John McLane et al.

I've been thinking about characters a lot these days.

Well, I guess I think about characters a lot most of the time—occupational hazard. But lately, I've been trying to break down what makes a character compelling enough that we keep coming back for more.

The character that got me really thinking was, of course, John McLane. Because you know he's got something special if he's been resurrected all these years later for yet another movie. (Which I'm so excited about, since we're on that topic. Guess where I'll be at midnight tonight? That's right—with all the other crazy Die Hard fans cheering Bruce Willis along.)

What's so great about John McLane, or any other character that keeps us coming back for more? I think a lot goes into the mix, but I think what really intrigues us is the character's flaws. Like John McLane may be a hero and (at one time) a great cop, but he's also a failure as a family man and a drunk. Somehow, despite it all, he comes out on top. I think it's the "despite it all" that appeals to people. It's encouraging to see someone screw up yet still win.

But motivation is a big factor too, because why a character does things touches something inside us. Stan Lee does this REALLY well for his bad guys. Like the Sandman in Spiderman III, who stole not because he was a deviant but because he needed money to save his sick little girl.

I wish there was a formula to creating a great character. If you've got one, tell me. I'll be your best friend forever.

PS: Stan Lee is a god. Just wanted to state that in case you've somehow missed my opinion about him.

Flaming Motorcycles

"We should have a movie cheese-fest tonight," Nate said as he dried a pot after dinner.

My sister Parisa did a little bootie dance at the sink while she rinsed a plate. She's a dancer—she'll use any excuse to shake her groove thing. "I love cheesy movies."

"Let's watch The Highlander. It's cheesy and it's got Sean Connery wielding a sword." I shivered. "There's just something about a man who can swing a sword."

Nate tucked the pot back in the cupboard. "Ghost Rider just came out on DVD."

"Yeah, but I heard it sucked," my sister replied.

"How about The Highlander?" I said it louder because apparently they didn't hear me the first time I'd suggested it. "The Highlander is cheesy and definitely very satisfying. And Christopher Lambert is brilliant in a kilt."

"Ghost Rider will have good effects at least." Nate handed her a pan. "You forgot this one."

"Thanks." She attacked it with a soapy sponge. "I guess Ghost Rider has Nicholas Cage in it. He's usually good in action movies."

Not able to take being ignored any longer, I raised my head and yowled. "The Highlander!"

They both turned around and blinked like they just realized I was still there. "What?" Nate asked.

"We should watch The Highlander," I suggested meekly. "I kind of like that movie."

Parisa shook her head. "You've seen it like twenty times."

"It's not even that great a movie," my beloved added.

Gasp. "Blasphemer."

"And we haven't seen Ghost Rider yet." Nate pressed a kiss on my pouty lips. "Besides, do you want to miss Nicholas Cage riding a flaming motorcycle?"

I perked up. "Flames?"

"You said the magic word," my sister said, grinning.

He smiled and kissed me again. "You've got to know how to spin it."

Because I know you care...

My friend Margo Candela asked me to do an interview for her blog and it's up today. Check it out (disclaimer: I'm not very interesting).

Heck—check out Margo's books while you're at it. She writes funny, true-to-life stories about women. I had the pleasure of reading an ARC of her next book, Life Over Easy, and found it absolutely delicious. It's about a catering chef who tries to get her life together by serial dating.

Next tidbit of info, Booklist is doing an Advanced Review of PROJECT DATE. In short, here's what they said:

Perry (Project Daddy, 2006) has fashioned a hilarious romp with clever characters... A sure-to-please, entertaining romantic comedy.

In the Red

I couldn't think of what to blog about, so I decided to take a stroll to the market to pick up a few dinner items. I figured I'd get inspired somewhere along the way.

I meandered a bit before I headed for the meat counter. Steak was on the menu, and the butcher boys were fairly unoccupied at that moment—it was a good place to start.

Cute butcher #1 looked up from the meat he was carving and smiled. "Give me a second and I'm all yours."

I smiled back. "Thanks."

"Well, I'm be ninety-five percent yours," he said as he slipped the tray of meat into the case. "Five percent always belongs to my mom."

Cute butcher #2 slapped the ground beef another customer ordered onto the scale. "No, your mom is mine for that five percent."

I grinned at CB #1. "That was funny."

"He's learning to loosen up." He glanced at my T-shirt. "Red's a good color for you."

I glanced down at my Emily the Strange "The Brainiac: A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste" shirt. And it hit me. I hadn't done a color in ages—today I should blog about red. So...

If I had a pair of red boots I'd love them too. I know I would.

Fred

"There's a dead naked man lying in a grassy field," my friend Jon said two-thirds of the way into our road trip.

I looked out the car window, the most alert I'd been since we started out two hours before. "Where?"

"No, I'm telling you a riddle."

I groaned and slouched back in the passenger seat. I hated riddles.

"There are no roads and no way for vehicles to get to this field, and the dead man is clutching a piece of straw." He glanced at me, like he wanted to make sure I was paying attention. "You figure out how he got there and what happened to him by asking me yes or no questions."

Sigh. "Can't we go back to brainstorming pick-up techniques for you? I think we had something with you pulling up next a woman in her car and tossing a wadded business card through her open window."

"Come on. Ask me questions."

Sigh again. But he turned his puppy dog eyes on me and I could tell he really wanted me to play along, so I said, "If there are no roads, did he fall into the field and die from impact?"

"Yeah. Good first question."

"Did he fall out of a hot air balloon?"

Jon blinked with surprise. "That's right. How did you guess?"

"The straw made me think of a hot air balloon's basket." I paused a moment and asked the next obvious question. "Was his name Fred?"

He frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

I shrugged. "He sounds like a Fred. I have a hard time imagining a Rafael falling out of a hot air balloon."

"Uh, maybe you should figure out why he fell out of the balloon naked."

"Was he married?"

"That's like asking if his name was Fred." He rolled his eyes. "Ask something pertinent."

"That's pertinent," I replied indignantly. "His wife had excellent motivation to push him out of the balloon. They were having sex, hence the reason he was naked. Only once again Fred didn't bring her, um, ultimate pleasure, so she got pissed and shoved him out of the basket." Duh.

Silence. "That's not the answer."

"It should be." But I was curious, so I said, "What is the real answer?"

"The balloon was sinking, so everyone in it threw their clothes overboard to lighten it. But it didn't help, so they drew straws to see who'd jump."

I shook my head. "Dude, that's totally lame."

"Your version is more colorful," Jon conceded.

"I know." I crossed my arms behind my head and closed my eyes. "I'm a professional."