Jim’s Caesarian Sectionby jimbutcher on Mar.31, 2011, under Jim Butcher and Patrick RothfussLet me begin by stating, once more, how much I can’t stand you, Pat. You write gorgeous, lyrical, freaking poetic prose in one moment and then shift to gritty, hard-boiled clear and precise action scenes then BACK to the flipping poetry without breaking stride. And I just HATE that.
I just wanted that to be right up front about my feelings. I will, from this point, attempt to beat my hatred down and comport myself like a professional and a respectful member of of some notional society that doesn’t hate Pat with a seething passion.
While I am not yet a cyborg, I am looking forward to sufficiently advanced wetware to make that a reality! Though I suppose that if I keep on larping the way I do, I might blow out a knee or an ankle or something, and be forced to get an implant to replace it, in which case I would qualify.
That has nothing to do with my writing, though. THAT comes from the voices. I mean, shah, obviously!
Gotta say, the real question isn’t ever about being a good father and a writer. Or a good father and an anything. It’s how do you be a good father, period.
I asked my dad about that, before he died and he gave me the right answer: You just love them. Everything else flows from there.
(Which I thought was pretty darned poetic for a steel worker.)
Personally, I like applying the Julius Caesar model to my parenting and to my blogging: divide and conquer. If you have multiple problems, sometimes you solve them by making them go at one another. I, too, was having problems feeling connected to the kid, and as a result, I actually embraced his stupid video games, and what happened? HALO, bay-bee. HALO. Changed my freaking life, learning to play HALO with my kid.
And after he taught me HALO? I taught him Tribes. He showed me how to rock Army of 2? Then I showed him how to GET rocked by the aliens in UFO X-Com! We both had a blast. We talked, compared, competed, and spent an inordinate amount of time laughing at and with one another.
Awesome. Two of the questions responded to, booya!
The problem isn’t that modern video games suck. There’s just a lot more of them than there used to be, and by sheer quantity comparison, there is much more suck to be had. The good games, old or new, remain good.
I wonder what happens if you apply the same thought to fantasy and science fiction? Does modern fantasy just plain suck compared to the great old bastions of the genre? Or do the oldies, like high school, only /appear/ to look better the further down the road you get from them?
Okay, I don’t blog much and I’ve never used WordPress–here’s hoping this works!
In the comments section:
DanielF
April 1st, 2011 on 12:08 am
“Does modern fantasy just plain suck compared to the great old bastions of the genre? Or do the oldies, like high school, only /appear/ to look better the further down the road you get from them?”
No. As a proportion, probably roughly the same sucks as is great. We’ve just forgotten all the dross off the 19th and early-to-mid 20th centuries whilst we have EVERYTHING of the modern era. I like the 16th century as an example: Everyone knows about Shakespeare, perhaps even Marlowe, but how many people know about Ben Johnson? In the future, the outstanding greats of today - the Tolkeins - will remain read and discussed, whilst the not-so-muchs (insert your favourite author to hate on here! ;-)) will have fallen by the wayside… as they deserve.
jimbutcher
April 1st, 2011 on 2:47 am
I’ll be one of those guys on the wayside, yeah. I have no illusions about the ongoing value of what I write–and all the pop culture references are going to go stale in what amounts to short order for book lifespans.
But that’s fine by me. I’m not trying to write literature. I’m trying to write popcorn. Smart, /good/ popcorn, the best popcorn I can possibly create, but popcorn! I’m doing entertainment, not lit-tra-cher.
I think that Pat has a real shot though, for the long-term big time. I’m a decent craftsman, and I can keep the pages turning–but his writing /sings/.