On Guitar Heroes, Web-comics: Getting your idea off the ground, and then some.

Ian Z IM-ed me yesterday about collaborating on a web-comic. Now, it should be noted that as far as my prediliction for fiction is concerned, prose is more my turf than comic book-writing. But his idea was interesting. Very, very interesting.

It's about a young guitarist who owns an old guitar that contains gems that form a weapon for war. A war for peace. It's fantastic, I know -- but I'm a fantasy fic aficionado, and what could be more seductive to someone who idolizes Eddings, Salvatore, Goodkind and Pratchett (not necessarily in that order) than to be asked to collaborate on an adventure of fantastic proportions?

Needless to say, I jumped on the chance without rolling the dice. So to speak.

We've been friends for three years now, Ian and I, and this story -- this idea -- goes back as far as ten, fifteen years ago, says Ian. Apparently, he's been carrying it around, looking for the right opportunity, for the right impetus, to present itself. Why I was picked to be the lucky contestant is beyond me. But on with the story...

This guitarist, this young maudlin who has no idea of the power he's holding, comes from a long line of musicians who have been tasked to guard the instrument. When he first told me the story, I could picture Val Halen, from The Justice Friends (that superhero cartoon spin-off of Dexter's Lab). I scoffed at the idea, at first. But then it got interesting. It had elements of high fantasy -- gods doing war with each other, using humans as their agents in this unending battle between good and evil -- to quote Travolta.

Then Ian relates the backstory of his heroic character. He's a member of a garage band, trying to get things started for the band. But he's not getting it done. One day, this old guy saunters right by his house, carrying a guitar. The old guy, sits by the curb, and starts strumming a song. Our hero is drawn to the tune. He takes out his guitar and starts playing with the old guy. And then --- better read the web-comic before I start revealing too much.

What is it that makes a story interesting? What makes an idea start out and turn into something interesting to read and compelling to follow?

My wife is caught up with Gossip Girl these days. Since we don't get the episodes in regular programming in Cebu, she shops for the DVD version, or video-streams it as soon as the next episode is ready for streaming on the Internet. I sat down with her on one or two episodes and discovered that the idea behind the story is: For all their riches and comfort, what makes New York's high society children tick?

It's a simple question -- a rather inocuous idea, really -- to start with. But it's spawned a season and a half in the States and seems to be going strong.

I've recently taken up rereading the Forgotten Realms. It's as compelling as ever. In between Gossip Girl and the Forgotten Realms, Tolkien holds the same fascination that gripped me when I first opened The Hobbit in my freshman year in DBTHS. What makes a story so interesting? What makes an idea so compelling, you just have to give birth to it -- to quote Ian -- and see to its fruition.

People are brimming with ideas all the time. And that's good. But the real geniuses are those who dare to think these ideas and actually do something about it. In fact, Apple's done something to encourage that; their latest marketing idea, if I'm not mistaken, offers a big prize to the person whose big idea helps the most people around the world. Not bad at all. Not bad at all.

And what of our hero with the magical guitar? He's no spellsinger, definitely. Alan Dean Foster needs not worry about spellsinging and Jon-Toms popping up in this story, that's for sure.

It's an idea that's been ruminating for years, and truth be told, I've been wanting to read it. And when ideas are turned into fantastic stories about what you love most, like what Ian Z is doing, it's bringing it into reality that counts.

Being invited to collaborate is not bad, too. Not bad at all.

Living up the joys of domestic life



In two weeks, I'm celebrating two years and a half of blissful-slash-nerve-wracking married life. Why blissful? Because I did meet my better half. Why nerve-wracking? Because I did meet my BETTER half. Men are not given to introspective sentimentality, and truly not even the fantasy fic aficionados like me go as far as to say they're living the romance of their lives.

But I will say one thing, and set the record straight for guys who've found love, despite what their emotional and genetic predisposition make them out to be: The joys of domestic life IS what they say it to be.

I'm no expert -- hell, no. I didn't take psychology in college, either. I come from a family that's been torn by pain and betrayal, with each member willing to step on the other to get ahead (and if you don't believe me, check out the prev post -- yes, my family's a great example of the institution).

I've recently patched things up with my mom, and last May, my sister and I had a long expository IM dialogue where we confronted our own demons, our animosity to each other -- and in the process, swore at each other, and ended past chapters and healed old wounds. So, when my sister came home to visit, it was all good. My relationship with my older bro, on the other hand, is a lot different. I'm not sure when we'll ever be mature and understanding of each other. Some sibling rivalries just go too deep for for any recovery and reconciliation, I guess. My youngest bro, Jonathan, is a pretty laidback guy. We get along pretty good -- at least, I'd like to believe so, seeing as how our mother favored both my bro and sis over us. We became close growing up. But then, he entered the seminary, and I took up writing. He became more understanding of other people, while the writer in me brought the anti-social out into the surface. And in an island-cosmopolitan city like Cebu, that could get pretty ugly. But it's all good. My bro lives in Mindanao now, with his own family, while my sister is in Dubai. Jonathan and I see each other more, now that we've all grown up.

Why have I turned over a new leaf? Why the sudden change in perspective? Because in the intervening time between this posting and the last one, I've finally discovered that having a family is the best feeling in the world.

To end, here's a little list i've compiled over the last 30 months. If you can relate, give me a shout, and we'll share a menthol or two.

You'll know you've experienced the joys of domestic life when...

... the wifey chides you for not wearing cologne. In college, I bought cologne but didn't use it unless it was after a football game (read: soccer). If the island sun wasn't out and the humid tropical heat wasn't in overload -- what's cologne for?

... your wardrobe upgrades and people compliment you on your improved look.

... you start looking at women differently -- from conquests to partners, secret-keepers and upper-management.

... your outlook in life shifts from insecurity to security (my wife made me realize that the things I was buying were only to cover up some personal insecurities. now, she's taught me to -- of all things -- accessorize.)

... the wifey asks you for a glass of cold water, when you're at the other end of the kitchen, while she's two steps from the refrigerator.

... the cat scratches on your legs and you don't mind them that much anymore.

... the wifey stops laughing at your cheesy jokes -- it makes you get your a** up from the couch and put a little effort in your punchlines.

... domestic violence means teasing your wife about her little pet peeves and then getting two or three in the ribs, a lazy overhand to the temple and an knee as you go down in surprise. (I wonder how much the fees are in that new BJJ gym in Asiatown IT Park.... )

... the wifey gives you that look in the middle of your office-stress rant, and suddenly, everything else is a little better.

... the wifey puts her foot down on buying cream cheese every other day.

... you both look at each other and silently agree to say nothing at all, and just enjoy an quiet evening together.

The joys of domestic life do not come easy to everyone, and things may get to the point of either the pinnacle of frustration, or languid and phlegmatic ennui -- maybe that's what happened in my parents' marriage, or it could have been the former -- which often breeds jealousy and even more insecurity. There is no trick to discovering and enjoying the domestic life. It's a lifestyle you learn to enjoy as you go along.






Penumbra: October 25 is pretty special for my wife and myself because it is exactly six months, after we got vowed before God to live as husband and wife. It is also the same day I was formally introduced to my father-in-law, and when Joyce and I undertook the Muslim rituals of matrimony.