Low Resolution

I ought to resolve to write one story a week this year, but then I might feel obligated to do it. Sigh. I really should. I need the practice. Also, I need someone with a roasting fork standing behind me telling me to write. Most essays written by writers about writing agree on two things:

- There will be a gap of between 7 to 10 years from the time you begin writing and the time you begin writing stuff that people will pay to read

- Practically everything that writers write in essays about writing is crap.

The problem is, I figure if I don't spend those 7 to 10 years actually writing, they don't count.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not forcing myself to do something I hate to do. Writing is not like cleaning the toilet. Well, actually it sort of is. I love telling stories. Writing, however, is not telling stories. Writing is the work you do to tell a story. I like having a clean toilet, but cleaning the toilet is not having a clean toilet. It is the work you do to have a clean toilet.

Ok. Here goes. One short story a week. I should have 52 by this time next year.

Interestingly Evil

What makes a villain interesting? I can give you several good examples of interesting villains, or at least villains that I find fun to read:

Walter from the Gunslinger Heptalogy.

Zabulon (or Zavulon if you drink your vodka neat) from the Night Watch Tetralogy. (They're not words you get to use everyday, ok) Jubal Early from Firefly.

There are other villains who are just as, or even more famous, who are missing something that these guys have. For instance:

Sauron (need I even say from where?) Emperor Palpatine (some movie or another)

The one thing I see that each of the first three characters have in common is that they are all likable in some way. Walter is carefree and full of laughs, even if those laughs can drive a man to madness. Zabulon comes across like a kindly grandfather who just wants you to have a nice time and not worry so much about how the world is falling apart. Jubal Early is a dry comedian, who had the best lines in the entire tragically short lived show. They each have a certain charisma. We wouldn't want to be the victim of their evil intents, but it might be fun to have a drink with them.

The other two: just not nice at all. They are just plain evil and nasty and unpleasant.

So, why do we like the first three more. I don't just mean, why do we like the kind of person they are portrayed as. That's obvious. But why do they read better? This isn't a rhetorical question. I'm puzzling it out as I write. Any of those top three could carry a story by himself. The bottom two are simply a foil to the heroes. Is it just that they are more interesting? Ok, but what makes them interesting? Perhaps the contrast between characteristics. Charismatic and jolly combined with cold-hearted and evil is certainly an odd combination. Or is their a deeper psychological reason for our preference for this kind of character. Perhaps we like to see evil portrayed in a light-hearted manner. As Ralph the Creepy Lift Operator would say, Evil is mostly ok! That says something not so nice about the way my mind works, which lends it a bit of validity.

Then there's the other side of the coin. We like our heroes a bit Anti-Hero. Whose cooler, Han Solo or Obi-wan Kenobi? You might say Obi-wan, but what if Han Solo could open a beer with his mind? See? Just as we like our villains with a smile and a bounce in their step, we like our heroes full of angst, pouty frowns, and cruelty. Or at least harmlessly wicked.

Batman(DC)/Punisher(Marvel)
Captain Jack Sparrow
Riddick
Max Rockatansky, Mad

Is it because we relate better to heroes who aren't perfect? Is it because we think good is boring? Both?

Have I ruined your favorite book for you? I hope not.

My Air Has a Flavr

I'm still on the topic of dogs. When beginning any relationship, there are things you get to know about each other, and issues are uncovered. My dog has issues, some more serious than the others. Currently the most serious issue is comprised of aspects auditory, olfactory, and infernal.
It is late at night. My wife and I are quietly typing and/or reading and enjoying the peace, and Jack is asleep on the other side of the room, launching an assault on that peace. The sound is like 20 dinner guests eating jello out of champagne flutes. The smell is pungent and vigorous. It changes its character slightly with each iteration so that there is never any hope of acclimation. I fear he might be seriously ill, or possibly dead. I'm going to go poke him. Be right back


He's alive. He's also out of my bedroom. This is a move I support wholeheartedly.

Old Yeller should have pled insanity

At some point in history, men began the process of domesticating wolves. It is one of a long list of things that we are grateful for even though we haven't the foggiest idea what possessed him to do it in the first place. It's like Jello. Jello is great, but it started out something like this:

Researcher #1: When we boil all these cow hides and bones we get this wobbly clear goo.

Researcher #2: Yes, but can we eat it?

I can only imagine a similarly bizarre conversation at the opening of the canine domestication project.

Man: Hey, you know those big, hairy, toothy things that travel around in packs and kill just about anything they come across?

Woman: You mean the ones that ate my brother Carl?

Man: Yeah, those. How would you like one in our tent?

Somehow though, it worked. We gave the wolf floppy ears and a waggly tail and shame, and it gave us a pile of poo at the foot of our bed every morning, and unconditional devotion. We also made it absolutely puddle-drooling, pants-eating, nose-licking insane. Perhaps there is some fundamental rule at work: The closer a wild creature comes to being civilized, the higher the probability it will fall off its rocker.

My dog ate a plum tree this morning. We don't know why. I don't know if the dog knows why. If it could speak we might ask it why. I suspect the answer would be something like, "Bugs! Covered in Bugs!" or perhaps, "When is it time for pudding, nurse?"

The dog of my teenage years liked to eat rocks. The dog my wife had in college had obsessive compulsive disorder and was addicted to things that went "squeak." Attempting carnal acts on legs or pieces of furniture has become so common among dogs that we accept it as normal, without ever once asking why it would be normal. I have seen a lot of nature shows and Animal Planet specials, but have never once seen a video of a timber wolf romancing a tree stump.

Perhaps they were doomed from the beginning. I mean, it's got to be hard to catch a wolf and try to tame it. Perhaps these ancient geneticists were forced to work with the materials they were able to gather.

Wolf Breeder 1: So, which one do we grab?

Wolf Breeder 2: Well, that one looks pretty mean. I just saw him rip the throat out of a mountain lion. Those two over there all covered in scars and snarling; I wouldn't want to mess with them.

Wolf Breeder 1: Hey, that one just ate 5 pine cones and then shagged a porcupine.

Wolf Breeder 2: Grab him.