Misc. Ramblings

Sarcasm; It’s Not for Everyone

KWhipkey 3 Comments

By now I’m sure you’ve gleaned that sarcasm and I are BFF’s. And if you haven’t, let me spell it out for you; sarcasm and I are BFF’s. There, don’t you feel enlightened? 😉

But while I’m a huge fan of the cleverly timed sarcastic quip, not everyone is. Some people fail to see the humor in wittily worded insults and beautifully snide observations. (There must be something wrong with them. Who doesn’t love some clever, snarky banter?) Just like I fail to see the humor in Slap-Stick, Blunder or Practical Jokes. (Which no one will ever convince me are anything but dumb and ridiculous.) I mean, really, why is it hysterical when some moron hits himself in the groin? Or falls over trying something that’s obviously going to end with a concussion and broken bones? Or farts. Seriously, just farts. Comedic genius? I think not.

I was often told growing up that I didn’t have a sense of humor. But as I got older, I realized that, no, I just didn’t have their sense of humor. And that didn’t mean I was/am completely devoid of appreciation for all things humorous. I’m just particular about it. Which brings us to the point of this week’s rather short installment.

Humor is subjective.

And I don’t believe that any one type of humor is better than another. Really, I don’t, I swear! (She says with fingers crossed behind her back.) The important thing is that something makes you laugh. And for better or for worse, sarcasm, (along with irony and satire), is it for me.

Why is it the perfect mate for my breed of humor? I’m not really sure. Maybe I was hard-wired that way. Maybe it’s a by-product of growing up on shows like Friends and Seinfeld, (which I’m only slightly embarrassed to admit I still watch daily on re-run). Maybe it’s because it lets me be a snarky ass and get away with it, earning me approval points instead of derision. Or maybe it’s because I can’t resist pointing out when someone does something painfully obvious and stupid.

But most probably, it’s because, in my eyes, sarcasm requires the most intelligence to pull off successfully. And I find intelligence on anyone sexy. To me, it doesn’t seem like it would require much straining of the brain to conjure up jokes revolving around disgusting bodily functions, or to create ridiculous scenarios the audience can see coming a mile away. And don’t even get me started on the number of beyond-retarded things people post on Youtube–a phenomena I have yet to be overly amused by, but that will entertain my husband for hours upon days upon weeks. Half the time, when he shows me a montage of some idiot doing things even idiots should know better than to try, he’s met with the dead-pan stare and raised eyebrow that says, why? Why would you waste my time with that? I just don’t get it. Sorry. But billions of people do, apparently. Hence the long-standing success of America’s Funniest Home Videos, a show whose sole purpose is to crown the royalty of morons with $10,000 for their stupidity. Just saying.

As a writer, I have a fine sense of appreciation for the brilliant usage of words. Which, in the humor department, usually stands hand in hand with sarcasm. I like it because it’s subtle. It doesn’t stand in the room with a neon sign flashing over it’s head screaming, “laugh now!” It’s simply a statement of the obvious. A twisted and bitter version perhaps, but still. It’s put out there and just is. You either find it funny, or you don’t. The validity of the statement isn’t void if no one finds it funny. It makes the person who said it seem like a pretentious d-bag, but the observation still stands. Case in point, I’m sure those of you that adore videos of people doing stupid things would agree that I now sound like a judgmental jerk.

But fear not, the beauty of humor is that it can often be combined, appealing to several comedic preferences at once.

Below is one of the few videos that I’ve found (ok, had force-fed to me because I rarely ever hang out on Youtube) that combines both idiocy and sarcasm, and does it well. Copyright belongs to the brilliant minds of Break Originals and I make no claims to it. I just thoroughly enjoy it and am not ashamed to say I still laugh every time I watch it. Making it the perfect way to close a post about humor. Enjoy!

Warning: Contains heavy sarcasm, people being injured, and country music. And I’m pretty sure a few exercise balls were harmed in the making of this video.

Who, (or Rather What), is the Nightwolf?

KWhipkey 4 Comments

I get this question a lot. So in the interest of heading off that curiosity before it floods my inbox with repeated queries, I figured I’d explain for all those secretly dying to know. Which I would guess is currently no one, based on the silence from my Contact page. I was going to put it in my FAQ for those few who might be interested, but as I was writing, I realized it was a longer story than was appropriate for that location, and I wasn’t satisfied with the shortened version. So here goes.

(Warning: Self-Indulgence Alert! The following information is solely about me and will provide no insights into anything but my thought process. Sarcasm will still be included, but if you were looking for tips on writing, art, or opinions on whatever, this week probably isn’t for you. If you choose to skip it, I won’t be insulted. Much.  😉 )

Contrary to popular speculation, the Nightwolf is not me. Well, not in the sense of a pen-name or nickname. Although, to be fair, I have used it that way before. But no, I don’t typically run around printing Nightwolf on those little red & white “My Name Is” badges. Not if I’m trying to be serious, anyway. If I want to be an anonymous jackass, sure.

Nor do I suffer from a Jekyll & Hyde situation, becoming a homicidal werewolf when the moon is full and wreaking havoc on downtown Vancouver. At least, not that I’m aware of. I haven’t seen any news articles about random wolf attacks, so I’m gonna say we’re safe.

It’s not the name of my car (popular theory #2 thanks to the windshield tag and vanity plates that scream it to the world), which has only ever been black while sporting those plates once. And I only wish I was lucky enough to have that be the translation of my name, which is Russian for “kitten”, in case you were wondering.

No, the Nightwolf is a character I created when I was 11, dreaming of owning an animation studio that rivaled Disney. The origin of the name? Well, he’s a black wolf. Brilliant, I know. But what did you expect from an 11 year old?

Originally, he had no personality, or even a gender, although I’ve always referred to him as a he. Maybe he is some version of an alter-ego….a masculine, lupine, super-hero side whose mission is to save the world from lack of creativity? Nah, more likely I was just influenced by the super beefy, anonymous, white wolf in Balto that made me want to animate. Ironically, later movies have shown that wolf to be female, but I still think it’s a dude. That’s one burly girl otherwise.

Anyway, he wasn’t a full-fledged character. As I mentioned above, he was a one-dimensional creature whose sole purpose was to announce the beginning of every movie Nightwolf Productions (the name of my fictitious studio) released. Like the castle image that opens every Disney film, or the animated lamps that herald the start of a Pixar masterpiece. And true to the nature of a logo, it was super complicated. It featured the Nightwolf standing on a cliff, backed by an impossibly large moon. He howled, then turned to face the audience, unveiling the glowing yellow eyes that are his trademark. The company name would illuminate around the edge of the moon and the movie would start. Impressive, right? But, again, did you really expect cinematic genius from an 11 year old?

Eventually he started to evolve, as I realized I wanted something decidedly less bland that would set me apart, transforming into a Living Logo, as I dubbed it. Meaning he would still grace the beginning of every movie, but be integrated into the opening sequence instead of just a static logo tacked on the front. I started to think of him as an omnipresent god of storytelling that dictated what the audience got to see. This was before Dreamworks and Pixar burst onto the scene with their ever-changing logos and subsequently shattered my hopes at originality. But it does show the first flicker of what the Nightwolf would ultimately become.

At this point in the timeline, I was around 18/19/20, and wrapped up in all the emotional drama that entailed. Testing my wings of independence and failing miserably. Trying to find my way through 4 different colleges, and about 5 different majors. Moving out again, then crawling back home with my tail between my legs when that blew up in my face too. You know, all the joys that being a young adult brings. The only constant was my dream of animating/writing/drawing/whatever-as-long-as-it-was-creative. A dream that was embodied by the Nightwolf.

Fast forward to 2005/2006 and the realization that I was short-changing one of the most important characters in my repertoire. Of all the hundreds of thousands of characters I’d created, the Nightwolf was definitely the flag-ship. And I had relegated him to the background. Doomed him to be nothing more than a pretty image without substance.  But he was more than that. He did have an actual story and deserved to have it told! I decided then, that his would be the tale to launch my writing career, just as he had fanned the flames of my animation dreams so long ago. And I’d had enough questions about whether or not Nightwolf was the name of my car, by then, to irritate me into action. A girl can only repeat herself so many times before going postal on some innocent who made the mistake of asking, after all.

My first attempt was actually a poem. Why a poem? God only knows, because I don’t write poetry. Ever. And true to form, it was atrocious. But it introduced the idea that the Nightwolf was a supernatural creature that could be sought, a guardian over the realms of creativity. Sound familiar?

Round two was a marginally better written short story. It was told in first person and centered around the never-identified narrator choosing to become the Nightwolf’s anchor–a link to the “real” world that allowed him to move freely from his realm to the realm of humans. Which led me to realize that to tell his story properly, he required a partner, a woman whose identity was essentially void–Nameless. I’m not really sure exactly where the idea came from, aside from a token nod to Nemo by Nightwish and Main Title by Christophe Beck from the Elektra Soundtrack, but finally, through her, the Nightwolf had a voice.

There was only one flaw with Nameless, (ok, only one notable flaw, anyway); it was boring. Written in overly flowery prose, trying too hard for atmospheric awesomeness and completely devoid in plot. (My writing group co-founder can attest to this.) But I refused to give up on the concept. Even though several iterations and quite a few resounding “no’s” from magazines whispered that maybe it wasn’t a premise worth pursuing.

Which brings us to The Bardach.

About 42 revisions later, (including at least one complete overhaul), a massive boost in plot, a few new characters and a definitive explanation of both Nameless (aka Amyli Farenscal) and the Nightwolf, and I finally had what I was searching for–a story that was as interesting to the rest of the world as it was to me. Or so I tell myself. Please don’t burst my bubble either.

After attaining the seal of approval from my writing group partners, I sent The Bardach (also a short story, by the way, but significantly longer than Nameless) out into the world of publishing. This wasn’t my first foray into the jungle, as I’m sure you gathered, and I already had a hefty stack of rejections for my previous, admittedly weak, attempts. So I was realistic and  expected nothing, while secretly hoping that this time would be the one–the time I got published.

And it was.

True to prediction, the Nightwolf  paved the way for my writing career to finally get off the ground. Marginally. I remember staring at that coveted acceptance letter, unable to comprehend what it said until someone else read it for me. You’d think I’d been accepted to Harvard or won the lottery or something. But I’d finally done it. I’d published something. Which meant that at least one other person thought the Nightwolf’s story was worth reading. Not a family member, who has to like what I write out of obligation, or my writing group partners, whose encouragement is kind of the point of writing group, but an Editor. One of those notoriously fickle creatures that can single-handedly decide whether you suck as a writer or not. It was even deemed worthy enough to grace the cover of Shelter of Daylight‘s inaugural issue, an honor I’m eternally grateful for.

But The Bardach was only a small glimpse of the Nightwolf’s story, an introduction and precursor to the full-length novel I hope to finish one day. In the meantime, though, he still serves double-duty as the logo for my barely-there freelance art career and continues to grace the top of my windshield like a racing tag. So you haven’t heard the last of him. Who knows? Maybe his novel will be the one to land me on the NY Times Bestseller list. Someday. If I can ever get out of the mire of my current novel-in-progress, (which has absolutely nothing to do with the Nightwolf, just FYI).

And that, my friends, concludes the rather long-winded history behind “Nightwolf”. Succinctly put, he’s my muse. And I could’ve just said that in my FAQ, but would you really have understood what it meant without all the back-story? You probably would’ve just thought me insane, and possibly Schizophrenic, hearing voices for a personality that doesn’t exist. And that’s an impression I wasn’t keen on leaving. I have enough shades of crazy without adding Multiple Personality Disorder to the list.

(End Self-indulgence Alert. We can now return to our regularly scheduled snarkiness. )

The Original Nightwolf Productions LogoThe Original Nightwolf Productions Logo Sketch

by Kisa Whipkey

Copyright: 1999
All Rights Reserved

Why Do You…(Insert Creative Verb Here)?

KWhipkey 3 Comments

This is probably the most asked question of creative people–sometimes even by other creative people. And it’s one of the more irritating ones, because it’s such a hard thing to quantify. It’s like asking someone why their eyes are blue, or why they were born in the morning. How do you answer that? So, understandably, the answers to why someone’s creative vary wildly depending on the person. You’ll hear things like,

“I’m not sure, I just do.”

“Because it makes me happy.”

“Because it’s therapy for me; it helps me express myself.”

And my personal favorite, “I do it for me.”

Now the truth is, all of these answers are sugar-coated, watered-down replies meant to make the artist look more artsy; to make the listener think, “ooo, aren’t they cool? They’re so mysterious and vague.” Personal satisfaction is great, but you go to the gym for personal satisfaction, you don’t pour weeks, months, years, heart and soul into a project just for personal satisfaction. I mean, don’t answers like that just seem so full of themselves? Why narcissism is encouraged within the arts is beyond me, but the more self-involved the answer, the more prestige points an artist receives. And the more frequently you’ll hear responses like the above.

Personally, I view every one of those answers as a cop out. Because ultimately, statements like that are rarely true. And before you get up on your high horse and scream “controversy!” while flooding my comment box with all the reasons I’m wrong, hear me out. If creativity is such a personal thing (which I’m actually not arguing, because it is), why would anyone share its products? All those artists, authors, and musicians that claim they only create for themselves are lying. The proof is in the sheer fact that they made said creation available for public consumption. If it was truly just for them, it would be stashed in a vault somewhere, guarded by large, vicious dogs and fiercely protected until it’s location was lost in the afterlife. Not put on public display for all to judge. But that’s not the case, is it? Because these artists shared their work with the world.

(The only exception may be personal diaries and journals, which are never truly intended to be shared, but in reality, are almost always found and read anyway.)

When I’m asked this question of why I (insert creative verb here), I have a generalized, self-important, prosaic answer that I’ll give. (Who doesn’t want to earn some prestige points?) I simply say that the reason I (chosen creative verb of the moment) is that I never realized not (doing said creative verb) was an option. And this is partly true. Creativity just came naturally. Like breathing. But just like the answers I listed above, that lovely little sound bite, while somewhat accurate, is not the real motivator behind my masterpieces. (See? Don’t I just automatically sound more brilliant because I called them that?)

The brutal, honest truth is something none of us “Artistes” like to admit, because it makes us seem desperate and needy, and those two adjectives are a far cry from cool and mysterious. We don’t want to be put in the same category as your psycho ex that Facebook stalks you. But the reason all those artists, authors, and musicians are trying to hide from, is we create because we want validation. Public approval. Fame, Glory and all that jazz. Just like when we were little kids and we ran to Mommy looking for approval on our latest blob of mismatched crayon wax with no anatomy whatsoever that we were certain looked like the cat, waiting for the glowing ooze of motherly love to pour over us, we offer up the fruits of our labor to the public eye. With the sole intent of being lavished in praise about our awesomeness.

When you think about it, it’s not really that hard to see why this is the real motivator behind creativity. It’s the same reason that we post status updates several times a day and then check back obsessively, waiting for those little thumbs up signs to appear that means someone likes us, someone agreed. We’re cool. It’s human nature to seek praise from those around us; it makes us feel good, worthwhile, valued. Does that mean all artists are shallow, attention-seeking ho-bags? No. Do we all secretly want to preen while you sing our praises and tell us how awesome we are, so we can humbly pretend we didn’t already know that? You betcha.

Ultimately, though, it’s about receiving feedback of any kind, (although preferably of the worship-my-brilliance variety) that motivates us to hit that upload button, to submit that manuscript, or to step out on that stage. It’s often said that creativity doesn’t happen in a vacuum. And I 100% agree. Without that input from others, your creative side will shrivel and die like a thirsty plant locked in a closet. Which is why, whenever someone answers with the angelically selfish response of , “I (whatever) for me,” I find myself annoyed. Why is it ok to feed your narcissitic ego by pretending that success means nothing to you because you don’t care what anyone else thinks, but not ok to admit the truth? You did it for the same reason I do–to feel good when others tell you your creation is something wonderful.

And for those out there that feel this question is a perfectly legitimate conversation starter, it’s really not. You’re just going to be lied to. Few of us will man up and admit, “I did it to be rich and famous, duh.” You’re much better off asking questions that actually have quantifiable answers. Things that ask why we do things a certain way, or what did we mean with X, instead of something as innocuous as why do you create?

Hey, nobody said honesty always had to be pretty. And I did warn you that snarky rants were a definite possibility. But let the barrage of offended comments commence anyway. 😉

The Nuances of Storytelling

KWhipkey 3 Comments

What Do I Know About It?

Blogging. I always swore it would be one trend that I wouldn’t follow. I didn’t have anything of value to say, nor did I want to dedicate the time it would take to regularly maintain such worthless ramblings. But now that everyone and their brother has joined the world of online diaries, I find myself bitten by the blog-bug. And here I am. Blogging.

So what changed? Why, now, do I suddenly feel like I have something to say? Because, in short, I do.  Because I can’t die having been nothing more than a Secretary. (I will seriously have to come haunt the world just so I can feel like I’ve done something worthwhile if that’s the case.) And because I’ve realized that maybe I have something to offer– a legacy, if you will.

What is this grand epiphany? My unique version of Storytelling. I’ve long dreamed of being a prolific author, envisioning my name on the spines of a whole shelf of books, a weighty list of “Other Works By” printed on the inside page of every one. But I’ve also dreamed, for nearly as long, of being an animator, breathing life into images that leave an audience grinning in kid-like wonder. And then, a small, semi-secret part of me, has often wished to be a famous choreographer, but since I took Martial Arts instead of Dance, this manifested in a successful stint as Demo Team Captain/Creator. All of these separate identities, as it were, led me to realize that this strange concoction of experiences– one part writer, one part artist, one part martial arts instructor, made up one rather interesting creative persona. Simply, Storyteller.

Whatever the medium I found myself dabbling in, the goal was always the same– to tell an entertaining story that allowed my audience to escape the real world for a little while. I even earned a degree in it. Video Game Design is definitely a field devoted to reality escapism. But I promptly turned my back on that flash-in-the-pan career choice, taking my hefty burden of student loans and returning to my roots of writing alongside a shaky foray into the world of Freelance Art. All the while, learning to define myself not by the medium I worked in, but by my ever present goal– telling a good story.

Which brings us to now, and this blog. My thesis, if you want to call it that, for this experiment in public journal writing, is to offer the secrets I’ve gleaned about my particular blend of storytelling; a creature rooted in the visual, inherently cinematic workings of my brain. All while keeping the bitter tirades to a minimum. Or not. Depends on the day. Angst-filled Cynicism is one of my specialties, after all.

Am I an expert? Not even close. Do I have something that can help you anyway? I’d like to think so.  So whether you choose to follow me because you find me interesting and/or entertaining, or because you feel obligated by knowing me, or because you’ve been bribed by someone who knows me, I hope you’ll enjoy the ride. It will likely be filled with thoughts ranging from constructive tips to frustrated ramblings about writing, art, martial arts, and maybe even a few thoughts on my supposed certified field– video games. (I should probably use that expensive piece of paper for something, right?)  I can’t guarantee that everything I write here will be a gem of wisdom, but somewhere in there, you might just find something unique and worth the trouble of reading for.

Welcome to Nightwolf’s Corner. Stay awhile. Let’s see where the journey takes us.