I recently wrote a post on the urban fantasy genre and how it can be a lot trickier to work the paranormal into the real world and have it be believable than most people think. The true mark of understanding in the genre is when you can read a book set in our world and have critters like vampires and werewolves make sense in the context of the story.
Of course, vampires would work with the Defense Intelligence Agency. If any government group is going to know about vampires, it’s DIA. That’s exactly the kind of thing they’d find out about and vampires, justifiably, would be leery of working with them.
It’s the little details like those that can make a good urban fantasy story pop. Lori’s smoking – she’s dead, after all, it’s not like she’s going to get cancer – and drinking, the fact that she’s not 100% on board with being a vampire, and her moral flexibility all add to the gritty realism of a world where vampires are real, werewolves are real, and at least part of the government knows about it.
I guess that’s one of the things that doesn’t ring true about a lot of stories where vampires are running around doing vampire things and absolutely no one knows about it. It would only take a handful of people being drained of blood before even the most jaded cop would wonder if the stories were true.
So that’s the world of Prey Till The End, S.L. Eaves’s latest brilliant mix of urban fantasy, thriller, and horror story. I reviewed Dead And Damaged a little over a year ago and found it a cracking good story about how vampires and werewolves would be excellent fodder for any number of secret groups that would absolutely love to use that kind of genetic material to make super soldiers.
In Prey Till The End Lori, our protagonist from the previous book, finds herself stuck between an alpha werewolf who wants violent revenge, a rogue group of vampires doing nasty vampire stuff, and the purebloods that will kill every vampire if the rogues aren’t stopped.
Through her eyes, we see a world that looks and smells real. It’s soaked in booze and reeks of cigarettes, the coppery scent of blood, and the musky smell of werewolves. S.L. brands Prey Till The End as the final installment in the Endangered Series. Maybe that’s the case, and I can certainly understand the desire to move onto other things, but I’d like to see more of Lori’s life (death, she’s a vampire) in the future, even if it doesn’t follow on with the theme of the rest of the stories.
This is a really good, just like the previous one, and it’s nice to see someone taking classic monsters – vampires and werewolves – and doing more than making soft-core erotica with them. S.L. has created a great twist on the traditions and not only brought those creatures into our world, but managed to make the fantastic seem real without feeling mundane.
If you like action tinged with horror and topped with a thriller cherry, check these books out. They’re great and great fun.
The 3rd installment brings the The Endangered Series to a gripping conclusion that will keep you on the edge of your seat till the last page.
Seven years have passed since Lori exiled herself from her clan. Seven years without bloodshed, without demons, without torture, without premonitions. Seven years of peace and quiet in the civilian life she’s cultivated for herself.
Seven boring years.
Then Vega appears at her doorstep with alarming news: a former member of his clan is responsible for the recent string of homicides across the southwest and the Purebloods are holding her clan responsible. To make matters worse, this traitor is working with an enemy from Lori’s past who is hell bent on revenge.
Now she’s faced with returning to the world she’s tried so hard to escape in order to save the only family she has left. Lori finds unlikely allies in a slayer and a werewolf hybrid, both survivors of S&D Pharma’s experiments. Together they fight to stop the vampire’s killing spree and absolve her clan from the Pureblood’s wrath. That’s if a ghost from her past doesn’t succeed in stopping her first.
This is the full text of a guest post I did on Rebecca Cahill’s blog back in September. If you get a chance, drop by and say, “Howdy” or whatever floats your goat. She’s got a great blog and it’s worth checking out.
Back in high school, I had a buddy who thought outside the box. I’ll call him CD to protect his identiy. CD used to write random thoughts, some of which were funny, others thoughtful, and try to sell them to the Jehovah’s Witnesses who came to his door. In his mind, if they were going to try to sell copies of The Watchtower to him, he was going to sell his own magazine to them.
He never did manage to sell any magazines, but he’s been a wealth of stories for me.
One day during a college break, we were sitting in the McDonald’s in the local Walmart and shooting the breeze. It would seem he had a lot of free time on his hands in college and decided on the ultimate way to pick up women at the bar. He was going to buy an Armenian Air Force uniform he’d found somewhere and try to convince people he’d flown Harriers during the Falklands War.
Yes, this was a long time ago. Thanks for asking.
Since he couldn’t do a British accent to save his own butt, he’d come up with some non-distinct, but vaguely foreign-sounding accent. He’d been observing the foreign students at UNM and had discovered a way to really sell his story. If someone were to ask him a question, he’d pause briefly, like he was translating the question from English to whatever language he was pretending to be fluent in, before answering.
“You really flew Harrier jump jets during the Falklands War?”
Pause. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
I don’t know if he ever tried it in real life, but I’m guessing probably not. However, if you ever come across a guy in a bar wearing an Armenian Air Force uniform and claiming to have flown Harriers during the Falklands War, tell him I said hi and remind him he’s got a wife at home who may or may not know about his past life.
CD’s attention to detail in building a character for the sole purpose of picking up women at dive bars in Albuquerque, New Mexico shows the level of effort that should go into writing characters and, more importantly, the way characters interact with the world you’re creating. It’s the little things that sell characters. Little vocal quirks, like pausing before speaking, add a depth of realism that you just can’t get by slapping some words on a page.
Now, this little diatribe of mine is less about character creation and more about dialogue. Unfortunately, those two things are very intertwined with each other. Also unfortunately, the dialogue aspect of character creation is one of the easiest things to completely screw up. How many times have you come across an excellent narrative only to have it nosedive the first time a character talks?
“I would never do something like, for in doing that, I have forgone my something.”
Seriously, who talks like that?
Writers tend to be introverts. Not always, but there’s definitely a trend that way. You can’t spend the day hammering away at a typewriter, smoking, and swilling whisky like it’s fitness water if you’re extroverted. Don’t get me wrong, introversion can be a good thing. It’s hard to craft worlds and create things to put in those worlds when someone wants to, you know, talk and do stuff.
I’m talking to my characters, thank you very much.
When we spend too much alone – whisky doesn’t count as an interactive friend – we start to forget what people are really like. Before you yell, “So what?” and start throwing things at the computer, remember this: regular people are the ones you’re trying to sell books to. And regular people like to see things that look real to them. As we’ve already established, one of the best ways to make a character look real is through the way they talk.
But dialogue is more than just character development, it serves other important purposes in a book. Everyone loves to say, “Show, don’t tell”, and dialogue is one of the best ways to do that. If you’ve got exposition to handle, try letting the characters talk about it. If there’s a complex plot substructure or twist, let the characters explain it rather than resorting to a few paragraphs explaining why something happened.
“You mean the minions of Hell aren’t really bad guys so much as misunderstood folks that have been the victims of a multi-millennium smear campaign propagated by a group that had a profit motive?”
“Exactly! These guys aren’t the real bad guys, those guys over there are!”
“My God! It was Old Man Jenkins leading them all along!”
Okay, not exactly my best dialogue, but you get the point. Let the characters do the heavy lifting when explaining things. It makes for more interesting writing and, let’s face it, it’s a time-honored tradition. Just ask Aristotle.
Now we’ve got a couple good reasons to work with dialogue in a story: character development and showing rather than telling. The problem is, if your dialogue isn’t realistic, no one will read it and all your time spent putting your characters in Armenian Air Force uniforms and letting them explain the dynamics of your world will be for naught.
So, how do you write realistic dialogue? Well, fortunately, that’s the easy part. It does require a modicum of effort, but it’s effort well-spent. Go back to that idea that regular people read books and they want to read about people that seem real. Then go listen to some real people talking. Bada bing, bada boom, you’ve got the makings of good dialogue.
The real world, no matter how irksome it may be sometimes, is full of examples of how to write good dialogue. The first thing you have to do is toss aside all the rules of grammar that we’re all supposed to adhere to when we’re writing. Follow the rules in the text, but realize people don’t speak in grammatically correct sentences. People talk over each other, they use contractions and colloquialisms, conversations wander, points don’t always go where we think they’re supposed to go. Sometimes people forget their points entirely.
My buddy in college and I could spend all night talking. This was back before texting and when Geocities was still a thing, so talking was a good way to pass the time waiting for the damned modem to connect. Our conversations went all over the place and outsiders had trouble keeping up. One night, he, his girlfriend, and I were all out by the fountain chatting and looking at the stars. As per usual, the conversation drifted all over the place like a drunken frat boy and his poor girlfriend was feeling a bit lost.
“You guys shift topics constantly,” she said, “how do you do that?”
“Yep,” I replied, “We shift gears so fast…”
And then I lost my witty retort and ended with the lame-ass “we go really fast.”
“We shift gears so fast…we go really fast.”
I swear, I actually had something for that and lost it mid-sentence. Poof. Gone. Vanished. I want to say my buddy wrote that whole scene into a book of his own.
People do that kind of thing all the time. Conversation is rarely linear, sometimes doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, and almost never follows the grammatical rules that govern writing. If you want to make your dialogue more realistic, listen to people talking and use what you learn. Toss aside the monologuing, kick the perfect sentence structure to the curb, and revel in all the things you don’t get to do in the main part of the text.
You’re not supposed to use “ain’t” in good writing because it’s not a word? People use it all the time, so stuff it into dialogue. Do you love thinking in run-on sentences, but worry about getting tagged by grammar Nazis? Let a character babble away. Give them linguistic quirks like pausing before talking or saying “Okay” a lot at the end of sentences. Christoph Fischer did an excellent job with this in his book In Search Of A Revolution. In that book, Fischer had a character repeat words when he was stressed or otherwise out of his element. “No, no, no. That’s not what’s supposed to happen.” Things like that.
The trick here is that the dialogue must fit the character. It’s unlikely you’ll ever have an aristocrat use the word “ain’t”, but it ain’t outside the realm of possibilities if you develop the character that way. This is where you embrace the character with all his or her flaws and really dig into their head. Remember, just like real people, characters reveal their natures through not only what they do, but what they say, so the dialogue has to fit the psychology of the character. Since you created the character, you’re the ultimate arbiter of whether a line of dialogue fits a character’s development. As long as you as a writer don’t look at what your characters are saying and think it’s out of character, it’s unlikely anyone else will, either.
One gotcha here: a character’s linguistic quirks and dialogue have to remain intact throughout the whole of the book or story. I had a character in a recent book who I decided shouldn’t use contractions. The last few pages of the story explained why, so it became important that none of his dialogue had a contraction. It was nightmarish looping through the whole text and verifying Chan never shortened his words.
In the end, it might pay off or it might not. It’s possible, that was something most people will ignore or not even notice. That may be a perfect example of taking a linguistic quirk too far, but it did differentiate his dialogue from the rest of the characters who cursed and used contractions with reckless abandon, so it wasn’t a complete waste.
Let your characters live and breathe. Sure, dress them in Armenian Air Force uniforms and let them claim to have flown Harriers, but if you want to make them real, it’s their dialogue that will do that. Pay attention to how people really talk and you’ll be well on your way. Don’t be afraid to copy conversations from your best friend in high school or the quirks your boss gets when she’s mad that the project still isn’t done. Take all those things and weave them into the story. Observe the world and use what you find to enhance your writing. Your dialogue will be that much more realistic because it’s based on real conversations.
Twitter catches a lot of crap for being the digital version of the Wild Wild West. While that may be partially true in a “not racists, but #1 with racists” kind of way, that doesn’t mean the whole shebang is a shit-show. And, to be fair to Twitter, they’ve nuked a bunch of White Supremacist groups. There are plenty of good reasons to explore Twitter and a lot of good things can be found there, too.
At the very least, you’ve got #caturday, so you can haz cheezburger if you’d like.
I’ve used Twitter for a variety of writing-related reasons, ranging from seeing what’s out there and dropping ads, to playing the writing prompt games.
A couple posts back, I wrote a post about the idea of getting better at things by doing them a lot. Like most of my posts, it was a rambling affair, full of magic and heroism that talked around the issue as much as engaging it. That post was partially a reaction to various people I’ve met who worry about not being good enough at writing to write a book. To those people, I’ll reiterate: Yeah, you’re probably not, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t just write the freaking thing even if you’re not an expert at writing. Do something often enough, look for a feedback loop, and, if you take the feedback into account, you’ll likely get better at it.
In other words, just start writing. The more you do it, the more natural it will become. Pay attention to criticisms, provided they’re not completely useless, and you’ll improve. Simple as that.
Now here’s something else to add. When I first started programming, I followed the directions in the book and things happened and I was happy. But, I didn’t really learn to program until I had to sit down and write an application that I didn’t get to choose and I didn’t have the book with handy-dandy directions to follow. It was just “write me a service that will listen for GPS data from trains, figure out where they are, and determine how far off schedule they are based on position and time.”
That’s when the rubber hit the road. Or the wheels hit the iron. Whatever.
The point being, I didn’t get good at it until I had to do something where I didn’t get to choose what the program was going to do. There was also a lot of feedback from the customer about what things were working, what weren’t, and how many things needed to be changed. In the end – such as it is – I wrote what they wanted and got a whole whack of new skills in the process.
Which loops us back to Twitter. In the midst of all the cat pictures and ass-random presidential tweets, lies a pretty large group of authors swapping lines back and forth. Do a little digging and you’ll find people tagging tweets with things like #musemon, #2bittues, #1linewed, #thurds, #fictfri, #slapdashsat, and #sunwip. To the unitiated, those may sound like gobbledygook, cockamamie nonsense, or flat-out flumadiddle, but the tags have meaning to the authors that partake in them.
See, Twitter is a vast wasteland and it’s impossible to take in the whole of it, so it’s segmented by hashtags that create little sub-worlds withing the vast miasma of the whole of Twitterdom. Once you learn about those hashtags, you get the keys to the kingdom.
Most of these hashtags have rules. They’re not simple “write whatever you feel like and toss a tag on it” games. Each week, the person responsible for the tag determines a theme for the week. It could be thankful or half-full or angry or whatever. All except #slapdashsat, that’s always theme-free. So, each person that tweets and tags that tweet is expected to follow the theme. In a pure world, you’d find a line from whatever you’re writing that fits and use that. Sometimes, that line doesn’t exist, though, and that’s when the rubber hits the road.
Just like with programming, you can learn a lot from writing according to a spec, even if it is a one-word spec. So, whenever I don’t have a line that will fit, I write one that fits the tag and the book I’m working on. In case you’re wondering, most of those tweets will wind up in the book in some form or another.
Now, part of my morning ritual is going over the tweets from the one or two tag games per day I follow and putting up my own tweets. It’s been a great way to see if I can work a word or phrase into whatever I’m working on or sharing something I’d already used in a story. There’s something about being put on the spot that’s helped me craft a few zingers here and there and the process has improved my writing by making me think beyond just what I feel like doing.
Besides, remember that feedback loop that’s so important to getting better at a thing? In the Twitterverse, that feedback comes from likes, retweets, and the odd comment. Hashtag games have become a great way to test lines in front of a group of people I’ve never met and see what works and what doesn’t.
Feel like trying it out? Dig up the hashtag games for the day and post a few tweets. Who knows, maybe you’ll strike gold.
"Let me just say, I wake up every day thankful that I'm married to the sexiest, craziest, most powerful witch that ever was."#SunWIP
As kind of a corollary to last month’s post, police in Delaware have been giving out incredible numbers of citations in recent weeks, but it’s not as bad as it seems.
America’s cops have a bad reputation. Some of it’s deserved, some of it not, but it’s undeniable that a lot of US citizens look at the police less as a peacekeeping force and more as a group of armed thugs with the full backing of the law on their side.
This reputation didn’t spring up over night and it’s not limited to the criminal element in our society. Random shootings, entrapments, breaking into the wrong house, racial profiling, and a whole host of other bad ideas have engendered a sense of hostility between the police and the people they’re supposed to protect. It’s only made worse when the police in question usually get away scot-free, leaving folks nervous and on the defensive.
Unfortunately, the police response to this negative publicity is usually to shrug their shoulders and say, “So?”, which just makes matters worse.
The thing is, most cops are good people. I’ve had very few interactions with the police – largely because I’m not a criminal – but I’ve usually found them to be pretty good people with tough job. And, as I’ve said before, I respect anyone who gets up in the morning, puts on a uniform, and says, “I’m going to put myself between the bad guys and you.”
But, as any cop can tell you, it’s really bad when the people you’re trying to protect don’t trust you. It makes an already tough job even tougher. So, it’s nice to see some police are slowly coming around to the idea of improving their negative image.
Recently, in Middletown, DE, police officers gave out an unprecedented amount of citations. Seriously, they were busting people left and right and handing out tickets like they were candy. But this time it was different. The citations were for performing random acts of kindness and the cost of the ticket was the perp got a free turkey.
“Hey, punk, I saw you helping that old woman with her groceries. Here’s a reward.”
As far as I’m concerned this is a double-whammy of cool. It helps the cops seems like humans and it also encourages people to do the right thing. And all at the cost of a turkey.
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And now, your moment of Zen.
Addendum, 11/26. I just realized I forgot to add the moment of Zen. So now, here’s your moment of Zen.
There’s a theory out there that states in order to become an expert at something, you have to have 10,000 hours of practice at it. This theory was shot to the world by Malcolm Gladwell in his 2008 book, Outliers. The general gist of Gladwell’s book was there are people who are exceedingly good at doing stuff and what did it take for them to get really good at it? He did some research and used (or misused, depending on who you talk to) the research Anders Ericsson did into what makes people masters of stuff.
Gladwell theorized that at 10,000 hours of practice of doing something, you hit this magical tipping point of greatness and automatically became an expert it by virtue of having done it a whole lot. Outliers became a huge best seller. It’s still sitting at #664 in Amazon’s best sellers. That’s not in a particular category, either, it’s #664 in all of Amazon.
Not bad for a nine-year-old book. Especially one based on a faulty interpretation of what Anders Ericsson’s research actually said. You see, Outliers had some flawed logic in it and that magical 10,000 hour tipping point to greatness isn’t quite so carved in stone as Gladwell would have us believe. In fact, Ericsson’s research didn’t show a 10,000 tipping point and it showed some people could become masters in significantly less time than 10,000 hours, while others could take upwards of 25,000 hours to become masters. A lot of it comes down to not only how much you practice doing something, but how you practice doing it. In other words, quantity of practice isn’t as important as quality of practice. 10,000 hours of doing something wrong will just encode that bad behavior. Practice doesn’t make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect.
Now, I’m not trying to dog on Malcolm Gladwell or in any way diminish his work. Not that he gives two tugs of a dead dog’s dick what I think about him, but even though his logic may have been on the flawed side – something even Anders Ericsson has said – Gladwell was absolutely correct about one thing: if you want to be good at something, do it a lot.
When I first started this blog, I got a comment from someone who said he really wanted to write a book. My response was, “Go write it.” Whoever it was, and I apologize for forgetting his name, replied that he wanted to get better at writing before he tackled writing a book. Or words to that effect. Someday someone will dredge up that comment and prove me wrong, but work with me for now and pretend I’ve got the kind of eidetic memory I like to pretend I have.
The thing is, especially looking back at Ericsson’s research, you can’t get better at something if you don’t do it. Sitting around all day, pondering the ins and outs of that story you want to write is worlds away from sitting around all day actually writing that story you want to write. And guess what? You don’t need permission, you don’t need a year off to kick around Europe (or America, if you happen to be from Europe) looking for inspiration. You only need two things to write: a story to tell and some way to write it.
If the story is already circulating inside your skull, great. Write it down. There are tools galore for writing a book. Technically, you could do it with purloined Bic pens and a lot of cocktail napkins, but if you want to enter the modern era, all you need is a cheap computer and a copy of Open Office.
Don’t expect magic. Don’t expect to blow the doors off the literary world with your first cut. Do expect to spend time writing. Lots of time. Like more than you expect. Henchmen took a few months to write. Transmute took about six months to write. Greetings From Sunny Aluna was around the same. That’s part time, of course, usually an hour or two a night. None of those have blown the doors off the literary world.
While it may seem daunting to gaze at the idea of spending months (or years in some cases) writing a book, this is where you get to employ Ericsson’s research. Every minute you spend makes you better by a minute amount, especially if you’re trying to write well. While you may never hit a tipping point at 10,000 hours and suddenly find yourself the greatest writer, like, ever, you will get better at it.
I guess my point is this: if you want to be really good at something, you have to do that thing. It doesn’t really matter what thing is, you have to actually do it before you can get better at it. Once you start doing it, you’ll naturally find it easier and easier to do, especially once those reviews start coming in and you find yourself wondering why “just” was such an important word that it was in the manuscript 400 times. Edit and move on.
If you want to write a book, go write it. Don’t wait to become an expert writer before you write a book, because the only way to become an expert book writer is to write a book. Just like the best way to become an expert on punching is to hit something, or the best way to become an expert at cycling is to ride a bike.
Of course, after it’s written comes the really scary part: letting someone else read it. But kick the emotional attachment to the curb and listen to what people have to say. That’s the quality of practice portion of doing stuff a lot.
Thoughts? Comments? You know where you can put ’em. Just below in the comments field.
When I was a kid, I used to live for Kung Fu Theater. It was a show that popped up from time to time on one of Farmington’s minimal stations, usually at odd hours and oftentimes without warning. Kung Fu Theater wasn’t a show so much as a clearing house of old Kung Fu movies. This was where I first met Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, and Sonny Chiba and experienced the horror of The Master of Flying Guillotine.
They were all old school Kung Fu movies, written, produced, and filmed in China. They were all also overdubbed, usually poorly.by voice actors who were phoning it in to get a quick paycheck. To be fair, though, most of those movies were big on talking. The golden rule of classical Kung Fu theater meant fists flew and kicks smashed things. It was world of animal styles where Tiger Style and Crane Style clashed with monkeys and dragons in a cataclysmic orgy of fighting prowess.
I’ll confess, I still have a deep and abiding love for watching a good fight scene and there’s some pretty amazing stuff out there right now. The Raid, the current crop of amazingly artistic kung fu cinema, Tony Jaa’s elbows and knees putting Thai boxing firmly on the cinematic map, and Donnie Yen’s ability to calmly destroy his opponents (even if they’re stormtroopers) are all good stuff.
The only thing that’s lacking now is my ten-year-old imagination and blind faith that with enough training I, too, could jump thirty feet in the air or master the Buddha’s Palm technique.
Unfortunately, the more I’ve trained in martial arts, the more I’ve come to realize that there’s nothing magical about them. The martial arts, as a collective, tend to be about practicality more than flash. That doesn’t mean modern martial arts aren’t worth studying, they very much are and I heartily recommend that everyone try out one of the many arts lurking around out there.
Martial artistry is a fascinating study – and damned good exercise – but it bears so little in common with the Kung Fu Theater I grew up with it can be hard to reconcile what I’m learning with what I thought I’d learn.
Oh, ah. What are you gonna do?
The answer, it turns out, was to write my own martial arts book: Greetings From Sunny Aluna and write in plenty of fight scenes and general badassery. It’s my love letter to the old-school Kung Fu movies I grew up with.
And the cool thing is it’s on sale right now and for the next couple days.
I’m sure everyone is familiar with the tale of the 300 Spartans who stood tall against Xerxes and bought ancient Greece time to muster its forces and repel the Persian invasion. It’s a tale of standing up against great odds and defying kings, fighting to the last man to protect family and freedom from a great foreign oppressor. Sheer tales of manliness are still told of Leonidas and his die hard group of badasses. Dienekes, the second prototype for badassery after Leonidas himself, made a name for himself when Xerxes’s messenger threatened to send so many arrows at the Spartans they would blot out the sun. Dienekes replied simply, “Then we will fight in the shade.”
Another phrase that came out of Thermopylae was “molon labe”. This is what Leonidas said to Xerxes when the Persian emperor ordered the Spartans to lay down their arms. As you would probably guess from the awesome badassery that was Leonidas, molon labe means “come and take.”
In other words, Leonidas stood in front of his 300 Spartans, facing down the massive army of Xerxes, and said, “come take ’em.”
A phrase that was used 2500 years ago by a man standing tall and protecting his country has since been co-opted by a group of people living in a country that grants them nearly unparalleled freedom is now using molon labe to refer to standing up to a government that has shown precisely zero interest in taking away their guns.
Sit down, kids, this is going to sting a bit.
Some of you might have heard of LARPing. It’s live action role playing, a game where people dress up as their characters and act out a game in real life. It takes creativity, some costuming skill, and an extreme dedication to the cause. Think of it as a cross between Dungeons & Dragons and a cosplay convention.
American gun culture is very different from when I was a kid. We had the same kinds of weapons available to us – my dad had a few full-auto weapons that he went to great pains to acquire and keep legally. Those guns were insanely fun to fire, even if it did take forever to collect the brass and reloading all the spent rounds could take up an afternoon. When he died, I sold those to a friend of his who had also gone to great lengths to be able to legally purchase and own full-auto weapons. Everything was completely above board and all the guys my dad knew in the AZ shooters groups at the time were rational people who just really liked shooting things.
Gun culture now has shifted to LARPing and the LARPing has shifted to this fantasy world where the guy in the lifted 4×4 with his modified AR-15 variant and Molon Labe sticker thinks he’s the last bulwark between tyranny and freedom. It’s this belief that the tyrants are just around the corner and someone has to put on tacticool outfits and collect gun mods to keep American safe from itself that has pushed gun culture into this insane fantasy world.
The NRA has had a hand in this shift from gun enthusiasts to people who seriously think they’re going to save the world from the bad guys, or worse yet, protect us from the evils of the government. Look up what happened to the NRA at the Revolt at Cincinnati and how the NRA shifted from a group of people who taught marksmanship and gun safety to Boy Scouts into the group they are today.
People like Alex Jones – lying conspiracy theorists looking to make a quick buck – have pushed gun culture even further toward the edge.
There used to be a time when gun enthusiasts kept things neatly in check and the idea of walking around a Target with an AK-47 was unheard of, let alone the idea of shooting up a concert or a church. Don’t get me wrong, I really like shooting and would hate to see a world where all the guns are rounded up and disposed of, but the culture needs to start pulling itself back from the abyss.
I get it, LARPing is fun. It’s fun to dress up and pretend you’re going to save the world, but it’s just a fantasy, a fun game to play and not necessarily a bad skill set to have. But it ain’t real and it’s likely not going to be.
When Leonidas uttered the words “Come, take”, he was facing down a huge army bent on his destruction and subjugation of his homeland. He was standing tall against a very real threat and he died doing what needed to be done. There is no army of angry Persians knocking on our door. The government has no great plans for taking away all the guns. Even now, with two of the top ten deadliest shootings in American history happening within thirty-some-odd days of each other, there won’t be any serious legislation to curtail to gun ownership in this country; it would be political suicide to try that and everyone knows it.
The bottom line is: there is no real threat out there. If someone is crazy enough to try to invade this country, they’ll find out quickly we’re not to be trifled with, but we don’t need American gun culture to keep us safe from tyranny. We’ve got the brave men and women in the armed forces to handle that.
So, go out, dress up and find the coolest mods for your guns. Have fun. Shoot the living shit out of targets and enjoy every second of it. Just realize it’s just a game. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
It’s time to start bringing gun culture back from the brink and realize the rampant paranoia has no basis in reality. It’s also time to realize a gun is not the ultimate solution to every problem.