Author of sci-fi/fantasy, horror and adventure/thriller fiction

FOUNDATION, Season 1

by Leave a Comment

As a fan of the classic sci-fi series by Isaac Asimov, I was pretty excited about FOUNDATION appearing as a screen adaptation on Apple TV. The result didn’t quite live up to the anticipation. I fully expected the original material–which was complex and difficult to adapt–to be interpreted, but the new material didn’t really add all that much that didn’t feel fairly generic, particularly in terms of the kind of powerful ideas that made Asimov’s series so great.

In the books, a vast empire spans the known galaxy. But one man, Hari Seldon, through his understanding of a new science called psychohistory, believes the empire is in decline, further predicting the a subsequent dark ages would last thirty thousand years. He is allowed to establish a scientific outpost on a remote planet called Terminus, where he hopes to store the galaxy’s knowledge and shorten the dark ages to only a thousand years. It’s brilliant stuff, based on the idea that vast populations can be analyzed to see the trajectory of history, and that individuals can influence but not change the outcome. The Empire is doomed; soon, Foundation will be alone in a barbaric age and must fend for itself to save civilization. The books episodically jump through time with different characters to show the Foundation encountering and overcoming various crises threatening to disrupt Seldon’s plan.

The Apple TV series follows the same basic premise, though with some significant changes, enough to make this an “inspired by” rather than a straight adaptation. We spend a lot of time with Cleon, the emperor, as he struggles with the political implications of Seldon’s theory and growing dissension inside and outside the palace. We also follow Seldon’s followers on Terminus as they struggle to survive and navigate disaffected planets around them. And so on. With ten episodes interpreting something like a hundred pages of source material, plenty of original storytelling was involved. Some of it is interesting, but a lot of it doesn’t seem to go anywhere and feels generic to the point of being filler, particularly in the second half. Probably the biggest issue I had was with the subverting of the basic premise. We get two characters who are linked and have special abilities ranging from super intelligence to clairvoyance, and they appear to be key to achieving Seldon’s plan in an almost “chosen one” formula sense, though the whole idea of a single aberrant individual disrupting psychohistoric predictions was considered not critical but instead a major threat to it in the novels. Then after all sorts of crazy stuff where the actions of a single individual change everything, here’s Seldon saying, yeah, this was my plan all along. Wait, what?

There is a lot to like here. The world building is pretty terrific, producing a richly textured future galactic civilization. The cast is great, particularly the great Jared Harris as Seldon, and very diverse (though oddly no east Asians). The perpetuation of the Cleonic dynasty had some good ideas, and the derelict battleship was pretty cool. The story tying them together, however, felt random and occasionally empty to me, however, and when it was presented as all tying together as Seldon’s plan, I didn’t quite buy it. This is the challenge of telling individual stories in an overall story that is primarily about ideas.

HELLBOUND

by Leave a Comment

From director Yeon Sang-ho (TRAIN TO BUSAN) and based on a popular webtoon of the same name, HELLBOUND is Netflix’s latest Korean series that shows what can be accomplished with great characters, bold ideas, and a challenging story. Hollywood, take note.

The story rolls out a bit like a loose mosaic focused around a bizarre, horrifying phenomenon and how humanity reacts to it, with multiple characters and a three-year jump into the future halfway through the six-part series. The phenomenon is simple: various people are visited by a spirit that tells them the time and date of their death and that they are bound for Hell. At the appointed time, monstrous creatures arrive to smash them to a pulp before whisking them off to the infernal realm.

As the phenomenon becomes widely known, various groups arise saying it is God’s judgment for sins, creating a new worldwide religion based around analyzing the judged sinners and interpreting their sins as pronouncements about God’s will. This new church seems far more concerned with power than truth, however, and its violent adherents go to extreme lengths to shame and attack sinners and their families. If you’re on God’s side and helping with His will, anything becomes justified, including the worst sins. While the judgments and terrible monsters are horrifying enough, particularly the waiting for them to show, the real horror is in how people start to do evil thinking they’re doing good.

Thematically, HELLBOUND reminded me of THE LEFTOVERS, where humanity is faced with an impossible change that stubbornly and maddeningly remains unexplained, and then struggles to project meaning onto it, with varying results. It plays on the idea that the divine isn’t all unconditional love but instead fertile ground for cosmic horror. The show goes so much farther, though, with its powerful intellectual ideas about meaning, religion, what constitutes sin, what role humans have in judging it, and so on.

I absolutely loved this one for its sheer intellectual audacity, challenging ideas, and utterly new take on cosmic horror. Highly recommended.

UNDERCARD by David Albertyn

by Leave a Comment

UNDERCARD, a debut novel by David Albertyn, follows the lives of four old friends who reunite in Las Vegas and, over 24 hours, have their lives completely upended. Slightly noirish and set against the backdrop of the War on Terror, Black Lives Matter, Las Vegas corruption, and professional boxing, it’s a powerfully written, in-your-face read. It’s missing a strong moral that makes noirish fiction work–at least I missed it–but overall I liked it as a simple story that packs a punch.

The novel focuses on four people who grew up in Sin City. There’s Antoine, a professional boxer three years out of prison with a personal vendetta; Tyron, a Marine returning home after a decade of war overseas; Keenan, a cop who shot an unarmed teenager and is the subject of BLM protests; and Naomi, a professional basketball player retired to turn coach, loved by each of them. Tonight, Antoine will fight a renowned boxer, a prizefight he must win to earn his name and possibly his vengeance, which will set them each on a path to right old wrongs and hopefully survive.

The writing has a nice energy to it, a hard noirish tone, and heavily developed characters, each of whom is flawed but likeable and somewhat larger than life due to their rich (if a little improbable in combination) backgrounds. The violence and passion of the prizefight serves as the novel’s centerpiece that ties the old friends back together, and it’s delivered with a terrific power. The ending brings it all home nicely, though after the fight the novel loses some energy and never regains it, not even in the climax, and I was left wondering what the point was in bringing all the backdrop issues–BLM, War on Terror, etc.–into the story other than purely to flavor and titillate.

Overall, I liked UNDERCARD a lot. It’s a fun read that delivers a solid punch for its strong characters and style.

I STILL SEE YOU (2018)

by Leave a Comment

Based upon the novel BREAK MY HEART 1000 TIMES by Daniel Waters, I STILL SEE YOU (2018) is a spooky sort of post-apoc, sort of horror film that delivers a terrific setup, only to sap its energy in a narrow, conventional plot whose resolution isn’t very surprising. (This review covers the movie, not the book, which I haven’t read.)

After a physics experiment goes wrong in Chicago, resulting in an explosion of strange energy, countless thousands are dead, and the survivors deal with the aftermath of loss. Making things worse and far weirder is the fact that ghosts of the event’s victims now haunt the world as remnants, blindly acting out parts of their day in a seemingly endless loop.

Growing up in this world–and dealing with the ghost of her father appearing every day at the dining room table to join his family for breakfast–high school student Veronica Calder struggles to cope. When a new ghost appears in her bathroom bearing a cryptic message, she turns to the spooky new kid, Kirk, for help. Together, they discover an unsettling truth–some ghosts can interact with the physical world, and one of them seemingly wants to murder Veronica. This leads them into the evacuated ruin of Chicago and the truth about who wants her dead and why.

As I said, the setup is terrific. The idea of a major city and its suburbs being haunted is pretty awesome. The idea that the ghosts may be changing, gaining power. The characters are fairly stock, good-looking YA types but that was okay. I was happy to see Dermot Mulroney, who is rocking his age (55 back in 2018), in the film. There are some great set pieces, such as when they go to Chicago.

Unfortunately, after the setup, the film became pretty predictable and, well, lifeless for me. (I hate easy puns that use a work of art’s subject against it, so sorry about “lifeless,” but it’s the only word that really nails it for me.) I didn’t like the characters enough to become really invested, and once the plot narrowed from its incredible possibilities to rote fare and became predictable, rolling forward at a low energy level, there wasn’t a whole lot to stick around for.

I STILL SEE YOU has gotten slammed on Rotten Tomatoes and other sites. I don’t think it’s that bad, not at all. It’s just not as good as its terrific setup might have had it.

This Is Your Brain on Writing

by Leave a Comment

In my last post, I described a journey I took to better understand the science of reading and what insights I could gain from it as a writer. I found the topic fascinating enough to keep going.

What about writing? What’s happening in our brains while we produce stories? What could I learn from this to be a better writer?

Writing and the brain

The process of creative formulation and physical writing lights up a whole lot of the human brain. Language, cognition, memory, visual processing, planning and control, and the ability to make associations between unrelated concepts all come into play. The prefrontal cortex, the anterior cingulate cortex, Broca’s area, posterior cingulate cortex, and hippocampus.

A small number of studies have looked at the concept of “story creation” and what areas of the brain might be involved. In one study from 2005 (Howard-Jones et al), participants were presented with a set of three words and asked to create a story based around them while getting a brain MRI. The researchers found activity not just in the brain’s language region but also the region responsible for making associations between unrelated concepts.

In a later study in 2013 (Shah et al), participants were given 30 words, asked to brainstorm a story, and then given two minutes to write during an MRI. The researchers found activity in the region responsible for planning and control during the brainstorming.

Writers are born and made

One can’t consider the brain of a writer without wondering if there’s something different about it that makes that person predisposed to being one.

The popular conception is that writers are born with all their talent, creativity can’t be taught, and inspiration arrives like lightning allowing the mad writer to crank out a great work.

The reality is that while creativity is a function of intelligence, the majority of people have creative problem-solving skills, and the actual skills involved in writing can be taught. Writers do not have to write in a vacuum but can benefit from criticism as long as it is thoroughly constructive. Writing is hard work, and writers have more control over their work than might be felt during the process.

In fact, practice makes perfect, and writing is no exception, as borne out by research suggesting veteran writers have brains tuned for writing. If you’re like me, you’re a better writer today than you were last year, and not as good a writer as you’ll be next year.

In one study led by Martin Lotze, German researchers observed brain activity during the writing process and discovered that brain activity is different between novices and veterans. The brain activity of professional writers is similar in some ways to the brains of other skilled people like musicians or athletes, Lotze concluded.

In short, like a violinist who has to make a lot of racket before getting good, be prepared to grow as a writer by writing.

Writer traits

What else can we learn about how the writing brain behaves?

Fortunately for us, there has been an explosion of psychological research in this area in recent years. In one study, researchers at the University of California attempted to profile the psychology of the creative writer by evaluating 30 distinguished writers over three days in a “live-in” assessment.

They found five common traits: possessed a high intellectual capacity, valued intellectual and cognitive matters, valued independence, had high verbal fluency and quality of expression, and enjoyed aesthetic impressions.

In another qualitative study, researcher Jane Piirto studied writers listed in the Directory of American Poets and Writers. She collected and analyzed interviews, memoirs, and biographies.
She too found five distinguishing traits: high levels of ambition (and envy!), high concern with philosophical issues such as the meaning of life, high levels of frankness and risk-taking, high value on empathy, and a keen sense of humor.

Yes, writers are awesome.

But… they’re also more likely to have certain mental issues.

Researcher A.M. Ludwig compared 59 female writers to 59 matched controls and found the writers suffered from higher levels of depression, mania, panic attacks, generalized anxiety, eating disorders, and drug abuse. Members of artistic professions, he found in subsequent research, were twice as likely to suffer from two or more psychological disorders as people in other professions.

At the same time, it is interesting to note that despite this, writers remain prolific, which is a sign of resilience, health, and strength of ego.

Fortunately for us, writing is also therapeutic. It’s commonly used as a therapeutic tool based on the premise that writing’s one feelings causes emotional trauma to fade along with growing self-awareness and self-development. And it just feels good.

The flow

Now let’s get into the creative process. The process of writing is highly varied depending on the writer, but scientists have attempted to identify the stages in the creative process.
One of the most popular is the Wallace 4-step process: preparation (gather information), incubation (subconscious works on ideas), illumination (make connection between ideas), and implementation (ideas become reality via critical thinking). To which creative frustration may be added (is this story working?).

M. Csikszentmihalyi conducted a qualitative study of creative people, including prominent writers, who described experiencing “flow” during the process of writing. The writers described flow as a state of extreme concentration, challenge, skill, and reward.

SK Perry advised writers on how to get flow going. Be passionate about your project, get feedback, engage in preparation rituals—such as stopping work in the middle of a scene or sentence, allowing you to start again quickly next time—and minimize anxiety about a critical reception for your work.

I think that last one is a crusher—the fear nobody will like what you’ve created—necessitating very supportive and constructive feedback.

One way to get creativity flowing is to become exposed to others’ creative ideas. In one MRI study, 31 participants were asked to come up with alternate uses for everyday objects. Some of the participants were shown ideas of others, which resulted in increased neural network activity and subsequent greater originality.

For writers, this might mean reading the work of other authors, joining writing groups, attending writing conventions, and finding a constructive Ideal Reader.

Writer’s block

Sometimes, creativity doesn’t come easily, and it’s hard to get into the flow. Writers call this “writer’s block.” But is this a problem of producing words, or of coming up with what happens next?
Some writers freeze up at that commitment because of fear or lack of confidence. Again, that sense all this hard work will only lead to harsh criticism.

“Writer’s block is a highly treatable condition,” wrote Dr. P. Huston, University of Ottawa Heart Institute. “A systematic approach can help to alleviate anxiety, build confidence, and give people the information they need to work productively.”

He wrote a whitepaper on how to treat writer’s block. The document was aimed at academic writers, but I think it’s readily applicable to fiction.

Basically, he says if there’s a mild blockage, establish realistic expectations, allow yourself to be imperfect (write a draft), sidestep whatever is blocking you, and optimize your writing conditions. If there is moderate blockage, imagine you are someone you admire writing, talk through your work with a sympathetic ear, write stream of consciousness to prime the pump, or take a break. And if the blockage is severe, consider cognitive or behavioral therapy or imposing a system of negative consequences (such as an app where you have to give money to a charity you hate if you miss a writing goal).

Parting words

“What an astonishing thing a book is,” said scientist Carl Sagan. “It’s a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles. But one glance at it and you’re inside the mind of another person, maybe someone dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, an author is speaking clearly and silently inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew each other, citizens of distant epochs. Books break the shackles of time. A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic.”

Thank you for joining me on this journey to uncover the scientific foundation for this magic, which I hope you found as inspiring as I did.

This Is Your Brain on Reading

by Leave a Comment

A number of years ago, a woman told me that one of my horror novels had made her cry. As a horror writer, I found this music to my ears.

Afterward, I started to think about what exactly had happened there. I typed up a bunch of words that popped into my head as complex ideas, they were printed as abstract symbols, her brain decoded them, and then she felt a visceral reaction.

We take this all for granted, but it’s pure magic.

But it also isn’t magic. Something happens between the writer and the reader.

What are the underlying mechanisms?

This started me on an exploratory journey—a meditation on what happens to our brains on reading and writing, and what insights we can glean from that.

In this first post, we tackle the reading brain.

Reading and the brain

At a basic level, reading involves decoding a string of abstract symbols and translating it into complex ideas. In reality, a whole lot more is going on.

Consider the sentence, “The baker had a kindly face.” Reading something basic like this, we are using the language processing parts of our brains. Notably Broca’s area, which enables production of speech, and Wernicke’s area, which enables comprehension.

Now consider this sentence: “The baker had an open jar of cinnamon under his nose.” A whole different brain area lights up—the primary olfactory cortex, which enables detection of odors. As if we were actually smelling it ourselves.

In a 2006 study conducted in Spain, researchers had subjects read words strongly associated with odors along with neutral words, and then conducted MRI scans of their brains. (These scans are very useful for neuroscientific research because they show relative blood flow in the brain. More blood means work is being done there.) The researchers found that when reading odor-associated words like “cinnamon” and “coffee” and “perfume,” the subjects’ primary olfactory cortex became stimulated.

Now read this: “The baker held the jar in his leathery hands.”

Our sensory cortex just engaged. This was discovered by research such as a 2012 study at Emory University, which found that sensory metaphors like “velvet voice” and “leathery hands” stimulated the sensory cortex—as if the readers were touching something themselves. Cliché figures of speech like “a rough day” and general descriptions like “a pleasing voice” did not.

It goes to show that evocative language awakens the reader’s senses, while clichés and non-evocative language does not.

Our story goes on: “Inspired by the baker, she jogged home and hammered out a first draft on her keyboard.” Reading this, of course, stimulates the motor cortex.

This was discovered in research such as a 2013 study at the Laboratory of Language Dynamics in France, which found the motor cortex became stimulated when subjects read a sentence describing a physical act, such as, “Pablo kicked the ball.” In fact, the brain activity was specific to parts of the cortex when motion was related to specific body parts.

So what does all this mean? The brain, it seems, does not make much of a distinction between reading about an experience and encountering it in real life. In each case, the same neurological regions are stimulated.

“The neural changes that we found associated with physical sensation and movement systems suggest that reading a novel can transport you into the body of the protagonists,” said Dr. Gregory Berns of Emory University. “We already knew that good stories can put you in someone else’s shoes in a figurative sense. Now we’re seeing that something may also be happening biologically.”

Theory of mind

Finally, read this: “After she was done writing, she looked around her empty house and felt alone and unloved. She knew what she had to do. She would…”
So, what does she do next?

Think about it.

Have an answer? Good. You just used a whole other part of your brain: the prefrontal cortex that enables cognition, personality, decisions, and social behavior; and the superior temporal sulcus, which enables multisensory processing. A whole lot is going on as networks in your brain used to navigate interactions with other people are put to work.

In 2011, Raymond Mar conducted a meta-analysis of 86 MRI studies and discovered a major overlap in the brain networks we use to understand stories and the networks we use to interact with other people. In particular, interactions where we try to figure out what other people are thinking and feeling. This ability to conceive a map of other people’s intentions is called “theory of mind.”
Stories exercise this ability as we identify with characters’ feelings, figure out their motives, and track their intentions. Because of this, reading is not only enjoyable but also biologically adaptive.

“Fiction narratives supply us with a mental catalog of the fatal conundrums we might face someday and the outcome of the strategies we could deploy in them,” wrote Harvard University’s Steven Pinker, author of How The Mind Works.

Besides this, there is evidence reading improves vocabulary, fosters empathy and emotional intelligence, is therapeutic, and changes minds. Combined with the experiences and wonder it offers, reading is simply one of the most enjoyable things humans can do.

Writing for readers

When I think about reading’s effect on the brain, I can’t help but recall one of my favorite quotes from Wonder Boys: “She read everything every spare moment. She was a junkie for the printed word. And lucky for me, I manufactured her drug of choice.”

How do we as writers stimulate the reader’s brain in just the right way? While the science of reading became far better understood just in the last one or two decades, interestingly, writers have known all along. In other words, the research reinforces the basic tenets of story.

Hook the reader’s attention by capitalizing on human interest in danger and surprise. Build a connection with the protagonist quickly to stimulate oxytocin, an empathy chemical in the brain. Challenge the protagonist with obstacles to achieving their goal. If your story has theme, connect the protagonist’s struggle and transformation to the broader world shared with the reader. Use language to produce as sensory and engaging an experience as possible. And take the time to learn craft until it’s internalized and becomes a toolset used as needed.

In a subsequent post, “This Is Your Brain on Writing,” we’ll take a look into the brain of the writer while they’re doing all this.