No shame in loving "dumb" movies

© 2015 CTMG, Inc.

I have to be very careful sometimes when I talk about movies I like.

When you’re in any group of “serious” movie fans, those of us who talk about awards season like people in movies talk about horse races, there are certain standards you’re expected to uphold. Anything that won a major award is usually acceptable – the Academy Awards or the Golden Globes are always safe, though you get extra points if you can get something slightly more obscure.

Even better is if the movie was nominated, but lost to something that wasn’t quite as “good” but came from a bigger studio. In general, your favorite films should be mostly dramas, though Wes Anderson’s movies (“The Grand Budapest Hotel,” “Moonrise Kingdom”) get a special exemption.
Major blockbusters may be liked under certain circumstances, but only if they’re well made. It helps if you can spin some explanation of how, for example, all the explosions are really symbolic of the destruction of modern society. (It goes without saying that you have to say all of this with a straight face).

I’ve seen many of these movies, and there were some of them I actually liked. As a former English Literature major, I can talk about the thematic significance of nearly anything, which meant that even if I didn’t like a movie I can talk about it in appropriately serious tones.

But I’m tired of hiding the fact that there’s a part of me that absolutely adores dumb movies. Though I haven’t seen the sequel, I actually liked “Paul Blart: Mall Cop.” (I actually had to physically fight the urge to go back and delete that sentence out of embarrassment, or qualify it with something like “even though I know how stupid it is.” Truthfully, I’m still fighting it, and it’s hard enough that I’ll be amazed if this entire paragraph makes it online).

I love the most ridiculous action movies, the kind that defy both common sense and the laws of physics, and want to be able to gush about my love of “Furious 7” without apologizing for how wonderfully absurdist it is. I want to be able to watch Reese Witherspoon use a terrible Texas accent (at least, I think it was a Texas accent) and fall over stuff in “Hot Pursuit” without having to pretend I wished it were something like “Wild.”

I will admit that Witherspoon was really good in “Wild,” a tough, searching movie about grief and self-identity. But do you know one thing it wasn’t? Fun. And sometimes, all I want to do when I go to a movie is switch my brain off and watch idiots crash into each other onscreen.

So if you honestly want to see a movie, go no matter how many insults movie critics or your “serious” movie friends pile on its head. Even if I’m the one lambasting the movie, feel free to ignore me if that’s what you want. If you end up deciding I was right, e-mail me and we can trash the movie together.

But if it turns out that you love it – or even like it just fine – there’s nothing wrong with that. Shout your love from the rooftops.  No matter how “dumb” the movie is, there’s absolutely no reason to be ashamed.

Yes, even if it’s “Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2.”

Getting to Know You: Beauty (the Kat Dennings edition, not the Emma Watson one)

Photo from katdennings.com

Because I like to torture my characters in small ways as well as large ones, I will occasionally make them fill out those “getting to know you” questionnaires (this one came from http://www.signupgenius.com/groups/getting-to-know-you-questions.cfm).  This one is from Beauty, one of the lead characters in my new book “Beast Charming.”

1. Who is your hero? 

My older sister, Grace. She pretty much raised me, and is definitely the reason I haven’t been arrested yet.

2. What was your favorite family vacation?

Technically, being abandoned in the woods probably doesn’t count as a family vacation, but the ogre that found us was incredibly nice. He had some absolutely hilarious stories about his grandchildren, and was really good at making cookies.

3. If you could choose to do anything for the day, what would it be?

Read. Drop me in the middle of a well-stocked library with snacks, and you won’t see me for a week.

4. What did you want to be when you were small? 

A dragon. The idea of having teeth and claws, as well as being able to fly, all appealed to me even when I was a kid.

5. Do you like or dislike surprises? Why? 

Strongly dislike, because when you work with dragons, knights, witches and sorceresses on a regular basis there’s at least a 30 percent chance the surprise will kill you. And even if it doesn’t, it usually does something like turning you green for a week. I definitely don’t recommend the experience.

6. What’s your biggest complaint about your job? 

Well, like I said – the potential for death is annoying. But not quite as annoying as getting locked in a tower with this one particular shut-in who keeps coming up with fake jobs so she can tell us all about the sweaters she knits (with her own hair, apparently – don’t ask).

7. What’s your favorite thing about your job?

It’s hard to get bored when you’re picking armor out of a dragon’s teeth one week and helping a group of dwarves baby-proof their home the next week (they’d decided to adopt a human girl. I’m hoping for everyone’s sake that she grows up short).

8. Who would you want to be stranded with on a desert island?

For company, I’d have to say Beast (I’ll admit, I’m a little prejudiced). But for practicality, I really should say Waverly – he’d figure out a way to get us both back to civilization before nightfall hit.

9. What was your first job?

Technically, it wasn’t a job, but Father would dress Grace and I in rags and sneak us into the palace to pretend we were serving girls. I’m not exactly sure what the next step was supposed to be – no matter how much he likes to think otherwise, Father really isn’t that great at planning.

10. Who is your favorite author? 

Jenniffer thinks that she’s being so clever by putting this one in here, but I’m not about to let her get away with it so easily. So I’ll say Terry Pratchett. 

My superhero (for a few minutes, at least)

Sometimes, the smallest things can have the biggest impact on people. You may never even realize that you've done anything at all.

I was at my second signing of the day for "Beast Charming," an independent bookstore that had barely anyone in it. The few people who were there couldn't have cared less about the book, a fact that become even more ludicrous when they insisted I still do a reading. The seats were absolutely empty, except for my best friend in the front and the one dude who'd taken over planning the event (which was no help. It was literally his job to be there.)

So I started the reading, feeling profoundly stupid and just trying to power through it. Occasionally someone would wander through the back, not even slowing down slightly on their way to wherever they were going. I kept going – the people who'd asked me here still clearly wanted me to do it, no matter how ridiculous it was – but I told myself I could stop whenever I just couldn't take it anymore. Every paragraph, I was sure I would give up at the next one.  

Then I saw a guy in the back – clearly following his girlfriend around – who actually sort of looked like he was listening. His girlfriend couldn't have cared less about the reading, her focus clearly on whatever book she was looking for, but the guy's head was cocked in a certain way that happens when you've got an ear on something that's not in front of you. And when she left, wandering on to another section of shelving, he actually stayed and listened. Not even halfway this time – body turned completely to me, focus on me, leaning a little against the edge of a bookcase like he'd settled in for the duration. 

I have no idea why – he was actually on the complete opposite end of the spectrum of the book's potential target audience, so I can't imagine he was actually interested. But the fact that he was there, honestly listening without being obligated to (another employee wandered over after he did), was such an immense shot of comfort and courage. I went all the way through the reading I'd planned, and it was all because of him.

If it hadn't been so wildly inappropriate – like I said, girlfriend – I would have hugged him. As it was, I hope he had an amazing rest of the day. He deserved it.

Monsters

They say monsters

have no reflection.

But why bother making one

if you can't punish it?

The world is full

of shiny surfaces,

and every distorted glimpse

of who they'd once been

will whisper "monster"

far more loudly

than torches. – j.w.

Night owls, sleep, and making peace with mornings

http://cliparts.co/sleeping-clip-art-free

Sleep and I have a complicated relationship.

I’ll admit, I’m much more fond of it than I used to be. Going to bed was the worst kind of chore when I was a kid, somehow worse than doing dishes or even weeding the garden. I had to lie there, close my eyes and do absolutely nothing, because if I talked or read or sang that meant I wasn’t sleeping. I thought that sleeping was the most boring thing in the entire world, and I resented giving up every second my precious evening I had to give up in order to sleep.

Now, though, there are some nights when I’m utterly, gloriously relieved to collapse into bed. When I don’t have the physical or mental energy left to do more than stare at walls (or late night television, which is only slightly more interesting than the blank wall at times), sleep can feel like a glorious reward for a job well done.

Still, that’s only on some nights. If I have any kind of energy left, I’d much rather be reading a book, catching up on the DVRd episodes of my favorite show, or talking to a friend. Sometimes, I’d even rather be cleaning, because there are some nights when 1 a.m. feels like the perfect time to scrub the sinks or sweep the kitchen floor. You might question the sanity of the thought the next morning, but it’s hard to argue with the fact that your house is now slightly cleaner

Like many night owls, I’ve even made my peace with having to be functional the next morning. We have all kinds of tricks to make it through the first half of the day, most of which involve snooze alarms, large amounts of caffeine, and trying to arrange your schedule so you don’t have to do any complicated thinking until after noon.

You also get good at narrowing your sleep schedule as far as you can get away with, sneaking out a few extra minutes of consciousness anywhere you can. I’ve gotten really good at knowing exactly how much sleep I need to be a reasonable facsimile of a human being, and mostly try to stay in that general area. As long as I sound relatively coherent, no one seems to notice.

The thing is, though, that I notice. Living like this means that, while I get to keep my nights, I’m sleepwalking my way through at least half my morning. There’s a lot of stuff you miss when you’re only at 50 percent capacity, or even 75 percent, and most of that are those nice-but-unnecessary things that help make life worth living. I’m convinced that nights are better than mornings, but what if that’s because nights are the only part of my life I’m fully awake for?

So maybe I’ll start considering sleep a priority instead of an annoying chore I’m forced to do. I don’t want to give up my nights completely, but if I hand over a little bit of them – by going to bed at midnight instead of 1:30 a.m., maybe – then maybe I’ll have a little more brainpower to experience my morning with. Only then will I really be able to judge whether sunlight is worth all the fuss everyone else seems to make over it.

Online "Beast Charming" review party (with prizes!)

I know a lot of you guys don't live in Utah like I do, but that doesn't mean you can't join in on my launch party. Anyone who submits a review of "Beast Charming" to any site on March 28 (this Saturday!) – Amazon, Goodreads, Barnes and Noble, Google Play, etc. – and sends a link to jennifferwardell@gmail.com will get entered into a contest for one of three prizes (your choice):

1) An e-book copy of "Beast Charming" 
2) A short story (between 800-1200 words, depending on where inspiration takes me) featuring your character of choice from either "Fairy Godmothers, Inc." or "Beast Charming." 
3) A character in the book I'm currently working on (working title: "Piper's Song") will be named after you or the name of your choice (no joke names, though, unless you can really make me laugh with it). 

The more reviews you post, the more entries you'll get into the contest (reviews posted before 3/28 will be included, as long as you message me and let me know they're there).

Note: I will also consider "Fairy Godmothers, Inc." reviews - I know not everyone has "Beast Charming" yet - but they have to be dated March 28 to count). 

UPDATE:
To make sure as many people as possible get a chance to enter, I'm extending the contest throughout the entire month of April. Happy reading! 

"Beast Charming" alternate scenes: A Sinking Sensation

This is an unused back story for James, aka Beast, from a much, much earlier draft of  "Beast Charming" (so no real spoilers if you haven't read the book). For me, the most hilarious thing about this is that there was once an entire version of the novel written in first person.

Chapter 2
A Sinking Sensation (Beast)

Looking back, it was not one of my more intelligent moments.

The entire fiasco was not, however, entirely my fault. Iliana looked at first glance exactly like every other predatory young thing that always crowded balls like this, giggling and fluttering her eyelashes at each and every available lordling in the immediate vicinity. If that weren’t enough of a cheat, her ice-blond hair had been piled on her head in a complicated style that all-too-conveniently hid the pointed tips of her ears from the unsuspecting.

I, naturally, had retreated to the library, drink in hand and a large chair blocking the only entrance. Just because Waverly insisted that it was part of my duty to hold a ball once a year didn’t mean that I actually had to attend the thing – as long as I let them use the space and paid for the hors devours, I considered my part in the festivities amply fulfilled.

Also, I was hiding. The fairy godmothers had published a list the year before rating the eligible noble males in the kingdom, and to my horror I had several gold wands beside my name – a title slightly more impressive than most of the young men within reach, a respectable amount of money to back that title and, thanks to a nasty curtain accident several years previous, no annoying father to stand in my way. Together, they added up to a picture that was irresistibly and unfortunately attractive to several members of the opposite sex, and they along with their mothers declared me the top target on their list of suitable prey

Sadly, the additional point that I was also a moody, sarcastic little snot did little to significantly change my standing, no matter how often I tried to advertise this particular aspect of my personality. Though I had managed to scare off one or two women, most didn’t have enough idea of what I was talking about to be offended. Hence the library, and the thick, heavy wooden doors ready to stand guard between me and massed femininity outside.

Unfortunately, my butler refused to see the genius of my plan. When the door creaked open, I set down my glass and picked up the heaviest book within reach, but it was only Waverly ready with another drink and a disapproving expression. “Can I get you anything, sir?” he asked in a faintly pained voice. “Perhaps some hermit rags and a long white beard?”

“Go show the guests how hilarious you are,” I hissed, taking the drink out of his hand and making shooing motions with the other. “And leave me alone until the uninvited guests are gone. Who knows who could have followed you?”

Waverly rolled his eyes. “Heaven forbid you should actually have to speak to someone, sir. Who knows what tragedy could strike.” Still, he closed the door, and with a deep sense of satisfaction I locked it behind him.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to stop it from opening again a few minutes later. “Waverly, I told you ….”

“You could tell me more.” I swore at the distinctly feminine voice, and cringed at the pale, delicate looking creature that swept into the room and shut the door behind her. “I have been looking for you the entire evening, my lord. I’ve heard so many lovely things about you.”

My eyes narrowed at her. “That door was locked. How in Grimm’s name did you get in here?”
She lifted an elegant shoulder. “Magic, my lord. What else?”

Okay, maybe that should have been a clue. Still, as warning signs went it was unfortunately small – anyone could bribe a fairy godmother and get the same effect. “Fine” I growled, returning to my book.  “Now use it to leave again.”

She frowned at me for a long moment, then smiled the smile of a person who has just completely dismissed the last few minutes of conversation because there’s no way they could have conceivably happened. “What a sense of humor you have.” She swept forward, hunting for a seat close to mine. “If you could only dress a little more appropriately I’m sure we could work wonderfully together ….”

I stood up, stopping to grab a dictionary as I approached her. “Let me be more specific,” I cut her off, glaring at her. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to look at you.” As her eyes began to widen, I lifted the book in a menacing manner. “And the mere thought of ‘working wonderfully’ with you makes me want to break out in hives. Leave now, before something unfortunate has to happen.”

”But …” Her breath hitched, and she splayed a delicate hand across heaving bosoms. “You don’t want to hear about my ….”

“The only thing I want to hear from you,” I snapped. “Is the sound of the door smacking you as you leave.”

I could see the tears start to glisten at the corner of her huge violet eyes, usually the sign that they were about to scurry away in defeat. I set the book down, but barely had time to take a step back before a wand was suddenly pointed at me. Then everything went black.

And, as I realized when I could open my eyes again, furry.