“Ya Bilge-Suckin’ Dogfish!” or How the Writer’s Craft Helped Me Out-Pirate Jack Sparrow

The past few weeks have added some more obstacles in my quest of achieving that elusive balance between work(writing) and life which I so desperately seek. When I analyzed these challenges from multiple perspectives, however, I realized evening the scales wasn’t a matter of placing more weight on one side or the other this time. What I needed to do was recalibrate the scale altogether.

Pi-rate

There’s no scientific method or instruction manual I’m aware of for adjusting whatever scale one uses to measure work-life balance. Sure, there’s plenty of advice out there in books, journals, and the internet, but I came up with my own procedure.

Redefining “Balance”

First, I needed to decide what things I would put on each side of the scale. This meant re-labeling those sides (sort of).

This is why I needed to come up with my own procedure.

Calling the trays of the balancing scale “work” and “life” doesn’t exactly apply to what I’m trying to measure. In an earlier post [Rebalancing the Scale When Life’s Boot Is On Your Throat] I even had a graphic that clearly showed I was dealing with a “writing” and “life” balance issue. This might seem like splitting hairs, especially if writing IS my work, but I’ll tell you why it makes a difference in my case.

When I used to tell my wife and kids I was “going to work,” that meant getting in the car and driving 45-90 minutes in bumper-to-bumper traffic up U.S. 1 to travel 13.8 miles to my assigned cubicle at an office just outside Washington, D.C. I’d spend 9-10 hours (or more), 5 days a week, doing “important” government work that at times was quite satisfying–though mostly it was downright boring. And I was miserable.

Now when I say I’m “going to work,” one of two things happens: I either shut myself in my home office upstairs to read and write, or I drive 30 minutes down U.S. 1 with no traffic, dressed as a pirate, to work 4-7 hours, 5-6 days a week, at the St. Augustine Pirate & Treasure Museum where EVERY day is more fun than I deserve.

So my work–as it stands today–isn’t really “work” at all…not in the vein of the mundane, tedious, clock-watching drudgery in cubeville it used to be. In a way, my “work” is also my “life.” And I have no problem with that.

As far as I know, neither does my family. (Maybe because I’m not as grumpy as I used to be.)<–my daughter might disagree with that last part

Thus, rather than “work” and “life,” I chose to focus on finding that “writing” and “life” balance.

“But you said writing was your life.”

True. Hence the need to recalibrate the scale. Where it used to be easy to separate “work” from “life,” that distinction is less clear now. Sure, driving kids to soccer practice, doing the laundry, or cooking dinner, can easily be binned as “life” on one side of the scale, but writing is a little more fuzzy.

Sure, this blog and the book I’m in the process of completing are clearly “writing” elements in the whole balancing act, but something happened last night that made me think there are more things than I was aware of that, on the surface, seem to lie squarely on the “life” side, but which in truth have all the hallmarks of writing.

I met Captain Jack Sparrow!

Okay. We’ve all seen at least one of the five Pirates of the Caribbean movies, right? So you know who Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) is.

Well, last night there was an event in St. Augustine where a band of pirates took over one of the Old Towne Trolley tour trains and made their way through the Ancient City, eventually debarking said train and taking over historic St. George Street.

I was working the 11-close shift at the museum, a I missed all the shenanigans. But at about 5:30 p.m., through the Fort Alley entrance, none other than Captain Jack himself graced Ye Olde Treasure Shoppe with his presence (with Moon Mermaid in tow, no less)!

Mermaid-Jack.png

Okay, it wasn’t Johnny Depp, but aside from a slightly deeper voice, this man was every bit the same Jack Sparrow you saw on the big screen. From the moment he walked in the door, Captain Jack was nothing but. He NEVER broke character! Not when I sold him and his crew tickets into the museum, not whole he was inside viewing our over 800 authentic pirate artifacts (including “his” sword from Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl) and interacting with other museum visitors, and not even when he spent about 15 minutes looking through the treasure shop and purchasing a magnet from me.

He had every tattoo that the movie Jack has, including the East India Company “P” branding. Only, unlike Johnny Depp, this man’s tattoos were real (I know because we compared swallows on our forearms–my left, his right). Even the hair was real. By all accounts, this man was–is–Jack Sparrow.

But here is why I said I “out-pirated” the good captain–and how this made me realize that sometime elements of my “life” could just as easily be labeled “writing.”

Meet Smilin’ Matt Blackheart

Blackheart

Yes, that’s me. I was wearing this same outfit the night I met Jack Sparrow. I can’t tell you enough (or more than I already have) about how well the man who came into the museum last night played the part of the character Johnny Depp made famous. He is by far the best “Jack Sparrow” I’ve come across. But how do I know he was playing the part well?

Because I’ve seen the movies.

I suspect that’s pretty much how “Jack” got so good at the speech, dress, mannerisms, etc. of Johnny Depp’s character. He watched the movies…probably A LOT of times.

He’s good. Very good.

But what about the guy who has a raspy voice, or an uncontrollable eye-twitch, or *gasp* no tattoos? Right off the bat, we’d say, “meh, he’s alright, but he’s not ‘the’ Jack Sparrow.”

And why is that?

I’ll tell you why. Because we ALL know what Jack Sparrow looks like–from his hair and tattoos, to his mannerisms and slightly tipsy gait (or speech for that matter). We don’t REALLY need to know anything about Jack Sparrow except what we saw in the movies.

If our nighttime museum visitor sticks to the script, I doubt he’ll ever be called a phony.

But what if you asked him something about Jack’s past that wasn’t in the movies? What if someone asked him the same question an hour–or a week, or month– later? Would he give the same answer?

Maybe. (He WAS pretty darn good.)

But I don’t have the luxury of watching five movies (or even one) about Matt Blackheart. No sir. Everything I know about that sea-dog I had to invent myself. But remember, I work at the Pirate MUSEUM (i.e. we have REAL pirate stuff–all kinds). And I’m all about realism…especially when it comes to pirates!

Jack Sparrow is a fictional character with a fictional background who “lives” in a fictional world.

Smilin’ Matt Blackheart is also a fictional character, so I get to choose his mannerisms, and the way he dresses, etc. But I got to WRITE his backstory. And it took me days to find the right pirate(s) at the right time(s) to develop a plausible background that would allow me to engage museum-goers on more than just a superficial, hand-waving, slurred speech, swaying level. In other words, I get to teach history, not just remind people of the great time that had at the movie theater.

So when someone asks me about my (Blackheart’s) past, I get tell them all about the Pirate Round, Thomas Tew, Henry Every, and the battle with the Indian Grand Mughal’s fleet in the Red Sea in August 1695.

(Oh, and because Blackheart is fictional, I get to choose his mannerisms, the way he talks, the way he dresses, etc. I also get to yell at customers who are abusing the toy pistols and rifles in the treasure shop in a loud piratical voice, “ONLY TWO CLICKS ON THOSE GUNS YA BILGE-SUCKIN’ DOGFISH!! –or– …YA MANGY BILGERATS!! –or– …YA SLIMY PLANK-WORMS!! “Jack Sparrow” would never get away with that 🙂  But I got promoted to manager for it….I love my job!)

Here’s a one-pager on Smilin’ Matt Blackheart’s background. Feel free to read it or not. Either way, thanks for stopping by!

Matt-Blackheart-Bio

Backstory: The Most Important Sub-Plot You’ll Never Write

I suffer from one of the more visible ailments of the Florida tourist. While this particular malady can afflict anyone, regardless of age, race, or sex, a recent non-scientific study at [insert name of beach here] determined those most susceptible were white males over the age of 40.

While I am a match for three of the four descriptors of this largest group, I am no longer a tourist, having established Florida residency over a year ago.

The tragic, socially-alienating condition I am referring to is more colloquially known as “farmer’s tan.”

I am not a farmer, either, which makes my predicament that much more disturbing as both an embarrassment to my teenage daughter at the neighborhood pool and as a source of unwarranted conversation at the Flying J truck stop about how the drought is really screwing with the yield of crops I don’t grow.

So last week I made my first attempt to remedy the situation by doing yard work…without my shirt on.

Now I am dealing with the corollary condition to the farmer’s tan called “peeling”–the direct result of the sun baking my Nordic-white skin too long. And as anyone who’s experienced the same problem knows, with the peeling comes the itching.

Luckily I have a ready arsenal to deal with the irritation.

Backstory

A sunburned back can really affect the way you approach everyday situations. Showers are shorter and the pressure of washcloth (or that mesh “poof” thing) on skin is gentler. There’s no leaning back on the couch for a few days either…hmmm. So maybe sunburn can actually help your posture. Or not.

That’s my back story.

“Excuse me. What does that have to do with writing?”

I’ll tell you. Like a sunburn on your back helps shape the choices you make–do you really want to bear-hug your buddy knowing the pain that’s coming?–your fictional character’s backstory helps shape the choices he/she makes in your novel.

See what I did there?–[smile]

“You’re lame.”

All right. That was a lame transition, but if the opening lines of this post amused you in any way, then I hope you will forgive me…because the next part really is important to discuss if you’re a writer or reader of books, and/or a watcher of movies, for that matter.

At least it’s important enough to my own project that I spent a whole week on it just to discover that most of what I’d written so far (outline and manuscript) has to reworked.

In my first three novels, Open Source, The Complicity Doctrine, and Truth in Hiding, the protagonist, Casey Shenk, shares a lot of my own backstory. You might say that Casey IS me, and to a large extent that’s true.

Remember, those novels were first attempts at learning the craft of writing–primarily through trial-and-error–and they served as proof (to me, especially) that I could see an entire book project through from start to finish.

By making Casey Shenk a fictional version of Matt Frick, I didn’t have to think too much about the main protagonist’s background, personality, or decision-making process, because they were essentially the same as mine.

Frank Torwood, the main character in my current project, is a different story, however. Frank is not me.

Before I started outlining, I determined Frank’s birthdate, birthplace, where he went to school, his occupation, how he chose that career, and some of the things he’d done or seen that put him in the predicament he finds himself in at the story’s open. I had his backstory…or so I thought.

As I discussed in Start from the Middle: How One Simple Idea Just Changed Everything, I took another look at the plotting I’d done through the lens of a “mirror moment.” This point in the story is where the main character takes a look at his life and decides if he’ll continue down that road or change as the situation dictates around the midpoint of the story. The decision he makes affects how he will respond to conflicts and tension in the remaining pages.

I did that. And all was well. Until I realized I only knew half of what I needed to know. I knew what Frank would choose to become and how this would drive the last act of the three-act play forward to the end, but I didn’t know the first part of the “mirror moment.” If Frank was going to look back at his life and who he was before that all-important decision, I needed to know what he saw in that mirror. And everything I knew about Frank to that point was as deep as a Wikipedia bio entry.

What was Frank’s childhood like? Was it cushy and filled with love, or was it traumatic and filled with strife? What were his parents’ childhoods like? Did their own difficult upbringings affect the way they treated Frank or the home life they were able to provide or not provide for him? Did Frank have any siblings?

I needed to answer those questions–at a minimum–before I truly began to understand Frank as a person.

We all know or know of people who have overcome diversity and hardship to become successful in life. We may even know folks who grew up with a silver spoon only to hit rock bottom when they got older. One thing each of them have in common is that their background invariably shaped the decisions they made which led to their rise or fall.

And those situations aren’t just about monetary stability or social status. More often than not, it could be as simple as, “that person’s (an asshole, racist, saint, killer…whatever) because of (how their mommy/daddy raised them, the gang violence in their neighborhood, the time they spent going to church, their drug addiction, etc.).”

And that’s just part of the backstory.

There was likely a “mirror moment” at some point early on in these people’s lives that led to their rise or fall decision. Maybe they killed someone and went to prison. Perhaps they drank too much one night, hit a pedestrian–crippling that poor soul for life–and fled the scene. They might have jumped into a fast-moving river during a flood-rain and saved the dog of a billionaire widower who rewarded them with five-million dollars.

Or maybe they got married.

Whatever happened, however a person was raised, all of this defines who your main character is at the start of the book. As an author, I not only have to show the reader a believable and interesting/entertaining character arc through the pages of the book, I have to know why a character takes a certain action or makes a specific choice to get the story moving in the first place.

That’s backstory. And it’s the most important sub-plot you’ve got to have for your story to work. Your character won’t feel alive without it.

You may reveal some of that backstory to the reader (through dialogue, flashback, etc.), but you’ll never put the whole thing in your book–or at least I wouldn’t.

It is called back story, after all. And who wants to show off all that red, painful, itchy, peeling mess, anyway?

“You’re still lame.”

I know.