Friday, April 24, 2015
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
But despite being a writer and having to do all that comes with the job description, I do a poor job of blogging on a regular basis.
All the modern wisdom about what it takes to make it as a writer in today's world says I'm going about this all wrong. You've got to build an audience, they say. You have to keep your name out there. You have to connect with people. You have to utilize the web -- blogs, social media, discussion forums, etc. -- to establish a readership and contacts and all the rest. It's a vital part of enjoying long-term success.
I agree with that notion, too. This blog post is not going to outline how and why I think that advice is overstated. Honestly, it's probably not. It's IMPORTANT to engage with people. Hell, I've gotten writing opportunities and made important connections thanks to my participation on Internet forums and social media, so I know firsthand how important it can be.
Yet I still fail to do it as much as I should.
Perhaps it's because I already do so much blogging. I ghostwrite for an array of clients, blogging about a dozen different topics every month and making literally dozens of posts during that time. When I don't have a deadline to meet, I prefer to focus my attention on a passion project. Maybe a book about Mad Men or a short story burning a hole in my brain or whatever.
Perhaps it's because Blogger just isn't a very good platform. It looks amateurish. I should get off my butt and add a blog to my website, that way this whole thing looks a little more professional. It would probably cause me to blog more often.
Perhaps it's many things.
But make no mistake, whatever the reason, it's a failure on my part. I'm a writer, and in 2015 a writer should probably be blogging on a semi-regular basis. Maybe not daily, or even weekly, but at least regularly.
Maybe in the days ahead I'll work to do better in this arena.
Of course, "maybe" is a pretty big word.
Thursday, April 02, 2015
I've previously posted albums from my m2 project, which is walls-of-sound music I record at home. So I figured why not roll it back to 2007 for the second m2 record, eight times alone? It's hard to believe I recorded it eight years ago. Actually, released it eight years ago. Some tracks were recorded a decade ago. Still can't wrap my head around that.
I like this one. Some wacky sci-fi authors even use it as writing music.
If you're into this sort of thing, maybe you will, too. Songs are all available for download at the links below:
1) Preparing A Resume (6:43)
2) Creative Endeavors Abandoned (10:32)
3) Tea Leaves (4:55)
4) At Room Temperature They Leave, Don’t Call (6:28)
5) On Air (6:14)
6) Beast From Forbidden Planet (6:05)
7) It’s Lonely Here (2:42)
8) The Ramifications of Answering Machines (13:33)
(For previous postings from this music project, check out Dying Mother, the dialogue of narrow sorrows, Ashes, Six Stories, and The Endless Twelve)
Wednesday, April 01, 2015
I can't really claim to be a zombie fan, though. I am a fan of post-apocalyptic stories. A HUGE fan of them, actually. Stories about survival after society has collapsed have always drawn me in, always will. Earth Abides, The Road, Lucifer's Hammer, Alas, Babylon!, portions of The Stand -- sign me up! So for me, the zombies in The Walking Dead are secondary to my enjoyment. For me it's all about the end of the world.
Plus, there's the whole thing about zombie apocalypses NOT MAKING SENSE and all.
Yes, yes, I understand you have to suspend your disbelief. I get that, and I DO suspend my disbelief. I can accept that in the world of traditional Romero-ian zombie plagues, zombies exist, they eat people, and yada yada. That's all cool by me.
My problem is that zombie plague worlds rarely play by their own rules. It's nickpicky bullshit, but hear me out: You get caught by zombies, they tear you apart and eat you, right?
So how the hell are there so many zombies walking around in the world if they eat everyone they encounter?
'Cause all those millions of zombies can't be people who were bitten but managed to survive until they turned. That just doesn't hold water. And they didn't rise from their graves, either. Zombies can't get through a buried casket. So where did all those zombies come from?
I mean, consider The Walking Dead. The group goes into a school or warehouse or other large building and it invariably had a few dozen zombies in it. How can that be? Based on the way the world works, once those zombies started chewing on people those people getting chewed on are torn up and eat down to pulpy little bits of goop.
It's nitpicky bullshit, I know. Sorry, I can't help it. As nitpicky as it is, it takes me out of zombie stories if those stories are set more than a few weeks after the outbreak, as The Walking Dead now is.
But am I wrong?
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Anyway, prompted by Steven Soderbergh's interesting recasting of Raiders of the Lost Ark, the other day I was daydreaming and my mind wandered to action scenes in films, specifically why some sprawling action set pieces work and some don't. The Star Wars prequels were at the forefront of my mind at the time, but it led to a train of thought that is relevant to action movies in general.
Now keep in mind, I'm a big Star Wars fan, but not one of THOSE Star Wars fans. Saw the original in a shitty little theater as a kid, blah blah blah. You know the drill. I'm also not one of those people who froth at the mouthMy point is
The second prequel, Attack of the Clones, ends with a massive battle on Geonosis that goes on for 20+ minutes and has TONS of explosions and robots and shit. It's a huge, chaotic battle that attempts to one-up the Hoth battle from The Empire Strikes Back at every turn.
It doesn't. The battle lovely, but it's also rather incoherent. The entire scene is a lengthy series of impressive looking but completely empty explosions.
This is an issue in a lot of modern movies. The action is big and loud, but there is little sense of forward motion or narrative to it. Sometimes these scenes go on for 15 minutes or more, but it's all just a jumble of sound and image.
Not EVERY modern action movie, of course. I'm not an old fuddy duddy. The action scenes in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, for example, are well-staged, dynamic, and actually have a sense of narrative and physical space that is easy to follow. Love the car chase with Nick Fury:
Winter Soldier stood out, though, because it got action right when so many modern action flicks confuse cacophony for excitement. Have you SEEN the Transformers movies? Or hell, any post-Saving Private Ryan war film. Throw in enough shaky cam, fast cuts, and closeups, and no one can tell that your action scene doesn't have an interesting through-line because you beat their senses half to death.
Spielberg, however ... this guy understands that actions scenes are in and of themselves little stories, and the ones that work best have tight, impeccable visuals.
The opening sequence of Saving Private Ryan is rightly hailed as one of the greatest feats in cinema history. On the surface, it's 20+ minutes of bullets, explosions, and torn up limbs. It's relentless. An assault on the sense that more than a few filmgoers (including this one) found overwhelming.
Spielberg makes it work, though, because it tells a story. MANY stories, in fact. The core of the sequence is, of course, Hanks getting off the boat, up the beach, and leading his men to take the bunkers. There is a narrative that runs through all that hectic action, and one you can easily follow. Hanks goes through a clear journey over the course of this extended sequence.
But there is more. In a big battle scene like that, you want to cut away to other moments in order to show the scale of what's happening. You see this is almost all big action set pieces like this. Show this thing blowing up, show those people dying, show that amazing sight. What Spielberg does, though, is ensure every one of those little cutaways tells a miniature, self-contained story. Look close at the seeming chaos of that Saving Private Ryan scene and you'll notice that the "chaos" is all actually a series of focused moments, each intended to say something:
- The doctor checking over a row of bodies and giving his assessment.
- The guy who gets saved by his helmet, only to be shot a moment later
- Burning the Germans out of the bunkers and then deciding to let them burn.
And so on.
These are small narrative moments that punctuate the action in meaningful ways. You come away not having seen an overwhelming series of explosions, but an actual narrative that fits together as a series of important moments that can be clearly followed.
That Attack of the Clones sequence, meanwhile, is an excuse to show off lots of badass CGI and cool robot designs, but can you spot the narrative in it? Can you remember any specific moments?
Spielberg is a storyteller first and foremost. Even in his most audacious, self-indulgent moments, he's laser-focused on sending the audience on a journey, and he does so in a way that generally needs no trickery or hand-holding. All that sprawl and spectacle has something to SAY. And because of that, it works.
I guess that's he is Spielberg and Bay is Bay.
Sunday, December 07, 2014
For a few years now, my son's favorite song has been Against Me!'s cover of "Here Comes A Regular" by The Replacements. It is, admittedly, a fantastic rendition. Check it out:
Thing is, it's a sad dirge about aging alone in a small, shitty town and finding your only solace in a small, shitty bar. Here are the lyrics.
My son is a teenager. He does not live in a small shitty town. He does not drink (and yes, smart guy, I'm sure of it). He is not a weary middle-aged man wondering where his life went. He should not relate to this.
But it stirs something in him all the same. He takes his own thing from it, he weaves it into his own life, and it means something to him, and it strikes a chord in him, and it's powerful to him. He CONNECTS with it through the sheer power of music.
I've had the same experience with many songs over the years. Songs that connected with me despite being the furthest possible thing to my own experiences or emotions or feelings. Songs that can make you feel sad when you are happy, or that can make you dance when you're feeling lazy, or that can make you pine for yesterday's you've never actually experienced.
I love that music is capable of this sort of thing.
I love music.
Saturday, June 07, 2014
I still remember when I first saw this in the theater. I live in a retirement area with a huge senior population.When we went to see this the theater was full, and it was a sea of white heads in every aisle. My wife and I were some of the only young people there.
It was harrowing. That opening sequence, no one had ever done anything like it before. For 20 minutes you're assaulted with graphic violence and noise and fury that relentlessly pounded your senses. By the end of the sequence, you were out of breath and tired of being battered and just wishing for a break from the sensory overload. The result was that for the rest of the movie, any time gunfire started you went right back to that same feeling again. You began to dread war scenes.
But far more difficult to endure was the audience. Grown men, strong old guys with bones tough as old oak, sobbing all around us. Sobbing because so many of them were there, had fought in the war, had seen friends die and had taken lives themselves, and because they had never before seen the reality of what they went through brought to life in this way before.
It was a hard thing.
And then later, watching it at home for the first time, alone in the bedroom as I watched, and weeping as the medic bled out, calling for his mother and wishing he could go home, and wondering why the hell I was watching this again.
Saving Private Ryan doesn't have the visceral impact it used to. Too many movies have cribbed from it in the nearly 15 years since it was released. The dizzying way Spielberg filmed combat now borders on being a cliche. Plus, multiple viewings over the years have softened its impact.
But damn if it isn't still a great movie with some truly moving moments. The opening sequence no longer leaves me exhausted and begging for it to be over, but the film itself retains its strange sense of breathless claustrophobia despite the predominantly outdoor settings. It still shakes. It still moves. It still reminds us about the sacrifices made all those decades ago.
It's a virtuoso piece of filmmaking, really, a spectacle you can't look away from. It's not without its flaws, but it's still one of the few war movies that dazzles without ever feeling like entertainment. When you watch this, you're not merely getting adventure. It's bigger than that. It's a war movie that never feels heroic. It kind of makes you feel small.
And sometimes that's a good thing.
Monday, June 02, 2014
Managed to muster up the energy for one here, though. This one is unofficially dedicated to my buddy Cary, a great writer you haven't heard of yet but will soon enough. Recorded this by accident, listened, liked, refined, and the end result is the longest single piece I've ever done. For me, at least, it's a little bit of audio bliss. Enjoy.
all songs (c) Eric San Juan 2014
drop me a note to use this music; permission is usually gladly granted