Belief is here!!! Available now for the Kindle. The paperback will be coming soon. And for my patented end zone dance, I've made Legitimacy available for free Friday and Saturday (May 22-23, 2015).
Time to kick off Book Three. Enjoy.
Don't Quit Your Day Job
…and other advice I didn't take
5.21.2015
2.26.2015
How to Write a Book Blurb
A book blurb is, hands down, the most important bit of
writing that an author/publisher will ever do. Why? Because those few succinct
paragraphs are the sole reason that anyone will ever want to shell out good,
hard-earned money for your book. Your cover art, your reputation, your previous
work, even the very text of the book are all secondary and should be treated as
such. Your own mother will not purchase a copy of your novel if the blurb sounds
lame. Remember, the blurb will be printed on the back of the paperback,
hand-painted on the inside flap of the dust jacket, scrawled in blood onto
desperate never-to-be-sent agent query letters, etched permanently onto Amazon’s
platinum and apocalypse-proof record of your book page, and tattooed on your
forearm to be consulted at a moment’s notice whenever a new acquaintance casually
asks what your book is about. In short: Do it right. Your entire writing career
hinges on this single creative act.
But first: What is a blurb? A blurb is a series of
meticulously selected words, arranged into sentences and paragraphs, that
perfectly describe the content of a book. The blurb should capture the book’s tone,
important themes, main characters, central conflict, and your distinct writing
voice in exactly 219 words. The best blurbs evoke a physical reaction from the
reader, which vary by genre (e.g., horror = chills, sci-fi = childlike wonder, literature
= smugness, romance/erotica = …).
Here’s how to write the perfect book blurb:
Step 1: Write a book.
Now, don’t get the wrong idea. This is an important step,
but you shouldn’t spend too much time on it. Or at least not any more time than
you spend writing the blurb. Consider it a warm-up for the main event. But,
still, it must be done. By definition, the blurb describes a book; therefore,
the book must exist.
Step 2: Read other blurbs.
To write the best blurb, it is recommended that you read
every blurb that has ever been written. Begin with all the books in your home
and your friends’ homes. Once you’ve done that, read every blurb on Amazon,
B&N, Kobo, and iBooks. Then proceed to your local bookstores and libraries,
should they still exist in your community. Be sure to pay particular attention
to books in your genre and all the other genres. For best results, it is
recommended that you create a spreadsheet to track key blurb attributes,
including any relevant sales data.
Step 3: Read advice about writing blurbs.
Everyone has good advice about how to write the perfect
blurb. Blogs provide a deep well of ideas for what works and what doesn’t.
Don’t skimp on this step. You don’t want to miss out on the synergistic fugue
state created after days of turning blue links to purple.
Step 4: Prepare you workspace.
Clean your desk. Charge your laptop. Put the teakettle on.
Run to the store for provisions—salty and sweet. Vacuum and dust your home. Set
a celebratory bottle of champagne on ice for later. And, finally, put a framed 8×10
photo of your favorite author near your keyboard or writing blotter.
Step 5: Write your blurb.
If you’ve done your homework, this should be an easy
process. Simply summarize your characters, the setting, the conflict, and
general atmosphere of your story in a way that will compel anyone of any demographic
to stop what they’re doing, hand a fifty-dollar bill to a bookseller, and
mumble at them to keep the change as they crack the spine and flip to page one.
Avoid adverbs.
Step 6 (optional): Take advantage of beta readers.
It’s a good idea to ask others to read your blurb and offer
comments or suggestions. It is recommended that these be close friends, family
members, and people who get you.
Never ask employees or children for their opinion. Readers of your previous
books may be consulted if you have their home addresses. It is recommended that
you do not consult other authors, as this may result in them asking you to
critique their blurbs in return.
Step 7: Edit your final blurb.
Take a few moments to look up every word you’ve written in
the dictionary to ensure proper usage.
Step 8: Enjoy.
Congratulations. Your blurb is done. Relax and prepare to
reap the rewards. And if you’re looking for your, spouse, pets, or kids, they’ve
probably been hiding under the bed since step 5. Lure them out with ice cream
or Beggin’ Strips as appropriate.
1.23.2015
Believe the hype
I haven't posted here in a while. I've been pouring my energies into finishing Belief.
But in celebration of Belief's impending completion Legitimacy: Book One of the Vanilla Cycle will be free for the Kindle all weekend long (Jan 24-Jan 25, 2015) on Amazon.
Here's a convenient link.
So spread the word and enjoy. And thank you to everyone who has already read and reviewed Legitimacy. As Monkey might say, "You're my bestest friend in the whole solar system."
But in celebration of Belief's impending completion Legitimacy: Book One of the Vanilla Cycle will be free for the Kindle all weekend long (Jan 24-Jan 25, 2015) on Amazon.
Here's a convenient link.
So spread the word and enjoy. And thank you to everyone who has already read and reviewed Legitimacy. As Monkey might say, "You're my bestest friend in the whole solar system."
6.10.2014
My Writing Process Blog Tour
I’ve been tagged. By which, of course, I mean that I woke up
in my backyard with a floppy plastic card dangling from my earlobe and a radio
transmitter affixed around my neck. It wasn’t painful, but I’d still like to
have a word with fellow Billings author and inimitable raconteur Craig
Lancaster (www.craig-lancaster.com) for giving my name, location, and species
to the alien biologists who are clearly responsible. But why do aliens care
about such things as the work habits of individual human authors? The answer
should terrify us all…
ZZZzzztttt.
Ow. The collar just shocked me. I think I’d better get on
with answering their specific questions.
1)
What are you working on?
I’m currently writing Belief:
Book Two of the Vanilla Cycle, the sequel to Legitimacy. I've chronicaled the state and origins of this book in this previous post.
Belief picks up the
story a year after the events of Legitimacy.
CEO Matthew Valdosky has been called before a UN Investigative Committee to
answer for the Valdosky Company’s role in the Angel-37 asteroid colony disaster.
But before he testifies, he learns from an unexpected source that accepting the
blame and resigning will play right into the hands of Dwight Yarrow and the
NAIAD group conspiracy. Changing his mind may not be that easy, though. Matthew
has his own secrets to hide — secrets that could shake civilization to its very
foundations.
2)
How does your work differ from others of its genre?
I write science fiction. I love science fiction. However,
with the exception of a few key authors, I don’t actually follow the genre very
closely, nor do I adhere to any trend or subgenre. My reading list tends to be
very eclectic. I’ll read almost anything and seek out good stories anywhere I
can. I’m often inspired by works outside my genre. Most notably (or
egregiously), I borrowed liberally from the plot and themes of W. Somerset
Maugham’s Of Human Bondage as I wrote
the character of Teague Werres for Legitimacy.
I prefer to write hard, near-future science fiction, where
the technologies seem plausible and the future history feels possible. However,
I’m not a scientist. Rather than fill the worlds I create with minute scientific
details, I allow my characters to experience new technologies as would any
consumer at any point in history. Yes, certain technologies may impact my
characters’ lives, but I work hard to let my characters drive their stories.
Science fiction is at its worst when it’s the other way around.
3)
Why do you write what you do?
As a reader, I cut my teeth on science fiction, so it feels
like home. But I’ve found that sci-fi is a wonderful tool for safely exploring many
facets of the human experience. Writers can explore even the touchiest of
subjects without breaching taboos or causing direct offense. And, done well,
sci-fi rises above simple allegory and can touch off discussions that actually
impact humanity’s future. I would love to start one of those discussions.
I also love epic, sweeping tales, but I’m as much a
historian as a scientist. Science fiction conveniently frees me to sprawl my
stories across time and space without having to adhere to all those pesky
historical facts.
4)
How does your writing process work?
Like a charm… ZZZZzzzttt. Sorry.
I’ve been teaching myself the craft of writing for the past few
years, and I’ve experimented with many strategies for getting through a manuscript.
I’ve yet to hit on a single successful process. I outline when I feel I need
to, but just as often, I write from my head (or the seat of my pants, as the
writers’ trope goes). I begin with a large sense of each book: the cast of
characters, the basic plot, backstories, themes, and where I’d like it to end.
On my first pass, I tend to include everything, and as such, I create bloated
first drafts that contain way, way more than will ever see a Kindle screen.
I’ve tried to write leaner, but when I’m flowing, it all just comes out, and it
just feels wrong to staunch anything.
I know it’s cliché, but it’s during the revising phase that
the real writing happens for me. This was one of the toughest things for me to
learn. When I started writing, I wanted my prose to flow forth, needing only a
snip here and a tuck there. I hated the idea of touching my words once they
were on the page; they seemed so right at the time. But I’ve learned to hone,
trim, cut, paste, slash, burn, gnash, gnaw, chew, spit, and polish, and have
grown unafraid to do whatever I need to do to get things right. And now, after
having gone through the process a couple of times, I live by it. In fact, don’t
tell anyone, but I enjoy revision as much as, if not more than, filling a blank
page.
This can be a slow process, but I’m also beginning to
understand more what works and what doesn’t. Each new first draft is just a
little less onerous than the last.
I’m suddenly getting a message. The aliens are telling me
that I’m supposed to pass on the names of a few other fellow authors for
tagging. I sure hope they’re not going to come down and probe me for this, but
I’m going to have to defer this now. I’ve put some feelers out, but I’m leaving
on vacation soon, and this will post before I can include their names. I’ll
update with a few names when I’m able.
So there, aliens, I’ve done what you asked, and have
provided you with the data you require for your nefarious study. Now, please
come back. This collar’s getting kind of itchy.
Craig Lancaster's alien study data can be read here: http://www.craig-lancaster.com/2014/06/05/waiting-for-the-wait-to-stop-my-writing-process/ He, in turn, was tagged by Montana author David Abrams, whose entry can be found here: http://davidabramsbooks.blogspot.com/2014/05/screen-staring-and-hand-cramps-my-stop.html
I’d also like to acknowledge author Marsheila Rockwell, a friend
of my wife’s, for kindly tagging me with this meme back in March. Of course, I
promptly neglected to actually write anything then, but I thank her for not
setting aliens on me for her trouble. Her write-up can be found here: http://mrockwell.livejournal.com/172427.html
11.13.2013
NaNoWriMo 2013 Update: HALFWAY!!!!
Today marks the halfway point in the 2013 National Novel Writing Month, and I have written 12,142 words—exactly half of the 50,000
minimum required to “win.”
Now, I can hear you all scratching your heads, checking your
calendars, doing a bit of subtraction (let’s see, make that a 4, carry the pi,
solve for x if the train leaves the station at 7 p.m.…) And I know what you’re
going to say. “Ha, ha, ha. Silly word-writing man, you can’t do math. And
November has thirty days. Don’t you remember the little poem?” But you’re just
going to have to trust me. This is the halfway day.
It’s been a rough start.
I’ll explain, but first a confession: I am not writing a
brand-new book. In fact, this will be about the fourth time I have written this
particular story, and it will be the second time I have actually finished it.
Many years ago, this tale was the very first manuscript I ever proudly handed
to my wife as a completed first draft. (My pride was quickly pounded against
the rocky shores of reality. Boy, did it stink.) It’s had two different titles,
not including the unprintable epithets I have given it in my head. And it, not Legitimacy, was originally going to be Book One of the Vanilla Cycle. Imagine that.
So why did I think it would be a good idea to attempt to whip
out a shiny new first draft during the winsome, tossed-salad days of NaNoWriMo
2013? I’ll give you a clue. It starts with an N. Not naiveté, although that’s a
good guess. Nor was it narcissism. I’m still kind of noob, but I’m no novice. No,
I’m telling you, it was NEED.
Not only was it time to write this—it will be Book Two of the Vanilla Cycle—but I absolutely have to get
it out of my head, to set it in concrete once and for all, and finally breathe.
I’ve had this story in me for way too long. But even after myriad attempts I’ve
never found quite the right way to tell it. So I’m making myself finally do it.
Like I said, it’s been a rough start.
It’s taken me twelve days, but it seems to be coming
together. I’ve forced myself to wrestle with most of the knottier details, and
there’s an ever-expanding, increasingly smelly graveyard of darlings buried in
the backyard. I’m at last finding how to express the day-to-day,
minute-to-minute, details of these characters’ lives in a way that conveys the
Story—the one with a capital S, the one you don’t realize a novel is telling
you. I think this was the trick that I’d misplaced, or nearly forgotten in the
bottom of my toolbox, during months of nonstop revision and editing. It feels
good to finally be stretching my noveling muscles again.
So, yep, I’m calling this the halfway day. I’ve expended
fully one-half of the energy required to cross the finish line on time. To this
point it’s mostly been my frustration, fear, and fury fueling the fire. Sure
the word count math may be fuzzy, but I’m finally feeling good—the last half of the month is going to be fun.
10.09.2013
Gravity sucked.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I was at least three or four of the
following things: blown away by the technical achievement, on the edge of my
seat for the whole ninety minutes, deeply thankful that someone seemed to be
making every effort at realism, forgetting I was watching a Sandra Bullock
vehicle, wishing I had one of those EVA jetpacks, instinctively dodging the
best 3-D shrapnel I’ve ever seen.
Here's the trailer, for those who haven't seen...
But still, Gravity sucked.
I’ll explain. First, let me add the obligatory ***Spoiler
Alert***. Although, in truth, there’s little to spoil. The premise of the movie
explains the entire plot: Astronauts face the dangers of physics and the harsh
realities of space during a “space junk” disaster in low Earth orbit. You can
pretty much thread out the disaster movie tropes from there. Which leads me to
my first complaint:
Gravity is not a
movie. It’s an experience. If anything, it’s a theme park ride relocated to
your local multiplex. In fact, if the Universal Studios people aren’t
frantically designing a Gravity! ride (ála EPCOT’s Mission:Space starring Gary Sinise) then they’re missing a serious
opportunity. Theme park attractions like these make every attempt to be
immersive: You’re the astronaut, you’re the subject of the experiment, you’ve
been called on to solve the mystery/fight the battle/brave the trial. Gravity was nothing if not immersive,
partly due to the amazing cinematography and sound design, but also because the
main character was a near blank, easy to imprint one’s own perceptions upon.
She had a shallow backstory (that I couldn’t help but think might have
disqualified her to be an astronaut based on a psychological evaluation) and an
even shallower character arc. In the end her arc mattered little; it’s really
your arc that matters in this experience. Does this really make a movie? Like
any other good theme park attraction, it left me temporarily breathless, but
ultimately looking for the next ride.
My first comment as I left the theater was, “The most
unbelievable part of the whole movie was that the U.S. was still flying the
space shuttle.” Ha ha ha. But overall, Gravity’s
portrayal of the American space program left a sour taste in my mouth. At the
beginning of the movie, I thought, “Awesome, we’re still flying. USA. USA. USA.”
But the details began to bug me. What were the Americans doing up there? Swapping
video cards on the Hubble? (And when, of course, it doesn’t boot up, they
resort to blowing the dust off the circuit boards like some greasy Geek Squad
counter jockey. Right.) Testing a new hyperactive EVA jetpack and aching to
one-up the Russians? Showing off their witty, but multi-cultural,
multi-gendered crew? The whole setup was filled with the reasons people hate
the space program in general and manned space missions in particular. The
public hates failures, from minor technical snafus to major crew loss
disasters; propaganda stunts, from quiet nods to diversity to broad
geopolitical hat-waving; and tax dollars spent on any of it, from cowboy
showboating to incremental and arcane scientific achievements. It was all there
on the screen, enough to stoke the anti-space exploration argument for years.
Why spend so much money, risk so many people, and expend so much effort on
something as tenuous as a nearly useless foothold in LEO, when the masses
have such big problems here on Earth?
The answer to that is that our foothold on our own planet is
just as tenuous—which brings me to my last point. The broader takeaway message of
Gravity, in my opinion, was supposed
to be one of hope: Life on Earth is fragile and unsuited to survive in much of
the universe, but it is precious and unique. And like the first creatures to
struggle out of the sea onto dry land (to use the movie’s own crude
evolutionary metaphor) we are experiencing our first gasping pains on the new
shoals of outer space. We will face difficulties, and some will not survive,
but what we learn from these mistakes paves the way for the future. At least I’d
like to think that’s the message of the movie.
However I fear that the message will be misread by
casual viewers. Gravity can easily be
seen as an anti-space program screed. Viewed a certain way, it posits the
certain eventuality of such a disaster as a warning, and suggests that these
fragile monuments to nationalism (the space shuttles and space stations) aren’t
worth the effort. Mother Earth is our beautiful home, it exclaims; that’s where
we evolved, and that’s where we should stay. You ain’t never gettin’ me up in
one of those deathtraps! But this is a short-term view of our species, life in
general on our planet, and our place in the universe.
Our planet may seem enormous and comforting, but it is no
less an object in space, enslaved by physics, than the least free-floating
suited astronaut. In time it will cook in radiation and burn up on reentry into
the surface of its unforgiving star. On its surface, we exist in a razor-thin
layer that at any moment could be choked to death by a supervolcano or an
asteroid. But not content to wait, we’re almost wantonly destroying the layer on
our own. So what will we choose? To ride it out, Slim Pickens style,
on our
planet to the end. Or can we agree that if we want our children to survive, we
need overcome our doubts and develop space technologies that take our
ecosystems into space, to other planets, and hopefully, someday to other stars?
Did Gravity excite
me to do that? No, and I’m pro-space. That is why Gravity sucked. I worry that it will leave too many in fear,
certain that the problems are insurmountable, and in the end, not really
caring, just looking for the next ride.
9.10.2013
A Writer’s Adventures with Tintin: Episode One--In the Land of Stereotypes
Reviewing: In the Land of the Soviets and Tintin in America
I forgot to warn you. If it’s your first time reading Tintin;
don’t begin at the beginning.
In fact, I recommend that you pretend that these first two (or three) books I’m discussing don’t even exist. Move along. Nothing to see here. Skip right on over to Cigars of the Pharaoh. Once you’ve read the 20 (or 20½) books in the canon two or three times, come back and we’ll talk. We’ll see if you’re ready for In the Land of the Soviets and Tintin in America. In fact, I, lifelong Tintin fan as I am, have never actually read the one book not listed on the back covers, Tintin in the Congo. One, because it was never actually published in the United States and as such was difficult to find before the days of Amazon and eBay, and, two, because I have always feared that it would sour my admiration for Hergé permanently.
In fact, I recommend that you pretend that these first two (or three) books I’m discussing don’t even exist. Move along. Nothing to see here. Skip right on over to Cigars of the Pharaoh. Once you’ve read the 20 (or 20½) books in the canon two or three times, come back and we’ll talk. We’ll see if you’re ready for In the Land of the Soviets and Tintin in America. In fact, I, lifelong Tintin fan as I am, have never actually read the one book not listed on the back covers, Tintin in the Congo. One, because it was never actually published in the United States and as such was difficult to find before the days of Amazon and eBay, and, two, because I have always feared that it would sour my admiration for Hergé permanently.
I won’t detail the specific flaws of these first albums here,
for they are legion—and Wikipedia articles do a fair job of contextualizing
their failings—but a fresh read has given me several takeaway lessons I can use
as an author.
Lesson #1: Write your own way
Tintin had a less-than-auspicious beginning as a tool of
propaganda.
In the late 1920s, George Remi (Hergé) was a young aspiring
cartoonist and illustrator, eager to create a regular strip for a newspaper. He
was taken in by Norbert Wallez, a priest and editor of an extremely right-wing,
if not downright fascist, Catholic newspaper in Belgium and given a chance to
work for the paper’s weekly children’s supplement. While the characters of
Tintin and Snowy seem to be Hergé’s creations, their initial adventures were
not of his design. Wallez directed Tintin closely, choosing his destinations
and dictating his politics—viciously anti-Communist, anti-Semitic,
anti-capitalist, and patriarchal. Like many upstanding Catholic Belgian men of
the time, Hergé accepted these ideas as a matter of course. Tintin’s overt
politics weren’t necessarily controversial, nor did Hergé include them
unwillingly, but without Wallez standing over Hergé’s shoulder, I’m sure that
Tintin’s beginnings would have been much different. I believe that Hergé wanted
to entertain, not to preach or to spout ideology. I’m certain, given his later,
more researched, work, that Hergé would have preferred for Tintin to explore
the world, to investigate, and to learn from its people, and not to venture
forth with a closed mind and unshakeable assumptions.
Wallez’s hand is particularly evident in Soviets. Young reporter Tintin sets out
from Belgium with the sole aim to expose the evils of the Stalinist revolution
and regime in the USSR. Fine, yes, they were evil, but the misadventures that
befall Tintin expose nothing of the true situation. They paint everyone as
either wholly evil or wretched victims. There is no middle ground, no attempt
to reflect reality. Soviets was the
only Tintin adventure that Hergé refused to redraw and color in his eventual
classic style for publication. He himself called it embarrassing propaganda. I
think this reflects a possibility that he knew that the work wasn’t exactly
his. It had been his pen on the paper, but it was not what he would have
written.
As an author I feel pressure from many fronts—from my wife to
random Internet commenters. And it seems like everyone has some idea of what type
of book I should write. “That Dave Barry is funny, you should write like him.”
“Fifty Shades of Twilight, but set in a beachfront town in North Carolina.” “Must
your characters swear so much?” “…and then there should be a zombie attack!”
But if I were to write solely to appease any of those voices, or heaven forbid,
all of them at once, the result would not be my work. I doubt it would have much
merit. And I wouldn’t believe in it. I have to write the books that I would
want to read. My own books, in my own voice.
What would Tintin’s first adventures been like if Hergé had
been able to work without Wallez’s hand on his shoulder?
Lesson #2: Stereotypes are lazy
Critics have long savaged Hergé for the excessive use of
stereotyped characters, if not outright racism. The first two (three) Tintin
albums are full of them: from bomb-chucking, trigger-happy Bolshevik devils; to
money-obsessed, hook-nosed Jewish shopkeepers; to half-naked, fat-lipped, childish
Congolese natives; to hatchet-burying, rain-dancing Native Americans. But I
don’t think Hergé was intentionally trying to spew misinformation or foment
hatred; he was simply naïve. He was a product of his generation, trying to
please his employer, and probably on tight deadlines that gave little time for
research. He used what he knew of far-off places and people, which
unfortunately was very little and was sourced from such unworthy sources as
Hollywood movies and propaganda pamphlets. Hergé stereotyped the countries
Tintin visits as well, and the end results are more checklist-style travelogues
than real stories. And as such, these first books barely fit with the others.
Beginning with Cigars
of the Pharaoh, but especially with The
Blue Lotus, (and not coincidentally around the time that Wallez was removed
as editor of the newspaper) Hergé began to do a great deal more research. He
began to talk to natives of the places he intended to write about. And he began
to attempt to reflect the character of the locations more accurately. He paid
attention to real modes of dress (later lampooning his earlier tendencies by
dressing the Thompson Twins in ridiculous and assumptive native costumes). He
began to add background, wherein a city would be populated with realistic
locals going about their daily business. Villains were given actual motives
such as greed, lust for power, or valid political disagreements and were not
portrayed as innately evil. Hergé no longer depicted the locals as naïve
simpletons desperate for Western enlightenment, but neither were they treated
with kid gloves. They became people, some educated, some not, some poor, some
rich, some helpful, some malevolent, and many simply indifferent to Tintin’s
adventures. Tintin had moved from a fantasy into the real world.
Stereotypes are easy to write. We all have a ready
storehouse of such characters. But stereotypes are insulting to readers,
offensive to those portrayed, and, in my opinion, a mark of lazy writing. And,
if one absolutely must make a political point, there are many other less
ham-handed methods. Not every character I write gets a complete dossier, but as
I haul my main cast around the world I try to consider the lives of the various
people they touch. From the taxi driver with a four-word speaking part to the acquaintance
who shows up for a whole chapter, I try to give each character a little depth,
considering gender, age, family background, intentions, what kind of day
they’ve been having, basically whatever might be relevant. This takes a little
time, and perhaps a little research, but I’ve found that such consideration can
create a believable human interaction, and I believe this depth fleshes out the
world I’ve worked so hard to create. I absorbed this lesson from Hergé at an
early age, and it has always stuck with me. Even as a child, I sensed that his stereotypes
were jarring and empty. But when he began to treat everyone as an individual,
Tintin’s world became tangibly and emotionally real.
Lesson #3: Action wins the battle…
So what did these books get right? Why didn’t these racist,
fascist comic strips get pulped into history with the rest of Wallez’s
newspaper? Why am I reading them still, 84 years later?
My guess: They were exciting. Hergé had undeniable talent. Even the crude sketches of Soviets show great promise. The book includes a power-boat chase that might as well be the storyboard for the Venice boat chase in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. And the action is relentless. Tintin never quite escapes any peril, jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire on every other page, until he is left with only his wits, his mettle, and his dog. Like Saturday matinee cliff-hangers, Hergé kept readers dangling for next week’s strip. Will he…? How will he…? Wow.
My guess: They were exciting. Hergé had undeniable talent. Even the crude sketches of Soviets show great promise. The book includes a power-boat chase that might as well be the storyboard for the Venice boat chase in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. And the action is relentless. Tintin never quite escapes any peril, jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire on every other page, until he is left with only his wits, his mettle, and his dog. Like Saturday matinee cliff-hangers, Hergé kept readers dangling for next week’s strip. Will he…? How will he…? Wow.
A writer’s lesson if I’ve ever heard one. Make every scene
matter. Up the stakes. Make the situation just that much more hopeless. Take
away one more escape route. Kick your character down just one more time.
Whether you’re writing bonnet-rippers or war stories, the lesson applies; only
the volume of blood varies.
Lesson #4: …but story wins the war.
Soviets and In America both end with Tintin getting
a ticker-tape parade. But I have always been left wondering, “What for?” All
he’d done for 60-odd pages is to trip almost accidently from one stereotypical
scene to the next. Sure, his life was usually in danger, but like I said
before, the adventures read more like travelogues. And once all of Hergé’s (or
Wallez’s) boxes had been checked, Tintin at last escaped, or finally caught the
gangsters, and that was that. Hurrah?
As a sci-fi writer, this kind of checklist tourism is a real
temptation. I invest a great deal of time inventing the world of my stories.
I’m not careful, it’s easy to want to take my characters everywhere and explore
every detail. Otherwise, what’s the point, right? My first full draft of Legitimacy was over 500,000 words, most
dedicated to this very thing. As a child, Teague lived in the Bangkok of
tourists, not residents. I took characters on actual guided tours of the inner
workings of space stations. I spelled out exactly how vat-grown meat gets from
the factory to an asteroid colony’s freezers. (Don’t ask why.) I described
every technical detail of Gwen’s spacecraft. (I even have the blueprints if you
want to see them. No surprise: They bear a stylistic resemblance to Hergé’s blueprintsfor the rocket in Destination Moon.)
I outlined the rules of zero-G wallyball. Some of these scenes were vaguely
exciting and most told a lot more about certain fringe characters. But in the
long run, was any of it interesting? Perhaps tangentially, but little of it
drove the story. It diluted the problems and buried the conflict. It may have
been messy and cluttered as real life, but it wasn’t anything anyone would want
to read. The story matters more than any technical detail, no matter how dear
to my heart. And the ticker-tape parade at the end means little if not
supported by the rest of the book.
It says a lot to me that, for the rest of the books, Hergé
did away with the parades. Tintin returns from his subsequent adventures with
little fanfare, maybe just a newspaper headline or two. I think Hergé
understood that Tintin didn’t go on adventures for the fame and accolades. And
he must also have realized that people didn’t read Tintin to just casually bear
witness, but to journey with him, no matter how difficult, and somewhere in
there is what story is all about.
Next time: Cigars of
the Pharaoh: The Devil is in the Details
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