of AI watchers are what you'd call Kradam fans. (Note: I use this term in the "likes both Adam and Kris as singers" context, not the Adam-slash-Kris context that some are wont to do). We like both Adam and Kris. We don't want to choose between them. We accept them both.

Just as Guns & Roses exists on my iPod right after the Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons, I embrace the rights of all consenting adults to love whomever they feel compelled to love even as I also believe that kids should be encouraged to wait as long as possible to become sexually active. I'm super cool with men who wear guyliner (especially if it makes them look like this), but I cringe when confronted with facial piercings. I think people who aren't in the military and drive Hummers should be forced to pay a 200% gas guzzler tax but I think kids should be able to form voluntary prayer groups in public schools as long as they meet outside of school hours and all religions are allowed equal opportunity. I'm a virtual bag o' contrasts.

And next week, I probably won't vote for either Adam or Kris because I like them both so darned much, I can't bear to choose. I appreciate Adam's unbelievable talent, but I sometimes wince when he sings especially screechy scream-rock songs. Kris's ability to arrange songs I didn't think I liked in ways that make me spend money because it's now must-have music ("Heartless" anyone?) is mind-blowing to my musically challenged brain, yet John Mayer types are a dime a dozen on radio stations these days. Both have things I love and things I don't love so much. And in the end, I want both my Demon Prince and my Prince Charming.

My point being, crowning Adam over Kris does not mean that we've advanced as a civilization such that prejudice and oppression are no longer problems we need to address. Nor does a Kris over Adam victory set us back decades as far as acceptance of non-normative life styles.

Voting for one of these guys just means that either Adam or Kris gave some kick-ass performances and that a majority of AI viewers like one style of music a little bit more than another.

I'm just happy I get to watch these guys for another week.

Affected

So, my daughter has this thing where she dots her i's with little open circles that look like the ones in the Disney logo. She also makes the dots at the bottom of her exclamation points the same way. She thinks it's cool to do this because she's of that age when it is cool to others of her age to do such things.

I told her dotting her i's with circles is affected. She asked me what affected means. I explained.

Dictionary.com lists the following entry for affected:
-adjective: assumed artificially; unnatural; feigned

Oxford American Dictionary offers up the following definition for affected: -adjective: pretentious, or designed to impress

Last night, I finished reading the latest installment of J.R. Ward's Black Dagger Brotherhood series, Lover Avenged. And the one word that ran through my mind the entire time I was reading was, you guessed it, affected.

Because as vivid and complex of a world that Ward has created, as compelling as her alpha heroes may be, as intricate of plots she manages to weave, Ward's style of writing is so unbelievably affected that it yanks me out of the story time and time again. It's all that comes to mind when I think of her books. I no longer can lose myself into the story because I've reached the point where I'm actively looking for examples, and I squeal in glee when they pop up every few paragraphs. It's almost a game to me.

For those not in the know, Ward's heroes are these massive, preternaturally strong, virile, uber-male vampire warriors. Macho he-men killers who don't know the meaning of the term refractory period. They bond with their heroines so completely they even carve the gal's name across their back to create permanent scars, proving their devotion and complete loyalty. They can kill you with a mere look, don't so much as wince when they are dealt near-mortal wounds, and wear leather the way most of us wear cotton.

These heroes also say and/or think things like:

"You just say the word, 'kay?"

When the waitress brought freshies, John glanced over at the redhead...

"I'm outtie then."

He made her shift her weight onto one foot so he could pop off her stillie and shuck her Sevens free...

Okay. I'm sorry, but what heterosexual male not involved in the fashion industry in some aspect or another would ever - EVER - use the word stillie? Heck, how many men even know what that word is slang for? Ask any random man to name the correct term for a stilleto and 99 times out of a 100 the answer would probably be "those spikey heel shoes".

And what person over the age of 13, of either sex, would seriously say "I'm outtie?"

The reason I find Ward affected is because she seems to think that shortening words and adding "ie" to the ends of them (freshies? outie? stillie? and there are so many, many more examples I'm too lazy to go back and find) as part of her characters' verbal and mental vocabulary gives them dimension. By using this form of tween slang, they aren't cardboard cutout alpha males but well-rounded, sensitive sorts who are in touch with their inner kid.

It's the writer equivalent of dotting her i's with open little circles in order to make her characters unique and deep.

Really, though, it creates a complete mental dissonance when reading the story that causes me to come full stop in the middle of sentence. I'm supposed to believe these guys are stone cold killers who inspire fear in everyone they encounter when they're telling each other to just chill, 'kay?

It doesn't make these guys metrosexual chic. It doesn't make them in touch with their feminine, sensitive sides. It doesn't even make them guys with a surprising knowledge of women's fashion and incredible good taste. It makes them little girls. And little girls aren't really that scary.

Writing natural-sounding dialogue is very hard. And slang is a most useful tool in accomplishing this elusive goal. But come on. Stillie? Really?

I admit that Ward's books are like crack as far as addictiveness goes, so for that I give her mad props (something her guys would say). As much as I want to walk away, somehow I just can't. And this is shameful given how many other issues I have with her writing style (don't get me started on the label-dropping). But it's this authorial tic that is like to drive me away completely.

I mean it. If she keeps doing it, I am so outtie.

There's a Reason It's Hard to Change Your Name

For me, naming characters is a big deal. Maybe not as big of a deal as naming my kids, but it really can help or hinder my writing process. The perfect name is key for me to capture the true essence of a character. And I just know - KNOW - when I haven't quite gotten it right. It's a nag in the back of my brain that just won't be quiet no matter how hard I try to ignore it.

But there is nothing worse than going forward and doing a lot of work (as in, a ton!) and then realizing that you got the name of a key character wrong. You thought you'd finally settled on something. It worked okay. Didn't love it, but you could live with it.

And then you hear the right name. The One. The name that has just that certain je ne sais quoi that screams "This is who he is!" It's perfect. So perfect that now the old name will. not. work. At all. It sucks. Why did you ever think it was acceptable?

Which, for me, is tragic. Because now I have to go back through every piece of work I've done and change the name. Sure, I could do the old Find/Replace dance. But I'm the type of writer who does all kinds of planning in Word documents and on spreadsheets and an entire Curio project board. I'm talking some hard core hunting in not only story text but in all of the backup documentation I rely on to keep me sane.

God help me if the new name renders another character's name problematic. Which...gads, I think I'm facing. I have a headache.

The Too Good To Be True Bad Boy

It's a good bit of writer's advice to give your heroes and heroines flaws. They can't be too perfect or everyone will hate them, and for good reason. I've read many-a-story wherein the heroine is too good to be true. And these are books I never reread.

Giving a hero flaws is one thing. But what do you do when you need to create an anti-hero? A person who is, on first meeting, someone you really don't like all that much? Someone who's behaviour you find offensive or wrong or annoying, but through the course of the story, you realize is actually a pretty cool person who deserves the hero designation?

What kind of flaws can you give this person that are enough to evoke that initial negative response but that aren't so bad that he or she is irredeemable?

This is where I'm at right now.

I have a hero who is not necessarily a good guy upon initial meeting. He's uncommunicative and hardened and a petty criminal. He puts people off, both intentionally and without trying. He's a jerk to the heroine and to those who would try to befriend him. Basically, he's a Bad Boy with an attitude.

But as the story progresses, you learn that he's actually quite noble. When the chips are down, he's there even though he's vowed all along that he wouldn't be there. And the heroine inspires in him a love that he never knew he was capable of feeling. He's a true hero with a heart of gold, albeit one with a very rusty exterior.

Except, I have no idea how to portray the bad boy side of him because whenever I think of an action I find anti-heroic, I can't bear to have him perform it. When I think of things that make someone not a hero, I think of liars and cheaters and people only out for themselves. I think of kicking puppies and sleazy pick up lines, and anyone who drinks and drives. I think of people who throw their cigarette butts out the car window, line jumpers, and scam artists who would take advantage of those who can't defend themselves. I think of bullies and mean girls and corrupt politicians. Stuff that makes me disgusted, stuff that if I learned a real person did, would probably put me off him or her forever despite any positive qualities he/she might have.

I don't want my guy to do any of these things. I honestly don't even know that he would. Every single time I come up with an un-heroic act, I immediately shake my head and think "he would never do that!" My guy is refusing to be bad. He's refusing to act the way he needs to act to be the character he is.

This is all so weird because I know this guy. I know that he's hard and uncommunicative and stand-offish. He hates whiners and has a mean, quick temper. He doesn't take lip and he resists authority on principle. He chases girls strictly for the pleasure he can get, doesn't think that unconditional love exists, and has no interest in helping someone just because he can.

And I have no idea how to show any of this. I'm at a complete loss.

He does smoke. And he would toss his cigarette butt out the window without thinking twice.

Oooo. He's eeevil!

Stage Director In a Previous Life

I must have been a stage director in a previous life.

My characters spend more time turning around, going to or from one spot to the next, and just generally moving through the scene. And I'm not talking cool action moving. I'm talking ho hum, who cares moving.

She went to the sink and started washing dishes.

He turned around and picked up the socket wrench.

They came in from the living room and sat down for dinner.

Clearly, I need to work on setting. That's the only thing I can think of that explains why I seem to have a constant need to position my characters in a scene like they're poseable action figures.

I'll catch it all in the revise. Because I never seem to notice it so much as when I'm rereading.

Argh!

Accidental Copy Catting

I possess the trait I think many writers out there have wherein the ideas that inspire me enough to actually sit down and put something on paper come from the ether. Maybe a scenario or experience will spark an idea - the other day I saw two surveyors measuring and marking the street for some thing or another and thought that this might be an interesting profession to explore for a female in a male-dominated industry - and things blossom off of that original seed.

But for the most part, I get an idea from either a particular character that comes to mind fully-formed, or because there is some emotion or relationship or scenario that I want to explore. Sometimes it's a plot - what would happen if this happened or that - that inspires me. But usually my inspiration is character driven.

Rarely, I'll read a story and like the general premise but think I would have done it differently. When this kind of story inspiration strikes, I tend to ignore it other than running a few scenes through my head when I'm sitting in traffic. I worry too much about copying someone else to ever go down that road.

Which is why I'm kind of freaked right now. I've been working for quite a while on a particular story, and I'm fully in love with the characters. I've plotted things out, written many many words, and it's been the one idea that I've consistently turned to when other ideas claw their way upward vying for attention. I'm determined to finish this.

Except, in the past two days I've come across both a book series and a TV show (not based on the book - completely different) that contain elements that are uncomfortably close to my grand opus. I have neither read the book series in question nor ever watched an episode of the TV program. I swear on a stack of bibles a yard high that it is 100% coincidence that my ideas run so close to what has already been produced.

But, damn! How did this happen? How did I come up with the same thoughts as those who took it further and produced something with those ideas? Am I really that completely unoriginal? Are my "pulled from the ether" ideas really that cliché? Am I being subconsciously influenced even by pop culture that I've never directly encountered?

To say I'm discouraged is an understatement. I know that there really is no such thing as a new idea. It has all been done before. And I fully buy into the rhetoric that it's not the idea that makes something worthwhile but rather how you put your own, unique spin on it that counts. Two people can turn out completely different results when given the same basic ingredients. If this weren't the case, humankind would have long ago stopped bothering to write, paint, sing, dance or otherwise express themselves creatively because, hey, been there, seen that.

I guess I'm faced with the question of where the line is between "same basic premise, unique execution" and "same basic premise, very similar execution". How many details must be the same for it to skirt way too close to copying for comfort? And if a writer honestly - honestly - was not in any way influenced by the original by virtue of honestly - HONESTLY - not even knowing what the original was about, is it okay to stay the course?

I refuse to give up on my work. First, I've put too much time and energy into it to abandon it. Secondly, I really do love my characters. The idea of not telling their stories simply because they sounds eerily like someone else's story (either in basic structure or because of a few similar details) makes me slightly nauseated. In the end, if my eyes are the only ones that ever bear witness to what I've created, I'm even okay with that.

Sort of. Because I'm of the philosophy that writing for ones' own personal enjoyment is a great hobby, but if you have no intention of every sharing your story, why not just keep it in your head?

Perhaps my solution should be to cut myself off from all media. Currently I never, ever read any book if it even slightly resembles something I have cooking in my own mind. I don't want to ever be influenced - consciously or not - by someone else's interpretation. But clearly I am being influenced somehow.

Scary.

The Office

So, I finally discovered The Office.

I'd caught a random episode at one point, and I couldn't figure out what in the world people found so funny about this show. Maybe it's the absence of a laugh track to clue me in to what was supposed to be funny, but I just didn't find myself amused in any way. Office Manager Michael Scott (Steve Carell) was inane and stupid, and paper salesman Dwight Shrute (Rainn Wilson) was downright mean. I was supposed to tune in to watch these two goof balls act like idiots?

Then, a few weeks ago, I was trolling through the remote when I happened to catch the Tuesday night airings of The Office in syndication on TBS. Two episodes, which I watched intently, and I was good and hooked.

I have no idea what spurred me to give this show another try when I hadn't gotten it the first time. Actually, yes, I do know.

Jim and Pam.

In various formats I've come to learn that this couple called "Jim and Pam" are really appealing and offer up loads of UST and are just one of the cutest things to watch on TV. Since I'm always game to find a wonderful new 'shipping opportunity, I even went so far as to YouTube Jim and Pam and caught a few "My Favorite Jim and Pam Moments" vids which, to be honest, were enough to catch me up to their story and convince me that, yes, they seem to be 'ship-worthy. I figured if I ever got the chance, maybe I'd tune in again if only so I could watch this lovely couple get their romance on.

Come to find out, when I watched those two rerun episodes that Tuesday night, I was jumping into the Karen-As-Obstacle chapters of the Jim and Pam romance. Even though this might be consider the lowest valley in the Jim/Pam relationship rollercoaster, I still found them compelling as both a couple and as individual characters. Plus, what do you know, some of the other characters were kind of funny as well.

Some easy wikipedia reading caught me up, I set my DVR to record any old and new episodes, and headed to Amazon to see how cheaply I could find Seasons 1, 2, 3 or 4 in the "Buy New/Used" section.

Over the past week, I've watched all of Season 1, all of Season 2, most of Season 3 (the local Blockbuster didn't have the 3rd disc on hand for rental) and the Season 5 episodes that have aired in the last few weeks.

What I don't get is why in the world I didn't find this show hilarious the first time I saw it. This show is a roll-on-the-floor scream! And it's not just the Jim/Pam romance that keeps me hooked. It's Michael taking the women of the office shopping at Victoria's Secret and Dwight giving Pam a hanky to wipe away her tears and The Dundies and Bob Vance of Vance Refrigeration and Jan's boob job and creepy Creed (actually, he's the one character I do not like) and the entire premise and execution and all of it. This show is a masterpiece. Of course there's no laugh track. You don't need a laugh track.

And there is Jim. Oh my goodness, there is Jim. What a wonderful hero. He's every-guy. The perfect template for the true beta-hero. He's cute but not gorgeous, sweet and charming but just a little bit goofy. He's romantic but clueless, he's naughty but not cruel. His sense of humor is right up my alley - sarcastic and dry and amused by the absurd. John Krasinski owns this character, and if I worked for Dunder Mifflin Scranton branch, he'd be the reason I showed up at the office every single day. Never before could I have imagined a fantasy wherein I was a receptionist for a paper company.

Pam and Jim's romance has been absolutely perfect. Friends who feel more than friendship, kept apart by Pam's relationship with another man. When Jim confessed his feelings for her at the end of Season 1, I wanted to melt. And knowing that she wanted to be with him as well but felt she couldn't leave Roy...perfect. Then it was too late. Jim was gone and then he had Karen. Or had he?

Best thing about this relationship is how it unfolded so realistically. Just as such a relationship would in this situation, an office friendship turned romance. You can imagine the daily flirting, the lunches together and shared experiences that little by little by little push these two together and deepen their feelings for each other. That's the way we as viewers got to experience it as well. Each episode gave us the same tiny amount of development that one might expect in the real world, nothing huge, no grand gestures or dramatic events. Just a slow evolution that seems very organic but is unmistakable in its direction. Thus the obstacles standing in the way seemed natural as well. You can believe in this relationship because it's based in our reality.

It will be interesting to see how Pam and Jim's engagement and (presumable) new marriage will play out.

One thing I have come to know about this show is that it does need to be experienced from the beginning to fully appreciate. To a casual drop-in viewer, Dwight's antics and Michael's incompetence come across as absurd (see my above experience). You have to live with these characters to understand them, to care for them and understand their appeal. I think that's what was wrong when I saw my first episode. I had no background from which to gain context, so Michael and Dwight came off as stupid rather than funny. Now I've had a chance to see their layers and their actions make a lot more sense.

He's A Magic Man

Holy Cow!

Why do I find this guy amazingly sexy?

He is everything not what I normally imagine when I think of my "perfect guy."

First of all, he's openly gay. Not that I have any issue with homosexuality. But I'm a woman, so the preferring of the males kind of doesn't work for me so much.

Secondly, he's really embraced the whole goth/emo look, complete with black fingernail polish and guy-liner so thick he probably goes through more in one night than I have in my entire life. I've never been big on fingerless black leather gloves or jet-black hair dyed colors not found in nature. I've never been a big fan of any look that requires so darned much effort to affect. Give me a pair of faded Levis, a white tee shirt and a comfy gray hoodie any day of the week for pure honest sexiness. Same with the hair. If I have to fight my guy for the flatiron, something isn't right.

And if all that weren't enough "not my cuppa", the guy looks like he's rocking some ear gauges. I hate - HATE - ear gauges. Granted his aren't the inch-wide, disfiguring horrors they could be, and they are black and thus blend in with his hair. Still...ick.

He's not an alpha male, at least not in the traditional sense. He's a hard core theatre boi, as far from the special operator/firefighter/super spy/he-man manly man as any male could probably be. He's prettier than most women, and not in that masculine male-model way. He's androgyny personified.

So what is it about American Idol contestant Adam Lambert that has me glued to the screen whenever he's performing? I simply cannot look away. I'm mesmerized.

I find him to be walking, talking sex appeal on a stick. He's a gay man who makes straight women want to do very wrong things. He's the antidote to vanilla. He's the thing that entices you into the dark and keeps you coming back for more. He's Spike. He's that boy your mama warned you about but you just can't stay away from.

And I have absolutely no idea why this is. Really.

I do know that I'm not the only one who has reacted to him this way. In last night's critique of his performance, Kara DioGuardi told Adam that he made her feel "confused, but happy." I'm so on board with this. Completely.

Or, as recapper Jacob put it in his latest AI recap on TWoP:

"It is... I hate this, because he makes me talk like Paula because people words don't work for things that are essentially otherworldly, so every week it's difficult to describe without resorting to these weird labored metaphors. So -- beyond saying that the Jeff Buckley vocal resemblance gets stronger every week and somebody needs to mention that already -- like... It's sort of like what if that movie Queen Of The Damned were not only real, but interested in slipping you a roofie and selling you on the black market. He screeches out some kind of artsy orgasm and nearly pulls his shirt up over his head, and then just starts wailing like some forgotten homosexual Greek myth about sailors that never come home. It's... Totally awesome. Of course. I feel weird and crazy, and entertained. Those sudden register shifts used to freak me out with Jeff Buckley too, like, "And now I am a lady... And now I am a dude again." I can't imagine how uncomfortable that must have been for lots and lots of people."

There just aren't the right kind of words out there to describe what goes through my head when Adam performs. It's beyond me.

I can identify one undeniable aspect of his appeal, at least as far as I go. Adam simply oozes confidence. He knows who he is, what he is, what he wants to be, and he makes zero apologies to anyone for any of it. I think confidence is the sexiest trait a man can have, and Adam has it in spades. When he's on it, he owns the stage.

I admit, Adam is an extremely polarizing performer. You pretty much either love him (!) or hate him. You get him or you don't. Unfortunately, from what I've garnered on various message boards and via various Idol reviews, getting him/liking him or not is much dependent on where you stand in general conservativeness or liberalness. Seems like the Obama supporters are on board whereas the McCain/Pallin cheer team simply doesn't get him. I think you have to have a pretty wide open mind in order to appreciate the experience that is Adam Lambert.

You can check out the video of his performance last night here. Check out the rest of his videos if you want to see if you, too, will fall victim to Adam's brand of magic.

Should Be a Four Letter Word

There are a few words in the English language that I cannot stand to hear spoken. One of those words is a racial slur, and two others are slang for parts of the female anatomy. Honestly, I hear those words and my skin crawls and I want to find a hole to hide in.

But now there is another word that causes me to cringe when I hear it used in a particular context - cougar.

I'm talking about cougar when defined as: a woman, usually over the age of 35, who seeks out the sexual attention of men who are younger than she is, usually in their early-to-mid twenties.

Basically, cougar as it is used to describe the female version of a dirty old man.

The local radio station that I listen to recently ran a gag wherein they were sponsoring a "cougar" party, stocking the event with young guys and inviting self-proclaimed or wannabe cougars to call in and win chances to attend. The radio station would play a snarling cougar sound byte as part of the promo, and every single time I heard that sound, I had to turn the station.

I have no idea why this irritates me so much. Maybe it's because I'm over 35 and the idea of anyone thinking of me as a cougar humiliates me. I do appreciate the pleasing face and form of a young, physically fit male, but I'm in no way on the prowl. In my world, cougar is far from a compliment.

Too, I can't get out of my head the stereotypical image of a middle aged woman, face painted with layers of makeup, body stuffed into lycra pants and a gaudy beaded top, cruising the bars looking to score. This is just as bad as the depiction of some balding middle aged guy cruising college campuses in his mid-life crisis vehicle, looking to score some young ass. Ick on so many levels.

I guess I also have issue with what I perceive is certain amount of desperation being turned into some kind of joke. I'm sure there are many cougars out there who love their lives, are happy with their choices, and are very proud of their ability (after a certain age) to attract the attention of younger men. But for me, the word cougar denotes a certain amount of desperation and neediness - that these women must have the attention of younger (and presumably attractive) men in order to validate themselves. If this is the case, why is it okay to make that into a joke? Nobody thinks it's okay to be a dirty old man. And certainly no radio station I know of would consider sponsoring a "Dirty Old Man" event wherein men over the age of 35 or 40 are encouraged to call in so that they can win a chance to attend a party stocked full of women in their early twenties.

Of course, my pity is probably unwarranted. These cougars are probably having the greatest sex possible and should be the subjects of envy. Somehow, though, I can't manage that reaction.

I'm not a fan of extreme May/December romances, which I admit is totally unreasonable. No reason an older woman can't or shouldn't find love and happiness with a younger man. But I've figured out why I have a problem with it - I can't manage to get rid of the cougar factor.

This Is Good Writing?

Holy cow. Ever have one of those reading experiences that leaves you wondering in complete bafflement why in the world that particular book ever got published?

I'm not talking having a problem with the plot being full of holes or the characters acting TSTL. I'm talking about the writing just being so bad that you can't believe that this is what passes for publishable writing?

Over the weekend I tackled my To Be Read pile, which has begun to take over my house. I realized there are really a lot of books that I own that I'm just dying to read, and I need to get busy. So I grabbed a YA title off the top of the pile and crawled into bed an hour early.

After the first chapter, I was left shaking my head over the narrative voice, which was so scattered that it made buckshot look like a laser beam. The story was told in the first person, so I can handle some amount of stream-of-consciousness flow. But this was so out there, all I could think was that the narrator - a young, 15 year old girl - must be afflicted with schizophrenia. The dialog was equally random, with non sequiturs so abundant I wondered if parts of the text had gotten deleted from the file used to create the printing press plates.

Then there were the type Os that somehow squeaked past copy editing. In a book of 80,000 plus words, you've got to expect the occasional missed type O. But I found six - SIX! - within the first two chapters alone. And these are ones that jumped out at me. I wasn't looking for them with a fine toothed comb. Some copy editor out there is highly overpaid.

But what really got me was just how bad the writing was. I mean, it was just bad. It reminded me of a rough draft, where a writer just brain dumps the story with the intention of going back and fixing sentences to avoid duplication of words (within the same sentence!) and make things less awkward wording-wise. But in this case, that second (or third or fourth) pass was never done, and the book reads like a very amateur offering.

I'm not discussing this to rant about my disappointment over the book. More, I'm just a bit confused and frustrated that something like this got published in the first place. For the past five years, I've paid a lot of attention to the publishing process, following with keen interest the anecdotes and advice offered by published writers of all different success levels as well as editors and other publishing professionals. And the the one issue that always comes up first is how competitive the industry is and how good you have to be to make it to the top of the pile.

But then I read something like this and I have to wonder that if THIS is what represents something someone in the publishing industry considers good writing, what is going on?

When people don't like a book because of story or character, you don't necessarily need to wonder what the editor/publisher was thinking for printing it. If the writing is good, then other aspects are subjective enough to believe the decisions were a matter of taste. But when the writing itself is bad - so bad that you can't get over it to even see the story or characters - what is the answer to the question of why this particular writer is considered "good enough" to be published? I just don't get it.

Because this book is a YA title, I had the scary suspicion that no one thinks it needs to be any better that it is, given the target audience. It's okay to print crap because the only people who read this stuff anyway are teenage girls. How discouraging that idea is.

I couldn't stomach this book enough to finish it, so I started to toss it in the bag to be taken to the used book store, only to pause thinking that maybe my daughter would want to read it in a couple of years. But heck if I want her to read this tripe. Into the bag it goes.

But here's the real WTF moment for me. Wondering if anyone else out there (everyone else!) agreed with my assessment of this book, I went searching for some online reviews. I was horrified - All About Romance gave this title a B-, and one YA review site simply raved about how great this book was.

Am I really that off base? I am not a literary snob by any means. My standards are not uber high. This was really, really bad. I would love to post excerpts here and gather other opinions, but that's a douchey thing to do. Darn it.

A Hard Stop

I had this great idea for a story. It was loosely based on a classic about three sisters (as in, same basic plot arc but with a lot of changes to specifics and situations). One of the sisters - the youngest - didn't actually have much of a story in the original. But I determined that all three ladies would get equal time in my story, so I went about arcing something interesting for her.

But then something unexpected happened. I found myself way more intrigued by the littlest sister's story than the other two sisters'. I got more excited when writing about her, and the scenes I needed to write for the older girls became chore-like.

In addition, this young lady's antagonist began to develop a personality and a voice all his own. Originally I sometimes wrote out scenes from his POV, both because it helped me fill in some things, let me explore why this guy acted the way he did, and, well, I kind of like him a lot and love to spend time with him. I'm finding those throwaway scenes are some of my favorites, and relegating them to my "Little Darlings" file is really unappealing.

All of the sudden, my story has gone from a three POVs to four.

So now I'm faced with a dilemma. I feel like I should let go of my original idea. Cut the two older sisters loose and focus on the youngest. She's far more original, and I like her best of the three.

Except, when I originally concepted the story, the three individual sisters' plots intertwined. What happened to one sister affected the actions of the other sisters, which in turn moved their plots forward. If I cut out the two older sisters, some of the younger sister's story wouldn't happen.

Too, the younger sister's personality was formed by being the youngest of three girls. She fits into a particular slot in her family, and the ways she's differentiated herself from her two older siblings makes her a lot of what she is. If all of the sudden she is sister-less, she changes fundamentally.

I could shove the two older sisters deep into the background. Flesh out only what I need to have fleshed out in order to keep the plot intact. But part of me kind of misses the thought of writing the older sisters' stories, at least at some later date.

Ideally, I'd write three books - one from each sister's POV. Their stories would happen simultaneously, which is where it all falls apart. Any sense of anticipation would be nonexistent, because in reading one sister's story, you'd know what happens to the other two.

Grrr.

I may have to poke around this one for a while longer.

The Things I Know

Yesterday my husband looked over my shoulder at the website I currently had open on my laptop.

"Why are you reading about jellyfish?" he asked.

"I need to know how to treat a jellyfish sting," I replied.

A moment of silence while he processed this. "Is there something I should know about?"

"Nope."

This got me to thinking about all the obscure things I now know or know how to do because of writing.

For example, in addition to offering first aid for a jellyfish sting, I can:

• Start a fire with a flashlight.

• Name all of the runes in the Elder Futhark and their general meanings

• Discuss in disturbing detail the various ways of collecting horse semen for use in artificial insemination

• Identify which plants and herbs would have made a good hair dye in late sixteenth century colonial America

• Explain the process a juvenile delinquent would follow if he were to commit a crime in the UK

• Spew obscenities in eight different languages (well, three of these are variations of English but they count)

• Tell you what drugs to add to a cup of tea to render the drinker unconscious

• Find a great topless beach in Maui

• Take photos in the dark, without using flash so as to not give yourself away

If I get nothing else out of writing, at least I'm gaining an interesting education.

Top Romantic Scenes Cliche

I'm sure this is far from original, but since I love this in any form, I'm going for it any way.

In honor of Valentine's Day, I'd like to share my all time favorite movie and TV love (and kiss) scenes. In no particular order:


1. The final scene from An Officer and a Gentleman. This may have to be the defining Romantic Movie Scene of all time. I mean, who isn't moved by the sight of Richard Gere in his military whites, rescuing Debra Winger from a dreary future in the paper factory when he whisks her literally off her feet and carries her towards the adventures they will share together? Not to mention the movie's quintessential love can heal even the most damaged soul theme. Any one who doesn't melt over this has no soul.


2. The moment when best friends Watts (Mary Stuart Masterson) and Keith (Eric Stoltz) share a "practice" kiss in the movie Some Kind of Wonderful. Neither one of them expects the way the kiss affects them, and it's so clear to us, the viewers, that these two share something way more than friendship. The ending of the movie runs a close second (so I've linked it because I love it!), but this is one of my all time favorite movie kisses.




3. This is a quickie but quite possibly the best example of Finally Resolved Sexual Tension ever presented on TV. It's the kiss between The West Wing's Josh (Bradley Whitford) and Donna (Janel Moloney) in Season 7's "The Cold" episode. For six and a half long seasons, loyal viewers (and Donna/Josh shippers) had been longing for this. The payoff was well worth the wait. It also proved the perfect example of how to drag UST on and on without frustrating viewers.


4. The next two examples are beautiful because of the tragedy they present. Any fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer knows why Buffy and her soul mate Angel can't be together. But it isn't until the episode "I Will Remember You," in Season 1 of Angel, when Angel is made human and the two have a chance to experience what life could be like, that the true sadness of the situation comes to light. In this scene, Buffy and Angel realize that they can never be together, and not only is their future taken from them, but the one glorious day they spent together will also be lost to Buffy when her memory is stripped. Too, Angel must live the rest of eternity knowing how good he almost had it. This scene breaks your heart.



5. The next scene is kind of an obscure choice. It's the last scene from the movie Green Card. Now, generally I'm not a big fan of Andie MacDowell (that rain scene with Hugh Grant in Four Weddings and a Funeral was god awful), and Gérard Depardieu has to be the homeliest romantic hero I've ever encountered. But the moment when his character George kisses uptight Bronte for the final time, the look on his face is one of pure torment. At last he's obtained the love of this prickly woman, only to face immediate deportation. I remember watching this movie with my father, and looking at him with dismay at the end of it, wondering WTF?! For nearly two hours we watch these two people fight and then fall in love, only to have them separated at the end? But upon rewatching, I realized that their separation is far from final. She can always join him in France. Even so, there is a bittersweetness in these moments between them that is pure romance.



6. This one is just hot. H.O.T. I stopped watching Lost after the second season and haven't managed to pick it back up again to find out how the romance between Kate and Sawyer (and Jack) is progressing. But when Kate and Sawyer turned to each other and sex as a way to find comfort in a hopeless situation, you couldn't help but swoon. Forget that they are dirty and most likely smelly, and that they are basically in zoo cages on display for one and all to watch. This one is steamy.


7. Okay, this needs a disclaimer. This is romantic in the sweetest, most innocent way possible. In the live action remake of Peter Pan, I finally understood the relationship between Peter and Wendy. The tension between the allure of remaining a child forever, and the irresistible pull of growing up. When Wendy gives her first "hidden" kiss to Peter, it is simply wonderful in that way that all first kisses are.

I couldn't find a clip to embed directly, but you can check out the scene here.

8. I'm not sure if this ranks as most romantic, but it is by far one of the most passionate, desperate kisses I've ever seen portrayed in the movies. The tragedy of Brokeback Mountain was in how two people so obviously meant to be together had to hide every emotion they had toward each other. But sometimes, the feelings were so strong they couldn't be denied. After four years apart, Ennis Delmar simply can't help himself when he sees Jack Twist, and the result is explosive, almost violent.


9. I think only about a thousand or so people will understand the hotness of the following scene since probably only that many were ever fans of the short lived series, Men in Trees. But the heat between Marin (Anne Heche) and Jack (James Tupper) was obvious from the first second the two met in a bar in Elmo, Alaska. It takes a heat wave for them to finally act on it. But when they finally do, dang, the screen is on fire! Jack is a guy of very few words, but the look on his face is fierce enough to say it all. Sorry for the poor vid quality, but this show is yet to be put on DVD, so there isn't much out there.

10. Maybe not romantic, per se, but definitely hot. When Annie (Susan Sarandon) and Crash (Kevin Costner) finally get together in Bull Durham, it's a match made in heaven. And who doesn't love a man as confident as Crash? I tell you, cornflakes never looked so good.



I have a lot of ideas for more, but I'm having problems linking vids. Seems everyone wants to use movie clips to make music videos rather than posting them pure. Anyway, here's some runner up scenes:

The love scene in the library, between Kiera Knightly and James McAvoy in Atonement. Whoa.

Any scene where Keanu Reeves is kissing the heroine. He is quite possibly the best on-screen kisser out there.

The reunion seen between Jude Law's Inman and Nicole Kidman's Ada in Cold Mountain. I can't bear to watch the entire film again, but I could watch this love scene over and over...

Isn't love grand? Happy Valentine's Day.

Living, Breathing Fake People

Any writer who goes about things through her characters is well familiar with the notion that fictional characters become almost real to those of us who conceive them and spend inordinate amounts of time thinking about them and then writing about them. These people who are nothing more than figments of our imagination become as real to us as people we know who actually move and breathe, even if we keep this little fact to ourselves. We can hear voices, imagine what a character will do in a given situation, even attribute a runaway plot to a character who isn't doing what we expected him or her to do.

But in the interest of creating three-dimensional characters who are able to engage a reader and draw them into the story, I have to wonder when a writer has gone too far. When the character becomes a little too real.

I'm sure each writer has his or her own particular line.

I have an entire village worth of characters who populate my brain, each person as unique and familiar to me as my own family members. And I've done some crazy things in my efforts to get to know the ins and outs of these folks.

I've interviewed my characters. Inserted myself into a scene, asked questions like a reporter and responded to the answers I was given, just as if I were as fictional as my character. I find this is a great way to fine-tune my character's voice. It also helps me dig deep, to follow threads that reveal motivation and deep seated feelings I'd never before considered. I have a lot of fun with this, and often it threatens to take over the actual writing of the story.

I've heard a song on the radio and thought about whether or not a particular character would like it. More often, I hear a song and think how much it suits a particular character or his/her situation. Usually the songs ends up on a playlist.

I've cruised through catalogs - on-line - looking for clothes I can imagine my characters wearing or the way I imagine their rooms might look.

I've come up with elaborate family trees.

I've created dossiers, complete with photos. Someday, I think these would be fun extras on a website for the published books. Hey, they did it with the James Bond movies.

I've filled out form after form, answered questionnaires and taken personality tests as my characters, and even explored their horoscopes, looking for tiny clues about what makes them tick.

I've sprayed cologne from the testers at the cosmetics counter onto a piece of paper or tissue and sealed it in a baggy so I can recapture the way I think a particular character smells. I think this was probably the closest to my personal limits line that I've ever gotten.

Things I've never done:

I've never bought an item for a character because I thought he or she would wear it/like it/want it. I did once buy a bayberry-scented candle because one of my characters used bayberry soap, and I wanted to check to make sure I liked the smell. I excused this by calling it research.

I've never accidentally called someone in my real life by a character's name.

I've never allowed my characters to actually interact with real people as if they were living humans themselves, a la the Brotherhood vampires on JR Ward's Black Dagger website.

I've never celebrated a fictional character's fictional birthday.

I've never let a character hijack my story. Sure, they may have introduced a tangent or two that I'd never thought about, but I've never had a problem with misbehaviour or downright mutiny.

In the end, however a writer goes about making her characters as real as they can be, the ultimate test is conveying that to the reader. Whatever gimmicks are necessary, I say go for it.