Fiction: I'm Just Not That Into You

This project sprung a surprise lesson on me: I'm not that into fiction. I've never been a huge novel reader, gravitating mostly towards literary journalism and other types of nonfiction. I rarely watch movies. I'll watch a sitcom or HBO series here and there, but my TV repertoire consists mostly of news and commentary, reality competitions, game shows, and a variety of niche cable network: Weather, History, HGTV, Food Network, etc. I don't write fiction either. Everything I write infuses a tangible, even aggressive sense of me and my perspective. I guess I had never really looked at these patterns, but now that I'm faced with this story telling assignment, it's interestingly clear. I'm about facts, not fantasy. I'm creative and imaginative, but more in the problem-solving sense.

 

I figured the most challenging aspect of the project would tie between planning, since I'm so "in-the-moment," and Flash, because of a re-learning curve. Maybe even the graphics, since I'm more a typography person. On the contrary, plotting a fictional story has my head spinning. I didn't consider until now that the story, quite possibly, doesn't have to be fiction, or could be clearly based on a poem. Can abstract graphics, color, and type interpret a poem or talk about real life in nonfiction terms and still succeed as a two-minute silent film?  

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I see you bubbling all over the place -- you're yeasty, and I think it's grand!

1000 Words Isn't Enough

Is anyone else struggling to keep to the 1000 word maximum? Granted, I can be a chatterbox (not literally, but the writer-equivalent to that). But somehow, one thousand words for my piece seems to scratch the surface of my topic (How to Buy Reggae). I can't wait to get some feedback tomorrow. This is my first draft and I haven't done any heavy editing, so I'm all ears and eyes. Although I feel like my idea is simple enough, clearly I still need to trim the fat if I can't fit it within the limit.

Main Topic: Dancehall Reggae (as narration, commentary, and storytelling)
Organizing Principle: Plotlines and Characters
Client: Vibe magazine

How to Buy Reggae: A Guide to the Unknown
by LaDonna LaGuerre

Reggae.

What five words come to mind first? Bob Marley and the Wailers?

Bob bares the responsibility of representing a basic, mainstream image of reggae—a genre largely understood as a one-dimensional continuation of drums. He croons softly in the backdrop of tourism commercials. His name always comes up first when asked, 'Hey, do you like reggae?" The natural response: "Yeah, Bob Marley's cool."

We knew reggae as jolly, positive music that seeped out of Jamaica in the 1960s, irrigated throughout the world, yes, thanks to Bob's legendary music. Unfortunately, for Bob, reggae has moved on. While peace music and slave songs will never die, modern subgenres, like dancehall, infuse and entrance a new generation of music lovers. Reggae got over dub plates and steel drums

and got into riddim riders, DJs, and dance moves, creating a fresh, 21^st-century Jamaican sound.

One problem: Dancehall can boggle the mind. Fast-flowing rhymes, a clamorous bass line, Jamaican patois, and rich, allegorical lyrics can turn off the layperson listener, or even the traditional reggae fan, from getting into this genre of music—too many barriers. A true dancehall fanatic can attest to its exclusive, almost cult-like feel.

Vibe knocks the wall down between hardcore dancehall and the average person with an interest in, and possibly an intimidation of, reggae. Before you go fishing for download sites or hit up your local music shop, read on. Learn how to buy reggae (and, maybe, how to understand the music you are buying, to which you'd be listening nonstop after pressing play on the first track).

Now you know: reggae used to mean Bob Marley and now takes on an inclusive and more contemporary definition. It's hip, energetic, and, cool—but who knew also complex? Your dancehall lesson does not end with a historical timeline.

Making your dancehall purchase always starts with format selection: DJ mix or an artist recording? The novice listener generally feels more comfortable with the latter; with experience, you move on to understand the significance and pleasure of the DJ mix—deejays sometimes have greater impact on the dancehall scene than the artist, who often cannot gain popularity without them (tabled for lesson two).

Now, to the important questions that will define your purchase:

Are you feeling tough?

Think you're a bad ass bitch?

Depressed?

Love pussy?

Need something familiar?

Hate your government?

Remember, complexity and dancehall go hand in hand. Reggae consumers do not just buy reggae—they often invest in the messages, points of view, or paradigms of the artist writing and performing the lyrics. A tough guy will buy a different type of dancehall than someone wanting to overthrow the government. Dancehall tells stories of the multi-faceted Jamaican experience, one that could involve everything: from street violence, poverty, marijuana, and self-pride, to Jah (a God-like figure), women, humor, and homophobia. These songs speak to all those plots, and others, constructing vibrant Jamaican characters (and caricatures)—which needs analysis and consideration before making a move to checkout.

Plot: Mi Bust Mi Gun

Character: The Rude Bwoy

Back in the day, in a famous reggae classic, the artist tells you: "Six million ways to die—choose one," followed up with a demonic laugh and a head-bobbing beat. Buying Badman brings you to the dangerous streets of Jamaica, the garrison, like a musical version of The Wire. Sample Badman lyrics: Bawl, Mama, bawl now. Hey Mama, buy a wreath for your son, 'cause he fucked around, now he's gonna die by my gun. And now you're gonna cry when you come, when you see his body on the ground.

Plot: Catfight

Character: The Bad Gyal

For a female to make it in a male-dominated profession, she must find an edge to be a cut-above the rest. She needs to claw her way for respect and recognition from her peers. So what if her claws dig into the faces of fellow female artists? A Bad Gyal purchase, a lyrical catfight, not only uncovers the competitive nature of the dancehall industry, but also the daily reality for Jamaicans who compete on the island for basic resources and life necessities. Sample Bad Gyal lyrics: Excuse me, miss, make me teach you some tricks. Just like a doggy, me mek him sit. Gal yuh man a lust after my kibbles and bits, 'cause me have the tactics fi ease his spirits. Watch me—make me upgrade yuh man. Me will sen him bak in better condition. When I'm done with him he'll be my likkle Superman. A nuh my fault make yuh man lust afta me.

Plot: Depression and the Black Man

Character: The Deep Brother

Peel away Jamaica's shiny façade of sand, beaches, Hedonism, Spring Break, and honeymoons and what do you find? Well, after the weed—what do you find? Shanty towns with tin roof houses. Parents working hard like slaves to feed and educate children. Frustration, poverty, and depression. Listening to the Deep Brother talk about his hard times requires empathy, passion, and possibly a drive to change the world. Sample Deep Brother lyrics: Exercise every day and I'm still not fit. My kids are hungry and I ain't got shit. What I'm gonna do, what I'm gonna do? What would you do?

[Note: I want to continue my classification to touch upon each of the question defining questions above, but last check I was at 984 words, so I'm forced to stop with a clear, finalized piece.]

(Conclusion)

Almost out of the first 21^st-century decade and, finally, dancehall has omnipresence. It's everywhere—and I don't mean Brooklyn, NY. Once upon a time, reggae acted as a backdrop to fruity cocktails, beach trips, or as the faceless bong mate. Today in the U.S., reggae blasts out of commercial radio stations, saves the night at a typical hip-hop club venue with patrons don't dance, and recognized by cable television conglomerates as viable sources of new content. Most importantly, reggae can now be a part of your music collection, chosen deliberately, carefully, and with confidence. Tomorrow, it can be pumping out of your iPod headphones.

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I see you bubbling all over the place -- you're yeasty, and I think it's grand!

"Wuz" up with that??

Christie's last blog kind of tickled me: "to be or not to be...definitely not to be."

It tickled my brain and pushed me to review my own writing and analyze the lazy writer in me. The time came to look at this objectively. I've written story after journal after poem about writer's block, which I believe relates to laziness, lack of motivation or inspiration, and tapping out of ideas or fresh writing. Still, I lack the strategies to overcome my issues. I certainly never thought to deconstruct my issues and comb through my own words for signs of hope.

I went looking for the laggard verb in one of my pieces that I love and often use as a sample that represents my writing style. Happily, I didn't find too many. However, I did noticed a pattern: when actually interested in what I'm saying, I don't reach for the "to be" crutch. In forcibly stringing sentences together, fighting through unwavering hesistance or lack of confidnce, the lazy writer emerges. Case in point:

Successful passage (one slipped in):
The post-nap glow screeched to a jarring stop when he finally awoke, hot, aggravated, dripping and slimy with his sweat, the daily nuisance and consequence of his HIV+ status that plagued him with rage and melancholy, tainting his bloodstream. Almost automatically, our nap led us into, what sometimes felt like, our respective trenches, places where our battles turn into crying games and are rich with talk of death, pain, regret—where each tear drop is acidic.

Unsuccessful passage (five irrupted my train of thought): I was endlessly sensitive to my friend, nearly embracing, or at least anticipating, his erratic behavior. It was laborious, but I loved him then. His health operated like a rollercoaster. It was never steady, with deep drops and sharp turns; it was unpredictably topsy-turvy. I was there for him, unequivocally, for a relatively short, but critical part of his precious, delicate life, that could fade into black with bad cold.

Reviewing my writing reinforced the point made in Hale's book that overusing "to be" makes a writer appear inexperienced, uncomfortable, and lacking acuity with words. The glimmer of hope I revealed through my words is that while it seems difficult to nix the comfortable habit, it isn't all that hard. My "successful passage" proves that point. Writing isn't a race, so there's no reason to rest on empty words to convey complex ideas with no good reason. Taking the time to push everything to the next level will make the difference between saying something and being expressive.

Christie's blog articulates this idea of being expressive beautifully, reminding herself that writing is akin to composing a written picture. In that case, I would compare using "to be" with using the Arial typeface for a dynamic design/layout composition, in that "yeah, you can use it, but why when there are so many other interesting typefaces to use..."

To be a writer, I must write.

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I see you bubbling all over the place -- you're yeasty, and I think it's grand!