The Thin Red Line (Of Ink)

My Sword I brim with criticism.

I do. I always have. I’m the sparrow picking loose threads from your sweater. I’m the knocker goblin deep in the tunnel, tapping the wall and listening for hollow spaces. I am the writing on the wall, the whisper in the classroom.

…

No, wait, that’s Candyman. But the sparrow and the goblin, those are still me.

I turn my critical eye toward everything. I turn it toward books I’m reading, movies I’m watching, games I’m playing. I turn it towards people I know, and people I don’t know. A cloud floats across the sky, and I’ll compare and critique. “It’s not as nice as that other cloud. Could be fluffier. That cloud over there is more the Platonic ideal of clouds. This cloud here? I give it a C+, and that’s generous.”

This is not always the most pleasant way to live.

That being said, given my profession, it’s useful. (See, I’m writing this post to either falsely justify my critical eye, or to encourage you to be more critical in your day-to-day. I’ll leave it to you to decide how it ends up.)

It’s useful because, as a Person Who Creates Shit, standards are important. I see the way something plays out, some element of a pop culture property I’m digesting, and I say, “That could’ve been cooler.” By identifying how it could’ve been cooler, now I know not to fall into that trap. If I’m going to write a hostage scene or a love scene or a scene where a man is attacked by cannibalistic mailmen, I have a big bag of Don’ts I can upend on the table and pick through to make sure I’m trying to do something cooler than what has come before.

The downside, of course, is that it’s hard for me to simply bliss out and enjoy something. The filters do not fall away easily. The upside to this downside is that when I do finally realize that my filters are off and I’m simply absorbing Raw Awesome into my brainstream, I know that I’m digesting a very special experience, that the book (or film, or game, or show, or blog posting, or business card, or diner menu) is the cat’s knees and the bee’s pajamas. It has taken me over, which means it’s worth another look from the sunny side of the street.

My critical eye has evolved over time. For the better, I think. I’ve folded two — well, let’s just call them “subroutines — into my critical examinations of things.

One. Critical Dissection Means Sifting For Gold

You can’t always pan for lead. If all you look for is scrap and junk, all you’ll find is scrap and junk. Very few things in this world are All Good or All Bad. My brain used to be tuned more to find the All Bad. That sucks, this sucks, I hate this, this makes me angry, ooooh, vitriol.

But, in life and work, you have to somewhere start seeing the good alongside the bad, and taking in the positive lessons alongside the negative ones. Everything isn’t a caution sign on a slippery floor. If you’re a creator, you need to know how to see what doesn’t work about a property, but you also have to have positive elements to hold up to the light, too. “The dialogue is weak, but the pacing is strong. What makes the dialogue weak? How could I mimic this pacing, or improve upon it?”

It works outside of the creative process, too. Buying a house? Making friends or maintaining relationships? Going on vacation? You can’t just sit there, full of hate. You have to find the good stuff, too, so you know how to keep maximizing the positive. This might sound like settling. It is. It absolutely is. Life is about settling. Life is about compromise. (I always found it interesting that the word “compromise” has a two-faced connotation. On one hand, the act of compromise sounds good. On the other hand, being compromised or compromising yourself sounds shitty.)

Look for both the good and the bad. That is the road to self-improvement of your work and your life.

Two. A Duck Is Not A Dog; A Dog Is Not A Duck.

Criticisms must be reasonable. Standards and subjectivity remain firmly in play. This was another thing I had to learn, but maybe it came with a slow-simmering maturity, or maybe I fell down a set of steps and jarred some Jerk Molecule loose in my brain.

It is not meaningful to hold up a duck and criticize it for not being a dog.

You don’t hold up a McDonald’s hamburger and compare it with a meal at an expensive French bistro.

This doesn’t mean you have to like all things equally. You don’t have to give a shit about ducks. You don’t have to eat or enjoy McDonald’s hamburgers. I love ducks, both as a cute bird and as a delicious snack. I have a nostalgic thing for McDonald’s hamburgers, but I don’t like them, I don’t think they’re healthy, and I don’t eat them. I’m not speaking about preferences, I’m speaking about the act of critical thinking, about how you dissect something and what you do with its constituent parts.

Critical elements exist along lines, and it’s important to remain along those lines if you want apples to apples. In comparing overall qualities, I don’t know that I’d find much success in comparing Star Wars to In The Bedroom. If I did, I’d probably end up saying that Star Wars fails as an interpersonal relationship drama, and that In The Bedroom doesn’t have nearly enough X-Wings. You can say that. But what value did you get from it?

That being said, you can find threads to compare between disparate properties. You might compare Star Wars and The Magnificent Seven. Both are in different genres and come from different eras, but you could rock the compare-and-contrast along proper lines: both have Kurasawa as inspiration, so there you’ve found an apple to an apple (or a dog to a dog rather than a duck to a dog).

The point being, to be successful, you sometimes need to apply the critical thinking process to your critical thinking process.

Which Leads Us To Dan Brown

You knew we were going here, didn’t you? You had to. C’mon.

People really hate this guy. The bile reserved for him is almost staggering.

Why is that, exactly?

Well, on one hand, it’s sour grapes. He’s a huge success, he has an ass for a chin, how dare he, what an untalented prick, I secretly would murder my mother to have his money and his success.

From a critical thinking perspective, I think the problem is that most people aren’t willing to get past those two lessons I laid out above.

First, as regards his fiction, they pan for lead instead of gold.

And second, they hold up his work and compare it (a duck) unreasonably to other works (dogs).

Latter point first. Dan Brown has written a popcorn thriller. Do you read popcorn thrillers? Do you read Sidney Sheldon? Dean Koontz? Robert Ludlum? All popular authors with popular books. Please believe me when I tell you: some of the works by these authors are pretty clunky. The prose isn’t always graceful. Sometimes, it’s downright leaden. That’s par for the genre, though, for better or for worse. People tear down Dan Brown because his prose is inelegant? He’s not the first, and he’s not going to be the last, especially within his genre. This article gets nit-picky. Yeah, some of the examples remain surprising that they got past an editor (and knock Brown all you want — they got past the editor), and they’re worth raising a lofty eyebrow. Some of the examples, though, c’mon. They claim that this — “Physicist Leonardo Vetra smelled burning flesh, and he knew it was his own.” — is a formulaic opening sentence. I guess maybe. It’s also one that actually makes me want to read that chapter. For popular entertainment, for a a bubblegum thriller? That’s a great opener! Holy shit, a dude’s skin is cooking? And he knows it? Why? What the hell is going on here? I’m going to keep reading.

First point, last. Dan Brown has written some books that are now immensely popular. Does “popular” translate to “quality?” No. Hell no. But it does mean that within his work lies something, something that people respond to. Pan for gold. Find out what it is. That’s your job as a writer. Not necessarily to emulate, but to understand the craft, the business, the audience. What is Dan Brown doing right? It’s easy to say what he’s doing wrong. It’s even easier to mock him like an asshole. But the hard part — the part that will separate the craftsmen from the critics — is finding the gold nuggets within the scree and mud. It may not be his prose, but it’s some element of storytelling, some popular convention or escapist trend, some piece of the puzzle.

You don’t have to like his work. I’m not saying you do. I’m simply suggesting that Dan Brown is a good case for how to exercise your Best Practices when it comes to critical thinking.

Guy’s sold millions of copies of his books. It’s easy for you to think of those millions of people who bought and enjoyed his books as being idiots. If that’s comfortable for you, do so. Me, I’m not willing to write off millions of people — rather, millions of people who are my potential audience.

To quote J.C. Hutchins, a talented writer and one who seems to be an all-around cool dude, “Unapologetically digging the hell out of the new Dan Brown novel.” It’s also worth reading and enjoying Wood’s poem about this, “Dan and Me,” which is good stuff from start to finish.

Oh, and I thought the Da Vinci Code was all right. I didn’t hate it. Maybe I’m an idiot.

I’m an idiot that might buy the Lost Symbol, actually. He’s doing something right, and I’d better find out what it is.

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31 Responses to “The Thin Red Line (Of Ink)”

Stephen H. September 23rd, 2009 at 8:59 AM

I’ve been thinking about things like this recently. Like how much I love watching TV shows, and how I get very tired with people who think that, if it’s not art, it’s nothing.

I’m leaning heavily towards “eff them” as a response. I may not like Dan Brown’s work, but a lot of people do. An awful lot of people. Is it “literature” as such? Of course it is. Is it art? Who cares, aside from the critics and the pretentious? I get very tired of snobs who evoke “art” as an excuse not to have fun or enjoy themselves, but ultimately, it’s their loss.

Chuck September 23rd, 2009 at 9:02 AM

Definitely, Stephen. If someone really only enjoys art or literature at the highest level, I have no problem with that. None. Like what you like, and embrace it — and, if you’re a creator, create what you like.

My issue comes in with the poo-pooing of what *other* people like. As if somehow they’re brain-damaged for liking something. “Popular” doesn’t automatically equate to quality, but I should also add that it doesn’t automatically equate to “piece of shit,” either.

– c.

David Hill September 23rd, 2009 at 9:08 AM

What do you think about Brown’s misrepresentation of facts? I don’t think this is really a quality issue.

I think it’s really unfair to say you’ve done all this research, and to say that X, Y and Z are facts, are nonfiction, when they’re just plain not. Particularly when trying to hype your book. I think it was an unfair method of marketing The Blair Witch Project, too.

I couldn’t tell you if I had to how he’s different than other authors, why he’s sold so much for his genre. The thing is, as much as a person can look for gold in it, I’m not sure he’s responsible for it. Maybe I’m a cynic, I think it comes down to what his publishers have done to market the book. They gave away about a gajillion copies. For his new book, they’re selling it for less than we’re told it costs to print books. I can identify why Harry Potter sells so well. I just can’t say the same for Brown.

This isn’t my being critical, I just can’t pick it out. (Or maybe, for what it’s worth, I can find what’s great about other stuff, I just can’t find it in his work.)

Stephen H. September 23rd, 2009 at 9:14 AM

David, personally I think that he’s a fiction writer and can make up what he wants. However, if he is actually coming out and saying “yeah, this is actually real,” then he’s a liar, or has certain psychological issues because he’s really buying into the stuff.

I think Brown sells well because his stuff is ultimately accessible and written clearly enough for people to swim through the book. Wood’s excellent poem aside, that’s a good thing. I can’t really complain about an author who is selling books, because reading is a good thing.

Chuck, I completely agree with what you say about the judgmental attitude of others. It really annoys me, but mostly because those people don’t take the time to apply their critical skills to other things. Ignorance and intelligence are a frightening combination.

Chuck September 23rd, 2009 at 9:19 AM

David –

A few comments, here.

First, on the misrepresentation of facts. It’s fiction, and people reading that should recognize that. The words “Based on a true story” appear in front of thousands of television shows and films, but that doesn’t mean what you’re seeing is even *close* to a true story. Also, I don’t know how much of a misrepresentation it is. He based his work on a book that purports to be accurate non-fiction, which gives him the right to claim that. That being said, it’s a critical issue worth examining. That’s one of those critical concerns that merits thought. Still, obviously he thought he was accurate in some regard: his wife is an art historian, and researched his work thoroughly — whether she came up on the right side of accuracy or the wrong side is a legitimate debate. But it’s not the only debate regarding his work.

As to why he sells — it isn’t the marketing. If you think it’s just marketing, then you really do believe people are sheep. That’s also an easy and dismissive line of thought — “If something is successful, it’s clearly related to marketing.” Marketing is not without its effect, but are you suggesting that the company markets only his book, and never any other books? He had under 10,000 copies of his first few books go to print. His fourth went on to sell over 80 million. So… 80 million people were swayed by good marketing? Was I? I read the book. I heard about it through word-of-mouth. Am I a sucker for the publisher’s well-oiled marketing machine? This is outside the fact that many companies in the entertainment industry market the unmerciful shit out of lots of stuff, and it is a rare guarantor of success.

Have you read any of Dan Brown’s books?

– c.

Joseph Carriker September 23rd, 2009 at 9:31 AM

Moreover, Dan Brown’s claim to using some of the bits of information (we shan’t call them facts) as “real” comes from the fact that he lifted quite a bit of that material from a non-fiction book, “Holy Grail, Royal Blood.” That little fact is the sort of thing that marketing departments are really, really good at turning into spin.

Chuck September 23rd, 2009 at 9:33 AM

It’s Holy Blood, Holy Grail — I read that book years before Da Vinci Code, and you know what my first thought was, even then? “You could write a pretty cool story out of this.”

The authors of that sued him, and Brown won that case. It was non-fiction — it’s “lifting” material the same way that if I wrote a book about parasites, I might “lift” my research from Carl Zimmer’s Parasite Rex.

Which, by the way, is fucking awesome.

– c.

David Hill September 23rd, 2009 at 9:40 AM

Marketing isn’t responsible for all 80 million or whatever the number is. It’s not responsible for Harry Potter’s gajillion, either. It’s integral to both of those numbers. While as I mentioned, I can see why Harry Potter did so well, without phenomenal and constant marketing, it would have never even approached the numbers it has. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that books with television commercials before their release sell well.

It’s hardly an issue of people being sheep. People don’t know what to buy. In a bookstore flooded with thousands of titles, which do you pick? Many people, myself included, will often choose the one they’ve been made most familiar with. I make most purchases from word of mouth. People can’t tell me about stuff they don’t know about. They tend to know a lot about well-marketed things. This is often despite whether or not they know about them.

In fact, I’ve read a lot about The Lost Symbol. I know quite a bit about it, its plot, and its characters. I knew about this because of pre-release reviews. I wouldn’t know that much about a book that wasn’t marketed intensely. If someone asked me about it, I could tell them quite a bit about it. I haven’t read it, and yes, I’d preface it with that. But it doesn’t mean I couldn’t talk about it. Marketing is responsible for this.

On the topic of Brown’s honesty, I’m on the fence. I think it’s a form of false advertising. He’s openly stated that certain elements of his book are facts, when they’re not. This is less a “defend or don’t defend Dan Brown” thing, more a curiosity of mine. I figure, fiction is fiction. Don’t tell a person it’s not, unless it’s not.

David Hill September 23rd, 2009 at 9:42 AM

I haven’t read Parasite Rex. I keep wanting to. Blah, must be added to the queue.

I’ve never finished one of his books. I’ve tried with multiple. I couldn’t do it with either.

Chuck September 23rd, 2009 at 9:53 AM

David,

Zimmer’s work is exemplary.

But when you say “his work,” do you mean Zimmer, or Brown?

I can see some of why Brown’s work is successful.

It’s exciting.

It’s conspiratorial — appropriate for the times in which we live, where people on both sides of the political fence believe that More Is Going On than what people really know. In an era of political scandals and Catholic molestations, to see something sinister behind the scenes and throughout history has a scandalous, salacious edge.

It’s pulpy. People like pulp. (Which is odd that people don’t laud Brown on a pulpy, kitschy level. In 50 years, this will happen. The same people right now who love pulp fiction from bygone eras might be the ones who hate Brown’s work at present; that’ll change, eventually, I think.)

His plots have compelling elements (though elements that are handled with trademark inelegance; he really isn’t a very good prose writer).

I’m saying this –

Millions of people like his work.

That doesn’t mean his work is necessarily *good* — but it means that it must possess some good qualities, somewhere. If you’re unwilling to believe that as true, then you must take the approach that millions of people are essentially morons.

– c.

David Hill September 23rd, 2009 at 10:04 AM

I don’t think it doesn’t have good qualities. Of course it does. My question is, are those qualities *that* good?

I get the things you’re saying. I do. But I don’t see why he’s unique in them. I don’t see why he’s 80 million good, or why a great number of people think he’s literally the best author of the era.

There’s plenty of stuff that’s Kitschy Pulpy Good. I’d argue that there’s plenty of stuff that does that better. I’m not sure what’s superior about his work, if that makes sense. Is Brown’s work better than the alternative because it sells better? Or not even better. Are the positive aspects somehow more positive than with other authors’?

Chuck September 23rd, 2009 at 10:11 AM

Sales definitely do not reflect quality. No. Not at all. More people eat bad food than good food. It doesn’t mean that bad food is good; it only means that someone is doing something right with it, whether it’s in the marketing, or the sales plan, or the presentation, or even the taste.

It’s not that Dan Brown has more positive qualities than lesser-selling authors. Others may argue differently (though I suspect not given the level of disdain he gets). But it does mean he — and, yes, his publisher — did something right, and instead of mocking him and just giving him and his work the middle finger, it bears critical examination.

Eddy Webb September 23rd, 2009 at 10:12 AM

I don’t like The DaVinci Code. I read it when everyone loved it. I wanted to love it. But it was, to my mind, terribly written and horribly researched. It’s entirely possible that I was so caught up in the hype that I had unreasonable expectations, but the end result is that I hated the book, and I’m loathe to read anything else of his.

It’s since become popular to dig on Dan Brown, and I certainly join in, but I try not to present my antipathy as anything more than a personal loathing of his style of storytelling and his self-promotional techniques.

I suppose at some point I should sit down and try to dissect what I dislike about his work on a more objective level, but I think it would be hard to get past my crushing disappointment with the book.

That being said, it’s a terrible mistake to assume that just because I like your work that I must therefore like everything you like. I think some fans become very dogmatic and feel they must enjoy and defend their favorite writer’s reading preferences, which is unfortunate. Especially because I KNOW I read a lot of crap.

Just not Dan Brown’s crap.

MC Henley September 23rd, 2009 at 10:12 AM

I’d like to move the discussion to comedy for a second, b/c I think you’ve said it RE: Dan Brown. And for the record, I enjoyed Angels and Demons enough and then read Da Vinci and thought it wasn’t as good as A&D. That was about all the vitriol I had. I’ll probably pick up his new book too, sure.

Actually, to close that thought real quick: I am not the best editor, as you and Eddy well know. I have the grammar and structure of a stunned bullfrog. I don’t read as an editor. Not one of those sentences stopped me in mid-read to call the book or its writer bullshit. I did read it as a writer, and I found myself criticizing his formula, some of his structure and story logic. Even then I nodded and moved on. B/c it was engaging enough to. Really.

Anyway, yes, comedy.

Dane Cook. People loooooove to hate Dane Cook. B/c he’s popular and I guess people don’t think he deserves to be. He’s the Dan Brown of comedy. Same deal, I’m not sure why. He works a crowd, his routine is tight (and often new, he’s got a wealth of material), when his joke falters he pulls his act up and everyone with it. His crowd control and charisma are genius.

Now, critically, he just says stuff, and repeats it a couple funny ways. He says vagina or comes up with a cute euphemism for sex, and everyone laughs in a knee-jerk adolescent response. Then he pulls a prat fall or whatever. Much like myself at parties. He diminishes in a relisten b/c the shocks are gone, and the punch of repeating it again in a funny voice is lost.

None of which matters when he’s making you pee your pants, flying around stage and making fart noises with his mouth.

One of my favorite comedians of all time, Brian Regan, does the exact same thing. With less shock and he recycles his material far more often. Can you guess why he’s not so popular? But every comedian, and I mean everyone likes Brian Regan. Why? He’s not big enough to hate. Oh sure it’s couched in bullshit platitudes: he’s not a “college comedian;” ie. richer than you bitter pills.

You know who’s really sharp, works great on his heels and brings a nice shock to the stage? Greg Giraldo. I love Greg, but he’s about as popular as a gassy dog. B/c he doesn’t have that charisma, that energy, that ability to sway thousands despite being a genuinely better comedian apples to nuts.

*shrug* Life’s tough.

As I said last night on Twitter, criticizing the “masses” without trying to understand what’s so fun, or funny, only makes you the smartest asshole in the room.

Congratulations, you’re still an asshole.

–M

David Hill September 23rd, 2009 at 10:19 AM

Comedy is a rough comparison, the greats really set the bar high.

I’m not sure I know Dane Cook, but I could probably draw comparison to Dmitri Martin. That guy’s comedy annoys the crap out of me. Same with Sarah Silverman. I have no idea why they’re funny, and I’m most certainly an asshole for having that opinion.

Chuck September 23rd, 2009 at 10:24 AM

David — not liking their comedy isn’t an asshole move. I usually like both of their comedy, though Dmitri strikes me as a weaker version of Stephen Wright and Mitch Hedberg. If you were a comedian practicing your craft, I’d suggest you should try to figure out what makes them funny. You’re not, so you don’t like ‘em, you don’t like ‘em.

Part of the issue with Dane Cook and Dan Brown and all those torn-down idols is that people *hate them* deeply. They slag the shit out of them *personally.* It’s insane the level of piss and vinegar spit in the direction of these guys.

– c.

MC Henley September 23rd, 2009 at 10:29 AM

Eddy: Hype can be a killer for sure. I have a few of those stories in my arsenal. Donnie Darko is a big one, and actually, Reservoir Dogs is another.

A combination of reading as a writer and hype completely killed the Interview With a Vampire series for me. Maybe I missed my window, or maybe they’re really as awful as I think. But I don’t begrudge others for liking them (maybe Donnie Darko).

David: No, you’re not an asshole. I like both of those comedians, but both could certainly fall down with a little bit of criticism. Silverman is the height of “just say vagina when the crowd gets quiet” humor.

And Martin is a far better comedy writer than performer. Still, he’s literally a genius and being on stage showcases some of his odder talents (ambidexterity, musical ability, etc.) which he’s parsed into a career.

Although, I’m a little surprised you don’t like Dmitri if only b/c he’s a comedy scientist. That’s not just a bit for his show, that’s really how he takes things apart. Part of why he’s a better writer.

Still, part of the point I think, is that you’re not an asshole for liking or not liking something. You’re only an asshole if you press that on everyone else.

–M

David Hill September 23rd, 2009 at 10:33 AM

This is of course mostly the internet we’re talking about. On the internet, someone you don’t agree with is Literally Hitler.

I do agree though, personal attacks are usually uncalled for, unless of course the person presents the material as personal, or if it reflects a personal issue.

Chuck September 23rd, 2009 at 10:37 AM

I read the first Interview With a Vampire, and did not like it at all. I felt it very forbidding. That was in high school. My experiences might be different, now.

Donnie Darko, I like, mostly. But I couldn’t tell you what the fuck it’s about.

Reservoir Dogs is Tarantino’s tightest film by my estimation. It’s a neatly-wound ball of string.

Ultimately, everybody likes different shit. People often like stuff other people hate. The ultimate point is, critical thinking can’t just be about the negative. It has to highlight the positive, even if its in a clinical manner.

– c.

David Hill September 23rd, 2009 at 10:37 AM

Marty:

My sister is obsessed with Dmitri. I’ve watched some of his standup, I’ve listened to some material. I’ve tried watching his show. I just don’t get it. I do get that he’s multitalented and that’s awesome, he just doesn’t make me laugh. I certainly respect that he has some excellent skills, he’s just not selling them to me.

I was actually of similar opinion with Mitch Hedberg. I saw him live a few days before he died. I think reading his standup routines is actually more entertaining than listening to them. In fact, reading his material gave me a new respect for him.

Chuck September 23rd, 2009 at 10:39 AM

While I like Dmitri, actually, I don’t usually laugh, either. I have an intellectual appreciation for his jokes when I hear them — it’s like, “Ah! Yes. That was funny,” I say as I don’t laugh. I dunno.

Chuck September 23rd, 2009 at 10:42 AM

Of course, speaking of things WE ALL LIKE, might I point everybody towards THE HILARIOUSLY ENDLESSLY HILARIOUS Chapter 9: The Grassy Knoll, over at Shadowstories?

http://www.thestoryverse.com/go/2009/09/23/9-the-grassy-knoll/

ahem

*ducks, runs*

– c.

Wood September 23rd, 2009 at 10:48 AM

I think the one point you make that’s truly valid here is that Brown’s gibberish got past the editor. Which makes him an institutional problem.

The rest… I’ll keep schtum.

David Hill September 23rd, 2009 at 10:52 AM

Wood: So what you’re saying is we should launch a barrage of personal attacks at his editor? Brilliant.

;)

Chuck September 23rd, 2009 at 11:03 AM

Wood:

Well, I’m glad we got one valid point out of the nonsense I spew.

– c.

JNewman September 23rd, 2009 at 2:49 PM

I thought The Da Vinci Code was a poorly done speculative essay disguised as a novel. The background is what is interesting about the book and (by and large) he didn’t have anything to do with that. His characters were 2D cutouts that danced about in a pretty predictable pattern. The story was interesting, the way he wrote it was not. That probably explains why I liked the movie better than the book (not saying either are amazing, btw). I don’t hate him, I just don’t think he’s anything special.

Chuck September 24th, 2009 at 8:17 AM

John:

I actually think it’s more “poorly done novel with shades of a speculative essay,” and an essay that was already written by Leigh and Baigent, but, yeah.

I didn’t see the movie, so I can’t comment.

I don’t hate Dan Brown. I don’t have strong feelings toward him either way, as I’m not sure he’s really worth strong feelings.

He might not be special, but his books must contain some spark, some element of note. Unless 80 million people responded to some magical combination of herd hysteria and marketing voodoo?

– c.

TERRIBLEMINDS: Chuck Wendig, Freelance Penmonkey » Blog Archive » The Democrats Need Better Cheerleaders September 27th, 2009 at 8:50 AM

[...] not suggesting that we shouldn’t be critical. But I am suggesting that you go back and read my earlier thoughts about how to be critical. Don’t just pan for lead. Don’t just get your hate on. [...]

heather September 27th, 2009 at 1:13 PM

I have found a weird balance in the tendency to be critical and the desire to be able to simply bliss out. This is, I’m critical with respect to the written word, but I’m blissfully blind when it comes to most TV & movie content. I have done my best to not cure myself of this set of circumstances, as I think it gives me a nice middle ground to enjoy.

Chuck September 28th, 2009 at 6:29 AM

Heather:

Unfortunately, given that my interests (professionally) wander over into film and TV territory, I am unable to easily bliss out.

But I want to.
:)

– c.

TERRIBLEMINDS: Chuck Wendig, Freelance Penmonkey » Blog Archive » Please To Meet Death, The Thief Of Conflict December 15th, 2009 at 12:06 AM

[...] I think as a creative person (read: self-important jack-ape) it’s important to know how to think critically about other creative properties, and so I turn my scrutiny toward just about anything that passes [...]

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