M.B. Pedersen's Blog

Today's story comes from the earliest days of the venerable Weird Tales Magazine, one that deals with the struggle of an artist and the thirsting horror that is his muse. For your pleasure, we exhume and present...

The story is about a young woman visiting a, for the period, very liberal mental healthcare facility, not quite an asylum, where she meets a feverishly energetic old man who claims to be a famous and controversial artist. The artist, the true protagonist of the story, tells her the story of his career, from his troubled youth to the first moment inspiration struck. That inspiration always comes at a price however, a toll paid for in blood and suffering.

Rud's plot for the story is a bit simplistic, that being a series of escalating incidents involving his artistic talent and the dark means through which he channels his muse. I think greater care could've been taken to build up the moments prior to him and his muse connecting, to build tension with foreshadowing and stronger built scenes. As it is, much of it is predictable, except the twist that we'll mention later. It does have good pacing, with the progression of the story making it easy to follow while the narrator's voice keeps things interesting.

The story lacks some common elements of fiction, being a mostly uninterrupted recounting of a character's personal experiences. While this provides a strong perspective from which to tell the story, it does sort of prevent any meaningful dialogue. It also prevents the character of the artist from really being expanded by a surrounding cast. We see him as he sees himself, and, likewise, we see how he perceives other characters perceiving him. Our entire world within the story is colored by his own ego, and he's a surprisingly honest and blunt narrator. This removes much of the uncertainty and mystery that advanced readers can look into. That said, the voice of the narrator is strong and I enjoyed reading what he had to say about his career and the circumstances that followed it. Maybe I'm just overly fond of creative geniuses with complicated upbringings...

I can also say that the twist was pretty chilling, demonstrating the depth of the artist's madness. It was a little obvious what was going to happen, however, but I still think it was a perfect ending to the story.

Honestly, I'm having a hard time giving this one a quantified rating. I genuinely liked it, but it does have a great number of problems that can't just be ignored. I think this week I'm going to eschew with the rating and just say that I recommend it. Look at it for the strength of voice and the expertly demonstrated pacing, but be mindful of its simplistic plot, lack of complex characterization, and the undeveloped mood. You can learn as much from what a story gets wrong as from what it gets right.

Today's story is a mixture of horror and fantasy, a dark tale with ghosts, eldritch gods, and human greed. I give you...

Robert E. Howard is best known for creating the iconic character of Conan the Barbarian, as well as other heroic figures, like Kull and Solomon Kane. Howard's descriptive prowess and strong character writing do show up in this story, about a haunted folklore scholar being blackmailed by an foolishly greedy treasure hunter. The pair find the titular cairn by the sea, and slowly discover the horrific truth buried beneath.

Like I said, the voice and characters within this story are great, even if the narrator's interactions with others is a little stiffly written. Honestly, it might be more accurate to say that the writing of the characters is stronger than the "dialogue." What I mean by that is the writing for each character is great as standalone prose, carrying with it the same poetic style that Howard puts in most of his stories, but when characters interact with each other it seems a bit off, like the interactions themselves are just poorly thought out glue holding together the big, beautiful blogs of spoken prose, which themselves turn out to just be exposition.

The imagery of the story works well with the plot, creating a strong sense of foreboding doom that bursts into a panicked rush towards the end. There's also a flashback that carries the usual strongly made descriptions of violence, devastation, and gore that can be found in most Howard stories.

I will say that the exposition is heavy and, while forgivable at first, starts to get a little out of hand as the story goes on. The main character is a scholar, so its not surprising that he'd know a lot about the artifacts and history of the area it is set in, but it completely drops the ball after the story's flashback. The vehicle for the flashback is brought up as an example of psychic phenomenon, which was never previously mentioned or hinted at prior to this. The flashback itself is probably the best part of it, which makes it a shame that its sort of shoehorned in.

Overall, the story is strongly written and interesting, but sadly not overly engaging. It suffers from a poorly assembled plot full of coincidence, exposition, and handwaves that work against the strong prose, characters, build up, and mood. I give it a 3/5, servicable but definitely not the best Robert E. Howard story.

I'd prefer to hide these parts of my short story reviews under the spoiler tags, but Goodreads Support has informed me that they don't currently work. Until then, I'll be hiding these spoilery bits exploring the monsters and horrors of the stories I review between two large, bolded warnings.

Now, on to business. As it turns out, the horror buried beneath the Cairn is in fact Odin, though he's remarkably different than his normal depiction. In the context of the story, he is a being born of the dark, one made into a deity by the grim Norsemen who live in darkness and violence. When he is resurrected, thanks to a sprig of holly worn by the story's villain, he sheds his more humanized form to reveal a creature made from pure cold and blackness, the very things his people, as I said, live in. This makes him two things; an elemental being, and an example of the rarely used subgenre of Mythic Horror, that being the use of mythical entities or tropes and mixing them with elements of horror. Here the concept of Odin is mixed with Celtic tradition, the ravager and the victim, in order to create a new story of dark fantasy. What other elements of ancient myth can be brought out to create new and fantastic stories?

Cairn's themselves are an ancient tradition that is just begging to be put into horror and fantasy stories. You can go the route that Howard takes in this story, having them be the burial place of something eldritch and terrible, or you can play with the idea, maybe subverting it to where a noble pagan entity is trapped and unable to stop some impending tragedy. Maybe the power that is kept there is fermenting, growing stronger in preparation for its inevitable release, or maybe the stones used to make the cairn possess some dark magical power themselves. Cairns carry strong emotion and imagery due to their relation to death, as well as their inherent ancientness, so it can be drawn on to strengthen the imagery and mood of your own story.

Time again for a Thursday Quote, where we look at writers and other sources for inspirational quotes to be applied to our writing. Today's quote comes from the author of Catch-22, and focuses on how universally challenging writing can be.

A simple quote, but there's a lot to take from it. For starters, established authors, no matter how famous and monolithic in pop culture they may seem, go through the same struggles that you, Billy First Draft (or whatever) go through. The frustration of writer's block, the stress of deadlines, the challenge of cleaning up a first draft, and every other step between you and a finished story, these are things that Stephen King, Tom Clancy, and every other household name goes through when they write. If you're ever stuck or feel your resolve wavering, just look at them and their accomplishments, and tell yourself that you can do it too.

This quote also shows that, while the challenge of writing a full draft may seem daunting, it can be done. It took Joseph Heller eight years to write his groundbreaking novel Catch-22, but he kept at it and eventually produced a work that had a lasting impact on American Culture. Like I've said before (well not me specifically, the same advice has been passed down by many writers), make a schedule, leave time to write, and approach it every day that you can. Whatever you're working on, in any genre or any medium, it can be completed if you go at a steady, comfortable pace.

Time once again for a Tuesday short story review. Today's story was a bit shorter than the previous ones I've read, so the length of this review will likely be short as well. Still, fiction of any length deserves to be read and analyzed.

Goodreads support has told me that the spoiler tags for the HTML coding this blog runs on currently do not work, so my articles may contain minor spoilers for the foreseeable future. I'll try not to give away anything too important while looking the narrative elements and tropes used in these stories.

Now, on to the main event...

The story takes place in a semi-dystopian America where the country has become dominated by a right-wing, dogmatically Christian society. The economy is crumbling, homelessness is pandemic, members of the LGBT community are being shipped off to reeducation camps, and the entire country is held in the grip of the military and the police, who are nearly indistinguishable from each other now. The story follows a conflicted man living in this society, racked with stress over the wildly escalating political climate, his failing marriage, his relationship with an old co-worker, and a far stranger problem...

The main character mentions that he has been losing weight, that things have been leaving his body. He's not sure what these are, but he knows that they're alive. Before he can do anything about them, these creatures born from his body scurry off to hide in the walls. He hears them though, whispering and moving, and he develops a grim suspicion that they are plotting against him. As he goes to meet with his lover, he discovers that he's not the only one suffering from this surreal ailment, and the implications of that revelation unsettle him deeply.

Right off the bat, I want to point out what a great job this story does of setting up its world building and tone in a concise manner. Not only does the character reveal information about himself in some early exposition, but its colored by his personality, and we as the reader get a better feel for who he is as a person as he begins detailing the world he has been thrust in. This turns an otherwise dull information dump into vital sections where we learn who he really is, through his thoughts on the world, the people in his life, and his actions.

With that said, the two aspects of the story seem very separate. The dystopian right-wing society doesn't tie in at all with the more personal story of the main character's rising paranoia caused by the little creatures spawned from his own body. We don't really get an explanation for them either, but that's secondary to the fact that the world of the story and the actual narrative don't seem to connect at all.

This next part is a bit spoilery, for which I WOULD use the spoiler tags, but since they're nonfunctioning I'm just going to barrel forward. The tiny creatures spawned from the main character and his romantic interest are interestingly grotesque, though personally I found them a little too alien. The fact that they come from humans made me originally think that they'd appear somewhat human themselves, like tiny, horrific homunculi. This would make the titular act of Autophagy more chilling, because it would reinforce the cannibalistic nature of the act. As they stand, they're just sort of gross alien things eating people, which we've seen. This is something we've seen before, and I feel it was a missed opportunity to make them like that.

Now, my interpretation may be incorrect, so feel free to correct me in the comments, but I can see how the tiny Autophages (not a term used in the story) connect with the theme of the dystopian culture. Things got to that point, with dogmatic morality controlling society to such a degree that premarital and extramarital sex is illegal, because people ignored the signs. They saw troubling things but ignored them, thinking that they were out of their hands or that they wouldn't inevitably snowball into something far worse. Little, tiny problems, but always in the foreground, always surrounding us, building up until they finally destroy us. I think that's a wonderful metaphor, and the bones of a great story are in Autophagy, but unfortunately the two parts of the story don't seem to connect that well together. There's no wider mention of the Autophages outside of the main character's own personal conversations and experiences, with all of the urban decay and moral degeneration easily being attributed to human beings simply being human (a line I stole from Brian Keene's The Darkness on the Edge of Town). Just because elements connect well thematically doesn't necessarily mean they do the same thing on a narrative level.

The political commentary in the story does pair fairly well with the story on a thematic level, narrative it feels like there are two stories going on that barely intersect. There is some great writing here, with good dialogue and believable emotion, but, again, the story itself is strangely disjointed. I'm also As such, my verdict on the story is a 2/5. I will be looking for more of Ray Garton's work, even if this story kind of missed the mark.

Well, after some technical difficulties with my last blog post, we're back with your average, unexciting Quotable Thursdays. Average and unexciting, except for the fact that today's quote comes from the master of mainstream horror, Stephen King. So, rather than build this up, let's just jump right into this.

This advice is pretty self-explanatory. I've met many people who wanted to write but never got motivated to get started. Their explanation is usually something along the lines of "I just don't have the time," or "I have all these ideas, but I'm not sure where to start." One sorry bastard I met was even more blunt with his reasons, saying "I'm afraid of rejection." I understand how rejection can be intimidating, and that making time in a busy schedule for writing can sometimes feel impossible. You're only going to get better by doing, so making time and overcoming your fears will absolutely lead you to become a better writer. It's also imperative that you put in the work and make those ideas you've got into something physical, because once they're on paper you're free to rework them until they're polished gems, all ready to begin impressing publishers with.

Let's not mince words, you are going to fail. You will face rejection, you will make mistakes, you might even make a fool out of yourself. I've done all these things, many, many times. Some of it hurt more than others, some of it, if I'm honest, I'm still pissed about. That's just the more recent stuff, though. The fact is I made those mistakes and learned from them, letting them help me as I moved forward with my career. I'm still learning, been learning a lot lately actually. Some of it comes from books, but a lot more of it comes from interacting with publishers and editors. You pick up on things when you work with other professionals in the industry, and often times its what you learn from mistakes, bad deals, and being outright screwed over that sticks with you the most. I might write a few posts on that subject in the future, but for now, whether you're just starting out or feeling your resolve waver, the best thing you can do is to move on, and get started on some new projects. That said, don't forget to finish what you started too, because starting may feel scary, but finishing... that can feel great.

I don't really want to give advice that could be from any other writer, but I will just leave a few suggestions I've received from other great writers. If you want to start small, try to set aside a little time each day to write 500 words at the least. For an experienced writer, this can take anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. If you're just starting out, don't feel pressured to get those 500 words down in one sitting. If you need to get up and get some things done, but you're only at 223 words, go ahead and come back to it later, though be sure to exercise some of that will power (a trait I myself an sorely lacking in) to come back and get to that 500 word mark.

If you have more time to devote to it, and want to start moving at a faster pace, set aside a couple hours in your schedule specifically to write. Don't bother with a word goal with this, just pick a time, make sure you give yourself enough of it to get the creative juices flowing, then let the words flow. This could be two or three hours a day, or longer periods just on the weekends. Find something that works for you, and keep track of how much words you produce at each sitting. I also recommend limiting distractions, because, let's face it, it's incredibly easy to say "I need to look something up" then lose an hour to pointless web surfing.

That's it for the quote and advice for this week, I hope you found it helpful. If you're not familiar with me, feel free to follow my page for more reviews, posts, and other assorted nonsense. Pointless self-promotion finished, see you all next week.

Good day fellow scribes and readers. Back after a very sudden and unexpected break from last week. Never fear, just some work related issues I had to handle.

So, without further ado, here's this week's review of...

Joe Hill's name has often come up for me when I've gone reading through the submission guidelines of magazines and anthologies. Editors say that they want contemporary urban horror, and have cited him as an author who produces the kind of stories they're looking for. I'm glad I've finally read something by him, because I can see that their praise and hunger for more work like his is completely well deserved.

Snapshot, 1988 is the story of a mechanically inclined teenager named Mike, a self-described "overweight geek", living in the year 1988. One day, while working on one of his inventions, he sees an old woman who used to clean his house stumbling through the street looking lost. He recognizes that she is obviously suffering from some Alzheimer like symptoms and steps up to help walk her back to her house. On their way there, she warns him in a conspiratorial whisper, telling him to watch out for the Polaroid Man, setting Mike on an adventure of self-discovery and supernatural horror.

One aspect of this novella that I really, really enjoy (and one that other writers should take note of) is how the dialogue exchanges between characters help to develop and express who they are as people. When writing first person narratives a lot of the characterization comes from the internal insights and reflections a character has with the people, events, and environment they interacts with. Another way of providing characterization, one that can help flesh out the entire cast of a story, is to demonstrate how your main character behaves and speaks with different characters. It allows for a fresh set of eyes to be applied to him, his appearance, and his actions, broadening the world it takes place and giving depth to not only the main character, but to the side characters that inhabit the world. Joe Hill makes great use of this narrative trick, giving each character a unique voice that reinforces Mike, the main character of Snapshot, 1988, feels about himself and the world around him. It makes the story feel very real, as though it is a snapshot taken from a town with living, breathing, vulnerable people. If I were grading this on a rubric, with each category of narrative elements getting its own rating, the character writing for Snapshot, 1988 would receive a definite 5/5.

The story is also very emotionally driven, capturing the feeling of bitter-sweet reflection that is the story's narrative style. He recalls the feelings dark sympathy he had when he watched someone who was once so very strong lose themselves to age and mental deterioration, the guilt of having not recognized someone's love and sacrifice, and the bitterness of having been failed by people who were meant to take care of him. These are very relatable feelings, at least to me. They give the story a dreary mood that slowly envelopes the reader, enhancing the developments of the plot.

As for the plot itself, I'm a little conflicted on it. There wasn't a single moment in the story that felt rushed or boring. The story has a kind of languid pace that moves from event to event in a very organic way, though the climax does happen quite early in the story. What happens later is an exploration of the aftermath, a slow and sorrowful withering that, in another story, I might've thought drawn out. It fits with the content and themes of this story however, and shows how well tied together it all really is.

Some of Mike's remembrances struck me as odd at first. They never failed to be interesting, and they certainly provided more information on what was like as a person, but part way through I was questioning their relevance. As I pressed on further into Snapshot, 1988, however, I began to see how these flashbacks (and flash forwards) tied into its somber themes and, to great effect, served to provide foreshadowing into some of the events near the story's conclusion. They eventually became an element of the story that I really enjoyed.

When I began these reviews, I wanted to be sure not to let out any spoilers that might discourage a reader from pursuing the stories I've been analyzing and enjoying. I don't plan on breaking that mission, but I do want to discuss some elements and tropes that tie in to the story's conclusion. So, the following spoiler portion of the review may become a recurring feature where I take a short moment to look at what makes the endings, whether it ends in a bloodbath or just a big monster, so fascinating.

<spoiler>The man with the Polaroid camera, who Mike comes to call the Phoenician, is immediately recognizable as a bad man. With a dead script tattooed across his body and a camera that sucks out memories, he very well could be a modern occult sorcerer, preying upon the vulnerable. He's essentially the medieval witch giving hapless villagers with her evil eye, but with a modern spin. Writers who are interested in writing urban or modern horror should look at this as an example of providing a new twist for old tropes.</spoiler>

<spoiler>What lurks within the camera the Phoenician uses is also an interesting example of eldritch horror crawling into the modern era. When the adult Mike drives over the camera, thus destroying it, he finds that it was merely the shell containing a black ooze with a demonic eye that looks within him. Exposed to the open air, it shrivels and hardens into a silvery metal. It then communicates to him, offering him everything he could possibly want if he just crafts him into a thinking machine, one of the "com-PUH-ters" that the modern age has produced. It promises to reveal every secret, every mystery, if he just gives it the body that can do this kind of work. He hucks it away in revulsion, and later dumps it into the ocean. Whether its a demon, eldritch abomination, or even some kind of wish granting fairy is never revealed, but it does present another example of how supernatural elements can be introduced through modern means. It was, essentially, a cursed camera, possibly bound in that form by the Phoenician. So then, what other appliances could be corrupted by techno-demons and leather clad warlocks, and what ways would they lash out to spread misery and suffering in the world of Modern Man?</spoiler>

Overall, I'm very impressed with Joe Hill's novella, and will actively be seeking out his work in the future. The magazine I read this from was heavily advertising one of his newest books, The Fireman, so that might be a good place to start. As for my poorly thought out quantifiable rating system (that I'm still unsure if I'm going to stick with), I have to give this story a resounding 5 out of 5.

Hello once again, and welcome to another Quotable Thursday post, where quotes from authors and others are presented and used to help us find ways to improve our writing, and thus our careers.

Today, we'll be going the route of the "other" with a quote I was given at my recent graduation ceremony at the University of Texas at Arlington. So, without further adieu...

Jeff Kovarsky was a Communications major who graduated from my university, and, sadly, I have no more information on him other than that. The words he shared with my class, however, can be universally applied to any field that someone might want to excel at.

I've managed to put together a moderately decent resume in my writing career, with a number of academic credits, years of professional experience in journalism, and, looking at my book list, a number of stories published. Still, now more than ever, I've been pushing myself to read writing manuals and guides, trying to peace together skills and information that I have, so far, not been able to gather through my own experiences. I also actively seek out other writers and talk to them about the craft, because there's no better resource than those who've already gotten the success that you yourself are trying to attain.

I've seen a lot of people, older individuals to be honest, being very skeptical and often outright hostile to new information and ideas. It's a really big shame, because I've seen how this affects their work, their businesses, and their personal lives. Ultimately, one should never be afraid to look for new answers to the questions they've been asking, seeking out information from others, and always be willing to put aside your ego in order to try something new or to take some advice from a colleague.

So, in terms of writing, go out and explore. Try new things yourself, experiment as much as you can, and track your successes and failures. On top of that, look for books that teach about writing, because if you find just one thing in a writing manual that you didn't know before, something you can carry with you throughout the rest of your career, then it was worth it. That, and go out and find living resources. Regardless of where you live, many local bookstores will have author events such as book signings and Q&A's. There's no better way of getting advice on writing and the publishing industry than talking to the people who live and breathe it every day.

Even this blog I'm writing is an attempt to share and spread information that could be helpful to young writers. So, ultimately, take advantage of every resource at your disposal, and never let petty vanity block you from that information that could mean the difference between a pile of rejection slips and a shelf full of your own published works.

Good evening, and welcome to another another exploration into short fiction. From the mundane, to the weird, and everything in between. This week we look at an older story from the pages of Weird Tales, one where evolution is let loose without restraint and men get a terrifying look at the world's future.

So, allow me to present...

Edmond Hamilton was a science fiction writer who wrote prolifically for Weird Tales, creating fiction that often dealt with world ending threats and consequences. He reportedly wrote over 80 stories for the magazine during its original run.

Evolution Island, released in 1927, follows the story of a passionate scientist studying evolution. He presents a lecture where he states that evolution is sparked by exposure to a certain type of radiation, and that he has plans to create a ray that can artificially produce this radiation. While he's initially mocked and labelled a fraud, he not only produces the ray but also designs it so that it can propel evolution forward and backwards. He shows the ray to a close friend and tells him that he and his assistant are traveling to an isolated Caribbean island to study the ray's effects on different forms of animal life.

The friend is uneasy at the frightening uncertainties proposed by the device, but the scientist goes through with his plan anyway, unleashing the full effects of accelerated evolution loose on the island, and bring about new and terrible forms of life that man was not ready to witness.

The story starts strong by presenting the scientist's lecture, both explaining the loose science that is the story's premise and giving the character an opportunity to characterize himself. This provides exposition in a way that doesn't seem tedious or unnecessary.

The story also has several moments of strong dialogue, using distinct character voices to make realistic exchanges and relationships. While dialogue is not used extensively in the story, it does successfully demonstrates how dialogue can be used to enhance characterization in short fiction.

Part way through the story, the perspective changes from a third person narrative to first person from the perspective of the scientist. This serves a similar function as the lecture at the start of the story, allowing him to provide information that is colored by his personality and fears. It's during this portion that Evolution Island earns its name. The scientist goes into great detail about the ray's effects on different forms of life, and he describes a menagerie of surreal and terrifying creatures. The descriptions are vivid, as is his recounting of what happened. What would've been an otherwise dry exposition dump by the omniscient narrator becomes the terrified and half crazy confession of a mad scientist, leading to both stronger descriptions and storytelling.

Throughout the story, Hamilton makes heavy use of foreshadowing and tension building that steadily rises until its climax. Once again, I'll avoid spoilers in these short story reviews to encourage those who haven't read the stories to pursue them, but the climax is incredibly well paced and satisfying. It demonstrates the power of the Evolution Island's tightly written plot, which shows how following traditional story structure can lead to a strong narrative. That's not to say experimental fiction can't have a good story, but traditional structure works for a reason, as evinced by Edmond Hamilton's commercial success with Weird Tales.

Overall Evolution Island is a very cinematic story, with its strong visuals, dialogue, and plot, making it a fantastic read. The combination of tension building and action also leads to a satisfying conclusion, and, for all these reasons, I give Evolution Island a resounding 5/5 stars. If you can find it in print or digitally, I definitely recommend reading this one.

This will be the first of what may well be many film reviews, as films are merely another medium through which stories can be told. I'm not sure if this will be a regularly scheduled weekly post, but Fridays will be the days I post such reviews.

For now, I present a review of...

Cinema in 2017 has so far been dominated by comedies and superhero films, with The Lego Batman Movie and Logan garnering critical acclaim and mainstream success. Perhaps because of this, Life, a science fiction/horror film directed by Daniel Espinosa, has been glossed over by general film goers. Released in US theaters on March 24, the film’s debut saw it reach fourth in the box office, behind Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, the Power Rangers reboot, and the lackluster Kong: Skull Island.

Such numbers would imply that the film did poorly, reflecting what was, in the eyes of mainstream audiences, another poorly made monster movie in space, but is that really the case?

The film follows the story of a group of astronauts on the International Space Station as they study a lifeform brought to them by a mars probe. The lifeform grows at an incredible rate, and they soon discover that it is a rapidly developing creature with cells that act both as brain cells and muscle cells. One doctor, played by the English-Nigerian actor Ariyon Bakare, is paralyzed from the waist down, and speculates that such an organism could be used to make great leaps in medical technology, perhaps even going so far as to render stem cells obsolete. The creature’s strength, intelligence, and capacity for growth go beyond anything the crew could’ve imagined, and they set out to prevent any possibility of the creature reaching Earth’s surface.

The cast of the film ably plays the various characters, not only working off of each other to help create believable interactions and atmosphere, but also giving each individual part a distinct personality which elicits genuine interest and concern from the audience. Science Fiction films that focus on violent alien organisms are typically viewed as having a dearth of character, with each actor essentially playing a walking meat sack for the monster to tear apart in some satisfyingly gruesome way. The cast goes beyond that, providing wonderfully concise and meaningful characterization that works with the film’s plot and action, rather than against it.

Special mention goes to two of the cast, the widely successful Ryan Reynolds, playing Roy Adams the system engineer, and the previously mentioned Ariyon Bakare, playing the paraplegic biologist Doctor Hugh Derry. The former, whose recent successes include the critically acclaimed Deadpool, brings his usual amount of charismatic humor to the majority of his scenes, but has the range to become more serious when events start to spiral out of the astronauts’ control. Ariyon Bakare, who has mostly had ancillary film roles until recently, provides what is probably the best performance in the movie. Knowing full well how the alien lifeform could not only impact the world, but also his own life, he displays a quiet obsession and attachment towards the CGI creature. This obsession leads to several scenes that help build up the tension, tension that erupts when Reynolds and Bakare partner together to make what is perhaps the most brutal scenes throughout the entire film.

The creature itself, dubbed Calvin by the world at large, is a unique and interesting antagonist for the space station’s crew. Rather than simply being a biological killing machine driven by pure bloodlust, as the staple horrors of films like Alien (1979), the he is shown to initially be a curious entity. When it’s true nature is revealed, Calvin demonstrates not only a penchant for overwhelming force, but also an ability to adapt, reason, and even make use of tools to interact with its environment. At least, it does this in the first half of the film. During the second half, when Calvin has grown a bit larger, he seems to rely more on the stock strategies of trapped animals, that being surprise attacks and brutality. Without giving away too much, it does leave some ambiguity over the depth of Calvin’s intelligence, whether or not it is sentient or simply a clever animal.

Life is, of course, rated R, a bold move by the producers of the film. Film studios in modern cinema have been somewhat reluctant to give filmmakers the freedom that comes with the R rating, mostly due to the fact that it precludes younger demographics from being able to purchase tickets. Throwing caution to the wind, the filmmakers were able to take advantage of the rating to great effect. The pressure built by the tension and tight spaces of a space station pays off well throughout the majority of scenes, being punctuated by the brutal, horrific climaxes that leave the audience cringing long after they’ve happened. Director Daniel Espinosa shows a great understanding of how to build scenes emotionally, and the whiplash needed to create horror scenes that aren’t simply shocking, but also satisfying.

Perhaps one of the greatest examples of this, and one which I hesitate to give any details on, is the film’s conclusion. The way it is built up and executed is masterful, and will leave audiences in stunned silence. It definitely leaves an impression, which is always the sign of a truly great film.

It should be mentioned that there is a bit of a lull as the film approaches the third act, with a great amount of time spent with overly expositional dialogue. This is done primarily to explain how to stop an alien life form which has consistently outmaneuvered the astronauts, and it eventually leads to the film’s conclusion, which, once again, is phenomenal.

One of the more glaring problems the film has is a camera trick used during the second and third acts of the film. During some of the moments where Calvin is chasing the surviving astronauts the camera turns to a POV shot from his perspective, making the screen green and distorted at the edges as it rushes through the dark scenery. This causes a problem for two reasons, one of which is it’s just plain silly. These chase scenes are intended to be the culmination of the tension created by the threat of the alien and the oppressive, claustrophobic environment the actors are trapped in. The goofy, fisheye lens style cinematography completely destroys this atmosphere. Ultimately, that kind of shooting style belongs solely to comedic films, or any film with a wacky drug trip.

That, and this is more a conceptual criticism than a technical one, but by showing things from Calvin’s perspective he loses his sense of enigmatic presence. From the scenes in the first act and early portions of the second, Calvin is a completely unknown element. The crew does not understand how it thinks, and neither does the audience. This helps to further build the tension throughout the film, because with that unpredictability comes the fear of when it will next jump onto the screen. The audience doesn’t even really know how this creature sees the world around it, reinforcing how alien it really is. Then the POV shots pop up, wholly killing the mystery of Calvin.

Still, despite a dragging second act and very questionable cinematography, Life manages to be an intense and thrilling foray into the darker side of the science fiction genre. To quantify it, the film is an outstanding four out of five stars, and any lovers of science fiction, aliens, or intense thrills should definitely seek it out.

Welcome to what will be the first of many weekly Thursday posts. Quotable Thursdays will be a series of posts revolving around a quote from a particular person, using said quote to hone in on a particular aspect of writing. Now, these persons will have a diverse background. Many, if not most, will be a authors, but others could be journalists, artists, celebrities, historical figures, fictional figures, and even people I know personally. So, here's our first quote.

What this essentially means is you, as a writer, need to constantly be working ideas in order to submit them to publishers. You need to be proactive, going out and searching for publications that your ideas would be a good fit for, or, better yet, coming up with ideas for publications that you know and are familiar with. I'm sure everyone has been guilty of bitching about the challenges inherent with the industry, or about the fickleness of the muse, but the energy wasted on said bitching could be much better spent on your projects.

Now, upon immediate study of this reading this quote, one would think that it only applies to journalism. It certainly proves accurate, given my own experiences. One of the best ways to work regularly with a newspaper or publication is to make yourself indispensable and to freely share your ideas with an editor you've worked with in the past, within reason. Sending a bunch of poorly organized and half baked ideas will likely annoy them, but, if you take the time to develop your ideas and plan out how to meet them, you can make pitches that demonstrate your knowledge of your chosen topic and how diverse your ideas can be.

I won't go into the nitty gritty details of how to submit to a magazine or other publication, you can find out how to do that through many other sources and, often times, at the websites of whatever publications you might be interested in. What I will say is that pitching ideas is what a writer does. A lot of the time you'll have the benefit of having a complete manuscript, allowing story/article to speak for itself, but you should be equally adept at being able to supply editors with ideas for stories that they can mull over, then pass on or accept at their leisure. Even if an idea you submit doesn't click with one editor, keep trying to other applicable ones, and that editor will probably remember you when you try submitting again. Writing as a career is about making connections with other professionals in the industry, and a pitch is the equivalent of a first impression. Make it as good as you can.

This concept is also equally applicable to fiction submissions or pitches as well. If there's an open call for stories, be it at a magazine, an online outlet, or an anthology, and you have one that fits, I suggest submitting as soon as you've had the opportunity to polish your manuscript. The more manuscripts you have circulating the more confident you'll feel.

Submitting more frequently will inevitably lead to more rejection slips coming in, which, believe me, can be taxing. Despite this, I urge any writer of any skill level to keep trying and to dedicate themselves to submitting their work professionally. I myself was rejected over 70 times before I got my first story published, at the age of 20 no less. Even if you don't get an acceptance letter for some time, there are a number of rewards that may not be immediately apparent.

Among these benefits are the simple fact that you'll gain more experience dealing with submissions. Whether it's writing a cover letter or formatting your manuscript, there are a number of aspects of submitting a piece that you only discover through the actual act of submitting. You also become familiar with a publication through doing this, finding out their editors' names, how long it takes for them to respond, and what sort of rejection letters they send (IE: automated, personal, or, very rare, personal with feedback). These can be used for later on when you submit a different manuscript to them. There's also the fact that if your name pops up in their slush pile repeatedly, the editors there are probably going to start remembering you. This will be helpful when you start working with that publisher after your first manuscript is finished.

Overall, putting yourself out there is how you get critical, unbiased feedback, and it's better than malingering around. Wallowing doesn't get much done.