Blog: Ah-Ha – A Study in Agency

Ah-Ha – Take On Me video: A study in agency

Ah-Ha, Take On Me, is one of my favorite videos from my teen years. I think because the story is about a woman reading a comic book. In a time when I was stared at every time I entered the comic store as a solitary female, seeing another female with my passion for heroes in sequential art struck a cord.

Watching it now thirty years later, the story presented still resonates with me. A woman being pulled into a story then escaping back to the real world with her hero. Romance, action-adventure, fantasy, heroes, great 80’s music, and pretty awesome 80’s hair. (full video can be seen above)

The song “Take On Me” develops new meaning when viewed with the video. (words to the song can be found here: https://genius.com/A-ha-take-on-me-lyrics) The song is about a woman shying away from a relationship, but the guy asking if it okay to pursue her anyway. He needs to go somewhere in a day or two, so it’s understandable she doesn’t want to commit. Still the guy points out “it’s no better to be safe than sorry.” With a choice of losing love or never having it, which is better? A constant question in romances.

During the third verse the woman responses are questioned. Is she just being nice or is it real? The song continues either begging or daring the woman to “Take on me”. With just the song, it seems like asking to the point of begging (viewed through today’s millennium eyes, stalking is a consideration). But in the video, the whole song is clearly a dare. Are you willing to push the limits and discover just how good it can be?

In the song lyrics alone, no one really has agency, the ability to change the world and make a decision. The male singing the song has given the agency to the woman but nothing happens.

In the video both the male and female make choices which change their world. Initially the video sets the stage, the woman leads a solitary, boring life, reading a comic book in a diner late at night alone. The waitress drops of the check. We all identify and understand this world. Then it changes.

The comic male looks out at her from the panel art and winks, breaking the fourth wall. Surprised she looks around and verifies that no, her normal world is still normal, she isn’t dreaming. Then agency happens – the man extends an invitation to enter his world. Her agency response is to accept by grabbing his hand. This choice makes the rest of the story happen; their agency changed both their worlds.

But the agency has consequences. The panel police show up, hunting them down. They run away, but eventually reach a dead end. Up until this point the male has been a rogue, flirting, handsome, daring. Now he makes a choice changing him into a hero; agency not only changes his world but changes him. He rips open the page and sends her through, back to her world, then turns and faces the Big Bad to protect the exit until she is safe.

For her part, her agency comes again. Thrown out of the comic world back into her world, she discovers herself surrounded by the curious, angry, and surprised diner staff and patrons. She reacts by running. Reacting is not agency, but she was in the running mode and, rightly, still terrified from her recent experiences. What shows her agency, her being a heroine for her hero, is she did not forget to rescue him but pauses despite her desperate fear to trash dive before running. Grasping his world in her hands she retreats to the safety of her apartment. And there the first thing she does is discover his fate.

Three times she made a choice, always for the male hero. First responding to the rogue’s invitation to break the laws of their worlds, second to rescue him when every moment could mean danger from police for not paying her bill or men in white suits if she described where she’s been, and last to immediate try to find him again. But these were her choices. A sane person would have ignored the hand, left the comic in the trash, or at least throw it out once home and never look at it again. But her love powers her choice and agency.

The other major characters in the story have no agency. The waitress follows her role, anger at not being paid and surprised when the woman returns. The police do their job in the comic world. Only the hero and heroine have the power of choice.

The final agency of the story falls on the hero. Beaten near to death by the panel police, he gains energy from her love and a chance to escape to her world. Already damaged he starts throwing himself against the panels, the framework, the frame of a doorway between worlds. He is fighting; his final choice to risk everything to return to the woman.

A powerful story set to a pop-song.

WRITING EXERCISE: For you present WIP figure out points where your main character has agency and where s/he is just reacting to the situation and making choices. Is there a way to change some of the reactions to actions?

READING EXERCISE: For your most recent read, which characters of the book had agency and which did not? Where did the characters lack agency when they should have had some?

Other Cool Blogs: Superhero Novels

Image courtesy of vectorolie at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I love superpower prose from Jim Bernheimer’s Confessions of a D-List Supervillain to Liana Brooks’ Even Villains Fall In Love. I read comics veraciously as a child and  love the new age of novels mashing superheroes with tons of other options: mystery, YA, romance, and thriller. I’ve even taken a stab at it with my flashes (for example The Bleue Toscano Eggs of Power and There You Are). Eventually, I hope to put Ice Queen in her own romantic series.

A fellow superpower aficionado , Eric Searleman, has a site dedicated to reviewing superpower prose. It features lots and lots and lots of new books to add to my to-be-read list.

If you love superpower prose as much as I do, you might want to bookmark the Superhero Novels website. (The website is no longer responding as of 7/21/2020. It was superheronovels.com).

Flash: 50-Word Prompts (6 & 7)

This is the second of four postings related to a 50-word Flash Friday, where 12 prompts were given to writers for mini-flashes on a Facebook group. The prompts were words or photos, and the flashes were limited to fifty words.

Today’s flashes are stand-alone flashes based on the photo prompts. Sorry the original photos are no longer available.

The first photo – whoa! I had been struggling to come up with a flash from the pretty photo, so I thought I would concentrate on it by clicking on it and only seeing the photo. …. After a few minutes, when I could think again, I came up with something. The full view went way beyond a man in the clouds.

I admit, I broke the 50-word rule for prompt twelve. I tried to trim the story down, but nothing kept the full feel. And it was the last one of the day – so I decided to plead tired and gave myself permission to “cheat”.

 

PROMPT SIX: Photo of man against blue sky

Title of flash “Optimization of Humanity Serum”

He had often been accused of having his heads in the clouds. Back before … when he had been a nerd. Since inventing Optimization of Humanity Serum and learning to fly he could sleep in the clouds … Maybe he should get a superhero costume. (words 45)

 

PROMPT TWELVE: Photo (?) of naked man in woods

Title of flash “The Ginger Moon”

“Come on guys, not funny!” Derek yelled. The full moon hunt was finished and his clothes were missing.

“Wrong gender, should be singular, and agreed.”

Derek shaded his eyes as the pack’s only alpha female stepped out of the rising sun.

“In case you didn’t notice, I am about to go into heat.” declared Ginger. Pulling the beta close, she whispered, “Tag, you’re it.” (words 64)

(first published 2/8/2013; published in new blog format 2/26/2017)

Flash: The Greatest of All Superpowers – The Mom-Hood

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature (Language)

Tyler liked his cousin DeShawn alright most days; the money had rolled in since he had gotten superpowers and started knocking over banks. But kidnapping Power Fists’ mother? That was fucking serious. Still true ice when DeShawn boosted Power Fists cell phone during a fight and returned it same dust after decrypting and duping it. Serious balls on Black Rod.

 

Being about midway up in Black Rod’s gang, Tyler scored guard duty in the room with the captive. Just not in the middle with the four gang lieutenants. Okay by him. Shadows along the wall suited him fine. He was trusted family and got important shit like picking up the old bitch. Bastards could keep their superpowers; put the idiots on the front lines when Power Fists tripped the trap. Those bros were going to take some bruising before they brought him down.

 

The dork got the phone set up with that freaky six-way speaker mike crap for main-man business rooms. Tyler straightened up, lifting his streetsweeper to bad ass position. The machine gun was set to three bullet bursts to save on ammo, but he was ready to flip it to full auto when the show hit town. He tried to ignore the homeless cart ranch behind him ditzing on his cool. He kicked butt today and was ready for some more.

 

The conference phone was set loud, so Tyler hear it as it began ringing. Black Rod knew how to set a scene. The only strong light was on the center of the derelict store, highlighting the leaders and the bitch. Damn that woman had evil eyes glaring over the duct tape. When the snooze gas had worn off in the van, she had struggled like a cat in a bag, but by the time they got her indoors to the chair for Black Rod she was chill. DeShawn had only zip-lined her wrists in her lap.

 

Tyler’s gut said that was not enough. But the boys got Powers.  It’s all good, he told himself.

 

Someone answered the phone. “Hello, this is Mel.” Everyone snickered quietly.

 

“Hello Mel,” DeShawn’s voice carried throughout the cavernous room. “I can call you Mel, right? This is Black Rod. I have your mother.”

 

“What the fuck?!?”

 

“Really, is that the language you use in front of your mother?” inquired DeShawn smoothly. “Let me put her on.”

 

Bloodband, who had been standing behind the woman, ripped the tape from her mouth. She screamed as bits of her lips came away with it.

 

“Mom! Oh God, Mom, are you okay?”

 

“Melvin, boy, you better come right now!” The gray-haired woman shouted at the phone. “Don’t you go making me rescue myself! I will slap you so hard your dentures will be rattling when you’re seventy!”

 

Fuck, Tyler blinked. No wonder Power Fists was so bad ass.

 

“Mom, it’s okay. I’m coming to get you.”

 

Okay, maybe Power Fists is a pussy.

 

“Damn straight you are.” The hag commanded. “I’ve got an appointment with Tamika in four hours and I better not miss it. These nails don’t do themselves.”

 

“Where are you?” Tyler could hear wind from the speaker now. The superhero was flying.

 

“Locust and Grant – look for a boarded up store with a huge pineapple. Marcus tagged it good.”

 

“What the fuck?!? Put that gag back on!” Black Rod yelled as he slammed the conference off button, destroying the device with his super strength.

 

Bloodband tried to retape her mouth, but the woman twisted sideways. “What? You idiots don’t think I wouldn’t recognize the store?” Strike came at her front to hold her in place for Bloodband and got rewarded with a kick to the balls. “Shopped here for years. Best bargains on meats in the city.” She swung her head back, breaking Bloodband’s nose.

 

The fucker had spent a dime before the Change and picked up two tears; he dropped like a stone.

 

For some reason Power Fists breaking through the ceiling did not scare Tyler half as much as the superhero’s gray-haired mother standing up. Sure her hands were still tied, but the bitch had already eliminated two of the Powered before getting out of the chair. Tyler threw the gun away and crawled to the old grocery cart corral, hoping to hide as the concrete and bullets started to fly.

(Words 716 – first published 1/16/2013; published in new blog format on 1/1/2017)

Flash: There you are

Black Girl with Red Lock

Image Courtesy of imagerymajestic at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

“There you are.”

Turning her head from where it was buried in her hands, Rafaela squinted against the sunlight coming through the storm drain opening, barely making out a head turned sideways looking in. The shimmering lock of dyed red head confirmed who had hunted her down. “Jenna.”

“The one and only.” Her friend carefully stepped into the round opening to walk on the curved inside of the pipeline. “So what is it this time?”

Leaning back from here she had been curled against her knees, the Latino-American waited for her friend to join her. Once Jenna reached where Rafaela sat, she braced her feet against one side of the drain and her back against the other. Her dark hands rested against the concrete surface steading her in the semi-awkward position. For a second her eyes closed and she stroked the concrete. After breathing a sigh of relief, she opened her koi-lined eyes and brought her hands to her knees.

“Just thinking about the case.”

“Oh god, you’re taking it? The guy is as guilty as shit.”

The right side of Rafaela’s mouth turned up and she shrugged.

“Don’t give me that lawyer crap of confidentiality.” Jenna waved both her hands. “You forget, coz, you had me touch the evidence.”

“Bagged evidence.”

“Like my psychometry cares when that level of emotions is involved. The money was his, the gun his, my god his emotions from when he shot the officer were so strong. He hated Officer Galuppi’s guts, personally, not just because he was a cop.”

Rafaela winced at the rush of words and the truth behind them. “But the drugs were not.”

“The guy is a drug dealer.”

“Still the drugs were planted by the cops so they didn’t need a warrant to search his car and that is how they found the gun and blood-coated bribe money. Thank you for seeing that.” Rafaela squeezed her left hand into a fist and released it a few times. “I really wish they hadn’t planted evidence.”

“Nunez would have dump the gun before they had a chance to get a judge’s signature. That bastard has killed before.” Jenna leaned forward and whispered. “I think he’s an ejecutor.” Returning to bracing herself against the curved surface, Jenna slapped her hands against her legs. “How can you defend a criminal?”

Contemplating her left hand, Rafaela squeezed it into a fist and released it a couple more times. “Because it protects the innocent.”

“What?”

“Everyone needs their day in court. It’s how our justice system works.”

Jenna’s hands swept wide. “He’s guilty. Justice is going to jail.”

“In this one particular case, maybe, but not if the whole system is going to work.” Rafaela looked into her friend’s dark eyes. “Only by protecting the rights of each individual are we able to protect the rights of all individuals.”

Shaking her head, Jenna soften her voice. “I never realized you were a social activist.”

“Yeah, well.” Rafaela shrugged and looked deeper into the shadows of the dark side of the drain pipe. After nodding at something that wasn’t there, she stood in the pipe. She hunched much lower than Jenna, being just shy of six foot instead of Jenna’s short five foot two height.

Rolling on her hands and knees to stand, Jenna led the way to the lip of the drainpipe. She tossed her hair to look over her shoulder. “Care to give a girl a lift?”

“Not a problem.” Rafaela reached forward, touching Jenna on the shoulder and then closing her eyes against the bright afternoon sun beating its way into the darken pipe to focus on her task.

Once Rafaela muttered “All done,” Jenna bounced outside of the drainpipe and quickly ran up the steep sides of the concrete channel. “God, I love that!” She continued to bounce in a circle at the top, reaching heights of five and six feet while waiting for Rafaela’s more sedate ascent to the top of the drainage system.

Rolling her black eyes, Rafaela made an adjustment to the gravitational field surrounding Jenna and herself, bending the light, making them effectively invisible. Jenna’s whoops continued to echo throughout the city drainage system.

(words 698 – first published 9/25/2016)