Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
O Me! O Life! by Walt Whitman
****Spoilers discussed
This is my all time
favorite Walt Whitman poem. He examines the human condition and the never
ending suffering that surrounds us all. He answers the most basic question…
what’s the point of life?
The answer is simple. The point of life is… life. That it, and we, exist. We are here. The question is why, but the
answer is who. All of our
experiences, from the spectrum of joy to pain, make up the tapestry of our
lives. It is how identity is formed. Whitman is telling us to embrace life,
including the moments of suffering, because it makes you who you are. In the
equally simple and excruciatingly difficult act of living life, you contribute
a verse to the powerful play known as humanity. Your existence
matters.
This is why I am a lover of stories. Writing is the examination
of humanity. No matter who it is, the writer puts pen to paper because they
have something to say. They have something to contribute. And maybe, if we’re
lucky, we can glean some meaning from it and apply it to our own lives. It
doesn’t matter if it’s a book, poem, television show, movie, comic, or even a
news article. Life exists in every sentence, word and letter. Life exists on
the page.
A writer exposes themselves in ways most of us can’t. To write
is to be brave. There is nothing more terrifying than the blank page. Every
time a writer puts pen to paper, they jump off a cliff. I respect writers.
Whether it’s good or bad, writing is a risk and is something to be
admired. A writer is contributing a verse to the powerful play.
Writing is art. An art to be studied, absorbed, considered and
maybe even attempted. My love for stories is the reason I studied it in college
and it’s a process I still find fascinating. I suppose it’s this deep love of
stories and admiration for writers that makes me protective of the art
form.
Given recent spoilers, particularly Felicity’s paralysis, it was
thought by some, yours truly included, that the code name the writers chose for
Felicity was Oracle. This theory has since been debunked by the always fabulous
Wendy Mericle. However, it sparked a debate that I found bewildering,
fascinating, but ultimately alarming in nature. I engaged in a Twitter
discussion about Felicity’s code name as Oracle and was privy to a variety of
opinions about it. I admit Twitter is not the best place for comprehensive
discussion given the 140 character limit. Everyone was polite, but I ultimately
left the discussion with “let’s agree to disagree.” However, something was
bothering me and it bothered me throughout the weekend.
I posted a humorous meta on the matter and I still stand by
that. However, this particular post is taking a more serious look at the issue,
simply because I have found a perspective in both the comic book community and
fandom that I find concerning. Writing is how I process my thoughts, so
here we go.
There seems to be an emergence of two extreme schools of
thought. A commitment to comic canon or to originality. Both schools of thought
differ vastly, but ultimately pose huge issues to Arrow, the writers and
storytelling in general.
First let me preface this by saying this is not all comic book
fans or fandom members who hold these opinions. Rather, it’s simply a trend
I’ve noticed since joining the fandom.
As I said, Wendy confirmed Felicity’s code name will not be
Oracle. However, what ignited this debate was the few characteristics Felicity
held in common with Oracle, or Barbara Gordon: paralysis and technical
abilities. If these commonalities didn’t exist, the idea that Felicity’s code
name could be Oracle wouldn’t have gained traction. However, no matter what the
code name, the concerns I have still exist.
Here were some of the arguments against Felicity’s code name
being Oracle:
Comic
Canon Argument
Using Oracle as Felicity’s code name makes her Barbara Gordon.
It destroys both Barbara Gordon and Felicity’s character.
Two characters using the same code name cannot exist in the DC
universe. It essentially eradicates any chance of Felicity’s character
surviving in the future in any other medium.
Barbara Gordon is an iconic character. Oracle is too big a name
for Felicity to use. It’s like giving Batman to someone who isn’t Bruce Wayne.
The
Originality Argument
She’ll be seen as just a knock off of Barbara Gordon. Felicity
deserves to carve her OWN legacy. She needs an original code name.
Arrow needs to stop borrowing from the Batman comics.
Let’s examine the
Comic Canon argument. I don’t disagree that comic canon has its place. Comics
have some origins in 18th century Japan and 1830s Europe, but comic books were
first popularized in the United States during the 1930s. That’s 85 years of rich
history. History and characters that should be honored.
My frustration with the
comic canon argument is the rigidity in it. A character must fit X parameters
and if it does not meet those parameters it is discarded. So many fans want exactly
what is written in the comic presented on screen. There’s no room for
variation. No room for growth. No room for a different take. Words like
“iconic” and “destroy” are used to marginalize another
writer’s attempt to take what someone else created and expand upon it.
No, it is not plagiarism.
If you study the history of literature, from Greek mythology to Maya Angelou,
you would discover overlap in storytelling. There are seven basic plots,
created by the Greeks, that we have retold for centuries:
1. Voyage &
return
2. The quest
3. Comedy
4. Rebirth
5. Tragedy
6. Overcoming the
monster
7. Rags to riches
Other people have qualified
them as:
1. Person vs. self
2. Person vs. nature
3. Person vs. destiny
4. Person vs. person
5. Person vs. many
people
6. Person vs.
supernatural
7. Person vs. machines
Different names, different
adventures, different outcomes, but always the same, singular idea behind them.
So does this mean we are simply repetitive in nature? No, because within this
structure lies the chaos. An infinite amount of ideas and possibilities. Numbers
can create patterns, but there are infinite limits to those patterns. It’s why
we keep telling these stories. Variation, even amongst overlap, is how the
themes survive. These basic plots capture the essence of the human existence. It’s
why they will live on forever. We can never stop learning what it means to be
human. We will never know all the answers.
Adherence to strict comic
canon ignores the very nature of comic storytelling: variation. Writers take
the same characters, or the same names, and adapt them time and again. Thousands
of stories. Hundreds of variations. Comics have survived because the comic book
writers embraced change. They embraced it because comic book writers are lovers
of stories. They are the torch bearers of our modern day mythology. They know
variation, change, adaptation is how the stories will live on forever.
Using Oracle as Felicity’s code name makes her Barbara Gordon.
It destroys both Barbara Gordon and Felicity’s character.
I think there’s some
confusion with this code name issue that needs clarifying. Felicity and Diggle
are a separate category. Unlike, Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Roy Harper and
Thea Queen, Felicity and Diggle are not becoming their code name counterparts. Felicity
and Diggle are already fully realized heroes. The code name is purely practical
reasons. The code name does not change who the character is. That’s not the
same for every character. The best example is Oliver Queen. We are watching the
origin story of the comic book character, The Green Arrow. The Green Arrow is
the end point and is WHO Oliver will become. That said, even in that journey
there exists VAST variation from the comics. Saying Felicity is Oracle doesn’t
mean she’s becoming Barbara Gordon. It means it was a fitting code name. An
Oracle is all knowing, all seeing. Certainly describes Felicity Smoak in my
book.
Nor does Felicity Smoak
sharing the same code name destroy her character or Barbara Gordon’s for that
matter. I always find the use of the word “destroy” fascinating. It’s
pretty difficult to destroy a successful comic book character. If there’s a
particular story you don’t like or a version you don’t like, that doesn’t erase
the story and version you do like.
The variation creates
choice. Perhaps Felicity Smoak wouldn’t have been your Oracle. Perhaps Barbara
Gordon is. For someone else, Felicity Smoak could have been their Oracle. The
point is, the choice needs to exist. That’s part of the storytelling process.
The minute you try to control the version you are controlling creativity. Superhero
names have lived on in brand new characters (the Green Arrow, the Green
Lantern). The new character doesn’t destroy the old. The story simply goes on.
If Felicity Smoak is called
Proxy or Watchtower does that destroy the previous versions of those names?
Is Felicity suddenly more Felicity because she is Proxy or Watchtower rather
than Oracle? Of course not. Does calling Felicity Proxy suddenly make her Wendy
White? NO. The code name is arbitrary. The code name doesn’t give Felicity her
identity. Felicity gives her identity to the code name.
Barbara Gordon is an iconic character. Oracle is too big a name
for Felicity to use. It’s like giving Batman to someone who isn’t Bruce Wayne.
That word “iconic” is tossed around too casually in my
opinion. The most important part of marketing is to know your audience. To the
comic book audience, perhaps Barbara Gordon is an iconic character. However,
Arrow’s audience is broader than simply the comic book community.
Let’s run some maths. Total
North American comic book sales for 2015 was almost 63 million. This number
simply represents what stores, not customers, purchased but it
will give a rough estimate. (Sorry, couldn’t find online sales). Let’s say the stores sold every single copy. There
are currently 528.7 million people in North America. Of the total population,
only 11% read comic books. That’s a small segment
of the population and I think the numbers I used were somewhat generous. What is “iconic” to
comic book fans does not necessarily translate to the broader population.
That said, let’s just agree
that Oracle is a big name in the comic world. I reject the idea that Felicity
Smoak isn’t worthy of such a name. When David Ramsey revealed that the original
intent was to make John Diggle Green Lantern there wasn’t an outcry from comic
fans that Green Lantern was too big a name for the character. Overall, the
consensus was disappointment that it failed to get approval.
What’s the
difference between Felicity Smoak and John Diggle? They are both characters who
did not exist in the comics prior to Arrow. The Green Lantern was made into a
movie. By that fact alone, it reached a broader audience than Oracle, making
Green Lantern a more well known character. And yet, the outcry was almost nonexistent.
Why? Because multiple variations of the Green Lantern, different characters with the same superhero name, exists? So why can’t that happen with Oracle?
At some point there’s always a first variation. Alan Scott gave way to Hal
Jordon. Why couldn’t Felicity Smoak have been the first variation? I kept help but feel there is some misogyny in
the argument. A way to belittle a female character and to make her less.
And who’s to say that
someday a comic book writer won’t give the name “Batman” to a
character who isn’t named Bruce Wayne? Just because it hasn’t happened yet doesn’t mean it never will. The comic canon purist loves to say what can’t be
done and yet their world exists in the fantastical. How can you place
limitations on superheroes? How do you place limitations on mythology? The
entire concept of a superhero is the antithesis of “can’t.” The idea
behind the hero’s journey, “Overcoming the monster” or mythology is
creating a character that isn’t limited to normal human conventions. And yet,
we want to limit them by name. Those two concepts are diametrically opposed.
Two characters using the same code name cannot exist in the DC
universe. It essentially eradicates any chance of Felicity’s character
surviving in the future in any other medium.
I’ll admit that when it comes to DC they like to keep their
mediums separate, unlike Marvel. The chances of Felicity having the code name Oracle while another character in the movies also shares it was always
pretty slim. It doesn’t fit the DC business model. It’s also probably why Arrow
couldn’t get approval for it. Wendy did say “unfortunately” and it’s
obvious they are borrowing characteristics from the Oracle storyline for
Felicity Smoak’s Season 4 journey. That said, the idea wasn’t impossible. Again,
my issue is the rigidity in the argument. That two different characters, in two
different mediums, with the same code name, cannot exist. Why can’t they? Somehow
I don’t think the world would implode if Felicity was Oracle on Arrow and Barbara
Gordon was Oracle in a Birds of Prey movie. Are we really limiting the story
potential to such a strident level? That’s frightening from my view.
As for the Originality
argument, it sounds better on paper but any extreme is crippling to an art form.
She’ll be seen as
just a knock off of Barbara Gordon. Felicity deserves to carve her OWN legacy.
She needs an original code name.
I agree that Felicity is an
original character. The writers made her up out of thin air. She bears no
resemblance to the Felicity Smoak in the comics and yet… the writers named
her Felicity Smoak. They gave her a comic book name. An Easter Egg to be sure,
but it also connected this original character to the source material.
I imagine adapting a comic
is a lot like writing fanfiction. You need to balance the character’s voice
with your own creativity. You have to write your own vision without straying
too far from the source. It’s incredibly difficult to do.
Again, this
“originality” argument’s basis is that Felicity will become Barbara
Gordon. That’s simply not the case. If they name her Proxy, she’s not Wendy
White. If they name her Watchtower, she’s not suddenly a promethium tower. A comic code name won’t erase Felicity’s legacy, simply because SHE’S NOT
BECOMING THAT CHARACTER.
I’m not opposed to Felicity getting an original name, but comic
names is how Arrow balances comic canon and their own unique vision. It’s a
small way they connect to the source material. Since it is their vision that’s
their right. Felicity does not suddenly become more “original”
because she has an original code name. This character is glorious in her own
right. She is already original just as she is. She doesn’t need a code name to
prove that.
Furthermore, John Diggle is
an Arrow original creation. Yet, nobody kicked up a fuss when his code name
discussion revolved around Green Lantern or, the ultimately chosen, Spartan.
Isn’t Diggle just as important a character? If Felicity deserves an original
code name, why doesn’t Diggle? Where was the outrage? That said, has the code
name Spartan suddenly erased the legacy of John Diggle? Of course not. He’s
still the character we’ve always known and loved. Diggle’s profound impact on
the story of Arrow and the comics was not remotely threatened. John Diggle
informed on Spartan. Spartan did not inform on John Diggle.
Arrow needs to stop borrowing from the Batman comics.
All hero’s journeys borrow
from one another. THEY ARE THE EXACT SAME STORY THEME. There is no such thing
as a completely original story. Not after centuries of human existence. Not
when we are simply retelling the same myths over and over. Yes, within the
structure lies the chaos, but the structure still exists.
Why is Arrow borrowing from
Batman any worse than Superman borrowing from Hercules? It’s not. I’d be hard
press to find a superhero character that does not inform on another superhero
character. Mort Weisinger readily admitted that The Green Arrow was influenced
by Batman. Are they the same character? Of course not. Given Arrow’s limited
source material, it’s only fitting they go to the hero’s tale that inspired the
character. If you wanted a completely original
story then comic book adaptations are not for you. Part of Arrow’s
responsibility is representing the source material from which the show is born
- the comics. A total rejection of source material is just as bad as a strict
adherence to it.
These
two ends of the spectrum pose an almost impossible dilemma to a writer. We want
the same story, but then in the next breathe we want a different story. The Arrow writers cannot win. And then the
tweeting begins. It was mostly people tweeting Marc and Wendy that they “can’t
make Felicity’s code name Oracle.”
The relationship between
audience and television shows is unique. In every other medium, be it books or
movies, the product is finished before it is open to audience consumption.
That’s not the case in television. Storytelling is an evolving process. We are
revealed the story, bit by bit, episode by episode. It takes years to finish
the story the writers intend to tell. It creates a dialogue between writers and
audience that is special. It becomes almost symbiotic in nature. The audience
has the ability to comment on the story in real time - as it is
developing. The writer has the ability to take this feedback and allow it to
influence their future choices, or not influence their future choices. An author cannot change their book after it is published. A director cannot refilm
a movie after it is released to theaters. But a television writer can hear
feedback on their work as they are creating it.
I think this reciprocal relationship has created a false perception
of what an audience member’s role is when watching a television show. Our job,
as audience members, is to react to the story before us. Our job is not to control the story. While we may love a
show to the depth of our souls, this is not our story to tell. It is the
writer’s story to tell. This is their vision. While we have the absolute right
to tell a writer what we like and do not like about a story, we do not have the
right to tell a writer what they can or cannot write.
Spoilers are tricky. Personally, I have the patience of a two
year old so when presented with the opportunity to know sooner rather than
later…sooner is always my pick. My husband finds this horrifying. He hates
spoilers. He wants to watch the show unfold completely unspoiled. We simply
differ in how we enjoy television.
Part of the joy in spoilers
is the bits and pieces of information we are given help me analyze the mind of
the writer, the choices they make and where they are ultimately taking the
story. As I said, I am obsessed with the writing process, so spoilers simply
add to that overall experience for me.
That said, when asked my opinion on spoilers, I make it clear
every single time that I do not formulate firm opinions on the storyline until
I see the aired episode. Why? Because a spoiler is simply bits and pieces. It
is not the full picture. To truly understand the story and the direction a
writer is taking it, I need to see it way the writer intended. I may think I know where a story is headed,
but I don’t really know. Not until the episode airs.
Formulating an opinion on the storyline, before I see the
writer’s vision in all its glory, is like judging a painting before it is
unveiled. I would never say to a painter before an unveiling, “You can’t paint
that.” Nor would that be my reaction once the painting is revealed. When
the painter asks me, “Why can’t I paint that?” then what is my answer? Because it
will look too much like Van Gogh or… it won’t look enough like Van
Gogh.
The truth is, the painter can paint whatever they want. The work
is proof of that. The painting stands before me as completed art. My role in
the process is to simply receive the art and form an opinion. My role is not to
control the artist.
My job as an audience member isn’t to love everything the writer
puts before me. Lord knows I’ve reacted negatively to a storyline and yes,
there are storylines I’d prefer not to see the light of day. It doesn’t mean
they can’t be written. It doesn’t
even mean they shouldn’t be written.
The mistakes in writing are as important as the successes. They are an integral
part of the art form. If the writer never makes a mistake, it means they are
never pushed to be better. It means they don’t learn and the art form suffers
as a result. It also requires a writer to know
whether a storyline will be successful or not, which is nearly impossible.
But if a writer only writes
what they believe will be popular,
they aren’t taking any risks. And risks are often where genius is born. Where
an idea that most of us haven’t even considered live. Rather than try to
control the mistake, and stop it before it happens, we should embrace them as part
of the process. As part of the story telling experience.
In truth, Olicity was born from a mistake. The Laurel &
Oliver love story failed on a spectacular level. The vacuum Lauriver left
behind created a need for another love story. In fact, Felicity Smoak’s
success was created from a failure of Arrow’s. The show was too dark. It needed
humor and light. These mistakes shined a blindingly clear light on what Arrow
needed. Would Felicity or Olicity exist without these mistakes? Certainly. If
this love story and character arrived on our door step on day one, we would not
love them any less. But writing is reflective of life and life is not a
straight line. We do not go from A to B to C. The same can be said of writing.
Arrow’s writing mistakes work in cohesion with their successes, by both
detracting and adding to the overall story.
Somehow this symbiotic
relationship we have with the Arrow writers has given birth to the idea that
we, as the audience, get to dictate the story. That we, as the audience, get to
control the story. This is not a process of typing up a manifesto of what we
want to see on Arrow and pressing send to Marc Guggenheim. That would mean WE
are writing the story, not him.
This is not a process of
throwing a fit every time the story does not go the way we think it should. I
find barrage of negativity any time there’s the slightest dip in the road astounding.
If the writers swerve, we don’t hold on for dear life. We bail out on them. We
condemn them. And why? Because we didn’t get our way? That’s not what storytelling
is about my friends.
It is not Marc Guggenheim’s
job to produce our vision of Arrow. Marc’s job is to produce his vision of
Arrow. Our job is to receive it. And yes, there will be times our vision and
Marc’s vision match up. There will be times the Arrow writers agree with the
audience. But there will be times they disagree. These moments don’t make the
story any less valid. It just makes it THEIR STORY. The truth is, the more people try to
control the art of storytelling, the more they suffocate it.