The Princess Bride Factor

My friend Annie texted me in a frenzy last night in order to alert me to the fact that Beauty and the Beast was airing on TV. After a moment of electronically shared glee, she explained that it was her favorite Disney movie because of its devotion to “far-off places, daring sword fights, magic spells and a prince in disguise”. The more I thought about it, the more I agreed – that is an excellent recipe for an incredible story. Which then got me thinking . . . What makes a story great?

As a writer, I’ve spent countless hours contemplating the question and tonight I came to the conclusion that the best kind of story is one that not only has a great plot, a cool setting, and an interesting and relatable protagonist (you know, the generic stuff), but also excels in seven other areas. These areas, which I have – in a fit of genius – categorized and defined for your convenience, will be heretofore known as:

The Seven Ingredients for the Best Story of All Time

1.  Clashes and Skirmishes – Ingredient number one was originally listed as ‘action’; however, I quickly realized that was much too broad a category. What makes a story really stand out is a daring bit of combat. Wizarding duels, a gripping sword fight, two stodgy British men kicking and scratching at one another because they don’t know how to brawl (oh Colin Firth and Hugh Grant, how you amuse us) . . . these are the scenes that make our favorite stories all the more interesting.

2. Something Unexpected – An incredible land hidden on the other side of a seemingly ordinary wardrobe or finding out the government is behind the creation of the story’s villainous monsters. A good story will always find some way to surprise you.

3.  Quirky Side Characters – Though everyone loves the dashing prince and beautiful princess that headline our favorite fairytales, it’s the side characters that make a good story amazing. Inigo Montoya and Fezzik, Clocksworth and Lumier. These are the characters that often steal the show and make a story.

4.  Witty Dialogue – Joss Whedon. Enough said.

5.  Bad Guy Comeuppance – The one thing everyone loves to see is the bad guy get what’s coming to him. We want to see the evil cheerleader get dumped at the prom and (spoiler!) Lord Voldermort die by his own curse. It’s universally satisfying.

6.  A Whirlwind Adventure –When our lives get too monotonous we all look to books and movies for adventure. The best stories understand and cater to that desire, whether it be a cross-country drive in a broke-down VW bus or following a lost boy past the second star to the left and straight on till morning. In order to make a mere good story a great one, it must have adventure. I say, when in doubt, throw in a pirate kidnapping across the high seas.  

7.  Love Story – Last but certainly not least, every great tale needs a love story. I don’t just say this to appeal to the female demographic (though it certainly helps).  But as my friend Julie Tuovi said in one of the first emails she ever sent me, “EVERYONE can relate to that! Even if you haven't had a relationship, you can still relate! Plus, I think relationships – including romantic ones – give you an insight into the characters . . . what drives them, what they want out of life. Gives them depth and makes them more interesting”. And she’s right – most of my favorite books and movies are driven by love stories. Where would the world (and the plot of The Terminator) be without the relationship between Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese? In the hands of the machines, that’s where. But instead Kyle’s love for Sarah sends him back through time where he fathers John Connor, humanity’s savior, thus inspiring one of the greatest movies (and stories) of all time.

Now, if you’re wondering how I came up with this list, here’s how it happened. Like any good scientist, I came up with a theory and went in search of data to back it up. I reviewed some of my favorite movies (such as Serenity/Firefly, Romancing the Stone, The Fifth Element, Pirates of the Caribbean, etc.) and came up with the seven ingredients for an amazing story. However, upon review I found that one story not only possess each of the ingredients, but does it so well it blows all others right out of the water – The Princess Bride. 

There’s nothing it doesn’t have. Sword fights – Check. Love story – check. Side characters – Miracle Max and his wife Valerie. Check. Witty Dialogue – “Anybody want a peanut?” Check. This is a story that does not fail. I defy anyone to come up with a better one. 

Cinderella’s Legacy

Why is it that the story of Cinderella, the scullery maid who became a princess, remains one of the most popular and beloved of all times? Is it because she stands up to her wicked stepmother?  No.  Because she’s brave and confidant?  Definitely not.  In those respects, Cinderella’s story proves nothing but a disappointment.  She never tells off her scheming step family or fights for her dreams. She meekly accepts her dreary existence and never makes a move to change her lot in life.

Even the end falls short of perfect.  Prince charming doesn’t come to her house, look past the dirt smudges and peasant rags to recognize Cinderella as the beautiful maiden he fell in love with at the ball.  Oh no. He marries her because her foot fits into a tiny glass shoe. Theoretically, he might have ridden off into the sunset with the wrong girl entirely, and the real “love of his life” is someone else with the same size feet wondering what in the hell’s taking her prince so long. 

It pains me to write this, as Cinderella was always my favorite Disney movie, but this ‘love story’ is nothing but a nightmare. It gives little girls (and let’s face it, a lot of lonely adults) the false belief that if they wait around long enough, a fairy godmother will come along to sort out their love life. Totally ridiculous. And waiting for prince charming to show up with a sparkly shoe in the right size – any shoe salesman can do that.  I mean, honestly, anyone who stayed in on a Saturday night waiting for a fairy godmother intervention might as well get used to scrubbing floors and singing into their soap-bubble reflection. Alone.

Dystopian Utopia

The other day I was going through some old notes on Plato’s Republic and began thinking about utopias. There are many different kinds of theoretical utopias, from those centered on harmony with nature to spiritual utopias where all religions are united together in a perfect shared faith. Still, the general discourse revolves around a place or society free of hate, violence, bigotry, and jealousy with perfection in law, politics, social environment, etc.

However, there’s a general belief that all utopian societies are unobtainable. The encyclopedia describes it as a place with “seemingly perfect conditions” that tends to be “impossibly idealistic”. This idealism stems from the naïve assumption that human beings will ever agree upon a perfect “social environment” or political system, and an even more naïve belief that mankind, with its overwhelmingly diverse spectrum of beliefs, could ever be free of hate or disgust. We strive for individualism – a healthy part of self-identity formation – but it is not without its drawbacks. Individuality forms when we define ourselves against something or someone else. Cheerleaders wear pink – I am not a cheerleader, therefore I wear black, and so on. However, where difference occurs so too does derision and bigotry. One simply does not exist without the other. 

So really, the only way to create a utopia is to do away with individualism. Over the past centuries we have seen several attempts at this. The chief architects of these attempted societies can also be called by another name – dictator. Known for the use of extreme methods (like genocide) to eradicate difference, what these leaders strive for is nothing short of a nightmare. But that aside, what is a world without individualism? That sounds more akin to a dystopia than a utopia. A dystopia, also known as the counter or anti-utopia, is a society which has evolved into a negative version of a utopia, or a utopian society with at least one fatal flaw. Typical dystopian societies are characterized by a repressive and controlling state where people are alienated and individuality smothered. While it is generally understood that utopias are satirical and used to critique a real life place – for example, many believe that Thomas More’s Utopia was meant as a commentary on England – dystopias, on the other hand, act more as cautionary tales when we, the imperfect human race, strive for an idyllic utopian society.

Perhaps it’s the cynic in me, but I find that the line between utopia and dystopia awfully blurred. Whether it’s my disbelief that mankind can ever live peacefully under one shared belief, or my fear that its success would be at the expense of what makes us interesting and unique, I remain wary of utopian advocates.

God Complex and Mutiny

Many people assume that, like doctors, all writers have god complexes. And it’s an easy assumption to make. Writers create whole worlds from scratch, filling in every building and political belief, character and motivation.

But there’s one thing people don’t always know about writing – that sometimes, the characters we create have a mind of their own. You want them to be sad, but they’re funny. You mean for them to hate someone, but they wind up liking them. My friend Julie mentioned that she didn't intend to create a love triangle, it just happened. Characters can be greedy and difficult, and like a child to a parent, they don’t always mind their author’s instructions.

And it’s not just the characters that do what they want – one time I found my entire novel mutinying against me, insisting on changing its plot. It’s an odd feeling, realizing you don’t always have control over the world you created. The truth is, despite a writer’s authorial power, occasionally the stories control us. You can yell, and kick and scream, insisting on getting your way . . . or knuckle under and do what your novel wants you to do.

Still, religious philosophy dictates that God created mankind, and then gave us freewill. Perhaps these autonomous characters’ blatant disregard for our authorial intent merely demonstrates their own exertion of freewill. Maybe writers, like all creators, struggle with the strong, decisive nature of their creations. “God complex” might not be such a bad fit after all. 

The Pearl Harbor Effect

To my everlasting regret, I recently got talked into watching the movie Pearl Harbor. Amidst the terrible acting and ridiculous dialog, I also had to deal with a love triangle. Now, I’ve never been the biggest fan of love triangles (and what little love I had for them Nicholas Sparks shot dead), but these love stories set against a war backdrop have become painfully  repetitive. Their plotlines are so formulaic you can practically map them out unseen. 

To break it down, man falls for woman, war breaks out, man goes off to war and goes missing –

presumed dead. His best friend/brother comes home to comfort girlfriend. Friend and girlfriend fall in love. Man discovered alive and returns home, only to find his best friend shacked up with his girlfriend. Drama, drama, drama.

I’m not saying all love triangles, or even all war-themed love triangles, are bad. The English Patient, Doctor Zhivago and Casablanca pulled it off with relative success. But just once it would be nice if the presumed dead first love would just kick it during the war. Or better yet, kill off the hussy who didn’t bother to make sure that the love of her life wasn’t really alive and in a coma somewhere. So please writers, for the love of god – come up with a new plot. 

The Perils of Editing

Last night at 2:30 a.m., I completed my novel (applause please). However, as I now face the ever demanding revision process, I find the challenge daunting. For one, my revisions come in a number of forms – some on paper, others on computer, and yet more simply rattle around in my brain. I hesitate to tell people it’s “finished”, when what I really mean is – it’s all on paper (the first writing hurdle, as I tend to skip around and leave places blank for later completion), and has gone through not one, but TWO rounds of editing.

And yet – it STILL needs work.

However, a recent debate with my friends over the value of James Joyce’s Ulysses got me thinking. Its first, and some believe most accurate, publication contains over 2,0000 errors. In fact, when published by Shakespeare and Company in 1922, Sylvia Beach added an insert that read: “The publisher asks the reader's indulgence for typographical errors unavoidable in the exceptional circumstances.”

Many question how Joyce could relinquish his novel with such blaringly obvious mistakes. To which I respond, they’re easier than one might imagine to overlook. For one, Joyce had multiple copies of his manuscript, and altered editing between them for no discernable reason. Furthermore, a good portion of the novel was handwritten as corrections on the original proofs, something I have a habit of doing myself. And more, Joyce rushed the editing process in order to complete it for publication on his fortieth birthday. All of these factors lead to the excess of mistakes in the finalized draft, which challenges editors even today.

But I think the truth is, a novel is never really finished. You could spend years trying to make it perfect, and still find mistakes and places you want to add to, subtract from, or cut out all together. So for now, I take comfort in the knowledge that greater authors than I make editing errors and pronounce my manuscript – COMPLETE!

Death of the Author

In my college literary theory class, we read an article by French theorist Roland Barthes entitled “Death of the Author”. Barthes argues that when analyzing any literary work, critics must separate the text from its author’s identity in order to achieve true interpretation. Basically, the moment the author relinquishes their work to the public eye, he or she dies a symbolic death while the text lives on; this way its analysis is unhampered by the reader’s assumption of the author’s intentions.  

Years later, this concept still haunts me. As a reader I see its value, but as a writer I bristle at the idea of my metaphorical death. And not just any death, but death at the hand of my own work. A classic tale of creation killing its creator, it conjures images of Frankenstein, tormented by his monster until his eventual demise.

Or perhaps it’s the reader who commits murder, rather than a piece of text. I’m positive there’s an Oedipal analogy in there somewhere. The reader, Oedipus, loves his mother, the text, and kills his father, the author. Freud would approve.

Regardless, I find this concept disturbing. Barthes’ work demonstrates the characteristics of a homicidal maniac, let loose on unsuspecting authors world-wide.  I’d question what traumatic events from his childhood influenced this essay, but that would violate his edict to “kill the author”. Either way, I’m keeping my manuscript away from sharp objects.