Bad Stories and Good Fans

The other night I watch a documentary about a movie I haven’t seen. Well, the title Best Worst Movie caught my attention. And I had, at least, heard of Troll 2.

Have you seen Troll 2? Even if you haven’t, watch the documentary.

At one point, people in the film talk about how something badly done is still great if done with passion, love. Though they also say that is true of a film, not of a book.

I’ve heard people say a movie is so bad it’s good.

Does anyone ever say that about a book?

Do you love a movie that is so bad it’s good? A book? Anything?

Another moment from the documentary I could discuss–if someone were hear to listen to me!–was George Hardy’s reaction to the horror film fans. (Hardy is a dentist who starred in Troll 2.) Now, I don’t like horror films, but I love those crazy fans. Sci-fi fans, horror fans, fans who wait in lines, fans who collect insane amounts of memorabilia. They have passion. I don’t like apathy, and these folks are not apathetic. Even if I don’t get what they love, at least they love.

Good for them.

The other day someone on facebook–good ol’ facebook–posted about how he thought people who write fanfic are wasting their time. Well, okay. That’s his opinion. But he said he spent a lot of time trying to convince the fanfic writers how wrong they were to write their fan stories.

Would you try to convince these people they’re wasting their time? Is that true? Have you ever written fan fiction?

If you had (have) a novel published, and someone out there loved your characters so much, that person wrote more stories about the world you created, how would you feel? (And I don’t mean people who steal your work and call it their own. Maybe you still call it stealing, but if they’re honest about–hey, this is fan fiction–would you be bothered or flattered?

I’d be flattered.

Hug me! I’m a blog post!

Have you started laughing and been unable to stop? Most likely this has happened when you weren’t supposed to laugh at all.

Years ago, I went with friends to Steve Martin’s film LA Story. In one scene, Martin’s character, Harris, stops to talk to one of those highway signs that light up and give drivers information, like slow down, heavy traffic. But to him the sign flashes, “Hug me.”

“What?” Harris asks.

“I’m a sign post.”

Only a few people in the theater laughed. There weren’t that many people anyway. But I started laughing and couldn’t stop. Several minutes later my friends asked me if I was okay or if I needed to leave. But the more I tried to stop, the more I laughed.

I couldn’t even repeat the story without laughing and tears.

Nobody else thought it was that funny.

“Hug me! I’m a sign post!”

My friends would give me that look. You know. That look you get when you’ve said something people don’t know how to respond to.

“But it’s a sign post!”

Other than Sara Jessica Parker writing her name on the palm of her hand, I don’t remember anything else about that movie.

This week I’ve been reading a novel I wrote. (Unpublished!) I haven’t looked at it in a long time. Some scenes I love. What was happening to the characters was awful, but I love certain scenes. Reading them I feel happy, like I can write, like I could actually be published one day!

And I want to hand those scenes to someone and say read them! (Hug them!)

But I think the sign post is funny, and nobody else does.

This worries me.

Read me!

What?

I’m a writer!

Kill Them All!

I’ve just killed someone. Well, a fictional someone. A fictional character that I quite liked.

She was young. And sympathetic. I wanted her to live, but that seemed…so unlikely. I’ve killed characters before…this one just bothered me more than usual.

Maybe I’ve watched too much of Stranger than Fiction.

Am I killing a character because it makes sense or for shock value or to end the story when I can’t think of anything else?

How do you know?

How many characters have you killed? Do you ever bad about it?

Maybe Epic

This may be meaningless to you, but did you know that today was the 34th birthday of Star Wars?

I was nine. I saw it in an old theater with balconies. I went with my dad, his second wife, and her youngest daughter. My father and I loved it. My step-sister thought it was okay–but the guys were cute. And my step-mother hated it.

But who cares about that?

And maybe you don’t like it.

But that film influenced thousands. What if you ever wrote something that had that kind of impact? It’s a bit harder to get that with print, but JK Rowling managed it. Can you aspire to a story on that scale or does it happen with the writer not even realizing what is coming next?

My stories are certainly not epic. No maybe about that. But I have finished story 25! Really it’s a story drop in the world’s narrative bucket (or maybe that should be ocean).

“Stay on target!”