I had an interesting friend in high school I was thinking about recently.  He was the kind of old friend I hung out with and I’d like to get back in touch with via Facebook, except I can’t.  He got a brain tumor and died some years ago.

The thing I was thinking about was how he had the best sense of whimsy of anyone I’ve ever known.  You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, or even talking to him a few minutes.  It was a hidden, subtle whimsy, a sort of amusement with the world.

Except what made him special was that when the world got a little too boring, he’d weird it up for his own pleasure.

Here is the sort of thing he would do. He would find something small and interesting like a plastic dinosaur, or novelty pen, or a piece of candy, and very carefully, very anonymously, put it into someone’s pocket.

Sometime later, when he was around, or maybe when he wasn’t, they would find the strange odd thing there, with no explanation for how it had arrived there in their pocket.  And, generally speaking, he rarely if ever told anyone he was responsible.

He was, in short, a putpocket.

Thinking of you today, Henry.  Life is short.  Make it a little more whimsical.

Originally published at Mike Brotherton: SF Writer. You can comment here or there.

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As a writer and artist, I’ve always put premise first.  That is, when I invent a story or an idea for a painting, I always think about the basic situation.  It’s a science fiction story about discovering a new kind of alien life form in a novel astronomical setting, or a painting of wolves surrounding a woman in the woods.

Some people work very differently from this, starting with character, mood, style, something else, of course.

No one element makes a great story, painting, or movie.  I can like horror movies in general, but dislike individual movies for being too slow, too confusing, badly acted, whatever.

And just as a man has his preferred type, or a woman is looking for “tall, dark, and handsome,” give them what they want and they’re still not happy most of the time.  Because that ideal type only has the right premise.  The execution is in the character, mood, style.  In writing, it’s how the book turns on the page, whether or not it’s engaging or satisfying.

I’ve met some attractive women I was initially very interested in, but lost that feeling as I got to see them beyond their “premise,” if you will.  And I’m sure plenty of woman have discovered that the tall, handsome guy is as dumb and boring as a brick.

By the same token, I don’t like country-western songs.  Give the greatest one ever to listen to, one that millions of people love, and I’ll probably tolerate it but won’t love it.  Give me the blondest, dumbest, giggliest, gorgeous Playboy pin-up with D-cup bolt-ons, and I won’t love her, not in a meaningful way, and probably won’t find her that attractive.

There’s the objective to art and people, and then there’s the subjective experience, and usually both are necessary to be fully satisfied.

I guess in a way this relates back to my post about how stories can be seen as seduction.  I think it’s interesting to find metaphors between social interaction and art.  I guess that’s one reason I like to write fiction, and it’s sometimes a fascinating way of seeing relationships.

Don Henley once wrote in the song Drivin’ with your eyes closed, that “women are the only works of art.”  I submit that we all are, in the eyes of each other, and we can open our eyes and see that — literally and metaphorically.

Originally published at Mike Brotherton: SF Writer. You can comment here or there.

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