21st Century Brontë #33: The Money Problem, Part 3

04 Wednesday Apr 2018

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte

21st Century Brontë #33 by Brontë Bettencourt

The Money Problem, Part 3

In 2017 I worked three separate jobs. I wondered why I chose Creative Writing as my major. I told myself, “Misery is excellent writing-fodder. Pay attention and learn.”

In a previous post I talked about leaving the security of a corporate job since it was too stressful. Three employees (myself included) shared a small office, spending hours staring at a screen. Already writing is a solitary practice; I couldn’t handle all those hours to myself with the outside world taunting me through the window.

I returned to food service, back on my feet, handling hundreds of customers and leaving the stress of the job whenever I clocked out for the day.

I had been at the Huey Magoo’s at the University of Central Florida, located in the high-traffic Student Union food court, making just enough to get by. The allure of a low-maintenance job to focus on my writing wore off. I had more time to write with a low wage, dead-end job. It was difficult to write with bills to pay and mounting grad school expenses.

I worked about a year and one week before the health department shut us down.

A lot of long-range thinking occurs when there isn’t a form of income: what the hell can a creative writer do in the workforce?

Can I be a writer if managing fast food is how I spend most of my time?

Why haven’t I written a book yet?

Are my mom and grandpa proud of me when they’re not entirely sure of what I do?

In writing, I have some control over the narrative’s outcome. If there is suffering, there can also be triumph. In real life, there is no cause and effect relationship that can be guaranteed. My life is still a work in progress that can’t be edited when it’s finished. Not by me, anyway.

In February of 2017, I was hired to work as a busser at Toothsome Chocolate Emporium at Universal Studio’s Citywalk.

In this steampunk-themed restaurant I was one of over 100 extras to the story of Professor Doctor Penelope Tibeaux-Tinker Toothsome and her robot assistant Jaques. Gears whirled on the walls, precariously stacked ice creams and shakes sat behind glass, and quirky, upbeat tunes played at all hours.

I worked for tips by cleaning and resetting tables, stacking glassware, and folding rows and rows and rows and rows of linen. I worked manic eight-hour. I developed a pain in my leg, calloused hands, and biceps strong enough to co-muscle a couch off a moving van.

Once, I slept for two hours in my car after a shift. My boyfriend Alex was alarmed when I told him. Again, part of me thought, “How could I use this in my writing?” I squeezed in my schoolwork during breaks and between shifts, and when I wasn’t congealing in horrendous I-4 traffic.

A busser once dropped an entire tub of dirty dishes, and like ants, servers and bussers alike picked up the broken glass and towel-dried the floor, unprompted. It felt like a musical number. There was something magical with the unpredictability of every shift. The restaurant thrived with life and so many people. Once I clocked out, I left the stress of work behind me.

I planned my day around the hectic drive to Universal, leaving extra early to write in coffee shops, or I’d re-enter the Citywalk after a shift to write instead of fighting my way through rush hour.
I would’ve stayed longer if not for the hour-plus long commute with tolls, and the financial unpredictably of a wage of tips.

But my old boss from Huey Magoos called me. He was brought on as a general manager for another location. They were searching for an assistant manager.

I hung up my steampunk goggles and rubber gloves for a steady paycheck and closer commute. Surely this would be the end of my job hunt. I’ve corralled hordes of Anime club goers and actors for theater productions. Managing employees must work the same way, right?

For months I kept assuring myself that this was the smartest course of action, even after one shift, where a fanatical, religious, homeless guy meandered into the store for a sermon, and a guest who was stalking one of my cashiers bought the guy a meal.

And after the day when one woman cut the line and blew mysterious white powder all over the counter.

Even if the work atmosphere feels toxic, I can always repurpose those feelings for my characters.

I wonder if leaving Universal was the right choice. I wonder if leaving the realm of unemployment law was the right choice. A steady nine-to-five with a potential for growth and benefits seems luxurious compared to food service. I once wrote, “I want to believe that my time creating is more valuable than a paycheck derived from data entry,” and here I am, leaving Huey Magoo’s.

Insane, leaving jobs and expecting different results. People work dull jobs to fund their passions. Yet I had to walk out of a lecture in my summer residency because despite being in another state at the time of a secret shopper report, management blamed me for a low score. The thought of returning to my current job broke me.

In that residency a few days later, I attended an open discussion, where several alumni answered questions regarding their experiences in publishing. This was my chance to ask about agents, or query letters, or editors, or any other steps in the publishing process. But when I got a chance to speak, I asked about their writing processes. “I know that everyone has a different process,” I prefaced, “But it’s nice to hear what works for others. So often I read that ‘oh if you don’t write every day, you’re not a writer,’ and then I don’t write, and I beat myself up and I eventually spiral into a pit of despair…”

A few audience members laughed. But the alumni were quick to respond. They expressed their hatred of the “write a day” tenet, because a writer who is still discovering his or her habits will automatically discredit his or herself. One stated that she simply did not dedicate every day to writing. Another mentioned setting stupidly easy goals, like committing ten minutes to writing. Setting impossible goals creates a resistance to write, while easy goals not only creates little pressure, but usually lead to exceeding the time set aside in the first place.

“Be kind to yourself,” the alumni stressed.

I feel like this advice is great not only for the writing process, but a general lifehack. When I was a teenager I was told that life would settle down once I entered my 20s. Now that I’m here, an online post mentioned that my life won’t settle until I’m in my 30s. At this rate, I’ll be settled a decade after I am dead.

Since that summer residency, my current job has leveled out. The pay is decent and the stress is better (those employees quit or were fired). And the strange happenings still make for excellent material (we had one woman ask us to substitute each tender for an extra toast in her meal, because she stated she’s a vegetarian. We’re a chicken tender restaurant).

But I’ve searched for another job because I need to be kinder to myself. I need to find a creative solution to my employment, one that will allow me the mental clarity to accomplish more. I need to be less harried, in order to be able to answer some of these questions.

And I believe I will with my new job, not as a shift lead, but as a Sensei. I have been hired by Sus-Hi Eatstation, a create your own sushi restaurant that started in 2011. The employees and guests are called Ninjas. When guests top their rolls with cheese and bacon, they literally have the option to set their food ablaze via blowtorch (to which the employees yell FIRE!).

The owner stated that it’ll be over a month before I’m fully comfortable in my role, which includes front of house, back of house, and management operations. I’ve adorned my uniform with Fullmetal Alchemist pins, which are permitted. And we are encouraged to make mistakes, because once the mistake is made, we can learn the procedure the right way.

I haven’t had much time at Sus-hi, but so far, I think I’ve taken a step in the right direction. A change in setting is a change of story, after all.

Brontë Bettencourt at Hemingway House

Brontë Bettencourt (Episode 34, Episode 221) graduated from the University of Central Florida with a Bachelors in English Creative Writing. She’s currently pursuing an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults at Hamline University. When she’s not writing or working she’s a full time D&D enthusiast and YouTube connoisseur.

Aesthetic Drift #17: A Truckload of Corpses, or Violence’s Meaning in Narrative

18 Thursday Jan 2018

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte, Aesthetic Drift

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Akata Witch, David Mamet, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Nnedi Okorafor, One Hundred Years of Solitude, Patrick Ness, The Knife of Never Letting Go, Three Uses of the Knife, Tokyo Ghoul

Aesthetic Drift #17 by Brontë Bettencourt

A Truckload of Corpses, or Violence’s Meaning in Narrative

I am haunted by Tokyo Ghoul.

Tokyo Ghoul

The anime’s pacing was slow and dull and the finale was a hot mess, but one scene left me intrigued and horrified.

Kaneki Ken has a good heart but no backbone. He is a recently turned ghoul who remembers what it means to be human, making it morally difficult for him to consume flesh to survive. In high-stress situations his pacifist nature has left both the innocent and fucked up in the head, dead.

In the season one finale, Kaneki’s been taken captive and tortured. Although his friends are on the way to rescue him, they can’t prevent the harrowing decision he’s forced to make: Kaneki must choose to save the life of one of two other captives, or else his captor will kill them both. Up until this point there hasn’t been too much gore, with the camera panning away from anything too bloody or gruesome (a bit of a letdown considering that humans are constantly hunted).

The moment slows, the captor taking his sweet time as he strangles the life out of one of the victims. But Kaneki still cannot decide who to save. The camera cuts accelerate between the woman’s asphyxiation, the man shouting at him to decide, and the captor’s sadistic delight. The music and voices swell. The tension builds. And builds. And builds.

Finally, the victim’s neck snaps.

The scene quiets, leaving the audience with that moment to sink in.

We needed to understand how Kaneki Ken becomes the ruthless killer in season two. But did we really have to sit through that?

Was the brutality really necessary?

In undergrad lit we discussed why George Hurstwood commits suicide in Sister Carrie. We discussed spousal abuse in House of the Spirits. We explored the effects of war in The Sun Also Rises, Catch 22, and 100 Years of Solitude.

One Hundred Years of Solitude

In 100 Years of Solitude, one of the characters awakens atop a truckload of corpses:

“When José Arcadio Segundo came to he was lying face up in the darkness. He realized that he was riding on an endless and silent train and that his head was caked with dry blood and that all his bones ached. He felt an intolerable desire to sleep. Prepared to sleep for many hours, safe from the terror and the horror, he made himself comfortable on the side that pained him less, and only then did he discover that he was lying against dead people… Several hours must have passed since the massacre because the corpses had the same temperature as plaster in autumn and the same consistency of petrified foam that it had, and those who had put them in the car had had time to pile them up in the same way in which they transported bunches of bananas” (Marquez 306).

Before this [grotesque] passage, I casually enjoyed the magic of the book but otherwise reading on autopilot since this was an assignment. I sat up on my bed, now awake, rereading to see what I missed while I was dozing off.

I wasn’t prepared to feel the texture of these once alive people. People die for sport in some anime, but with Marquez’s writing, I felt my most exhausted, migraine-induced, feverish night, and waking up not to a warm bed but instead surrounded by dead bodies. I enjoyed the magic so much that I forgot the realism involved, and that shred of what I felt for José Arcadio Segundo seeped into my happy, fantastical bubble, disguised as very dark magic.

I felt nauseous. I didn’t want to emphasize with his situation, but the sensory details made it inevitable. What of all these bodies? Did all of them have to die? The characters I was used to dying were villains, or minor characters, or flat characters. Such deaths were either a triumph or a plot point. I couldn’t make sense of this scene when earlier in the text I accepted sleeping sickness and a five-year rainstorm. The swiftness of their death made me feel small and wronged.

I’ve experienced scarce violence myself. I quit martial arts because a purple-belt flipped me into the ground. She caught my foot mid-kick and she flung me onto the dirt.

I screamed.

All the other kids stopped mid-spar to stare.

The purple-belt didn’t apologize. Instead, she scolded me for not landing better. My hip ached. Grass stained my gi. I felt nauseous and small and not badass. (This was not an anime.)

In undergrad, I learned that violence could be for more as sport, a simple way to heighten the stakes.

Around the same time I read Marquez, I also read a novel whose characters’ attitudes towards violence felt painfully vivid despite the violence itself not being explicitly presented.

Akata Witch

Nnedi Okorafor’s Akata Witch follows Sunny on her journey of self-discovery as a Leopard, a manipulator of juju.

One of the first scenes involves Sunny and her classmates getting into a fist fight: “Right there on the far side of the schoolyard, three girls and four of the boys beat Sunny as they shouted taunts and insults. She wanted to fight back, but she knew better. There were too many of them” (7-8).

Okorafor’s writing style is tersely flat. Sunny and her friends must stop Black Hat Otokoto from kidnapping and maiming children. While YA may feature as much death and suffering as the other genres, Okorafor here transgresses against the YA genre by making the suffering characters the same age as her readers.

There is a scene in chapter seven where the characters reflect on a threat. Sunny and crew travel through the treacherous Night Runner Forest to meet a Leopard elder. The elder states that if the crew hadn’t made it, they wouldn’t have been worth his time.

The elder’s statement angers Sunny: “‘We could have all been killed… We met with a bush soul! What if it had done us in?’” But the elder does not console Sunny. He instead explains that a life–especially a young person’s–is worth little. “‘I don’t make a habit of meeting Anatov’s groups of students, but Anatov thinks you’re useful—useful to the Leopard People, though all this might be harmful to you as individuals. But that’s life, eh?’ (133)”

I think the elder’s philosophy explains the lack of detail placed on the violence. Individual sacrifice is taken for granted in a gravely dangerous world. Yes, Harry Potter must be the one to stop Voldemort, or else the magical world is doomed. Katniss Everdeen must lead the revolution against President Snow’s Panem. But if Sunny’s group fails, then the elders would search for another group to stop Black Hat Otokoto. The importance falls on saving the world, regardless of if Sunny survives.

In Akata Witch the final fight lasts nine pages. Okorafor uses small descriptors such as “Sasha and Black Hat were having some sort of juju battle. Sasha was slowly sinking to the ground as a white cloud hovered around him. But he still held his knife” (320). The story has been building to this final fight, only for it to be described as “some sort of juju battle.” The narration remains with a panicking Sunny, who watches the actions of the whole team. Through her the focus is of the entire scene, not just the minute actions of the fight.

Only after Sunny can come to term with forces outside of her control, does she defeat Black Hat : “Sunny smiled. She knew how the world would end. She knew someday she would die. She knew her family would live on if she died right now… Her motions were smooth. The world shifted. Suddenly, all things were—more (326-27)”. Okorafor focuses on the world’s morality, rather than the importance of single characters.

Three Uses of the Knife

In the Three Uses of a Knife, David Mamet claims: “Our endorsement of violence in art, like our endorsement of violence in our nation’s behavior, is a compulsive expression of the need to repress — to identify a villain and destroy it. The compulsion must be repressed because it fails. It fails because the villain does not exist in the external material world. The villain, the enemy, is our own thoughts” (53).

To Mamet, violence in art is a compulsion. We refuse to think about who we are and why we do things, instead displacing our own shortcomings in killing a designated bad guy. But the victory is short-lived; since the satisfaction is shallow, we must keep finding new villains to kill. Akata Witch breaks this pattern due to less focus on violence, and more of what it wants the reader to get from it.

In Tokyo Ghoul, I was satisfied when Kaneki Ken finally slaughters the villain. But the villain has broken Kaneki, turning him into a villain that I understood since I experienced his torment second-hand. As Mamet explained, there is an emptiness to the violence because Kaneki’s morale is broken. He does not think about the implications; he just kills. And the viewer now must question their ways of validating Kaneki’s lust for blood.

The Knife of Never Letting Go

Patrick Ness’s The Knife of Never Letting Go vividly depicts a more systematically violent world than Tokyo Ghoul, but the novel gives us the alarming interiority of a character’s reckoning with the meaning of living in such a world.

Todd is running from his home town just several weeks short from his fifteenth birthday. The residents are after him because he is the only person who has yet to kill someone; by killing, Todd will achieve manhood. Todd is pushed to his breaking point: his dog is murdered, his caretakers’ status is unknown, and his companion Viola has been taken hostage by a homicidal zealot.

Todd eventually takes the life of a Spackle, one of the humanoid creatures of the planet. After defending himself, Todd is overcome with the gravity of killing:

“I find I’m saying ‘No’ over and over again and the fear in his Noise keeps echoing around mine and there’s nowhere to run from it, it’s just there and there and there and I’m shaking so bad I can’t even stay on my hands and knees and I fall into the mud and I can still see the blood everywhere and the rain’s not washing it off.”

Todd’s thoughts lack punctuation and run rampant with fixation on the murder. Ness distorts the text to illustrate his point. He varies the font size and warps the letters to mimic the unfiltered, intrusive thoughts that Todd cannot control. The text embodies the dark confusion of the human mind.

I was desperate for Kaneki to just act in that climatic moment in Tokyo Ghoul. I was left with the frustration of his refusal to save anyone. Now I’m traumatized, and I emphasize with his fallen morality.

Mamet writes: “true drama, and especially the tragedy, calls for the hero to exercise his will, to create, in front of us, on the stage, his or her character, the strength to continue. It is her striving to understand, to correctly assess, to face her own character (in her choice of battles) that inspires us — and gives us drama power to cleanse and enrich our own character” (43).

Sunny grows because she faces her own weakness during the final fight. Todd matures by maintaining his morality after confronting his moment of killing. Violence breaks the characters, but both manage to build themselves back up.

Kaneki buries his morality and becomes a remorseless killer. Because he no longer has a conscience, he doesn’t reflect on his actions. This could be development, or an incomplete story of his mental journey as a half-ghoul. Season one ends on a cliffhanger.

I haven’t picked the show back up in over a year. On a whole, I don’t think the first season works well. But I want to pick it back up just to see how Kaneki continues to grow.

I desperately hope he can still grow.

TWBFF Brontë Bettencourt

21st Century Brontë #32: The First Low-Residency Semester

11 Thursday Jan 2018

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte

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21st Century Brontë #32 by Brontë Bettencourt

The First Low-Residency Semester

Hello, Readers!

Last May I finished my first semester at Hamline University.

Every month, I submitted a packet of my work to the amazingly talented Phyllis Root. My packets consisted of twenty pages of new material, twenty pages of edited material, ten annotated bibliographies about books on a required reading list, a critical essay where I examine certain themes or writing elements, and a letter addressing my status during this marathon. Sometimes, the personal work changed: in the first month, I wrote forty pages of material, while in the last month I wrote twenty new pages, and two children’s picture books.

During the weekend of a friend’s wedding, I drafted my critical essay. I missed another friend’s birthday party after it was postponed once, because of approaching deadlines. One night I came home to find Sammie and Sally hanging out on the couch, neither of whom I’d seen for weeks.

Sammie lives on the floor below me. Sally is my roommate.

The work load was excruciating. I loved it.

In that work mode, I am tunnel-visioned on my craft. Between reading and writing, I thought of little else. I didn’t see these assignments as work. And I didn’t unwillingly throw myself into this program. I am good enough to be here.

I could do this.

With every submitted packet, Phyllis responded with several pages of positive comments, questions pertaining to worldbuilding, and book recommendations. I would base the following essay on an element of craft that I was unclear on. I’ve written essays on YA and Children’s literature story structure, magic as used by certain authors, and pacing. Anytime I felt exhausted or insecure I reread her letters, because even the critical parts were handled through inquiry, not vicious appraisal. The Facebook group I’m in with my other first semester friends helped, because despite having different mentors, we’re all undergoing the same issues. Every Monday we checked in with what we were writing and what books we were reading.

The semester ended in May. The summer residency began on July 7^th. I’ve turned in another piece for the next set of workshops. But here I am, dusting off my blog. I’ve written 100 pages of an Urban Fantasy novel, as well as two picture books. I’ve already finished my second semester with the fantastic Swati Avasthi. I’ve already submitted 40 more pages among other assignments, and I’ve learned graphic novel writing.

In those rare moments of free time, I’ve free-written on and off about another idea, involving Ellie and her family. I shouldn’t want to take breaks from writing if this is my occupation.

I’m never taking a break.

Before my first deadline Phyllis recommended Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott. On page seven, Lamott says that as a writer “you are desperate to communicate, to edify or entertain, to preserve moments of grace or joy or transcendence, to make real or imagined events come alive. But you cannot will this to happen. It’s a matter of persistence and faith and hard work. So you might as well go ahead and get started.”

Bird-by-Bird

My friend Charles asked me if I’ve seen an improvement since starting my first semester.

I think I’ve improved in terms of persistence, faith, and hard work. I would have to sit down and scrutinize an older piece versus a recent one to really see a difference.

I have a better eye on understanding what makes a stronger piece of writing, as well as differentiating my preferences.

If you have any questions regarding the Master’s Program for Writing Literature for Children and Young adults, please let me know in the comments. An update regarding my second semester will come soon.

Brontë Bettencourt at Hemingway House

21st Century Brontë #31: The MFA Begins

02 Thursday Feb 2017

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte

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21st Century Brontë #31 by Brontë Bettencourt

The MFA Begins

I kicked off 2017 with my first semester in Hamline University’s MFA program for Children and Young Adult Literature. I stuffed my suitcase full of workshopped stories, books, and more layers than what a Floridian knows to do with.

In St. Paul, Minnesota the underdressed can experience frostbite in under fifteen minutes.

hamline-snow

Seven hopefuls started this semester. There were nine of us, but two chose to leave the program due to personal circumstances, a rarity for this program.

I wasn’t anxious about the workload. I was still shocked that I was there at all. I quadruple checked that I indeed was the Brontë who was admitted into such a competitive program.

I learned the term for my inability to recognize my skill and accomplishments: Imposter Syndrome. I thought the school made a mistake by accepting my application.

I felt like Harry Potter, because, I couldn’t possibly be a, a grad school student.

YA fiction author Swati Avasthi gave the first lecture of the residency. She spoke about the different points-of-view, their advantages and disadvantages, and her theories on how each tends to push a story element more than the others. For example, first person narration focuses more on character development, while third omniscient pushes the theme. I had pages of notes about unreliable narrators and psychic distance, which defines the level of intimacy the author wants to be when narrating through a character.

For ten days (weekends included) I attended morning workshops, afternoon lectures, and evening readings. Not all the events were required, and occasionally free time was technically in the schedule. But my training in selling artwork at anime conventions mentally prepared me. I guzzled Dayquil, orange juice, and abused cough drops. I wasn’t deepening my pit of debt to nap in the hotel room.

New students were required to introduce themselves many times. Thankfully, my peers cheered when I stated my interests for Young Adult Fantasy, Graphic Novels, Anime, Comic Books, and Cartoons.

Afterward, another new student named Cristina asked me about the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Her copies of Ms. Marvel comics now sit on my desk.

I was overwhelmed by the faculty and students’ support. I grew up in a city where you can’t make eye contact with another without coming off as weird.

Here people are friendly and curious.

hamline-campus

When introducing myself for the 79th time, I told the story of my first undergraduate workshop, where I was told that I was too skilled to write about vampires.

For my first MFA workshop I submitted a short story about a barista who wanted to learn magic so she could work on her art. My peers said that the coffee shop setting was incredibly vivid, but they wanted to learn more about the magic.

Magic would’ve made others shame me in my undergraduate workshops. My professors then stressed literary fiction because inexperienced writers already have it hard with story craft without the complications of world-building a fantasy or sci-fi setting. The idea of genre fiction was completely dismissed. One of my professors wrote “no elves” in his syllabus.

And I can understand why the professors pushed character development most in a story. If we don’t have a connection with the characters, why should we care about what happens to them, even if what happens to them is supernatural?

Maybe I’ve proven that I have the basics down, that I’ve earned my place in that workshop. I’m sure the professor who told me to forget about vampires was trying to compliment me. But that’s what I read and watched when I was younger: The Vampire Chronicles, Yu Yu Hakusho, Fullmetal Alchemist.

I want to write the books that I needed as a kid. And instead of aging up Ellie and my other characters, they can serve a purpose for a younger audience.

But it’s still awesome to sit in a class and discuss the elements of a picture book, or how to cater to the psychology of a middle grade versus a young adult audience.

I feel like the MFAC staff and the other students get that.

red-baloon-bookstore

So I talked as much as I could without being obnoxious. I read my work out loud and answered questions. I kept stammering, but I was more excited than nervous.

I asked one of the admissions workers during the first semester luncheon about my application. I don’t remember how I worded the question, “Why me?” but she answered like it was the most obvious thing at that table:

“Because you’re a good writer.”

The rest of my semester will continue like an online class. Toward the end of the residency I was assigned an advisor. For the next four months I have the pleasure of working with Phyllis Root, who is equal parts amazing picture book author, and counselor for my stubborn case of Imposter Syndrome.

I have 40 pages of writing for my novel, a critical essay, and ten books to read from the reading list. Phyllis Root also recommended reading Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott, to help counter all this self-doubt and just write.

If you’re currently in an MFA program, or if you have any questions about mine, please let me know in the comments section!

Bronte as a Bag with Legs

Brontë Bettencourt (Episode 34, Episode 221) graduated from the University of Central Florida with a Bachelors in English Creative Writing. When she’s not writing or working, she is a full time Dungeon Master and Youtube connoisseur.

21st Century Brontë #30: Holding on to Challenges

08 Thursday Dec 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte, Anime

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Holiday Matsuri

21st Century Brontë #30 by Brontë Bettencourt

Holding on to Challenges

In my undergrad days, I directed several Murder Mystery Nights for the University of Central Florida’s anime club.

The event combines scripted scenes and improv. The characters are chosen from anime or anime-related content based on that evening’s theme.

With other writers, we created a script based off of how these pre-existing characters might react to each other, keeping true to the canon of our beloved material. There are challenges with writing a bunch of characters whose powers in their own world makes sense, but clash when set against others’ powers.

I was terrified of what I agreed to undertake when I became director. I hadn’t been given a chance to lead any major project until that point; I was unsure if I would be successful. But if no one had stepped up at that moment, the tradition that I joined as a college freshman would’ve been discontinued. I didn’t want the concept to be discontinued.

director-bronte

My decision payed off. Through several shows I learned how to direct a major project, but also to accept help from other talented individuals. One of the oddest string of networking involved hunting a dude down who potentially knew how to sew clothes—because he was with another friend who had sewn cosplay as they bought food from my job, and that he (this friend of a friend) worked at Joann’s Fabrics. I reached out. It turns out that he did, in fact, make his own cosplay costumes, and even had the outfit already made for one of the characters in the show (made for a separate occasion entirely). I felt proud and a tad creepy.

I love directing Murder Mystery Night because of the high level of craft and creativity that goes into these shows. From cardboard boxes, we created vending machines with operational lights. Stagehands stood inside these boxes, where they engaged in transactions with the audience members. In another show, there was an entire subplot where the only goal of one of the characters was to enter the public swimming pool. This pool was represented by a round, inflatable kiddie pool, which wasn’t meant to be taken seriously at all. The audience definitely got a kick out of it.

All of that work was done for free.

Because of my experience, and due to this being Anime Spot’s tenth year as an official organization, the current board was ecstatic to have me direct. But I wonder if my fluctuating esteem as a creative mind has resulted in these mixed emotions. I knew how to direct this event well, so there was no challenge with directing this year’s show. I can’t tell if this is arrogance or complacency.

I’ve been out of undergrad for over a year. I am starting my MFA in Children and Young Adult Literature next January, but I still find myself contributing to these shows. Thanks to a suggestion from my friend Hannah, we’re performing this year’s show at a local anime convention, Holiday Matsuri. Hours of planning, rehearsals, and organizing have gone into a project that may result in connections and resume building. I did get a free weekend pass to attend the convention.

Maybe what adds to my complacency is that nowadays, I don’t need to Sherlock my way to finding connections. We wouldn’t have the awesome base of Death Parade as the foundation for this show, if not for my assistant director, Alexander. Most of the cast can sew and alter their cosplays, and help those who are less skilled. My other friends, Austin and Matt, have acquired and edited all the sounds and props. And we have not one, but two awesome flyers thanks to Imani and Hannah. And the Anime Spot officers also help with whatever funding we may need, as well as relations with the convention staff.

Over time, so many unique minds have gravitated to Murder Mystery Night. I’ve always been emotional with story endings, especially since I grow too attached and am vehemently against change. But I can’t hope to grow if I don’t accept new tasks that challenge me.

murder-mystery-night

I’ve heard Murder Mystery Night described as a “glorified fanfiction,” which I both loathe and love. The script is fan fiction because these stories take place outside the context of the characters’ respective series. We do distinguish what point the character is being written from in his or her respective show. We make educated guesses on how the characters will react to the synopsis. But the word glorified downplays everyone’s time, effort, and skill that goes into creating well-crafted stories. MMN is glorious fan fiction.

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My involvement with Murder Mystery Night may wane after this show. But the tools I’ve gained will help me tackle challenges that I wouldn’t be able to otherwise without such awesome experiences. And if you’re an Anime fan in the Orlando area December 16 through 18, definitely check out the show at Holiday Matsuri, if you can!

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21st Century Brontë #29: The Fiction Lessons of FullMetal Alchemist

10 Thursday Nov 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte, Anime

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Fullmetal Alchemist

21st Century Brontë #29 by Brontë Bettencourt

FullMetal Alchemist

In eighth grade, my friend Madison introduced me to an anime series entitled Fullmetal Alchemist at a time in life when I had to ask what the hell anime was.

The story: Edward and Alphonse Elric are two brothers who practice alchemy, a science that manipulates and alters matter by using natural energy.

In a failed attempt to bring their mother back to life, Ed loses his leg, while Al loses his entire body to a mysterious doorway known as The Gate of Truth. But Ed manages to embody Al’s soul into a suit of armor; Ed sacrifices his arm in the process in order to keep his brother alive. The two are on a quest for the Philosopher’s Stone, a legendary transmutation amplifier that could make their bodies intact once more.

At the beginning of every episode, the rule of equivalent exchange is explained: one cannot gain something without giving up something equal in return. The Philosopher’s Stone is said to help the user avoid this rule, capable of feats such as, yes, the legendary one of transmuting standard metal into gold. But there is no evidence that such a stone exists, or could be created.

I love the series for a multitude of reasons, the first being the strength that family bonds provide. Ed and Al navigate the world at such a young age. Their personalities counteract one other’s. Ed is more hot-headed and realistic. Al more soft-spoken, and empathetic.

They encounter a false prophet who uses alchemy to persuade an entire town that he can perform miracles as a holy man. While Al agrees in the wrongness in the prophet’s acts, Al also notes the good that this hope provides the town. The brothers’ conversations serve as a way for audience to mediate on the moral issues instead of taking such morality as flimsy props with which to garland an action-oriented plot.

The brothers’ relationship strengthens them, helping them survive all the violence and fucked up ethics they encounter.

They have experienced loss and grief at such a young age. This is one of the ways the creator, Hiromu Arakawa, creates substantial relationships: the characters know what it is like to lose someone. This is what fuels the characters’ drive toward their goals.

The concept of equivalent exchange reoccurs throughout the show, since the characters need to sacrifice in order to achieve their goals. The complications of the magical science are explored in great length, and the brothers must learn to make wise and responsible decisions with the power they hold.

Even with proper training and discipline in transmutation, Ed and Al cannot prevent a State Alchemist named Shou Tucker from creating a talking chimera by transmuting his daughter and dog together. Tucker’s arrest feels mild compared to the atrocity he committed. We learn that the transmutation cannot be undone. The chimera is killed as a result. This devastates the brothers.

This is a lesson that Ed and Al carry with them for the rest of the series: despite their knowledge and power, bad things still happen to good people. Ed laments that despite being the youngest State Alchemist to receive his certifications, he is “a simple human who couldn’t save a little girl. Not even with alchemy.”

Fullmetal Alchemist means so much to me because of these hard lessons. I was around Ed and Al’s age when I delved into this series. I saw nothing wrong in their wanting to bring their mother back to life. But what made this story stand out from the other anime I was getting to know at the time was that the brothers operated in a world that didn’t cater to them.

In Sailor Moon, the characters overcome all obstacles with sheer faith in each other. In Yu Yu Hakusho, Yusuke Urameshi is brought back to life by the fifth episode to serve as a Spirit Detective for the Spirit World. And in Dragon Ball Z, a simple wish from the Dragon Balls bring the heroes back to life multiple times.

In Fullmetal Alchemist, the world never bends to Ed and Al’s wills.

There’s an episode where Ed is nearly murdered by a serial killer. When the average anime protagonist would train to overcome this obstacle, or acquire a more powerful weapon, Ed instead reflects on his own mortality. The show reminds us that this is still a child learning to cope with a traumatizing situation. Death is a real threat for these characters. I just wanted to see these characters happy, which stemmed from many, many stories derived from the source material manga.

Another reason why I love this series is how easily Arakawa can change the mood. When the moment calls for a serious instance, she definitely delivers. But she prevents the story from becoming too heavy with emotion, reminding the audience of relationships and characters that are at stake.

In the first episode of the anime series, Ed and Al arrive at a desert city. One of the first things that one of the townspeople asks them if whether the two are circus performers. Hilarity ensues when Al preforms alchemy, and the townspeople mistake him for the Fullmetal Alchemist since he wears a suit of armor. When Al explains that Ed is actually the Fullmetal Alchemist, the townspeople cannot believe that the title belongs to such a small person. Ed then assaults several people because he is incredibly insecure about his height.

We don’t learn that Ed has automail limbs and Al is a hollow suit of armor until later in the episode, when the false prophet I mentioned earlier comes to the realization. Up until this point we know that the Ed has a height complex, and Al is wearing armor in a desert, and they’re searching for the Philosopher’s tone. If we were faced with this dramatic reveal first, we wouldn’t care since we’d have no idea of who these brothers are, or why we should care about them. We’re concerned about these characters because the lighthearted moments prior got us invested early on.

I also adored this anime for its badass women. One is Winry Rockbell, a childhood friend to the Elric brothers and an automail mechanic. Although she excels in her craft in order to help Ed out, that isn’t her sole purpose for her occupation. She forces the brothers to make a detour to Rush Valley due to the place’s reputation for automail production. She swoons over cutting edge machinery. She never renounces her femininity.

Winry harbors feelings for Edward Elric, but this is a small part of her character. Her parents were murdered during the Ishvalan War when she was very young. She gets angry at Ed and Al for not keeping in touch due to her concern for them. In the 2003 anime, she and Ed do not even end up together, while in Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood Ed confesses his feelings in the very last episode. These characters exist outside of romance, while the romance exists as an extra component to layer the characters.

There are more badass female characters. but the males also blur the standard gender norms as well. There’s Maes Hughes, a Lieutenant Colonel who served in the Ishvalan War who swoons and pulls out photos of his wife and daughter every time they’re mentioned. There’s also Major Alex Louis Armstrong, an overly muscular man with an affinity for drawing, flexing, and detailed alchemic transmutations. Arakawa actually draws sparkles in every scene that Armstrong is in.

I enjoy this series so much because it set a standard for what anime could be. Despite all its cheerful moments, the series never shied away from grimmer, darker lessons, nor did it attempt to define more complex concepts such as God or death in simplistic, merely-entertaining ways. Fullmetal Alchemist skillfully told a story with beautifully flawed characters. And despite the hardships that everyone goes through, they are given an ending that doesn’t feel forced, or cheesy, or undeserving.

In 2009, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood was released as a more faithful adaptation to Arakawa’s story. The animation is more fluid and complex, especially during the fight scenes. There are more badass, well-fleshed out characters. The pacing is quicker, and different forms of alchemy such as alkahestry are introduced.

But you should still watch the 2003 anime before Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. The former delves into complex topics. There is weight to the characters’ emotions. There is profound ambiguity.

One of the final scenes of the anime involves Ed and the antagonist, Dante, speaking to each other about equivalent exchange. Dante combats Ed’s ideologies of equivalent exchange, of how so many others also studied for countless hours in order to become a state alchemist, but because of luck Ed managed to seize the title. She counteracts the balance that equivalent exchange provides with the unpredictability of the world: “Equivalent exchange is a myth, a contrived order to give sense to a world that has none.” Instead of a battle, the animation distorts the room and characters as the law stated at the beginning of the anime is deconstructed.

Fullmetal Alchemist was the first anime to show me that anime could be an art form, and I also learned that I could confide in a medium that otherwise felt separate from my own.

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21st Century Brontë #28: The Shelf, and Finishing the Draft

13 Thursday Oct 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte

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21st Century Brontë #28 by Brontë Bettencourt

The Shelf, and Finishing the Draft

I finally started writing the first book to a series that I’ve been imagining for years, and it’s awful.

By awful, I mean the writing process. I feel like I’m slamming my head against the paper until my blood somehow congeals into the right words.

I’m midway through chapter two. My narrator, Ellie, encounters several characters who will later accompany her on her journey. I know what needs to be foreshadowed, as well as where and how Ellie’s character is established. I know her internal guilt, and apprehension as she goes about her daily routine.

I’ve known all of this for years. All I have to do is finish the draft.

I’ve become obsessed with completing this story. I bought a small notebook so I can write whenever I have a free moment. I jot down sentences during slow periods at work, during breaks, and on outings with friends. If I keep at it every day, I’ll eventually have the book finished, even if it’s only a few sentences at a time. Then, once edited and published, I might be able to support myself via my own writing.

The first few chapters outlined on my wall.

Up until a few months ago, my plan felt totally sound. But yet again I’ve stopped writing the story.

The majority of my writing sessions are fueled by determination to get the draft down. Over the course of several years I’ve created outlines detailing the chapters so I can compartmentalize the story, instead of feeling overwhelmed by an entire novel. I’ve changed the events to accommodate my own growing interests, and free wrote to keep myself intrigued by my permutations of the unfolding tale.

I knew that inspiration would not be enough to complete of the story. But I’ve begun to wonder if there ever was a drive to complete this book to begin with.

The reason why I created this story in the first place was to keep Ellie and her immediate circle alive. I poured years into developing their personalities and back-stories. I didn’t want all of that development to go to waste, and I was certain that if I created a story intriguing enough, others would also fall in love with these characters.

I became so consumed with creating another world, with its intricacies that I forgot what entertained me in the first place: characters. Why the hell did I create a story in which Ellie becomes separated from her brothers early on, when the charm rests in their relationships? Why am I spending so much time world building, when I really enjoy deepening the characters?

Because of this book, I’ve become stagnant. For me it’s comfortable to not pursue other projects until this series has been completed.

And years have passed.

So often I was taught to keep working on a piece until it’s been seen through to completion. If a story isn’t working, put it in a drawer and don’t touch it until a later time. I understand now why artists juggle so many projects; no one can afford to sit on a single idea until it chooses to come to fruition.

Sometimes a project needs to be reworked from the foundation up.

I’m considering building the story up from scratch, but I think shelving everything – including the characters – might be the best action. Even in my busiest times my mind wandered back to how Ellie would react to a monumental final, or what her opinion is on a new film. I would still feel guilty if I completely gave up on these characters.

For the last two months, I was consumed with graduate school applications. I spent the majority of that time on the twenty-page writing sample. With just over a week until the deadline I had about eighteen pages’ worth of freewrites, strung together by the reoccurring characters. I had magic, a love interest, and dream sequences, all wrapped up in a character who worked too much and created too little.

My editor told me that my writing sample would’ve ended up in the “No” pile.

I made the awful mistake of beginning my story with a dream sequence. But more importantly, my lack of confidence in the piece was glaringly obvious in over-description and underdevelopment of ideas. I was so concerned with the page count and impressing the universities that I forgot how to just tell the story.

I rewrote the entire story in two days, easily exceeding the page count that took me a month and a half.

My editor forced me to state that I would not worry about the page count, and I think that’s what helped me the most. With the deadline rapidly approaching, I didn’t have time to second-guess my writing, freeing me to make decisions.

I’ve made the decision to scrap my novel idea. I’m now working on a new idea involving Ellie and the crew, and because the idea is fairly new, the concept doesn’t feel overwhelming. The story feels like an alternate reality fan-fiction to the original idea, which allows me the same freedom I experienced with my writing sample. I can also focus more on the characters’ relationships and personalities.

Maybe it will flourish. I can also assure you that it does not begin with a dream sequence.

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21st Century Brontë #27: Just the Right Amount of Noise

06 Thursday Oct 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte

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21st Century Brontë #27 by Brontë Bettencourt

Just the Right Amount of Noise

When I worked in unemployment, I needed background noise in order to break the silence, to be able to focus on the tedium. Radio and music stopped working after a while because eventually they just became part of the tedious silence.

That was when I resorted to YouTube.

Now when I’m working on chores, or when I’ve ran too many mental circles around story elements, I’ll load YouTube on my phone and listen to YouTubers’ movie reviews, or writers relay their writing tips and tricks. But my favorite genre of YouTube are Let’s Plays, where YouTubers record their own videogame play-through as well as their reactions.

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Some of my friends criticize me for watching Let’s Play videos, since being exposed to them ruins my chance at enjoying these games as a player. If I had copious free time and income, then I would totally play the hell out of these games myself. Until I become a vampire, food and time are precious. And if I did choose to buy a video game, then I want to make sure that my money is not wasted. I want to be sure that the game captivates me with compelling characters, an intricate narrative, and polished gameplay mechanics. Go ahead and play, Let’s Play.

I don’t watch Let’s Plays just for the game; the YouTuber themselves add to the game with their reactions. Their presence creates an atmosphere of someone nearby, engaging in a casual activity in the room. The noise keeps me from overthinking the piece. Because I’m hearing and thus focusing on the words of another, I visualize the story’s sequence of events. The casual nature of Let’s Plays also keeps my own writing session lighthearted; with silence and even music, I sometimes focus too much on how to construct the sentence, and not drafting the story. I forget that I do not need to create the perfect balance of story and style in the first draft, and it is near impossible to do so without some form of divine intervention. Let’s Plays keep me from getting fixated on technical execution, and they also serve as a reminder of the very human who creates a masterful work. I’m really just watching someone sitting in their videogame den, recording and editing without thinking of the impact of some greater meaning to their work. Their work just happens to be enjoyed by the public, which keeps me humble about my own creations.

But I can only write to videos I’ve already watched. If I’m watching a video for the first time, then my mind focuses too much on that and not writing. I also can’t listen to the more boisterous Let’s Players like Markiplier or Jacksepticeye while I am writing, since their personalities are what draw people to the game. Instead I watch quieter Youtubers such as Cryaotic, who may speak once in a while, but ultimately allows the game to speak for itself.

My exception to this rule is during my off time. Although I’m not actively thinking about my writing as I am watching Let’s Plays, the story is unconsciously processing. When least expected, an issue will figure itself out when I focus on these videos.

Many YouTube artists play multiple videogame genres, appealing to a multitude of fans. I feel like I’m getting to know a person without the messy trial and error of interaction, and them playing the game promotes it to their fan bases, providing PR for the game creators.

The YouTuber Jacksepticeye worded the interaction well during his playthrough of the game The Beginner’s Guide. These YouTube videos are snippets of the creator’s life that they choose for us to see. “When you get the full compilation of everything, is that when you begin to understand who this person is that you’re watching,” he explained.

Like pulling textual evidence from a piece of literature in order to support a hypothesis, the different videos help the viewer understand the YouTuber as a rounded person, and not some perfect being. But like how a character or idea can exist only by the evidence given in the source material, we can only know the individual through the “snippets” that they allow us to see. The effect is like what reality television promised, but never delivered.

Only recently are people recognizing this as a field to make money, and companies are realizing the promotion of their product provided by Lets Players. But the companies need to believe that the Let’s Player’s online draw is great enough to offer a sponsorship, otherwise the company is losing money.

The motivation for a Let’s Player to post content with no guarantee of success, says a lot about artists, or just people in general. There must be a willingness to share, to reach out to others about a game that he or she felt compelled to record. There must be a drive to entertain others, and to think that one is entertaining enough to record and post online. With such a huge margin for error I believe there’s a selflessness to Let’s Playing.

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I also think these videos say something about the difficulty I face whenever I need to write. Instead of distracting myself with the lives of over 300 friends on Facebook, I occupy myself with a single person. I mentioned that these videos give the illusion of being connected to another, which in a sense keeps me from being fully alienated from the up to date information that the internet provides. With how quickly we receive information today, the lack of statuses and articles makes me fidget. Maybe Let’s Play videos are a happy medium between silence and too much information, like a Diet Infodump. They are a wavelength that fuels my subconscious, keeps my Muses awake.

Youtube Let’s Plays are a lesser evil in the sense that I should perhaps be totally isolated in order to engage my craft. But the videos serve as a reminder of why my stories are worth sharing. If a Let’s Player can attract a following with video editing, sound effects and the right reactions to pivotal game play moments, then there is a crowd for a well written story.

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21st Century Brontë #26: Grace Paley, Writing, and Romance

22 Thursday Sep 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte

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Grace Paley

21st Century Brontë #26 by Brontë Bettencourt

Grace Paley, Writing, and Romance

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In April I drove to Georgia with my friends, Sammie, Leah, and Sally. During the eight-hour drive riddled with traffic jams and sidelined accidents, the topic of weddings came up in conversation. I learned that three out of four of us had numerous, detail-oriented fantasies of the ceremony, including cake designs, dress style, and attendee roster. It became clear that I was the outlier when Sammie asked for my preferences.

I thought getting married would be nice, but never did I plan on details such as cake toppers. Instead, I wanted to be a wildly successful author, like J. K. Rowling or Anne Rice. I daydreamed about creating works that were equal parts thought-provoking and entertaining. A significant other was always inconsequential to my ultimate goal, a side plot to my main story arc.

The first boyfriend I had lasted for three weeks. We were in middle school, and his only concern was quenching his hormonal thirst. He was disappointed to find that my idea of out loud roleplaying was story creation. So he broke it off, leaving me with my first heartbreak.

Because of him, I was inspired to create one of my now favorite characters. But ever since that relationship failed, my writing life and romantic endeavors remained separate.

There have been relationships that I have broken off because the guy got between me and my work. The boyfriend would become the center of my universe, and because his universe did not revolve around writing, I would neglect my craft for months. And when I did get a creative spark, the boyfriend’s clinginess kept me from immersing myself.

Then I had one boyfriend who refused to go to sleep until I finished writing for the night. I told him not to wait up because I would be a while, to which he responded with, “That’s alright, I like watching you while you work.”

I did not write for long that night. Getting into a creative rhythm already proves difficult without a pair of eyes boring into my back.

I’m also a very private person. Unless I believe the individual is interested in my art or writing, I refrain from gushing about my work. But even when I was younger I covered my notes the moment Mom entered the room. I guess I can’t blame her for demanding to see my things because my behavior wasn’t exactly normal: “No Mom, I’m not watching porn. I’m writing a book.”

This trait of mine may bite me in the ass later when in need to self-promote.

There is a quote by Grace Paley that I could not understand at first:

“The only thing you should have to do is find work you love to do. And I can’t imagine living without having loved a person. A man, in my case. It could be a woman, but whatever. I think, what I always tell kids when they get out of class and ask, ‘What should I do now?’ I always say, ‘Keep a low overhead. You’re not going to make a lot of money.’ And the next thing I say: ‘Don’t live with a person who doesn’t respect your work.’ That’s the most important thing—that’s more important than the money thing. I think those two things are very valuable pieces of information.”

I thought the advice was gibberish, taking concepts of love and work and crudely meshing them together in a single paragraph. But love and work aren’t separate; it isn’t farfetched to ask for both.

My current relationship taught me that.

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One of the first interactions I had with Alex involved UCF’s Murder Mystery Night, a production that I was in charge of. The script was riddled with formatting errors and hasty descriptions, which would’ve been fixed in another week. Instead, he noted all of the mistakes and forwarded the document to me, eager to help me with the corrections.

At the time I was annoyed by this guy I barely knew, sending me the corrections to a work that myself and others invested in via months of planning. But once I got to know him, I realized that he wasn’t being arrogant, or trying to show me up. Without being prompted, he was helping me with my writing.

Alex allows me to work in the bedroom while he takes care of his projects in the living room. He falls asleep much earlier than I, giving me time to develop my own thoughts. Often, he goes to his parents house on the weekends, freeing up my schedule to be creative on the days outside of the work week.

Although he’s not a writer, he asks me specific questions about my writing. He’ll inquire about the characters and their relationships, or the story mechanics, or the sequence of events. Alex’s active role in my writing life creates a safe space for me to work, giving me both a physical space, as well as someone to confide in.

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Alex also encouraged me to attend the Association of Writers and Writing Programs in 2015, and traveled with me to LA for the same conference this year. If not for these conferences, I wouldn’t have a list of MFA programs that I’m now applying for.

Grace Paley’s quotation makes sense to me because Alex not only respects my craft: he encourages it. And him taking an active role in my work adds a layer of intimacy. For me, writing has always been private because it’s a personal process. Even if he doesn’t understand why I’m scribbling on my arm or editing hours after I should’ve eaten, he doesn’t question it. He helps me find value in my own words, and he even makes sure I eat when I can’t be bothered to look away from my work.

This week I asked him to review my writing sample for my graduate school applications. He is terrified that I’ll revoke our relationship status when he hands over all of his edits. But I love that I can ask him for these edits, even if my already fragile ego might be wounded.

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21st Century Brontë #25: Breathtaking Characters

15 Thursday Sep 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in 21st Century Bronte, Blog Post, Film

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Kubo and the Two Strings

21st Century Brontë #25 by Brontë Bettencourt

Breathtaking Characters

Last Saturday, I went to see Kubo and the Two Strings.

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The movie begins on a small boat at night, during a storm in the middle of an ocean. A lone, distraught woman is about to be swallowed by a massive tidal wave when she parts the water, by striking a single note from a shamisen. Just witnessing a single individual overcome the vast, tumultuous nature of the sea set the grand scale that this film was operating on.

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Set in ancient Japan, the film follows Kubo, a young boy with the ability to manipulate paper by playing music from a shamisen. By day, he entertains the nearby village by animating origami to tell stories. At night, Kubo must remain indoors or else The Moon King will find him and steal his remaining eye.

We wouldn’t have an awesome story if Kubo did not break this rule. With the help of Monkey and Beetle (a monkey, and an ex-warrior with a beetle-like exterior, respectively), Kubo must uncover his father’s magic-imbued armor if he hopes to defeat The Moon King.

What I loved most about this movie was how both the mature tones and wondrous moments did not obscure one another. There is a scene where Kubo and his companions must cross the Long Lake in order to obtain the next piece of his father’s armor. Kubo has run out of paper, and Monkey and Beetle don’t pay him any mind as they argue between themselves. The camera focuses on the argument as fallen tree leaves begin to drift past them, increasing in quantity with every line. The music gradually swells as the duo finally turn to see that Kubo built an entire ship from autumn leaves.

The amount of creativity and grandeur from Kubo’s imagination left me giddy in the theater. Magic and uniqueness are simply accepted by the world’s inhabitance. When Kubo enters the village in order to tell stories with music and origami, I automatically prepared for the second-hand embarrassment that accompanies this cliché. Would the standard schoolyard bullies make an appearance? Would the townspeople pick on him for his magic, or his missing eye? Would Kubo have to prove his worth to those who misunderstand his otherness?

But all of the villagers knew and accepted Kubo. They were invested in his stories, begging Kubo to finish the story he had been telling for hours. I feel like this acceptance allowed me to watch the feats and twists without the anxiety of Kubo failing at his task. With all of the characters on the same page, I could follow along without injecting reason into the magic, allowing me to engage in childlike awe.

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But Kubo and the Two Strings is more than just an adventure story. A direct contrast to the magic were the Sisters, villainesses who search for Kubo on the Moon King’s behalf. The Sisters also use magic but without the colors and sound that accompany Kubo’s gift. They hover in silence, utilizing noxious smoke and blades. The Sisters destroy the village during its festival, an abrupt reminder that this is not an escapist’s children’s movie.

The Sisters also wore masks, preventing the audience from relating to them. Besides the shift in their voices, their stilted movements and masks distinguished them from mortals. Clearly their masks are not used to hide their identities, since we’re told who they are in the first scene they appear in. Instead the masks convey a coldness and distance, the distinction between them as immortals and the humans they look down on.

Early on in the movie the audience learns that Kubo’s mother used to be like The Sisters. She forsakes that part of her family in order to keep Kubo safe. We never see her wear a mask, allowing us to connect with her through her expressions and warmth. Although magic is abundant in this world, the characters are still susceptible to death.

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After Kubo is assaulted by The Sisters in the dead of night (and if you do not want spoilers, please skip this paragraph), his mother sacrifices herself in order for him to escape. The audience learns that she is Monkey, her magic enabling her to possess Kubo’s monkey charm. Although the mother’s magic prolonged her death, she eventually passes away. She is not brought back at the end of the movie. Her resurrection would’ve cheapened the movie and its message of accepting death as not the end, but the beginning of another story.

I didn’t have any words when the credits rolled. My friends gushed about how amazing the movie was, but I couldn’t capture what I witnessed into meaningful words. I felt like my words would have cheapened the experience . The longer I remained quiet, the longer I stayed with the story. I didn’t bring the story up until a few minutes after Alex and I started driving.

Alex also remained silent, too enraptured with emotion to put his thoughts into words.

One of the first lines of Kubo and the Two Strings is to “pay careful attention to everything you see, no matter how unusual it may seem.” Despite how unusual this story was at times, my friends and I were captivated. The film could present the shocking depth of a monkey and a beetle-man because we were invested in these characters. If a story is told to the truest of the storyteller’s ability, the audience will follow along.

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