On Defining Sexy

Richard III "The White Queen"

Juliet Barnes "Nashville"

I realize I may be making an idiot of myself with this topic but I find this to be an interesting and important concept to a writer. I’ll make an early note that I’m not going into the depths of erotic definitions, so if you’re seeking that, E.L. James has a trilogy of books you might like or love to hate that made her millions, with an upcoming film.  By the way, congratulations to Ms. James, her work, her success.

The first time I thought about the definition of “sexy” was back last century when I was still a swinging single in the mid-80s.  I had it all:  The massive hair, dark suntan, black eyeliner, bright colored clothes, and moonlighting a bit as a model.  While at dinner with my loser boyfriend soon to be an ex, he tells me that I look sexy, but I’m not sexy. 

Ouch!  Excuse me?  Yes, I was more than a bit irritated.  So he pointed out my “non-sexy” attributes.  Of course, my looks were sexy until I opened my post college potty mouth, a terrible mix of Valley Girl and typical mainstream bestseller dialogue.  If I sat still and said nothing, he said I was “sexy.”  He became an ex very soon, but I couldn’t disagree with him.  Seeing a person may look sexy.  But meeting, talking, all of it needs to fit together. 

This fall, a group of us on Twitter had a lot of fun watching the ace Starz series “The White Queen” and swooned over Richard III’s character, played by talented and cute Welsh actor Aneurin Barnard.  Not being short on cute guys, like Max Irons or David Oakes, why did we go nuts over Richard?  Answer:  I think we were drawn to him because of his complexity; he showed honor, vulnerability, loyalty, and flaws.  He was a sexy character.

For the girls, for obvious reasons, sexy is harder to define.  But in the show “Nashville” Juliet displays many similar traits as she is beautiful, destructive, but her heart breaks easily.  A tough girl like her keeps going.  Overall, she’s a sexy character.

While I think “sexy” is often in the eye of the beholder, there must be some complication in the character, some vulnerability, and some darkness.  People are drawn to mystery, and if none is there, it’s just another pretty face.

On Those Great Good Guys

"Man of Steel"

As a dark fantasy writer, I’ve written before how the forces of good and evil stand so strong in our minds and attract us to the “superhero” or fantasy concept; of people having abilities or cleverness beyond our own to achieve the defeat of an evil entity.  While I’m a strong proponent of the importance of a well written, but not necessarily understood antagonist, the protagonist gleams as always as the lead character in most stories.

I use a flawed, anti-heroine in my stories, but I don’t deny the strength of the old-fashioned, manly, good looking, noble, standup, fight-it-out for the people we see like favorites in comics like Superman, Batman, or in stories like King Arthur being the picture of chivalry (and infidelity in some books, but never mind). 

What keeps drawing us to these characters, now remade many times in blockbuster films after originating in simplistic comic books?  Answer:  At some point to me, it brings back the kid in us, an innocence, when we could really believe a really good guy would always win, and do it the right way, not by a slaughter, but catch the bad guy and bring him to justice.  That’s the way the world is supposed to be. 

Another draw to these awesome powerful protagonists is their great power, especially the nearly omnipotent Superman.  I don’t know a guy that doesn’t like Superman (or a girl that doesn’t like the actors), and want to see him defeat the challenge posed by either native Kryptonians as in “The Man of Steel” or Lex Luthor to find some kryptonite in traditional Superman stories. 

As a writer of a complex, dark lead character and a bona fide “Game of Thrones” nut of the series and the books, I like to think of the strong good guy model for stories as going back to the basics.  (GRRM obviously isn’t sold on the good guy thing).  We fans of fiction like good guys.  And yes, we still like the really, really good guys, that play by the rules and are always awesome.

Bonnie’s Final Story

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“When did he say he’d be back?”  Said Shevata, slumped in the corner of Zermon’s throne before the huge firepit.  The surrounding black terrace lit up with red and orange flames echoing the sounds of agonized souls from the bottom of the fire.  She found Hell distasteful enough as Zermon’s prisoner, but again to do his job of dealing with unruly souls was beyond her tolerance limit.  The imps shrugged in answer to her question as they always did; stupid, unhelpful little monsters. 

A young woman was escorted before her.  Shevata sat cross-legged, wishing she could sleep.  “What is this?”  She said to the imps.

“My name is Bonnie.”  Said the woman.

“So?”  Said Shevata.

“I think I deserve a chance to explain myself.”

Shevata raised an eyebrow.  “In Hell?” 

“I’ve got my reasons.” 

“Make it fast.”

She looked down and pretended to wipe a tear from her face.  “You don’t look like the Devil.”  Said Bonnie.   

 Shevata smiled.  “You’re running low on time.”  

“Look, I just wanted my dreams to come true.  Don’t you know what that’s like?  Being stuck somewhere and can’t get out?  Knowing your life will be nothing?”  Her eyes sparkled in the fire, and Shevata understood why this woman thought she could talk her way out of the underworld.

“This is Hell.  Of course I understand.”  Said Shevata. 

“Since you understand, then you know I did some bad things and I know that.  But I had my reasons, and I think I should have another chance.”

Shevata leaned forward.  “You sold your soul to Zermon and ensured your destiny with the first person you murdered.”  Bonnie started to weep.  Shevata said,  “I’m not finished.  The man, the Texas Ranger that led the attack that killed you?  I offered him my soul.”   Bonnie then broke down crying on the terrace in front of the throne.  Shevata leaned back into the corner.  “Take her away and find Zermon before I find him myself.”

On Dark Fantasy Poetry

I’ll admit on this blog, I tend to focus on many genres and have given little attention to poetry.  It’s not that I don’t like poetry; I tend to not run across it as much as I do novels.  With this book, not only is my main genre Dark Fantasy is the focus, but the style is short haiku-like poems throughout, something I haven’t seen often, and to me, a very fun read.

“Words of the Weary King” by A. S. Washington

This collection of simple poems takes in the collective mind of Dark Fantasy as a whole.  All the way from Beheading to Jester, each piece is a little piece of the larger picture of what all of us see as something very powerful in our minds; the very essence of medieval dark fantasy.  This fast, easy read in the form of poetry is a delightful reminder that fantasy need not be told in epic novels or action stories.  Good writing can carry the message regardless of the method, when done well.  Five stars!

My favorite of his poems:

Assassin

Where is your blade?

You’ve not hidden your intent

It is in your eyes

Readers, sometimes less is more. 

On the Confederacy of Genius

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When I do interviews about being an author, the often-asked question is “What is your favorite novel?”  That’s always a tough question to answer, and for me, I’m inspired by almost all fiction and non-fiction when it comes to my writing.  Films inspire me as well, with the many years of migraine headaches had me looking at a screen less stressful then reading words in books, so for many years, I didn’t read many books. 

I come from a family of educators from my mother’s side of the family, and my aunt, her sister, now a retired high school history teacher, is well known to us for being well read and never reading fiction.  But I remember her telling me in the early 80s about the book “A Confederacy of Dunces.”  She told me to make sure I read it, and guaranteed it would have my side aching with laughter. 

Impressed with this recommendation from a family member that reads only historic texts and made this novel an exception, back then I went with her recommendation.  I didn’t laugh as I read.  I didn’t giggle.  I threw the book down, laughing uncontrollably with tears running down my face, only to pick it up again to start the second chapter.  When I met my future husband, our early relationship wasn’t hurt by me seeing a copy of this one-of-a-kind novel proudly displayed with his hardback copies of “Lord of the Rings.” 

To summarize the Pulitzer-Prize winning novel, published and rewarded following the tragic suicide of author John Kennedy Toole (see the forward by Walker Percy), the lead character Ignatius Reilly begins the story standing on Canal Street in New Orleans, obese, dressed in out-of-season bizarre clothing, looking for distaste in others.  From there, a large cast of characters are introduced while the reader laughs through the pages, finding out in the end how and why each character has an important but hilarious role in the story. 

When I think about “A Confederacy of Dunces” I get angry with myself about forgetting to mention it in more interviews.  For a novel so “unforgettable” how can one forget it?  I think it’s because there’s nothing like it out there.  I lived in the New Orleans area for a while and can connect Toole’s descriptions with the housing and the details of the city still present today.  In checking about films based upon this outstanding work, like so many originals, Hollywood isn’t ready to take the leap of faith to make a film from it.  As I think about it, while it’s disappointing the film industry hasn’t tried, but with this level of masterpiece the translation into film would be a most difficult task.

Readers of all genres, if you haven’t read “A Confederacy of Dunces” I highly recommend that you check this out.  I haven’t met anyone that didn’t like it yet, though naysayers are everywhere.  In thinking of the author Toole committing suicide because no one would publish his work, I think now he would like to see laughter from his work than the sadness it came from.  Meet Ignatius Reilly, the zany cast of characters, and as they say in New Orleans, “Let the Good Times Roll.”

On “Step Back” Stories

"The Exorcist"

Growing up in rural poverty gave me few advantages, but one of them was when my mother decided to end the disaster she and her daughters were headed for and went back to college while I was in upper grade school.  From then on she emphasized reading as much as possible, and would bring home books for me to read from astronomy to gothic cathedrals. 

My mother also tended to let me read bestselling novels before I was a teenager.  I’ve written before that I learned a bit too much by reading bestsellers so young, as ill language uttered by me clueless to its meaning left a couple of forgettable public moments.  But overall, I learned more good than bad, and Mom often would review some of the books’ contents, especially if it were considered to be controversial.

Needless to say, my favorite book at the time was “The Exorcist” by William Peter Blatty.  Years passed before I ever saw the film since I was much too young when it came out and no one that would take kids to films would take us to that one.  To me, reading the book was like knowing a secret the other kids didn’t.  I was too young to really absorb the dark messages of the novel, so I read aloud most of the icky vomit effects to my sister and whispered the disturbing religious parts that were “a bad thing.”

As adult, I now enjoy this horror film now considered a classic, not only for the disturbing religious story, but also for the message that screams through louder than all of the demons do at once while trapped in young Regan’s body.  By the end of the film, I see the point is not about the girl, not about the demonic possession, but it’s about the young priest that had lost his faith.  This point shines as the elder priest had the faith, but not the physical ability to battle the demons, but the younger priest had only himself, and found redemption in the end by giving himself to possession and saving the girl by destroying himself.

I think of stories like this as “step back” stories, because to get the message one has to look beyond the intensity to see the big picture the writer is giving us.  Sometimes with so much emotional and dramatic detail, it’s easy to get lost, but when we see the message ring clear, it remains with us forever, as great stories do.

On Our Lifetime Revolution

"Revolutionary Road"

I’ve blogged in the past about the famous “Blame it on the ‘burbs” novel “Revolutionary Road” by Richard Yates.  Published in the early 1960s, it captured the constricted lives of American families living in the 1950s post WWII era, with emphasis placed on family, safe neighborhoods, and the husband supporting the household while the wife remained home and raised the children.  In the novel, as well as the film, the tragic ending turns many off, and I admit it takes another look to appreciate the very strong message that Yates gave us in his novel.

For a brief summary, the couple Frank and April Wheeler lives in these traditional middle class conditions with two children, and she gets an idea to move to Paris to live.  They have a history of believing they were special, with some destination to greater achievements than their middle class peers.  Frank goes along with it to calm his wife’s raging temper, but doubts escalate with a job promotion and come to a head when April becomes unexpectedly pregnant.  As their marriage falls apart, with Frank unable to deal with April’s temper, and April realizing Frank had no more aspiring ambition other than suburban life, the story ends in tragedy when she attempts to abort her pregnancy.

First, critics still applaud Yates as a writer that had the nerve not to “rescue” his characters.  In the film, “Titanic” fans of the Winslet/DiCaprio couple saw a let down of the opposite of forbidden love in “Revolutionary Road.” To me, DiCaprio gave one of his best dramatic performances since “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.” (His best work by far).

Going back to the message left us by Yates, I remember the days when I was finishing college and along with my friends I thought there were better places to be, better people to be with than where I was, in Mississippi.  Our circle spoke often of moving to large cities like New York, Atlanta, or Chicago.  When I graduated from college with a degree as a lab technician, I got a day shift job in Fort Worth Texas by a telephone interview.  When my personal life fell apart, instead of staying home, I moved to the New Orleans area.  I admit my time as a swinging single in a big city was well spent learning a lot about life in general, every night is not a party, bills must be paid, and Mr. Right doesn’t arrive on a white horse.

When I met Mr. Right, I found myself back in my home state of Mississippi, where I least expected it.  Did my dreams come true?  Yes, but not like I actually dreamed them to be, which is what real life is really about.  I hit milestones with marriage, medical training, and the tough realization that I’d never have children.

“Revolutionary Road” tells us that some point in our maturity, we must stop dreaming and accept what we have as our life.  Can we keep dreaming afterwards?  Of course!  Like the Wheelers, we all think we’re special in some way; if we didn’t we’d never do anything at all.  What Yates reminds us is that dreams can make us lose our way and bring destruction the point everything can be lost.