Steve Hutchinson and the Deus ex Machina

Ok.  So everyone here probably already knows I'm a pretty big Seattle Seahawks fan.  And by "pretty big", I don't mean in a large-sized sort of way.  I mean it in an I'm going to have to get a bigger closet for all my Seahawks gear when I buy another jersey sort of way.  I live and breathe Seahawks.  Twenty-four friggin' hours a day.  Drives the rest of the House of Dalar up the walls at times, especially the times when there's a game on.  'cept the boy.  He's cool like that.  I'm raising him well.

The Greatest Place on Earth, © Jonathan Dalar

So when the news broke that left guard Steve Hutchinson would be visiting the Seahawks, I naturally assumed the Mayans were right about this whole "world is ending in 2012" thing.  The writer in me took over, however, and the first thing I did was start to think about plot twists in a story.  Well, no.  Technically that was the second thing I did.  I first checked the temperature in Hell.  Astonishingly, snow was not in the forecast.

For those of you who are not following, I'll bring you up to speed with a little back story necessary to understand why this would be so improbable.  Actually the back story is the story.  The visit is simply the climax at the end.

Hutch is an absolute beast, a high-caliber player that tremendously impacts the success of a team.  He's been to the Pro Bowl seven times, four of them with the Seahawks.  They picked him with the 17th pick in the 2001 draft, and he quickly became a cog in one of the best offensive lines we've seen in the NFL.  Between 2001 and 2006, he played beside Walter Jones, forming if not the best offensive line tandem in the game, certainly one of a select few great ones.  He was tremendously valuable to the Seahawks, and a big part of their trip to Super Bowl XL* after the 2005 season.  Ah, things were going well!

But then things went sour, and they did so quickly.  In 2006, Hutch was scheduled to become a free agent.  The Seahawks front office, then led by a somewhat discordant team of head coach Mike Holmgren and president and general manager Tim Ruskell, placed the Transition Tag on Hutch instead of the safer Franchise Tag.  The move saved the team $500,000.00, but cost them the ability to secure his services for another year while they worked out a long-term contract.

The Minnesota Vikings were quick to take advantage of that situation, and offered him a huge poison pill-laden contract, at the time an unprecedented amount of money for his position.  The poison pill was two-fold: first, the contract stipulated he had to be the highest paid lineman on the team (on the Vikings he would be; on the Seahawks, Walter Jones deservedly earned more), and second, he could play no more than a half a dozen games in Washington State (the Seahawks play eight home games a year).  If either of these provisions were not followed, the entire $49 million contract was guaranteed.  Of course, that made the contract impossible for the Seahawks to match.  They took it to arbitration, but lost, and Hutch became a Viking.

It was a divorce straight from the script of The War of the Roses.  Hutch, frustrated with the Seahawks' dysfunctional front office, had very little nice to say about the split.  Seahawks fans everywhere took affront.  Hutch instantly became one of Seahawks fans' most hated players in the game.  He was branded a traitor, and much worse.  "It was all about the money!"  "What a greedy, selfish bastard!"  "Huck Futch!"  The insults came hot and heavy, and sentiment regarding Hutch didn't really change, even as the years passed and memories faded.  His money-grabbing move crippled the Seahawks' front line, triggering the team's sharp downward spiral just a season away from the Super Bowl.  He took something away from us.  Seahawks fans had every right to be pissed.

Or did we?  Hindsight is 20/20, so they say, but we don't have the luxury of hindsight when we're in the middle of a story.  We read it as it plays out, and react accordingly.  But what we see isn't necessarily all that's going on behind the scenes, and it's only at the end that we start to figure out what's really going on.  This has never been more true than with this story.

Self, © beholder via Flikr

We fans were still quite enamored at the time with Tim Ruskell.  He'd come to the team at the beginning of the 2005 season, and a few key moves that year were what propelled them to their best season yet and a trip to the big dance.  It appeared he was the mad genius, the final missing cog that brought the team to glory from a rather dismal and emotionally draining past.  "In Ruskell we trust" became many fans' byline, almost overnight.

In the years since, that façade has crumbled away, as decisions made then did the exact opposite of what we expected.  The team plodded to back-to-back horrible seasons, mired as ineffective moves came back to haunt it.  We've come to understand that there was far more dysfunction and discord in the front office than we realized.  Ruskell, no longer the hero, was now judged by his track record, and it wasn't a pretty record at all.  The decision to assign the Transition Tag to Hutchinson is viewed by many as his worst, the fatal blow that ripped the team from playoff contention and mired them once again in mediocrity.

Since those dark days, the team has had an entire reboot.  An entire new front office was installed, and the team no longer has a single player from that magical 2005 season left.  Not one.  At least not until Steve Hutchinson re-signs.  It's definitely not your daddy's "Same Old Seahawks".

Re-signing Hutchinson may be just what the team needs.  He's older, but he's still a great player, and would make an outstanding mentor to the younger linemen on the team.  As an emotionally involved fan, I'm split.  I still vividly feel those feelings of betrayal and letdown when he scorned us for better pastures.  It still hurts.  But I also realize he'd be good for the team.  This is not the same Seahawks team he left, and there's no reason to assign correlation to the old front office.  Business is business in the NFL, and this is no different.

So how does this story apply to the concept of deus ex machina?  Simple: it's the perfect example of how to write a story and avoid having to use it.  Thinking your plot through a little deeper allows you as a writer the ability to create wild, unexpected plot twists, without having to sideswipe your readers with something out of the blue, something that only serves to shove your plot in the direction you want it to go, but can't get your characters' actions to get it there.

So what if that bad guy wasn't really that bad a guy after all?  What if actions earlier were done for completely different reasons and motivations than were assumed?  Suddenly the dynamics of your plot shifts naturally, without the need for a character epiphany, or sudden change of heart, or mandate from an outside force.  In Hutch's case, he isn't having an unexpected change of heart.  He's not repenting, coming back to a team he spurned before.  He's operating exactly the same way he always has.  He's staying in character, making a move that's aligned in his best interests.  This new front office is looking for a capable, talented guard, and he could well be the man for the job.  It makes perfect sense now, even if such an ending would have been viewed as completely absurd halfway through the story.

I don't know about other Seahawks fans, but I think I'd be willing to root for him again in blue and green.  The unlikely story will have come full circle.  What was once thought impossible is now possible, because things weren't quite as we once thought they were.  It's not exactly ironic, but it is about as unexpected a plot twist as one can imagine.

And is it just me, or is it poetic justice that it's all happening on the Ides of March?

Update:  So we don't get our happy ending.  He's accepted a three-year contract with the Tennessee Titans, reuniting him with former teammate Matthew Hasselbeck, at least for now.  Still, the sentiment stands. And of course, your story is your own.  You can write the ending any damn way you please.

Movie Review: Carrie

In light of recent news that a remake of Stephen King's epic horror story Carrie is in the works, I thought this a perfect opportunity to do a review on this story.  It was originally a novel - King's first of many masterpieces - but I'm primarily reviewing the movie here.  The movie differs from the book a good deal, which this gives me a chance not only to address those differences, but to speak my mind on the prospect of a remake, which I'll get into a little later.  And truthfully, this is as much a book review as a movie review.  I'm calling it a movie review because I address the movie more so than the novel, even though the novel is the far stronger work.

Photo © Jonathan Dalar

The story opens with the scene in the shower, where Carrie has her first menstrual period.  It's a total shock to her, and understandable as we learn later from a glimpse into her upbringing.  The scene is gratuitous, graphic, but necessarily so.  It provides stark contrast between Carrie and the other girls in the school, and lets us know immediately as viewers just what that relationship is.  It's a wonderful example of an author showing, not telling, in a story.

It's a solidly character-driven story.  As it progresses, it's really more about the characters and their relationships than it is about plot.  It's about Carrie's fight for normalcy, and her fight against her mother's abuse and restrictive parenting.  The reasons for this are explained much more clearly in the original novel - Carrie's mother is overcome by fundamentalist religious mania, exacerbated by signs of mental illness.  Her mother abuses Carrie and further complicates problems at school because of her eccentric, authoritarian behavior.

We begin to see that the writing's already on the wall for Carrie as the other students begin to make vicious plans behind her back.  She's naturally skeptical of her new-found fortune when she is invited to the prom by one of the cool guys in school, but eventually believes his sincerity.  And he is sincere; those plans are being made without his knowledge as well.

It's definitely a horror story; without those elements, there is no story, simply a teenage girl learning about coming of age.  A large part of that horror is the interaction between the characters.  The horror of human treachery, deceit, and cruelty is often far worse than any amount of blood and gore.  It's a more cerebral horror, one that creeps up on you in the night, when you're not expecting it, instead of slapping you in the face.  And this is where Carrie shines.  The pacing is slow enough to allow the viewer to think about the base evilness at play before much of the action actually happens, and the foreshadowing, as we learn more about Carrie's terrible secret ability, allows suspense to build to the climax.

To me, the key moments in the story are the first moments of the prom, before things turn ugly.  Carrie is there, beautiful in her new dress, the school's star quarterback on her arm, and basking in the sudden but welcome changes in her life.  She has defied her mother's wishes by attending, and she is surprisingly thrust into the roll of prom queen, no longer an outcast.

That moment is key, because it is a life-changing moment, no matter what happens after.  At that precise time, we as viewers recognize that if she were to continue along this path, allowed to escape the devious plans set up for her, her life would change forever for the better.  No longer would she have the crippling self doubt, fearing ostracism and torment from the other students.  And if those plans continue unopposed, the point of no return in the opposite direction will have been reached.

Several things in the movie differ from the novel, and the ending is one such critical difference.  In the movie, the story's ending is weaker, even as it is more prolonged and expanded upon.  Sometimes telling less of the story is a good thing.  Much like lingerie, forcing one to guess what's underneath often does wonders for the experience.  We know what happened without being explicitly told, which allows our minds to fill in the lurid details.

Throughout the novel, we are given excerpts from newspapers, legal documents, and personal accounts of the incident.  We're told the story from the perspective of a town trying to regain composure and put all the pieces back together, both the pieces of the shattered community, and the details of exactly what happened.  In the movie there is none of this, and we lose that perspective, which is a vital one.  That perspective allows us to take a closer look at some of the reasons behind the actions.  Gaining the insight of intent and motive allows us a more intimate experience.

There's nothing new under the sun, and that's especially true in Hollywood, where it's easier to stick to the tried and true formulas and endless sequels and remakes.  After all, they've already established a pattern of success, making it easier to build future success from.  But if they're going to do a remake, Carrie is an excellent candidate.  After all, it's been 36 years since the original hit theaters, and it's one of the best classic horror films of all time.  The original movie is quite obviously set in the 1970's, so a remake now would have a completely different feel.  To put it in perspective, it featured John Travolta in his debut movie roll.

My take?  This new remake could be awesome, and it could be disastrous.  If it sticks close to the novel as it's rumored to, it'll likely be great, because the novel's key themes of ostracism, child abuse, peer pressure, and the limits of human psychological endurance are what drives the horror home.  It could also provide a fresh look at the story, updating it with a more modern take, which could be a boon for the younger generation of horror fans.

It could also flop badly, at least in terms of the retelling, if not the box office.  Having Lindsay Lohan play the leading roll of Carrie would be, in my humble opinion, a bad decision.  It's not that she couldn't pull it off in terms of personality and looks, it's that she's over a decade too old for the part.  She wouldn't make a very convincing Carrie at all, especially not considering the opening credits when Carrie has her very first period.  Hailee Steinfeld, reportedly also in consideration, would be a much better option, as she did a solid job in the remake of True Grit.

So, yea, I have high hopes for the new movie, even as I have reservations.  There are so many more great tools available to movie makers today, with advances in CGI and other special effects.  And even with some of the recent disappointments in mind, this could be the epic rebirth of a classic horror tale, the opportunity to bring the story from the old, yellowed pages of the original novel to the silver screen the way it should be done.

Both the book and movie versions are available.

Book Review: 1984

When reading or watching a work of speculative fiction, it's easy to see why the genre easily becomes dated and appears old fashioned or very simple in its basic premises of scientific innovation.  Science fiction films of the 1950's, 60's and 70's provide numerous examples.

Even some of the works of the last couple of decades appear outdated with the advances in technology we've seen.  Technological discoveries have increased exponentially over the last century, and even more so over the last few years.

This means a work of science fiction has a far greater chance of becoming dated even sooner than before.  So how is it that some are able to stand the test of time to become classics, still viable after years?  Let's take a look at a great example of one that has.

George Orwell's dystopian novel Nineteen Eighty-Four has been a classic for many years, and still stands as cutting social commentary in today's world.  Not only this, many of the unique words or phrases he used in the novel are a part of today's vernacular.  We use the terms "thought police", "doublespeak", "groupthink", and "Big Brother" nowadays without hardly a thought as to their origins.  In fact, even the author's name in the adjectival "Orwellian", has come to mean that of a totalitarian agenda, referring to revisionist history and manipulation of perception.  The book itself conveys thoughts of nationalism, surveillance, privacy, and censorship, topics which are very much at the forefront of today's headlines.  If anything, it becomes more and more valid as time goes by.  Not bad for a novel first published in 1949.

So how did he do it?  How did Orwell create such a masterpiece, that rings true and current even today and well into the future?  How did he create a work of science fiction that does not seem to age much at all, even with the relatively recent explosion of new technology?

He used themes which are at the core of every civilization, and which strike chords close to everyone on an individual level.  He made humanity the core element of his plot, with themes anyone can relate with.  He did not rely solely on technology to drive the plot.  And while technology does move the plot, with cameras and two-way television screens, the main force is of a very real human nature.  The real focus of the book was the nature of the relationship between a government and its civilians, and even more compelling, the way the government turned each and every one of its citizens into spies against the rest.

The bad guy as it turns out in the book is much more than the ubiquitous Big Brother.  While government entities under sanction of Big Brother are hard at work monitoring, censoring, and revising history, its very citizens are spying on each other.  Everyone is a willing participant in the persecution they themselves are subject to, because although they never really know who's watching, someone is always watching.  Whether it's an undercover agent of the Thought Police or a next door neighbor, when one is turned in for unacceptable behavior, it really doesn't matter who it was that turned them in.  This perpetuates the cycle, and ingrains it into the children of the society who are taught warped ideals and beliefs from an early age.

Nineteen Eighty-Four is a fascinating tale that strikes to the core of our sense of values, morals and humanity.  It gives us a horribly chilling view of a terrifying society at one extreme end of the spectrum, while offering a glimpse at the core of real humanity on a very personal level.

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and George Orwell's masterpiece is a prime example of this.  The book has been adapted a number of times in film, television, stage, radio, and many other media forms.  It's seen countless derivatives spring up over the years, and has been the inspiration behind huge numbers of creative works.  It's been a tremendous inspiration to me in my own writing, and I'm certain many other authors can say the same.

All in all, it's one of the best pieces of literature to come from the last century, and is something everyone should have on their bookshelf or in their e-reader.

Exploring Speculative Fiction

When I was younger, science fiction was pretty simple.  In my world, you had space travel, and you had time travel.  Astronauts, aliens, time travelers - there wasn't much else.  Other forms were out there in various forms, but that's what it seemed like to me.

Nowadays there are almost as many sub-categories of the genre as there are genres of fiction.  Scores of new sub-genres have sprung up over the years and obscure ones have expanded to the point where science fiction isn't even the over-arching category.  Really it's all speculative fiction, which encompasses science fiction, fantasy, horror, alternate history, utopian, dystopian, cyberpunk, apocalyptic, post-apocalyptic, the paranormal, superhuman or superhero, and anything which touches on things (so far) outside the realm of possibility, including those with fantasy and horror elements.

Straight science fiction, as I've heard it explained, is comprised of two basic elements.  Science or scientific principles must be key to moving the plot forward, and the basic underlying theme is one of humanity vs. technology.

Of course, there are many varied schools of thought on this, and many different definitions of what comprises science fiction, what its elements are, and how it is defined.  Pick your favorite.  They're equally valid.

I like my definition, because it's simple, and because it strikes to the core elements of the genre.  Because of this, it helps to define it more clearly in the reader's or viewer's eyes.

The Terminator demonstrates this school of thought nicely, and coincidentally also falls into one of those two categories of my childhood - time travel.  Science is a definite plot vehicle in this story, because without time travel - one of the key scientific elements - the plot is nonexistent.  Even more broadly, time travel and the existence of sentient technology are both vital elements of the plot.

Secondly, the underlying theme of the entire story, from the first movie through the last movie or television series, is one of man vs. machine.  It calls into question our self-destructive relationship with technology and provides a worst-case scenario of that relationship gone terribly wrong.

Many more of the classics can be viewed the same way.  Philip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, or the more widely known movie adaptation, Bladerunner is one such story.  If it wasn't for androids and their attempts to return to earth from Martian colonies, there would be no plot.  And this story more so than almost any other speaks directly to the contradictory relationship between humanity and technology.

The speculative fiction genre has exploded in every direction.  Bruce Bethke and William Gibson put cyberpunk firmly on the map.  Space westerns and stories of space colonization are becoming more and more common following such stories as Joss Whedon's Firefly and Serenity, and the more recent Avatar and Cowboys vs. Aliens, and the reboots of the classic Planet of the Apes movie series.  Virtual reality remains a common element, with movies like The Matrix and sequels, and the Tron reboot continuing to expand the sub-genre.

One of the keys to speculative fiction is that while it must remain fresh and believable, it is very perishable in nature.  A story that seems new and postmodern at its debut seems antiquated and outdated after a few years of real technological advances.  If you're looking for proof of this, dig out that old video cassette recording of Lawnmower Man, or watch some of the 1950's science fiction reruns.  See what I mean?  Archaic!

To a science fiction author, this means keeping on the cutting edge.  It means constantly struggling to keep up with the latest moves in technology, and trends of where society is heading.  It means consistently updating manuscripts and rewriting outdated material with subsequent edits.  It's a tough job, but a fun one.  And with so many different and exciting possibilities in the world of speculative fiction, it's one I wouldn't trade for the world.

Conformist Thinking Outside the Box

You know the quote.  Nothing's new under the sun.  That saying goes back a long, long way, which makes it all the more true now.  When the movie Avatar came out, it was hyped as one of the most groundbreaking movies of all time.  Well, they certainly weren't talking about its originality, that's for sure.

Most things coming from commercial entertainment sources - Hollywood, book producers, video games, television shows - are simply repackaged, canned cookie-cutter retreads of something that's been done before, and often better.  I Am Legend screwed over the original ending and completely schwacked the entire point of the movie, all to make it more commercial.  Since then, they've packaged the original ending as a special "alternate ending".  The box office is completely filled with remakes and sequels nowadays, to the point where the International Union for Conservation of Nature is considering adding originality to their list of endangered species.  And how many clone cop/court/investigator television shows are there now?

It's the same with books.  YA has exploded to huge popularity.  Just the other day in the book store, I saw Ender's Game repackaged and reprinted as YA.  It's always appealed to a younger audience as much as an adult one, but was never marketed as such.  I guess they have to grab their share of the market while they can.  Hell, if you're not writing about zombies, sparkly vampires, teen school angst, or even better, a combination of those, your chances for publication drop considerably.

But everyone is still looking for that outside-the-box original idea.  The next new thing to hit.  Something that's different from all the rest of the commercial slush out there.  If you've got that idea, you've got a good chance at success.  And seeing it turn into commercial slush just like all the rest of it out there.  Once something is out there, the model for its success is copied and honed to perfection until it's originality is perfect - just like everything else.

They won't plagiarize, but as Avatar mutely attests to, they come as close to it as humanly possible to mimic the pattern of success they know works as a business model.  Publishing is the same way, and it isn't going to change until an outside impetus jolts it from the cycle.  Your main character is too young?  Turn the story YA or rewrite to make him older.  Didn't finish with that happy ending?  Unless it's blatantly horror, you've got to change it.  Even if it's horror, a rewrite might be suggested.  Subject matter outside the boundaries of normal commercial fiction?  Sorry, we're going to have to pass on this one.  Best of luck elsewhere.

So what is that impetus?  What can bring about the change from this blatant commercialized process of rubber stamping all the cookie-cutter clones for the masses?  The indie market, whose authors aren't bound by someone else's decision of what's going to work?  Society, whose ever expanding sense of normalcy simply screams loud enough for something well off the beaten path?  The pros themselves, in an attempt to outdo each other for that latest avant garde success, or to stay viable amid the fears of an ever-growing independent push?

Hard to say.  Maybe it won't happen at all.  Maybe things will continue to get churned out for the masses and dumbed down to the point where entertainment is purely mindless escapism.  It's almost there now, after all.  I'd like to think originality has a chance.  I hope it does.

Writing Science Fiction

Writing science fiction is tough.  Or rather, writing good science fiction is tough.  Anyone can churn out Star Wars-esque fan fiction.  Writing an original piece, complete with its own logical science and believable steps in technology is a lot harder.  In fact, I'd venture a guess it's at least as hard as any other type of fiction out there.

When I started writing The Plexus a few years back, it started out simple.  Actually, if truth were told, it started out a long, long time before that.  For the first decade and a half, it was nothing more than a cute beginning and ending of a short story, one that went in a circular pattern and left everything precisely the way it was in the beginning.  Sort of a "did this really happen" thing.  I didn't even have the story itself for the longest time.

And when that story came, boy did it come!  The story burgeoned into a novella and then a regular novel.  Then it burped into a trilogy and is now a tidy nine-book series.  Don't worry, each book stands nicely on its own as a story.  There's just a whole lot more to the story, and I can't tell it all in a single book.

The story has been easy.  The story has practically written itself.  It just unfolds as the characters do their best to do things according to their varied and different morals and goals.  It's the technology that's been the more interesting Gordian's knot.

The whole thing is set a hundred and fifty years in the future.  At least that's when the major time continuum is.  Being a time travel piece, the characters obviously use time like Spock and Kirk use space.  Coming up with new, futuristic technology isn't the hard part.  It's bridging the gap between our technology today and what it would most likely morph into in the future that's the hard part.  It's making it a truly believable, logical part of the story that is so difficult.

Many science fiction pieces have hugely fanciful technology, developed it seems from the author's dreams of the coolest, most awesome technology imaginable.  Flying cars, space travel to distant planets in mere minutes, interstellar cruisers, space age weaponry, space stations the size of planets.  The list goes on and on.

My approach was different.  I wanted to create a world that was entirely believable.  In fact, so believable it would make the logical conclusions in the story undeniably frightening because of how personal they felt.  If I took technology from where we are today and projected it into the future using a framework of the pattern of development it's already taken, I'd arrive at a much more logical version of the future.

And that's what I did. I stripped out all the fanciful thoughts of über-cool futuristic modes of transportation such as flying cars, fantastic space age weaponry, and all the other sci-fi standards and concentrated on where things were headed now.

And where is that?  Communications.  The Internet.  Gadgetry.  Electronics.  The basics.  We've seen viewable media go from crackly black and white silent movies in the theater to our own homes, to flat screen HDTV, to portable devices, to streaming through our telephones.  Same goes for communication.  From early telegraphs to the latest Bluetooth technology running to miniature computers we call telephones, it's all going smaller and smaller, and more convenient to use.  That's a no-brainer.  The harder part is determining where it's going from there.

With the advent of hands free devices, we've seen a push toward automation and ease of use.  Our computers advertise to us based on how we surf the Internet.  The auto-correct features automatically correct our spelling, even if at times we don't want it to.  We can speak the name of who we want to call into our phones and they will dial the person for us.  If I really wanted to, I could simply talk my novels into the computer instead of typing them in with my fingers.  Everything is pushing onward toward what we think, rather than what we do.

And that's the logical conclusion.  Yes, it's been done before.  Thought control of technology.  Melding human with machine.  But what hasn't been done, or what has been done rarely, is push that to a societal level, one where that technology is created for the masses being entertained by the latest pop divas instead of the megalomaniac government agents or corporate tycoons in a hunt for absolute power.  It's all about the money.  Always has been and always will be.  And this means that the technology developed will sooner or later end up in Walmart, to be marketed to the masses.

The conclusion is there.  It's getting there from here that is the tricky part.  I'm essentially creating technology before it exists.  Hell, if I could actually do that, I'm in the wrong business!  Luckily I only have to look like I can do it.

The kinks arrive when the technology I've dreamed up starts thwarting my story's plot.  How is the technology of the future going to deal with identity theft?  Find a solution for that and it's going to sound plausible.   Of course, it's also going to throw a monkey wrench into one of my character's ability to actually survive in the world of the future, so I have to create workarounds in the technology to allow her and those like her to survive.  Of course, then I have to respond in kind with technology that addresses those weaknesses, because that's what happens.  That circle is quite vicious, and it's a delicate line I am forced to walk to allow both sides to coexist in the story and still have it make sense.

And then there are the logical conclusions one arrives to based on the technology I've already set up.  Those present other problems.  For example, integrating the virtual world with humanity will logically be done through the body's own optics.  This allows not only full integration with the virtual world, but also the ability for one's mind to interpret the input as needed, such as translating into their mother tongue, overcoming colorblindness, and even tailoring advertizing to suit their tastes better.  It's logical.  And of course, we're back to creating problems some of my characters can no longer overcome.

This delicate balance is absolutely vital in creating a realistic science fiction world.  Too little time is often put into science fiction works, and the authors rush their works off before giving them a look from the position of a harsh critic.  As soon as you start punching holes in the logic of something, especially technology in science fiction, you start having a problem with the story.  We've even seen it with some of the greats in the genre, and that's too bad.  It's tough work, but in the end it's worth it if it makes those elements of the story more believable.

Plot-based vs. Character-based

This is an interesting discussion, and while I'd like to point out that a great story had better have both great characters and great plot, there is a definite difference between the two in storytelling.

Let me explain.  First, let's get the basics out of the way and describe what makes a story plot-based, and what makes one character-based.  The essential difference is seen when we look at what drives the story along.  In one that is plot-based, the plot itself is what drives the story to conclusion.  Point A naturally leads to Point B, which then uncovers Point C, which leads us to the eventual Point D.  Things that happen along the way are what point the tale in the next direction.

But how is that different than any story, you might ask?  That's what plot does, after all.  Yes, that is what plot does, but it's not always what drives the story.  In a character-based story, it's the characters' decisions, based on who they are as a person that drive the plot.  It's their interaction with each other that makes the plot come together, not just what they must accomplish along the way.

Well, that's fine, you say, but characters interact with each other.  It's kind of their job as characters.  Again, yes.  But in this case, they're what pushes the plot along, not the other way around.  Let's look at a couple of examples.

The first story we'll look at is J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings.  While each character is unique, and brings a different perspective to the story, the story itself is plot-based.  There is a goal to achieve, and it really doesn't matter who is achieving it, the desired end result is the same.  Certain requisite tasks must be completed to satisfy the plot.  Sure, certain characters must do specific tasks, but it's still very task-based, not something that happens as a result of specific character interaction.  Frodo Baggins must return the ring to Mordor, and that is because of his unique character.  The thing is, anyone possessing that specific character trait would have made a fantastic substitute and the plot would have remained the same.

Now let's look at Alexander Nabokov's Lolita, a very character-based story.  The entire plot is driven by the interaction between Humbert Humbert and Dolores Haze.  Sure, there was an end goal in Humbert's mind, but it was specifically the interaction between him and his Lolita that caused the tale to go as it did.  Substitute a different Humbert and the story would have been much, much different.  Substitute a different Lolita, and she would also not have reacted the same way Dolores Haze did when confronted with any of the situations she was.  And each of the characters in the novel brought a different twist of the plot into the story with the way they reacted to what was going on.  The entire story revolves around how they react to each other's desires and motives with their own.

There is a theme here.  Many stories of action, suspense, and horror genres are plot-based, while many dramas are character-based.  But that's not to say there's a line drawn in the sand firmly separating each into respective sides.  An action piece can easily be a character-driven story.  I'm writing one right now, and it's firmly in the character-based camp.

Sometimes it isn't really all that obvious which a story is until you think about it.  They do overlap.  The way a character acts often drives the plot as much as anything, and many times things outside the realm of a character's motives influence the plot.  It really didn't dawn on me my latest sci-fi time travel romp was character-based until well into the story.  You might not tend to think of science fiction action stories as being all that character-based, after all.

The television series Firefly was, though.  That story was all about how the characters interacted among themselves, and you know if you were to have substituted any other character for one of them, things would have gone quite differently along the way.  It's the epitome of a character-based story.  And when you compare it to Star Wars, for example, the differences between what drives the action in both stories are obvious.  "Defeat the Empire by becoming a Jedi Knight, destroying the Death Star, and confronting Darth Vader" sounds far different than "Our previous contact had some serious issues with how we handled the last job, and that is having a direct impact on our current job".

Now that's not to say that characters are simply interchangeable in a plot-based tale either.  Hardly so.  The Indiana Jones movies are all very much plot-based, and I dare you to replace that iconic figure with anyone different and have it turn out nearly as well.  One could argue that same point with a number of great characters in plot-based stories.  They're great characters for a reason.  They just don't drive the story, the plot does.

If it isn't terribly obvious which side a story falls on, take a look at what causes the conflict or action.  Many times a plot-based story relies on a plot device to cause the action.  Two characters are fighting over the same thing.  Two characters want different results for the same quandary.  Compare that to a plot that hinges more on the action and reaction of the characters based on who they are as characters rather than simply their goals.  Another way to think of this discussion is in terms of a story being motive-based rather than goal-based.

So what's the best type of story, plot- or character-based?  Of course that's completely unanswerable.  At least I think so.  They're both great in their own way.  I like characters with a little more meat on their bones.  That is to say well rounded, and less cardboard-y.  That doesn't mean that plot-based stories lend themselves to cardboard characters, and it doesn't mean a good plot that really pulls the story along isn't necessary for character-driven stories either.  Both are essential elements of storytelling.

My bottom line is I use whatever moves the story in the right direction.  If it's the necessity of getting from Point A to eventual Point D, then I roll with it.  If it's letting the plot flow based on the interactions of the characters, their motives and decisions, then that works too.

Go with what works for your story.  If you figure out which type yours most closely follows, you might have an easier time figuring out what to do if the story stalls, but in the end, it really doesn't matter much.  As long as something pulls the plot along and makes it go somewhere.

Deus ex Machina

If you've written a story or two, you're probably guilty of using it.  I know I am.  I hate it, and try to avoid it at all costs, but sometimes it happens.  It's called deus ex machina, Latin for "god out of the machine", and it's a plot device used all too often to solve an issue or problem the author just can't quite wrap up the way he or she desires.  We see it all the time in books and movies.  We get right to the end of the story, and in order to resolve the issues in a satisfying manner, some kind of new event or character needs to intervene and set things right.  Who the hell is this guy, and where did he come from to save the day just in the nick of time?

Shakespeare used it in several of his plays.  Many other famous and talented writers have used it.  It's not just reserved for hacks and less talented writers.  It is common, though, and employed by both the talented and hacks alike.  In fact, it's probably more common than you might think, especially in today's Hollywood, where plot takes a backseat to special effects and viewership numbers.

It's been called pure laziness.  Shoddy writing.  Personally I can't stand it, and heckle it any chance I get, even if I am guilty of using it a time or two.  To me it signifies an author hasn't spent enough time crafting the story to a better outcome.  That the author doesn't care enough about the story to fix those issues correctly, or let the story end how it will.  The characters should determine the outcome of the story, not the author.

I think the problem stems largely from our desire to have a happy ending.  Nobody likes coming to the end of a good tale and finding out the characters they invested so much emotion in during the story die at the end.  Nobody likes being slapped with a healthy dose of reality after reading or watching a fantastic tale that allowed them to escape that brutal reality for a while.  It's inherent in who we are as humans, and it's probably never going to change.

So aside from giving in and settling on an ending that nobody's going to like because your characters got in over their heads, how does one avoid using deus ex machina as plot spackle to make it all better?  If I knew that answer, I'd probably be a lot better off than I am now.  That doesn't mean I don't have a few thoughts about how to avoid it, though.

The easiest way, as I mentioned earlier, is to just let the plot work out the way the characters make it.  It doesn't always end happily that way, but then, neither does life.  Sometimes people die, or get hurt, or get in trouble over their heads.  Sometimes things don't turn out the way we planned them to.  That's just the way life is.  It's not the sexy ending, but it is realistic.

But it doesn't have to be that way.  Your characters are resourceful.  They're well rounded and experienced.  They've probably got the answer somewhere.  You just have to get it out of them.  Experiment with them a little.  Tweak their reactions to something a bit.  Don't just go with the first reaction they might have and write it down.  Follow one reaction to its logical conclusion and switch it up a bit.  Chances are, you'll find some kind of combination that allows the conflict and tension you need in the story and the resolution you need to wrap it all up with a happy ending.

The stakes don't need to be all that high either.  We see more and more stories where all-or-nothing scenarios are played out.  The hero must save the world from imminent destruction in order to set things right, save the girl and live happily ever after.  Or at least until the sequel.  The problem with these types of scenarios is that they don't leave a lot of wiggle room for the writer.  If it's an all-or-nothing problem, the character really doesn't have a choice to make, meaning that the reader should already be well ahead of the game of figuring out how things are going to end.  If the reader has the ending figured out, the story either ends predictably, which is lame, or it has an unexpected twist.  And if the twist isn't set up right at the beginning, enter deus ex machina to save the day.

The same holds true for the fates of your characters.  If the hero and villain are put together in such a way that only one will walk away alive, there again isn't much doubt about how it's going to end.  Creating a storyline and characters who can interact with each other and live to tell about it sets up future conflict.  It also mitigates the need to make more and more bad guys to throw at the good guy as the story progresses.

If the stakes aren't as high, there are probably a number of ways the situation can be resolved, meaning there are far more options to the author, and greater suspense for the reader.  Yes or no questions pose an ultimatum, and create a situation with only one feasible ending.  By using open ended questions for plot construction, you've given the characters more ways to interact and get themselves back out of the pickle they've gotten themselves into.

But what if you really want the stakes that high?  After all, it's more exciting when there's more at stake in the story.  Giving the readers a good apocalyptic tale does have its advantages.  And you can still do that, if you set up the rules of engagement in the future to allow multiple possible happy endings.  You've got to delve into the plot more than just superficially.  You've got to spend some time running decisions in the story to their logical conclusions.  It takes a lot of hard work and careful thought to come up with a good plot that follows through clear to the end.  But doing so is rewarding.  If you're willing to spend the extra effort to avoid letting deus ex machina save the day for you, your story will probably be a whole lot better.