Reaching Your Audience: Culture and Media

A lofty goal for any writer is finding and reaching your audience. As writers, we start out with a great idea, nurture it and grow it until it sprouts. Once it attains full growth we release into the world much like the seeds of a dandylion. Some stories reach across cultural boundaries and some fall short.

A good example of stories reaching beyond cultural boundaries are the Lord of the Rings trilogy. When JRR Tolken sat down and penned those stories, he was writing for a British audience. Over the past 75 years or so, those stories have been adopted by audiences worldwide. Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies have also crossed those barriers and gathered a worldwide audience.

An over night explosion was the Harry Potter series, regardless of where you stand with it’s author. Children and adults the world over were sucked into those books. Book stores couldn’t keep them in stock when they were first released. Midnight openings with thousands of eager readers flocked to bookstores to get their shiny new copy of the latest book. I came much later to the series, and I have read them all. My personal favorite is Book 3, but that is a tale for anthor post.

An example of a story that should have crossed barriers was the Keanu Reeves film, 47 Ronin. On the surface this movie had everything and then some so why did it fail? Because the western audience it was intended for didn’t understand the Japanese culture it came from. I was one of those folks. I was wholly into the movie until the ending, and it killed the whole movie for me.

The Associated Press did an interview with the director before the movie was released and he expected the movie to do great things.

Rinsch said he took on the film subject and sat down with Keanu Reeves about two years ago. They wondered how they were going to take on a popular Japanese tale and do it justice. Rinsch said they decided to make the story their own, making “it a Hollywood blockbuster and see it through that lens.”
“These themes of revenge, loyalty, perseverance, were things we knew from the very beginning were universal,” said Rinsch. – Yuriko Nagano, Associated Press, Nov. 18, 2013

While the themes are universal, the presentation was very much Japanese. And it takes an understanding of that culture and it’s history for the ending to make sense. My husband, who is very much into anime, Japanese culture and grew up watching the samurai movies of the ’80s, wound explaining the way of honor and why it had to end the way it did.

As I was researching for this post, I found this is actually loosely based on historical events. I read some of the Wikipedia article and I may do a deeper dive just to satisfy my curiosity.

Movie poster for 47 Ronin

Story Idea

It was a dark and stormy night…”

“Haven’t we heard this story before?” Richie asked.

“Dad, come on that is so cliche.” Connor made a face.

“Mom! Dad is trying to be a weatherman again.” Duncan yelled.

“Listen to your father boys. He is trying out a new story idea.”

“Where was I?” Dad clears his throat. “It was a dark and stormy night. Conan threw the tent flap open and…”

“Wait. Are we talking the Conan? Like The Cimmerian Conan? Or TV dude Conan?” Connor asked.

“What? Yes the real Conan. Why would TV guy be in one of my stories?”

“I think you should Dad. Conan vs Conan.” Duncan giggled.

“Honey, where did we put the boys? These are heathens. And critics. No respect at all for the arts.”

“Oh dear. Did we not get the right ones? I told you we should have picked the other three.”

“Mom!” Connor, Duncan and Richie chorused. “We are your sons.”

Dad clapped his hands. “Back to the story. Conan stepped out of the weather. His advisor handed him a towel…”

“Remember to keep the naughty bits out. Your audience is still in the PG category.” Mom called out. “Just in case you forgot who was listening.”

“Aww Mom. Those are the best parts. Don’t listen to her Dad. Fellows gotta stick together.”

“Boys this is a learning moment. Moms are always right,” he leaned close and whispered “until they’re not.”

“I heard that dear.”

This is an ill omen for the battle tomorrow. Slogging through mud gets men killed”. His advisor said.

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Bad weather drives man and beast inside. Guards are down. Bad weather is the thief’s friend.” Conan muttered to himself thinking.

What are you thinking old friend?”

A small force sneaking into the camp and causing chaos. Perhaps if they’re lucky they’ll get the one in charge. Men won’t go into battle without a leader.”

Who will you pick? We can’t afford to lose you. So you must pick someone to lead this merry band of lunatics.”

“Hurry up Dad. Get to the good parts.” The boys chorused.

“Dear you had best pick up the pace. Your audience is getting restless.” She peaked into the bedroom. She hid a smile, the boys were scattered around the bed surrounding him. Even the dog was listening intently.

“Fine. Fine. Screaming trailed through Conan’s camp. “What is all this ruckus?” Conan roared. The camp fell silent. The wet bedraggled woman landed at his feet. His men were bleeding and panting with the effort. She growled at him. He looked at her.

Who is this? Looking at her curiously, he noted the bruises and cuts on his men. The woman didn’t look to have been misused or abused. Her clothes were muddied and soaked, but she was otherwise unharmed. He frowned at her. Had one woman gotten the better of his men?

“Who is she Dad?”

“What happened to taking out the bad guys’ leader?”

“How come she beat up the good guys?”

“All in good time boys, all in good time. It takes time to build a story. And not everything is as it seems.”

“Mom! Dad is talking in cliches again. Make him stop and just tell us who she is.” The boys pouted.

“Now, now my loves. Sometimes storytellers have to take a moment and regroup. Is that right dear?” She stepped into the room and lightly massaged his shoulders. A quick peck on top of his head and she left the room.

He watched her leave. Clearing his thoughts he said let’s get back in the story.

Neil Gaiman: Inspiration

For anyone out there that has ever doubted themselves that they can’t do this. This is your wake up call. Even during the horror of World War II, stories kept people sane, kept them together. Always remember the story you are writing, someone somewhere needs those words. So keep going, you can do it. And your fans that you haven’t met yet will thank you.

Cheers, james

Story Idea/Writing Practice

Hi you’ve reached Chantrelle Casey. I am loving life and can’t take your call. Just text me and I’ll text you later. Bye.

“Shanti please pick up. I have texted, called and nobody has heard from you. I am seriously worried about you. Call me. ASAP. I mean it”

“I don’t understand that girl. She is spoiled and you have to work so hard.”

“Mom, Shanti is good people. So what if her folks are loaded. She is basically alone and doesn’t have anyone. Her parents are never home and when they are, it is always a fight. She doesn’t have a wonderful loving mom like I do and that is priceless. Pretty sure she would rather be in our family than hers.”

Her mother snorted, “If you say so. Besides who names their child after a mushroom?”

“It was a phase her dad went through. He wanted to grow truffles and stuff. So he named her and her mom was ok with it being french sounding. I don’t know. They both were probably drunk or high.”

*****

The voicemail message finished playing. “Who is that? She sounds so concerned for you. A spoiled little rich girl shouldn’t have friends that really care. They should be fake, only concerned with what you can give them. Isn’t that right my dear?”

Shanti froze against the gag. She flinched when he came towards her. Eyes closed she couldn’t bear seeing his face. The mask was grotesque, at least she thought it was a mask. The pressure against her mouth dropped as he pulled the gag out. Her mouth was so dry, if only she could ask for some water.  Her voice croaked and came out whisper soft.

“She’s a nobody.  Some chick that went to the same school as me.  I used her to do my homework and stuff.” She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice.

“Maybe I should go meet this nobody that is so concerned.” The mask distorted his voice. He watched her.

“Can I go home? Will you trade me for her?” Hope glimmered in her eyes. “I know where she lives. Her mom lives there too. Please let me go.”

He cinched the gag tight. She whimpered. “I have enjoyed our time together. I will have to think about it.”

*****

All It Takes? Really

Well I guess my writing block has been me all along. I picked this blog back up on July 4th and I have written more this last week than I have in two years.

Maybe I just needed a schedule and a deadline to be accountable too. So far I have written three posts, four if you count this one, and two story ideas/writing practice. Plus uploading the Quote of the day images. I try to get my posts written in the first week and then schedule them to be posted all during the month. And that may have been one of the problems. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

I guess I needed the break to get my head straight. And by then I was out of practice and it seemed so hard to write a post or story idea or poem or anything. That I kept avoiding it. So yeah, it feels good having creative juices flowing again. Hopefully it will lead somewhere productive.

What are you writing or reading or doing? Drop me a line and let know what you think. Cheers, james

Motorcycles & New Perspectives

2010 Yamaha V Star, a new perspective on travel and life

Mr. Ben Franklin famously said “Write something worth reading. Or do something worth writing.” 

Since I have been stuck in a rut both mentally and writing, I decided to change my perspective. They say riding on two wheels give you a whole new way of seeing the world around you. The safety of the vehicle is no longer there, and yet you are more connected to the scenery and elements.

At 40 years old and having never been on a motorcycle or scooter before, I bought one. I have drooled over various bikes throughout the years but never had the opportunity to try. I consulted with my grandfathers and my dad. All three felt it was an extremely good way to become a road pancake. And valuing their opinions, I let it go. I figured the notion would pass and yet it was a faint whisper in the back of my mind.

Fast forward 23 years give or take a couple and I fell in love with an electric blue scooter trike. While researching the scooter, it occurred to me why not go for a motorcycle. The only basic difference in a motorcycle and a scooter is the scooter has the motor in the back under the seat. They are also automatic. Most motorcycles are a manual transmission (they have a clutch) but some are starting to have an automatic transmission. The scooter’s price point was out of range and the motor wasn’t big enough to suit me. I want something that can handle traffic speeds.

So I started looking through the classified ads and found my beautiful motorcycle. She is a Yamaha V Star 650, which means she has the giddy up and go to run with traffic. And she is big enough that rides are pretty comfortable. I just have to watch my leg on the exhaust. Ouch. Hot, hot, hot. I feel I have plenty of growing room and lots of adventures to go on before I may decide on something bigger. Probably not though. She handles well and feels great.

I am hoping by learning to ride and getting out and traveling places. It will spark off my creative process and I will dive back into my writing. I am getting older and the feeling of “if not now, when” on both writing and riding.

Have a great week. Cheers, james

Summer Storm

As I write it is past my bedtime just after midnight. A storm is grumbling outside and has been for the last several hours. One dog is huddled under the blankets in a tight ball of nerves. Poor baby. She doesn’t handle any loud noises well. The other is sprawled across the foot snoring away, completely oblivious to anything.

It strikes me that sometimes I love watching and listening to a thunderstorm. And sometimes it triggers a fearful reaction. So far I never can tell which reaction I will have. The further away it sounds, the more interested in listening to it I am. The closer or if the light strikes are over top of me, the more inclined I am to want to hide.

As a small child, my mom said I was terrified of storms. So they would turn the lights out and light candles. That way I wouldn’t freak out if the power went out. And back in those day, the power would go with the smallest breath of wind. Things are a lot better now. The power companies trim the trees back away from the power lines. If the power goes out now; there has either been a pretty significant weather event or something happened to a transformer or line.

I seem to have lost track of where this post was supposed to be going. Probably because it is past my bedtime and the barometric pressure plays havoc with my head.

I probably intended to write something about the force of nature and how it effects the characters and events in your story. And yet sometimes it is overlooked and nothing happens. In Tolkien’s The Hobbit, when the trolls where arguing about how to cook the dwarves and the dawn catches them turning them to stone. That could have been the end of the story if he hadn’t used the force of nature and given the trolls a weakness to sunlight.

Another thing a writer should think about is how weather and the force of nature effects the characters. Do they fear tight cramped spaces? Thunderstorms? Rushing water? Heights? Rivers? Mountains? What reaction would they have to encountering these hardships? Those are questions to keep in mind as you write.

Cheers and good night or good morning depending on where you are in the world. james

Happy 4th of July 2022

Greetings, salutations and other slimy things. I wish you a safe and happy 4th of July. Or if you are in a part of the world other than the United States, happy Monday or Tuesday as the timeline may allow.

My dear friends, readers and those passing through, I am sorry. I fell off the edge of the world and didn’t say anything to you. When last I wrote, I was so excited that a new chapter was turning in my life. It did and then I stopped writing, I stopped pretty much everything except work and home.

WordPress notified me it has been 8 years this March. And yet I hadn’t even looked at this blog in almost a year. I started writing in March 2014 to help me get back into writing after moving in as caretaker for my uncle. He is absolutely living it up in his assisted living facility. Thank you for asking.

After I changed jobs, I thought I would have more time to devote to my writing and this blog. I was also excited about starting a blog for job. I never got that one off the ground and I couldn’t figure out what to write about for this one. And time just sort of slipped away. Funny how that happens.

So I am going to try to get back in gear. Posting book reviews, short stories, quote of the day and rambling thoughts like this one. Be well my friends.

Cheers, james