So I just came from seeing Transformers 3. It was a good time. I love war movies. One, America almost always wins, two, they’re full of buff beautiful men shooting guns and throwing themselves head first into danger to save the girl. Three, they’re full of emotion and daring and tears and fear and conquering all that stands in your way.
When you walk out of the theater with your ears ringing and grandiose visions of charging in to save the day in your own personal war torn city called self, you feel light, energized like you’ve been recharged or something. You want to write so badly all you can produce are run on sentences. Your brain’s moving that quickly because you’re inspired, to make changes, to do something different. To write.
I was thinking yesterday over drinks that I have to do more. I have to do more. I mean, there’s only me. Right? There’s only my vision. There’s no one else. No one to rush in and save me. No Optimus Prime to swoop in at the last minute, sword blazing like molten lava to defend my honor. There’s no Bumblebee to catch me write before my dreams hit the ground after a 20 story fall.
It’s weird to say that seeing movies like Transformers 3 – thank you Michael Bay for eschewing stereotypes and actually finding a few hero spots for live Black actors this go round- can inspire me, a romance novelist. But they do. Maybe its the theater, sitting in the dark, transported to a world so exciting it can make you jump around in your seat as though you were there, in the screen, instead of just in front of it.
I don’t think so, though. I think it’s the action, the movement, the never quit, do or die scenarios. The having a goal and taking no prisoners in your efforts to reach that goal. Knowing that the fate of the world, or just the fate of your world rests on your little back…it’s inspiring.
I love stories like that.