influences – Weird 8

Stranger Things is Honest in its Love of the 80s and D&D

Finished watching Stranger Things. Loved it, but I’m pretty much the ideal audience. It’s not for everyone, but like True Detective Season 1, it rises above and entertains better than most.

But hey, some people are sticklers and parse everything out, looking for every possible fault before deciding from on high whether something is good or bad. Some people need to make their opinion bigger and more important than the art they are commenting on. Here, cruising along in the 21st century, everybody thinks they know better than artists who pour everything they have into a project.

Me? I want to be entertained. But more importantly I want to be entertained honestly. I want to see clarity of vision, risk taking, and art with boundaries. I want to see love and passion for a project, brought to life with care and creativity. And while I loath both laziness and complacency, I mostly hate those who compromise a vision because they refuse to be honest. With themselves. With their characters. With their audience.

You may find fault in Stranger Things because it’s not perfect. You may not like it because you can’t relate to the characters. You may think its horror-SF trappings cliche and dated. And that’s fine. Good for you.

But I liked Stranger Things. A lot. Because it was written for me, and not just 12-years-old and playing D&D in the early 80s me, who is basically a composite of many of the main characters. But also the me who is a father who loves his child and would do anything for her. And also the fanboy me who likes to be entertained.

And finally for the writer-me, who wants people with my upbringing and interests to be successful and create more cool stuff. The show is honest with its characters, its setting, and, most importantly, its audience. It gives us everything it’s got and asks for little in return. So yeah, I liked Stranger Things. A lot.

I hope you do too.

The D&D TV Show was Horrid but Necessary

For a brief minute in my ADHD-rattled, socially-awkward childhood, things actually seemed to come together. Sixth grade for me was a last great height of childhood innocence and fun before the truly disapproving and unhappy adolescence (heralded by arriving at middle school) sucked the wind of out my sails, and one of the main components of all that fun was all the great role-playing materials I got to play with during that time.

The years of 1982-1983 were a time of tremendous growth for the tabletop RPG industry, and I was lucky enough to bathe in all of its nerdly glory. I had all the AD&D books, many of the adventures, and played regularly with a few of my friends (though most of my time was still relegated to sitting alone in my room, rolling up characters and creating dungeons). There was a peak moment where I had all the toys and wonders of childhood (which still included Legos and Star Wars figures), as well as stacks and stacks of AD&D books, dice and modules, all at my command. Reagan’s economy was in full swing and my upper middle class family had disposable income that gave me access to all the new RPGs starting to come out of TSR, games with crazy cool names like Top Secret, Gamma World, and Gangbusters.

Imagine my surprise, when, much to my delight, a D&D television show was announced in the summer of 1983, right as I was unknowingly transferring from child to adolescent. How cool is that? A TV show based on my favorite game! Things could not get any better.

In hindsight, maybe the baby unicorn should have been a tipoff

Of course, as we all know, the D&D TV show, which ran for three seasons and had 27 episodes, was pretty much crap. And I rediscovered how total crap the show was recently when I borrowed the entire TV series from the local library and sat down to watch it with my 10 year old daughter, hoping that a) the show was much better than I remember it, and b) her blossoming tastes in TV would be more open to liking this ancient relic than my cynical old man soul would (she does, after all, like The Phantom Menace — clearly I’ve failed somewhere). Neither, unfortunately, came to pass.

Because, quite frankly, the show doesn’t hold up to any discrete sense of viewership, especially now, in our golden age of TV. Even 30+ years ago, it was clear that the TV show was written around the structure necessary for a TV show: 22 minute format, standard characters with simple characteristics, and the need for neat and tidy resolution at the end of every show. And there was no dungeon delving, no tavern introductions, no inventory management, and every character had only one (just one!) magic item that allowed them to navigate whatever conundrum the Dungeon Master allowed the group to get into.

Oh yes, this is perhaps the strangest component of the show — the Dungeon Master is an actual character in the show! Just to quickly reprise the premise of the show (which is covered in the 30 second series introduction but otherwise never examined in detail): six kids go on the Dungeons & Dragons amusement park ride, which magically transports them into the realm of the Dungeon Master, where they are transmuted into different characters in an attempt to get back home. They each get one magic item and are put in various classes (Ranger, Barbarian…), and the DM shows up every episode as they fight Tiamat and Venger, the main villain, in whatever wackiness the DM throws at them.

Not someone I would allow my children to “play make believe” with

Back in the 1980s, we quickly realized that the D&D TV show was a scam. Sure, it was great that our favorite hobby was now a national TV show, but there was very little in common between the two. Sure, we watched it because that’s what we all did back then — watch as much TV as possible. But there was always a nagging sense of loss opportunity after every show when, after Uni the Unicorn gets lost, or Presto the Magician pulls something wacky from his hat, that kids who knew nothing about D&D would come away with the wrong understand of the show.

So now, after my daughter gave up on the show for more exciting territory (who knew there was a new Inspector Gadget TV show?), we returned the DVDs to the library and moved on down the path of memory lane. But something about the D&D TV show stuck in my head, and it wasn’t the world map that supposedly portrayed a world where these six adventurers are presumably still stuck.

I’m guessing the missing booklet is still in someone’s bathroom To-Read pile

Fact is, regardless of the quality of the show, the D&D TV show was totally necessary in the early 80s to exploit the growing interest in table-top RPGs, and while we don’t really know the impact it had (positive or not) on the hobby, certainly there must be some people who it helped bring to the table. Well, it does actually seem that a lot of people really, really liked the show, and there must be a thread between sitting a 10 year old down in front of the TV and his (or hers, but probably his) asking his parents to buy the Basic Ruleset. Remember that the 1980s weren’t a very friendly time for RPGs, and for D&D in particular. So having a TV show based on the game was a bit risky (and, strangely, risque too) and probably even fueled a bit of the backlash.

But here we are, so many decades later, with D&D still strong, and the not-aging gracefully show still available for a trip or two down memory lane. And yes, it’s bad. Not horrible, but not anywhere near the quality of TV that we’ve grown accustomed to. Yet with all the sophistication and violence in our TV shows today, it’s nice to know there’s still some easy way to introduce younger children to the hobby. Whether you pick it up at your library or cheap on Amazon, the Dungeons and Dragons show is a fascinating view into where we’ve come from.

3 Non-Writing Influences to My Writing

In reading Jeff Vandermeer’s “Booklife,” (which is by far one of my favorite writing books and I shall write up a review when I finish it) he talks about identifying the non-writing influences on your writing. The goal is to find those people/artists that indirectly affect your writing by seeking out indirect methods of influence. Jeff is a big sports fan, so his influences are athletes, which is such a different perspective than my own that I had go through the same exercise.

For anyone who has known me or read this blog for any length of time, you know that music is very important. So clearly at least two of my influences would be musicians and most likely drummers. In fact, so much of my life is influenced by music I could easily say all these influences are musicians, but I wanted to push myself to look somewhere else. It didn’t work.

1. Neil Peart, drummer: As the greatest drummer of all time (and the lyricist for Rush), it’s easy to overstate Peart’s influence on both writing and drumming. And though many people find his lyrics overwrought and too thinky, it’s actually his drumming that has a huge influence on my writing. Here’s the thing about Peart’s drumming and how it got to be so good — he has a massive imagination and creativity in his parts, but he always makes sure those parts are interesting to him. And THEN, he has these massive chops to pull off just about anything. Talk about a combination that I would love as a writer: to have a one-of-a-kind imagination that I use to keep myself interested, buoyed by a strength to just make it happen. Actually, that sounds like my favorite writer Iain Banks. Hm.

2. Terry Chambers, drummer: We call Chambers the “meat and potatoes” drummer. As the original drummer for XTC, Chambers played on their three essential albums “Drums and Wires,” “Black Sea” and “English Settlement.” That weird backhanded rhythm on Making Plans for Nigel? That’s Chambers. He has an amazing strength that is usually reflected in his four-on-the-floor — that chugging rhythm when the bass drum is hitting all four beats in a measure — but he also has an amazing range of power that is best illustrated on the English Settlement album. This record is a bit of a mess. The first side (back when we had LP records) contains perhaps the greatest five songs in a row; a pop masterpiece that very few people have ever replicated. But from there, the record has another ten songs that vary in tempo and rhythms and don’t always work. However the drums are always very interesting and never miss their beats. See, when we talk about “meat and potatoes” we’re talking about how Chambers never misses the fundamentals. As the listener, you never worry about where the beat is and there is always a drum beat to guide you through the song, even if in some backhanded way (like on Nigel). Chambers understands that a drummer doesn’t have to be fancy (but can be creative) to do his job. I think that’s a great MO for a writer as well.

3. James Murphy, musician/record label owner/DJ: Murphy is best known for being the one-man band behind LCD Soundsystem, but he’s also known for running DFA Records and being a great DJ in his own right. So he’s a master of dance music and understands what works and what doesn’t — great. But here’s why he’s such a strong influence on me: when LCD was alive, Murphy would write and perform his own songs in the studio, and then take his own band (“the world’s best LCD Soundsystem cover band in the world” he would say) on the road, and they would translate all of his electronic music into music played by people’s hands. The implications of this musically are impressive, but let’s transplant that to writing and see what comes out. Imagine writing a novel, by yourself in your room, and publishing it. Great, nice work. Now go and hire six people to work as voice and Foley artists to perform your book with you on tour. The idea is staggering, imaginative and embodies true art — to create a unique experience that the reader/viewer will never forget. Damn.

This has been a very powerful and fun exercise (especially at 530 in the morning) to open my mind to all of my influences. Which non-writers influence your writing?

A Year to Say Goodbye

Just about one year ago, my favorite author Iain Banks died of cancer. Before he died, a site was setup to let people post messages to him, which he tried to read before his time ran out.

His cancer and subsequent death came very quickly and I don’t think I ever took the time to say goodbye. But as a good friend of mine recently reminded me, there is always time to say goodbye. Now seems like a good day…

Dear Mr Banks,

Long before I read your books, I wanted to write weird, crazy stories. It’s something that’s lived in me all my life, but I never knew what it truly meant. I couldn’t see what it would take to sit down, take all these strange and wonderful ideas in my mind, and commit them to paper. To bring it all together and have it come together into something someone else would not only want to read, but to also transform imagination and creativity. We read to escape, yes, but we also read to be inspired by authors whose vision resonates with us. We love authors that not only tell amazing stories, but allow their personalities to become part of their work.

Twenty years ago, I lived in Glasgow for six months, living with another aspiring author (Neil Williamson) who shared with me a number of new authors, including yourself, Neal Stephenson, and Michael Marshall Smith. Again, good writing does not just lead us to sharing a good story, but also brings enthusiasm for that writer. Finding a new author with any number of books is like winning the lottery – you now have a back catalog of imagination and creativity to pour through again and again, returning to a well that continues to provide a connection for the rest of your life.

This is what I felt like after finishing The Wasp Factory, like I had won the lottery and found a writer and his books that could continue to reward and inspire my imagination. Then I read The Bridge and my life was changed. That was the book that I had wanted to write all my life, a strange concoction of amnesia, 20-something angst, and dream-state that proved to me that I could write any story I wanted. You had cracked the code for me.

Returning to the states, I found your books hard to find, but over the 1990s collected most of them so that I could not stop talking about you. All my friends know you are my favorite author, and many of them became fans of yours as well. The connection had been made, and you had yourself a lifetime fan.

So it was with great sadness that I heard of your illness. My friends sent me emails and texts because, again, they knew how important to me you were. But I didn’t know what to say to you, how to express my deepest gratitude to you for your work. Because it wasn’t just that you wrote The Wasp Factory, The Bridge, The Crow Road and A Song of Stone (my favorites), but it was the sheer amount of work that you put into your writing.

If you had written four or five books, you would have still been my favorite author. But you did so much more than that. Your work ethic and ability to write and write and write – that is what truly inspired me. As an aspiring writer, I always have more writing to do. I know that. But what you helped me see was that the authors that I admire the most (you, Philip K Dick, Kurt Vonnegut Jr.) all built careers writing and writing and then writing more. You refused to get caught in the pretentious headspace of considering your work too precious to let go – you knew and proved that the best writers write and leave their works for others to judge, because there is always more writing to do.

This is the gift you gave me – setting the bar high, leading by example, showing us that a writer’s job is to write, nothing else. You gave us dozens of books over a 30 year career that 99% of writers will never – and can never – replicate, just by sheer effort alone.

And so that is what I will miss most. I always hoped to meet you in person, but now you are gone and so your fans must move on with what you have already provided. Fortunately for us, it is a lifetime of stories to be read and read again. Your imagination excites, but your work ethic inspires. You showed us the way by giving the world the ultimate gift: art, deep and transformative, that we can experience again and again. And again.

Thank you so much. I will miss picking up your newest book. But I will not miss your work, as my bookshelf has everything I need to read your stories. Again.

Rest in peace.

Dave

Max Barry Interview

Nine years ago I sent out a chance email for a shot to interview one of my favorite authors, Max Barry. Just that the guy would take time out to answer an email from a fan like this is amazing. Clearly he’s awesome. Read:

Update October 2004

Pie Driver interviews Max Barry

When you were 12 years old, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I wanted to be the newsreader on TV. That guy really seemed to have his shit together.

What’s your daily writing regiment?

I roll out of bed about 7:15am. I iron my wife’s clothes for the day (she’s a school teacher), because yes, I am just that sensitive. Then I go into my study and start writing. I stop when the words do, or when I start to feel faint from hunger, both of which usually happen around 11 o’clock. Sometimes I write in the afternoon, but more often I do all my creative stuff for the day before noon.

Do you outline before or during your writing? While Syrup has a more evolving storyline, Jennifer Government seems more structured. How are your story-telling techniques evolving?

I start with an initial idea, usually about a couple of characters and what they might want to do, and go from there. I very rarely know what’s going to happen more than a couple of chapters in advance. That helps the story from becoming too predictable, and, more importantly, keeps me guessing. I can’t think of anything more boring than planning out an entire novel, then having to write it. As much as possible, I try to avoid ending up pushing characters around like chess pieces, trying to get them to hit particular plot points. I much prefer they take the lead.

It’s funny that Jennifer Government seems more structured. That’s only because I rewrote it so hard; those story threads didn’t come together so neatly in the first draft, I promise you that. This is the downside of not doing outlines.

What has made Syrup and Jennifer Government keepers as opposed to the other novels that were shelved?

Mainly that they were not crap. That’s a big reason. Crap novels, onto the bonfire. Good novels, I call my agent.

How did it feel to finish Jennifer Government and yet have no publisher want to publish it?

My SYRUP publisher (Penguin Putnam) didn’t want it; other publishers were much more receptive. But yeah, it was pretty shocking. When I first got published, I felt so pathetically grateful to everyone that helped me there that I swore I would always stick by them, even if I became hugely famous and popular. They were all so very nice. But they had to make a business decision, and they made it. Tough for me, because I seriously thought my career was over. And I’m very attached to my career. But it was a rough time for Penguin Putnam financially. If I’d been in their shoes I might have cut me, too.

Has Jennifer Government been a success? By what standards? Do you think it will help sell your next book?

Any novel that allows me to keep doing this for a full-time job is a success to me. Getting good reviews is nice, too. In terms of sales, yes, Jennifer Government has done great. I get a stack of fan e-mail, which is just brilliant.

I have a feeling that the sales of novels tend to reflect the quality of the one before them. If you like this one, you buy the next one; if you don’t, you won’t. So very possibly Jennifer Government was just a reaction to Syrup. But hopefully not. Hopefully my next one will get out there and do even better.

Has NationStates been a success? What the future plans for it? Did this evolve as a game or a marketing ploy?

Oh yeah, very much so. I created it as a game to hopefully attract 1,000 people, and so far somewhere it’s had around 400,000 players. I’m not exactly sure what to do with it, since it has become such a big deal all by itself — many, many more people have played the game than read the book — but I’d like to do something.

The idea for NationStates.net — that you get to see what a country based on your idea of perfect politics would look like, and play with it — was one I’d had for a while. And it tied in to the concept behind Jennifer
Government. But I probably wouldn’t have ever coded it unless I could justify that time and expense as a way to promote my novels.

Who do you see as your peers, whether in story-telling or as a novelist? Any authors that you model yourself after?

It really depends on the novel. Two writers I adore, though, are Neal Stephenson and Chuck Palahniuk.

Has being a young author been an asset or a detriment to establishing your career?

I think it’s an asset on the promotional side. The media is definitely more interested in talking to young authors. But as for the actual writing, I think I’ll be creating better novels with another ten or fifteen years’
experience. I sure hope so, anyway. If I’m not, I haven’t been paying attention.

Now that making shit up is your profession, what do you do for fun?

The thing is, though, making shit up is fun. I have that rare and amazing thing: a fun job. But these days, when I’m not writing, I’m trying to maintain NationStates.net. That thing is a real time sucker.

What’s so bad about being Australian?

There seem to be an awful lot of us, wriggling our way into the bastions of American culture. It started with Aussie actors, then came directors, now we’re all over the place. You can’t take five steps in the US entertainment industry without tripping over an Australian. So I apologize for being yet another one.

Max.