Now, there are hundreds, heck, thousands of books that have been turned into films.  In most cases the books were better than the movies.  I have always wondered why that is.  Books have the capacity to evoke emotion, make us feel like we are right in the action, and even scare the daylights out of us.  So they would easily translate into movies, right? Wrong.

There are many factors at play.  When an author writes a book it is solely his/her vision.  They are, in essence, the actors, the directors, the scriptwriters; they are everything they need to be to tell a story.  What they are not are producers, this title will be placed on the publishers.  On the other hand, in a movie there are actual actors, a director, one or several scriptwriters, and producers.  What happens is that when a book is adapted an author’s story is then passed through several people: the scriptwriters, the actors, the director, and even the producers.  That one person’s vision gets filtered through that many people and becomes something else entirely.

There are also other reasons why a great novel turns into a terrible movie: the scriptwriters may not understand the novel, the actors may not be suited for the parts, the director may be inept, and the producers may only be concerned with the budget.  This process can be very frustrating for the authors.  For this reason authors rarely are hired to write the screenplay of their works.

Writing a book is like giving birth, it’s a long and painful process, but in the end the results are often beautiful.  So to go back and change your ‘baby’ is something that most cannot do.  It is better to write your book and then let someone else make their movie.

There is a great quote from Ernest Hemingway about Hollywood: “Let me tell you about writing for films. You finish your book. Now, you know where the California state line is? Well, you drive right up to that line, take your manuscript and pitch it across. No, on second thought, don’t pitch it across. First. Let them toss the money over. Then you throw it over, pick up the money, and get the hell out of there.”

There are many books I’ve enjoyed reading but loathed the movie versions. My favourite author, Michael Crichton, his books never turned into good or great movies.  While the movies based on his books were successful (see Jurassic Park) they never came close to what the books were.  Whenever I read a Crichton book I always felt like I was watching a movie in my head, but unfortunately, what was written on the page never converted well onto the screen (see Congo, Timeline, Rising Sun).

Below are five titles (in no particular order) that I have enjoyed both the novels and their respective movies.

DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP?/BLADE RUNNER

Deckard, a blade runner, has to track down an d terminate 4 replicants who hijacked a ship in space and have returned to earth seeking their maker. (courtesy of IMDB)

SILENCE OF THE LAMBS

A young FBI cadet must confide in an incarcerated and manipulative killer to receive his help on catching another serial killer who skins his victims. (courtesy of IMDB)

THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER

In 1984, the USSR’s best submarine captain in their newest sub violates orders and heads for the USA. Is he trying to defect, or to start a war? (courtesy of IMDB)

THE GODFATHER

The aging patriarch of an organized crime dynasty transfers control of his clandestine empire to his reluctant son. (courtesy of IMDB)

FIGHT CLUB

An office employee and a soap salesman build a global organization to help vent male aggression. (courtesy of IMDB)

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not a fan of fantasy books.  I just don’t understand them.  I do have great respect and admiration for those who write them, though.  It takes great skills and imagination to create entire planets and characters that are not from our world.

But like millions I do know about the Lord of the Rings books by J. R. R. Tolkien.

But let me go back a bit.  The year was 2001 and it was the year the LOTR – Fellowship of the Ring movie was going to be released in theatres.

For the release of FOTR there was going to be an exhibit of the costumes and props from the movie at Casa Loma (a castle-like-house built in the early 19^th century) in Toronto.

It was also the year I turned 23 (not a big milestone, I’ll admit) and it was on my birthday that my brother decided to take me to the exhibit.

My brother, his friend, and I took the subway on a Sunday morning to Casa Loma.  We were all excited. My brother and his friend were more so than I was.  They were both huge LOTR fans while I, being a history enthusiast, was happy just to see the castle.

We slowly made our way through the castle.  The props, sets, costumes, etc from the movie were scattered throughout the building.  We saw Bilbo Baggin’s home, the ring, the hobbit costumes, Gandalf’s hat, Legolas’s bow, and many more items that to name them would take too much space.

As we moved along I wanted to stop and admire the structure and history of Casa Loma but my brother advised me that we would do that after we had seen the LOTR exhibits.  This way we would have the rest of the day to do so.

The final exhibit was at the far end of the building, dubbed the stables, where, well, the horses used to be kept.

We moved through a narrow tunnel and made it to the end.  From there two short stairs zigzagged up.  We went up and began admiring the various props.  My brother’s friend began taking photos, which we had been doing throughout.  The camera belonged to my brother’s co-worker and it was an expensive model at that time.

Halfway through we were approached by a short, heavyset, miserable looking security guard who advised us not to take photos.  My brother and his friend protested that everyone else was taking photos too.  Why wasn’t he stopping them? But he wouldn’t listen and told us not to.

Seeing the injustice, my brother and his friend decided to continue on.  My brother and I were the lookout while my brother’s friend took the photos.  We made all effort to keep an eye on the security guard but it wouldn’t be. He caught us again.  My brother and his friend protested like before.  But he warned us, sternly.  If he caught us taking photos again he would confiscate our camera.

I said to my brother that we had seen the exhibit, and had taken enough photos so we should listen to the security guard. But my brother and his friend wanted to do no such thing.  They felt the security guard was picking on them because they looked like students.  They felt ‘the troll’ was out to get them.  They forged ahead.

I wanted no part of it.  Remember, it was my birthday and I didn’t want any trouble.  My brother told me to wait downstairs, which I did.

Half an hour went by and no sign of either my brother or his friend.  I went back up the two sets of stairs and found them.  They had taken all the photos and still had the camera!  Now we could go and see Casa Loma, I thought.  But no.  My brother and his friend had other plans.

I begged them not to but they wouldn’t budge.

Again I went downstairs and waited for them.  I found a chair and sat facing the stairs.

Not five minutes had gone by when, from the second floor, my brother’s friend leaped over the railings and bounced to the first set of stairs.  He quickly disappeared down the narrow tunnel.

I jumped up, startled. My brother came rushing down the stairs and said, “Run!”

We bolted through the tunnel, pushing and shoving passed visitors.

We exited the entrance of Casa Loma, not before hearing another security guard’s radio crackle.

When we were a good distance away I finally asked what had happened.

After taking all the photos, my brother and his friend decided to take a photo of ‘the troll’.  They watched and followed him until he went and sat down on a chair in the corner.  That’s when my brother’s friend jumped in front him, aimed the camera and snapped his photo.

Naturally, the security guard went after them.

Outside, my brother and his friend celebrated.  They climbed the walls of Casa Loma and posed while I took their photo.  They had defeated the evil troll and were victorious.

I, on the other hand, did not celebrate. I never got the chance to see the castle like I had wanted to.

I still have the photos from that day when I turned 23; of the shields, swords, axes, etc from the movie.  I also have the photo taken by my brother’s friend, before he leaped from the second floor balcony.

The photo only shows the feet of the security guard.

Apparently, when my brother’s friend jumped in front of the security guard and pressed the button the camera did not work.  By the time the camera flashed the security guard was up already.

Yes, I may not have seen Casa Loma entirely but I have seen the boots of ‘the troll’ of Casa Loma.

1. Don’t block driveways. (Unless it’s your neighbour who refuses to return your lawn mover, hairdryer, rake, paper clips and other essentials in life)
2. Keep your distance from fire hydrants. (Permitted only if you are a dog)
3. Watch for signs on the street. (They are pictures on poles that tell you what you are supposed to be doing. They are also for people who are dyslexic)
4. Park safely at schools. (No road rage allowed in this area, some of these kids know karate)
5. Don’t leave your car idling. (Major cause of death for cyclists is second-hand exhaust smoke)
6. Don’t park in the disabled zone. (Seriously, that is a crime, punishable by hanging)
7. Stay away from corners. (Going around them at high speeds can make you dizzy)
8. Check the meters. (Park on those that still have money left in them and when they expire go to the next one. Not only will it save you money but it is fun)
9. Parking at bus stops is not allowed. (Remember, you are driving a tiny Japanese model while the bus driver is on a ten-ton Godzilla. Chances of being crushed is probable)
10. Read RACE. (It’s funny but showing a copy to the parking officer will only get you a larger fine)

This makes us question those who are bestowed with the responsibility to stop them: the police. Had they caught the killer the first time they wouldn’t become a serial…anything. The pressure is on them to solve the case quickly before there are any more innocent victims, which there almost always are.

The question that should be asked is why do writers of novels prefer serial killers? I can’t speak for every writer out there (that would be impossible) but I may have some answers.

In general, characters are difficult to create so if you have one character whom you can use to do those evil deeds over and over again then it makes your job that much easier. You can use his or her crimes to fill more pages (an entire novel, in fact).

Writing is an escape—an escape to become someone else. Now what would be more thrilling and utterly scary then to imagine yourself becoming a serial killer. To get into the mindset of someone who kills without remorse and does it so well, can be a challenge, but all writers (of fiction) know it is not real but something conjured up in the back of their minds. They know no real persons were harmed in the making of this book.

This knowledge allows them the freedom to transform into something vile, hideous and utterly despicable. They are able to tap into a dark part of their soul, one that should (and hopefully never does) become real.

There have been many serial killers: the Son of Sam, the Zodiac Killer, the Yorkshire Ripper, the Monster of Florence, and so on. Books have been written about them, and in some cases, with movies following after.

The most popular fictional serial killer would have to be Dr. Hannibal ‘the Cannibal’ Lecter by author Thomas Harris. Here is a meek doctor who not only kills but eats his victims as well. The character has been so popular that four books have been written (so far) with him in them, with subsequent movies made, of which The Silence of the Lambs went on to win several Academy Awards.

But not all serial killers are evil or just plain bad. Jeff Lindsay’s likeable serial killer Dexter Morgan is a blood splatter expert for the Miami Police Department, who happens to kill those who he deems have escaped justice. Yes, he is a psychopath but one with a moral code. The character has been in five books (and counting) and has been turned into a hugely popular television series.

Whoever said serial killers couldn’t be lucrative?

What’s so interesting is after narrowing it down there are still half a million sites that purport to teach you how to write that bestseller.

I find this both fascinating and depressing. Fascinating because there are so many individuals and companies out there who are in the business of teaching other writers how to write that book that’ll make the writer rich and famous. Depressing because there are so many writers who believe that if they read these ‘secrets’ they’ll achieve that fame and fortune. Now what these writers don’t understand is if these people did know how to write that bestseller they would be writing them instead of talking about how to write them.

There may be a book with the title “How to write a book that sells a million copies” and that writer of this book may have actually sold a million copies, but you wanna guess to who? Those would-be writers who want to write a book that sells a million copies.

Yes, there are those that have gotten lucky. They wrote that one book that caught fire and sold a gazillion copies, but this is rare. You have a better chance of winning the lottery.

My high school economics teacher always used to say: there is no such thing as a free lunch. Someone is paying for what you got for free, and they want something back in return. The advice you think you are getting for a small price (perhaps the cover price of the book) so that you can achieve that literary stardom, well, let me tell you, if they really knew they wouldn’t tell you and not for that price.

Now, I’m not a bestselling author, far from it, but if you look at the New York Times Bestseller list or any other list you won’t find those writers with books on how to write bestselling books. Instead, they are plugging away—day in and day out, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad—on their craft. Their only objective is to tell a good story.

Hopefully the really good ones achieve mass success but really bad ones have achieved it too. There is no one way of achieving it. I have read great books by unknown writers and really bad books by famous writers. You can call it luck or you can call it something else.

I am not going to give any advice—I wouldn’t know where to begin. I do know, though, that writing is hard—it is almost always a labour of love. But there is nothing more satisfying than finally finishing something that you have spent countless days, months, even years working on. If there is one thing I can leave with it would be this: writers write, plain and simple.

This reminds me of a scene from the movie, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Tuco Ramirez (The Ugly) is taking a bubble bath when a One Armed Man enters the room and aims his gun at him.

The One Armed Man says, “I’ve been looking for you for 8 months. Whenever I should have had a gun in my right hand, I thought of you. Now I find you in exactly the position that suits me. I had lots of time to learn to shoot with my left.”

Tuco kills him with the gun he has hidden in the foam.

Tuco then gets up and says, “When you have to shoot, shoot, don’t talk.”

I say, “If you’re going to write, write, don’t read about it.”

These two literary constructions would be fascinating if ever they were on the same page. Mind you, as far as what they are in on the actual page, by Robert Ludlum (Bourne) and Ian Fleming (Bond) they are entirely different on the big screen. I will not focus on the literary creations but on the ones on the silver screen. I think this would be more fun.

Descriptions:

Jason Bourne: Rugged, gritty, and unrefined. Habitually monogamous. Casually dressed. Relies heavily on intelligence and quick-thinking.

James Bond: Suave, debonair, and sophisticated. A habitual womanizer. Impeccably dressed. Relies heavily on his charm and fancy gadgets.

Who am I?

Bourne suffers from amnesia and he spends the trilogy (Bourne Identity, Supremacy and Ultimatum) piecing together his history. Along the way we learn his real name (I won’t mention it for those who haven’t watched the trilogy yet—what are you waiting for people?).

Bond…James Bond

Bond doesn’t have the same problem as Bourne. Or maybe he does and in order to remember his name he repeats it. What’s interesting is he’s a spy with no need of introductions but he still does it, twice!

Stylistic differences

Bourne blows up things only when it is absolutely necessary, whereas Bond will detonate a building because, well, he’s James Bond, and he can.

Bourne will avoid killing someone, instead will either knock them out, shoot them in the leg, or just break a bone or two (but nothing fatal), whereas, Bond will shoot to kill, his favourite: the hard-working employees of the super-villains (those poor souls who show up with machine guns but never once manage to hit Bond).

Bourne will do anything to avoid bringing any attention to him. He wants to be left alone. In Bourne Supremacy he hid in Goa, India and preferred a good run on the beach. Bond on the other hand wants to be the center of attention, everything he does says ‘I’m James Bond and you’re not.’

The big question is who would win if they were to go head to head? If I were a betting man I would say Jason Bourne, hands down. Here would be the scenario.

Bond enters the room, dressed in a tuxedo, and announces he is James Bond, twice.

He gets himself a drink, Martini, shaken not stirred.

He spots a beautiful woman and charms her.

As he’s heading back to his room, unknown to him, a man has broken into the building through a window on another floor. He procures a ball point pen, which he’ll easily be able to pass through security (if the building had one).

As an inebriated Bond gets to his bedroom door a man swiftly moves past him, and with the ball point pen, stabs him in the thigh and neck, and disappears, perhaps, scaling down the outside wall of the building.

With his major arteries severed Bond is rendered incapacitated.

Now this may seem like a diss to James Bond, but believe me, it is not, James Bond is the epitome of longevity—a character who has endured decades of change. Now why is that? The simple answer is: James Bond is a male fantasy. The common man wants to be James Bond. He dresses well, he beds beautiful women, he kills with no repercussions, and he has all the fancy toys anyone could ever want.

Who do I prefer? I will have to say Jason Bourne. Bourne feels real, there is something relatable about him. He could be a spy in today’s fast-paced, complex and paranoid world. He would survive any situation thrown at him.

So James Bond can have all the clothes, women, and toys, I would not be envy of him, Jason Bourne doesn’t need them and he manages quite fine. Well, maybe there is one thing I wouldn’t mind having. James Bond’s,

Aston Martin

Birthday
On this date I hit a milestone – I turned 30. I thought turning 30 would somehow change me, affect me in some way, but it didn’t. I can’t say I feel more mature or even wiser. But for some strange reason I feel more pro ud, proud enough to tell people I’m 30. In fact, being thirty is not that bad, it’s not the end of the world, I mean, Mark Twain published his first short story, Jim Smiley and His Jumping Frog when he was 30. And Danish novelist Hans Christian Andersen published his book of fairy tales when he was 30. I have published a novel bu t hopefully like them I can keep writing and perhaps publish many more.

Obama

I’m not American but just seeing Barack Obama elected President of the United States was overwhelming. I’m not going to spend too much time on how significant this was, millions have done a far better job of this, but I will say this is not only great for the United States but also for the entire world. Obama is the son of a white Kansas mother and a black Kenyan father. He was raised in Asia and has a half-Indonesian sister. His middle name is Middle Eastern. He is all of us. Only time will tell whether he lives up to all our hopes and dreams, but this is a step in the right direction.

Crichton

I was shocked to hear the death of author Michael Crichton. In my teens I was introduced to his books by my brother. I remember reading them and being completely immersed in his world, whether they be about alien viruses or the 19^th century gold heist in London. There was something about them; they were both ambitious and entertaining. He made science digestible! What made him stand out amongst all the great writers was that he wasn’t afraid to write a different kind book: Jurassic Park (dinosaurs), Timeline (time travel), Prey (nanotechnology), Rising Sun (Japanese/American relations) and so on. His books were controversial, yes, but at least they made us think. I can’t tell you how excited I would get just hearing that he was coming out with a new book. Just the thought of what other worlds or journeys he would take us on gave me goose bumps.

Michael Crichton inspired me to become a writer and for that I am forever indebted to him.

I have always been a fan of movies and have seen my share of them in theatres. Obviously, popcorns and drinks are a must when it comes to the movie-theatre-experience. But one event changed all that.

It was during the movie Titanic. I went, somewhat eagerly, to see what all the hoopla was about. This was early 1998 and Titanic had just won a whole slew of Oscars.

I buy myself a small size drink – small because I didn’t want to get up and run to the bathroom during the movie and a medium size box of popcorn.

I am there early, about ten to fifteen minutes before the start, just so that I can get a good seat. I watch as the theatre slowly begins to fill. People move up the aisles, glancing first at the screen then at the seat they are going to sit in. Some may not think this, but choosing a seat is the most important and difficult part of the movie going experience. Choose the wrong one and you’ll be regretting it for the entire movie. So arriving early is crucial.

During this time the sweet aroma of the popcorns bombard my senses. I take one, then two, and then three and before you know it I am enjoying them even before the movie begins. The commercials come up, then the expected trailers and then finally the main attraction.

By this time my box is half empty and my drink nearly finished. I gulp the last drops as the opening credits roll.

The movie is slow but I don’t mind, I know that it picks up as the ship is supposed to break in half and then sink (thank you, Internet Movie Data Base).

Then something unexpected happens. A piece of popcorn gets stuck in the back of my throat. I reach for the drink and realize its empty. I try to conjure up some spit. Nothing. My mouth is dry. The popcorn had sucked up all the saliva. Now this tiny piece has become a big problem. It’s irritating and agitating my throat.

I try to cough, or make a gurgling noise, but realize this is not the right time. Up on the screen Rose (Kate Winslet) has decided to jump off the ship and Jack (Leonardo Di Caprio) is persuading her not too. Let me say, this is probably the quietest scene in the entire movie. There is no background music, no special effects, no loud anything. It consists only of dialogue between the two actors and the slow (far away) sound of frigid water splashing.

I’m sure this scene is not that long but when you have an intruder that you cannot get out with your tongue stuck in the back of your mouth, this seems like an eternity.

I plead to the screen. Jack, let her jump. Let her make some noise. It’s only water. Once I get this popcorn out I’ll save her.

But that would not be. He would not let her jump.

So I decide to get up, apologize for stepping on people’s toes, and make my way to the bathroom.

Just as I’m about to do this I feel this wetness underneath my tongue. Oh, sweet dribble. I quickly suck in and wash the culprit down. I can’t explain the relief I felt. It was as if I was the king of the world.

Then I proceed to enjoy the rest of the movie, which I found a bit too long and a bit too long. And of course, I do so without eating any more popcorn.

Moral of the story: No popcorns unless Jack is willing to shove Rose overboard.

Seven Years in Tibet by John Williams

Track(s): Seven Years in Tibet, Regaining a Son

This soundtrack started my love for the movie score. The cellos by Yo-Yo Ma are both beautiful and sad. Listening to the track, Seven Years, puts you in a dream like state of enchantment. Both Western and Eastern sounds are blended together gorgeously.

Last Samurai by Hans Zimmer

Track(s): A Way of Life, Spectres in the Fog, Idyll’s Hands

A delicate and emotional soundtrack, that infuses Eastern sounds with Western beats. The middle of track Idyll’s Hands is so forceful that it leaves you feeling empowered.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon by Tan Dun and Yo-Yo Ma

Track(s): The Eternal Vow

The track Eternal Vow is a deeply moving and haunting track of unrequited love. The cellos by Ma are mesmerizing, leaving the listener heart broken and yearning for more.

Lawrence of Arabia by Maurice Jarre

Tracks(s): Overtures, Main Titles,
On to Akaba/the Beach at Night

My praise of this movie is evident in my first blog, so why wouldn’t I love the soundtrack as well. Overture immediately starts of with massive drums and moves to cymbals and trumpets, then followed by a hypnotic Arabian melody.

Jurassic Park by John Williams

Tracks(s): Theme from Jurassic Park,
Welcome to Jurassic Park, and End Credits

It is a light and entertaining soundtrack of a highly successful movie that was based on a book. What more inspiration do you need for a writer?

(I’m not a music writer so my comments are not indented to be a professional review but merely my take on these wonderful soundtracks)

The following soundtracks, including some of my favorite tracks, were instrumental in writing my first novel, R.A.C.E.

Gladiator by Hans Zimmer

Track(s): The Battle, Elysium, The Might of Rome, Honor Him, and Now We are Free

What can I say about this soundtrack? It has everything. From the pounding and inspiring track, The Battle, to the peaceful and soulful track, Elysium, containing the melodic voice of Lisa Gerrard. This soundtrack is grand and personal.

Lord of the Rings – The Two Towers by Howard Shore

Tracks(s): Evenstar, Forth Eorlingas, Riders of Rohan, Samwise the Brave

Enya sings in Evenstar and being a fan of hers I was thoroughly enchanted by the track. The track, Riders of Rohan, is both majestic and has a feel of urgency. The rest of the soundtrack reminds you of a world that is not ours, but is magical and far, far away.

Road to Perdition by Thomas Newman

Track(s): Road to Chicago, Road to Perdition

The soundtrack is propelled by the sound of the piano and violin. It evokes the atmosphere and feel of the 1930s. The track, Road to Perdition, is heart wrenching and powerful.

Braveheart by James Horner

Tracks(s): The Love of a Princess, Freedom/the Execution/Bannockburn, End Credits

The scores are mixed with bagpipes, flutes, and drums. The soundtrack goes from powerful to reflective. It has an incredible choir chorus that is both sad and empowering.

Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark by John Williams

Track(s): The Raiders March

The Raiders March track is distinct and universally recognized by an Indy fan. For those who have never heard of it, it has drums, cymbals, trumpets; the entire London Pop Orchestra, the same orchestra that did Star Wars. When The Raiders March starts up a chill of excitement goes up my spine. What more can I say?