Why “Lemon of Troy” Is The Best Episode of The Simpsons

Lemon of Troy, episode 24 of season 6 of The Simpsons, written by Brent Forrester is a masterpiece in storytelling, joke delivery, and cultural criticism. While it’s debatable which episode of The Simpsons is the best — you can leave your pick in the comments — I would say that Lemon of Troy would have to be in consideration just for its writing alone. 

As a writer, I look to this episode often when I consider how I introduce conflict and establish the structure of a story. This episode is loaded with literary devices and while it still follows the traditional 3-act structure, it is so concise, and the jokes are so economical and funny, that it should be shown to anyone who aspires to write a story of any length. 

While I’m passionate about this episode, I often have a hard time communicating everything I love about it. There is just so much! I get overwhelmed and I trip myself up. This episode links so perfectly that one thing I like immediately connects to another. So I decided to make it easier for all of us and break it down to 10 aspects that make this episode great — and it’s also something writers can acknowledge and perhaps even gain some inspiration from. 

Okay, so 10 things that make Lemon of Troy the best episode of The Simpsons: 

1) The MacGuffin: Lemon Tree 

Let’s start by talking about the MacGuffin. Is it a Scottish person? No, well — it could be — but not really. A MacGuffin — a term coined by Alfred Hitchcock —  is often an object, device, or event that acts as the motivation for the characters but is typically simplistic in and of itself. For example, The Maltese Falcon, the suitcase from Pulp Fiction, or the jade sword from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, are all MacGuffins. 

The lemon tree itself has no significance, it’s not magical or anything, but it is the importance that the people of Springfield puts on it that gives the story stakes when it is stolen by Shelbyville. 

2) The Catalyst: Marge’s Speech

While the lemon tree is important, what actually slingshots the story forward is Marge’s passionate speech about being proud of Springfield.

“This town is a part of who you are. This is a Springfield Isotopes cap.  When you wear it, you’re wearing Springfield.  When you eat a fish from our river, you’re eating Springfield.  When you make lemonade from  our tree, you’re drinking Springfield.

A catalyst, or an inciting incident, can sometimes be a major event, but sometimes it’s as simple as a character being influenced to evoke change. Without this speech, Bart wouldn’t have the desire to protect the lemon tree. He wouldn’t have pride that sustains itself for the full duration of the episode. Thinking about it as a chemical reaction, Marge had mixed her ideology with Bart’s spontaneity, which in less that a few minutes of screentime, we already get. All we need now… is something bad to happen to the lemon tree. 

3) The Perfect 3-Act Structure

Writing a three-act structure story sounds easy to anyone who’d never tried it, but it can actually get messy. Certain events need to happen at certain times and — in this case, if we are talking about a televised sitcom — we need to do it all in approximately 22 pages. But Lemon of Troy does it so effectively that if you ever get assigned with a task to write a three-act television show, you can literally use this episode as a template. 

Act One: The Lemon Tree

In the first act, we get to know all the characters involved and most importantly, we understand the significance of the lemon tree. It’s not only a metaphor about what life gives you, we also know what it represents to the protagonist, Bart. With that, we are also introduced to the antagonists, the kids of Shelbyville. We know who the heroes are and who the enemies are. The stage is set. 

Act Two: Entering Shelbyville

Here is where it gets exciting, as the characters cross the threshold, or as Bart intrepidly announces: 

“And now, the time has come to cross this line into mystery and danger — to step out of childhood and become men.”

It’s the progression of danger that makes the second act so effective. The deeper and deeper Bart and his crew get into Shelbyville, and closer they get to the Shelbyville kids, the more risky the venture becomes, until eventually it turns into a mission not to find the lemon tree, but just to merely survive. 

Act Three: Escaping Shelbyville

To conclude the third act and wrap up the story in a satisfying way is not an easy trick to land. But what Lemon of Troy does — that makes it so great — is capture moments that tied back to earlier in the episode: from the Roman Numerals joke to the Milhouses finding common ground to the RV gags that don’t disappoint to the cheeky line by Homer “Hee hee hee, no one in history has ever done anything this clever,” a line that makes the title “Lemon of Troy” just another joke in an already multi-layered episode. 

Not only does the third act conclude with Bart and Homer “saving” the lemon tree, it ends with the lore of what the episode was — another nod to the legacy of how stories and misinformation passes through time, and instead of wrapping it up completely, it opens the discussion to what will happen between Springfield and Shelbyville in the future as the next generation matures. 

4) Genre: Capers/Heist

Familiarity and originality. When a story can give us a good balance of both then it becomes a novel experience for the audience while still being approachable, and Lemon of Troy does this by grounding the story in a specific genre which is the capers/heist genre. 

I often think of this genre as The Reservoir Dogs or Ocean’s 11 genre, because there is this ragtag crew where each member with their own unique set of skills — “I’m the leader, Milhouse is my loyal sidekick, Nelson’s the tough guy, Martin’s the smart guy, and Todd’s the quiet religious guy who ends up going crazy.” — will trespass, break in, infiltrate, and eventually steal (what is often money) but in this case the lemon tree.

5) Types of Jokes:

When you watch other sitcoms on television — I won’t name any names —, or even later seasons of this one, you’ll often find that the writers would get lazy and reuse the same joke styles and structures in the same episode. For smart audiences, this can get repetitive and predictable, and result in fewer lols. 

Lemon of Troy, in just over 20 minutes, delivers such a wide range of jokes that even after all these years, having seen this episode so many times, the humour still remains fresh. The variety in what the set ups are, which characters are delivering the jokes, diversity of what the joke is referencing, and when the punchline actually hits in the story keeps the pacing and the energy of the episode going the way a song with a really good beat does, where you can play it back and it just doesn’t get old. 

It wasn’t easy categorizing the jokes or even qualifying what a joke was, and in respect for your time and for fear of potentially ruining the jokes, I’ll just highlight a few that I think are notable. 

  • Instant Payoffs:  
    • A part of us all… repeating in Bart’s head immediately after the speech. 
  • Call Backs: 
    • Roman numerals 
    • Flying motor cycle
  • Recurring Jokes: 
    • Milhouse thinking he’s being copied
    • Shelbyville citizens finding their cousins attractive
  • Sight Gags and Audible Gags: 
    • The lemon shaped rock
    • Homer cooking multiple turkeys and showering in the RV
    • Milhouse’s camo outfit
    • The fire hydrant is yellow. 
  • Pop Culture and Historical References: 
    • Rocky Movies
    • Trojan Horse
  • Irony: 
    • Lisa being sarcastic when explaining to Marge where Bart is, and she believing every word. 
  • Madcap: 
    • All this talking had made me hungry. 
    • Shake harder boy

If you are writing comedy, take this lesson from Lemon of Troy, don’t just keep throwing right hooks, you gotta jab, you gotta throw some kicks, you gotta have some headlocks, that way, when you get to the punchline it won’t be predictable because anything prior could’ve been a setup. 

6) Character Arcs: Bart/Milhouse 

It’s hard to believe that there are any character arcs in this jam-packed episode, but two characters actually go on a profound journey. 

Bart goes through a somewhat conventional hero’s journey. He gets a call to adventure from his mother, he crosses the threshold into Shelbyville, he encounters challenges (friends, allies, and temptations) along the way, faces tremendous turmoil and defeat, but refuses to quit — and in the end, returns to Springfeild not only as a proud member of the town, as his mother had wanted, but as a hero. 

Milhouse, insecure and lacking a sense of self, is the deuteragonist, a confidant to the protagonist, but with a different character arc. Milhouse’s character arc is more personal. He is self conscious when he sees the Shelbyville kid copying the way he’s holding his backpack or when he says “Radical”, it becomes this possessive thing he struggles with for the whole episode.

We get some back story for why Milhouse may react this way and it’s perhaps his parents — his mother actually being from Shelbyville — that cause some self-hate that lingers inside of him and it comes to the surface when he sees the Shelbyville kid doing what he’s doing. What annoys us the most are often the same things we do that are done by others. For example, if we commonly forget people’s names, what might annoy us most is when other people forget our names. Yet, in the end, Milhouse and the Shelbyville Milhouse find common ground; they can open up and be vulnerable for the first time. 

Bart and Milhouse went on the same journey but went through two different changes to their characters. 

7) Character Relationships: Martin and Nelson

Perhaps my favorite aspect of this entire episode is none other than the relationship between Martin and Nelson. These two when partnered together act as a contrasting comedic pair, Martin playing the stooge and Nelson the straight man. From “Team Discover Channel” “Your wussiness better come in handy” to “Spring forth burly protector and save me”, their chemistry is so delightful that it simply adds another flavour to the already diverse combinations of jokes. 

8) Antagonists: Shelbyville 

Every good story could use a good antagonist that is both despicable and empathetic. The Shelbyville kids are clearly bullies and we have no problems cheering against them, but it’s their lack of better judgement, wasting their energy stealing a lemon tree with little but bragging rights to gain, we understand that they live in a community that is suffering as much as Milhouse is emotionally. 

They live in a taboo place, after all, where it’s cool to marry your cousins. As messed up as that is, you kind of feel bad for them, because these kids didn’t choose to live there. They were just born there, it was the luck of the draw, the lemons they were given. The Simpsons could have as easily been living in Shelbyville. And because of that — and their taboo culture — no wonder they feel so insecure. But even with all that empathy, at the end, we can’t help laughing as they shook their fist harder to no avail. 

9) B-Story: The Parents: 

In some episodes of The Simpsons, the A story and B story are completely different, but in Lemon of Troy, they aren’t. The A story is the kids entering Shelbyville to find the lemon tree and the B story is the parents going after them. Only when the parents find the kids do their storylines converge, which is what a good A and B story should do, it should link together in the end in a cohesive way. 

While the B story isn’t a particularly significant aspect of the episode, it is that restraint that is worth commending because the danger of writing a B story so similar to the A story is that the B story can easily become the A story. 

Whenever we focus on the parents in this episode, it never overshadows what Bart and the kids are doing, it only increases the stakes and supplies some backstory. It’s not repetitive even when Homer, like his son, takes initiative by volunteering Flander’s RV. When you need to jump between characters from A story to B story, you don’t need to think of them as different tracks, but instead as an expansion of the A story, supplying the details necessary for the characters to eventually connect in the third act. 

10) Theme: Tribalism and how history can be misinterpreted

Lastly, Lemon of Troy is a brilliant observation of societal behaviour between neighbouring communities and how tribalism can both unite and divide us. This episode addresses how natural resources, historical events, and cultural rituals can create animosity that drives two groups to engage aggressively to one another. 

Tribal wars have existed since the beginning of human history and Springfield and Shelbyville are no exemptions. But what this episode highlights is how pride can turn into radicalism and how the two sides — regardless of the facts — can tell their own separate stories, casting themselves in a better light, both manipulating their youth and continuing a tradition of disdain. This type of behaviour is of course still happening today, whether it’s neighbouring countries or roommates in a two-bedroom apartment. 

There are many things that make Lemon of Troy great, but it’s the theme that seals it for me, because it reminds us of the importance to respect those around us and to acknowledge what’s causing the negative emotions to rise to the surface. Are we like Marge simply encouraging town pride to prevent our children from vandalizing? Or are we telling our children stories of glory that didn’t happen to harbour a sense of superiority? 

If you think Lemon of Troy is the best episode of The Simpsons let me know, it’ll be nice to know that other people out there feel the same way, but if you have another favorite, please let me know as well!

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Kurt Vonnegut’s 10 Best Writing Quotes

Kurt Vonnegut, author of SlaughterHouse Five, Breakfast of Champions, and Cat’s Cradle, is a master of using humor to make sense of this crazy world. He takes complex subject matters — that are often grim and hopeless — and interprets them in his writing with a style that is concise, conversational, and witty. 

As writers navigating our own absurd world, there is a lot we can learn from Vonnegut. Here are 10 writing quotes from the author that had made us laugh at the bleakness of reality. 

1. “Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.”

2. “When I used to teach creative writing, I would tell the students to make their characters want something right away—even if it’s only a glass of water. Characters paralyzed by the meaningless of modern life still have to drink water from time to time.”

3. “Jokes are efficient things and they must be as carefully constructed as mouse traps. And so for me to write a page of a novel is a very slow business, because the whole thing has to be rigged in order to snap at the end. My books are essentially mosaics, thousands and thousands of tiny little chips all glued together, and each chip is this thing I learned to do—this thing I learned to make as a child—which is a little joke.”

4. “Novel writing doesn’t breed serenity. It is lying, you know, and the novelist has to spend a lot of time during the course of his writing worrying about whether he is going to get away with his lies. If he fails to, his novel isn’t going to work.”

5. “I get up at 7:30 and work four hours a day. Nine to twelve in the morning, five to six in the evening. Businessmen would achieve better results if they studied human metabolism. No one works well eight hours a day. No one ought to work more than four hours.”

6. “Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them—in order that the reader may see what they’re made of.”

7. “Novelists have, on the average, about the same IQs as the cosmetic consultants at Bloomingdale’s department store. Our power is patience. We have discovered that writing allows even a stupid person to seem halfway intelligent, if only that person will write the same thought over and over again, improving it just a little bit each time. It is a lot like inflating a blimp with a bicycle pump. Anybody can do it. All it takes is time.”

8. “I’m simply interested in what is going to happen next. I don’t think I can control my life or my writing. Every other writer I know feels he is steering himself, and I don’t have that feeling. I don’t have that sort of control. I’m simply becoming. I’m startled that I became a writer.”

9. “I believe that reading and writing are the most nourishing forms of meditation anyone has so far found. By reading the writings of the most interesting minds in history, we meditate with our own minds and theirs as well. This to me is a miracle.”

10. “The proper ending for any story about people it seems to me, since life is now a polymer in which the Earth is wrapped so tightly, should be the same abbreviation, which I now write large because I feel like it, which is this one: ETC.”

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Five Must-Read Books for Writers

If you want to be a writer, you must read. But there are so many books! What should I read? Well, anything… but today, I want to share five books that I feel every writer — or creative person — should prioritize. These are non-fiction books that are more general to the craft of writing and the creative process as opposed to being books that are great stories, although some of these books do contain stories that certainly any writer can relate to such as writer’s block and the frustration of editing the first draft. 

I recommended these books because writing is such a lonely, laborious task, and these five books do a good job sympathizing with that, but what they also do, is not let us get consumed by our excuses to not write, these books are from people who have accomplished the task many times before, and in it there are some wisdom for writers who are currently struggling. 

So, if that’s interesting, let’s continue. 

Perennial Seller by Ryan Holiday 

Ryan Holiday is one of my favorite non-fiction writers, and Perennial Seller is one of my favorite books from him, because it concisely breaks down the missteps us writers often make when we set off on our journey to create works that last. 

When we take a walk through a library, we see hundreds and thousands of books, books that we’ve never heard about, books that we’ll never pick up to read. How can we avoid having our hard work end up like one of those books? How do we create work that stands the test of time? 

In Perennial Seller, Ryan Holiday warns us of the lure of a meteoric rise and then an equally quick fade into obscurity, and explains how the work of a writer is more than just creating quality work, it’s communicating that work to a group of people who will then share it and nurture it and develop a deeper relationship with it. 

Therefore, he explains, that writing goes beyond writing, it requires research before you start and marketing when you finish. It’s not one marathon, it’s a marathon after a marathon after a marathon. 

Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott 

Perhaps my favorite book on the process of writing, the iconic memoir by Anne Lamott, is the one I pick up whenever I need a boost of inspiration when I feel like my story isn’t going anywhere, when I feel disappointed, tired, and hopeless. 

Anne Lamott reminds us of the importance of taming the critic in our head, the traps of wanting to simply be published, and the power of putting one word after the next — bird by bird. 

Not only that, Bird by Bird is such a funny, witty, comforting read that whenever I dip into it, I feel like I’m getting reacquainted with an old friend, and the old friend will ask me, “how’s the work going?” and I’ll answer, “it’s going…” If nothing more, Bird by Bird is a reminder to writers why they got into this lonely pursuit in the first place, and I love it for that. 

The Dip by Seth Godin 

The Dip is the sobering book that us creatives need whenever we reach the part in our process where we’re struggling, where we’re complacent, where we’re no longer excited about what we are working on. 

Seth Godin encourages us to stop dreaming, and really confront the obstacle in our way — the dip — and offers us the option: “if you really want to quit, you should quit now, because if you’re going to quit a month from now, that’s a month wasted. So what’s it going to be?” 

Quitting or continuing is not only about the overall pursuit of being a writer, it’s also about individual projects. When should we stop working on this and start working on something else? When do we eat our sunk cost and count it as a learning experience instead of having it be a self-inflicted life sentence? 

The thesis of The Dip is that winners quit all the time, so don’t feel bad for quitting. The thing is, if you are going to quit, quit earlier than later. This book is a splash of reality that us creative writers need and it helps us reframe what we’re actually doing and decide whether it is worth pushing forward until the end

On Writing by Stephen King 

There is nothing like hearing someone at the top of their game share stories and advice about something they are truly passionate in, and Stephen King couldn’t be more passionate about writing. I mean, think of all the books he’d written. 

While On Writing does offer some tactical tips, such as King’s English “toolbox” and how to edit your first draft, what I love most about On Writing is how King goes into his own works and the lifestyle that most of us writers dream about, and understanding that real life still interferes even when we achieve that goal. Achieving our dreams still means we have to live in reality, unfortunately. 

There is probably no writer more successful than Stephen King, but this memoir feels so down to earth. There is this belief that whatever King writes publishers will publish, but this book proves that he actually knows what he’s doing and that he’s more than a bankable brand. 

King explains that writing could be the craft that brings us fortune and fame, but writing might also be the thing we live for — especially after his car accident. Writing can be the thing that pushes us to get better, to understand more, and even without all the success, it is still this beautiful thing we are lucky enough to do. And that’s pretty inspiring.  

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami 

One area I think people make a mistake in whenever they pursue something big, like writing a novel, is that they often feel like they need to shut themselves off from the world, stop doing everything else, and write. But What Haurki Murakami talks about when he talks about running, is that being a writer is so much more than just writing, and that in order for us to actually acquire the stories worth sharing, we must live a life outside of our words on paper. 

Writing is one of those activities where we bring who we are into, therefore, other things we do in our lives can be materials we add to our stories, like new ingredients for a meal. Writing becomes the intersection for all the different activities in our lives, it doesn’t have to be running, it could be cooking, it could be photography, it could be kite flying. Writing allows us to bring all of that into one place. 

Find the passions in your life for those moments when you are not writing, you’ll discover that it’s in fact a healthier balance. You’ll also find that one activity can actually support the other, allowing you to improve gradually in both. 

Those are five books that I really enjoyed and have inspired me when I was feeling stuck. If there are other books that you think writers — or creative types should read — please feel free to share it in the comments, I’m always looking for recommendations.

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Haruki Murakami’s 10 Best Writing Quotes

Haruki Murakami is a best-selling Japanese writer known for his novels: Norwegian Wood, The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, and Kafka on the Shore. Murakami’s stories are described as dream-like fantasies, where ordinary people face extraordinary scenarios, where magic and nostalgia blur the lines of reality. 

In times of turmoil and political chaos, when confusion clouds our judgements, books that delve in surrealism offer peculiar comfort. For writers creating works during these strange times — uncertain how to make sense of the world around us — we can turn to Murakami for a bit of guidance.  

Here are the top 10 quotes on writing from the author who shows us that enchantments are hiding in the everyday shadows. 

1) It’s a dark, cool, quiet place. A basement in your soul. And that place can sometimes be dangerous to the human mind. I can open the door and enter that darkness, but I have to be very careful. I can find my story there. Then I bring that thing to the surface, into the real world. 

2) There’s no such thing as perfect writing, just like there’s no such thing as perfect despair.

3) I often recall these words when I am writing, and I think to myself, ‘It’s true. There aren’t any new words. Our job is to give new meanings and special overtones to absolutely ordinary words.’ I find the thought reassuring. It means that vast, unknown stretches still lie before us, fertile territories just waiting for us to cultivate them.

4) When I start to write, I don’t have any plan at all. I just wait for the story to come. I don’t choose what kind of story it is or what’s going to happen.

5) Dreaming is the day job of novelists, but sharing our dreams is a still more important task for us. We cannot be novelists without this sense of sharing something.

6) Good style happens in one of two ways: the writer either has an inborn talent or is willing to work herself to death to get it.

7) I think memory is the most important asset of human beings. It’s a kind of fuel; it burns and it warms you. My memory is like a chest: There are so many drawers in that chest, and when I want to be a fifteen-year-old boy, I open up a certain drawer and I find the scenery I saw when I was a boy in Kobe. I can smell the air, and I can touch the ground, and I can see the green of the trees. That’s why I want to write a book.

8) The good thing about writing books is that you can dream while you are awake. If it’s a real dream, you cannot control it. When writing the book, you are awake; you can choose the time, the length, everything. I write for four or five hours in the morning and when the time comes, I stop. I can continue the next day. If it’s a real dream, you can’t do that.

9) Which is why I am writing this book. To think. To understand. It just happens to be the way I’m made. I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend them.

10) I know how fiction matters to me, because if I want to express myself, I have to make up a story. Some people call it imagination. To me, it’s not imagination. It’s just a way of watching.

Do you like reading fantasy? Check out my review of 10 books from 10 different fantasy sub-genres.

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What is a Didactic Story?

Benita hates talking to her aunt Chloe, if you could even call what they do talking. Mostly Benita listens. Aunt Chloe has stories — stories about her life — story about her childhood, stories about her marriage, stories about her children, sometimes about work she did, sometimes about people she knew, other times about a trip she took. Always, she ends with this phrase: “And that’s why we [fill in the blank] and you should too.” 

Benita waits for that finishing remark so she can nod and agree. It always comes, all she had to do was wait. And when it does, it punches her in the gut. It doesn’t allow her to enjoy the story, because in the end, she knows that Aunt Chloe isn’t telling a fun story, she’s lecturing. 

You could say that Aunt Chloe’s stories are didactic. 

But is that not good? Why is it bad to tell didactic stories? Shouldn’t you want your listeners to leave with some wisdom like a nice souvenir that they can take with them into the future? Telling didactic stories seem like giving your audience the most bang for their buck — the best use of their time. 

There was a time long ago when didactic stories were popular. Religious sermons, ancient texts, stories that teach ethics such as Aesop’s Fables, are examples of didactic stories that have favourable reputations, because they taught people how to be civil as they learned to live with each other. 

From the stories of Christ to Siddhartha, people have relied on didactic stories to learn how to confront the obstacles of life and participate in a society of many. 

The word didactic itself comes from Ancient Greece, which means “relating to teaching, education, and wisdom.” Ancient Greece, of course, being a key time and place for great philosophical teachers and thinkers, all telling didactic stories to get their ideas across. The importance for the general public to receive moral guidance couldn’t be more important back then when communication and entertainment were not as easily accessible as it is today. 

Yet, Aunt Chloe had a story — one that she thought was worth telling — should she not share her story the way she felt it should be told? What was Benita’s problem? She should be appreciative of a free lesson from someone of experience. Not that Aunt Chloe was Christ or Siddhartha, but she certainly had a point of view. 

Every storyteller has a perspective and it’s from there that they decide which stories are worth telling and which aren’t. Obviously they would want to tell a story that gives their audience the most value. 

But Value is an interesting word, often used to market something that is of quality but is cheaply sold. 

What didactic stories are — are simple answers. Without understanding the complexities of an audience member’s life, it aims to give directions and solutions as though every problem or pursuit can be resolved by obediently following what the story has to offer. Didactic stories make blunt assumptions, just like what Aunt Chloe does when she sees Benita. She assumes that she has the answers for her, even though Benita wasn’t asking. 

Didactic stories come across as preachy, or belittling, or having a hidden agenda. Didactic stories are not open ended. They have a very clear conclusion. Instead of allowing the audience to interpret what the story teaches, a didactic one outright tells them what to know. It is in that rushed method of communicating that the important lessons in the story are actually lost. Didactic stories end up being less effective in encouraging a certain behaviour as compared to telling a truly meaningful story with rich characters and an interesting plot. 

So, what can we do? How do we avoid telling stories like Aunt Chloe? 

First, understand that having a story with a message is not a bad thing. Every story should have a core theme worth sharing, however, one should avoid telling a story with the solitary goal of convincing the audience of an idea or a way of life. 

A good theme doesn’t make a good story. And a good story doesn’t need to do any convincing. By taking the audience through an emotional journey via the senses of the characters, we can actually get them invested in the exploration of the theme. The audience will come to the conclusion on their own or have a thought that opposes the meaning of the story. Either way, the audience is empowered to form their own opinions, even when it’s the storyteller that reaches the ending. And the ending certainly should not be how Aunt Chloe ends it, “And that’s why we [fill in the black], and you should too.” 

Secondly, didactic stories often lack the complexity and characteristics of real life events, and that’s why fairytales — which lessons of morals can come across as didactic — are often catered towards children as opposed to adults, who understand that a little girl being eaten by a wolf or pigs getting their houses blown down is just the beginning of the problem and not the end. Didactic stories, in order to keep their lessons clear, leave out the messiness that is reality. And what happens then is something that is more cliche than convincing. 

Lastly, to avoid telling didactic stories, we must understand that great stories don’t have easy answers. Great stories aren’t recipes or instruction manuals. Great stories are a mirror that forces us to confront the feelings inside ourselves. Great stories ask us what we think about this or that, but never telling us whether it’s right or wrong, for there are no right answers. Every audience member should be able to bring their own history, their own experiences, their own principles and values, and use those as the instruments to come up with their own conclusion

Therefore, a story that avoids being labelled as didactic allows for wondering and contemplation. 

And that is why we shouldn’t write didactic stories, and you shouldn’t either. 

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Writing Contests in 2021: Canada + International

Will 2021 be the year you write your best work?  

Whether you have a story you’re polishing up or 2021 is the year you’re clearing the table and starting anew, it’s good to give your writing projects some specific targets. Writing contests have always been a great motivator for me. It challenges me to put my best foot forward. It gives me a deadline.

Without much further ado, here are some prose contests in 2021.

(contest details are subject to change):  

The Jacob Zilber Prize for Short Fiction – PRISM

Prize: $1,500 grand prize

Deadline: January 15, 2021

Entry Fee:

  • Canadian: $35 CDN
  • USA: $40 USD
  • International: $45

Max Length: 4000 words

More details at PRISM international


 2021 Calibre Essay Prize

Grand Prize: $5,000 

Deadline: January 15, 2021

Entry Fee:

  • Online entry (current ABR subscriber) – $15
  • Online entry (full-time student) – $15
  • Online entry (standard/non subscriber) – $25*

Max Length: 5,000 words

More details at the Australian Book Review


CBC Literary Prizes – Nonfiction

Prize: $6,000

Deadline: February 28, 2021

Entry Fee: $25.00 (taxes included)

Length: 2,000 words

More details at CBC


The Edna Staebler Personal Essay Contest – The New Quarterly

Prize: $1000

Deadline: March 28, 2021

Entry Fee: $40

Length: 2,000-5,000 words

More details at The New Quarterly


 Short Grain Contest

Prize: $1,000 and publication in Grain

Deadline: TBD (Usually in April)

Entry Fee: $40

Length: 2,500 words

More details at Grain Magazine


Far Horizons Award for Short Fiction – The Malahat Review

Prize: $CAN 1,000

Deadline: May 1, 2021

Entry Fee:

  • Canadian: $25 CDN
  • USA: $30 USD
  • International: $35

Max Length: 3,500 words

More details at The Malahat Review


The Peter Hinchcliffe Fiction Award

Prize: $1,000

Deadline: May 28, 2021

Entry Fee: $40 CAD

Length: 2,000-5,000 words

More details at The New Quarterly


Room Creative Non Fiction Contest

Prizes:

  • First: $1,000 + publication in Room
  • Second: $250 + publication in Room
  • Honourable mention: $50 publication on Room’s website

Open: June, 2021

Entry Fee:

  • Canadian: $35 CAD
  • USA: $42 USD

Length: TBD

Note: Open to women, trans, two-spirited, and genderqueer people.

More details at Room Magazine


Constance Rooke CNF Prize – The Malahat Review

Grand prize: $1,000

Deadline: August 1, 2021

Entry Fee:

  • Canadian: $35 CAD
  • USA: $40 USD
  • International: $45 USD

Length: 3,000 words

More details at The Malahat Review


CBC Short Story Prize 

Prize: $6000

Deadline: Oct 2021

Entry Fee: $25

Length: 2500 words

More details at CBC


The Breakwater Fiction Contest

Prize: $1000 and publication in our Winter issue

Deadline: December 1, 2021

Entry Fee: $10.00 USD

Length: 1,000-4,000 words

More details at Breakwater


Check back in soon for deadlines for:

SubTerrain Lush Triumphant Literary Awards (Usually in June)

Know of any other Canadian writing contest? Please share it in the comments.

For more writing and editing resources, please consider signing up for my mailing list. You won’t receive emails from me often, but when you do, it’ll include only work that I’m most proud of.

How an Imperfectionist Thinks | 10 Tips to Avoid Perfectionism

I’m not a perfectionist. If I was, this video wouldn’t exist, because I’d be too busy fussing over every cut or picking the perfect background music. Or fixing the light or writing this script or making sure my hair looks good. I’ve gotten very good at not worrying about those things over the years because this… is a YouTube video and blog post so it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. 

I’m not here to impress anyone, I’m only here to express myself. 

I know a lot of people suffer from being perfectionists. It can be paralyzing and it can stop you from taking your first steps in creating something. It’ll stop you from learning and trying. I get it. You’re afraid you’ll look stupid.

Well, as someone who’ve looked stupid many times in the past, I’m happy to share some of my advice. Yes, this is me giving advice on how to not be good at things. 

10 tips — let’s go! 

Embrace Mistakes

After you hit publish, you are bound to see mistakes. You are going to want to pull that piece down and delete it forever, but it’s often something inconsequential. It’s often things that your audience, unless you tell them, won’t even notice. Even if someone calls you out for it, embrace that, someone actually took the time to let you know (even though they might have been a jerk telling you). Say thanks for catching that. Or oh man, my bad! It’s going to happen. There are way too many things to deal with. But with my next tip, I can help you get more comfortable making mistakes.

Make A lot

Once you start making a lot, then you stop being precious with each individual project. Mistakes that have happened five, ten projects back don’t matter anymore because your mindset is on to the next thing. You are going to make the next project better. When you have the mentality that you are going to make a lot, then being perfect doesn’t matter, but rather, consistency, practice, patience, and incremental improvement become the goals. 

Give Deadlines

If something is never due, then you will never feel any pressure to finish. You can keep working on it and working on it until the law of diminishing returns leaves any improvement so minuscule that it wouldn’t even be noticeable. Sometimes, you work a project so much that you end up making it worse. Give yourself a time limit, not a quality limit. There is an old adage known as Parkinson’s law which states that a task will expand to the timeframe given to complete. If something is due in a week, you’ll take a week to do it. If something is due in a month, you take the full month. The best way to make more is by shortening the deadlines.

Create Limitations

Much like giving yourself a deadline, creating limitations is actually a good way to avoid getting bogged down by your perfectionism. Whether it’s forcing yourself to write in a specific genre, having a maximum word count, or using a set structure like the hero’s journey, you establish some rules that you have to follow. Having complete freedom may sound great, but it is too nebulous for you to focus. You end up creating something too grand that keeps expanding and expanding, which is not good if you want to actually finish something. By setting limitations, you know the boundary in which your creativity can focus and flourish. 

Start Something New

If you feel the pain of imperfection, if you’ve been staring at your work and are not even sure how to fix it, then it’s time to start something new. Clear the table of what you’ve been doing and begin again. The longer we spend on a project the more invested we get in it and feel we need to do it justice. This type of thinking imprisons us. What we should do is put that project aside, recognize that we are not at the level to get it to the standard we want, and begin something new. I often tell myself,  “Okay, this new project I’m going to try to learn how to do this…” so that by the end, I’ll have the practice to go back and fix what I couldn’t in the previous project. 

Have a Clear Audience

Instead of creating something that I’d think everyone would enjoy — which is impossible — when I feel like my work isn’t perfect, I think about one specific person who I’m creating for. Once I have this person in mind, like for example with this video, I’m thinking of someone like you, who is perhaps curious to know why my projects are so not perfect and how I live with myself. Knowing you, I have a clearer understanding of why I’m doing this and I feel supported. Also, don’t be afraid to make things for yourself. Your audience can easily be yourself in the future. I want to make a video for myself a year from now. I want to write a book that I want to read. Making it for yourself is as worthwhile as making it for a million faceless fans. You probably won’t make money, but then again, you never know until you finish. 

Work on Multiple Projects At Once

I usually have multiple projects going at once because if I ever get stuck, tired, or angry at a specific project, I can just switch to another. This allows me to always be making something. Even though my attention is scattered, there is often progress happening on multiple fronts. Experts will tell you not to do this. And I’m no expert, however, it’s this diversifying method that has kept me from burning out. It’s also helped with my continuous improvement even though it’s not as exponential as focusing on one specific project at a time, in the end, I still have something to show for it, which to me, is worth a whole lot. 

Have a Learning Mindset

Much like advice number 5, it’s good to go into each project with the eagerness to learn, not the pressure of making it perfect. If you can approach a project as an opportunity to learn something specific then you can measure the success of the project not on the merits of the work but rather your experience and knowledge gained from it. Having that student approach is so humbling because then you can ask questions and discover as you go, as opposed to feeling like you need to land the perfect trick in front of a group of judges. You don’t need that type of pressure.  

Accept That You Might Lose it Forever

Create with the knowledge that tomorrow that project might disappear. Something could have happened to your hard drive and everything was erased or there were a fire and all your material burned to the ground. Know that what you are making is not going to last forever. It might not even survive the process in being finished. It’s a terrifying thought, but that’s why it’s so important to not be precious with your work and do it because of the enjoyment and not because you want to make something so astoundingly perfect that it can stand the test of time — because nothing can. 

You’re Not Perfect (neither is your audience)

We all have the idea of a perfect project in our minds. In there it is beautiful and complete and so very great. But we are not perfect and as soon as we attempt to transfer what’s in our brain into the external world, we are bound to muddy everything up. Languages, colours, and emotions appear and sound differently to different people. Even if you think it’s perfect, you cannot help how others are going to respond to it. Everyone has different preferences and tastes — and nobody is completely right or completely wrong. You are bound to make something some will love and you are bound to make something that someone will hate.

Those are my 10 thoughts on how I live with the fact that I’ll never create anything perfect, nor do I even try. I wish I have a little more attention to details sometimes and perhaps I could be a little bit more diligent with my work, but honestly, I feel like this approach has kept me content and consistent. But like I said, everyone should have their own process and as long as you are enjoying what you’re doing then it doesn’t matter if you want to make something perfect or not. None of this matters. 

For more writing and editing resources, please consider signing up for my mailing list. You won’t receive emails from me often, but when you do, it’ll include only works that I’m most proud of.

What is Crude Writing?

Frank works at a firm but he really wants to write the next great classic — and he has just the story. But why is he struggling to get his work published? 

True. He believes that once the first draft is written, he’s 80% done, perhaps a little bit of proofreading is needed, but the agency and publishing house will deal with that. After all, the idea is great! 

Alas, no responses. In a moment of (what he considered) weakness, he allows his coworker to read his work. “I like the story,” says his coworker, “but the writing, it’s a bit crude.” 

Crude!? How dare he criticize his work… his style… his self-expression. “Yes… there might be some typos,” says Frank returning to his desk, thinking: He wasn’t crude… He knew crude and his writing wasn’t crude. Crude was his friend Kyle.  

He recalls hanging with his old high school friends at an upscale restaurant where he frequents regularly. After a few drinks, one of her friends, Kyle, who had recently returned from Europe was boasting about all the adventures and sexual escapades he had. 

“Oh man! You should have seen the babes I was with. They were sexy, big tits, big ass, if you know what I mean…” Kyle made some grotesque gestures — Frank understood what he meant, there wasn’t a lot of subtlety to it, but they were at a nice restaurant and the way Kyle was speaking was making him uncomfortable. He looked around to see if the other patrons were watching. 

Kyle was crude! Frank knows that. How can his coworker use the same word to describe his writing?  

Well… like crude oil or crude sugar, you can say that Kyle’s behaviour, Frank’s writing, and (even my drawings here) are undeveloped — it’s raw, unrefined, unpolished. While it is in the natural state, it is lacking the completeness that a quality product should have. 

When we bring that understanding of the word “crude” and relate it to our writing, even though we’ve poured our heart and soul into a piece of work, without the revision necessary, it could indeed come across as crude. 

But Frank’s writing is not a lost cause. Crude is not completely negative. Crude writing can be strong in some sense. It doesn’t leave room for interpretations. It’s not poetic, sure, but it’s clear and blunt (often to a line of offensiveness). Nevertheless, crude writing gets the point across in a direct way. Crude writing is rarely misunderstood. It might be abrasive or rough, but the concept is there in its purest form. Crude writing is something Frank can work with. Crude writing is better than nothing written.

The problem is with Frank’s expectations. He wants to have his work published. He wants it to be regarded as a classic. He wants to have his work within a certain space. And it’s in that act of putting something where it doesn’t yet belong, like Kyle’s talk about lewd acts in an upscale restaurant, that makes Frank’s writing crude. When comparing his work against those who have spent months and years refining their stories — using the same guidelines to judge — it simply doesn’t meet the standard. 

There is certainly a place for crude writing — in fact — for many, it might be a style that works for their personality. There are people out there who would happily consume crude sugar, but most people would rather eat candy. 

If you want your writing to appeal to the largest number of readers, then embracing the fact that you write crudely might not be the best place to start. Readers look for books and articles, the same way shoppers buy groceries, and when shopping, you’d rarely find crude sugar and chocolate bars in the same aisle. The same goes with writing. 

Crude writing can happily live on a blog or a Facebook wall. Just like how Kyle’s sexual stories can live happily at a bar. Yet, it’s when we want to have our work and ourselves reach a certain level, like athletes or actors preparing for a competition or performance, we need to put in the work to polish and refine. 

Frank is proud of his work. It is a personal piece, pouring freshly out of him. Yet, he did not see the crudeness. He is inexperienced and the work is too close to him. He goes through it again, but doesn’t know what to fix or improve on. This is a frustrating place to be. 

Crudeness comes from lack of self awareness. It often needs not only someone to point it out, but someone with the patience to offer suggestions after they pointed it out. It’s having that direction to offer that makes someone a good editor for writing and life. It has to be a mutual progression. If Frank confronted Kyle in the restaurant and told him he was being crude, he would have reacted the same way Frank did after his coworker read his writing. Defensively. In order to overcome crudeness, one needs help from someone who has experience confronting and overcoming the process themselves. But most importantly, they need to want to be helped. 

Nobody can make you write a second draft, if you think the first one is perfect.

For more writing and editing resources, please consider signing up for my mailing list. You won’t receive emails from me often, but when you do, it’ll include only works that I’m most proud of.

How to Diversify Your Reading | 1/5 Rule

How many books  written by a dead white man have you read? How many books have you read from someone of  the same gender as yourself? Of the same ethnicity? How many books have you read by someone from your country? 

When we choose what to read, we tend to gravitate to what we are familiar with. I was brought up in public school to read classical books, books by white people. I reflect on all the stories I’ve read, and I’m ashamed to say I wasn’t that surprised. 

It is time we diversify our reading — and I’m going to approach this in a pragmatic way. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop reading books by white men. No, it just means I’m going to expand my perception of books that are available to me without that feeling that the author had not written the book for me. It was written for me — if I choose to read it. So here is what I’m doing. 

I’m calling it the 1 out of 5 rule. 1 book out of 5 I read will be from a writer of a different gender or sexual identity. 1 book out of 5 will be from a writer of a different ethnicity. 1 book out of 5 will be from a writer of a different nationality. 1 book out of 5 will be a book that I think I’ll hate, which I feel will oppose my beliefs and interest. 1 book out of 5 will be a book of my choice, anything I want. 

With something like books, we can’t be colourblind readers, because currently in most book store white authors take up more shelf space and therefore, if you just go in and grab a book, you’ll likely pick up one from a white author. At this very moment, if you want to read something written by a black, indigonious or person of colour, you need to dig for it. You need to make a conscious choice to do that. You need to go further down the aisle to look for it. And it’s fine. But let’s make that effort to do so. And this is how we start. It doesn’t mean we are going to stop reading Hemingway, Whitman and Faulkner. It means we are going to bring up the other authors as well, authors with perspectives that aren’t of the white man. 

Look, there is no clear way forward. People are arguing and people are yelling. People are unable to be compassionate. People are blaming and people are shaming. Before we join that mob. Before we yell and scream — and add to the noise. Before we make a post about how we care and make other performative activism. Before we get overwhelmed and outraged. We need to start not by destroying the system, but we need to start by fortifying our ability to have empathy and our ability to be compassionate. That is where it starts. Reading is where it starts. Understanding is where it starts. Learning to think for ourselves is where it starts. 

That’s how I’m going to diversify my reading and I hope you’ll join me. 

I like to read a few different books at the same time. I find it helps me motivated to read more and it generally inspires me to write a lot.

Don’t get too distracted, but here is my YouTube channel filled with writing inspirations and ideas to help with your creative process. Check it out!

For more writing and editing resources, please consider signing up for my mailing list. You won’t receive emails from me often, but when you do, it’ll include only work that I’m most proud of.

How “No Country For Old Men” Went From Novel to Movie

As Cormac McCarthy, the author of No Country for Old Men would put it: when we look back at the past, we tend to view it through “pink lens”. He recalled regular conversations with his grandmother, where she lamented that in her youth, young men wouldn’t spend nights playing poker while their girlfriends were left alone. Of course, such proclamations, as McCarthy knew, were unfounded as men have been known to partake in poker, pool, and other activities without their better halves since the beginning of time. However, his grandmother believed her statement and that in her lifetime the world had shifted — perhaps for the worse. 

Written during the apprehensive periods after 9/11, No Country For Old Men is a story about corruption and greed, chance and justice, but it’s also a story about the foreboding future that we’re hurtling towards, and the ineptitude of our leaders, our law enforcements, and ourselves as we brace for violence and destructive forces that our beyond our comprehension. 

Over a decade since it’s initial publication and adaptation by the Coen Brothers, the story’s nihilistic themes are still relevant as we’re now confronted with obstacles that the old men in charge seem unprepared to handle. 

This is the story of Cormac McCathy’s inspiration and Joel and Ethan Coen’s process towards adapting the novel that pulls off the shades and reveals a world worthy of pessimism. 

The Novel

Born in 1933 in Providence, Rhode Island, Cormac McCarthy knew from an early age that he would fail to be a respectable citizen. Hating school from the early days and vowing never to waste his life working, taking orders from others, he pursued a life as a writer, educating himself with books during his time in the Air Force while dispatched in Alaska, when he was twenty-three years old. 

With a curriculum designed by himself, he read novels feverishly from literary greats including Herman Melville, Fedor Dostoyevsky, and William Faulkner, who was perhaps the one he drew his style from the most. A lot of Faulkerian themes could be found in McCarthy’s first novel, The Orchard Keeper, published in 1965 had, which makes sense because it earned him The William Faulkner Foundation Award for notable debut novel. 

McCarthy, with a literary grant, would end up building momentum from his first novel, travelling Europe, writing three more novels, before receiving a McArthur Genius Grant that enabled him, in 1985, to publish his fifth and perhaps most critically revered work, Blood Meridian, pushing him to the level as one of the great American writers of his generation.

In the 90s, McCarthy finally got mainstream recognition for The Border trilogy that included, All the Pretty Horses, published in 1992, The Crossing, published in 1994, and Cities of the Plains, published in 1998. While Blood Meridian was a violent, horrific story full of blood and carnage — The Border trilogy was restrained. However, with his next novel, No Country for Old Men, published in 2005, McCarthy turned the dial back, as the depiction of senseless evil required a trail of blood for the readers and the old sheriff in the story to follow.   

As the years past, McCarthy stayed true to his personal ideology and avoided succumbing to greed or distractions. He made his writing the prime focus of his life, forgoing lucrative opportunities and public adulations. He grew up not wanting to work, and in a way he succeeded. In a rare interview with Oprah in 2007, after winning a Pulitzer Prize for his 2006 novel, The Road, the writer dispelled the illusion that his achievements — although were not work — weren’t effortless. He had no advice to offer aspiring writers seeking a workfree life, except this, “if you are really dedicated, you can probably do it.” One has to work to not work. 

The Movie

Prior to 2000, the relationship between McCarthy and Hollywood had not been great. For example, Blood Meridian was deemed a cursed adaptation project. The list of esteemed filmmakers that had been linked to the project and then forced to surrender due to the complexity included Ridley Scott, Tommy Lee Jones, Martin Scorsese, John Hillcoat, and James Franco. The problem wasn’t that these filmmakers weren’t imaginative or talented enough, the problem was that the studios weren’t willing to take a risk on it. 

Go figure, that the first adaptation that Hollywood would commit to was All the Pretty Horses in 2000. Directed by Billy Bob Thornton and starring Matt Damon and Penelope Cruz, All the Pretty Horses received an overwhelmingly negative reception to no fault of the source material. What hurt McCarthy’s first movie adaptation was the politics behind the production. The first cut of the movie was over three hours long, as Thronton had wanted, but Miramax insisted that he cut 35% from it. It was this that ripped the heart and soul from the movie, making it feel rushed, uninvolved, and flat. Some believe that the edits were forced upon Thronton because of his previous directorial foray, Sling Blade, in 1996, where he’d refused to make edits. 

McCarthy always had an interest in stage and cinema. During his career, he experimented with writing scripts including a play, Sunset Limited in 2006 and a screenplay, The Counselor in 2013, directed by Ridley Scott. No Country for Old Men was originally written as a script, however, when it didn’t gain any tractions from Hollywood, he rewrote it as a novel. 

Luckily, by the time he was ready to publish, the manuscript found its way into the hands of producer Scott Rubin. Rubin purchased the film rights and handed the script to Joel and Ethan Coen, who were starting their next project, which was an adaptation of a novel. The novel they had in mind initially was To the White Sea by James Dickie, published in 1993, a story of an American gunner surviving the final months of World War II in war-torn Tokyo. In the summer of 2005, the Coen brothers decided to put To the White Sea on the shelf and focus on No Country for Old Men. 

What motivated them to pursue No Country for Old Men was how unconventional the story was told and the subverting genres. They loved the idea of the good guy and the bad guy never meeting face-to-face. They were drawn by the unforgiving landscape and the sentimentality of the story. 

While No Country for Old Men would be the first official Coen Brothers adaptation, they were no strangers to drawing inspiration from literature. Their 1990 neo-noir, Miller’s Crossing was inspired by American novelist Dashiell Hammett and the 2000 comedy, O’Brother, Where Art Thou? was a modern interpretation of Homer’s Odyssey. When asked about their selection process by Charlie Rose in a 2007 interview, they simply stated, “Why not start with Cormac? Why not start with the best?” 

And so they did. While one brother typed on the computer, the other held a copy of No Country for Old Men open flat. They were praised for the faithfulness to the novel, where they didn’t so much as alter, but rather compressed scenes to fit with the medium of film.

Shot by the admired cinematographer, Roger Deakins, No Country For Old Men was a sharp left turn from the Coen Brothers’ two disappointing attempts at comedy, Intolerable Cruelty starring George Clooney and Cathrine Zeta-Jones in 2003 and The Ladykiller starring Tom Hanks in 2004. Pulling from the starkness of Fargo, the violence of Miller’s Crossing and the stylization of The Man Who Wasn’t There, No Country for Old Men required the Coen Brothers and Deakins to be absolutely precise technically, in order to capture the realism that the story required. 

Meticulous storyboarding kept the movie on track, even through all the debates regarding the staged violence on screen. Without the violence, the emotional payoff would be lost and the merciless evil will lack the gravatas the story required. The movie doesn’t glamourize the violence, but instead shows the brutality of it. The violence happens quickly, savage and painful — and in a way, without purpose. The famous coin flip scene in the convenience store simply wouldn’t have the same tension, if we, the audience, didn’t recognize what could be possible if chance went the other way. 

No Country for Old Men is a movie almost devoid of music. The choice to go with a minimalistic soundtrack was seen as a removal of a film making safety net. Music helps the audience reach an emotional peak faster. It guides the story and builds tension, allowing the viewer to anticipate what will happen next. Think back to any thriller or suspense movie, and you may recall the soundtrack leading up to a climactic moment. But without music, the storytelling is exposed, giving the audience an out-of-the-comfort-zone experience, making the movie arguably more gripping and suspenseful. It puts you there with the characters. You hear the breathing. You hear the footsteps. You hear your heart pumping. 

The Coen brothers had a clear vision of who they wanted to cast in the role of the aging sheriff Ed Tom Bell. There was a shortlist of actors who had the qualities to portray a character who could really inhabit the landscape and provide a profound performance of an elderly man coming to terms. Tommy Lee Jones grew up in San Saba, Texas, not far from where the story was set.

Initially, the role of Lewellyn Moss was offered to Heath Ledger, who in 2006 was coming off one of the biggest years with starring roles in The Lords of DogTown, The Brothers Grimm, and Brokeback Mountain, which earned him his first Oscar nomination. However, Ledger had to turn down the opportunity because he wanted to spend time with his daughter. 

Then came Josh Brolin. With help from Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez to film an audition reel during a lunch break while on set for 2007’s Grindhouse, Brolin entered the conversation for the vacant role. While the audition tape — shot on a million dollar camera — didn’t have the desired effect for the Coen Brothers. The director and writer duo would eventually meet with Brolin, through much persistence from his agent — and decided that the child star from The Goonies was the right choice. Even though before shooting started, Brolin got into a motorcycle accident while heading back from a wardrobe fitting, breaking his collarbone. Luckily for Brolin, his character would have a bullet wound in the shoulder for the majority of the movie. 

The most memorable performance in No Country for Old Men came from Javier Bardem’s portrayal of the psychotic hitman, Anton Chigurh. The role brought a lot of challenges to Bardem, including a femine haircut that was not a wig but his real hair, which made going out in public during the three months of filming a unique experience for the Spanish actor. Another challenge was finding humanity in a character that had no qualms towards human life. Bardem pointed to the scene where Chigurh was alone stitching up his wound as an important one for the character as it showed the audience that he was not immune to pain, he was not a robot, and it’s there that we understand that this monster was like us, and that made him so much scarier. 

With a budget of $25 million, No Country for Old Men was shot in the early summer of 2006 in Las Vegas and New Mexico, where it first crossed paths with a rival movie that it’ll forever be connected to: Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood. The Daniel Day-Lewis epic about a ruthless oil tycoon, based on the 1927 novel by Upton Sinclair Oil!, shared location with the Coen Brothers in Marfa, New Mexico. The biggest problem with the shared location was that There Will Be Blood’s production sent heavy smoke into the air one day, causing No Country for Old Men to pause their shoot to allow the smoke to dissipate. Both movies set in the desert, with similar themes of greed and corruption, will be deemed by many to be the top two movies that year.  

What made many love No Country for Old Men were perhaps the same reasons some disliked it. It was a movie that defied conventions, it straddled genres — suspense, crime, western, and american gothic — and it was, to many, infuriatingly mysterious. The offscreen death of Moss, the villain’s pathetic escape, and the abrupt ending, left many confused. But it was in those cinematic choices that made the movie so memorable, because it mirrored the lives we were living. We brought our own interpretation to the story. Are we governed by destiny or self-determination? Are we the hunters or the hunted? How have our immoral acts lead to where we are now, and how many more can we get away with before our luck runs out? These are of course questions without clear answers, but No Country for Old Men suggests that our luck is already up, and here are the consequences. What do we make of that? 

On May 19, 2007, No Country for Old Men premiered at the Cannes Film Festival where it became a frontrunner for the Palm D’or but would end up losing to the Romanian film, 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days. On November 9, 2007, the movie was released in the United States, grossing over $1,200,000 through the opening weekend, becoming the highest-grossing Coen Brothers movie of the time. 

The movie would be nominated for eight Academy Awards for Best Sound Mixing, Best Sound Editing, Best Film Editing, Best Cinematography, and winning Best Adapted ScreenPlay, Best Actor in a Supporting Role for Javier Bardem, Best Directors, and most incredibly, Best Picture, beating out Atonement, Juno, Michael Clayton, and their western rival, There Will Be Blood. 

No Country for Old Men is a movie I think about often. It was released in my final years as an inspiration-seeking teenager and I watched it in a theatre that no longer exists. Like the character of Sheriff Bell, who reminisces about a simpler time, I too think back fondly of that experience — I remember sitting on the edge of my seat in that empty theatre on a Saturday afternoon. I have failed to recreate the experience ever since. That’s a great lesson in life, and perhaps the most pertinent theme of the story, regardless of chance or free will, we can only have this moment and whether we choose or not, this life will happen, so if nothing more, we should brace for it. 

If the Coen Brothers were to adapt another novel, what would you like to see? Let me know in the comments below.

For more in the series of adaptations, please check out this YouTube playlist here.

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