Handwritten vs. Typed

I've always been a good typist. On average I do about 88 wpm (words per minute) with 0-1% error. Ever since I graduated from SUNY Fredonia, I almost exclusively write using a computer. It's easier and faster (and more coherent) for me to get my thoughts out before I lose them. It also makes the editing process approximately eight gigabillion times easier.

However, every once in a great while I'm in a situation where I don't have a computer handy. Let's say if I'm in a meeting or in a class or out at a bar. Napkins or a notepad will do just fine in those instances. Heck, it's what I used to use almost exclusively during high school and a good chunk of college.

I got to my class last night with close to two hours to spare before the professor got there to get things started. I'd come up with a great idea while parking the car, and jotted down the summary of the story in my notebook while waiting for a grande hot chocolate (that's right - Starbucks).

What started as a four sentence summary turned into a 300+ word short story (it really doesn't take that long, but yes, I had enough spare time to count each word by hand). Because of my mood and the tone of the story (mainly depressed/overwhelmed/troubled), I don't think using a computer would have permitted me to fully embrace my inspiration. There's something soothing, yet gritty, about writing by hand - especially when it's a hard boiled detective story.

UPDATE (04/19/2010)
 Since transcribing that story into a Word document, the word count has more than doubled because I've been able to fill in some gaps, produce better transitions, reduce confusing plot points, and generally improve the story.  There's still more to do, of course, but, as is stated by Egg Shen in Big Trouble In Little China, "See? That was nothing. But that's how it always begins. Very small."

Guilty Pleasure

BACKGROUND TO MY GUILTY PLEASURE
I'm a pretty big fan of The Soup (with Joel McHale). I've actually been watching the show so long I sometimes have a senior moment and refer to it as 'Talk Soup', for which my younger friends mock me.

[insert sad face here]

One early evening, my wife demands I stop doing dishes to watch The Soup (how dare she watch it without me?). I can't complain, but it's got to be something outrageously hilarious for her to ask me to stop washing dishes.

My mind was blown when I saw James Franco of all people on some random soap opera.

I happen to also be a fan of James Franco (I find his intermittent lisp endearing) and all of his shenanigans (such as the all too brief video series, "Acting with James Franco").

There's no good reason for James Franco to be on a soap opera; and he's practically laughing as he delivers his lines. Marie and I have no choice but to agree with Joel McHale and assume that he lost a bet.

MY GUILTY PLEASURE
Soap operas. That's right, I said it. I enjoy watching soap operas, and I blame James Franco. My curiosity was piqued after seeing that clip on The Soup.

I'll admit that I used to watch soap operas with one of my (three!) older sisters, but that was mainly to mock her (love ya, sis!). So I do have some background on which to judge the new generation of soap opera writers, actors and crew.

The CHARACTERS are just as archetypal, trite and carnal as ever, motivated by a gross exaggeration of the seven deadly sins, of course. The quality of the ACTORS has somehow gone down as many of them habitually stumble over their lines and stutter. If it were only one actor doing this, I could let it slide as him/her just plain old acting.  But trust me, this is not the case.  The WRITING is, as much as I hate to admit it, quite entertaining.  The plot arcs are just as over the top as ever.  The dialogue is still mostly exposition, but often sultry (sorry - I'm a sucker for sultry dialogue).

Considering I'm known as a "*story snob," it might strike you as odd that I would watch something so horrible. Indeed, indeed. But it's like watching a train wreck. You just can't pull yourself away from it! And eventually you get sucked in and it becomes an amusement.

I don't go out of my way to watch soaps, and because I'm only a casual watcher the story arcs are more twisted and ridiculous, and they'd be even more confusing if it wasn't for all that exposition they throw in there.

So, in conclusion, "Damn you, James Franco, and damn whoever you lost that bet to that put you on whatever that soap opera was that piqued my curiosity into soap operas! But, guiltily, thank you as well, because I do enjoy them, but I don't want to! Damn you!"

*Interchangeable with: literary or writing.

Tribute to Robert E. Howard

73 years ago - this month - a great author, Robert Ervin Howard, died by his own hand.

He wrote many works in many genres, but is most remembered for his Conan the Barbarian and Kull the Conqueror stories. Howard is considered the father of the 'Sword & Sorcery' genre, just like J.R.R. Tolkien is considered the father of the 'High Fantasy' genre. Interestingly, both were huge history buffs.

Howard, however, separated himself from many of the other great writers by being an avid amateur boxer and was an autodidact with a photographic memory. Like most other great writers, however, he suffered from depression.

Howard's depression was both chronic and severe, which added a lot of depth to his often gritty, gruesome and ultimately futile stories of manly struggle. After having done this basic research into Howard's life, I watched Conan the Barbarian again. It's one of my favorite films for its philosophy, grittiness, dark humor, noble characters (both heroic and villainous), and wonderful drama.

Understanding Howard's severe depression shed new light on the drama and philosophies of the film. Suddenly, there was more depth to an already deep Conan, and I get the distinct impression that Conan and Howard were - in many ways - the same person. Iron-willed, physically fit, intelligent, passionate, unafraid of death, and understanding of the futility and fleetingness of all mortal endeavors.

As the Wizard says in the film:

He did not care any more... life and death... the same. Only that the crowd would be there to greet him with howls of lust and fury. He began to realize his sense of worth... he mattered. In time, his victories could not easily be counted...

Howard's sense of worth came from the success of his writing; and in only 30 years he wrote prolifically and even fathered a new genre. His literary works continue to make ripples in the proverbial pond and, if you ask me, the crowds still meet him with howls of lust and fury.

This month, I celebrate a truly inspiring author.