I’d just watched a great movie called Man From Earth.  The premise is awesome, and without it I wouldn’t have watched it.  But during a good-gye party, friends learn that the honorary guest is a caveman who has lived for 14,000 years.  That’s right.  A bonafied caveman, cro magnon, to be exact.

It was written by famed science fantasy writer, Jerome Bixby.

It’s a fantastic premise because what the caveman reveals is just earth shattering.  I’d suggest watching.

One of the things John, the caveman, reveals is that he was a well known religious figure.  Everyone in the party at this point doesn’t really know whether to believe his story so far, but to claim to be this certain figure seems heinous.  Until John explains how this religious figure got his mythical status.  How history can apply layers of mythicism on an individual.

And that got me thinking.

I’d had the pleasure of pitching to Donald Maass, the famed New York agent who wrote How to Write the Breakout Novel.  This was my first book on writing.  I’d attended his one hour lecture at the San Francisco Writer’s Conference.  His whole thing is to write with emotional depth and make your story big.  Big with emotions.  (Wow.  I’m using a lot of fragments today.)

Some examples are betrayal, retribution, and the all time favorite “I hate you, dad!”

In my book, my hero has severe issues with his father.  His father left him without saying good-bye after being convicted of a murder.  With this, a lot of people assumed that the father was guilty, despite his fervent attempt to prove his innocence.  Kinda like OJ hurling down the freeway at 152.5 MPH.

My hero is left with the question of why.  Was his father guilty?  Did he not love my hero enough?  What did my hero do to make his father leave?  As the days pass, my hero is forced to answer these questions and begins to layer greatness upon his estranged father.

Sorta like someone breaking up with you, and you can’t stop thinking about all the good times you both had, even though there may have been a lot of bad.

Maass said these past parental issues tend to manifest themselves in other parts of your life.  For example, if your father was a perfectionist, forced and punished you to be a perfectionist, then you grow up and torture yourself to be a perfectionist at work.  Your relationships go bad because you’re trying to find the perfect man or woman.  You can’t seem to settle on any home that you visit, driving your real estate agent crazy.  You go into deep debt, buying every electronic device because they keep getting better.  You get ten plastic surgeries trying to fit the perfect mold.  All because your father prodded you to be perfect.  Then, all of a sudden, you yell at a picture of your father, “I hate you, dad!”  But what you actually hate is the person you’ve turned into, and, hopefully, as up-lifting stories go, you realize that his world of perfection doesn’t have to be yours.  And you begin to live a life that’s true to you.

The point is, when writing stories, sometimes childhood issues bubble up without the character knowing it.  He may never know it.  She may scream at a jar of honey and remember when her mother yelled at her for spilling honey on their new carpet.  It’s a great way of deepening a character.

In my last post I wrote about catching up with a friend I hadn’t really talked to for over a decade. And we talked for the whole day. Surprisingly, most of that time was talking about our passion, writing. We were trading query letters and synopsis, and he asked me about the main character of my book.

Everyone in my book hates my hero.

Why?

He’s sending tens of thousands of sons and daughters, fathers and mothers to a war that seems pointless.

Sound familiar?

However, there is a legitimate reason for this war, this war in my book.  But everyone doesn’t see it, and they exact their negative opinions.

Isolating the main character is important to create empathy for my hero.  One of hundreds of techniques used to create an emotional bond between reader and hero. The reader has a superior view of the whole story.  The reader knows the truth behind the necessity of this particular war.  So they’ll root for him.

One of my favorite shows that has ended was Jon and Kate Plus Eight.  I tell my friends that I’m an avid watcher of the show.  And I don’t watch that much TV, let alone reality TV.  But I found the kids endearing, the parent’s relationship real, cause it was, and was pulled into their family dynamic.

If you’re a fan of the show, then you know the drama that has gone on between the parents and TLC.  TLC being the network that put on the show.

The thing that saddens me are the opinions, tabloids, and hate that had been shown to all parties.  I know one thing that’s true.  Opinions are like assholes.  Everyone has them.  And they smell like ass.

No one on the outside knows really what’s going on between Jon and Kate, Jon and TLC, Kate and TLC, TLC and TLC.  The amount of crap that portrays itself as truth is so negative that I wonder why we are so engaged with it.  Is it because misery loves company?  Maybe.  Is it because we hate it when people gain a certain amount of fame and fortune?  Maybe.

Why can’t we just let them be, let them handle their issues, and live our lives?  I mean, do people not have enough of their own problems that they have to take on others, too?

One of the biggest things my character has to deal with is judgement from the people he serves to protect. They don’t realize what he’s doing is protecting them from a Hitleresque fate.

I was at the gym and saw this girl. Cute. Then it happened. “Her eyes are too Asian,” I said to myself.

Huh?

First off every one is perfect in their own way. It’s why there isn’t a perfect cherry blossom. No such thing. Because every blossom is perfect (From The Last Samurai). This applies to humans as well. Once we start comparing one to another is when this Eastern way of looking at things deteriorates.

When I was practicing crap martial arts, see my bio, we were given a special treat. Our teacher brought in a Chinese Kung Fu teacher to teach us a Chinese form. A form is a series of martial art movements against imaginary opponents. By the way, that in itself is not the best way to learn how to fight. And what makes a form Chinese? The slantiness of the movement?

As my friend and I practiced the form–we’re both Chinese–we were marvelling at how different the movement was from the daily crap that we practiced. Keep in mind I didn’t know I was studying crap martial arts till I was awakened.

One of the supervising instructors came to us and said, “You’re too Chinese,” referring to our movement.

My friend and I looked at each other. Then looked at our non-Chinese supervising teacher.

“Nooooo,” I said. “Wouldn’t want to be too Chinese.” Were our eyes extra slanty?

Everbody knows not to be judgemental. Even those who are aware of why can place judgement on others. We are after all human. It’s the conscious practice of being non-judgemental that’s important. Not the mistakes of when we are. But if you’re not aware that judgement is wrong, is the person still to blame?

I can’t say. And neither does the hero of my book. So what does he do? Continues to serve despite the hate he gets from doing so.

In Bruce Lee’s only filmed interview he was asked if he wanted to be thought of as Chinese or a North American. He was born in San Francisco. He said he wanted to be thought as a human being.

Here’s an experiment: Spend an hour without placing judgement on others. If you do, no problem. Just start the hour over. See how long you can do it.

Here’s a different take on the glass being half full or empty.

Several of my coworkers volunteered at a crisis center.  Their main function is a food bank.  We arrived in the early morning and watched a video about the center.  One of the staff members led two of us to the back and we packed food for distribution.  We packed cardboard boxes of food for families that ranged from one through six.  For a larger family a combination of boxes can be given.

People who arrive to collect food earn below the poverty line and have no current means of earning more.  They’re also heavily affected by the economic situation.  Not that I want to use it as an excuse because I know each of us can create our own economic environment.

When I went back to work someone asked me how volunteering was.  I explained where it was, what we did, that the center provided food to those who need it.

“Isn’t that sad?” she said.

I thought about it for a moment.  Is it sad?

The crisis center has provided food for those who need it for years.  When people come get food to help feed their families, they’re extremely thankful.  The vibes of service that flowed through that place was very inspiring.  Inspiring enough for me to write a post.  I mean, the center feeds over five thousand families in any single month.

People are coping with their current situations.  Giving up would mean giving up on their children, their families.  Would you?

The person who thought it was sad didn’t understand the good the crisis center provided.  She continued to say how lucky we were to have our jobs.  Sure.  I agree.  But her view on the crisis center indicates her view of life as half empty.  Do you?

In my story, the hero is forced to fight his opposition for good reason.  He can’t give up, even though he desperately wants to. Fighting a war puts his warrior son at risk, but giving up would put hundreds of thousands of lives into severe oppression.

The worst part is that the people the hero is fighting for sees his act of war as egotistical.  They see the glass half empty because they don’t fully understand the situation.  They don’t know their hero is fighting for their freedom.  That is sad.

To rebel or not rebel.  That is the question.

The hero in my book is confronted with a choice.  His close friend and former mentor wants to brutally take over the world.  The hero is given the safe and easy position of being the right hand man.  Doing so would kill tens of thousands of lives through war.  Rebelling against his mentor would kill tens of thousands of lives through war.  Probably more.  Nice choice, huh?

I was watching a documentary called Slanted Screen. It chronicled the stereotypical and racial barriers Asian actors have to go through and endure in order to be successful in Hollywood.  I enjoyed the documentary, but I have a serious problem with it.  More on that later.

The main message was rebel.

One of the main reasons Asians are not seen as much in Hollywood is that acting, singing, dancing, the arts, are not considered practical choices of occupation.  I know.  My family detested my decision to study acting, and at times isn’t the most positive when it comes to my success in writing.

Actor Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa has been in tons of movies such as Mortal Kombat, Rising Sun with Sean Connery and  Wesley Snipes, and in upcoming movie Tekken.  The list is just huge.  He said something that I connect to.  If your heart is in the arts, and your family doesn’t support it, then don’t listen to your family.

Rebel.

I think too much in life we succumb to the norm.  Afraid of marching to our own drummer.  Wary of listening to our hearts let alone follow it.

I wrote a post about themillion dollar question. It asked, if you were guaranteed to make a million dollars a year, what would you do?  Does it match the work you’re doing now?  If not, can you spend an hour a day, five days a week on it?  If that’s too much time, then reduce it to 45 minutes a day, five days a week.  Or 30 minutes, five days a week.  Four days.  Three.  Just start.

What happens, if you truly love it, or like it, is you’ll naturally spend more time on it.  You’ll sacrifice precious things like hours talking shit in the bar, or watching television.  Have your own vision.  It happened to me.  I started writing around five hours a week.  Then it grew to ten.  Suddenly, I was spending an average of 15 hours a week writing.  I loved it.

We all have bills.  We have to eat.  Take care of our families.  Have laundry that we have to wash on the rocks by the river bed.  After we clothespin the laundry on the clothesline, what do we do?  We sit down on the couch and watch TV.  We watch reality TV.  Watch others chase, attack their dreams.  We see a lot of them succeed.  Then we go to bed, sleep, wake up the next morning, and start the circle all over again.

This is called complaining, playing the victim, blaming things outside of ourselves, when it is us who stopped us from chasing our dreams initially.  And that was the problem with Slanted Screen.  A lot of people interviewed said being Asian made it hard to succeed in Hollywood.  Really?

Have you heard of a small guy namedBruce Lee?

Rebel.

When I was a kid, I loved movies.  But there were certain ones that I’ve always connected to but never knew why.  Now, as I’m wiser, not necessarily more mature, I know why I loved certain movies, why I kept watching them over and over.

One day I was rummaging through a fantasy book store and came across The Neverending Story, by Michael Ende.  The book was first published in 1979 in German.  Ralph Manheim translated it to English.  I must have seen the movie dozens of times.  I loved the characters, I loved the story within the story, and I totally loved the soundtrack.  So when I saw the hardcover, I bought it.

For parents and children, this is totally appropriate.  It’s an allegory on life, and if you watch the movie with your kids, ask them what the movie means.  It’s the one thing that I don’t see parents doing is asking their kids what things mean to them.  Do it and you’ll be surprised by what you find out.

When I mentor students, I always ask what things mean, or how they feel about the experiences they’re going through.  It’s also my main tool in getting them to open up.  Eventually, they spill the beans about anything that I ask.  I need to know what they’re thinking, feeling in order to help them out.  Click here if you want to read more on talking to your children.

If you read to your kids, read The Neverending Story.  If not, then watch the movie.  Don’t have the money to rent movies, well the whole movie is on youtube:  Part 1.

While I was perusing youtube at work, don’t tell my boss, I came across the Karate Kid.  This is an interesting movie.  Not because of the awesome cat-like choreography.  To me the hero is interesting.

A normal underdog story goes something like this:  hero enters new world (town, school, wizard school), is overwhelmed by bad dude (love interest’s ex, bully, the most evilest powerfulest wizard), gets a gift (learns the way of love, learns how to fight, learns he’s a great wizard), and, voila, hero wins.

Most of the times, the bad buy is an actual bad guy.  Not in The Neverending Story or Karate Kid.  The antagonist is the hero’s disbelief in themselves.

When we look at Neverending, Bastian, the hero, must follow his inspiration, his love for books, fantasy, and story.  It isn’t until he fully gives in does he overcome the antagonist, self-doubt.  In Kid, Daniel must believe in himself.  He never got stronger, faster, or learned more karate then the bully.  The bully was never the obstacle, just the opportunity.  His teacher guided him to trust in his ability, to let go of his self-proclaimed weaknesses.  In doing so, Daniel prevailed, or what I like to term kicked ass.

I’ve always loved stories that have this undertone.  When I look at the characters I’ve written in my book, all of them at some level must deal with self-belief.  It’s the one thing I hone in on when I mentor people.   I use stories to open conversations with children, to guide them toward their passions in life, their truth.