Saturday, May 31, 2014

140Story - Day 3

I'm writing a story 140 words at a time and posting the results here daily.  Can I sustain interest?  Will I lose the narrative thread?  Find out in the next installment of Bullets Ain't Cheap.

to talk to them, and I desperately wanted to avoid that.  After I thought about it for a moment, I took the glass and saluted them in return.  Which meant now I owed them.
    I’d give anything to give back that free drink.
    Crewcut Douchebag Number One stood and made his approach.  He was the sort who tugged on his lapels for confidence.  Square jaw, but not much stubble, clear eyes without a single wrinkle at the edges.  He was a kid playing at being grown.
    “I’m Burton,” he said.  “I’m with Telrik.”
    Of course he was.  My old employer.  Back when I thought exchanging my conscience and soul for a regular paycheck was a good bargain.
    “Not interested,” I said, “but thanks for the drink.”
    “You’re Lily Walker.”  He watched my face, waiting for a response.  But if he

Friday, May 30, 2014

140Story - Day 2

It just occurred to me that people will have to scroll down to read the first bits.  If they want to read them in order.  Maybe it'll be better backwards.
   To recap, I'm telling a story not in 140 character chunks, but in 140 word chunks.  Kind of builds in an annoying cliffhanger every day, doesn't it?   I will continue daily until either the story's finished (no idea when, I'm writing it in 140 word chunks), I lose interest, or I see others have lost interest.

The next 140 word chapter of Bullets Ain't Cheap:

to pay for this round.”
    He nodded at the crewcut douchebags who’d come in half an hour ago.  They sat in the corner, backs to the wall, each nursing a beer they’d barely sipped.  They looked like cops, they sat like cops, they gave me the eye like cops.  But they weren’t cops.  Not regular ones, the kind the city paid.  They were corporate security.  Hired assholes.  They saw me and raised their beers in salute.
    I shook my head.  “I pay for my own drinks.”
    Scully winced.  “You kind of don’t.  Not this month at least.  You might want to give this a second thought.”
    He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but Scully was wise in the ways of the world.  And he had a business to run, same as me.  But if I accepted I’d have


Thursday, May 29, 2014

140Story - Day 1

I thought of something new I'm going to try.  Full disclaimer, this is an experiment, and as such has a very high probability of failing.  But it might work, too.
   I thought about people who consume information in tiny chunks nowadays, which is many people.  If you can't express it in 140 characters, then what's the point #amirite?  But stories take more than 140 characters.  They require development and nurturing.  No one can do a story in 140 character chunks, you just can't follow the narrative thread.
     But what about 140 word chunks?
Could a person - me - write a story in 140 word units, and have it hold together?  Could people consume it in 140 word chunks and enjoy it?  I don't know, but I want to find out.

I'm going to write a story in 140 word chunks and post it daily.  How many days?  Until it's done. Or until I lose interest.  Or until I find out that everyone else has lost interest.  Like I said, it's an experiment.
   I chose a modern noir story, because I think that sort of tale requires very little set-up, the tropes are familiar, and people can jump in at any point and get the gist of what's going on.  I hope.  So here goes, the first installment of my 140Story, Bullets Ain't Cheap.

The night was hot but the whisky was cold, and Scully let me put it on my tab.  Funds had been running dry lately, with a few clients who hadn’t bothered to pay me and a landlord always half a day away from packing up what little I had and throwing it onto the sidewalk. Sure, being a private detective was tough, but I was my own boss, worked my own hours, and never had to wear a necktie.  It was a fair trade in my book.
    I tapped my glass, hoping Scully would spot me another two fingers of scotch.  He did.  As the turpentine vapors hit my nose I savored the liquor on my tongue.  I’d developed a taste for it during the war.  Maybe too much of a taste.
    “Lily,” Scully said, “the gentlemen over there want

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Dear Hollywood

Dear Hollywood:

First, let me say that the last few years - heck, the last fifteen years - have been magical for me.  Really.  I think it started with 'The Fellowship of the Ring,' one of my favorite books, and one that I certainly never expected to see on the big screen.  I mean, how crazy is it that I got to see the Balrog and Rivendell and... just... everything?  So I thank you for that.  Then there was Spider-Man, the Raimi version.  Excellent, and true to the story.  Then there was Watchmen, another movie I never thought could be done in live-action.  But you did it, Hollywood.  And it was superb.  Then there were the X-Men, and Iron Man, and the Hulk and the Avengers, all Marvel properties, which I don't begrudge you.  Honestly, DC and Warner Bros. have yet to get it together for a large franchise.  Harry Potter seven or eight times, Narnia, another go at Tolkien.  There was Hellboy - twice - and Constantine and Ghost Rider and The Dark Knight and Captain America and Wolverine.  Superman two or three times.  And, yes, I'll even count Green Lantern.  You discovered superheroes at last, Hollywood, and jumped in with both feet.  The kid in me who always longed to see his comic-book heroes come to life has lived to see the day.  Which makes what I'm about to say a little difficult.

It's got to stop.

I say this as a lifelong comic collector.  I have 39 long boxes of comics- conservatively figure 10,000 issues - bought with my own money the hard way, once a week on Wednesday, every Wednesday, for decades.  The comic store guys call me 'sir.'  I know the material, I love the material, I love the movies, even the bad ones.  I'm a fan.  I'm the guy you most want in your corner, but I can't be, not any longer.  Hollywood, you need to quit it with the superhero movies.  The concept has run its course, it's not novel, it's not exciting, it's not anything I want to see.

Do you remember when you were a kid, Hollywood, maybe fourteen, and you knew your way around town and you had your own money?  You could make your own decisions and not have to answer to anyone.  Not until you got home, anyway.  And that one time you decided what you really wanted to spend your lawnmowing money on was ice cream? Not a cone from the truck, but a half gallon from the grocery store.  And you and your friend each bought half a gallon, and plastic spoons, and you went to the park and ate as much ice cream as you thought you wanted. When you were eating, it was great, wasn't it?  But afterwards... oh, afterwards you realized that the reason your mother never let you eat an entire half gallon of ice cream was that it was a terrible idea.

You're eating too much ice cream right now, Hollywood.  You're releasing too many superhero movies, and they're all starting to look the same. What began as a cause slowly became a business and now is becoming a racket.* Can't you see you're poisoning the well?
     I get it, guys my age with my kind of life experiences run you now, Hollywood, and they want to see what I wanted to see.  But it's not the only thing I wanted to see.  Twenty years ago superhero movies were tough to sell and almost impossible to make, I get it, and now that technology has advanced you can put on the screen what you never could before.  The challenge is to do that with new properties instead of retreading ideas and characters and stories that are seventy-plus years old.  I thought I wanted to see my comic books up on the big screen, but it turns out I liked them better when they were on the page.

So, that's it, Hollywood.  We're breaking up, you and I.  No more superhero movies.  I'm done.  When you get a fresh idea that doesn't involve mining someone else's work, give me a call.  I won't change my number, but I'm not going to hold my breath either.

Sincerely,
Don Hartshorn 


* thank you Eric Hoffer