sara ryan

Recently sighted

Sidewalk chalk enhances a bit of Central Library’s exterior:

The art below is on display at The Observatory; unfortunately I didn’t spot the artist’s name, but if anyone knows, please to comment. The detail that appears to be a hair ornament is actually the reflection of one of the hanging lamps; I liked the way it echoes the shape around the spoon-in-the-process-of-being-bent.  

 

And in case you thought I’d stopped spotting street art, here’s a mixed media example:

 

Sometimes yoga is about writing.

It is kind of springlike around these parts. I returned from elsewhere, also known as Salt Lake City, where I was fortunate enough to enjoy the hospitality of Ms. Sara Zarr. We recorded an episode of her This Creative Life podcast which you might like to hear. I met a whole bunch of other nifty SLC authors. I also wrote quite a lot of words, for me. Of course as soon as I got back the usual deluge of domestic tasks and dayjobbery descended and it became, unsurprisingly, more difficult to write lots of words every day. (Although I’ve managed some words every day, and I have, indeed, not broken the chain.) Today I’d been feeling cranky and out of sorts about this relative lack of words, and how slowly the writing was going, and my chronic inability to estimate how long any particular writing project will take. I needed to write more, but it was time to go to yoga, and I’d missed several classes while I’d been away, so I went. And the teacher talked about the importance of showing up. How some days the practice will be effortless and sweet, and others it will seem like nothing works and you can’t get yourself where you’re supposed to be, and everyone else is more flexible, and what you’re doing is totally not worth it. But that it’s always worth it, even when — maybe especially when — it feels like it isn’t. Effort, sustained over time, she said, can make great change.

Another Commonplace Book: XIX

Everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked: storytelling lessons from Avatar the Last Airbender

I’d been hearing praise for Avatar: the last Airbender (link is to the show’s Wikipedia entry, so if you’re new to the show, ‘ware spoilers) for a long time before I finally started watching. Once I did, I couldn’t stop. As with other shows with which I’ve become obsessed, I was simultaneously enjoying it as a fan and learning from it as a writer.

Good research builds better worlds. The Avatar creators drew inspiration from multiple sources. (This article attempts to catalog them.) One example: the central conceit of the world is bending; martial arts involving the ability to manipulate air, water, earth, or fire — or in the case of the Avatar, all four elements. Each style of bending is inspired by a real-world martial art. As a result, the styles are both internally consistent and quite distinct from each other, and this makes bending itself seem more real. (Real enough that there are numerous ‘airbending lesson’ videos on YouTube.)

Shifts in tone can work. Sometimes Avatar is deeply goofy. Sometimes there are dramatic action sequences. Sometimes it’s poignant. Often, it’s all three within a single episode. It works because the shifts feel genuine, not jarring. Humor cuts tension, action sequences ratchet it up again, and poignant moments strengthen the viewer’s connection to the characters.

An intergenerational cast expands your options. Although most of the main cast members are young, there are important older characters, most notably Iroh, Prince Zuko’s uncle. Iroh’s age gives weight to his role as a mentor and provides a stronger link to the world’s history, for the simple reason that he’s lived through more of it. Iroh embodies the capacity for change and growth that other characters eventually learn.

Callbacks are a fine way to reward fans’ attention. ’Callback’ is one of my favorite terms of art. It comes from standup comedy, and it means a joke that refers to a previously established joke or premise. Avatar does this to notable effect with a variation on the Fruit Cart trope.

You can’t go wrong with a flying bison. Admittedly, you can’t put a flying bison in your own writing unless a. you work for Nickelodeon, b. you are writing fanfic or c. you are Gene Yang. But by extension: animal characters, particularly animal characters that fulfill multiple functions — Appa’s include but are not limited to transportation, defense and emotional support — can add warmth and depth.

But none of these lessons work unless you combine them, as Avatar does, with the most important one: respect your audience.