So, I took an internship at Penguin Books. And that kind of schedule didn't leave much time for writing. It was 18-hour days, six days a week, far removed from the creative folks and creative forces behind those stories. I figured working on movies was a surefire path to writing the things.
#HERO WARS BEST TEAM FOR ADVENTURE 9 SERIES#
And who better to write my Star Wars then me?Īfter college, I took production assistant jobs on movies and TV series in New York City: The Sopranos, Fear Factor, Little Manhattan, The Interpreter. But writing? I could do that all by myself. Shyness and social anxiety prevented me from getting classmates to hand over their weekend to help me film whatever project was due next. But I was lousy at most every part of film school. That movie, that daydreaming-it's what propelled me onward to college, to study film. I was still staring out at those twin suns-but now imagining myself being pulled into a big, wide world of backlots, camera rigs, and costumed actors rushing in and out of trailers. But maybe I could tell stories like those. But, like Luke, like a million kids who watched that scene, I wanted adventure.Īt some point, I realized the odds of leaving my hometown to join a space rebellion were pretty minimal. I had a wonderful childhood growing up in a mostly wonderful suburb. That image, the feeling it conjured, wormed its way into my head and just grew and grew. Max Brallier wrote the first The Last Kids on Earth book in 2015, the series is now an animated show on Netflix, that includes the voice of Mark Hamill. He wants to explore the galaxy and go on great adventures. My favorite moment in any movie, ever, is not a particularly original or unique one: Luke Skywalker, stuck on his nowhere desert planet, staring out at the twin setting suns. At the end of every homemade movie, I of course stood triumphant, looking like Luke after saving the galaxy. When I showed those movies to my parents, I saw a Hollywood production, despite the wiffle ball bat, our backyard, and a Darth Vader with the pre-adolescent voice of my little cousin. I dragged my little sister- along with every willing cousin and neighbor-into many lousy homemade movies. I gaze out at the living room, imagining my classmates gazing at me with that same awe. In a grand ceremony, the ragtag rebels are given awards, officially made heroes.
And more bouncing on the old couch in the TV room. There's more swooshing and clashing on the screen. On the living room couch, I lift a whiffle ball bat. On that tiny TV, Luke lifts his lightsaber. I acted out the drama on-screen, then expanded, changed, and restaged the action. Star Wars-all three VHS tapes rewatched and rewound so many times that the ribbons were ready to snap-would have been playing on our 18-inch TV/VHS combo set. I can transport myself back to that time, now. My time was spent on the couch, watching movies. I never joined Boy Scouts, never cleaned a littered stream. My childhood afternoons and weekends were never spent at soccer practice. The biggest weapon in my not-very-heavy arsenal is an ability to remember and recall my childhood-how I thought, imagined, daydreamed-and turn those recollections into stories. Beautiful prose, an ear for dialogue, razor-sharp plotting. Most authors seem to have one or two real strengths.
Or, rather, the man who played my hero on screen: Mark Hamill. And that's what was repeating in my head as I drove to meet my Star Wars hero: Luke Skywalker.
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