Showing posts with label geeks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label geeks. Show all posts

Friday, October 25, 2019

Some Thoughts on a Half-Century

Taken one week before my fiftieth birthday. Not much
has changed since then. 

Not to put too fine a point on it, but this is not the year I imagined having.

I mean, who starts their year, literally the first day of the year, in recovery from surgery? And who gets dangerously sick because the recovery time is freakishly, abnormally long, and winds up spending nearly a week in the hospital? Who does that?

Well, I do. At least, when I’m not looking after Cathy and her second round of chemotherapy, which is an even more treacherous and unpredictable ride than the first round, which we only barely began to recover from when it was revealed to us that nope, she needs to go back on again.

Nuts. Nuts to all of it. Including (but not limited to) my much-decreased but still tumescent scrotum. Turning fifty has royally suuuuuuucked. Not for the usual reasons, though. But it’s been a shit-show, pretty much, all year.

Let me ‘splain. No, there is no time; I sum up.

Thursday, October 15, 2015

My Top 5 Favorite When Animals Attack Movies

Sometimes, the reasons for why movies scare us are not so complicated and tied up with our unconscious. Sometimes, it’s right out in the open, a “Duh!” moment for everyone to pick up on. One of our most deeply held convictions is the idea that we’re at the top of the food chain in every respect. Granted, there’s not much we can say about shark attacks, and other run-ins with wild animals, because usually, it’s our fault, right? 

What’s worse is when trusted domesticated animals turn on us. That’s a betrayal that cuts at the heart, as well as the throat. But let’s face it; when animals attack, it’s always a reminder that we’re not the kings of the world. We’re not in control of things, and you know, we never were. In fact, under the right circumstances, we’re nothing more than food...

This is where you cue the music for one of the many Bert I. Gordon giant insect films from the 1950s, or worse, one of the many “they used to be furry and cuddly, but now they are giant and horrible” movies from the 1970s. To call them formulaic B-movies is overstating the obvious. And while it’s tempting to load this category up with Giant Mutant Animals or Giant Mutant Insects, we’re going to shuffle those off to separate categories and focus on normal-sized animals that lose it for one reason or another, domestic or otherwise. It’s a much harder category to fill out, but the movies are better.

Friday, November 28, 2014

Don't Tell ME What to Think About the New Star Wars Trailer...

J.J. Abrams dropped a 90 second bombshell on everyone today when he released a teaser trailer for Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens in select theaters and also online, where the world suddenly ground to a screeching halt. Without even checking, I am confident that the Internet responded as it always does: DeviantArt users are even now painting Milennium Falcons with My Little Pony art stenciled on the side and slapping them on T-shirts; 4Chan users have drawn penises on the droid; Buzzfeed is currently compiling a list of 27 reasons why the Ewoks are still better than Wookies (and over one-third of the reasons will involve the word 'cute'); Reddit users have made gifs out of the images and leavened them into the other pop culture memes making the rounds this week, which means Dr. Who is flying the Falcon, now, as is Bill Cosby; and of course, the Geek-Universe-Blog Sites all have dutifully posted links to the trailer, along with some commentary.

They look like the cool aunt and uncle
now, don't they? I dig the beard.
I haven't read any of the other commentary, and I don't have to. I'm 45 years old. I was 7 when I saw Star Wars for the first time in the theater. I'm a card-carrying member of Generation X, you dig? I make the commentary about Star Wars movies. Not the twenty something who grew up watching Episode I. Not the thirty-something whose first Star Wars movie was Return of the Jedi. This franchise belongs to me as much as it belongs to George Lucas. I made him what he was. I propped him up, swallowed his Kool-Aid, and made him a billionaire. And I promise you this: me and my people have spent more time thinking about Star Wars than any of the blog sites currently operating, with the notable exception of The Nerdist and RevolutionSF, which are both run by fellow forty-something GenXers.

All of that was simply to tell you that I have a very different perspective on this. I've been a vocal and outspoken critic of the franchise over the years, especially with regards to the prequels. Despite all that, I took the news that Lucas sold his creation to Disney very hard. I knew it meant that we would get three more movies, because Disney doesn't leave any money on the table, ever. But I wondered and worried that what we got would be a watered down feel-good family friendly mess.

J.J. Abrams as director restored some of my confidence, as well as the recruitment of the old stars, now in the role of sending the youngsters out to do battle and have adventures. Smart. Very smart. And it's in keeping with what I thought the next trilogy should be.  And sure, we've gotten some teases along the way (no offense, but if you were worried that the Millennium Falcon wasn't going to make an appearance in the movie, you know nothing about Disney, merchandising, or modern movie promotion).

At first glance the teaser trailer appears to be just that; images, seemingly at random, with the only constant being a sense of movement. No pictures of the old-timers. Only these new guys. At the end, a familiar sight, but otherwise, what a bummer, right?

"Rogue Group? I've found them. Repeat. I've--oh, wait.
Wrong movie. Yeah, I need my line, please. Line?"
Not at all. What I found interesting was the number of shots in the trailer that seemed to evoke (and by that I mean, 'are lifted directly') from the original series. Whether it's the Speeder Bike chase sequence, or the Snowspeeder patrol looking for Luke and Han on Hoth, there's a real familiar feel to all of the shots. I suspect this is intentional and purposeful, to make us feel more comfortable.

Why do we need to feel comforted? Because for the first time since 1977, none of us have the faintest idea of how this will play out. This is something that didn't happen with the prequels. In fact, the problem with the prequels was that there was no way Lucas could make a Clone Wars saga that matched what the first generation Star Wars fans had cooked up in their imaginations over the course of 25 years. Unfair? Probably. But Lucas made exactly the movie he wanted to make, with zero apologies and quite a bit of derision. This pushed me and others like me away. And speaking of Lucas...

This droid literally encapsulates the fusion of the first
trilogy (Astromech head) and the second trilogy (rolling
droid bottom). Designed to appeal to everyone.
This is his creation (some would say "collection of other people's intellectual properties he cunningly appropriated") after all. And he shepherded six films through. This being the first Star Wars that won't have his name and fingerprints all over it, there's a real need to soothe some savage beasts right now. How better to do that than to show a collection of scenes that look like they are straight out of the George Lucas playbook?

It's a smart trailer, and make no mistake about it. Finished shots, the obligatory lightsaber gag, a flash of something familiar (but not necessarily integral to the story) and pictures of the newcomers. No hint of story, aside from some things we can guess. This is more than just a teaser. This is the teaser that brings two generations of Star Wars fans together for the first time since Episode I opened. We, together, will get to experience Episode VII with no pre-conceived notions, no expectations, and no baggage. Just pure fun and excitement.  This is as it should be.

Hi. My name is Mark. And I'm a Star Wars Fan.



Friday, August 29, 2014

A Beginner's Guide for Reading Mark Finn *UPDATED*

The Author, trying to out-spooky Alan Moore.
You may have noticed this year that I've had a few books re-issued, published, and reprinted. So far, there's five new books out there and three more on the way. You may be thinking to yourself, "But Mark, you've written so many books, I can't keep up! I might as well just go outside and play with my dog."

Don't pick up that leash yet, Hot Stuff. Sure, modern living forces you into doing these you don't want to do, like Jury Duty, and math. I get it. So, for those of you who want to support your old buddy/school chum/lover/personal trainer Mark Finn, but you don't have time to read brief descriptions to gauge your interest levels, here's a quick and easy guide to help you select the book that's right for you. Just click on the links below and you will be whisked to Amazon.com where you can make a fast, painless transaction. And if you still can't decide, you can always buy two books. I promise, I won't tell.


"I don't like all that weird sci-fi and fantasy stuff you like. Except for True Blood. And Game of Thrones. Oh! And Twilight. And of course, the Harry Potter books. And American Horror Story. But other than that, I'm not really into that crazy stuff."

Newsflash: Yes, you are. And you'll love Year of the Hare. Sam Bowen is one of my most popular characters and he's a normal guy who learned magic to try and reverse a family curse that's been placed upon him. This is the first of two books that will collect all of his stories together from the Clockwork Storybook shared world of San Cibola. Click here for a preview!


"I like fantasy and sci-fi, but I'm not real familiar with it. It's all very big and new to me. Also, I like romance and love stories."

If this is you, then you want to pick up Empty Hearts, my collection of short stories that all deal with love, loss, and desire in a modern-day city where magic is an everyday occurrence. These stories take place in San Cibola, as well, and are a kinder, gentler introduction to that world. Well, mostly... Expect some ghosts and some monsters mixed in with the romance and intrigue. Click here for a sample!



"I love modern fantasy, and I also think Quentin Tarantino is a hoot! This means I have a short attention span. And if you've got something with Elvis in it, well, that would be one Hell of a Hat Trick for me!"

Say no more, Bwana! Road Trip is just what you need. Brash, violent, over the top, and best of all, it's chock-full of profanity and adult situations, just like an R-rated movie! Elvis and Cupid are on a Road Trip to South Padre Island to find Cupid's mother, Venus, who is hiding out amongst the mortals. Really, that's all you need to know. Anything else will spoil the story. Perhaps best of all: It's short! Click here for a sample!



"I'm really into this geek culture. I love it. I have strong opinions about all sorts of things that are, in fact, completely outside of my control, like every casting decision made in Hollywood. Got anything for me, Smarty Pants?"

You betcha! The Transformation of Lawrence Croft is tailor-made for you. Follow four super geeks as they make their way to MagicCon, a three-day comic and sci-fi convention in San Cibola. What could possibly go wrong, right? Plenty, is what. It's a romp through geek culture at the intersection of magic and make-believe. And it's also the first part of a trilogy of stories starring the four Con-Dorks.And if you like the first one, the second book, The Chance of a Lifetime, is also available. Click here for an excerpt!


"Well, I don't know about any of that. But I am curious about this mysterious story you just sold to Vertigo. What's that all about? Can we get a hint?"

I can't really give you a hint, since the book hasn't been announced or solicited yet. However, if you want to read something that's 100% in the wheelhouse of what I wrote, let me show you The Adventures of Sailor Tom Sharkey. This is a collection of historical weird humorous boxing stories written about real-life Golden Age boxer Tom Sharkey. These stories are very much in the tradition of Robert E. Howard's Sailor Steve Costigan stories, so if you like those, you'll probably like these, as well. Click here for a sneak peek!


"Robert E. Howard? Now you're talking. Aren't you supposed to be some kind of Robert E. Howard expert or something like that?"

Yeah, something like that. Here's the biography of Robert E. Howard that I wrote. It's called Blood & Thunder: the Life and Art of Robert E. Howard. If you like biographies of literary people mixed with Texas history, then you'll enjoy this book. It's probably what I'm best known for, and a number of people have read it who were not fans of Howard or his writings who said they enjoyed it a great deal. It moves fast, and has a lot of information packed into it. The book was nominated for several awards when it came out. This is the updated and expanded second edition. Click here for a sample!

"Yeah, so, none of that's really working for me. Anything else you want to show me, Mister Writer Guy? Or can I go play with my dog, now?"

Boy, you're a tough nut to crack. Why don't you just head on over to my Amazon Author Page and browse the other things I've got listed there? I've got stories and essays and introductions in several books, and there's even a couple of comics for you to purchase if you want to go that route. For example, in The Apes of Wrath, I wrote an essay about the guys who play gorillas in the movies. It's a fun romp through that specialized world. And the rest of the book is really good, too! Fun Fact: Many of my books are also available as ebooks.


Granted, this isn't everything. I've got some projects in development, some stories which are scheduled to appear in books coming out later, and some novels in various stages of completion. If you'd like to keep up with me and you're not bored with Facebook, I've got an Author's Page you can follow. Optionally, you can find me over at Good Reads, where I am trying to be more active.  I'll keep on writing, if you keep on reading.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

My Lengthy Absence and an ArmadilloCon Schedule

My apologies for the lack of regular updating. I've been grinding away at my stated goal of 500,000 words in one year, and I'm also in the middle of a work-related project that is taking all of my free time, most of my concentration, and the majority of my will and effort. Most days, it's all I can do to scoot around on Facebook for ten minutes.

I've got some larger thoughts I'd like to articulate, and I'll put them here just as soon as I can get out from under one or more of the rocks overhead.  Oh, and of course, I'm still publishing my back list via Monkeyhaus Books. If you bought one, I thank you. If you liked it, please tell someone, or throw up a quote on Amazon.com about it. The reviews really do help with getting eyeballs on the books. So far, I've got the following available:


Road Trip
Empty Hearts: Stories by Mark Finn

And Coming Soon:

Year of the Hare: The Sam Bowen Chronicles Volume 1

Chance of a Lifetime: The Con-Dorks Saga Volume 2
 (First time in paperback!
Thanks for your patience and also for your support! Now, here's my ArmadilloCon Schedule. As you can see, I'm going to be on a lot of faboo panels. Also note: I will have an HOUR for my reading this year. This is huge, and I fully intend to kick out the jams, as the kids like to say. It'll be a real Tour-de-Finn of new stuff, upcoming projects, and maybe, just maybe, I'll drop a chapter or two from Replacement Gorilla.

Friday
Autographing
4:00 PM-5:00 PM Dealers' Room
Chiang, Denton, Finn

Hollywood vs. Everyone Else
5:00 PM-6:00 PM Room F
Finn*, Crider, Hardy, Sullivan
Comparing American film noir with other countries' productions.

True Detective
6:00 PM-7:00 PM Room D
de Orive*, Cupp, Finn, Johnson
WTF did the ending mean?

40 Years of D&D
9:00 PM-10:00 PM Room F
Benjamin*, Finn, Maresca, Marmell, Sarath, Wright
How did D&D inspire authors?

Saturday
Build the Perfect Thief
11:00 AM-Noon Room E
Finn*, de Orive, Foster, Sheridan Rose, Sullivan, Wright
Thieves can make delightful characters, but what does it take to create a great thief?

Gorilla Playing Saxophone with Balloons
Noon-1:00 PM Room D
Finn*, Crider, Klaw, Johnson
Some of the strangest, craziest, weirdest stories about apes ever written.

Fannish Feud
4:00 PM-5:00 PM Conference Center
Finn*, Babcock, Eudaly, Chiang, Close, Law, McDonald, Orth, Walsh, Weisman, Wilson
The classic game show reworked for ArmadilloCon. Fans vs. Pros—which family is smarter?

Charity Auction
Sat 6:00 PM-7:00 PM Conference Center
Finn*
Spend money to support GirlStart and promote math and science for girls and teens.

Sunday
Reading
11:00 AM-Noon Southpark A
Finn

Writing Pulp Paced Stories
2:00 PM-3:00 PM Room F
Reisman*, Finn, Hardy, Johnson, Nevins
Writing fiction that has heft, depth and aspirations of greatness with the energy and pace of the adventure.






Saturday, May 31, 2014

Desperately Seeking Someone to Punch #YesAllWomen



I held off for a week from commenting on the Santa Barbara shooting, and with good reason: I was in no place to make any grand, sweeping pronouncements about anything. I’m glad I did, and I’m also humbled and angry, as a result.  It goes without saying that the shooting was senseless and horrific, and absolutely could have been averted, if not avoided. While I applaud that the response time for the ancillary concerned parties has advanced from “We had no idea he was capable of this” to “We knew he was troubled, but we never thought he was violent,” to finally “We were on our way over to stop him when this happened,” it’s still not much comfort. I think the Onion’s recent stance on the issue, while bitingly satiric, is still very relevant. I’ll just leave that right there and move on.

Instead, I want to talk about the fallout from the tragedy. The #YesAllWomen hashtag has been a kind of wake-up call for the rest of the Internet, and while it’s good to finally have a discussion about this, it’s been like bricks on my head for five days as I read about all of my friends who had these horrible experiences, and I never knew about it.

I haven’t seen hardly any of the detractor’s responses, other than noting from other people that there seems to be a line in the sand being drawn in the big Internet Sandbox, and again, I have to ask, who would even want to be on the other side of the line? Mostly, I’ve just been reading, trying to make some sense of it all. Here’s some of what I have been looking at, and I’ll tell you what conclusions I’ve come to afterward.


Chris Roberson’s confessional polemic, while not quite as broad shouldered as John Scalzi’s, was very refreshing to read for its honesty. I don’t disagree with either of these guys; on the contrary, I admit my culpability in the entrenched hegemony, as well. This is something I’ve been looking at for the past couple of years, ever since the controversy over Cosplay participants and “fake fans” reared its head in the Geek Nation. I’ve been very mindful of it and spoken out against “nerd-misogyny” before. But this was...too much.

One of the 1980's best worst people. Look at this guy. Now
go look at the shooter, with his smirking face and his
squinty eyes and his clothes and his hair and if you can't
see the resemblance, I'll be very surprised. Of course,
the shooter would probably admire this Douche-Nozzle
for the way he handles his girlfriend, but that's not the point.
I mean, there was something about this shooter, aside from his disturbing resemblance to Nick from the 1985 cult classic movie Tuff Turf (a character who was also a mentally unstable misogynist, by the way), that felt very “been there, done that,” and by that I mean, I don’t think there’s an eleven to thirteen year old male in America who hasn’t gone through a phase that looks something like, “One day, I’ll be rich/powerful/famous/a porn star/have super powers, and then they’ll all be sorry they laughed at me!” Depending on your peer group and how quickly you discovered Dungeons and Dragons and/or masturbation, this phase can last anywhere from ten minutes to six months. 

And then we grow out of it. Most of us, anyway.

Those few guys that don’t tend to skitter backwards into the darkness wearing their Members Only jackets and then we don’t see them too much after that. I’m not saying they aren’t there (obviously), but they become sort of "out of sight, out of mind" for the rest of us. I think it’s scary, and sad, for grown-up people to have those kinds of resentments and anger and rage. That is the extent of my sympathy with any man who feels mistreated at the hands of others. We all caught a snowball in the face. All of us. Deal with it and move on.

What’s even scarier and sadder to me is this idea of “a Pick-Up Artist” Community forum, wherein all of these guys who want to learn how to “get with” women go to lick their wounds and build themselves back up again, followed immediately by another Community Forum wherein the guys who tried this approach failed, and now they hate the Pick-Up Artists, too! Talk about victim-thinking... Amanda Hess wrote a sobering article about their response to the tragedy  and then she followed it up with why it’s so hard for men to see misogyny. Again, I have no argument for this. But as we all started to try and find a reason for how this became a sub-culture in modern America, there were a couple of false steps. A film critic went so far as to suggest that the comedies of Judd Apatow were to blame for the mass murder, prompting a rebuke from both Apatow and frequent collaborator Seth Rogan.

She’s wrong, of course, but I can see that she was picking at the edge of something. Then I read Your Princess is in Another Castle: Misogyny,Entitlement, and Nerds, by Arthur Chu and the light bulb went on. He’s dancing around the idea, as well, but he’s a lot closer to the hows and the whys.

Here’s what I think: There is a generation of people for whom it is difficult to discern reality from fantasy. I first noticed it years ago, in the mid-90s, when I was watching a show on Cartoon Network and a Barbie commercial came on that showed the doll water-skiing using the magic of Stop-motion animation (probably actually CGI, but let’s not quibble; you know what I mean). Flashed across the screen in the midst of this crass consumerism was the disclaimer, “DOLL DOES NOT ACTUALLY MOVE.” Wow. I thought we’d gone round the bend, but we were just getting started.

This? It was a Male Idyll. A fantasy.
A wishful indulgence. And it was
fake, and we all knew it. It was
never real, and it never will be.
We all grew up surrounded by stories. Myths. Legends. George Washington chopped down the cherry tree and said, “I cannot tell a lie.” Legend. Any American who works hard can pull themselves up by their boot straps and become millionaires. Myth. “They lived happily ever after.” Stories. We are inundated by fantasy at an early age, whether it’s that “all girls are princesses and deserve to marry a prince,” or “Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone.” You get it as soon as they start reading stories to you. You get it as soon as they plop you down in front of the television. You get told things, over and over again, repeating endlessly over and over again. And it sticks, or at least, it stays until another story takes its place. And stories that get told over and over stop becoming stories and start to become beliefs. Truths. They become how you see the world, instead of a way to look at the world differently.  And that’s what I think is happening here.

Let’s take a benign example. We were all told that Santa Claus is real; we all got that story. And we believed it, earnestly, diligently, and without question, until we were, what? Six? Seven? Eight? Do you remember how you found out? For most of us, it was the other kids. There was always some kid who figured it out, or whose parents didn’t practice Christmas, and they spilled the beans about Santa. Despite your mother and father’s efforts, when you saw that enough people didn’t believe it, either, you had to come to the conclusion that yeah, Santa wasn’t real.

So, why is there a generation that seems to have trouble discerning fact from fantasy? How is it that there’s more people who believe in conspiracy theories than ever? How is it that even with hundreds of thousands of women sharing their stories, there’s people who fervently believe it’s some sort of “feminazi plot?”

I think we can lay the blame right at the Internet’s feet. See, when you were eight years old, your peers taught you that Santa wasn’t real. When you were a teenager, you learned from the people around you that life wasn’t fair, and that we all had the same kinds of problems (Okay, you might have learned that from The Breakfast Club, but still). We used to all watch the same news programs and have something to discuss around the water cooler the next day. Sixty Minutes used to be a going concern. So was 20/20.

We don’t have that, now. Now we have the Internet. And while it’s true that it brought people together and formed new friendships and relationships and has been a major impact on art, commerce, and society, it’s true that it also united every lone freakshow, socially retarded troglodyte, sociopathic misogynist, and backwards-thinking assbug in the country. See the above “Pick Up artist forums” for examples of this. Now, you’re not the only guy in high school with no sex life. You can get online and connect with every other trenchoated loaner in America, where the stories they tell themselves are very different from the stories in the real world. Or even, the real world itself.

Now, anyone with a grievance can simply unplug from society, the real world, and their personal environment and go into whatever nurturing cybercave they choose to visit, where everyone agrees with what they say, because they all think and feel the exact same way. The internet has become the mysterious cave in the story of our lives. Sometimes, there’s treasure, or magic, or knowledge in the cave. But most of the time, there’s also monsters in the cave.

I know a great many of you around my age and older had a childhood had an adolescence similar to mine. I was told that the music I listened to would turn me into a devil-worshipper. That the cartoons I watched would make me a sociopath. That the role-playing games I played would turn me into a paranoid schizophrenic. None of that actually happened. We all had parents who either grounded us in reality, or anchored us in place. We had peers with similar experiences. We were all still somewhat connected to one another, even if it was only through the umbilical cord of shared popular culture. After all, weren’t you a little leery of the kids who didn’t like Star Wars? I sure was.

All of that’s changed. I don’t want to whole-cloth write-off the Special Snowflakes of the world for their helicopter parents and their overly-developed sense of entitlement, but we’re not doing Generation Y any favors, not at all. The Santa Barbara Shooter felt he was owed beautiful women, that he was entitled to them. Says who? What on Earth gave him that idea? Well, a lot of things, apparently. Look, I think any crazy person can get a crazy idea from anyplace, and there’s no telling what they will latch onto—movies, video games, a Pick-Up Artist website’s bullshit, you name it—but I’m just wondering if that idea would have stuck in his head so firmly if there was a group of real people around this little monster who shouted him down every time he tried to bring up the “bitches be tripping” rhetoric? Or parents who took him aside and said, “Yeah, son, you’re being a douche right now.” Something, anything, other than The Internet.

Granted, it sounds like I’m picking on Generation Y, but to be sure, there are members of Generation X that have fallen into this pit trap, as well. Again, I don’t see them very often, because they aren’t engaging with regular people in the real world.  And that’s the problem, isn’t it?  I’ll wager there are very few of us who have studied the actual psychological effects of long-term online communication, and how it’s different from actual live person social interaction. I sure don’t know very much about it. I don’t know anything. But I do know this: talking to people online, even on FaceBook, is very different from talking to someone on the phone, or sitting across from me. Maybe, just maybe, when someone is a borderline narcissistic sociopath, or has tendencies along those kinds of lines where it seems easier to pick up a gun to solve your problems, maybe that person would get more positive results from talking to humans in the real world instead of “ImBobaFettBitches1974” on some message board that’s connected to the thing this person obsesses endlessly about.

I told you all of that, to tell you this: I want to start trying to do something about it. The sexism, I mean. The misogyny. I want to start making a change. I don’t want my friends to be scared anymore. I don’t want to hear about another woman’s stalking incident. Only, instead of going into my little cyber-cave, I want to stand out, in the middle of society, and say, “Okay, let’s do this! Who among you is a shithead? Come forth, and let me smack you!”

Yeah, that approach probably won’t work. I know that. Ever since the cosplay controversy, I’ve kept my eyes open at the various shows and conventions I attended. I paid more attention. I checked in with people more frequently. And you know what I discovered? Nothing. Nada. Bupkiss. Mind you, I was ready to step in, to intervene, to sweep the leg, even, if necessary. But I saw nothing, heard nothing, and experienced nothing that was actionable. I’m not saying nothing happened at all, but I am saying, I was looking for it, and personally saw nothing. Maybe if I had my telepathy helmet on, I could have scanned the whole convention and found the two or three skeeves and pointed an accusing finger at them and scared them off. But I have limits.

I’ll keep looking. And I’ll keep trying. But I want to know: how do we as men start to apply peer pressure to people who need it when they are keeping their mouth shut around us, hanging back, and in general slinking around because they know we’ll call them on it? And worse, how do you keep that lesson from transmogrifying into “the popular kids beat me up and stuffed me in a locker today because I tried to talk to one of their girlfriends” in their brain-damaged heads? Because at night, online, that’s exactly what it’ll turn into.

I don’t know what the answer is. I don’t know where we start. I only have one idea to put forth. It’s probably not going to be well-liked, but that’s that, really. Maybe the Internet shouldn’t be wide open. Maybe anonymity online is a bad thing. Maybe if you want to comment on blogs, message boards, or send private messages, you have to provide your real information, instead of goofy screen names. Maybe I’m looking at this the wrong way, and if so, please tell me. I’m willing to be educated.  I’m just thinking in terms of how to curb some of the bad behavior. Anonymity tends to bring out the worst of us, instead of the best of us. Now there's studies that show trolling online is psychologically in the same head space as Narcissistic tendencies and sociopathic behavior. And also, the people who troll more often than others are (surprise surprise) sociopaths. Why give them the platform to disrupt? 

I don’t think registering your real name, I.P. address, or other measures will change the minds of ingrained misogynists, but if more women feel comfortable taking to the Internet, and there’s a mechanic in place that allows anyone who gets threatening messages to shut the other person down with extreme prejudice (and maybe even fines or penalties), then more voices can be inclusively heard (and agreed with) and that is in and of itself a kind of peer pressure.

My stance hasn’t changed. If I see something happening, I’m going to butt in. If you come up to me at a show or anywhere else for that matter and tell me someone was being a creep, I will help you. But these whiny, abusive, self-absorbed creepshow guys are scattering like cockroaches when the kitchen light comes on, and until we can all be in the same room together, it will be difficult for the rest of us to police our own. I'm open to suggestions.

Saturday, April 26, 2014

A Quick Update on the Publishing Side

Sorry this has been so quiet lately, but I have been forced to choose between finishing Replacement Gorilla and writing pithy, hilarious observations about racist squatters in other states and threatening the entrenched misogynists and sociopaths in the Geek Nation to within an inch of their lives if they don't shut up and bury their heads in the sand. Guess which wiser course of action won out?

Not that it hasn't been really tempting. It's like, life is throwing me these soft, slow, underhand pitches right over the middle of the plate, and I just want to belt them out of the park, but I've got stuff to do.

So, you may remember I had a plan to get all of my backlist out this year as publishing projects. Here's the updated link to my Amazon Author's Page, if you want to go swing by and check it out.

The most recent thing to get the CreateSpace treatment is Road Trip. I know, this has come out before, but I am moving it off of Lulu and onto CreateSpace, and then later, Kindle. This will be a special book, in that I'm going to give it away on Kindle. That's right, give it away. It's going to be my loss leader. I think it's a strong book, and a pretty good idea of what I write, and how. So, it's currently available as a paperback, and soon it'll get ebooked. Look for it, if you will.

Oh, hell, who am I kidding? On the day it's available for free, I'll tweet it and post it to the heavens. Please share, won't you?


This book is the first collection of stories from the San Cibola universe, and it's not the last, by half. I've gotten two reviews for Empty Hearts, for which I am very grateful. If you post a review and let me know about it, I'll send you a bonus story, "That Still Don't Make it Wight," as a thank you. How cool is that? It's currently live on Kindle, but I'm having the files redone because I didn't realize the Kindle format was so different. So, that's happening and should be updated by the first of May. I like the collection; I think there are some strong stories in the book.

Again, I'll let you know when the Kindle file is updated and repaired. I've got a hell of a learning curve on all of this.

Coming soon, in the next few weeks, look for two new books: A collection of the Sailor Tom Sharkey stories, published by Fight Card Books, and the first novel in the Con-Dorks Saga, the Transformation of Lawrence Croft. I'm actually going to put out all three Con-Dorks books in the trilogy (I can't believe I just typed that word--trilogy...it sounds so...author-ish.) as well as BOTH of the Sam Bowen books. Those of you who are TickWits will doubtless rejoice, leaving the rest of you to say, "So what?" Hopefully, you'll check it all out.


Sunday, March 2, 2014

My Writing Life: February’s Epic Fail


Last month I mentioned my goal of a 500,000 word output in a single year. I think a report card like this every month will keep me honest and accountable. February was a short month, and I was starting a new project. How did I do? Let’s go to the stats:

Projects completed: 0

Projects I was trying to complete: 1

Words typed: 24,963

Target number: 38,356

Shortfall: 13,393

So, basically, February sucked. I’m not making excuses, or anything like that, because I did write something every day. It may have been just a paragraph, but I kept writing every day, despite a couple of catastrophic setbacks in my personal life that all but took me out of the game for about ten days. I’m better now, but the damage is done.

LegendaryGorilla Man Charles Gemora.
I’ve modified my March schedule to allow me time to finish off this project I started in February. It’s called Replacement Gorilla, and it’s a mystery novel I’ve been carrying around in me for ten or more years, now. It’s been made worse by two previous attempts to start it, both ending in failures. The first time out, I had the tone all wrong, and the second time around, I had the voice all wrong.

The good news is this: third time is a charm. I’ve got the tone and the voice just right, and I’m well past my last attempt. Plot is plotted, story is storied, and now all I really need to do is get it out of my head. It’s been tough at times, but my energy high and I’m ready to have this out in the world so people can see it.

I might, if anyone is interested, put some samples up for folks to read. Just a taste, really. A sliver. Throw me a comment or a PM if you want a sneak peek or two.

ConDFW: A Report of Sorts
Part of what got me back on track again was my now-annual pilgrimage to ConDFW. I like this convention, a lot. It’s a great way to shake off winter and gear up for the spring and summer shows. They do good programming and I know a lot of the Dallas SF scene, both fans and pros. But there was something about this year that was a little different, and very cool.

I’m getting a reputation for being a good moderator on panels. It’s not that hard to do, really; you need the confidence and command of the topic to be able to pose interesting questions, and the force of personality to dictate what shape the conversation will take. Acting ability helps, as well as public speaking. Oh, and you have to resist the urge to take over the panel and plug your own stuff, ad nauseum. Okay, come to think of it, maybe there’s more to panel discussions that a lot of people think.

Regardless, I’m good on panels. This year, I had some big crowds, and I also sold several copies of my new book, Empty Hearts, to people I did not know. This was very gratifying. It tells me I’m either: reaching an audience at these shows, or I’m finally putting some stuff out that people want to read. Or maybe both.

I do have a small sect of folks who attend all of my readings. If they are at the show, they are at my reading. Nice people, all. I give good readings. But this was the first time that my reading partner and fellow author, Patricia Burroughs, yielded some of her reading time to hear me read more stuff. She also bought a copy of Empty Hearts, prior to the reading. It was extremely flattering.

This ConDFW was about connections, more than any other. I ended up talking to fellow authors and establishing (and in a couple of cases, re-establishing) connections. To put it another way, I’m finally starting to feel like I belong there. It’s taken some time, and I’m not always the best about putting myself out there, but going to ConDFW and FenCon and making the effort to participate was one of the best decisions I ever made.

The 100th Post
I’d hoped for something more monumental than a state of the union address. Oh, well. What can you do? I’ll get back to posting more Writing About Wonderbook soon. I’m halfway through the book right now. The short answer is this: it's great. If you are on the fence about it, get off the fence and go get a copy.

Monday, January 27, 2014

Roll to Hit: D&D turns Forty!



 Dungeons & Dragons is celebrating its 40th year of existence. Wow.

To commemorate the occasion, I had hoped to do an influence chart similar to the one I created for Raidersof the Lost Ark, but there is no time. And besides, it’s less interesting than just posting the list from Appendix N in the back of the Dungeon Master’s Guide.

Wait, let me back up.

Okay, we’ll start at the beginning.

My step-father introduced me to Dungeons and Dragons when I was eleven or twelve years old. It was this boxed game, containing two books—an all-in-one rulebook, and the adventure book—The Keep on the Borderlands. The box didn’t even come with dice. I had to make chits. It was pretty crazy.

The first D&D product I owned.
We tried to play it, but kept getting lost in the rules. Nonetheless, I was fascinated and I read the play example over and over again. There was something here—I was sure of it—but I couldn’t quite crack the code.

Then I found out my step-brother was playing Advanced Dungeons and Dragons while away on Boy Scout trips. “Advanced Dungeons & Dragons? You mean, it’s more complicated than the single book I couldn’t quite wrap my head around?” And yet, peer pressure is a great motivator, and so, little by little, I started buying the now-legendary hardcover books. I started with the Player’s Handbook, and Joel helped me navigate rolling up a character. He ran me through my first game, and the light bulb went off, you could say.

While my step-brother branched out into the more esoteric books, like the Fiend Folio and the Dieties and Demigods Cyclopedia (and yes, he did get the first edition with the Cthulhu and Melnibone’ myths in it), I settled on the basics: the Dungeon Master’s Guide and the original Monster Manual. By this time, I knew I wanted to run the game, to be the Dungeon Master. I had dice, and a few modules, and I was all raring to go. Now, all I needed was some players...

Chalk it up to playing D&D in a small town. Joel and I knew everyone who played. It wasn’t a big pool to draw from. But that’s not the point. I found out a few things about myself: I was good at running a game; I had a knack for telling stories and making stuff up on the fly; and all of these seemingly useless talents were going to end up shaping my destiny.

I read, re-read, and basically committed to memory much of the original material in the Dungeon Master’s Guide. This included the now-legendary Appendix N: Inspirational and Educational Reading.

Why “legendary?” Because that appendix was probably single-handedly responsible for the current crop of fantasy and sword and sorcery fans, ages 30-50. Think I’m exaggerating? Wait until you see the list. It’s been reprinted a lot, all over the Interwebs, but here’s the meat of the list for you to check out:

Anderson, Poul: THREE HEARTS AND THREE LIONS; THE HIGH CRUSADE; THE BROKEN
 SWORD
Bellairs, John: THE FACE IN THE FROST
Brackett, Leigh
Brown, Frederic
Burroughs, Edgar Rice: "Pellucidar" series; Mars series; Venus series
Carter, Lin: "World's End" series
de Camp, L. Sprague: LEST DARKNESS FALL; THE FALLIBLE FIEND; et al
de Camp & Pratt: "Harold Shea" series; THE CARNELIAN CUBE
Derleth, August
Dunsany, Lord
Farmer, P. J.: "The World of the Tiers" series; et al
Fox, Gardner: "Kothar" series; "Kyrik" series; et al
Howard, R. E.: "Conan" series
Lanier, Sterling: HIERO'S JOURNEY
Leiber, Fritz: "Fafhrd & Gray Mouser" series; et al
Lovecraft, H. P.
Merritt, A.: CREEP, SHADOW, CREEP; MOON POOL; DWELLERS IN THE MIRAGE; et al
Moorcock, Michael: STORMBRINGER; STEALER OF SOULS; "Hawkmoon" series (esp. the
 first three books)
Norton, Andre
Offutt, Andrew J.: editor of SWORDS AGAINST DARKNESS III
Pratt, Fletcher: BLUE STAR; et al
Saberhagen, Fred: CHANGELING EARTH; et al
St. Clair, Margaret: THE SHADOW PEOPLE; SIGN OF THE LABRYS
Tolkien, J. R. R.: THE HOBBIT; "Ring trilogy"
Vance, Jack: THE EYES OF THE OVERWORLD; THE DYING EARTH; et al
Weinbaum, Stanley
Wellman, Manley Wade
Williamson, Jack
Zelazny, Roger: JACK OF SHADOWS; "Amber" series; et al

Basically, a Who’s Who in Classic Fantasy and Sword and Sorcery. Also sword and planet, horror, and science fiction, as well. Looking back over the list, this is ground zero for anyone wanting to get back to the roots—or check out where it all came from.

I know there’s some modern authors who love to say that they were not, in fact, influenced by these old, dead white guys (and sometimes women). They love to kick over the idols and be the punk rock rebels and say, “I never read any of that stuff, and so it didn’t factor into my work.”

Bullshit.

Dungeons and Dragons was a real game-changer, literally and figuratively. It gave the disenfranchised geeks of the world something to do, a reason to clump up on Friday nights, and yeah, it probably saved more than a few geeks, nerds and dweebs from social torture, loneliness, and much worse.  

When I moved from Abilene to Waco in the 8th grade (is there anything worse?) I was able to make friends—one of my best friends, in fact—through Dungeons & Dragons. That gave me something to do, an audience to perform for, and a reason to be creative and social and not completely disappear up my own tortured asshole. But I digress.

Dungeons & Dragons spawned a cartoon series, toys, games, and nearly propped up every B.Dalton’s and Waldonbooks in every mall across the country with the amount of original (and somewhat less so) lines of fiction paperbacks, all based on the imaginary worlds that we were all tromping through every Friday and Saturday night. It was like belonging to much bigger, cooler club that was still kinda secret. I mean, the cool kids knew what D&D was—they just didn’t get it. Or didn’t want to get it. Either way, it was ours and we embraced it. And my generation grew up to be the creators and the tastemakers and the people who are now producing popular culture.

So, to the new elite hipsterati and your denial of the Canon—through the transitive property of pop culture influences, if you played Dungeons & Dragons and claim that you never read Jack Vance, well, guess what? Your fighter character did it for you. Or your rogue that scaled the ruined tower on the outskirts of the borderland. That stuff is ALL in Dungeons & Dragons and the fingerprints show up everywhere. If you watched any sword and sorcery movie from the 1980s, you have the Canon to thank for that—specifically, if not obliquely, Robert E. Howard. If you read any of the spin-off novels, or any of the fantasy series that blanketed those bookshelves, it’s all because of the canon. And it all fed back into Dungeons & Dragons like the mythical serpent eating its own tail.

Appendix N became a checklist for me, and I started reading and exploring as fast as my allowance could keep up. That appendix made it okay to branch out, and even though many of those books were on my family’s bookshelf, I didn’t get interested in reading them until Dungeons & Dragons said they were going to help me run a better campaign. Funny how that works, huh?  

That was how I interacted with my interests back in the days of Commodore 64. I read, and read voraciously. Dragon Magazine was my lifeline. We were all scrambling to find new things to work into our games. By now, it was just accepted that I was the dungeon master. I ran games, all the time. And by now, I was running more than just Dungeons an Dragons.

Call of Cthulhu, 3rd edition boxed set.
I miss when RPGs came in boxes.
When Joel started reading H.P. Lovecraft, I did too, in order to keep up. But that turned into me buying the Call of Cthulhu game, which is still a favorite to this very day. And when I noticed the ads for a super hero game in Dragon magazine called Villains and Vigilantes, I simply HAD to have that. Super hero role-playing? Forget about it. I was hooked. Other role-playing games followed. Some stuck, and some didn’t, but we always returned to the old reliable D&D. It was our Go-To for killing a boring afternoon.

You may infer, correctly, from the box art above that the earliest of Dungeons & Dragons artwork bears little resemblance to the amazing artwork they now routinely employ. In fact, some of that early artwork was amateur at best. But there were some diamonds in the rough over in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. One of the most recognizable early artists from the 1980s was a very young Bill Willingham. His stuff leapt off of the page—it didn’t look like the scritchy noodlings of some of the other artists. You could spot his work a mile away. It had a decided comic book feel to it. Yeah, I know, it’s funny NOW, but you see, I started following his career though Role-Playing Games. He was involved in Villains and Vigilantes, too, along with game designer and artist Jeff Dee (another guy whose D&D artwork just leapt off of the page). I was fans of these guys before they were Bill Willingham and Jeff Dee.  

When I realized that the Destroyers in the
Elementals comic were the same ones
from this V&V module, I felt like I'd
stumbled into a much bigger universe.
So, when Elementals first came out in the mid-80s as part of the Indie explosion in comics, I had the first issues—BECAUSE it was Bill’s comic, see? I won’t say this lead directly to our meeting, and subsequent friendship, now in its second decade, but I know this: I wouldn’t have first known about him had it not been for Dungeons & Dragons. I’m also not supposed to bring up Bill’s early artwork, as a friend, because he’s improved so very much over the years. While I agree with that, and try not to embarrass him about it, I find that his early game art has a lot of nostalgic charm, and I am not the only one who thinks so.

Now that you know—I have to tell you this very cool story. I was invited to playtest the re-vamp of Villains & Vigilantes some years ago back when Jeff and co-creator Jack Herman (another Very Fine Fellow) were working on it. Bill decided he would run the game. So I played V&V with the three game designers and writers who meant so very much to me at a teen-ager, and it was one of the coolest Nerd-Things I’ve ever done.  When I told my old friend from high school (who played V&V with me obsessively) about that day, his head exploded.

Because of Dungons & Dragons (and the role-playing games that came after it), I met, and befriended, a LOT of people I otherwise wouldn’t have. Some of my oldest friendships, folks I’ve known for twenty or thirty years, were people I used to game with. I know for a fact that I wouldn’t have been able to overcome some latent shyness had it not been for gaming. If you were ever in a Call of Cthulhu, a Justice, Inc., a Villains and Vigilantes, a Champions, a GURPS, a Top Secret, a Gamma World, or a Dungeons & Dragons game with me (or any of the other one-offs and experiments tried over the years), well, I just want to say, thanks for playing.  

I stopped actively role-playing in the early 1990s. It came down to the point of either writing stories down and trying to get them published, or playing games every Saturday night and not ever publishing anything. I chose door number one, and I don’t regret it. But I still miss gaming.

I’ve played in some games over intervening years. Every time, I spend weeks talking myself out of starting up a game again. It’s like a siren that calls to me. No, make that a harpy. A 3 hit dice Harpy, armor class 5, that attacks for 1d8 damage—sorry, old habits die hard.

This Christmas, I made a present of Dungeons & Dragons to my niece, a very active and bookish 12 year old geek, and on Christmas Day, I ran a game for her and my brother and his wife. And you know what? I got hooked all over again. Sure, the game has changed, but the imagination, the suspense of rolling dice, the storytelling, the on-the-fly plans of brilliance, the comedic moments of improvised dialogue...that doesn’t change, not at all.

These days, most of the stigma of tabletop gaming is gone, thanks largely to the number of Generation X that is still playing, and now including their kids. It’s become a family activity. Something we never thought we’d all see, back during the 1980s, when it was thought that Dungeons & Dragons was devil-worship and a gateway to black magic. We laughed about it then, but it was pretty serious. But the Conservative Christians were right about one thing—the game was a gateway. It was a gateway to a multitude of fantastic worlds, authors, concepts, and friendships—the exact opposite of what they accused it of being. Forty years later, that gateway is still open—wide open—for the next generation. In my own very small way, as a consumer and a player, I am partially responsible for that, as are the rest of you who played and loved it and then passed it on to others.  That’s definitely magic, in my book. 

Here’s the full text for Appendix N for any of you who’d like to read Gary Gygax’s remarks. I can’t think of a better way to honor the anniversary than to give him the last word. Thanks, Gary, and Dave, and all of the rest of you who worked on this game over the years. Your contribution to the world has made it a better, more magical place.   


Friday, November 15, 2013

There's Nothing "Tricky" About Wonder Woman

I keep seeing the muckety-mucks in DC's upper echelons wringing their hands and trying very hard to use specific words when describing how difficult it would be to make a Wonder Woman movie. I cannot disagree with that assessment emphatically enough.

Would it be technically difficult? Not any moreso than making Superman, or Spider-Man, or any other heavy CGI-effects-driven tentpole movie.

Would it be a "tough sell" for a modern-day audience, most of whom don't read comics? I dunno, why don't you ask Marvel how difficult it was putting a second-tier character like Iron Man over.

In truth, it'd be no more difficult than making the Captain America movie. After all, it took Marvel 75 years to get that one right, but in the end, they did. They did it, like they did for so many of the other characters in the Marvel Universe Movie Franchise, by getting out of the way and letting someone who "gets" the character adapt the material to the movies. Let them pick and choose what to include, so as not to overwhelm "the straights" with forty years of, say, Asgardian infighting, for example.

"But Mark," you say, "DC DID that...remember Green Lantern?" Unfortunately, yes I do. And I have said this publicly and elsewhere that Johns made the rookie mistake of putting all of the eggs into one basket. He frankly didn't know, or didn't consider, that this would be a long-term project--or maybe they told him to do this--but that movie was crowded with everything that someone would need to launch a Green Lantern toy line, and not enough of anything else to make a movie.

But we're not talking about that. We're talking about Wonder Woman. The last of DC's "Big Three, after Superman and Batman." One of the most recognizable characters in DC's line-up. Perennial cosplay favorite. Visible in at least a couple of monthly books. Written by some of the best talent in the industry. Exactly what is the problem, then?

Oh, the different versions of the character.

There's probably a bondage component
to this that makes me uncomfortable.
Yeah, see, even before I saw the TV show, I owned a Wonder Woman comic. This comic, in fact. It's Ric Estrada artwork in it, and the story is pretty okay, as far as stuff from that time period goes. Nothing rang false in my six year old brain when I read it. I didn't know until much later that this was actually part of a kind of trope in the Wonder Woman comics wherein she is routinely shrunk down to miniscule size in an effort to diminish her power. Read into that as much as you'd like. You're probably correct.

But what really introduced me to Wonder Woman was this. Go ahead, give it a look. I'll wait: The Wonder Woman TV Show Intro.

God, but Lynda Carter was...still is...a knockout. Brunette, curvy, and very girl-next-door. This set my sexual preferences in stone at a very early age and they haven't really moved since. But enough of that. This was live-action super hero hi-jinks, played out in prime time, at the exact same time that the Batman TV show was in syndication in the afternoons. This was not a coincidence. The Wonder Woman TV shows were about one-third less campy than the Batman TV shows, which made them barely tolerable as opposed to unwatchable. But I was six, what did I know? Not much, I tell you. So I watched them.

What a great costume. Then and now.
The first season had Wonder Woman fighting the Nazis, which I really liked. Hey, I was reading Captain America, too, back then. But the following seasons brought Wonder Woman up into the modern world, where all of her adversaries used crystals for their super powers and wore pants suits. Not cool. Not cool at all. Honestly, the best thing about the show is the theme song. Even when they changed the lyrics for the second season, it was still groovy. And I do like the opening sequence, even though it's as corny as Nebraska.

I tried to re-watch these a few years ago, and they do not hold up. At all. They are the worst kind of terrible. But Good Golly, Lynda Carter in that suit...

I'm okay.

After the show went off the air, I frankly didn't think about Wonder Woman very much for about ten years. She was in the Justice League, and I would occasionally see a Golden Age story reprinted in a book, or read about her creator, William Moulton Marston, who also invented the modern polygraph machine. Interesting stuff. He was pretty progressive. Look him up. Your jaw will hit the floor. The Golden Age Wonder Woman stories are a mixed bag, by the way. In between smacking the Germans around and spouting off about personal liberty, Womder Woman was also very pre-occupied with trying to get Steve Trevor to marry her. Mixed signals, anyone? In the sixties, this trope moved to the forefront, and it wasn't until Wonder Woman joined the Woman's Liberation movement by having her powers stripped from her that the "I must marry Steve" subplot went away. Well, mostly.

Then in the late 1980s, DC relaunched Wonder Woman. They gave the book to George Perez and Len Wein, a veteran team responsible for some of their best comics. Perez went to town on the character and did what a number of creators were doing at the time--the old "returning to their roots" trick. Only in this case, it wasn't a trick. It stuck. Suddenly, Wonder Woman had a much richer and more nuanced back story. Now firmly ensconced within the Greco-Roman pantheon, she had a nemesis, in the form of Ares. It was a complicated relationship, one they explored in several great story arcs.

The wraparound cover to WW #1, drawn by living legend
George Perez with his usual eye for composition, drama
and exquisite detail. Still one of the best artists working.
It was a critical and sales success for DC, but like most creator-driven runs, Perez and Wein ran out of stuff to write and draw, and they turned the book over to other, capable people. Some of them got it. A few didn't. But Most of them tried their hardest, and interestingly, most of them did great work on the book whenever they went back to the mythology well for inspiration.

Since then, many other writers have taken a crack at Wonder Woman in other books, other forms, and other media. Some of the writers have just so happened to be women, for a novel change of pace. Darwin Cooke really highlighted one of the unspoken problems with the character in his critically-acclaimed series New Frontier, when the generals who needed her help defeating the Nazis give her their heartfelt thanks and politely but insistently tell her, "We'll take it from here." Ouch.

Paul Dini and Bruce Timm used her quite well in the Justice League cartoons for several seasons. Likewise, so did Mark Waid in Kingdom Come. There have been a number of excellent examples of how the character can be taken seriously, portrayed as both powerful and compassionate, and function as a cross between Captain America and Thor in the DC universe.

Difficult, they say. "Tricky." Yeah, right.

To me, it comes down to a few core things: Intention. Are you going to re-introduce the Wonder Woman you currently have on your plate to a new audience? Or are you going to try and overthink it, like you did with Superman?

Competency:  There's no reason in the world why you can't have the same kind of franchise Marvel is enjoying at the movies now. You just have to jettison the idea of continuity and write the movies with an eye towards being chapters in a larger work.

Character: Is the Wonder Woman we see on the screen a Wonder Woman we recognize? Does she act, behave, and perform like how we "see" Wonder Woman in our minds? It's okay if there's pieces and parts of certain eras all mashed together. The end result had better be part of the group-think Wonder Woman. This means, no pants.

You also have to respect the Canon, the source material. This is something that I think Warner Brothers is pathologically incapable of doing, and something that DC comics under their current leadership can't articulate in the first place. But let's press on. I wasn't kidding when I said Wonder Woman is a cross between Thor and Captain America. For the purposes of the movie, that's how we proceed.

Here's my pitch for a Wonder Woman movie that would satisfy the core audience, introduce her to newcomers who don't know anything about her aside from the costume. And it sets up sequels and things that percolate for later movies.

Wonder Woman: The Dogs of War
The movie opens with a quick re-telling of the history of the Amazons according to DC Comics, their subjugation, and their eventual home on Paradise Island. We establish they live very long lives. Then at the end of the flashback, we're on modern day Paradise Island. All seems well. Except for the Oracle. She's in her temple, back arched, eyes rolled back, mouth open, locked in a vision of horror.

We go into her vision and we see Ares, weakened, nearly drained of power. In his hand are the ends of four chains, leading to...what? He says, "Go, my minions. Sow the seeds of war that I might come to power again!" He lets go of the chains. We see them zip down the corridors, like they are attached to rockets.

Back on Paradise Island, the Oracle comes running out of her temple, screaming for the queen.

Overhead, arcs of fire shoot out in different directions, like comets. The amazons look up, confused. One of them turns and runs away. We follow her as she kicks open the door to the palace. "Mother! What was that?" It's Diana. Hippolyta and the Oracle and a few advisers are deep in angry discussion. The queen tries to shoo Diana away, but she defiantly remains. The oracle insists that Ares is bent on a re-awakening. No one else believes the oracle. The queen promises to meditate on it and dismisses them.

Later, she and Diana talk and they have their recurring fight about obeying the Queen, if not the Mother. Diana asks the queen what she will do. The queen says, "If Ares is coming back, then who will be next? We have to investigate." There is a montage sequence, including spinning newspaper headlines, showing the build-up to World War II. We see Hitler, Mussolini, Churchill, and Roosevelt and of course, armies on the move. All of this through the eyes of the oracle.

Another argument between the council. The queen is convinced, but they are not. Suddenly, the Oracle's face contorts, and suddenly, she looks a lot like Ares. He warns her to cease meddling in his affairs or he will make his castle upon the ruins of Paradise Island. The oracle's neck snaps, and she is dead. A trickle of blood from her nose drops onto the throne room floor. Blood has been spilled.

That's all the council needed. Okay, says the queen. We oppose Ares.

Now we get the whole thing with the Amazons choosing one champion to act as their representative in the world of man. Diana disguises herself, bests Artemis, and reveals herself to her mother. Another act of defiance. But the queen has to send her. They are making their farewells, when--

Cut to: Pilot in Cockpit, flying over the ocean.

It's Steve Trevor! American test pilot, making his maiden flight in the H-1, an experimental craft. After bantering with the control tower, he is told that Operation Houdini is a go. Steve flips a switch, and we can see on the wings a number of mirrors and plates lift up, flip over, and suddenly, the plane is invisible!  But it is a plane, and a prototype, and it's still leaving a trail from the transformation.

Diana looks up, sees the smoke, hears the trail, and shouts, "ARES!" The queen tries to stop her, but she vaults up into the air, smashes through the plane, and is very surprised to see Steve Trevor. The plane crashes, but she saves Steve. There's the brief discussion about a man setting foot on the island, but Diana is again defiant.

They salvage the plane, and Steve fixes it up as best as he can. All the while, he tells the Queen and Diana about what's going on in Man's World. He agrees to take Diana to his base, but he can't promise that they will listen to anything either one of them has to say. "If I tell them about this place, they'll lock me up forever. Even if you do show up like this, looking like that. Maybe especially if you show up looking like that."

The queen heeds his advice, and they craft a Battle Suit for Diana. Using the colors from the American flag, the Eagle as their symbol, and with the usual amount of weapons and accoutrements, she now LOOKS like Wonder Woman. Everything but the name.

They take off in the plane. Steve makes it invisible. The radio is scrap, so they can't call in, and he doesn't want to be shot down. Using the plane, they make their way back to the top secret allied base, where a number of clandestine espionage operations are being prepped and carried out, courtesy of the O.S.S. Once Trevor explains that he's in fact alive, and the plane is damaged but flyable, and oh yeah, here's an Amazon that wants to talk to Churchill, things go very quickly.

They Allied Command holds a meeting in Washington, D.C. They don't know what to do with her. She explains her mission is to help end the war, and root out its causes. No one believes her, of course. Trevor informs her that they are taking her back to Greece, which is where Trevor said he found her. She tells Trevor that she doesn't have to comply with their wishes. He says if she doesn't, then they really won't trust her.

The whole traveling circus piles into several cars and makes for the airport. That's when motorcycles swarm the caravan and machine guns open fire on the cars. It's an assassination attempt! She leaps out of the car through the roof and lands on Churchill's car, in the middle of the caravan. She pulls him out of the window as the motorcycles circle around. Bullets. Bracelets. Lots of punching and throwing and smashing. She single-handedly takes out the hit squad, and uses her lasso on the last goon running away. Under her questions, he tells her she can't save them all. And that's when his head assumes the shape of a black hound, and then his neck snaps. She's knocked back by the psychic force.

"Ares," she says. She gets up and walks over to Churchill. "Are you all right?"

"Whatever you need, you just let me know."

Okay, now she's in. Ares has tipped his hand. In her Prayer/Conference to her mother, she tells her what she say. The Queen says, "It's the dogs of war." Now we have the plot: four black hounds that do Ares' bidding, they are extensions of him, and they have the ability to possess mortals and, well, you can guess what's happened. Hitler: Black Hound. The Emperor? Black Hound. Mussolini? Black Hound. But where's the other one? Never mind that. He'll reveal himself. Take those three out and he'll show up.

Now we've got Wonder Woman in World War II, smashing Nazis, blocking bullets, bending tank barrels, and any other famous Golden Age covers we want to do. Plane catching. Bunker busting. You name it. Steve Trevor is the person who flys her in with the invisible plane, drops her over the zone like a bomb, and then lands and waits for her to show up with intel and equipment.

As a kind of ironic counter-point, the newsreel footage of Wonder Woman in action has that cheesy narrator voice-over..."The Allies have a new secret weapon...and she's a knock-out!" Steve walks out of the viewing room, disgusted. "Why are you selling that garbage?" he asks his spy master.

"Would you rather the truth?" the head of cover ops replies.

She captures Mussolini and Hitler and Trevor's spy group plants evidence that tells a different story. The black hounds of Ares burn up the military leaders and leave their bodies. Wonder Woman literally kills the Dogs of War with her Amazonian War Spear.

She's going after the Emperor next. What she doesn't know is that the command has also decided on a little insurance. They are going to drop the bomb anyway. Just to be sure.

Wonder Woman is there when it happens. She sees what man is capable of. She pulls the war dog out of the Emperor before it can kill him as a host, and she takes the dog back to Paradise Island. Trevor comes looking for her. She asks him, "Did you know about this?"

"No, I didn't know."

"Why would they do that?"

"I don't know. We've won the war. Peace has been declared. There was no point, except..."

They get it. The fourth dog of war. It's Truman. Wonder Woman again defies her mother and takes the captured dog of war with them. They fly to DC and confront Truman in the White House. Only it's not Truman. It's not the dog, either. It's Ares. He's weak, but he's back. Wonder Woman tells Ares to leave Truman and he can have the war dog back.

Ares replies by snapping his fingers. Secret Service men rush in, all with glowing red eyes. They literally cover Steve. Ares knows they can't hurt her, but Trever is mortal. She's about to tear them apart when Ares barks a command. "Leave off, or I'll stop his heart!" She backs off, seething. "Let the dog go." The hound leaps out of its magical enclosure and right into Steve. There's a short scuffle, of course. He's fighting it, but it's gaining control. "Now, my pet...kill the Amazon."

Steve looks into Wonder Woman's eyes. She nods. He nods. And he raises the gun and fires. The bullet ricochets off of her bracelet and hits one of his handlers. So does the second shot. She's controlling where the bullets go. He empties the clip. Truman takes a bullet, as does Steve--in his gun arm, dropping the useless weapon.

Wonder Woman is staring at the wounded president. If she lets Truman die, Ares has to leave the host. On the other hand, if she saves Truman, Ares is saved. She's torn. Finally, she asks for help. The Amazons whisk them back to Paradise Island, and make a deal that Ares will remain in Hades until the end of the century. He agrees, a little too quickly, and leaves.

They fix up Truman and re-install him in the White House. Steve wasn't in mortal danger, but they get the dog out of him and kill it, too.

They never find the fourth dog. Wonder Woman's mission has failed. The Queen tells Wonder Woman she was lucky that Ares was so weak, otherwise she'd have never been able to do what she did. Wonder Woman realizes she still has much to learn. She is disgusted with what she has seen of Man's world. Maybe they aren't ready to save, yet. Well, except for Steve. They have a romantic moment on the beach, and then say goodbye. "Will I ever see you again, Diana?"

"You might. If I am needed."

Cut to Steve Trevor getting a medal for distinguished service during the war. He's still got a cast on his arm. They are discussing Wonder Woman, where she is, what she's doing. Steve tells them "I don't know where she is, but I hope we can figure out a way to be better than we are now. I'd like to see her again."

And we pan away from them, to another military type, walking away. A general, but not a real historical figure. He gets into his car, tells the driver to take him home. We see him light a cigar using his finger. It's the fourth dog of war. Completely free to roam the world, building influence for Ares for another fifty years.

The end...for now.

There's your movie, Warner Brothers. It sets up a sequel, or you can go straight into The Justice League movie, depending on how you bounce it. The next Wonder Woman movie is in the modern day, and she's starting over, and it's a whole new set of challenges for her.  But if you put that first movie in World War II, you give a nod to the Canon. You make her competent, and you treat the character with respect. And you intentionally showcase the parts that are endearing and enduring and not stupid and campy.

I know, I know, we can't film it, it's got Nazis, you can't shoot Truman, blah blah blah, whatever. Intention. Competency. Character. Canon. Address those issues and you've got a movie.