Goodbye Harry Potter - A Love Story

Howdy folks!  I've been on a once a week blog cycle this summer, and while I've certainly missed the catharsis involved in sharing my thoughts with you fine people on a more frequent basis, I must say it has alleviated some of the bulge in my 'to do' list.  I'll get back to my regular 3-ish postings a week at some point, but to be honest I'm kind of enjoying stretching my legs a bit.

I previously posted about the runaway summer I've been having, and was relieved (in a morbid sinking ship kind of way) to see how many of you were experiencing a similar amount of 'nuts'.  In conclusion, I think it's just the season to get distracted.

Perhaps the single biggest indication of just how much my time has gotten away from me this year was my delay in getting to the newest (and last) Harry Potter movie.  You see, over the last 9 years I've managed to be at the theater on opening night for the previous 6 films.  I missed the opening for the first film because I had no idea who or what a Harry Potter was, and I couldn't have told you the difference between a muggle and a mud cat.  Ultimately, I decided the movie might be worth a shot after a couple of weeks worth of strong recommendations from friends and coworkers.

ONE NIGHT IN HOGWARTS ...

I can still remember that night vividly in my mind.  The girl who would soon become my wife asked if I could make an evening showing after classes, and of course I agreed.  In retrospect it was never really a decision, because 1) I was crazy about her and would have agreed to drive to the moon to fetch lemonade if she'd have asked it of me, and 2) I was--and still am--in love with the big screen too.  I'll watch just about anything once.

I recall walking up to the theater holding her hand and suddenly letting it drop as I saw a line of a couple dozen people formed outside our tiny cinema.  It was two weeks out from opening night and there were still droves of people (keep in mind we attended college in a VERY small town) lining up to watch it!  "This must be some kind of story," I thought as we finally were allowed in to find a seat.

AN UNKNOWN LOVE

Backtracking a bit, you should know that I was not a big reader at that point in my life--at least not fiction.  In my teens I'd become a pretty BIG fan of Stephen King and spent a fair amount of my time nose-in-book.  Unfortunately, when I started college I put away the fun reads for textbooks.  That trend continued all the way through grad school and the first Harry Potter film.

You should also know (for the sake of this story) that my wife and I were somewhat star-crossed in the love falling department.  We first met in May of that year (2001), I asked her to marry me just shy of two months later.  As we lay on her tiny dormitory bed listening to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong sing a duet, the idea came to my mind that I'd never be able live another day without her, so I asked if she'd make sure that never happened.  She thought I was joking, of course, but thankfully said yes.

That might sound crazy to you, and in hindsight I'd probably agree that it was, but there really wasn't much else for us to do BUT get married.  I'm not exaggerating when I say that we had EVERYTHING in common.  It was like we'd been walking on opposite sides of the same road our entire lives completely unaware that the other person was there.  All of a sudden we found ourselves in the middle of the road staring at each other.  From that point on, continuing to wander that road alone no longer seemed like an option.

When Harry rolled around, I'd found the hidden love of my life only months before.  Little did I know that I was about to rediscover a lost love, and gain a new one all in the same magical evening.

A MUGGLE NO MORE

"We have to get the books," my wife said on the drive home.  The next day we had all four and began to tackle the hardest part of any relationship: sharing.  Luckily she wanted to read the first one to see if the movie matched the book, and I was already eager to start the second to find out what happened next.  Who knows, if she'd have wanted to start with book 2 we might not be celebrating our tenth anniversary next year!

I read the next 3 books in a week.  I'm not a fast reader, and keep in mind that I hadn't read much of anything in the way of fiction in years.  Suddenly I found myself in love with reading again, and all of it thanks to some kids' books about wizards.  I also started to see some of the children I worked with at the counseling agency reading them.  Naturally, I explored what value they were getting from them.  Seems that these kids, many of whom had absolutely awful home lives, could really relate to this orphaned boy who was terribly mistreated by his adopted family.  It was escapism of the highest importance, in my eyes.

That's when I decided I'd like to be able to write those kinds of stories.  Stories that could make adults remember the fun of reading, and stories that could truly mean something for people without much else to hold on to.

A TEARFUL GOODBYE

Nearly ten years later, last night I once again clutched the girl's hand in a darkened theatre as we watched the opening credits of a new Harry Potter film.  Only this time I knew it was the last.  I squeezed her hand and asked, "You going to make it through this?"  Only half-joking, because I knew what it meant for her as well.

We fell in love with Harry in much the same way we did with one another.  It was instantaneous, inexplicably familiar and lasting.  Our relationship has evolved with Harry, and so many of our fondest memories together have come at his wand.  Staying up all night to purchase (and read) each new book, laughing at the costumes people wore to the theaters, snuggled together in blankets on rare free weekends to re-watch the movies, and hashing out the meanings and relevance of the books over countless dinners.  That's not to mention the number of friends we've made just because we had a shared love of Mr. Potter.    

Like so many others, to us Harry Potter has been much more than a book or film franchise.  Harry Potter has been a companion in our lives.  He has marked the passing of time and provided us with a lifetime of special moments to look back on.  Trying my best to sum it up, I'd say Harry Potter has proven to me that sometimes the journey truly is the destination.

~EJW~

Hollywood Killed the Literary Star

Dreaming big is a disease among writers, and I’m afraid it’s contagious. I would say that almost every writer who has sat down and put chisel to stone, ink to papyrus, pencil to paper, or fingers to keyboard has—at some point—had dreams of wealth, fame, and Oprah dancing in their heads. Oh sure, when friends and family put the spotlight on our ambitions of being published we say something deflective like, “it’s all about artistic integrity” or “I’m not trying to kick Harry Potter’s wand waiving butt in sales.” In reality, many of us would be so jazzed to have someone in our neighborhood read an article we’d written for the annual Boy Scout newsletter that we’d immediately start planning a tour and signings in our minds. If our writing income bought our next latte we’d start surfing the web looking for that perfect summer home in the Hamptons or Tuscany.


Jo Rowling likes foie gras you say? Perhaps I’ll just have to purchase my own obese goose farm when my article “10 Ways to Help the Elderly in Your Community” gets picked up by the New Yorker, Forbes, and Maxim magazines. We’ll have liver fat morning, noon, and night!

For authors in the modern industry, to attain such notoriety almost always means some form of crossover success on the silver screen. If your book or characters are going to truly become household names, an industry unto themselves if you will, then a deal with Hollywood (i.e. the devil) will surely have to be made. If you’re going to enter the authorly stratosphere, you’re going to have to get by the tuxedo wearing movie guy at the gate who’s smoking a cigar made of hundred-dollar bills and waiving a contract in your face.

This ‘partnership’ doesn’t always turn out badly for the author or the work. The movie industry is full of folks just like us who are inspired by the things they read and see, and aim to lovingly recreate them using the puzzle pieces of their own imagination. There have been many Hollywood adaptations of fiction that have matched or exceeded the glory of their paper-bound muse. I would argue that the movies Stand by Me, The Green Mile, and Shawshank Redemption all stand toe-to-toe with the stories Mr. King originally dreamed up. Unfortunately, for every one of those gems you’ll find fifteen made-for-TV monstrosities that would send Cujo back under the porch with his tail between his legs. Alas, for every Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone there is a Golden Compass, and for every Lord of the Rings there is a Scarlet Letter. Oh Demi Moore, if only we could see in you what Bruce Willis and Ashton Kutcher see in you …

That brings me to my latest escapade. When I learned that the Percy Jackson & the Olympians book The Lightening Thief was coming to the big screen I let out a school girlish giggle that any TwiHard would be jealous of. A book I loved getting the blockbuster treatment, what could go wrong? As I nestled into my over-priced seat I found my author’s mind starting to wonder, “How cool would it be to sit down in a theater to watch a movie based on something you wrote?” To have someone interpret your words into a spectacle of sight and sound that would be seen by millions seemed like it would be such an overwhelming honor!

Then I watched the movie.

It wasn’t horrible. There were cool special effects, some of the actors did a very good job of bringing the characters to life, and I laughed at a couple of the jokes. In the end, however, it just didn’t live up to the story I’d read. They’d gotten the tone all wrong (there is no overt sexuality in the books, of which there is plenty in the movies), changed major plot points, and really didn’t convey the depth of the story at all.

You see, being an aspiring YA author, I love these books. They’re a great example of the kinds of stories I hope to write: action packed, fun-loving, and thoughtful reads with characters even the Wicked Witch of the West would cheer for. Plus, adults love them, too. I first took notice of the series last year when I kept seeing the middle school students that I work with toting around beaten up paperback copies. As I do with every book that I see them reading, I said, “Is that a good book?” To which they replied, “I guess,” which is eighth grade-ese for, “If I’m taking precious time away from video games, iThings, and texting to read it, it’s awesome.” Long story short I picked up the books, burned through them, and then proceeded to force every human I came into contact with to read them also. They’re that good.

Rick Riordan (author of said books AND fellow San Antonian – RICK, HAVE YOUR PEOPLE CALL MY PEOPLE, WE’LL DO LUNCH AND I’LL BRING THE SANGRIA!) is a master story teller when it comes to pacing and creating reachable characters. Percy is the flawed hero every author wishes they came up with. To top it all off, Mr. Riordan expertly blends Greek mythology into a modern context in such a way that you forget all about mythology being that hated semester of high school that you had right before you started Shakespeare. By the gods, it’s now cool to speak Greek!

In the end, I left the theater that day with a completely different thought than the one I’d entered with: How disappointed was the author watching this? It has to be incredibly difficult to see your idea, your baby, be taken and pulled in a direction that doesn’t seem to fit with the original vision. I realize that is the tradeoff authors make when releasing the movie rights for their stories (once you sign it away, it’s gone), but I can’t imagine Mr. Riordan was 100% pleased with the translation. I suppose I’d just be thrilled to have my story get the Hollywood treatment (many are optioned, few are made), but it’s the first time I really considered the compromise authors face.