Author Archives: mary

A large number of fantasy and sci-fi stories feature military characters. Sometimes it’s because a knight or space marine seems like a more exciting protagonist than a peasant or waiter at the Star Diner. Or, sometimes the peasant or waiter finds herself leading a revolt against the Empire of Evil, and now all those uniformed troops are out to get her.

At certain points in history, many people in a country will have had at least one family member or friend who’s served in the armed forces, or will have served themselves. At others, some people might not have any close associates who’ve served. This is a ground ripe for misconceptions to creep in. Sometimes these misconceptions imply that military personnel are capable of incredible feats—and then imply personal fault when reality fails to live up to the mythology. And sometimes these misconceptions feed ugly falsehoods.

“Lone wolves” do not make the ideal soldiers.

Being in the military is, to a large part, about learning to work as a team. Success or failure—and sometimes, even survival—depends on everyone doing their best and working together. “Lone wolves” might make dramatic protagonists in video games (in which the player gets to defeat all the enemies her/himself) but in real life, nobody wants to be on a team with the guy who can’t get along with anyone else, or whose tendency to ignore orders and “do his own thing” puts the rest of the team in danger.

Militaries do not have unlimited equipment/personnel.

“We needed to evacuate the island. Why didn’t the army send more helicopters?”

The army didn’t have more helicopters to send.

“Why not??”

Well, some were stationed too far away to get there in time.

“How come?”

In case they were needed in those other places. We can’t psychically guess where helicopters might be needed at any given time.

“Why don’t we just get more helicopters then??”

Helicopters have to come from somewhere. It takes time to build them. It also takes money.

(And the same goes for pilots. You might have ten helicopters and only five available pilots who can fly them. No, you cannot swap out for a jet pilot.)

“Then why didn’t we put more people in the helicopters we did have?”

Because aircraft have weight limits, beyond which it is dangerous to fly.

The truth is that most military operations are about learning to do the most with the equipment and people you’ve got. It is never as much or as many as you would want.

If your main character is a soldier, she will have spent much of her career solving problems, often based around “we’re out of this, we’re short of those, and we can’t get you these, so what can you use instead?”

It is not always possible to avoid casualties. Or to say no to missions that might cause casualties.

“Misconceptions About Combat” is a whole other article, but in brief: not even the best crack shot in the world can reliably “shoot the gun out of the enemy’s hand,” or otherwise render the enemy unable to harm anyone while refraining from killing them. Commanders often have difficult decisions to make when going back in search of the missing soldier means putting their entire units at risk: is it fair to ask ten people to gamble their lives for one? And what if doing so makes the unit unable to carry out their mission? If someone gets injured, do you evacuate them first, or do you carry out the mission and hope they can hold on? Leaders are regularly faced with hard choices: to presume that these choices are “easy” or imply a “lack of caring” do real-life servicepeople a true disservice.

Most people don’t join the military “to kill people.”

I’ve been shocked and disgusted to read scenarios which were summed up, in effect, as “well, only soldiers died, so it’s okay.” The implication is that anyone who “signed up to kill” deserved to be on the receiving end. After all, why else would anyone join the military?

Patriotism is a potential reason, certainly, but a more common motiviation is opportunity. “I couldn’t find a job in my area.” “I wanted to travel/get an education/experience life and I couldn’t afford to do it on my current wages.” Or, simply, “there’s no other way to learn to fly a fighter jet.”

The military personnel I know are not looking for a legally sanctioned way to commit murder. Some of them are people who strongly believe in their country and its principles. Many of them are people who found service to be the best way (sometimes the only way) to improve their lives. Writing them as though they were criminals does a disservice to the many fine men and women in uniform across the world.

Even though fiction is make-believe, fictional portrayal of groups of people can reinforce real-world thinking. The power of fiction is that it can get readers to think about different points of view, including ideas they’d never considered before, and all while having “fun”. But cheap stereotypes can reinforce ideas borne of misinformation and ignorance. Do real-life military personnel the courtesy of reflecting their experiences in an honest way.

A Man Plus A Woman Equals – Comrades?

May 26, 2016

mary

I’ve heard the advice that, when possible, it’s a great idea to add a romance subplot to your story. I’m not talking about romance as a genre–a genre that I’ve published in–in which the developing relationship between two characters is the focus of the plot. I’m talking about stories in which the heroes are in pursuit of another goal and just happen to fall in love with one another along the way.

Well…

Sometimes it’s a great idea, and sometimes it’s not.

Quick, think of your favourite onscreen romance. Your “canon ship,” if you will. (For those not in fandom = “Ship” means “relationship,” and “canon” means it actually appeared in the source material….because creators of transformative works will happily develop relationships between characters who never even meet in the source material…)

Who have you got?

Han Solo and Princess Leia?

Robin Hood and Maid Marian?

Korra and Asami?

These are examples of romance being a great addition to the story. Plenty of readers who would never pick up a “romance” story enjoy the interpersonal dynamics and the fantasy of falling in love taking place alongside the epic adventure. Romance adds another level of appeal, and the more appeal, the better when you’re trying to sell a story.

But we can all list examples of romance being done poorly.

Stories where “romance” is replaced by a sex scene – the kind that doesn’t contribute to the story. I’m sure many of us have waited through “this is the part where they have sex, because of course they do. Hurry up and get back to the real story.”

Stories where “romance” takes place between two characters that have no chemistry, no reason to be interested in one another, save for the fact that the “romance” box on the writer’s checklist needs ticking.

Stories where one character–often but not always the female character–exists solely to be a love interest for another character, and has little personality beyond “X’s girlfriend/wife/etc.”

Stories where an interesting female character suddenly becomes “weakened”and falls in love with the “Mr Average” leading man, who saves the day (does anyone have examples of a male character falling victim to this? Female examples include the Lego Movie, the Matrix, All You Need is Kill/Edge of Tomorrow…)

And worst of all, stories where romance runs counter to the themes and ideas in the story.

Mad Max: Fury Road was a breath of fresh air to me and many other people in that its lead characters, Max and Furiosa, are a man and a woman who…don’t fall in love! Their relationship develops from adversarial (Furiosa has gone rogue to rescue five women who’ve been held in sexual servitude, and she fears Max is an obstacle to her success; Max just wants to live and will go through whoever he has to) to mutual respect, friendship, and, yes, affection…but nowhere is there any hint of romance. Indeed, Furiosa’s position as a woman in a leadership role in a patriarchal community has interesting implications as to what her views of sexuality, gender, and relationships must be, given the society in which she lives (and in contrast to the society she was born into, which has flaws of its own). To try to shoehorn in a romance with Max (who is suffering from mental illness and also struggling to define his role in society) would not have fit this story whatsoever.
This is not to say that romance has “cooties”. There’s an obvious relationship between Warboy Nux and ex-breeder Capable, but whether this is “romance” or a more innocent sort of childlike affection between two emotionally stunted people is open to interpretation. Mad Max doesn’t shy away from deep emotion and vulnerability. It does show that romance and sex are not the only ways to show emotion and vulnerability in relationships between men and women.

Pacific Rim is another excellent example of a movie where a male and female soldier work together to accomplish a dangerous mission. There’s no doubt that Raleigh and Mako are very close, emotionally–they wouldn’t be able to fight together in their robot without a deep connection. But there’s no sex and not even so much as a kiss between them in the movie itself. Are they in romantic love, or are they comrades-in-arms? The movie doesn’t answer this question, and doesn’t need to. In this case, open-ended ambiguity lets viewers imagine a romance, or not, as they choose–whichever is more meaningful to the viewer. Some viewers will want the romance fantasy; others will want affirmation of closeness without romance. Unlike Mad Max: Fury Road, where it’s important that Furiosa and Max not be romantically involved, Pacific Rim benefits from an ambiguous relationship that can be what the viewer wants it to be.

In real life, plenty of us interact with people of the opposite gender who we aren’t 1.) related to, 2.) sexually involved with, or 3.) romantically attracted to. Yet so many stories focus on romance to the exclusion of other types of relationships. The result is stories that don’t reflect the full human experience, and a skewed depiction of romance as the be-all and end-all of relationships.

Romance has a wide appeal, but there are some stories that don’t benefit from romance. These include: stories with asexual and aromantic lead characters (people who do not experience sexual or romantic attraction)…characters who are equally worthy of being heroes with their own stories. Stories with lead characters who are at points in their lives where they are not ready for romantic relationships (Furiosa, Max). Stories in which a man and a woman work closely together, risk their lives together, would do anything for one another…but whose “love” need not be romantic love.

In some stories romantic love will make sense for the characters, the plot and the setting. In some stories, it won’t. While there will always be a market for a good old-fashioned love story, I believe that audiences also want to see other kinds of relationships on the big screen, the small screen, and in the stories they read.

Much More Than Meets The Eye

April 26, 2016

mary

Character Mary Pletsch Reader Investment & Empathy The Writing Life No Comments

Most people who grew up in the US (or Canada, the UK or Japan) in the 80s (or 90s or 00s) will recognize the names Optimus Prime and Megatron. The iconic Transformers hero and villain have regularly appeared on toy store shelves, in cartoons and comics, and in licensed merchandise for over 30 years.

Over those years, the toy line has spawned a vast number of characters, most of whom are known only to those who collect vintage toys. These characters appeared only briefly in cartoons–or only in comics–or only in UK comics–or existed solely as biographies on the boxes of their toys.

So why are these “D-listers” the stars of More than Meets the Eye, an ongoing comic book that’s won a Comics Alliance Award for both Continued Excellence in Serial Comics and Outstanding Writer for its author, James Roberts?

More Than Meets The Eye doesn’t rely on the nostalgia factor to keep its readers coming back each month. It’s the character work that makes the story shine: casting alien robots as people, with very human flaws, each one with their own reasons for ending up aboard a spaceship on a quest into deep space in search of the Knights of Cybertron, who may hold the key to a better future. May. Assuming they even exist. And assuming the crew ever manages to find them.

The quest is an archetypal framework; the real story is in watching the characters interact.. This is where D-list characters come into their own. With very little in the way of pre-existing character development as constraints, the characters grew and evolved to suit the story–and, indeed, much of the plot comes about as characters make decisions and their actions in turn affect others. There’s Brainstorm, the erratic “mad scientist” (always in competition with Perceptor, the rational scientist) who’s prepared to build a time machine and stop the Great War before it starts…not for philosophical reasons, not for personal power, but in the hopes of rescuing an unrequited love. There’s Tailgate, who lay forgotten through the entire war, and fabricates his own history in his search for attention and friendship–of course it’s only a matter of time before his lies catch up to him, and even in the second season he remains vulnerable to the manipulations of someone who hopes to use him to further his own schemes. There’s Swerve, metallurgist by trade, who would rather spend the quest running the ship’s unofficial bar and who struggles against his private depression. And there’s Chromedome, a mnemosurgeon who can read and alter memories (at great risk to himself) and his troubled but ultimately loving relationship with Rewind, the ship’s historian.

More than Meets the Eye is a comic that’s genuinely funny, deeply touching, sometimes tragic, always hopeful. It works because we genuinely care about these characters, wonder about their motivations, worry about their fates. This character work is possible because the creative team were freed from the constraints of what Transformers has so often been about–Optimus Prime and his heroic Autobots fighting against Megatron and his evil Decepticons in an endless robot war–and given the opportunity to explore what else the franchise could be. Over the course of the last few years we’ve seen the origins of the Great War, how it changed the characters, and how its aftereffects continue to shape the lives of beings who’ve spent so much of their lives in conflict. More Than Meets The Eye develops an alien society, with its own political movements and social classes and private concerns, and all this background comes out of how these factors affect the characters in the present.

As of Volume One, the war is over and a bunch of nobodies (with a few semi-familiar names: Rodimus, Ratchet, Cyclonus and Ultra Magnus) are heading off into space on a fool’s errand–this is where the story begins. It doesn’t require much familiarity with previous iterations of the franchise, and indeed, for those who can set aside the fact that the concept began as a toy-based property, you may discover the best sci-fi comic you haven’t been reading.

A familiar name is not, in itself, reason to care about a character. Neither is a cool concept, an action-packed plot or a setting rich in possibility. It’s character development that turns names into people–flawed, struggling, believable people, each with their own scars from their pasts and dreams for their futures. There’s more to all of them than one would guess at first glance (hence the delightful suitability of the title) and as the story progresses, those layers are revealed. When we see characters as people, people we come to know, we become invested in them and their stories. When we see that their actions not only affect the plot but drive it forward, we care about what they do. And when we wonder and worry about what will happen to our favourites, we keep coming back–issue after issue, year after year. After four years and counting, More Than Meets The Eye‘s nobodies aren’t nobodies any longer.

About Mary:

Mary Pletsch is a glider pilot, toy collector and graduate of the University of Huron College, the Royal Military College of Canada and Dalhousie University. She is the author of several previously published short stories in a variety of genres, including science fiction, steampunk, fantasy and horror. She currently lives in New Brunswick with Dylan Blacquiere and their four cats.

Sorry, Past Me

February 22, 2016

mary

The Writing Life No Comments

I grew up to write stories that were the opposite of what I wanted as a kid.

As a kid, I often found myself feeling frustrated by ambiguities in the stories I read. It probably didn’t help that I was reading books well above my grade level–here’s a hint, parents and guardians, your nine-year-old might not be emotionally ready for the graphic scenes in Timothy Findlay’s Not Wanted on the Voyage–but shock aside, I remember being irritated when I didn’t understand why characters were making the choices they did, or when I couldn’t tell if a character was a good guy or a baddie, or when a character I wanted to hate did a nice thing.

I want to write stories where everything is spelled out clearly. I’m not going to imply things that leave the reader guessing. I’m going to make sure my readers have the security of knowing exactly why characters make the choices they do and how they should feel about those choices. I’m going to write good guys who are perfect role models for everyone to imitate and bad guys who are always horrible.

I’m going to write stories that don’t have the same problems as my real life.

If I’d grown up to write the kind of stories I wanted as a kid, I doubt anyone would want to publish them. As an adult, I roll my eyes at the insertion of authorial voice telling me what I’m supposed to think about the characters–as though I can’t decide for myself who I sympathize with. But then again, maybe I don’t always sympathize with the so-called protagonists.

So what changed? Part of it was an understanding that came with maturity, that different people have different values. That different backgrounds and life experiences can cause two people to perceive the same event in strikingly different ways. That my own experiences weren’t “better” or “worse,” “more valid” or “less valid.”

And I began to develop an interest in fiction that showed me how other people thought.

If I’d had different life experiences, how would those have shaped my point of view? If I’d been born in another time, another culture, with a certain medical condition–without a certain medical condition–how would my life have changed? What did the world look like through the eyes of my family, my friends…my enemies?

Fiction was a way for me to explore and come to understand how different people thought. How someone didn’t necessarily have to be “wrong” or “a baddie” for two people to disagree. How very few people are consistently “good guys” or “bad guys” all the time, in everything they do. Even though fiction is make-believe, I learned a lot about empathy for other people by coming to understand how their thought processes worked and why they weren’t “bad” just for being different from me.

I also developed an appreciation for implication or suggestion. Open-ended questions left me thinking, pondering possibilities, looking for clues to support or deny my initial suspicions. And sometimes much of life is about learning to cope with the unknown and uncertain.

So now I write stories that give me the opportunity to look through someone else’s eyes. Sometimes aspects of these characters are much like aspects of my own personality; sometimes less so. I like the challenge of learning to understand the motivations, behaviour, and choices of people whose lives are very different from my own. I like to write stories in which both my protagonists and antagonists are following courses of action that make sense to them from where they stand.

Sorry, past me. I couldn’t write stories that were clearer than, more logical than, and “better than” real life. I had to write the stories that would help me understand and empathize in real life instead.