Why I Write

Why I Write

I grew up in an era—I was a kid in the 70s and a teen throughout the 80s—when science fiction and kung fu flicks were all the rage. Star Wars, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, and Buck Rogers in the 25th Century (huge crush on Erin Gray by the way) were all shows that fascinated me. They expanded my imagination in ways that I had not even considered were possible. For that reason, I was glued to them. I mean, the possibilities were endless as far as where they could take me and what they could do. Star Trek focused on going to different places and engaging with alien life forms. Star Wars got deep into the lore of a galaxy and opened my eyes and mind to possibilities that were, to that point for me, unimaginable. Warp speed, light speed, transporters, phasers (on stun), the force, and boldly going “where no man has gone before” were all new and exciting and have transformed into science fiction/fantasy staples.

The kung fu flicks appealed to me for a different reason. I say kung fu flicks and not martial arts films in general because there is a huge difference between the two. The kung fu movies were done with precision and attitude that could only have come from the people who produced them. Chinese actors had a hold on that industry, much in the same way that New York City emcees had a hold on the rap game in the 70s, 80s, and 90s. Others could do it, or some versions of it, but theirs was far superior. The choreography of the fight scenes in those movies was unmatched. The American fascination with martial arts films and tv shows in the aftermath of this brought forth, in my opinion, inferior work. Quite frankly, I think it was lazy work. We had a bunch of karate fighters who wanted to, all of a sudden, be actors—or so they wanted you to believe. My take on it is far more cynical. I think they were just too lazy to make enough fight scenes to carry the movies, and the ones they did choreograph they did so with the mindset of doing just enough to get you to the next plot point of the story instead of focusing on entertaining the viewer. Any Bruce Li (not Lee; don’t get me started) film is better than every Chuck Norris film. Period. Watch the Three Avengers and tell me I’m lying. The funny thing about the kung fu artists in those flicks is they didn’t even try to be good actors. There was absolutely nothing subtle or implied about their actions, which were intentionally devoid of nuance. If there was a bad guy, they pointed to him and said, “That guy is a bad guy.” Their facial expressions were over the top. They wanted you to know exactly how they felt. Why? Because the action sequences were the star of the show, not their acting ability or some extravagant plot.

You may ask yourself why I am going into such detail about science fiction shows and kung fu movies. The answer is quite simple. It speaks to my mindset and approach when writing stories and action sequences. Both these genres ask you to suspend disbelief, and the content only has to be plausible within the context and parameters of what you create. I like that. The key is consistency. A person who runs away from a knife attack in the first act of your story can’t behave as if he was impervious to bullets the whole time in act three. You can only make the reader believe the character is the latter if you establish that early on.

As an introvert, there is always something imaginative floating around in my mind, and it’s usually champing at the bit to be expressed. Standing on a soapbox and delivering my content to the masses is not my idea of a good time. I’d rather leave my words there on the proverbial street corner and let you discover them on your own, the same way one would choose a newspaper over the grandstanding orator they passed on the same street. My job, like the writer of whatever article the customer chooses to read, is to deliver the material in a way that is digestible and uniquely my own, or else they could get the same (or similar) information from someone/somewhere else. The advantage I have is my ability to give you, the reader, content that cannot be gotten anywhere else. This is what makes it attractive to me. I see things in a way that combines my love of science fiction and kung fu flicks in a way that I feel simply has not been explored enough, although Rogue One: A Star Wars Story did a fantastic job at it. Am I unique? No! But I do feel as though the intersection of those genres during the time period I referenced influenced an entire culture. See: Wu Tang Clan.

I can imagine things so wondrous that it is impossible for me to convey them through spoken word, so writing it is. You often hear people say that the book is always better than the film. Although I don’t believe in absolutes, I get that. The reason is you get to add, as a writer, details that movies simply do not have the responsibility to cover. Interiority is huge in writing. The “actors” in those old kung fu flicks I talked about earlier knew this. That’s exactly why they were overt with their actions. They didn’t even try to be subtle. In writing, I get to tell you exactly what I mean. Any misunderstanding is a failure on my part. I accept that. In fact, I embrace it. Furthermore, I relish it. Rarely does an introvert get an opportunity to give his/her perspective—or side of the story—uninterrupted. Most rooms are dominated by the prettiest, tallest, or loudest individual there and for those reasons, or because of those traits, they are often the ones who are heard. It’s human nature. As we know, that does not equate to entertaining or accurate. But, they seem to be the source of most of the information we get these days. Look at any news anchor or influencer and ask yourself if they possess any of those traits. The degree to which they overlap is disgustingly high.

I love that I can establish a premise and take my time to extrapolate it out to its conclusion without someone else interjecting before the thought has had an opportunity to mature. A good story requires a worthwhile premise, setup, foreshadowing, a McGuffin, and a conclusion that brings all those things together while avoiding the dreaded deus ex machina. To lose that opportunity to someone else because you lack enough charisma to command a room is a sad tale in and of itself, but that is oftentimes the case with introverts. So, writing it is. I consider it a conversation with myself that I share with everyone else. I will never find myself sitting home in the aftermath of a debate kicking myself because I failed to say y when someone else said x. Everything I want to say will be said, plain and simple. Every thought I want to convey will be delivered fully. Every inference the reader wants to draw from what I present will be drawn, the degree to which depending on the union of their understanding and my ability to explain myself. My hope is that the latter does the work while the former reaps the benefits of that labor. That way we don’t have any misunderstandings.

My goal, however, is not to have the ability to be the only one heard while commanding a captive audience. Not at all. What I want to do is bring you enjoyable stories that are well told and pay attention to detail. The beautiful thing about a book is that you can close it anytime you please. You can pick it up later or never touch it again; it’s up to you. My challenge is to hold your attention until I am done expressing myself or the story is told. Hopefully, when it’s all said and done the reader is satisfied. Thank you for staying until the end and reading what I had to say.