Heroes: Definitely a matter of taste, but there are certain essentials: generous size, just the right amount of fillings, nicely toasted buns. But it’s not just the, um, pastrami that counts.

In keeping with most readers, I have strong and unapologetic opinions about what a hero should be like. For starters, I don’t have much patience with the über alpha knuckle-dragger who mows through a story muttering MINE MINE MINE and marking his territory, incl. the heroine, like a Tom cat with urinary issues. (Anyone remember Red Dwarf?)

I like a manly man, but one who actually likes the fact that the heroine is her own person. Sure, he can untie her from the train tracks and sweep her away to a mountaintop chalet for a solid week of mind-blowing sex …that’s all part of the fun…but if two characters are the missing halves of each other seeking a zen-like balance, neither one can be completely in charge all the time.

But he can’t be too perfect, either. Realistic characters don’t have everything figured out on page one. For there to be growth, for hero to fall in love and, y’know, to have a plot, there’s probably stuff he needs to learn. And, if the hero is still searching for the ultimate designer wardrobe, weaponry, or the meaning of life, the heroine has something substantial to offer him. Advice. Comfort. Padded hangers. Whatever.

And he might not realize right away what a wonderful gift he’s been given, because a good protagonist usually screws up at least once. We bond with them because of their mistakes. Who doesn’t love a hero all the more when he finally sees the light and set out to make things right? It’s their struggle to be better that gives the reader courage and hope.

Speaking of bonding … I love the latest Bond incarnation, because—even though he’s, like, Bond—he gets dirty, hurt, grumpy and doesn’t always have the right answer. I can believe he walks the earth (and please give me his address).

So, for all you dark heroes taking notes, a few miscellaneous tips:

• Don’t sniff your date, even if you are a werewolf. It sends the wrong message.

• Allow your date to set the pace of courtship. Just because she’s your destined mate doesn’t mean she won’t get a restraining order.

• Don’t brag about your wardrobe, limitless personal fortune, or private army. It makes us want to poke you in the eye.

• Don’t claw the furniture, bedsheets, chew on the carpet, or shed. Shift in the back yard, for pity’s sake.

• If you’re Undead, let your new girl know early in the relationship. Corpse Surprise on the morning after can put chill a promising friendship, not to mention your lover’s feet.

• Most important, consult a professional hairdresser for a good shampoo. All that black clothing has its challenges.

Ran across this story a couple of days ago:

http://www.vancouversun.com/Health/Blood+powers+vampire+battery/1459569/story.html

This is extremely cool and no, it doesn’t require hooking the undead into a wall socket.

Researchers at the University of British Columbia have developed a fuel cell that feeds on human blood. While this sounds utterly gross, it has wonderful uses for things like pacemakers, which currently require surgical battery replacement. Basically, pop one of these babies in, and you’re good to go as long as there’s blood in your veins.

This fuel cell runs on the natural sugars in the blood. Yeast feeds on the blood sugars and creates electricity.

My question is, what happens if you eat a whole box of apple fritters? Do you give yourself a shock?

Okay, I’m twisted (did I just hear a chorus of “ya think???”) but when I sat down to ponder my favourite romantic moments—or favourite moments, period—they weren’t particularly hearts and flowers but they were compelling.

The hands-down top bizzaro romantic scene has to be in Margeurite de Valois, a Dumas novel that was made into a French-language film (nowhere as good as the book). It’s a semi-true sixteenth-century historical epic about a group of royals in the French court. A passionate and doomed love affair between the title character and her swain ends up with his beheading (the characters have the life span of gnats in this book). The scene I nominate as Top Weird Moment is Marguerite’s tender moment(s) with the severed head, which she keeps in a velvet bag as a tribute to their fatal love.

I had just had four impacted wisdom teeth removed prior to reading Marguerite, and I think the drugs might have clouded my perceptions, but there was something of a wild romantic sensibility few authors attempt these days.

A prettier episode is the Romantic Scene That Never Was. I love the farewell between Arwen and Strider in the film version of Lord of the Rings, even if most of it is in elvish. The scene was implied in the book, but never got the full treatment. Tolkien wasn’t much for love scenes or well-developed female characters, and this is one instance where a movie did add something to the book. This scene is important because we get a sense of what is at stake on a personal level for the two lovers. Arwen is going to sacrifice her immortality and her place among her people to be with the man she loves, and we need this moment to give weight to her decision.

But my All Time Favourite is from Ivanhoe, when the Templar knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert fights to save Rebecca, sacrificing his honour to prove her innocence. This is his turning point and redemption. He fights without any hope of a HEA or even chivalric brownie points. He protects her because love and his personal sense of right and wrong demand it. This may not be a “love scene” per se, but it’s romance at its best—love transforming a troubled character into someone more noble, someone who rises above the constraints of his society, someone worthy of our approbation. In one chapter, Bois-Guilbert moves from villain to good guy and has stayed on my fave heroes list ever since.

Cross posted from Silk and Shadows

I’m going crazy. I need help.

Last night I logged into a site called www.amiestreet.com. It was recommended as a place to find independent music. It looked good in theory—give them a bunch of artists you like, and the system provides recommendations based on your tastes. I did that, and it gave me…nothing to do with my list, unless Dead Can Dance has a relationship with Pavarotti that I don’t know about. Nothing at all against Luciano, but I’m already all stocked up on opera.

Okay, I have picky but broad tastes. I like early music and classical but I also like heavy metal. I’m not a jazz fan. I love Celtic. Country, in my mind, is best experienced outdoors with beer. However, for writing, I like something a bit dark.

My selections of late have been:
On Thorns I Lay
Dead Can Dance
Lacuna Coil
Nox Arcana
Midnight Syndicate
Qntal

And I’d really like to add something new to the mix. Can anyone recommend some albums and/or a music site that is geared in this direction? I just don’t have time right now for endlessly searching, so I’m begging …

Successful authors know how to use this important tool. Part of its value is that its utility extends beyond the editorial process:

• It’s useful for marketers, because they can create a catchy campaign from it.
• It’s useful for sales people, because they know right off the bat how to place a product in their catalogue or store.
• In some cases, it’s useful for the consumer, because they get an idea from a tag line or logo what to expect from the product.

And this is all good, because we write commercial fiction which is, y’know, meant for commerce. The good and the bad of it is that almost nobody along the supply chain actually has to read any of our books because they’ve been given high concept pitches that bypass all that page-turning stuff. Efficient but—kinda weird.

(Which reminds me of a peculiar movie I saw and loved called How to Get Ahead in Advertising. I won’t even try to explain it, just rent it. Trust me.)

High concept must be used cautiously during the pitch phase of a book. All too often the author is stuck trying to live up to what seemed like an excellent idea in the thrill of the sales moment.

“Yeah,” says Author, “the story is kind of like Edgar Allan Poe meets Shrek. With flying monkeys.”
“Great,” says Editor. “Just make sure it has lots and lots of sex.”

So there sits Author, despondently wondering how to get Edgar and Donkey into bed. Author remembers college daydreams of the Booker Prize, and wonders where it all went wrong.

For me, high concept is a tool, not a method. When my world is nearer the “perfect” end of the happyometer, I get to hold off on addressing marketing concepts (high or low) until I actually know what the book is about. For me, that means writing at least a good chunk of it. Then I can figure out how to explain it to other people and adjust accordingly. If I do it the other way around, I end up with Edgar and Donkey in the back seat hoping the flying monkeys don’t have cameras.

(x posted in part from www.SilkandShadows.com)