My own Hobbit!

Is the pipe big or is he small?

This is a story that is just too scary, and then hilarious, not to share.

I have a close friend, Nina, from Germany. Yesterday, she told me a story about her cousin that had me in tears. Nina lives in the states and occasionally talks with her Aunt Agnes on Skype. Agnes cares for her mentally-disabled adult son, Christian. 

Christian sounds like a nice enough man, in his mid-20's, and in love with Lord of the Rings. With the recent release of The Hobbit in theaters, Agnes reports that Christian is in full LOR mode. 

Last week, during her lunch break, Agnes called her son to check on him. He was at home, as usual, and terribly excited. 

"Are you having a good day?" she asked him.

"Yes," he nearly shouted. "I've my own hobbit!"

"Hobbit? Yes, we're going to see the hobbit this week."

"No, mama," the young man replied. "I've got my own hobbit!"

The conversation was not entirely unusual. The young man had a hobbit costume, even LOR toys; making his statement about the hobbit somewhat run-of-the-mill. Yet, something about his excitement was unsettling. Concerned for her son's safety, and after over 20 years of constant care for him, Agnes decided to go home and check on her son. She left work shortly after, and drove home.

When she arrived, Agnes discovered Christian in full Hobbit garb, brandishing his plastic sword and toys. "I've my own hobbit now, mama!"

Agnes made a quick walk through the house, stopping in the kitchen when she heard a faint tapping coming from inside the broom closet. When she pulled open the door, she was shocked to see a little person inside. Thankfully, he wasn't hurt, but apparently, he'd been locked inside the closet for most of the day.

What she could decipher, between Christian's ecstatic shouts and clapping, was an interesting story. This little person was part of a traveling circus. In an attempt to drum up business, the circus manager had sent several performers (to include numerous little people) through the local neighborhoods to hand out flyers. When this poor soul arrived, Christian scooped him off the porch, certain his prayers for a real-life hobbit had been answered, and stored him away in the broom closet. 

Fortunately, the poor soul hadn't been harmed, only man handled by an excited Christian. Agnes offered him something to drink, a ride, or even some money for his troubles. The man only calmly asked if he could leave. Agnes escorted him to the door, holding back a now devastated Christian. When the little person reached the porch, he ran across their yard and disappeared down the street.

This story terrified me a little bit. As Nina told it, I couldn't help but think several things:

Was it a child? A little person?

Were they hurt? What did Christian do?

Once I learned the truth, and discovered that the poor man wasn't hurt, I couldn't help but laugh. Maybe I'm evil, but I just kept thinking, what in the world happened for those few hours? Did Christian slip him a sandwich under the door? Did he tell the man about all their planned adventures? Did the man try to comply? Escape?

But what made me laugh the hardest was the thought of that poor man returning to his employer. "Please, Mr. White, you don't understand. I would have been working the whole time, but I was kidnapped and forced to play as a hobbit."

At the least, Agnes could have written him a note or something. "Please excuse this man, he was mistaken for a mythical creature by my son and held captive in our kitchen. Regards, Agnes!"

Monster of the Week

One of my favorite shows in the '90s was The X-Files. It was creepy, had amazing main characters, and I not-so-secretly wanted to be Fox Mulder. I learned a lot from watching the show. The biggest thing I learned is probably that people love not knowing almost as much as they do completely knowing.

Come on, he looks pretty bad ass. Right? Right??

I was into the show, so much so that I relished any production information I could find, particularly on the then very primitive internet. It was during one of these "keyword searches" that I discovered a new Hollywood term: Monster of the Week.

What did it mean? We all know now (or do we?), but back then it was a new idea to me. In a nutshell, monster-of-the-week episodes (from this point forward, MOTW) allowed the protagonist to fight a major antagonist that would be defeated by the end of the hour, usually never to be seen again by the viewer. X-Files was great, because it gave us several MOTW episodes, with a few big story-arc episodes mixed in. Plenty of shows did it, but they did it well.

A lot of the shows I love to this day followed that same format; Smallville, The Clone Wars, and Stargate. But right now, one of my passions, that has been riding that MOTW train for nearly 8 seasons, is Supernatural.

I love that show. I LOVE it. It has it all, supernatural elements, horror, character drama, lengthy back stories  and great stand-alone MOTW episodes. But, I've learned something about the show. A lot of the MOTW episodes follow the exact same formula.

Act 1

Dean: "Hey, why are you running around? We need to sit by the phone unless that guy from the main story-arc calls."
Sam: "But people are dying! Wouldn't Dad want us to help people instead of sitting around eating cheeseburgers?"
Dean: "Dammit, Sammy! But you're doing that thing you promised not to do in the last story-arc episode."

Act 2

Dean completely ignores what he just said to Sam, and helps him fight a ghost or... something. The point is, even though at this point they have defeated Satan (like twice), prevented the Apocalypse, handed an archangel his ass, time traveled (like 5 times), are best friends with an instant-healer angel, and laughed in the face of God; we're still expected to be worried about them investigating an every day haunting the likes of which we haven't seen since season 1.

LOL! Remember when doing this crap used to be a big deal?

Act 3

Dean: "Damn, that ghost... or whatever was really scary. Glad that's over!"
Sam: "Yeah, I've been super stressed since, ya know, that main story-arc thing."
Dean: "Sam...(kinda misty-eyed), since Dad died like 4 seasons ago, and Bobby died and came back and died again only to be rescued from hell, I've been stressed too."
Sam: "I know, MOTW right?"
Dean: "Yeah, but you can't lie to me about the main story arc anymore... ok?"
Sam: "Ok... oh look, a text message from the main story-arc!"
Insert cliffhanger.

And I watch it, with gleeful anticipation, week after week. Why? Because the writers are amazing at this formula. Seriously though, why does it work? MOTW episodes are great ways to build a character for that story-arc episode later. When the big story comes, you don't have time to explain the turmoil between Sam and Dean; so you explain it while they fight lesser problems.

That got me thinking, how does that related to a novel? I don't have episodes, just one main story. But, all great novels have subplots. Those subplots should be fulfilling the same purpose as MOTW episodes. From now on, I'm going to do my best to answer these questions when I work on subplots:

1. Does this subplot build on any of my main character(s) traits or history?
2. Can I use this subplot as exposition for the main story or setting?
3. Will this subplot tie into the main plot? Give clues/experience to the main characters for the main story?
4. Am I adding anything that I love about the story/characters to this subplot?
5. Can I make the subplot's beginning and end have points that link to the main plot?

Let's see if it works, I mean, something that's been done so long can't be completely wrong can it?

History does repeat itself. That's pretty bad ass right there.