by Jason Fischer | Oct 31, 2013 | Meaningful Post, Uncategorized
I made a throwaway comment on social media the other day, how I believed that all zombie fiction is essentially the Apollonian and Dionysian dichotomy writ large. Having pondered on the idea for a day or two, I thought it worth expanding upon.
“The Apollonian is based on individuality, and the human form which is used to represent the individual and make one being distinct from all the others. It celebrates human creativity through reason and logical thinking. By contrast, the Dionysian is based on chaos and appeals to the emotions and instincts. Rather than being individual, the barriers on individuality are broken down and beings submerge themselves in one whole.”
(from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apollonian)
Now, if that doesn’t sum up the rugged individuals resisting the mindless zombie hordes, I don’t know what does. Broken down to its purest theme, the modern zombie narrative tells us about the struggle of the Apollonian holdouts, maintaining reason and logic against the overwhelming default state of chaos.
Throughout western literature, this idea has been used over and over, by everyone from Nietzsche to Stephen King. As far as the Greeks themselves are concerned, this dichotomy is probably a carry over from earlier Egyptian mythology (which is all about Order resisting Chaos) and seems to be a story as old as recorded history.
In George Romero’s excellent movie Land of the Dead, we see the complete destruction of one man’s Apollonian order, and as the dust settles, an uneasy accomodation between these two philosophies (the survivors of Fiddler’s Green and the evolving zombies). It should be noted that “the Greeks did not consider the two gods to be opposites or rivals, although often the two deities were interlacing by nature.”
In my favourite moment of this movie, the turncoat human Cholo DeMora (played by John Leguizamo) cops an infected bite. He is from that moment on doomed to turn into a zombie, and walk the earth in undeath. Even as his companion offers to end his life (and spare him from this fate) Cholo stops him.
Foxy: [Cholo is bitten by a zombie and Foxy hold a gun aimed at him] It’s your call man.
Cholo: [hesitates then shakes his head no] Nah, I always wanted to see how the other half lives.
And just like that, we realise that Cholo was a Dionysian figure all along. Rebuffed earlier by his employer, this character opens the floodgates to chaos, turning against his own kind, and dooming Fiddler’s Green. Stealing the ultimate weapon, he is ostensibly holding this gated community to ransom for what is effectively useless currency – there is nothing left to the United States but barter economies, walled enclaves in a new Dark Ages. This always bugged me about this movie, but I finally understand that it was never about the money for Cholo. This is the story of an Apollonian figure rejecting his Dionysian counterpart, who then behaves true to form.
Finally, I’d like to really draw a long bow, and talk about the Maenads. These were the female followers of Dionysius, known for madness and chaos, for drunken revelries in the wilderness. In every story they are mindless, wild, individual creatures broken down and remade as agents of chaos – a mad group, never individuals from that point.
It’s almost incidental that they throw the equivalent of wild parties, with drinking, mad dancing and crazy music. Discount these facts, and everything else points to the ancient Greeks inventing the modern zombie some 2000 years before Romero thought of it.
“Rather than being individual, the barriers on individuality are broken down and beings submerge themselves in one whole.”
In the maenads, we have women who reject their role, murdering their own children, turning from civilisation. Anytime they encounter man or beast, they attack it in a frenzy, tearing it limb from limb. Whenever they eat flesh, it’s not for sustenance, but in an attempt to consume the divine, to rise above their earthly forms. Much like the zombies, they aren’t eating to survive. It’s a communion, a frenzy that exists beyond the normal actions of life.
“Ack. I should have aimed all my javelins for the head.”
“The goal was to achieve a state of enthusiasm in which the celebrants’ souls were temporarily freed from their earthly bodies and were able to commune with Bacchus/Dionysus and gain a glimpse of and a preparation for what they would someday experience in eternity. The rite climaxed in a performance of frenzied feats of strength and madness, such as uprooting trees, tearing a bull (the symbol of Dionysus) apart with their bare hands, an act called sparagmos, and eating its flesh raw, an act called omophagia. This latter rite was a sacrament akin to communion in which the participants assumed the strength and character of the god by symbolically eating the raw flesh and drinking the blood of his symbolic incarnation. Having symbolically eaten his body and drunk his blood, the celebrants became possessed by Dionysus.”
(from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maenad)
So, in summary, whenever we tell a zombie story, we’re reverting to a very old mythology. If we do it properly, we’re exploring the Apollonian-Dionysian dichotomy each and every time.
by Jason Fischer | Oct 18, 2013 | Meaningful Post
Oh boy, we live in exciting times! While I’ve admittedly spent the last few days playing Silent Hill: Downpour, the rest of the time has been flat out. Between hanging out with my awesome family, studying clinical coding and working in an interesting and challenging job, I every now and then (with the firm and wise encouragement of the good Mrs Fisch) get into the study and Get Those Words Down.
I count myself blessed that I get to do this writing thing that I enjoy. It’s a wonderful feeling, sitting down and casting out one’s mind, playing make-believe for hours on end. Even better when you come out of it at the other end, a little bit dazed and in need of a cuppa, with a whole new slab of story to share with other people.
I’m at the part of my career where I’ve always got something on the go, and where I often have to be somewhat cryptic about what I’m working on. Nascent works are delicate things, and if they are commissioned pieces they usually have an embargo attached to them. Also, it’s kind of a jinx thing, as even self-propelled works can mutate and change mid-stream, and then I look back at these blog-posts and feel daft.
Anyway, here’s the current state of play at Fisch Industries:
Currently working on:
- Military Science Fiction novel (collab)
- Cthulhu short story
- Tie-in novella
- Collaboration short story
And here’s the rest of my dance-card, which makes the next 12-18 months pretty flat out:
- YA book (working title “Bossfight”)
- YA book (working title “Ripley Quarterquick”)
- Sequel to Quiver, working title “Hard Nock Life”
- Various short stories (about 6 different ideas, just for me!)
- The Severed Garden (crazy fix-up novel based around my existing Raoul the Minotaur stories, and some new material. Think lots of marginalia, weird plates, poetry, surreal interstitial and transmedia stuff. Dream project that will take as long as it takes)
- Cabalista – self-pubbed flash-fiction antho I want to get off the ground. Will try my hand at illustration, though it will probably involve fummetti and Photoshop 🙂
And everyday, this list of stuff fricken GROWS. I need to win lotto just to get on top of this to-do list 🙂
by Jason Fischer | Aug 20, 2013 | Meaningful Post, Uncategorized
It is so easy to get distracted by the shiny things.
Some of us are born wired with the unique blend of creativity and discipline needed to become successful professional writers. Others of us frolic in the irresponsible Fields of Creativity, only turfing words over the fence when we can be bothered*. It’s essential to learn to focus, and if you don’t have a work ethic you will fall by the wayside.
Since I’ve been writing, I’ve had about a thousand false starts. I’ve largely based my career on instinct and opportunity, with little long-term planning apart from “I’m a gonna write this and send it here and then write the other thing and SUCCESS.”
While you get a lucky break from time to time, bouncing around like a happy puppy is a really shitty way to plan a creative career. While my brain has coughed out some fun stuff and I’ve achieved a few things, gunning for that sugar-high success is the falsest of all metrics. And boy, how I have learnt this the hard way.
Most anyone who is successful does one thing, and does it very well. Dilettantes tend to frolic around in that fun meadow doing leapfrogs and blowing bubbles. Bless their cotton socks, but they will end up doing fuck all of anything beyond the ephemeral and shiny.
In short, pick a horse and ride it. In some ways I’ve won this battle – moving away from short stories, my new default is longer form work. I find it exceedingly difficult to write anything under 8000 words, which tells me that my writing brain’s new default setting is chapter sized chunks.
Now, instead of shiny-hopping stories across the lilypond of short fiction markets, I’m planning 2, 3 novels into the future at any given time. Long term projects are the norm. Genres have been selected, and a market plan is in effect. Age and bitter experience will beat this long-term thinking into any wide-eyed newb, it’s just taken a few years in my instance.
Still, it’s been fun. I’ll be over here saddling up.
* For some reason, this makes me thing of Napoleon Dynamite feeding Tina the Alpaca. “TINA, EAT YOUR STUPID HAM.”
by Jason Fischer | Jul 21, 2013 | Meaningful Post
Writing is a funny old thing. Like any creative field, you are working with something that’s initially intangible. You’re out there, flailing your arms in space, the flywheels of your brain spinning to the point of breaking. Then, when you’ve gone all God and Muse and Ego on your blank canvas/page/block of marble, you have to pack that star-gazing idiot away, and bring out someone else. The scowling pessimist who knows Just How Crap This Is, and spends probably just as much time slapping the crap out of the Art until it resembles something that can be unleashed upon the public.
So, once you’ve engaged in this pseudo-schizophrenia and come up with the Art, you have to get it to those who might enjoy it. As an author, this means I sometimes have to emerge from the garret and do some booksignings.
Would you buy a book from this man?
Since the release of my first novel Quiver, getting in on the publicity side of writing has been a baptism of fire. During my career as a short story writer, I’ve done some group booksignings, panels and appearances, accepted some awards and all sorts of cool stuff. But all of those times, I got to hide behind a group of other authors. Now, I’m standing on my own.
Like many of my peers, writing started off as my outlet. I was very shy, very anxious, and the thought of talking in front of people or (god forbid) selling them my book in a bookshop would test my intestinal fortitude and find me wanting. It seems the opposite of being locked in the garret, but today it is oh so necessary. If you can’t do these public outings, you’re just going to have to gird up and fake your way through it, bucko. Chances are, you’ll actually enjoy yourself!
What I’ve learned at book signings:
- Don’t sit behind your table. It’s a great place to stash your books, pens, business cards and a bottle of water (hide this behind/under the desk). But the artificial barrier of the table will drive people away. Stand by the table, wander around in its vicinity. Only use the seat when you want a quick break.
- Pack a sharpie – especially if you’re left-handed. Won’t smear on the page.
- Go up to people, but don’t be a dickhead about it. If you’re in a bookstore, people are already there looking for a book. Give them an opportunity to buy yours. But if they aren’t interested, that’s cool. Some will want to be left alone, so smile and leave them to it. Others will still be happy to stop and have a natter. Bonus points if you direct them to someone else’s book, or even just have a chinwag about something else. You’ll meet some great folks who also like to read, which to me is an instant conversation starter. Some of the best interactions I’ve had at a book signing never involve a sale!
- Keep it interesting. My genius publisher Baden Kirgan came up with bookmarks for Quiver, complete with luscious artwork, nice stock, and all the relevant information on the reverse. Posters too, which the kids seem to love. Hand out bookmarks to anyone who comes close (if you’re in a bookshop, 90% chance they’ll take one). Those who stop to chat, tell them about your book.
- Have a few pitches worked out. Figure out who you’re talking to, and tailor your pitch accordingly. Going by Duncan Lay’s advice, I have separate pitches worked out for a teenage reader, for an adult female, adult male, and parent/family groups. Depending on what they tell you, refine the angle that you’re going for. Once you’ve got this bit worked out, you’ll move plenty of copies.
- ABC = Always be Closing. Without being too much of a used-car salesman, bring the person around to the topic of buying your book as soon as you reasonably can. If you give them too long to think about it, their chances of walking increase. Offer to sign it, and if they’re on the fence that will often get them interested in a Shiny New Author 🙂
- Having said that, don’t be a desperado. If they’re not going to buy it, just let it go. Change the topic, and wish them a good day if they’re sick of talking to you.
- Speaking of signing, always check the spelling of the person’s name!
- Give the person your undivided attention. They are your potential readers, and are the most important people in your universe. Plus, it’s just polite. Don’t be arrogant. Put your phone away, preferably on silent. Check it only when things are quiet.
- Have a few different phrases to write above your signature, preferably related to the book. If the reader becomes a fan, and has 18 instances of “best wishes!” on their shelf, you’ve kinda let them down.
- Don’t use your credit card signature!!! Duh.
- Be super nice to the staff at the bookstore. They are the secret lifeblood of publishing success! Plus, they often go to great lengths to put these signings on, so be as accommodating as humanly possible. Go the extra mile. Quite often they like review copies, which helps when they’re handselling books. Give them a reason to recommend you to readers!
That’s all I can think of for now. These signings are great fun, and I hope to do many more! Brave new world and all that 🙂
by Jason Fischer | Feb 20, 2013 | Funny/WTF?, Meaningful Post, Pimping, Uncategorized, Writing
Some of you might remember last year when I introduced you to Drusilla, the Ditmar Diprotodon. This time-travelling spokesmammal of Australian SF has apparently remained in our time-stream, mostly for the fiction. Rumours of the secret megafauna invasion are still largely exaggerated and (for now) she is an ambassador of literature and peace. Today, she joins me on the Fisch-blog to talk about all things Ditmar.
JF: Hi Drusilla the Ditmar Diprotodon, thanks for stopping by.
DDD: My pleasure, Jason. Thanks for the huge bushel of vegetation.
JF: I’d do the same for any of my guests. Now, my sources tell me that you’re a passionate advocate of the Ditmar Awards.
DDD: Indeed. I think it’s wonderful to reward creative minds. We had a similar popular-vote award back in the Pleistocene Epoch, “The Mammal’s Choice Award”. Though our categories were more along the lines of Best Survivor, Species Viability, Most Effective Predator and the like. We still had a Fan Art category though.
JF: Megafauna are nothing if not organised. So, Drusilla, do you know who you are nominating in this year’s Ditmar Awards?
DDD: Oh yes! I’ve perused the 2013 Ditmar Eligibility List and cobbled together a list of my favourite books, novellas, short stories and even some reviews and podcasts that I got into last year. The beauty of the Ditmar is that I can nominate as many things in as many categories as I like. You don’t dilute or divide your nomination by doing so.
JF: So, if you were a creative type nominating your own work (which is okay to do) it doesn’t hurt you at all to list other works in the same category?
DDD: Indeed. You’re a mug if you don’t. I think that this mechanism effectively neutralises any self-touting – by the time the self-nominations are tallied up, the real results would come from the additional “I also liked this stuff” nominations.
JF: So, you’re saying the system works?
DDD: I know the Ditmars are not without their own controversies. Nary a year goes by without some sort of battle royale about the results, accusations of bloc voting, all of that drama. It reminds me in many ways of the “Mammal’s Choice Award” of 50,000 BCE. Brutor the Marsupial Lion was accused by many of rigging the vote for Most Effective Predator, but it turned out he really was the Most Effective Predator, as numerous corpses attested to.
JF: So do you think there was bloc voting, both now and then?
DDD: Probably. But that’s the law of the savana. No doubt many of Brutor’s relatives put their paws to the ballot, but it was probably a statistical blip when compared to the other terrified votes. At least the result was accurate! The Ditmar nomination process resembles a circus of touting and enormous lists of eligible works, but I think it’s a necessary process. After the initial flurry of activity, the overall numbers would float to the surface, and then the most representative value appears on that final ballot paper.
JF: I heard mention that you were frustrated by one of the rules?
DDD: Yes. As a fan, I was stymied by rule 4.1 “Nominations will be accepted only from natural persons active in fandom”. Stupid homo sapiens, of course you try to keep the fun all to yourselves. But ultimately I got around it by signing up to each Natcon, and I quote “or from full or supporting members of the national convention of the year of the award.”
JF: That’s clever.
DDD: [munching sounds]
JF: We need another wheelbarrow of lettuce in here.
by Jason Fischer | Jan 30, 2013 | Meaningful Post
It’s bloody great fun to fall down the rabbit hole of research. One of my favourite parts of writing is the conception stage, where you get to play fast and loose in the land of what-if. You know, collect shiny things, see how they fit together, woolgather and generally daydream about a topic.
When I was a little boy, I used to love poring through all sorts of books, encylopedias, whatever was lying around. I remember jumping from factoid to factoid, and used to love learning little bits of everything. Outside of pub trivia and writing, this sort of scatter-brain learning doesn’t have much practical use. Luckily I’ve parked my bum behind a keyboard once or twice (and pub trivia’d with the best of them).
And even now, one of my happiest joys is to faff around on Wikipedia or similar, rolling around in knowledge like a dog in poop. It’s almost like a game that I play with my own mind, where everything in a made-up scenario has to comply with its own logic. When I was writing the zombie novellas for Black House Comic’s After the World series (that have been repurposed into my novel Quiver, which is on sale here – wow, see what I did there!) I was a research NERD. I’m serious, I think I’ve learnt more about England, southeastern USA, the US military, Cuba, golf-carts, the English correctional system and about 1000 other things than I ever needed to know. In one instance, I needed to know where one of the characters lived in Gravesend, Kent. To get this information, I had to look up teacher salaries, and real estate, and figure out roughly what sort of house this man could realistically afford, and what would be a nice area to raise a family. This was all to get a street name, which I used ONCE.
This is an essential part of my what-if process – grab many disparate elements, find a way they fit together, and follow that thought for as far as it can go. Before you know it, you’ve got yourself a story sunshine 🙂
Of course there’s more to writing than just the outlining/conception phase, but by Jove’s bearded toothbrush, that’s the most fun bit for me.
