In the week since I posted Part One of this train of thought, I had a couple of conversations that reinforce what I’m saying about the sci-fi community messing itself up. One conversation took place on Reddit itself and the other took place with one of the friends I can – because of my disability – have a normal chat with. “What did you think of Rogue One?” I asked.
“Oh,” he said. “I liked it … but there were a lot of people who were disappointed. They felt like all it did was focus on the one plot point and then …”
“Oh man,” I shook my head. “There it is again, the purity test.”
“What purity test?” Continue reading
I’m going to avoid adding onto the ‘Dear Sci-Fi: We Need to Talk’ discussion today. I don’t want to add to overall discord of the world, there are way too many scary things going on out there and we come to sci-fi to escape them.
That, in and of itself, may be *why* we argue so much about the state of science fiction. Sci-fi feels fixable, as opposed to the world outside, which looks more like a dystopian nightmare every day.
So although I’m working on something to say because I’m passionate about sci-fi being an open, inclusive world where ideas are free to flourish, I want to do something today to counteract the negative energy. I’m going to just sit here quietly, and be somebody that enjoys science fiction with you. It’s important to be comfortable sharing this space before we do anything else.
Ssh … it’s going to be okay.
Yes, yes and *YES.*
Had to blog about this: read something very encouraging this morning from one of my favorite directors, J.J. Abrams. Like me, he’s tired of sci-fi reboots:
You know, I do think that if you’re telling a story that is not moving anything forward, not introducing anything that’s relevant, that’s not creating a new mythology or an extension of it, then a complete remake of something feels like a mistake.
On behalf of writers and geeks everywhere, let me extend a salute to Mr. Abrams. His as a filmmaker and storyteller have already won my admiration and respect, but now he’s going further. He’s continuing to pivot and innovate, even as he celebrates the reboots he’s already been a part of:
You know, I feel incredibly lucky to have gotten involved in things that I loved when I was a kid. In fact, even Westworld, which we’re here for tonight, is one of them. But I don’t feel any desire to do that again. I feel like I’ve done enough of that that I’m more excited about working on things that are original ideas that perhaps one day someone else will have to reboot.
In one deft move J.J. Abrams is giving himself, and us, permission to reboot the reboots. Bravo. It’s like, enough already. Like mango chutney, reboots are perfect in small doses. The problem is that they’ve gotten out of hand. Even Conan O’Brien openly mocks them:
This comes back to what I was saying earlier – the world is ready for original sci-fi. Yes, we were born to make, not take. But making reboots always felt like we were making by taking and that isn’t fair to the audience. Hopefully this represents a new direction in science fiction that writers like me can be a part of.
As promised, a special comment about the direction of sci-fi and how it might avoid some of the community-killing habits experienced by other groups of people in 2016. No one argues that science fiction is a genre, a medium of art, that is built upon imagination. However, it has become apparent to me, and perhaps to you as well, that our genre has been overrun by bad habits that will ultimately lead to its own demise.
No community is too big to fail. I’m sure you can think of some recent examples where grass-roots organizations have suffered crises of identity as core beliefs were challenged and then obliterated. Science fiction is also a community, and while it has repelled bad actors in the past, there is no doubt about their intent. Some men, as Alfred reminded us in Dark Knight, just want to watch the world burn.
Each of us have the capacity to become the white blood cells of our ecosystem. We can work together to identify threats, neutralize them, and keep the body healthy. It’s hoped that this Open Letter – a document that I frequently find distasteful – will foster some conversation and perhaps some self-awareness within the sci-fi community. If I am wrong, then count me the first to say that I am happy to be wrong, for this is a community that I both love and want to be a part of for the rest of my life. Continue reading
So briefly, before I get into this topic, let me say this: If you think Rogue One was bad, then you are wrong.
I’m no Lucas apologist, but that movie was awesome. It had everything going for it that Episode One *should* have had. No references to THX 1138, no Wilhelm scream’s, no throwbacks to old lines, just focused on making it a well-told, autonomous story. They broke with the conventions of the other Star Wars stories to create a movie that took its place by the side of the original trilogy. Bravo.
If you need more validation on why Rogue One was amazing, you can check out this Reddit thread. Inevitably, some will find fault with different aspects of the movie but that’s to be expected. In fact, that’s why I’m writing this blog post – it’s time to draw a line in the sand between the people who love science fiction and the creeps who use science fiction as a purity ritual.
I won’t get into all of it now, but it’s something to think about. Sci-fi has this weird orthodoxy attached to it, where a sci-fi movie isn’t a SCI-FI MOVIE unless it conforms to some byzantine equation that only exists in the mind of the angriest geeks. It’s killing sci-fi, it’s why Hollywood yawns, smiles tolerantly at us and ignores us until it’s time for us to open our wallets.
I’m going to make you a promise right now: If I become a successful author, it’s because I’m a successful author. Nothing else. There are so many other things in life that are important, far beyond what they’re saying we should care about.
If nothing else good comes for 2016, maybe it’ll go down as the year when we finally learned to stop paying attention to what does not matter. Each of us has experienced a personal loss, whether it’s some famous person we cared about, or someone we knew personally. Maybe it made us pull back for a moment and ask ourselves: do we really need to hear what Susan ‘Cindy Brady’ Olsen thinks about politics? Do we really care what Barbara Walters thinks about ‘the legacy of The View?’ The last thing I want to become is another semi-famous person who thinks you’re entitled to my opinion.
The landscape of famous people has become so toxic that even Steve Martin can’t try to say something nice about Carrie Fisher without drawing a backlash. It’s a twisted world that defies even A-listers to navigate … what hope could I have?
Then there’s JK Rowling.
Now, I’m not a fan of the Harry Potter books, but I am refreshed to see one thing: JK Rowling keeps her opinions out of the press. Quick google searches show that she has some personal opinions, but no one is inviting her onto CNN or MSNBC to discuss the topic du jour. I can respect that. In fact, I’m reminded of Cary Grant’s famous line: “I’m opposed to actors taking sides in public and spouting spontaneously about love, religion or politics. We aren’t experts on these subjects.”
Gant and Rowling have the right idea: we’re in the business of bleeding onto the screen or page. Fame doesn’t mean that we know any more than anyone else. Navigating these waters still fills me with dread. I’m glad to see others share my opinion of focusing on what matters.
All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned by reading the Sprawl Series by William Gibson. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate school mountain, but there in Matrix, where knowledge hits you like a video game.
These are the things I learned:
- Share everything – unless it’s from the Wig. It usually brings a good price
- You don’t have to play fair if you have Hideo
- Don’t hit people unless it’s with a recoilless rifle and a box of incendiary shells
- Put things back where you found them – unless you’re the kind of jockey who tangles their gear
- If your name isn’t Lady 3Jane, clean up your own mess Continue reading
I know I’m the last person you want to hear from on this, but like you I’m affected deeply by the loss of this talented and classy lady. I posted this tribute on Imgur and am passing along to you:
She was a survivor, a mensch, a powerful actor as well as writer. She moved mountains, plumbed the depths of hell and lived to tell the tale. Rest in peace, Carrie. It won’t be the same universe without you.
Well that was cool! Called an industry friend the other day to catch up. He knows I love scifi but that going out in public is positively excruciating for someone with a crippling social anxiety. Therefore, he was kind enough to lend me a screener for Passengers. He wasn’t going to watch it, so he said I might as well tell him what I thought. “I don’t want to see this up on Youtube, dude,” was all he said. Screeners are difficult to send around so he’s doing me a huge favor by doing this. Classy guy.
Anyway – that’s my big news for the week. I’ll post my thoughts on Passengers on Tuesday so you know what you’re walking into.
Something very sad happened to me today. One of my professional colleagues surprised me by telling me of a decision. Because of my recent pivot to this new role as Jackson Allen the Author, he didn’t feel he and I could be friends anymore. I’m shocked and saddened, but of course I respect his decision.
Since then, I’ve been thinking about what happened. I decided that I wanted to blog some thoughts out and share this with you. Blogging gives me a platform for ideas that wouldn’t fit anywhere else. Maybe this is something you’ve already experienced and you have an answer for what I haven’t figured out yet.
As I said in the beginning, this is … like … the third act of my career. My real name isn’t Jackson, I’ve got some baggage and I’m just moving forward with my life now that the previously-planned ‘happily ever after’ became ‘not a hope in Hades.’ There’s some stigma attached to that decision and it sucks. As I travel that path, and circumstances change, all I can really hope to do is roll with the punches while remaining true to the goal.
I want to tell stories that people enjoy and hopefully get paid for it. It’s that simple, but circumstances dictate that I find my own way. Because I’m innovating, I have to be okay with being misunderstood. That’s the thing nobody tells you about the creative life: there are moments of genuine heartbreak. It’s bad enough that the public at large doesn’t understand what you’re doing. But when a fellow creative who is also traveling your path rejects you well, part of you dies. After that conversation, I had to take a few circuits around the block and try to clear my head. Continue reading