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?

When I was doing research for my book, I’d read books on Vikings, Native American Indians and Samurais. There was also a lifetime of Chinese period soap operas lurking in my head that made its way on paper. My brother pointed out a common theme that I used without knowing it in my episodes.

Then I ventured down to individuals such as Miyamoto Musashi, Geronimo, and Ibn Fadlan.  I’ve also used Sun Tzu’s Art of War and Robert Greene’s The 33 Strategies of War.  I then obsessed over movies such as Braveheart, the events at the Battle for Thermopile and the History Channel.

The Samurai culture has always interested me.  In my research there was a movie I came across called The Twilight Samurai.  I immediately fell in love with it.  So much so that I bought a copy of it.  Not download it!  Bought.  It stars Hiroyuki Sanada.  If you’ve seen Tom Cruise’s The Last Samurai, then you’ve seen Sanada.  He was the one who taught Cruise’s character how to sword fight.

Twilight won a dozen Japanese awards and was nominated best foreign language film in the 2002 Academy Awards.

Despite the fact that Sanada plays a low ranking Samurai, I fell in love with the character.  The character is widowed, humble to a fault, works a low paying job, loves raising his two daughters, one of the best Samurais, cares nothing for advancement, and dreams of working on his own farm.  Empathy techniques at work?

The romance in the movie works so well, tons of chemistry, and no sex scenes.  I like sex scenes, don’t get me wrong, like in a porno.  But it seems a lot of movies use sex to get the movie goer to come–ahem–instead of using it as a tool to forward the romantic story.

Take The Matrix as an example.  Look at the special effects, which the movie required.  Most of it, if not all, wasn’t terribly advanced or over done for it’s time.  Special effects was used as a tool to forward the plot, never used to get the movie goer to come.

One thing that really caught me about Twilight is there seems to be no real antagonist.  Where’s Darth Samurai?  Then it occurred to me.  The antagonist was society.  The hero struggles with money, raising his daughters, living with his senile mother and the disrespect the other Samurai.  He’s constantly badgered to remarry, to advance, to succumb to everyday standards.

His response?

“I’m too cool for ya’ll.”

Not really.  But he does resist it all.  Then comes his childhood love.  She is the monkey wrench to his well oiled machine.  From there, the story develops well, the romance progresses with all its angst, using the sign of the times to present obstacles, and there’s enough action to help the story along.  Though the sword fighting is not central to the movie.

If you like Samurai movies, rent this.  You’ll love it.