The Hidden Lessons of Moving Product

So …

I spent some time this year (local pandemic restrictions permitting) at a handful of live events (craft fairs, holiday markets, etc), where I had a chance to do a little book selling. I’d not done it very much before; I mean, getting out and trying to sell your products live, not from behind the screen of the internet, can be daunting. But I have to say this: taken collectively, it has been an awesome experience. Not only have I enjoyed it but I have learned a ton in the process.

Oh, there are the standard lessons they teach you about doing any type of live-selling, at anything from a yard sale to a curated art show. You know the lessons I’m talking about: having change to make when people pay cash, figuring out the best way to display your goods, and the usual rigamarole. But I did trip on a few things I’ve learned that maybe wouldn’t be in everyone’s first thoughts. So I thought I would share them here.

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#1) Keep a smile on your face.

I know that sounds terribly obvious but given how I see other people running their booths, I’m not sure it is. I saw a lot of grumpy vendors out there, and I saw how people reacted to them. In contrast, I was pleasant, welcoming, and open to conversation, even if it had nothing to do with my books. I had a standard routine and verbiage to talk about my stories, which I would vary a little with each shopper, to make it sound a little less rehearsed. I avoided those Valley-of-Death subjects like politics and religion and kept the banter upbeat.

Did this test my patience? Yes, a few times, like when I ended up in a five-minute conversation with someone who had no interest in books and just wanted to talk my ear off about their husband’s dog or something (I kind of tuned out part of it). I also had the mispleasure of someone snapping at me that they didn’t read anything with witchcraft in it, to which all I could do was smile and nod. But on the other hand, I attribute several of my sales to engaging a shopper, asking them about their morning, talking about the weather, if they had seen anything good at other booths at the show, the shirt I was wearing (which was chosen on purpose as a conversation starter), or anything else that crossed my mind. Whatever I had to do to draw them in. If they were wearing a veteran’s hat, I would thank them for their service and mention I was also in the service. If they had a tee shirt bearing the logo of a band, I would ask about that. I was also honest; when one woman asked if Rumble in Woodhollow would be suitable for her twelve-year old who liked fantasy, I said I didn’t think so, because it has some adult language and violence, and recommended some mid-grade books. Other shoppers took note of that and commented on me being upfront. Trust-building is a thing.

By the end of each day, was I tired of being chipper and was I ready to punch my smile off my own face? Yes but that’s hardly the point. I think the technique of being upbeat and cheery in sales making the buyer more receptive is a long-established one. That’s all this is. Keep smiling.

#2) You don’t have too many books.

I don’t mean titles but copies.

Going into one of the shopping fests in November, I had several copies of each book in the The Holly Sisters—maybe twenty books altogether. I thought for sure that given that this two-day bazaar was a holiday market in a small town of under ten thousand people that it would be enough.

It wasn’t. I sold out the first book of the trilogy and was reduced to one copy of the third. To be honest, I was stunned.

I think you have to maintain a sense of proportion about these things. You don’t want to have thousands of copies on hand (and have the money tied up in them) if you are not able to move any. But a couple dozen overall? Or even a hundred? I’m thinking that is the minimum you want, even at a small venue. You have no idea if you are going to get hot on a given day and get just the right blend of shoppers … and you cannot sell books you don’t have. Your rate of return per book of selling physical copies live is likely going to be better than anywhere else. If you’re getting books from Amazon (as most of us are, in some capacity), it is, as of this writing, taking fourteen to seventeen days from time of ordering to get author copies. Plan and stock accordingly.

#3) New tech is a thing.

I get it; having something like a Square for credit card processing has become a (moderately) standard staple of selling at these types of venues. It makes sense. But for the first time, at the above-mentioned bazaar, I had someone try to pay with Venmo, a cash-transmitting phone app that I really had no knowledge of.

It’s hard to stay on the cutting edge of technology and I admit, I lag behind in these things. But like when I said you can’t sell the books you don’t have, you also can’t sell the books if you can’t take payment. In the case above, the person was able to make an alternate form of payment but if they hadn’t? I would have been shit out of luck.

So now? I am looking into Venmo and/or CashApp and seeing if I can get myself set up on them. It may not come up often but when it does, I want to be ready.

#4) A partner is invaluable.

At most of these venues, I set up with a friend and local author, Paula Winskye. She writes mysteries and dabbles in some other genres. Having a partner does several things for us. For one, it gives us an interesting spread of genre fiction on the table. When we ask a potential shopper about their reading preferences and they say, “A little bit of everything,” (a common answer), we can say, “Well good, because we have a little bit of everything.”

Secondly, having someone you trust who can watch the booth while you step away for a moment is great for peace of mind. You don’t spend the trip to the restroom wondering if someone is swiping something from the table. You can cover each other with a five or a few ones when you’re short, secure in the knowledge you will be able to settle up.

Third, and maybe most importantly, you can talk up each other’s books and be a great sales advocate for your partner, and them for you. Granted, it helps if you have some knowledge of their books, but since Paula and I test read and proofread for each other—and because we talk writing when do these things—we’re familiar with the other’s works. That means when some wisenheimer looks at me and says, “Which one of hers is your favorite?” my response is immediate and confident. Mutually boosting each other falls into that territory of “the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.”

Of course, it helps if you get along with the other person. Fortunately, we do.

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Okay, so that was a quick summary. Lessons learned, and all that. If anyone has lessons to share, I’d love to read them.

Cheers!

Now, back to work. I’ve had a large number of buyers ask when Sydney is going to return, and I need to see to it that she does. As of now, I am about halfway through the first book in her new series.

I like it dark. Dark! Okay, not that dark.

(Note: This blog entry contains spoilers for several fantasy works, including Abercrombie’s First Law series, Parker’s The Folding Knife, Moorcock’s Elric saga, and Tolkein’s Simarillion. If you don’t know or wish to know the conclusions to these stories, abort now.)

So …

I finished reading The Folding Knife the other day. Written by K.J. Parker, the book concerns a man named Basso who, through scheming and chicanery, becomes the First Citizen (a limited dictator) of the Rome-like Vesani Republic. The book was more a socio-economic fantasy, with heavy discussions of politics, currency manipulations, international banking, and the like. It’s a different kind of fantasy book.

It was also pretty much a downer at the end, as Basso ends up broke and on the run, with everyone he ever cared about either dead, or hating him. As I returned to my Kindle’s main menu, I leaned back in my chair, stared at the ceiling, and asked myself, “Why did I read this again?”

I don’t mind dark books. I don’t mind grimdark fantasy. Mass death, maiming of main characters, assault, slavery, some light incest … none of this stuff bothers me insofar as when it is relevant and makes the story go. The world is often a nasty place and bad things do happen to good people. If it is consistent within the story, bleak subject matter won’t cause me to turn aside from a book.

(For the record, I am not bothered by slow-burn romance, noble deeds, valiant rescues, or cheesy hero tropes, for the same reasons, and I don’t consider books that are not “gritty” or are noblebright—a sometimes-used word for the opposite of grimdark—to be inferior.)

But one thing I don’t like are endings that are complete downers, where the bad guys win and there is no hope for the future. Allow me to explain.

(Muse: I sure wish you would.)

To me, there is a difference between a bittersweet ending and a complete downer. In the former, despite the protagonists suffering loss and ruin, and regardless of who is left alive, there is still a glimmer of optimism for the future. In the latter, it seems like that no matter what the protagonists have done, the other side has prevailed and all of the protagonist’s efforts—you know, the side the reader is set up to cheer for—go for naught.

And I really don’t think I like the second one. It feels like a slap in the face to the reader. I don’t mean this in an episodic sense. Certainly, the bad guys can prevail in a certain time frame. But by the end of the story arc, or trilogy or whatever, I want to see the main character succeed in their objective(s). Otherwise, what’s the point?

Some examples of bittersweet endings:

– The Simarillion. On the down side, the elvish realm of Beleriand has been destroyed, most of the high-born elves are dead or have fled, and the world is generally in ruins. However, Morgoth, the ultimate enemy, has been cast into the void and the men of Numenor are ready to usher in an era of prosperity. Obviously, the history of Middle Earth doesn’t end there but at that point, despite all the chaos, things were looking up.

– By the end of Stormbringer, at the end of the Elric saga, the entire world is dead, including the protagonist. All memories of the previous age and its wonders have been lost. However, through Elric’s actions and sacrifices, the Chaos gods have been banished and the world (and humanity) have a chance to advance without Chaos’s influence. There is hope for the future.

Okay, that’s one side. Now what I consider to be downer endings:

– By the end of the First Law series, Logen and Ferro are both on the run and/or insane, and West is dying from disease. Bayaz, the genocidal maniac who engineered countless deaths, walks away unscathed. Jezal, the coward and useless jackass, becomes king, where his hot princess wife is eager to pump out his children under threat of death to the person she really loves. Glokta, an amoral semi-sadist, ends up in the catbird’s seat, pulling the strings behind Jezal’s throne. Talk about depressing. No happy endings for anyone except the jerks.

– In the book I just finished, The Folding Knife, the protagonist Basso—who was a king-figure—is fleeing for his life, doomed to menial labor. All the people he cared about are dead (his mentor, his nephew), betrayed him (his current wife), or hate him enough to want him dead (his sister). The republic he headed is being torn by strife and economic ruin and it’s hinted that it will soon fall to its long-standing enemy. Mass death and devastation and all he has left are regrets.

In the second set of examples, I couldn’t help but walk away from these almost feeling depressed.

None of this new, either. I remember reading Romeo and Juliet circa ninth grade. Great, everyone the audience cared about was dead. I had basically same reaction then: “Why? To annoy and depress? Congrats, Willie, mission accomplished.”

Look, I’m no pollyanna. I try to be realistic. I know bad things happen and there are bad people in the world who do these things. At the same time, I view reading fiction as an escape. I go in for the story, so I can see people overcoming some of these horrible events. There doesn’t have to be a better world at the end but I want there to be a chance at a better one.

At the end of First Law, the main bad guy has gotten away with launching a war that killed tens of thousands for his own personal gain (taking out a rival). He suffers zero repercussions. The only people who end up with a happy ending are the cruel, the selfish, and the amoral.

I din’t really want to read that.

If I want to see bad people getting away with things without any comeuppance, I can flip on the news any day of the week. Our entire world is full of people who do horrible things and suffer no consequences. When I dive into fiction, I don’t expect everything to be wine and roses. But I would like a possibility that there may be something better in the future for the characters I’ve come to cheer for.

Maybe I am too idealistic.

So what’s the point of this ramble? I guess there is none, other than “dark” is not the same as “hopeless.” I can get behind dark, I think I’m done with hopeless in my fiction. (My apologies to Cormac McCarthy.) Nothing wrong with those books and for things like First Law, I know there are a ton of fans who adore them. That’s cool and I wish the authors of these books nothing but success.

They’re just not for me.

(Muse: That was a lot of talk for not saying much.)

That’s what I do.

The Boys

So …

Last night, I was scanning YouTube (actually I was looking at videos on applying epoxy to concrete floors) and I caught an advertisement for Amazon Prime, who appear to be adopting the comic series The Boys for a series.  (Link to the preview trailer here.)

The Boys might be the best deconstruction of the superhero genre I’ve ever read–better than Sanderson’s Reckoners series, in my opinion.  It builds on what Moore did in Watchmen and takes it to the next level.

The central plot of The Boys revolves around the titular group of … well, I can’t call them heroes, so I’ll say “enhanced” beings who have an unofficial role acting for the government in dealing with rogue superheroes.  When I say unofficial, I mean they are loosely sanctioned by agencies such as the CIA to discreetly kill off heroes who step out of bounds.  The leader of the group, Billy Butcher (here played by Karl Urban, a guy I always liked) is a tragic hero, whose wife was raped by a superhero and died when the subsequent super-powered baby tore its way out of the mother’s womb.  It’s that kind of story.  The other main focus of the group is named Hughie, a young man whose girlfriend is killed by accident by a careless hero and becomes a reluctant member of the Boys.

As for the heroes themselves, they are pretty much all unremitting bastards–at least, in private.  The main group of them is called The Seven and they are a thinly-veiled take on DC’s Justice League.  The leader of The Seven, Homelander, is an amoral Superman-type widely regarded as the most powerful cape on the planet but is a sadistic power-hungry asshole.  Queen Maeve, the Wonder Woman stand-in, is a drunk and sarcastic viper.  In public, beings like The Seven maintain a clean image at the behest of the corporation Vaught-American, who I believe is supposed to be a conglomerate of Blackwater, Raytheon, Nabisco, and pretty much every other evil corporate entity you can imagine.  The only one of The Seven with any seeming morals or scruples is Starlight, a naive and idealistic young woman recruited to the group as the story opens.  Her idealism is destroyed in an ugly incident as she learns the heroes are not what they seem to be (which, of course, becomes important later on as the conflict between The Seven and The Boys escalates).

The thing is, this shouldn’t work.  The writer of The Boys, Garth Ennis (Preacher, Punisher MAX, and other gritty titles) is a talented writer but he’s not subtle.  The message is just as about as clear as a blinking neon sign shoved right in your face.  And I’ve tried some of his other titles and they just didn’t click for me.

But here, the characterization is just superb.  Each of the Boys, including the lone woman, simply called The Female (from the Kipling poem), has a distinct personality and voice.  The supes do kind of blend together at times but the interactions between Hughie and Starlight, when they accidentally meet out of costume, without either knowing the other’s involvement or baggage, is the stuff of layered action-romance, and to me, provides one of the two compelling plot lines of the saga (the other being Butcher’s obsession with revenge).

I have no idea how well Amazon is going to translate this to the screen but I am willing to give it a shot.

 

The Drying MMO Pond

So …

I was in Lord of the Rings Online (LOTRO) this evening.  It’s my go-to RPG-type game when I just want to bum around a bit and talk to some old online friends.

Well, there was a discussion about MMOs (Massive Multiplayer Online games) in the “global” chat channel (meaning all players could see it no matter where they are).  I made the … ahem .. .mistake of postulating that World of Warcraft (AKA, WoW) was killed not by other games but by time.  This induced a handful of snarky comments about how saying WoW was a dead game was factually inaccurate and foolish to even question.  The general consensus was that I didn’t know what I was talking about.

That in and of itself is nothing unusual.  But not this time.

WoW reportedly had 10 million-plus subscribers at its peak, circa 2010.    Leaked numbers from last October put the subscription base around 1.7 million.  If correct, that’s about an 85% reduction in subscribers over that period.  Don’t get me wrong; 1.7 million is nothing to sneeze at.  WoW is still the biggest MMO ever made and no other MMO has ever come close to knocking it off its perch.

It’s just the biggest fish in a slowly-shrinking pond.

MMO–and specifically in the case, I am talking about MMORPG-type games–are fading in popularity, across the board.  I don’t think they will go away for good but they’ll become much more of a niche market.  Like I said, 1.7 million subscribers is a lot…but it’s two orders of magnitude less than the folks that play battle-royale games like PuBG and Fortnite.  It’s less than the number of folks who play Minecraft.  It’s less than the number of folks who play fucking Candy Crush, for Pete’s sake.

I know Blizzard has and is making tons of money off WoW.  I also know they just laid off eight hundred employees worldwide within the last month.  So clearly, despite its success, WoW is no longer the financial juggernaut that allows Blizzard to pretty much do as they pleased on the gaming scene.

Most other MMORPG developers aren’t in much better shape.  Most have moved to the business model of microtransactions–that is, providing the base game for free or a nominal charge, then nickel and diming in the game itself, for cosmetics and frills (if you’re lucky) or game content itself (if you aren’t).  The old “$15/month subscription and play everything all you want” just doesn’t feel as viable as it used to.

And in a world where someone can toss up a mobile app for under six figures and return millions of dollars, how many developers are going to risk a multi-million dollar budget on a WoW-style game these days?  Not many.

What does this have to do with writing?

Well, MMORPGs (RPG’s in general) are home to some of the best examples of world-building I can find in any fantasy medium.  Obviously, a game like LOTRO, which is based on Tolkien’s seminal works, is going to have a rich lore foundation.  But games like WoW have a rich and developed history.  Sure, it is full of fantasy tropes, like a new omniverse-ending threat emerging every ten minutes.  But imagine having a lore and a world constructed across multiple games, over two decades, and worked on by dozens of people–and still keeping it generally consistent.  That’s impressive and something I believe authors can note, study, and even emulate.  I never like turning away from potential sources of inspiration, no matter how tangential.

Or you can think I wrote this long babbling blog post because I was bored and tied together a tenuous thread.

Muse:  I vote for option two.

Shut up, you.

The End

So….

If one were to listen to the news lately, one could be forgiven for thinking that the end is nigh.  Between political strife, natural disasters, the fact that a man with the name Carrot Top has his own Las Vegas show.  And that’s just what’s going on in my native country.  It’s repeated all over the world.  It is enough to think that we are facing the end.

Are we?  Probably.

Most religions and ancient mythologies have stories about the destruction of everything and everyone.  Often, there is a rebirth or ascension of those who are saved…but sometimes, we are just left with the cold sterile void.

I am not sure why humanity is so absorbed with “The End.”  I think it is simply in our blood.  One of the counters to the Fermi Paradox is that it is the nature of intelligent life to destroy itself.  That idea manifests in literature and in our culture in general; it is pretty much the staple behind apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction.

I’ve talked about this before but it does make me stop and think–and recent events have me thinking about it more often.  Why do we do this to ourselves?  I guess some answers are not meant to be known.

In the meantime, it sometimes seems silly to deny myself that extra bite of ice cream or have more than a passing annoyance with the granddaughter’s non-stop mouth.  Life indeed is too short.  And probably shorter than we dared hope.

Muse:  That is some serious dark matter today, man.

Yeah, sue me.  I’ll have something more relevant and fun next time.

It’s That Time Again

So….

It is that time again.  The Tucson Festival of Books is this weekend (11-12 Mar) and I will again be live-tweeting it.  There are some interesting panels set up and as always, it will be a chance to hobnob with fellow writers and make some contacts.

Muse:  How well did that work out for you last year?

Well, I did meet some people.

Anyway, there will be some observations forthcoming.

 

A new “Splash.”

So…

I read over on Tor.com that Disney is proceeding with remaking yet another 80s movie remake, this time the victim being “Splash.”  The original featured two veteran actors–Tom Hanks and Darryl Hannah–when they were extremely young and fresh-faced.  It was a cute love story with moments of humor, especially as provided by John Candy, as Hanks’s lecherous older brother, and Eugene Levy, as a kooky scientist determined to prove the existence of mermaids.

I read this and kind of thought, “Meh.  Okay.”

There was a lot of controversy this summer over the remake of the classic, “Ghostbusters.”  I was annoyed–more so at the idea of a remake than the gender swap-out of the cast.  I am in the camp that there are some movies you just don’t mess with, because the originals are classics and you don’t muck with classics.  If I was leery before, director Paul Feig’s various comments, labeling anyone who criticized the decision to remake the film as basement-dwelling trolls or worse, turned me against it completely.

And I wasn’t the only one, apparently.  As the site The Numbers reports here, the film has cleared about $158M at the end of July, just a bit more than it’s production budget of $144M.  Advertising and promotion still have to be recouped.  I put most of this on Feig, for striking out and alienating potential audience members.  But anyway.

So, a remake of “Splash.”  In this case, it will be the male as the merman, and the girl as the cynical, world-worn human who gets their life uplifted by a little interspecies romance.  Part of me wanted to say, “They are just using any excuse to make a cash grab, and fucking up a perfectly-sound movie to do it.”  After all, this is Disney.

But after that reaction, I went.  “Meh.  It’s Splash.  Who cares?”  And I think that is the crux of the argument.

We only care about things that are important to us.  In this case, I am a fan of 80s movies in general, and certain ones in specific.  I’m sure it is mostly nostalgia, as seeing those again catapults me back to the days of being a teenager.  But even then, there are only certain ones that matter.  For example:

• They remade Footloose.  As a stand-alone movie, I thought it was awful.  I mean, how can you have Footloose without Kevin Bacon?  But I was never really upset about it. I more shook my head at the foolishness.
• They are trying to remake Dirty Dancing.  Per above, without Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey, it seems a waste of time.  But I was never a big fan of the movie, so whatever.
• They remade Poltergeist.  Blarg.  Again, just a bad movie, without half the terror of the original.  But again, whatever.

Then there are these:

• Red Dawn.  Seriously, what the fuck, Hollywood?  If you didn’t grow up in the Cold War, if you didn’t remember the original airing of The Day After, then yeah the original Red Dawn wouldn’t mean much to you.  But North Korea?  Are you serious?  Fail.  And by the way, nice job pussing out and not making the bad guys Chinese, so you could distribute the movie there.
• Total Recall.  The remake was a terrible idea that never should have seen the light of day.  While neither were particularly faithful to Phillip K Dick’s original story, I thought the original was more faithful.  It not only captured the feel better (by invoking Mars and interplanetary conspiracy) but had better chemistry between the cast members.  The remake was stilted and–surprise–relied too much on special effects.
• Nightmare on Elm Street.  No, just … no.  Not scary, not interesting, not original.

As I compare the two lists, I see that the second set were movies I genuinely loved and appreciated when I was a kid.  The others, not nearly as much.  As I said, I think we care a lot more about the near and dear to our heart.  And I think Ghostbusters has a lot more “Near-and-dear” fans than Splash does.

Did someone come with the gender swap because they wanted to make a point?  Maybe.  Are they looking to objectify men in exchange for all the objectification women endure–you know, give ’em a taste of their own medicine?  Maybe.  Do they have a fresh and original spin on the old material?  Maybe.  Don’t care, to all three.  It’s just not important to me.

If anything, I am offended that Hollywood seems to be so intellectually-bankrupt that they can’t make anything original anymore.  What comes out, these days?  Remakes, adaptations (comics and otherwise), Pixar/Dreamworks kid stuff … and that’s about it.  There are a few writers and directors, like Christopher Nolan and Quentin Tarentino still doing original work but they are exceptions.  Hollywood needs to find its creative mojo again.

I hear they remaking The Magnificent Seven and I am nervous.

Muse:  You know the original Magnificent Seven was itself a remake, right?

Yes, and even though Seven Samurai was a great movie in its own right, the two are separate enough to not draw a direct comparison.  And for the record, I actually liked the remake of The Thomas Crown Affair better than the original.  How will Magnificent Seven go?

We’ll see.

I Touch Myself

So …

I was minding my own business today when I heard this song.  It’s 25 years old so it just kind of came out of the blue but it reminded me of an incident in my youth.  And just so we’re clear, I did go dredge up the video on YouTube (here) so I could refresh myself on the lyrics.

Muse:  Uh, I am sure your “refreshing” nothing to do with the fact that the lead singer was a hot, big-breasted redhead that wore her bangs over her eyes just the way you like, right?

Don’t be stupid.  That … had everything to do with it.  Sadly, Chrissy Amphlett was claimed by cancer a few years ago and the world was robbed of her presence.  But back to the point.

Skip back to 1991.  I was visiting some relatives.  This song came on.  One of my relatives (who shall remain nameless) expressed disgust over the song.  I said, “What’s the problem?”

“Did you listen to the lyrics?”  My relative’s face expressed horror that I did not see the immediate issue.  “She’s a lesbian!”

I sat back on the couch, unsure exactly what to say.  The thoughts in my head were 1) the lyrics don’t indicate anything of the sort, and 2) who gives a crap if she is?  I started to say something but was interrupted by my parents entering the room.  In the name of family peace (or cowardice, if you prefer), I let it go.  I also plead the temerity of youth, since, at that time, I always hesitated to stir shit up.

Muse:  You certainly have no trouble now, do ya?

I spent years honing my curmudgeon skills.  So anyway, why this random anecdote?

Hell if I know.  I just sat here thinking about it.  I wonder if my relative ever came to grips with the prison of their own ignorance and prejudice–and then I told myself that was impossible since they lack the awareness to know they were in said prison.

Besides, calling someone a lesbian, as a way of insult … meh.  I think that ship has sailed.  Accuse of them of being a Republican.  It’s probably more damning in these times.

World Go Boom

So, in the course of my daily ramblings, I stumbled on this video on YouTube, titled, “World Battleground:  1000 Years of War in Five Minutes.”  It is a time-condensed animation of battles laid over a world map, all set to Richard Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries.  Since the explosions are proportional to the number of casualties, you can guess that Europe just plain disappears under booms from 1939-1945.

It’s not perfect and seems very Euro-centric (for example, the Mongol invasion of Khwarezm circa 1220 which produced some horrific death tolls, doesn’t show), though the creator admits to taking the list of battles from an English-language Wikipedia article and says that may the source of the bias.

What was my take-away?  Humans are very good at killing each other and that is not likely to change any time soon.  Actually, that’s depressing.  I think I need to lay down for a while.

Game of Brutality?

So….

Yeah, life has been kicking my butt and I have been most neglectful of my writing, my blog, and lots else.  Trying to get back in the swing of things, so here goes.

I read this article on Tor this morning, regarding the latest finale of Game of Thrones.  I also saw this one, asking, “Has Game of Thrones become too brutal to enjoy?”  The consensus has become that the nonstop cycle of death and rape has rendered the show unenjoyable.

I guess I am nonplussed at these lines of thinking.  GoT is now exactly what it was in the first season:  unabashed in its brutality and raw in its reality.  The recent spate of horror, death, and drama, is what makes the show so compelling in the first place.  It’s ugly at times, light-hearted at others.  Death comes swiftly, making characters maximize their time with their time.  Laughter.  Pain.  Blood.  In other words, it’s life.

I continue to be entranced by the show, even as my favorite characters fall by the wayside or die off one by one.  I was by the books, as well.  (In fact, the show – if anything – tones down certain aspects of the book.) Regardless of the brutality, the simple drama of watching the characters in which you’re vested suffer and die brings me back again and again.  Highlight for spoiler:  when Jon Snow attempts to rescue the Wildlings at the end of Episode 8, just as the white walkers show up with their army of the dead, the tension kept me riveted to my seat.  I honestly believe if the house had been on fire, I would not have left.

Anyway, various declarations by pundits and writers that some act or episode has finally pushed them over the edge and they will stop writing … well, that is certainly within their right to do so, or even write as much.   But I put little credence in such antics.  If you don’t want to watch, don’t watch.  Enjoy the show for what it is.  Or don’t.

I’ll go on watching.