Category Archives: Tropes & Archetypes

The Ultimate Philosopher King

Character Evan Braun Science Fiction Tropes & Archetypes No Comments

Picard3Jean-Luc Picard is the ultimate philosopher king (but this guy is a close second). The term “philosopher king” is thrown around quite a bit, but let me take you back to its origins. Plato wrote, in Republic:

Until philosophers rule as kings… that is, until political power and philosophy entirely coincide… cities will have no rest from evils… there can be no happiness, either public or private. (Encylopaedia Britannica)

And then, later:

…[the] true pilot must of necessity pay attention to… the heavens, the stars, the winds, and everything proper to the craft if he is really to rule a ship. (Wikipedia)

In other words, Plato was saying that a community—or entire civilization—could not flourish or eliminate human vice, until those in power embraced wisdom, science, philosophy… and I think diplomacy probably fits well into that same category.

Well, I’m not sure it’s possible to read that and not think immediately of Gene Roddenberry’s revised Star Trek premise. When he developed The Next Generation in the mid-1980s, he conceived of a future a hundred years further along than Kirk and company, one in which no human vice existed in any form. It’s much more utopian in perspective than the original series, which contained, along with its high-minded notions of equality and diversity and peaceful coexistence, its fair share of fisticuffs. In The Next Generation, there were almost no fisticuffs to be glimpsed. Instead, problems were solved almost universally around a conference table, in long meetings presided over by a true philosopher king, with a crack team of scientists (and even a psychologist advisor) at his right hand.

(The ubiquity of The Next Generation’s endless meetings has been soundly mocked over the years, but I confess that I actually like them. I’ll take a serious philosophical discussion over thrown punches any day—both in real life and in my fiction.)

I think I fell in love with Jean-Luc Picard from the first moment I laid eyes on him. I admire his rationalism, his steadfastness, his urgency, his fairness, and his willingness to dialogue. He doesn’t have all the answers, but that’s okay because he doesn’t solve problems by himself; he surrounds himself with smart, qualified professionals who help him understand things. In one episode, literally moments before his ship is about to explode, as the bridge is shaking apart around him, he looks to his crew and barks, “Suggestions!” There is no crisis too great or urgent for a conference.

Picard can often be seen reading works of high literature; in a world of PADDs and digital technology (or should I say isolinear?), he still holds paper books in his hands. He appreciates art and sculpture. Again and again, he is shown to value theatre. He is a musician himself, and he often listens to opera and classical music. He attends concerts and poetry readings. He is also a scientific man, deeply rooted in history and archaeology. He speaks several languages. And perhaps most of all, he is a peacekeeper, a diplomat who brings opposing sides together and negotiates compromises.

Picard is a man of passions, but he is not governed by passion. In his romantic entanglements, few and far between (and always carefully considered), he is never depicted as falling head over heels. He is not subject to whims. Nor does he use sex or romance as a weapon or tactic.

I’m not sure a character like Picard would be so readily loved or admired anymore in the same way he was in the 80s and 90s. Picard is almost too perfect, too boring in our world of antiheroes and villainous protagonists. He is emotionally stable, and he rarely succumbs to errors in judgment, and when he does he acknowledges them and learns from the experience. All the same, when imbued with Patrick Stewart’s gravitas and intellect, Picard is awfully compelling.

He is the respected leader we all want to follow, a powerful figure when compared to the corrupt politicians and corporate executives we see everywhere in the here and now.

Indeed, he is the philosopher who rules as king, the true pilot who observes the stars and the heavens to preside over his ship. In the midst of near-perfect humanity, Picard shines brightly. As Shakespeare might say, he is the paragon of animals.

Plato would have been proud.

Evan BraunEvan Braun is an author and editor who has been writing books for more than ten years. He is the author of The Watchers Chronicle, a completed trilogy. In addition to writing science fiction, he is the managing editor of The Niverville Citizen. He lives in Niverville, Manitoba.

The Unconscious Autobiography

Character Conflict Craft & Skills Ideas & Plotting Leigh Galbreath Self-Awareness Tropes & Archetypes World-building 3 Comments

It’s been said, and I’m sure you’ve heard it before, that all characters in a story have a bit of the author in them. Everything you write is colored by your personal preconceptions, observations, experiences, and random thoughts about life and your place in it. In a very real way, who we are leaks into the text whether we want it to or not. I  don’t know if I’m the only one who has had this happen, but I find it interesting, and sometimes unsettling, when I realize something about a situation or a character is actually something about myself that I had not realized until I saw it on the page. In a very real way, our characters are our reflections, though sometimes distorted ones. Their experiences and reactions to those experiences are deeply colored by our own.

Now, this doesn’t mean that one could use a piece of fiction as a case study of the author. Authors don’t directly translate themselves onto the page. Most of the time this is an unconscious phenomenon.

In fact, this happens so often and with so little thought that it’s almost impossible not to write what we know. Our subconscious does it for us. When we need a scent, we pull one from memory. When we need to show an emotional reaction, we look at how our own bodies might feel in the same situation. If the character experiences something that we never have, we might find an analogous experience to inform what is on the page. While in most cases writing fiction is writing stories about other people, we cannot help but write about ourselves at the same time.

On some level, writing what you know comes without thinking. But notice the “without thinking” part.

The difficulty comes when we let our own experiences limit what we can and do show in a story. It’s extremely easy to fall back on our own point of view. For example, I find that my characters can sometimes be reserved, even repressed, about their emotions. As a result, I often find it difficult to push the emotional dial up to full for an explosive moment of conflict. That comes from me. I’m a pretty laid back person who doesn’t feel all that comfortable when people around me are really emotional. While I can bring tension, sometimes just bringing tension isn’t enough for a big scene. I’ve seen and heard about other writers who will actually skip hugely important scenes in their books because they themselves have no reference point, or their own beliefs or view of the world make it difficult to face what their characters have to do.

And of course, there’s that ever present failure when an author writes a gross generalization or something just flat out wrong that is deeply insulting to an entire group of people because said author didn’t look outside their own point of view.

For instance, I once knew a real young man whose personality was so over the top that he seemed almost like a caricature. At the time, I thought he’d make a great character in a book, but part of what made him utterly ridiculous was intrinsically bound to an entire group of people who are mostly not ridiculous at all. That character isn’t showing up anywhere in my work as a result. Some might think, to avoid this, one should steer clear of any type of character that is not like them. Sometimes this might be the right call, but limiting oneself to just the familiar often leads to boring characters and lackluster plots. Variety is, after all, the spice of life.

My point here is simply to be mindful of what is going into the mixing pot that is your story. Pay attention to those moments when a character trait or bit of setting or what-have-you relies a little too much on what you know. Look for those opportunities when something different can strengthen and deepen what you’re working on.

Who knows, your characters might rub off on you for a change.

K.M. Weiland’s Outlining Your Novel, Part One

Craft & Skills Ideas & Plotting Kristin Luna Outlines Storyline The Fictorians The Writing Life The Writing Process Tropes & Archetypes Writing Tools 7 Comments
*Please note that this is part one of a two part series. The second part of this series will be posted on Thursday, December 17th.*

 

It never fails. I sit down, Scrivener doc open and ready. And I’m terrified and completely unsure of where to begin. Luckily this year, I’ve discovered two books that have forever changed my writing process from here on out.

Many people will tell you to just sit down and write. Some will say to have an overall plan, but the important thing is that you sit down, every day, and write, no matter how painful it is. I offer you an option three: plan. And plan carefully.

In K.M. Weiland’s book Outlining Your Novel, she writes:

K.M. Weiland

“Each author must discover for himself what methods work best for him. Just because Margaret Atwood does X and Stephen King does Y is no reason to blindly follow suit. Read widely, learn all you can about what works for other authors, and experiment to discover which methods will offer you the best results.

My own writing routine is a constantly evolving process. What worked for me five years ago isn’t necessarily what works for me now, and what works for me now isn’t necessarily going to work for me in another five years.” (Page 18)

Indeed, you should do exactly what works for you, even if a famous writer says it’s the worst advice she’s ever heard. You should do it if an author you don’t necessarily like also adheres to the same advice as you do.

So, if you’ve decided outlining is for you (and Weiland goes through pros and cons in the very first chapter to help you decide), where do you go from there? In the rest of the book, Weiland overviews every pre-writing method I’ve ever seen, from crafting your premise to writing your pitch, character sketches to character interviews.

What I love most about Outlining Your Novel is that you don’t have to do every single exercise in the book. You get to choose what will be helpful for your process. But Weiland doesn’t skimp on giving you ideas about how to think about your novel in the conceptual stage, as she shows you how to approach shaping your creative ideas into a tangible game plan.

One of the items I found incredibly helpful was in chapter four. Weiland encourages you to look at all possible outcomes, all possible conflicts that could arise with the characters you’ve chosen or in the situations you’ve dreamed up.

“Even when you think you have a plot problem all figured out, push a little farther by asking a few more questions. What if something else happened in this scene? What would change as a result? Would the resultant shifts be for the better or for the worse?” (Page 69)

 Sometimes we get so married to an idea that we don’t even want to consider other ideas. You aren’t doing your story justice if you could dream up an excellent side story, a secondary conflict, or a great additional character to make the world richer. Ask yourself what’s expected, and then what’s unexpected.

At first blush, I’ll admit I questioned if I really needed Outlining Your Novel. I’ve been writing for over a decade. I have my degree in creative writing. Is this book really going to help me? I wondered. And the answer is a loud, enthusiastic yes. From me to you, yes, this book will absolutely help you. Some of the knowledge is common. But I found that I was pleased to have a reminder of that knowledge. K.M. Weiland digs deeply into the pre-writing process, deeper than I have ever gone. This is an incredible resource to have in my library when I’m dreaming up a new story, and I think it could be for you as well.

On Thursday, look for part two of this series when I go over K.M. Weiland’s Structuring Your Novel.

Don’t be Afraid to Write–Horror

Horror Jace Killan Self-Awareness The Writing Life Tropes & Archetypes Writing as An Emotional Outlet No Comments

monkey paw“What do you write?” is the most common question I get when people find out I’m a writer. At first I really wasn’t sure.

Fiction, I suppose. I write fiction.

“What kind?” would be the follow up. I really didn’t know so I would spout out some authors.

My writings are like John Grisham, Tom Clancy, and maybe Orson Scott Card. These were favorite authors, but my stories were a little different than theirs.

“Sci-fi?”

Hmm, not really. I guess you’d call it more thriller.

I asked one lady what she liked to read. “Horror,” she said. “I love horror.”

I was surprised. This little gal, sweet, nice, the church going type, loving horror? IT, Chucky, The Night of the Living Dead? I had only seen clips of these horror flicks and that was enough to haunt my sleep for a good long time.

A few months later I attended a writing workshop where I was supposed to bring my latest completed short story. I didn’t think anyone would read it, just that we would be shown how to self edit. Nope, we read it aloud to the group. I was immediately embarrassed as the piece was a little disturbing with some paranormal elements to it.

What do you write? Came the question to the group. Fantasy, I said. I had learned that fantasy engulfed a lot of make-believe fiction.

“Oh no my friend, you write horror,” the instructor said.

I was floored. Really? Horror? My piece had a little blood and a ghost, and well—suicide, but that was hardly the Night of the Living Dead.

As I grew in my writing and understanding of genre, I reflected on those stories I had read as a child that stuck with me like The Monkey’s Paw or The Veldt. I realized that they were horror.

I read Ticktock by Dean Koontz and absolutely loved it. That prodded me to read many more of his works. I quickly discovered that I read horror. I loved horror.

I am not a Serial Killer by Dan Wells is one of the best series I have read in the horror genre.

I also realized that many pieces I had written but hadn’t shared for fear of being thought odd or insane or psycho, were great pieces of horror. They addressed my fears. In a way, writing terrible things with horrific endings (story not prose) was a way to cope with my real fears.

I’ve learned that the horror genre in movies is different than books. Silence of the Lambs and The Ghost and the Darkness fall under the movie genre of Drama where they are clearly a Horror genre in literature. Horror isn’t necessarily blood or violence. But it can be both.

What I’ve learned most is to not be afraid of my own stories. I’ve had some turn their eyebrows up at me, wondering what sort of devil possessed my mind to turn out a story so horrifyingly brilliant. To that I smile and nod. Just wait, I have yet to write my best work.

jace 1I live in Arizona with my family, wife and five kids and a little dog. I write fiction, thrillers and soft sci-fi with a little short horror on the side. I’ve got an MBA and work in finance for a biotechnology firm.

I volunteer with the Boy Scouts, play and write music, and enjoy everything outdoors. I’m also a novice photographer.

You can visit my author website at www.jacekillan.com, and you can read some of my works by visiting my Wattpad page.