Women in Media

Something has been bugging me, and it’s not Gina Davis’s lack of stage presence.

She right. I watch some of the (forgive me) shit available for kids and I am shocked. I had to stop a video of “Hercules” a while back because the female character broke into a song about how she was just a weak girl, and wasn’t it a good thing there was such a strong man around to take care of her. Excuse me? What? Since then I’ve been seeing more things like Gina Davis’s talk here, and noticing more and more the representation of girls in entertainment in general. While some kid’s shows (“Olivia” is a personal favorite), do okay, others have a long way to .

My husband told me about a conversation he had on the topic lately and related something fascinating. Turns out that years ago some feminist group sat down to craft guidelines for what constituted a feminist film. Here are the three things a story must have to be considered feminist. Ready? It’s pretty extensive…

1. Have two female characters with names

2. Those two characters have a conversation at some point

3. That conversation is NOT about a guy

That’s it. And you know what, it SHOCKING how many films can’t do it.

Well I for one will be doing my part to put some entertaining media out there where two named women have a conversation that isn’t about a guy. It honestly shouldn’t be so hard.

I know a lot of you who read my blog are in the entertainment industry in one way or another. I challenge you to think about this the next time you see a movie, and consider how your own projects measure up. Those of us telling the stories are in the unique position of being able to influence how they are told.

Power to the storytellers. Bring it.

10 Years or 10,000 Hours

My father-in-law was telling me recently about an article he read that discussed something called the theory of mastery, or something close to that. The basic idea is that to truly mater a craft or skill (be it writing or basketball), you have to practice it for 10 years or 10,000 hours.

I’ve been writing now for about five years. I’m talking (almost) every day, in one format or another, writing. Some days I write for hours, some days I only get thirty minutes in, but I am very diligent about getting my fingers on this keyboard. So just for fun, let’s see how far down the road to mastery I am:

To be conservative, let’s say I write 300 days a year. After 5 years that’s 1500 days. Now let’s say I write an average of three hours a day. I think that’s low, but let’s run with it. So I’ve practiced writing for about 4,500 hours. Of course that’s only since deciding to be a professional writer. I’m not counting any writing I did before five years ago, and there was a fair amount.

So I’m about half way to mastery, both in years and hours practiced. That sounds about right. I certainly am holding my own as a professional, but when it comes to my fiction, especially my novel, I still feel like I have so much to learn. I wonder if I will feel different in 2016 when I am finally a master. I might have to through a party and make everyone call me “master” for the night. And a hat. I will definitely need a funny hat.

Run, Baby, Run

I‘ve decided to become a runner.

After three months on bed rest and then actually squeezing the little guy out, my body is not the body I remember. I feel weak, and I’m tired of it. So I googled up a storm and designed a plan to ramp up slowly into a running practice. Yesterday was my first day – I did thirty minutes; three walking followed by two running, repeated six times. It felt good.

The best thing about this plan is the two minutes. Running is hard, but for two minutes I can do just about anything. And unlike my usual attempts at running, I wasn’t playing the mental game of “how much further can I go” I knew exactly how much longer I would be running, which allowed me to switch my focus to the act of running. I spent the two minute intervals of running time trying to find a groove, a comfort in the motion of it. It was cool.

It reminded me of my writing. Just like exercise, writing is hard to get back into when you step away from it for any length of time. And that’s why a writing practice is so important. Rather than pushing myself to get through this chapter or word count or what ever, when I set aside time to write, and I accept that writing is what I’m doing, I can free myself to settle into it, to find a comfort in the challenge of it. By embracing the act of writing and ignoring the part of me that whines “this is too hard…” I can let go and fall into that zone, the one where words just pour.

And on that note, time to stop blogging and get back to the novel.

The Future of The Written Word

When I was little, my mom worked as an illustrator by day and an oil painter by night. The illustrations she did for a company called Northwestern Graphics paid the bills, and the oil paintings were her passion. It occurred to me, or rather, it occurred to my husband who pointed it out to me, that I am rapidly establishing a life for myself that is very similar to my mom’s before me. I do business writing by day, and after the kids are in bed, I work on my novel.

The thing that struck me today is that my mom fell on really hard times when computers came along with their graphic programs and killed the professional (free hand) illustrator. She had to go back to school to learn the software programs that now do in seconds what she once did all day every day.

It seems inconceivable to me now, but what if the written word is dying? I have friends who teach grade school who say they regularly have to explain to kids that “U R” is not the same as “you are.” While it seems crazy that some day all memos, white papers and promotional material might be written in texting short-hand, perhaps I’m being optimistic. If I am, I better make myself into a prized novelist right quick, because my day job won’t last long.

I guess the good news is that a lot of the business writing I do is for websites. Web content should be around for a while. And people of my generation will still be running things for at least a few more decades, and we mostly still like complete sentences. Mostly. I guess I’m just feeling curious about what the future has in store. Only time will tell, I suppose.

Hey Jealousy

I am not a jealous person, generally speaking. I’m very happy with my life and I view the success of my peers with excitement. I tend to see us all as in this thing together. If a friend of mine gets a book published I feel in some small way like I’m a part of that triumph (especially when I’ve given feedback or support). As writers we need our community to cheer us on.

When I was in school I had a professor tell me to be prepared. That some day a friend would publish something that made me jealous and that it would be a difficult thing to deal with. I scoffed. Not me.

Well aren’t those words delicious?

A past creative partner just hit the jackpot with his most recent project and I have to admit that I’m jealous. I hate it, but I am, and the thing is, I feel justified. The reason I no longer collaborate with this individual is that I didn’t like how he worked. As an analogy, say he was a writer who taught undergrads and basically took advantage of everyone around him to complete his current successful piece – stealing ideas, not giving credit, etc. (he’s not, exactly, and he didn’t, quite, but I feel this analogy gives a sense of why I’m angry without giving away the guy’s (or gal’s) actual identity).

So now he’s a big success. Ug. Puke. Why him? He got lucky, that’s all. I still have no intention of ever working with him again, but it makes me wonder – do you have to be a dick to get ahead as a creative professional?

I maintain that good work speaks for itself and that lying and cheating your way to the top will earn you a limited stay. Maybe I’m being naive. I suppose time will tell.

Cinematic Story Telling

I‘m often confused by the way different people refer to “cinematic” story telling. When some people use the words they get a wistful look in their eyes, like they’ve been swept away to a far off land. Others say it with a bit of a smirk – as if the author has somehow failed to be literary enough in their story telling, and has instead fallen into a cinematic (intoned with ickiness) sub-genre.

The difference seems to be the degree to which we as readers as privy to the interior of the main character’s head. The more we know their thoughts, the more literary the resulting story.

I was thinking about this the other day when I was channel surfing while nursing. Mid-day TV is leaves much to be desired, but I stumbled upon “Even Cowgirls Get The Blues.” The book, by Tom Robbins, was the first book I ever read twice. I was more or less obsessed with his books from the age of 19 until about 25, and “Cowgirls” was always my favorite. I knew it had been adapted to the screen, but never sought it out, since the reviews had not been so favorable.

Though it’s been a while since I read “Cowgirls,” I remember feeling transported by it, as if were unfolding on a screen. Everything was so easy to imagine, to picture in my mind. It seemed like a story that was just screaming to be a movie. So why was it so utterly unwatchable?

Seriously, I changed the channel after five minutes. The idiosyncratic characters that had been so charming on the page were simply awful on the screen. Cliche, weird, even racist and insulting. Why? If memory serves, the movie is very true to the book. What happened? And why is it that such a cinematic story could make such poor cinema?

My best guess is that good books, cinematic or not, engage us by hitting just the perfect balance of detail and freedom to imagine. When a filmmaker tries to take the story and fill in what he or she sees as the details, they limit the vision of the story to their own.

So is it true what they say? Do good books make lousy films? A survey of recent attempts certainly points to yes; Lovely Bones, White Oleander, Love in the Time Of Cholera. I’m already dreading Water For Elephants.

What do you think? Are there films out there that you feel really capture a book you loved? If so, would you consider the book “cinematic.” I’m curious to hear some thoughts.