Avatar was not bad.  Technically, it was fantastic, though I found it a more logical step up from LOTR than an unanticipated one-movie revolution of film.  Narratively, it wasn’t distinctive in any way other than its complete predictability of premise, character, plot, and just about everything but the look of the film.  The celebration it has garnered I find sad, because it is indicative of the substantial appetite there is for style without much substance.  What bothers me the most is that style can readily be used in service of substance, as could well have been the case with Avatar.  Here are a few specifics that bothered me about the film as well as an idea of what would have made it more interesting, which may help you better understand my opinion of the film.

1) Alien Love: Two complete different species experience attraction and romance so predictably that Jake and Neytiri develop an intimate relationship in a very familiar, human way.  Not only is this a boring approach, it isn’t particularly genuine.  The Na’vi are descended from felines and have carbon filaments strengthening their bones.  Their passions would likely be expressed, at least at times, far less tenderly than human intimacy.  Even the Klingons had more complexity with their snarling and biting and amorous adventures into dominance.  A lot could have been done with the complexities of inter-species romance, so big opportunity missed.  Every love story is about individuals, which means that they are at some level alien to one other.  By taking advantage of the significant differences between two individuals of literally different species, an interesting commentary could have been made on the nature of romance and love.   

2) Angelic Science: There are some quirks about Sigourney Weaver’s character that make her more interesting than any other character in the film, but even that is window dressing.  Weaver’s Dr. Augustine is driven by curiosity just hard enough to never compromise anything in the film.  Science is as pure as the Na’Vi faith, this perfect oneness with everything.  What a crock.  Science as a method is pretty trustworthy and impartial, but as a practice it’s cutthroat.  It’s intertwined with economics and prestige and the substantial fallibility of humans, and people who are driven to be the best in their fields aren’t ever self-sacrificing altruists.  Dr. Augustine would have been much more interesting if she was shown to be benefiting materially in some way from her study of the Na’Vi.  Would this make her evil?  Of course not.  Would it have made her a genuine scientist?  Certainly.  Real scientists confront tough calls frequently, crises of ethics and competition, and seeing how Augustine handled such situations would have helped the film immensely.  Instead, science serves as the perfect mechanism to verify the perfect system inherent to Pandora, and as any storyteller should know, few things are as boring as perfect.  Which brings me to the next point…

3) The Circle of Life!  Works well for an animated Disney show meant primarily for kids; for adults of a more examining nature, not so much.  The assumption that unadapted nature is the perfect environment for a sentient species is illogical.  The very emergence of sentience is tied to the ability to manipulate.  If I am aware of my my self then I critique my self, and as I separate my self from other things, I make use of them as best I can.  A sentient species will—even must—prioritize itself over other life by the simple fact of direct experience.  The simplistic conservationist message of the film was so trite as to be painful.  Now, if the Na’Vi’s god truly had not taken sides and let them all die, that would have been an authentic presentation.  Not a great film, but at least authentic.  What would have been far more interesting is a presentation of an evolved Na’Vi culture, better off in some ways and harmed in others, after interaction with humans.  If there’s a single great truth about nature, it’s change or die.  If the Na’Vi had been forced to adapt to the new situation, changing their culture in some way irrevocably, that would have been interesting to see.  Instead, we get a message not quite complex enough to deserve an Elton John song.

4) Evil, Stupid, and Cowardly Business:  The suit behind all the nastiness on Pandora is possibly the most irritating and one dimensional character in Avatar.  Believe it or not, even lowlifes usually don’t see themselves as lowlifes.  Most of them even have good points, such as sound understanding of market forces or even the yearnings and appetites of their market.  Some have even heard of a concept called “business ethics.”  They may not always follow these, but it does play a role in their decision making.  Ribisi’s character would have been so much more interesting if he’d genuinely represented the corporate world: human, perhaps even likable, but driven to do something that really bothers him.  He could have been charming, truly invested in finding a peaceful solution and bothered by their inability to do so—and he still could have ordered the attack on the Na’Vi.  That’s what makes excessive capitalism frightening: it can recognize other values, such as diversity, ethics, or interpersonal relationships, and consciousness relegate them to lesser value than profit.   It would have been even more interesting if the Na’Vi had genuinely benefited from the “Sky People,” making the corporation a great yet dangerous catalyst forcing the Na’Vi to decide how much of their own future would stay in their hands.  Instead, it was like Wal-mart with missile turrets bristling from every store.  Yeah, most realistic.

5) The Great Satan (the American military): This one makes me genuinely angry.  I find the assertion that soldiers are evil to be extremely offensive.  Most soldiers, including American soldiers, don’t demonize their opponents.  Their training is designed specifically to prevent that.  Soldiers are trained to focus on what they do, and to do it as perfectly as possible under the worst of conditions.  The enemy is a variable that you do not allow enough influence to dictate the outcome of engagement.  You don’t have to belittle or hate someone to fight them, even to kill them.  That’s one of the fascinating things about soldiers and war.  Col. Quaritch is every stereotype of the evil military commander.  He is a conscienceless killer, doesn’t know or respect his enemy, and is driven by no particular affection or defense of anything in which he’s invested.  He’s violent for the sake of violence.  At the very least they could have shown his viciousness arising from camaraderie with his men, which is true of almost every single combat vet I’ve ever met.  The dynamics of war are fascinating in their difficulty.  Soldiers are both people and weapons, and those aspects frequently fight against each other.  That’s what PTSD is, the human portion lashing out at things the weapon disregards as being no longer consequential.  Col. Quaritch isn’t human, just weapon.  If that happened in real life, and I expect it can, the result is a type of monstrous victim, someone who has had the humanity literally bleed and burned out of him.  There is no husk of a human soul in Avatar’s archvillain; he’s no person, just function.  That, ultimately, is the common fatal flaw throughout nearly every section of this movie: every character has a why for their existence, but almost never is there a why behind their why.  It is a film full of sparkly things, which, unfortunately, includes every character in the movie.

I don’t know why I did this other than that it seemed fun and, to my knowledge, has not been done before (likely for good reason).  My sincerest gratitude to ForeverTeal who, through a coincidence of fortune that shall not further be expounded upon, played a role in the creation of… whatever this is. 

(Let’s make a game of it.  I won’t tell you which person represents which sign, but I’ll describe them really well and give the birthdate ranges that correspond.  See if you can figure out which character typifies which sign.  If you need some help, go to the site that gave me this crazy idea: PBS’s Masterpiece Theater gallery of Austen’s male characters.)

The Zodiac of Manly Men of Jane Austen

Frederick Tilney, Northanger Abbey, March 21st - April 20th: The Frederick Tilney is of an aggressive, cavalier nature yet remains somewhat insular.  He is impulsive, running whichever direction—or after whichever skirt—most entices him, though often this pursuit is more for the sake of the chase than the prize.  From the virtuous to the degenerate, all Frederick Tilneys are dynamos.  The best marshals his pioneering spirit and lust for adventure t0 blaze trails for society to follow; the worst burn paths through any society unfortunate enough to seek to contain him.  Subtlety is never his strength, nor is patience, or undo burden of empathy.  While pro-activity and risk are his hallmarks, a wise Frederick Tilney will temper his perpetual motion so as to not always charge regardless of the level of resistance or consequence to himself or others.

Colonel Christopher Brandon, Sense and Sensibility, April 21st - May 21st: The Christopher Brandon is stolid, dependable, and can be as unchanging and impervious as stone.  His devotion to purpose and fulfillment of his promises, to self and others, is all but certain regardless of circumstance.  This unwavering center makes him a leader who cannot be swayed from his aims, which may lead to seemingly impossible triumphs or catastrophes of such scope as to boggle logic.  When his character is tempered by devotion to others or social principles he becomes a staunch defender and advocate for others; when the opposite, he embodies the extremes of self-centeredness, and is dictatorial and self-gratifying to the point of totalitarianism.  A wise Col. Brandon will endure the foibles of others as he does chaos of situation without succumbing to fury.

George Wickham, Pride and Prejudice, May 22nd - June 21st: The George Wickham is engaging, lively, and the life of any party, from the most intellectual soiree to nights of crude language and cards.  His intellect and charisma are frequently matched with a skill at oratory, which makes him both a gifted storyteller and liar.  Truly skilled at mobilizing and manipulating people, he is nonetheless not well fitted for leadership roles as they require a level of dedication and fixation that is alien to him.  His great variety of interests and appetites sometimes combine with his enthusiasms and vigor to create a perpetual adolescent.  This craven being possesses the appearance of wide ability while actually lacking all depth but a sinister, manipulative core.  A wise George Wickham will delight himself by fostering an interest in others rather than consuming them in moments of impulse, even when they sometimes lack his persistent energy.

Henry Tilney, Northanger Abbey, June 22nd - July 22nd: The Henry Tilney is both caring and prone to appreciate the fantastic, but beneath lies a constancy and strong and stable foundation.  In many ways possessed of a variable personality, there is nonetheless an undercurrent of deeply rooted conviction of some sort in him, whether in morality, or law, or power.  The unpredictability that sometimes typifies his life arises from his instinctive and creative expressions of this underlying foundation.  While his breaking the orthodox can make him a fantastic problem solver, he makes a poor leader as he tends to act in ways that are difficult or even impossible for others to understand and emulate.  When poorly seasoned, this combination of creativity and bedrock conviction results in the despising of others, resulting in schizophrenic paranoia, obsessiveness, and control issues.  A wise Henry Tilney will keep as his guiding principle the notion of balance between his confident center and his quick, adaptable intellect with which he engages the world. 

Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pride and Prejudice, July 23rd - August 22nd: The Fitzwilliam Darcy is a mover of men, an exercise in constant and constructive movement.  No other type is so possessed of the confidence, charisma, adaptability, and determination to inspire obedience and even adoration in others.   He is leadership personified, and leads others even when traveling to destinations he would like to avoid himself.  The Mr. Darcy is the span against which other men are measured, both by themselves and by him.  While frequently charitable in his consideration of others, his good graces are always dependent upon conduct that fits his personal code.  No man can be as narcissistic, domineering, and intractable as a Mr. Darcy whose confidence tips to assurance of infallibility.  A wise Mr. Darcy will remember that even the greatest gifts are often best used in moderation, otherwise those he seeks to sweep into his wake will break themselves against him instead.

William Collins, Pride and Prejudice, August 23rd - September 23rd: The William Collins is a doer of deeds rather than a master of words or performance.  His method is almost mechanical: particular, precise, extremely intelligent, and acutely conscious of both practicality andtheory.  His goal-oriented nature is paired with a humility and even aversion to celebrity that makes him a fine independent worker or coordinator of others and a reluctant leader.  This fixation upon method and result can, when exaggerated, become an extreme judgmentalism that results in constant criticism of others.  The standard becomes the expectation, and any deviation from such is not only a sign of imperfect performance but genuine incapability and dishonest intent.  To avoid such didactic judgment of the entire world, a wise Mr. Collins will not examine possible future problems before they have come, assume the worst about a deviation from the expected before seeing a result, or claim to have established a lone perfected method of achieving any end.

Charles Bingley, Pride and Prejudice, September 24th - October 23rd: The Charles Bingley is imminently likable, most significantly because of the common and easy affection and regard he feels—and shows—for others.  He is a peacemaker, well equipped to use his charm and romantic sensibilities to diffuse tension and avoid conflict, for diplomacy rather than leadership.  His extreme optimism makes him a man of significant endurance, able to shake off circumstances that would cripple others.  However, if his idealistic nature is allowed too free a rein, he may become unmoored, moved by impulse and improper exercise of momentary passions.  A Charles Bingley lost to innate romance is a constant victim and victimizer, a slave to gratifications without understanding of consequence.  His life is likely to be spent constructively diffusing conflict or destructively avoiding it at all costs.  A wise Mr. Bingley will consider the counsel of others yet make his own decisions, seek for the good while admitting the bad, and establish a level of principle where even he will not compromise.

Henry Crawford, Mansfield Park, October 24th - November 22nd: The Henry Crawford is more a force than a man, a configuration of a number of different virtues—intellect, passion, spirituality, sensuality—whose total is always a rare potency: power of feeling, or speech, or action, of attraction, of virtue or vice, or even all at once.  He is a being of extreme emotions, both positive and negative, that can sometimes be hidden but never dismissed.  His every action is intense, an outgrowth of strong purpose and expression of self.  If he becomes a leader he does so almost unconsciously, as it is difficult for him to place much investment outside himself and his own exploration of self.  More frequently possessed of genius and ravenous curiosity than all others, his life is marked by grand events and actions that can be both supernally beneficial or demonically destructive.  A Mr. Crawford whose great gifts and potency combine in unfettered self-service becomes an inferno capable of consuming all and everything he comes across.  To avoid this fate as human vortex, a wise Mr. Crawford will realize that the scope of his life will be measured by his influence on those around him, not his utter remaking of them, and that power allows for great reciprocity rather than just domination.

John Thorpe, Northanger Abbey, November 23rd - December 21st: The John Thorpe is an eager embracer of life and all that comes with it.  While often bright and capable of deep thought and wit, he is  rarely obsessive about the complexities of life or prone to fixate on perplexities.  His is an appreciative nature which finds a wealth of interesting, beautiful, and enjoyable delights wherever he goes.  He is direct and honest in his communication, which often inspires trust in others but rarely leads to his developing a following as his affection for freedom and independence is too great.  While his good nature and spontaneity often make others feel comfortable in his presence, if overindulged he may become erratic, foolish, and forever swept along by the frivolous.  A wise Mr. Thorpe will anchor his effervescent nature with strong principles and temper his enthusiasm for the new with his experience.

Edmund Bertram, Mansfield Park, December 22nd - Januray 20th: The Edmund Bertram is a diligent realist, able to overcome a variety of challenges because of his discipline, pragmatism, and strong goal orientation.  Where other men would shirk from truth or become flippant at the difficulties of life, he is buoyed up by a cautious but innate good nature.  He has the rare ability to see genuine humor in even difficult circumstances.  While not particularly adept at inspiring others, he is often liked and imminently trusted for his firm understanding and patience with others.  As both an ambitious and cautious man, he is more likely to reach profound goals than many others by being methodical and consistant in his efforts.  His strong center of gravity does risk consuming him, however, wrapping him up in the difficulties of reality more tightly than his inherent humor can balance.  This pessimist can reach the very deepest depressive depths, which results in near suicidal fatalism and utter incapacity of the charitable.  To escape such a fate a wise Edmund Bertram will stay conscious of the light side of things and be generous when judging the efforts of others, and will not allow the vicissitudes of life to appear to him as inescapably systematic.

George Knightley, Emma, Januray 21st - February 19th: The George Knightley is a perpetual seeker of truth, a man driven both to explore the natures of those around him and of his own mind and soul.  He makes the very best and truest of friends and is more able than any other to return good for evil so long as one gives honest effort at camaraderie.   Capable and wise in the ways of the world, mind, heart, he is a source of excellent counsel and sound judgment.  His intellect is such that he sometimes sees superior possibilities earlier than others, but is patient enough to steer them in these directions even if they make mistakes.  This combines with his natural generosity to make him a fine administrator or counselor, though his leadership is usually not of a supreme nature.  His capacity and comfort in society belie an underlying independence, a lonesome quality that he never quite abandons.  This hidden core is rarely communicated, and if hidden too deeply and allowed to grow to unhealthy proportions can turn his gentle nature harsh.  Patience becomes frequent irritation, kindness becomes callousness, peacemaking gives way to constant opposition, all as his secret inner orientation override his faith in anything other than himself.  A wise George Knightley will keep his personal/social balance steady by always seeking to participate constructively in the spheres in which he walks rather than observing while detached.

Edward Ferrars, Sense and Sensibility, February 20th - March 20th: The Edward Ferrars is the most gentle, kind, and willingly adaptive of all men.  No other has the same persistent ability to rise above the baseness around him to treat people with civility and respect regardless of situation.  He is also extremely empathetic, so much so that others may feel he is gifted with supernatural understandings and awareness of the thoughts and concerns of others.  While unlikely to galvanize or lead others frequently, he is very likely to preserve associations and groups by inspiring unity and understanding during times of great conflict.  While maliciousness is all but impossible for him, his otherworldly nature can reach the excessive, removing him from reality all together.  Thus unhinged he becomes incapable of facing problems, refuses to communicate with anyone, and becomes easily taken advantage of and manipulated.  A wise Edward Ferrars will balance his great heart and soul by strengthening his mind, and remember that helping others is not possible while denying the tragic realities of human experience.

First, the bad: it looks like there’s been some turmoil at UVU’s annual Forum on Children’s Literature.  I won’t go into the details as that might be airing people’s dirty laundry in public, but I will say that if any of you have registered to attend or were considering it, you may want to contact the organizers and demand information on all the changes.  My understanding is that everything from guests of honor to panelists and breakout presenters are up in the air at this point.  The conference also looks to be far smaller this year than it has in the past, and may shift its focus away from writing to education all but completely.  If you registered for this conference or are considering it, be sure that you find out exactly what the experience may be like.  It’s coming up in about two weeks, so you’ll want to look into it quickly, especially if you’re considering asking for a refund.

The next bit of news is far more pleasant, and is quite an opportunity: on March 10th from 6:30 to 9:30 p.m., Dan Wells, author of I Am Not a Serial Killer, will be presenting a workshop on Story Structure and Pacing at Weber State University.  The event will be held at the Hurst Center, Legacy Hall, and will cost $10 or $20 at the door.  I know Dan and let me assure you that he knows his stuff.  He’s easily one of the top writing craftsmen in the local area, no joke.  Taking a workshop from most other writers who are as capable as Dan could easily cost four times what you’ll pay at the door for this event.  If you’re working on your craft and can make it to the WSU area, it’ll be well worth your time and money. 

Next time something… well, I was going to say special, but I think I’ll stick with just something.  Hint in the form of a story problem: If Jane Austin is traveling from New York to Los Angeles at the pace of your standard barouche and collides with astrology in the midnight sky somewhere above Akron, what do you get?  

First off, tonight I’ll be talking to Rick Walton’s BYU class on children’s publishing again. The class is about breaking into the business, and having one book out for roughly nine months I’m sure qualifies me. I really enjoyed the last time I visited the class, and expect to do so again tonight.

Next up, I’ll be taking part in a pair of events next week. The first will be a visit to East Sandy Elementary school on Thursday, March 4th. I’ll do an assembly for 3rd-6th grades at 1:30 p.m. Should be fun, as always.

The next day, Friday, March 5th, I’ll be presenting at UELMA’s Spring Conference (the Utah Educational Library Media Association), which is being held at Mountain View High School (665 West Center Street, Orem, UT). I’m slated to present at noon (as is James Dashner, who somehow always seems to follow me around. I will need to think of a particularly biting joke about him to use in my presentation to teach him a lesson). The presentation is called Goosebumps, Great Expectations? Tomato, Tomaeto, Potato, Potaeto…: Why the only poor story is a story not read. I’ve put together what should be a really fun workshop on archetypes in narrative, why they exist, and how they undergird the importance of libraries as a place where children can develop narrative literacy without the impositions on reading that come from other areas of their lives. We’ll talk about archetypal theory and see it in action in a wide variety of texts, learn who fills the Darth Vader role in Pride and Prejudice, and stuff like that. Any school librarians considering me for a visit to their school are encouraged to attend the breakout session. It will give you a good idea of what I have to offer as a teacher and presenter.

Finally, a pair of events on May 15th. In the morning I’ll be conducting a two-hour workshop on characterization and triple-duty writing (come to the workshop to see what that is) for the League of Utah Writers’ Spring Workshop. I’ll be holding the workshop from 9 - 11:00 in the morning. The event is free for League members, though I promise the experience will be worthwhile even if you have to pay. (Joining the League for $24 a year is cheaper, and well worth it for any local writer.) I’ll give more information about venue and other contributors when I learn more.

After the workshop, I’m driving to Provo to take part in the Provo Library’s Annual Provo Children’s Book Festival. I believe that I will be reading from Green Dragon Codex in the afternoon, but I’m not sure when. Of course, I’ll let you know as soon as I do. This is a great—and FREE—event, so anyone interested in children’s literature really should be there. The list of participants is just fantastic. When you start with names like Brandon Mull and Shannon Hale and don’t go down much at all from there, you know it’s going to be a quality experience. Also, those who know me are aware that I don’t do many readings, especially of my work for children. (Though I’m not too shabby at it, if you’re worried about that.) If you want to hear me read from GDC, this may be your only chance in the near future.

Finally, I try to announce other writing events in my local area when I hear about them (and when I remember to pass along the message). I’m not participating in this one this year, but the 2010 Teen Writers Conference is being held on Saturday, June 5th, at Weber State University. This is a really cool conference focused on encouraging teenage writers between the ages of 13 to 19. Josi Kilpack is kind of the driving force behind this conference, and she and other organizers have lined up a fantastic list of presenters and instructors, many of whom are good friends I respect a lot. If you’re a teen who writes or is interested in writing, or if you know such a person, please let them know about this event. It’s really a great opportunity for professional level instruction very early in a person’s development as a writer.

There is nothing that says a novel can’t be legitimately cross- or multi-generic.. Dean Koontz has been blending psychological terror, supernatural horror, thriller, romance, adventure, historical, science-fiction (especially alternate history), and fantasy for years, and the results are often immensely enjoyable novels that speak to wider audiences than would otherwise be possible.

 This is a really important point.  Genre is by definition a “loose category of composition,” with the emphasis on loose.  They are arrived upon by experimentation and the resulting convention that follows.  They are not static, concrete concepts; they are certainly not boxes or molds into which stories must fit.  Just as Michael remarked, many of the best stories successfully adopt and employ conventions from multiple genres into a cohesive whole.   

So what does that mean?  It means that genre should not be an omnipresent driving or defining guide for either writers or readers; however, knowing the genre in which you’re writing can be important for a few reasons.  

When you’re composing something, whether a written story or a painting or a verbal statement or whatever, awareness of your audience is a rhetorical necessity for effective communication.  The conventions of a genre give us rough guidelines we can use to shape our message for better effect.  Fantasy readers tend to appreciate the impossible presented as plausible, whereas readers of courtroom thrillers are more likely to engage in a story predicated upon a more literal representation of reality as we experience it.  That tells us as writers that if we’re trying to reach Terry Pratchett fans we’d be better served to write stories that are more Pratchett-like than Grisham-ish.

Pratchett-like > Grisham-ish?  Not exactly a scalpel of a compositional tool, is it.  And you know, it’s a wonderful thing that it isn’t.  The moment we come up with exact recipes for narrative is the moment stories stop being told, because we’ll have all relevant perspectives already.  (This will never happen, by the way, so long as a single human being exists.)  So why is genre talked about so often in publishing?  Look at it from an agent’s viewpoint.  If you pitch a story, she wants to know that you have crafted your novel so that it will be attractive to a wide and, hopefully, partially established and identified audience.  If you can’t lump your book into the very loose conventions of established genres, what is she supposed to think?  This story is for older military men who are now pacifists and prefer their symbolism to trend toward fauna, particularly the large predators of the Russian steppe.  Think that will excite her?  Nope, no more than, “There’s something in my story for everyone.”  If you tell her your story is psychological horror, not only can she assume that readers of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Ira Levin, and Edgar Allen Poe may like it and fans of Louisa May Alcott or Helen Fielding probably won’t, but also that you’re familiar with the ideas and tastes of these readers.

This is, I believe, a much more important function of genre.  Yes, it’s important to be able to pitch your work so that an agent or editor will buy it, and that requires being able to tell them where stores will shelve your book; far more important is reading lots of the same things your desired audience is reading so you’re a part of their discourse community.  Communication differs among groups.  Not just in the languages they speak, but in the ideas and emotions they share and explore, and in conventions they create to commuicate successfully.  

Genres work similarly.  Readers of Brandon Sanderson are likely to have read Tolkien, Eddings, Hobbs, and McCaffrey; they’re also more likely than many others to have read C.S. Lewis, Phillip Pullman, and Lloyd Alexander.  This means that these individuals are conversant in certain ideas, symbols, and systems that most others are not.  If you’re writing for these people you sure better have a sense of what they like and don’t like, what they find interesting or perplexing, and especially what became passe decades ago because Piers Anthony or Marion Zimmer Bradley already did it. 

Here’s an analogy: let’s look at all of literature as a cocktail party.  No matter where you are inside the party you hear the buzz of conversation, and everyone in the room has enough in common that they are talking about the same types of things in the generic: occupations, family, recreation, and the like.  People meet each other, make polite chit-chat for a while, and then move on to discuss very similar things with new individuals.  A genre might be considered the subgroups that form within the room to discuss particulars of these broad subjects.  If you abruptly slide into these conversations, you can’t just use the same old lines you’ve used to board passing partygoers in the past.  Here, you’ve got to listen and learn to know what is going on, especially if you want to make a comment that will mark you as anything but completely ignorant.

That’s what genre allows: it is a tool that helps us take part in an ongoing conversation among a specific group of readers so that we can become well-enough informed to add our own voice in a way that will be appreciated.  If a group at the party is discussing the designated batter rule in baseball, you don’t want to blurt out, “That’s the one where the players skate, right?”  Just the same, if readers are enthralled by the seductive nature of evil in the work of Thomas Harris, you don’t want to give them a book based on the premise that truly bad stuff has no place in fiction and so you’ve written a story about a stolen garden gnome (which could be a hilarious book if written for the right reasons and for people who would appreciate it).       

To wrap up: genre isn’t a rule, it’s a tool, like almost everything else in writing.  Use it to reassure prospective editors that you have an idea what type of person will like your book and where the store can shelve it; more importantly, use it to help you write to better effect for the people that are moved by the same ideas, challenges, and passions that drive you.               

I have a question…how do you know in which genre you have written when your novel has several elements of many? Can you recommend any books/references?

Books?  Orson Scott Card’s How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy and Talking about Detective Fiction by P.D. James come to mind.  There’s also a book… just let me look it up… On Writing Romance: How to Craft a Novel That Sells by Leigh Michaels (which I have not read).  Stephen King’s On Writing addresses the three levels of horror writing (terror, horror, and blood and guts basically), if I remember correctly.  I know more books about writing different forms, such as screenplays or short stories, rather than genres. 

As for your question of how do you know what you’re writing, my suggestion is to distill your story to its essence.  Get rid of trappings or elements that are peripheral, or even central in a purely plot sense.  Every story is, at its heart, simple: what is the central conflict and what, ultimately, is at stake?  I’m afraid I can’t be more specific than that without knowing particulars of your story, but here are some broad guidelines:

Fantasy: The impossible/unexplainable plays a vital role in character evolution and resolution to the story.

Science Fiction: Extrapolation of the hypothetical or possible plays a vital role in character evolution and resolution of the story, and usually in offering an idea or commentary about current life.

Horror: Evil or malevolence find some form of personification or expression designed to challenge readers with their own negative emotions for the purpose of catharsis.

Literary: Commentary on society (mostly contemporary) that fosters ambiguity and develops conflict to its most complex and leaves the reader to supply a final resolution.

Inspirational: Conflict is overcome in a manner designed to validate morality and basic human goodness, often attached to religion and spirituality.

Adventure: Plot driven stories that play heavily on exterior stakes, mostly using a male protagonist who cannot change too severely over the course of the story because substantial capability is required from the beginning.

Romance: All other elements and stakes of the story are subjugated to the fate of one or a small number of potential romantic relationships.

Women’s: Relationships and societal forces challenge and facilitate evolution of a woman as an individual or women as a close group.

Mystery: A story about what is going to happen or why did something happen.

Thriller: A story about will the protagonist survive significant harm or tragedy while trying to resolve a crisis or question. 

And, just in an attempt to helpful, here are some tips about writing for specific ages:

Children’s: The story resolves allowing children to still be children.

YA: The story resolves with children being forced to adopt some adult skill sets.

Adult: The story is not one of the previous, or looks upon childhood or youth with a measure of nostalgia.

Does that help, ayarbo?  If you want more specific feedback on what your story may be just head to my contact page and give me a short summary.

Thursday

The conference started off with an interesting panel on writing style, after which I talked with Lisa Mangum about a requested manuscript of mine that’s apparently disappeared in some vortex at Shadow Mountain.  She said she isn’t in the vortex neighborhood (acquisitions) any more, but that believe it or not there is  bottom to the singularity and, yes, a fourteen month wait probably is a good sign in this case.  Having decided I would take what I could get in the optimism department, I headed to a presentation on open source software that made me aware of a few tools that may be very, very helpful.  (I’d never even heard of GIMP, which is apparently an open source graphic program in the vein of PhotoShop, for example.)  After this, I attended a panel on Mormons writing, reading, and editing horror fiction, mostly because Michael Collings (formerly of Pepperdine) took part, and I always love hearing him speak and teach.

Nathan Hale (who works with Shannon Hale on the Rapunzle graphic novels but is not her husband, brother, or othersuch, but is a scion of the Hale theater dynasty) then gave the day’s keynote address, which was a blend of three presentations that wasn’t exactly seemless and was better for it.  It was fun, as were the substantial number of flying fish (the helicopter rather than the standard species).   

Then came my first panel of the conference: Putting Romance in Fantasy.  Other panelists included Mette Harrison (who was a fine moderator in addition to contributing a great deal), Ami Chopine, Lesli Muir Lytle, and Anna del C. Dye.  We talked about romance as a concept apart from romance as a genre, which I thought was important, and I even thought to bust out one of my favorite Oscar Wilde quotes.  A number of people complimented me on the panel over the weekend, so I must have said something constructive, which is the goal.   

Soon after I took part in my second panel of the day, which addressed why so many mothers and dogs and such die in children’s stories.  My friend and former editor Stacy Whitman (who is moving to New York, hurray!) served as moderator and panelist as she pitched questions at two good friends, Julie Wright and Paul Genesse, and myself.  Much of the time was spent establishing the difference between a trope and a cliche, which is a really important distinction.

Oh, I almost forgot.  That night I was invited to a goodbye dinner for Stacy at Bangkok Grill in Orem (about 8th south and 3rd east, I believe).  It was quite a gathering.  Stacy went to BYU with Brandon Sanderson, Dan Wells, Howard Taylor, and a bunch of others now in the writing/publishing world, and they kindly let me attend with the rest of the clan.  It was kind of a thing to see, about twenty-five or thirty of us, a surprising number published writers (some very famous).  Here’s all you need to know: 1) Bangkok Grill is very good (Howard knows his Thai food) so you should go.  Frequently.  2)  Talking about methods of procuring and utilitzing tape worms for medicinal use is not the best subject for dinner conversation, but it can and does happen.  3)  If you think a writer is an especially capable, interesting, or admirable kind of person, never, ever go to dinner with a gang of us.  I fit in that night.  That means you will be disappointed to the brink of suicide.  4) Eating spicy food at night does not hinder my sleep, for which I am profoundly grateful.       

Friday

I was on the first panel of the morning, which filled up despite the hour (9:00 am) because of a really strong lineup: Guest of Honor and NY Times Bestseller Brandon Sanderson, the certified and certifiable schlock genius Howard Taylor, good buddy and perpetual puzzle James Dashner, and Larry Correia and Karen Hoover, neither of whom I knew but both certainly held their own on this heavyweight panel.  I hope I did the same, because this session earned a lot of praise—perhaps because it ranged from imbibing Essence of Payton Manning (you will live a happier life if you don’t ask) to the redneck fairies in Larry’s work to Brandon’s taking “Rapunzel’s hair” and “Sponge Bob” and transmuting them into a story about a space elevator constructed of impervious, semi-divine keratin which facilitates the discovery of a race of sentient sponges.  Yeah, if you weren’t there, you missed out.  That fifty minutes will never be replicated.

Marty Brenneis was the day’s keynotes, and he showed how George Lucas’s special effects company did every single cool thing you’ve ever seen on film.  It was a blast!  (Very literally.)  

At noon I was scheduled for a signing, which eventually happened though it looked for a long time that it wouldn’t.  There was some miscommunication between event organizers and the BYU Bookstore, and myself along with quite a few other authors found none of our books were available to buy.  When I discovered this the previous day I allowed my frustration to get the better of me for a while, but a very kind and patient woman named Tami arranged for me to sell on consignment and all went swimmingly.  They even got a sign with my name printed out in three hours!  I’m telling you, that girl is magic.  I signed some books over the course of the hour and talked to more people, so it turned out great.  A few other ladies at the bookstore helped me along with Tami though I didn’t catch their names.  Thanks, ladies.       

An hour later came my second panel of the day on writing authentic child characters.  Other panelists were Julie Wright (a much better moderator than she gives herself credit for), Dene Low (Laura Card), Laura Bingham, Bron Bahlmann (who is sixteen and truly deserved his seat!), myself, and James Dashner doing his best Jeff Savage impression as Jeff didn’t make it.  (For the record, it was more of a James doing Jeff doing a spot-on James Dashner impression.)  Again, things went well.  I didn’t know Dene or Laura very well, but they were both impressive.  Bron made me feel both old and a touch slow, which is a striking concoction of inferiority.  I’m a bit embarrassed that I laughed when James explained his process of secondary character creation, but it wasn’t insulting at all, at least, it wasn’t meant to be.  It was a result of perplexity.  James just writes good stories, much in the way the wind blows.  He’s so instinctive where I’m analytic.  He’ll tell you frankly he doesn’t know how or why about much of his process and, equally frankly, it’s like an itch I can’t scratch.  I gotta know how that brain works!  I swear, if he’s ever foolish enough to take a nap near me when we’re alone I’m going to find some scissors or something and poke around in his brain.  James, you have been warned.

I wrapped up the day with a really interesting presentation by Bryan Beus, a visual artist who reminds me a lot of myself in his approach to art.  He presented on archetypes and the monomyth in narrative from a largely visual point of view, which I found fascinating.  It really was like looking at a very familiar subject through lenses just that much different from what you’re used to.  We talked for a minute afterward and it was clear that there was some methodological kinship there.  I’m really glad I went.

Saturday

I’m always a bit drained by the third day of a conference and I was only on one Saturday panel, so I planned on keeping things short.  The day started off pleasantly when Brandon Mull and I parked near each other and walked into the Wilkinson Center together.  We caught up a bit and talked shop.  Brandon is one of the very successful writers who has and continues to pound the pavement like a madman.  He’s visited, I don’t know, a thousand schools over the years?  Whatever the actual number, he’s a legend in the local children’s writing world for his energy and work ethic.  When you add that to a terrific storyteller and a genuinely nice guy, you get someone who’s always nice to cross paths with.

Again, my panel was the first of the day (though my second on romance, go figure).  Where before I was the only guy on the romance panel, this was all men: moderator John Brown (who I got to know at dinner on Thursday), fellow Dragonlance writer Dan Willis, and L.E. Modesitt Jr (Lee) in addition to myself.  I thought this panel was fantastic, though Lee did disagree with me a few times (ouch!).  I can’t complain, honestly.  This was a good panel with the four of us dealing with pretty nuanced stuff, from sociological theory to narrative craftsmanship.  There was a lot of interplay and, I think, really actionable information for those in attendance.  I was glad to be a part and look forward to future events with all these men (though the topic of romance seems unlike as a future place for us to meet up). 

Then I spent an hour or two talking with a lovely nineteen-year-old woman about her book—or, you might say, abusing her by suggesting so many options for revision it certainly gave her a headache.  I’d use her name, but she insists she’s a thirty-plus married with two children.  I don’t want to expose her identity as a bald (and very young)-faced liar.

Then I went to two panels on worldbuilding.

Then I came home to write to you.    

Other things I’ll report (which you may or may not want to know):

* People ask me to take pictures with them, and this happened three times at LTUE.  I always agree, but still find this to be extremely odd.  Rather like taking pictures of a can of soup.  There is nothing particularly off putting about a can of soup, certainly, but neither is it possessed of a rare aesthetic quality.  Whenever I’m asked to take a picture with someone, a single thought fills my head: stop looking so confused.

* James Dashner’s entrance in a room is sometimes accomplied by applause, only some of which is sarcastic.  Brandon Sanderson’s is accompanied by greater applause, none of it sarcastic.  Mine is accompanied by no applause.  All of this strikes me as logical.

* Paul Genesse wrote some very generous things (perhaps overly so) on his blog after our Thursday afternoon panel.  He actually posted it that day—after being on four panels!  Like Brandon Mull, Paul too is a machine in synthetic flesh.     

* The Brandons Mull and Sanderson signed books for my brother and his wife.  I will now be even cooler to their family.  (My nephew, who will be four tomorrow, thinks I’m pretty awesome already, so just wait until he can read the dedication to GDC.)

* Best panelist of the conference: L.E. Modesitt Jr.  Yeah, yeah, that guy who kind of sort of disagreed with me about some stuff.  I may not agree with him on everything, but I do most things—and the guy knows his craft and knows how to talk about it.  I admire and respect his balance of intellectual orientation in the disciplines of economics, politics, and other social dynamics with the truly idiosyncratic nature of telling a story.  He’s one who does it right, if you ask me (though he’d be the first to point out that a million other ways can be just as right).  The Brandons, Howard Taylor, and Dan Wells among others are always standouts, but this weekend’s cream was Lee (which, unfortunately, rose only on Saturday as he was supporting his wife with an event she is holding this weekend).  If you ever get a chance to hear Lee talk about writing, don’t pass it up, I’m telling you.    

* My friend Eric Swedin and I still have yet to appear on the same panel, which is beginning to threaten mathematical probability as we know it.  My five panels were, I believe, more than the allotment to anyone not a very special guest.  For his part, Eric is so omni-present at this thing that it is unofficially known as Life, the Universe, and Eric.  (This may become official next year depending on Eric’s generosity and the conference’s poverty.)  I’m impatient to sit with him at the same covered table brimming with mics and free water, do you hear me!

* At my book signing a lady picked up my book, started to read, and in about a minute laughed long and hard out loud.  That was cool.

* Yup, LTUE was all good.

If my tidbit ethos alone is insufficient bait then don’t forget the main courses: Brandons Sanderson and Mull, L.E. Modesitt, James Dashner, Howard Taylor, Mette Ivie Harrison, Lisa Mangum, ad infinitum.  (Well, maybe not that long.)

And here, once more, is my schedule:

Thursday, Feb. 11th

2:00 pm: Putting Romance into Your Fantasy—Do you have to have a love story in Fantasy?  Why or why not?  If you do, how do you balance it with the action and adventure?  Other panelists will be Mette Ivie Harrison, Ami Chopine, Lesli Muir Lytle, and Anna del C. Dye.

4:00 pm: No More Dead Dogs (or Moms)—Why do mothers and dogs always die in children’s literature?  How do we pull at the heartstrings and give child characters independence without killing off dogs and moms?  Other panelists will be Julie Wright, my old editor Stacy Whitman, and Paul Genesse, all good friends so this should be fun.  Also, Stacy andI kind of invented this panel last year.

Friday, Feb. 12th

9:00 am: How to Become an Idea Factory—Where do you find ideas?  How do you go from an idea to a story?  Other panelists will be Brandon Sanderson, Howard Taylor, James Dashner, Larry Correia, and Karen Hoover.  There are some heavy hitters on this panel, so don’t miss it.

12:00 pm: I’ll be having a book signing.

2:00 pm: Writing Fantasy and Science Fiction for a Discerning Audience—How to write believable child characters.  Other panelists will be Julie Wright, Laura Bingham, Laura Card, and Bron Bahlmann Wilcox.  Just a heads up, I think I may take this one in two different directions.  It seems the panel is asking two questions: how to make speculative elements feel authentic, and how to write authentic children characters.  If you’re interested in either question I think you’ll get some interesting insights.

Saturday, Feb. 13th

9:00 am: A Guy’s Take on Writing Romance.  Other panelists will be L.E. Modesitt, Dan Willis, Aleta Clegg, and John Brown.

If it doesn’t, I’ll claim much more than a foundational sameness between Great Expectations and Welcome to Dead House; I’ll argue for the following texts being riffs on the same elemental story: Pride and Prejudice, The Harry Potter Series, The Graveyard Book, Holes, Much Ado about Nothing, Fablehaven, A Wrinkle in Time, The Tale of Despereaux, Last of the Mohicans, Dracula, Dune, Little Women, The Illiad, and the books of 1 and 2 Samuel from the Old Testament (the story of King David).  And just for the record, I am NOT making a comment on the veracity or lack of such of scripture.  Archetypal theory is about narrative, not fiction; it addresses the structure humans apply to everything, including facts and events, in order to construct meaning.

Sound implausible, all those books being the same story?  Well, if you’re not a librarian you may have to figure out how and why this is true on your own.  Then again, once I have a presentation in my toolbox I’m not one to let it rust in there.  If things go well I’ll see about doing the presentation other places.  Then the world can share in the wonderful knowledge that Mr. Darcy is Darth Vader, Japanese Kabuki is only technically and cosmetically different from classical Ballet, and not only do all the world’s great religions believe very similar things, but that these things are taught using the same story that undergirds life.

I’ll let you know how things go next month, as always.  But next on the docket is LTUE!

So it shouldn’t surprise anyone that my recent visits to Farnsworth and Jordan Ridge Elementaries were greatly enjoyable.  I was more experienced at the assembly I give, which made me both more comfortable and more effective at the presentation.  I think everyone involved got something from the experience.

On Thursday I went to Farnsworth and did the assembly for several grades, 3rd-6th, I think.  That ended up being a few hundred students.  We experienced some technical problems that almost had me doing the assembly without any visuals, but a number of technical wizards got together and willed my laptop to work with the school’s projector.  Things went smoothly from then on and we told a story about two heroes mining for cheese on the moon when a villain, bitter at their success, ate all the cheese and was thereafter blown up, spraying previously injested cheese all over the kids.  In spite of the mess, teachers and administrators all seemed happy I’d come, and I spent longer than I anticipated signing books for students, teachers, and even one parent.  Special thanks to everyone at the school, especially Principal Kissell for the invitation. 

The next morning I drove to Jordan Ridge Elementary for their first ever author day.  This was a surprisingly big event that the school pulled off flawlessly.  There were a number of authors there in addition to myself: Ann Cannon, Kristen Crow, M’Lin Rowley, Virginia Smith, and my friend Jessica Day George, who is completely deserving of the reputation of red-headed women (in all good and scary ways).  We each addressed two grade levels, one at a time in two sessions.  I got third and fourth graders, which I think is very suitable given my maturity level.  It was quite a shindig with breakfast and a catered lunch and everything.  I’m sure that those of us fortunate enough to be invited to participate had far more fun than the students, but hopefully they enjoyed it too.  This event was so complex that there are more people to thank than I even know their names, but I can’t leave out Pam Onederra, organizer and the school’s literacy specialists.  She went above and beyond with this, believe me. 

And, of course, I must thank my wonderful guide Meridenne (let me know if I spelled this wrong!) yet pronounced Meredith, a very sharp girl who wants to be an editor when she grows up.  A decade from now some writers are going to be awfully lucky to work with you, and when you’re famous in writing circles I’ll tell all my friends, “Hey, she showed me around her school once.  Yeah, I know you’re jealous.”  And they will be.  Very.