Week 12

So I completely spaced last week's entry, my bad.

Anyway, to recap, we met with Carol Lynch Williams before the Thanksgiving break and I have to say that talking to her, though mostly listening, was a blast. The woman is hilarious though she can come off as being very flippant sometimes. She was our last author to visit and I think she wrapped up what I've been hearing all semester very nicely like writing about what moves you and how you make time for the things you love to do. Out of everyone we've heard from, I think I relate most to her writing process. She told us that when she writes, she'll edit as she goes, reading through yesterday's writing before starting for today. I've always been like this when I write which can make for slower going but we can't all be zippy little writers :P I really appreciated her outline for the way she lays out her books with how many chapters are usually allotted to what sections and what needs to be included in each section, at least generally. She told us that our stories should start on a day when everything is different and, oddly enough, I'd never really thought about that before, how most all stories do that. Thinking about that actually helped me figure out where to start my novel which was handy even though I'm rethinking it now. Honestly, I really just enjoyed so much of what she said like how in the middle of your novel, when the writing gets hard and perhaps less interesting, you need to get your character up a tree and throw rocks at them. Also, she mentioned those doors/choices a character makes or is forced into that prevent them from going back to where they were. It's odd because I usually think of those as more physical manifestations but they can also be when your character learns something that changes the way they view other people/the world, etc.

Good stuff to think about and try out :)

So, we're all knee deep into our Individual Projects now and I am so excited to read everyone's stories! Currently mine is misbehaving a little bit but I'll share some of it with you.

"Witch." The word was quiet and yet forceful, its speaker indistinguishable from the crowd but soon they were all chanting it.

"Witch. Witch. Witch." The word hissed across the ground and around my ankles, seeping into my clothes until its weight almost dragged me down. The corset I was wearing was quickly becoming too tight. I cursed the day I had become preoccupied with town-side fashion.

"Yes," Blaines whispered, his voice anything but kind, "a witch. And what do we do with witches?"

The shout was deafening after the hushed whispers.

"Burn them!"

As one, they stepped forward but I slammed the door shut and flung the bolt across it before they could take another.

Week 11

I love workshop days, can I just say that? There is nothing quite like getting that feedback, the negative as well as the positive. When I feel stuck in a certain area or something, work-shopping is just the thing to help me out. Not to mention is absolutely awesome to read what everyone else is writing. The whole thing is very exciting. I especially love being able to identify certain people by their writing now, having gone through the semester with them. It's cool to recognize literary footprints.

For my final project thingy I'm looking to write 2 to 3 chapters of a YA novel. I have a story in mind, now we'll see if it feels like cooperating, if not behaving.

This is going to be a brief entry today so I'm skipping right to a bit of my recent writing.

"I'll be there in a minute." I waved Julia on as I slipped into the bathroom. The door clattered shut behind me. The springs must be wound too tight or something.

I blinked to adjust to the dim light of the room. Why is it that bathrooms are either too dim or too bright? This one gave me the feeling of being underwater with the blue green tiles and paint just barely illuminated by the bulbs above me. The white sinks stood out like a row of seashells.

Scanning the row of five stalls I noticed that there was only one other person here, occupying the third stall.

I counted back in my head. It was Thursday. I'd used this bathroom twice this week. That meant today was the third stall. Of course it would be. I huffed and leaned against the wall to wait.

I was going to be late for class. Again. But I knew better than to just use one of the four open stalls. This girl was going to think I was crazy for waiting when there were so many open but it didn't matter. If I just used one of the others I'd be back in here in five minutes if Mrs. Kelsy would give me a bathroom pass. Then I'd have to explain my double trip to Julia.

I pulled out my notebook and flipped through it, looking over the homework that was already piling up for tonight.

I heard the flush and then the running of the tap. I nodded absently as the girl passed me and the door clattered again. She was wearing shiny new sneakers with sequins. Not really my style, but to each their own I suppose.

Week 10

Is it just me or have we officially hit that point in the semester when everyone's brains just kind of explode? I know mine has and, judging by the kinds of questions we've been getting at our desk in the library, I'd say this has happened to several other people at least.

Thanksgiving can't come soon enough.

I ripped through Princess Academy in the last few days [I adore Shannon Hale] and I just picked up The Screwtape Letters this afternoon. I've never read it before and I'm excited to get into it. My biggest question right now: why is his name Screwtape? Wormwood I understand as with many of the other names that have already come up but Screwtape? Seriously, what kind of demon is that? I'm assuming that it is my symbolic knowledge that is lacking here because I would never insult C.S. Lewis, though I am intrigued at the dedication made to JRR Tolkien at the beginning of this edition.

Okay, today's writing excerpt is from the big YA idea rumbling around my skull right now. It only ever comes in bits and pieces and never in an specific order but I'm working on that. In the mean time, please feel free to let me know if you think this works or not. I can take it!

Time had such little meaning here and I had nothing to mark it with even if I had wanted to. I never knew if the glimpses of the forest that I saw were given to me in my own time or if I was witness to another plane where a world experienced the seasons out of order. Though, it was more likely that the one out of order was me.

I watched the trees for a long time, trying to assess what time of year it was out there where lives were normal and being lived. October? No, November. Though many of the trees were still clothed in rich colors, others had shed their leaves entirely and I watched in pained wonder as yet another tree released a storm of leaves, a cloud of swirling color caught up by a breeze before settling upon the forest floor.

I missed autumn. Walking through the trees under falling leaves had always been a treat each year. I couldn't tell if the magic was being kind or cruel in giving me this site of the season I loved the most but would always be ever only on the brink of here in eternal summer.

I heard myself sigh, a great rushing, rumbling, and heart-wrenched sound very unlike the dainty, staged, little sighs that I had exuded in another life.

Week 9

And I'm late! Ah! What's happening to me?!

I'm going crazy that's what. Completely bonkers.

Oh well.

Lately I have been struggling with writing [okay, life in general], just not having any motivation and making it easier for myself to not make time for it but it's always there at the back of my head. Hopefully I'll be able to pull it back into habit territory soon.

For my YA novel I read The Host by Stephanie Meyer. For those of you who haven't read it, hold your horses. I've heard all there is to complain about in regards to the Twilight series and let me tell you that her writing has much improved with this book. I've probably read it at least 5 times and it brings me to tears each time [in a good way]. I'm not generally way into scifi which is where she treads here but I love this story, its originality and complexity. Her character development isn't even comparable to the Twilight books because you actually come to care for the characters in The Host though I will admit that [for some strange, personal mental reason] I mispronounced the main characters name for the longest time [and I still do because I've decided I like it better than the common pronunciation].

Okay, can I rant to you guys for a minute? So I'm a psychology major, hence my advanced writing credit is Writing Within Psychology this semester which is all about academic writing which I positively abhor. Getting through class has been hard enough due to my dislike of the writing style but last week it got worse in an unimaginable way. My TA was teaching the class and we were talking about Journalese and how the quality of writing in popular magazines like People has gone down the tube. Valid argument, yes? Suddenly, he decided to sidetrack and offend me in the biggest way imaginable [I assume it was just me because none of my classmates objected to the following. some even, horrifically, agreed with him]. He said "So let's talk about Harry Potter for a minute. Aside from what it may have done/be doing for young kids learning to read, etc., it's awful writing. It's just bad writing." I swear, if I had been fortuitously holding something heavy in my hand at that moment I would have thrown it in the general direction of his skull [because let's admit it, I have no aim]. I just couldn't believe he had said that! But then he continued with "I mean, if I were to re-write it I would do it completely differently." And guess what monsieur TA? NO ONE WOULD HAVE READ IT. Can I please get an "AMEN" to this? I may get ridiculously enraged when I think about this, but I know I'm not crazy.

[steps outside to take a little breather]

I'm going to move on to a very short snippet of my sad writing journal. As always, I tend more toward introspection that actually writing...I need to work on that.

Who would we be without mirrors, if we never saw ourselves? Our judgement of others would potentially stand but how would we think of ourselves? Was it our ability to see others' appearances that first drove us to seek out and make reflective surfaces in which to examine, and then preen ourselves? How would we, and our world, be different without them?

Week 8, YA and Ally Condie

Ah, YA, we meet at last. Yes, the culminating genre has arrived at last. I'm rather excited about work-shopping this section, though not for my own pieces of course, haha.

Anyway, last week we had the extreme pleasure of meeting with Ally Condie, author of the series Matched. Perhaps I was most excited about this because I actually, for once, knew who the visiting author was. I picked up Matched about a year or so ago and have eagerly awaited the subsequent volumes ever since. I'm a big distopia fan as we saw last week, you can generally get me to read almost anything in that genre without much cajoling.

Let me just say though, that Ally Condie is amazing. I felt like a little kid seeing her come in the room and listening to her, sitting in my seat like an adoring little fan, awed that she would descend to speak to us. Don't get me wrong, I've loved being present for all the other author visits and I have learned from each of them. The thing about Ally though [is it okay if I just call her Ally?] is that, somehow, she just seemed more real, more relate-able. We've hypothesized about why this is as a class. Perhaps because she is closer to us in age than the other authors have been, perhaps because she doesn't put on a presentation for audiences at this point in her career. I'm not sure we could ever really pin it down but there was just something that made me so eager to listen and left me feeling so empowered to write. Her history with writing made the whole process sound more possible and doable than it ever had before.

My absolute favorite piece of advice that she gave was that when you write, you should write to write the book or poem or article that you're thinking of. Don't write with publication in mind because that can be enough stress and pressure to crush any perfectly awesome story you might have to tell. I'm not sure why, but this kind of blew my mind. Each author we've talked to so far has mentioned bad first drafts, the idea that it's okay to write badly the first and even second times around, everyone [with very very few exceptions] does it and that's what revisions are for. I understood this and it has been a relief to realize the truth of that. Ally echoed this sentiment as well but the advice she tacked on somehow made the picture more complete for me. I can't say that I've become a writing fiend since then but I am much more optimistic about my ideas and projects now.

Okay, so when I last posted I was reading When We Were Friends. I have since finished the book and I'm not entirely sure what to think. I liked it, that much is true. Good writing for me is most easily evident when my emotions begin to echo those of the characters I'm reading about. The thing I'm not sure on is how I feel about the way things played out. The plot is such that a moral and ethical dilemma is placed before the main character and the reader alike and you may discover that you would not have chosen the same way or that you do not, in fact, know what you would do in such a situation and it's such an intense one that not knowing makes you somewhat uncomfortable. It makes you unable to pass judgement on the character or yourself really and I don't know too many people that really enjoy uncertainty. I would recommend the read if you're up for something intense :)

I was reading recently in Bird by Bird, a chapter about "looking around." Lamott talks about observing the world around you, especially trying it through the eyes of a child where everything is a wonder. She mentions how important it is to observe things and people around you, to really get a respect for those parts of life that you're trying to capture. You have to know yourself before you can explore someone else. My interest was especially peaked because she talks about nature and our surroundings the same way we often do in church, about being able to see the love of God in everything, even a plate of fish and rice. Especially on days like today with the beautiful fall colors and sunlight on the mountains, I resonate with that.

She talks about how we have to train our minds to see ourselves with that same love and respect that we almost naturally give others. She relates this training to potty training a puppy. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of reading this section I will quote it: "Try looking at your mind as a wayward puppy that you are trying to paper train. You don't drop-kick a puppy into your neighbor's yard every time it piddles on the floor. You just keep bringing it back to the newspaper. So I keep trying gently to bring my mind back to what is really there to be seen, maybe to be seen and noted with a kind of reverence."

Sometimes we forget or ignore the fact that our minds can be trained, we are not doomed to think and see as we have thus far thought and seen. I know I for one could do much better at being observant and not having my eyes on the ground all the time. Lamott has a delightful sentiment about this self-absorption as well: "To be engrossed by something outside ourselves is a powerful antidote for the rational mind, the mind that so frequently has its head up its own [rear] -- seeing things in such a narrow and darkly narcissistic way that it presents a colo-rectal theology, offering hope to no one."

Words of wisdom with an awesome dose of humor :)

Okay okay, on to what I've written recently. This is a segment that I think I might use in my YA short story because it's really the first thing I've written that I think has the voice of one of my characters down pretty solidly.

Does anyone ever really end up where they think they will after high school? Everyone lists in the yearbook what they're going to do with their lives, who they're going to be. Isn't that like repeating the question every kid gets asked? "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

The only difference being that there are fewer princesses and vets in a group of eighteen year-olds.

It's a stupid question to begin with. I mean, when you're little it's kind of cute to hear the kids that want to be firefighters or bus drivers but it's down-right idiotic to ask teenagers. We're not that cute anymore and besides, why are people asking us what we want to be when we don't even know who we are?

Week 7

Ah! I'm late! Good heavens, that's bad news right there. Anyway...

As the semester has rolled forth I have grown increasingly short on time for reading so this last week was restricted basically to books assigned for class (non-fiction and historical fiction) and the Middle Grade novel I read to report on (The Giver). I discovered, shockingly, that there are people that have never actually read The Giver or [as I found today] A Wrinkle in Time. Now, I understand not everyone has the same taste in books but there really are just some works of literature that everyone should read, these being two of them.

It was very useful to me to re-read The Giver in the context of our Middle Grade unit because I had more of an idea what things I should look for in determining if/why a book is "good." I generally have a hard time identifying specific aspects that makes for good writing so this practice was very beneficial.

I am currently reading When We Were Friends by Elizabeth Joy Arnold which is much more general fiction than YA but I'm more aware as I read of the character developments, the voice that is present in the story. I should dabble more in YA to get my head in the right spot probably but it's a great feeling to see this other layer of writing, no matter what I'm reading.

To preface my personal writing segment, I've been running into trouble when it comes to putting myself into the mindset I would have been in when I first began venturing into YA literature. Mostly because I have a habitually awful and spotty memory but also because I've never considered myself a very interesting specimen, finding it much easier to relate the stories and adventures of those I associated with during those years. Below is the most interesting thing I could remember happening to me in high school. Yes, it depresses me too. lol

Personal Writing!

The one thing I really got out of high school was a highly, possibly even over-developed, sense of justice and fairness which proved out in my most vocal outbursts, usually on the behalf of others [whether they wanted it or not]. My only detention in my public education career occurred one day in my junior year of high school when the brand new choir director was subbing for the band teacher. About a quarter of the way through class, I was excused for insubordination when I commented on how harsh and nit-picky she was being about a piece we had never played before that day. In an odd way, this one event showed me that, if I so desired, I had the power to start things because after I was ceremoniously dismissed to the shocked whispers of my classmates who knew all too well that I never got yelled at, let alone sent to detention, I was joined in first the principal's office and then the detention room but two of my classmates who had apparently spoken up in my defense and to affirm what I'd been saying upon dismissal.

Week 6

Middle grade story workshop. Dun dun dun. One positive about not being totally happy with the draft you put up for work-shopping is you get some absolutely amazing feedback :) I'm excited to revise the living daylights out of this puppy!

Let's see, this week I have read my way through two middle grade books: The Chosen One by Carol Lynch and Everything is Fine by our very own Ann Dee Ellis.

The first, I found to be deeply emotional and near-rage inducing, also vomit. Not really, but close. I mean, the young girls are saved for the old men? Don't be fooled by its length and intended audience, this book is plenty disturbing in its own horrific right. But in a good way! Haha :P I can't imagine what it must be like to write books like this, from a character's POV that you've never experienced and on such heavy topics that one might think therapy for depression would have to be done parallel to the writing process. Despite the obviously alien situation, I found it was easy to relate to and care about Kyra. Her attitudes and ideas were believable for someone with such restrictions on them [being nearly only 14 and being part of a sheltered polygamous group]. Lynch's writing style in this book worked as commonly known prose as well as the stop and go format of a thought process without breaking the flow of the writing as a whole. Everything just fit.

The second, I found to be a refreshing surprise in style and content [if anyone else has read this you'll understand how that sentiment can be found somewhat disturbing]. Everything is Fine also deals with a heavy topic through the eyes of a budding teen and, unlike The Chosen One, the tragedy that lies behind Mazzy's current situation isn't obvious at first, being revealed piece by piece as I have seen done in other stories. However, despite the clues that were dropped along the way, the important revelation of the whole story blew me away. The bare bones of the situation I knew, but the details were what really popped then. It's books like these where one read demands another because once you know the back story, then a second read adds a completely new level to the initial scenes we read before. Also, I admire Ellis for the ending. While the romantic in me cries out for happily ever afters all the time, I do enjoy, and appreciate, those stories that have closure but also leave room for the characters to live on, even if it's just in our imaginations. Mazzy has more problems ahead of her, but hopefully she and her family will have a healthier head-start, and future, now :)

For an odd aside: I just realized today that when I am rushing to get down a particular scene or bit of dialogue or character description that has formed in my head, I hold my breath. Does this happen to anyone else? Does anyone have any other odd writing ticks, per se?

Okay, personal writing time. Prepare to potentially feel awkward or embarrassed [for me]. As we've seen in class, my style generally doesn't lend itself to humor so we'll see how this goes over. [keep in mind this is meant to be humorous ><]

Do you ever have times when you are acutely aware of the people around you? You know, like those scenes in movies when the character walks into a room and everything's kind of slow-motion all of a sudden and they see everything turning to stare at them even though, outside of their head, no one actually is?

I think a lot of people maybe feel this paranoia of sorts when they are in large, pressing crowds and that man's elbow is RIGHT THERE or if they ever walk into a room when there's a silence or they're late and the teacher is giving them THAT look and someone is snickering.

Well, I have many times when I can say I feel this hyper-awareness but the one reoccurring place/situation is in public bathrooms. The public bathroom is an interesting phenomena. Never, I dare challenge, has there ever been a place that combines unspoken bodily functions that we strive to hid from the world with the competition and peacock-ing that our society is so soaked in. It is both a place of embarrassment and performance.

"Stage fright" is one of the most commonly cited issues in public restrooms, the fear of being identified in your little stall by the stranger 3 stalls down that's not even paying attention to the stranger 3 stalls down from them [you] and whom you'll never see again.

This, in turn, raises the interesting female paradox that requires women to travel to the bathroom in groups and then to studiously ignore each other upon arrival. Because nothing is more awkward for everyone involved than the stall-to-stall conversation.

Tangents aside, for me, the sink situation is killer. I often find myself timing my sink arrival in an attempt to arrive at a slightly different time that the girl 2 doors down that flushed at the same time. And actually washing your hands? Forget being judged by the shoes you're wearing or even the state of your hair!

Wash too long and people may wonder what you're up to [does she have OCD? poor dear] or what you were up to.

Wash too quick and you get the "please don't touch me when you pass because you totally still have germs on your hands" look.

The worst, of course, is the crowded sink approach. You know the one. Let's say there are 3 sinks, only one is open. Now you have to decide. Do you wash at your normal speed and time and if you finish before the girls that got there before you, so be it? Or do you wash as long as they do and end at the same time as them? Or do you wash until a while after they have finished so as not to seem suspect of timing your washing with them?

This may be your only impression on these strangers you'll never see again. You should probably think about it. I do.

Week 5

Well well, how much can happen in a week! I'm sitting at my kitchen table right now, pillow behind my back for support to ease an ache that I like to think came from sitting hunched over my writing pad so much this weekend, but who knows?

It's amazing how fast you can read when you're under pressure. I had, as previously mentioned, checked out a large number of books from the library recently and found last week, to my dismay, that I had three days to finish over 200 pages if I hoped to read it all before turning it in. Normally, this wouldn't distress me quite so much but this task required potentially taking time out of my homework and study time for the two tests I had coming up. Well, if nothing else, college teaches you to be resourceful, doesn't it? So, with a little determination and probably quite a few odd looks, I traversed campus for three days with my nose completely immersed in the novel, finishing it just as I walked into the library for work on the morning of the day it was due.

Happiness is not having to turn a book in without finishing it.

The novel I was reading was Clockwork Angel by Cassandra Clare, a fantasy novel set in London somewhere in the 19th century. Now, after Twilight, I haven't been one for books like this so much mostly because I can be such a skeptic. That aside, I did manage to enjoy the book once I pushed myself through the somewhat uninteresting opening. As a YA book, its complexity is more developed that a middle grade story would be and it was something of a challenge for me to read YA and try to write MG at the same time, esp when my natural inclination is toward illustrative writing which is more prevalent in YA.

Class today was really interesting and helpful for me even though my MG story wasn't being work-shopped. It's amazing to me how much you can learn about character voice, strength, and consistency when discussing other's stories. Really, I'm grateful my classmates are willing to humor what I bet are opinionated and overly-vocal opinions and suggestions. Talking things out definitely helps to establish ideas and guidelines in my head.

I am excited because I only have about four pages left in my writing pad that I started using at the beginning of the semester which of course means I need to start using another one. There's just something so exciting about new notebooks and paper :)

Writing corner time! I'm not entirely satisfied with this, but considering it's a rough-rough draft I suppose that's alright, expected even.

A chair squeaked.

Startled, Ben looked up from the music he'd been so immersed in. He saw Lucy, awkwardly sitting halfway in one of the chairs towards the back of the room.

"What are you doing here?" It was probably the rudest thing Ben had ever said to anyone but he was so surprised to find that someone had intruded on the one place he considered to be his that it just slipped out.

"I'm sorry," Lucy said, barely loud enough for him to hear, her face flushing, "I didn't mean to bother you, I just got tired of standing," she gestured at the wall by the door, then began to speak very rapidly, "Mrs. Larson just asked me to tell you free time would be over in fifteen minutes because she thought you might forget, it being the first free day since before Christmas. But then I came in and heard you playing and it sounded so nice so I stayed to listen. I'm sorry, I'll go." She stood up and turned to leave.

"Wait," Ben called across the room and Lucy turned around uncertainly, "I'm sorry for what I said Lucy, it was rude."

Lucy shrugged her shoulders, "You wanted to be alone."

"You liked what I was playing?" Again, the question just escaped, though more from cautious curiosity than from surprise. Ben had never played for anyone before, never had anyone hear him plinking music out note by note.

Week 4

I can't believe we're already about a quarter of the way through the semester. It's absolute madness.

Well, I've just begun to sink my teeth into Clockwork Angel which is good and unfortunate at the same time as the library website isn't letting me renew it and it's due on the 30th... Ah!

I'm always in awe of science fiction and those that create fantastical worlds or worlds within or along our own. As much imagination as I think I have, I'm not sure I'd have something that amazing in me. So I am content to partake as a consumer in this genre :)

We read the short story "Dawn" by Tim Wynne-Jones for class and I was floored. Short stories can be iffy for me because I feel like they can be rather abstract sometimes. "Dawn" wasn't very up front but it was still incredibly deep in my mind. I can't even find adequate language to describe my reaction to it past having my mind blown so I recommend you read it for yourself and see what you think. It's when I read pieces like this that I have to make sure I keep my perspective because it can be easy to feel utterly dwarfed by writing and talent like this. But hey, as Anne Lamott [Bird by Bird] quotes from Natalie Goldberg [Writing Down the Bones], the best way to improve your writing is to write. More proof that there is truth in simplicity. :)

If we had had class today I would have liked to bring The Folk Keeper by Franny Billingsley. I can't remember the first time I read this book but I know I've read it since then so many times that I can't count them. I am worthless when it comes to summaries so here's one from a Google search:

Corinna is a Folk Keeper. Her job is to keep the mysterious Folk who live beneath the ground at bay. But Corinna has a secret that even she doesn't fully comprehend, until she agrees to serve as Folk Keeper at Marblehaugh Park, a wealthy family's seaside manor. There her hidden powers burst into full force, and Corinna's life changes forever..

I can't say it any better without spoiling it, but I think I can safely say it's unlike anything else you've ever read. And if it is, let me know, I'd like to read those books too :)

The biggest thing that draws most people to books is being able to form an attachment to the main character. Now, I can't say that I have too much in common with Corinna but her strength of will and cutting mannerisms frame a vulnerability that I help but admire and care about. The art of developing a character is something I'm still working on but I believe Billingsley really created a life in this book.

So I've been spending a lot of my time on possible character developments which means that what I'm sharing today is more of a theoretical musing but hey, I think most of my writing is, haha.

Countless people have voiced the idea that college is where you find yourself. It's where you become and adult and make lifelong friendships and find out who you really are.

I myself have said this very thing at least once because it's true that while you're studiously learning about statistics, physics, literature, music, and llamas [yes, llamas] you are simultaneously and, generally, subconsciously studying the subject of you.

High school is the survival test. college tests your identity out of its nooks and crannies now that it's apparently that you will live.

My question is: when does the finding stop? Do you ever manage to find all of yourself? And once you've found a part of yourself, does it stay found or are you perpetually chasing yourself, just with a better idea of where to look from then on?

And what about people who never go to college? According to this idea, do they never even begin to find themselves? Do those who drop out only find part of themselves and the rest is left in a dusty storage box in the back rooms of the Lost and Found, never to be retrieved?

Does every graduate student in fact create 2 thesis, one of academic study and the other of self?

Considering one needs a PhD to teach at college, do professors, with a presumably greater understanding of self, teach students the art of finding oneself as well as the art of the Baroque period and other subjects?

Week 3

Today's post includes Picture Book reports! Yay!
Assigned to read 10 picture books and analyze them, I headed to the Provo Library and found these gems:

Piggy Pie Po by Audrey and Don Wood

Summary - This is a book about what Piggy likes to do, his accomplishments and his mischief as a young pig.

Analysis - The book rhymes but the rhythm was inconsistent and pulled me out of the story. Also, it may have just been more simple than I was expecting but there was no conflict and therefore, for me, little interest.

Ghosts For Breakfast by Stanley Todd Terasaki

Summary - Neighbors come to the door with a tale of a ghost encounter. The father takes his son to inspect these ghosts and they find out it was just a bunch of vegetables that had been hung out to dry.

Analysis - There is a bit of the rule of three here [three neighbors] but not consistently presented or ordered. It's not as generically relate-able as most ghost stories might seem because it's pretty heavy on the Japanese culture like the names they play on as well as the vegetables themselves. Things that many children would not recognize.

The Great Montefiasco by Colin Thompson

Summary - Montefiasco is a magician whose tricks all go wrong. People think he's hilarious but he wants to be taken seriously as a magician, not a comedian. After considering other options, he is persuaded to put up an assistant wanted add in the hope that one may improve his act. She doesn't. However, the two do fall in love and live happily ever after.

Analysis - I thought this was an intriguing idea with a fresh perspective on the theme of coming to terms with yourself and realizing that it's not so bad even if it's not what you envisioned. The MC doesn't really solve his own problem though because this lesson is taught to him by his assistant. Also, I felt the problems were solved disjointedly and in a hurried, unexplained manner towards the end of the book after the big build up. The illustrations were...interesting. I'm not sure if they added or detracted from the story.

The Secret Science Project That Almost Ate the School - by Judy Sierra

Summary - A girl needs a great science project to compete with her classmates'. She orders one online and when it arrives, ignores the instructions. Chaos and the consumption of family, friends, and even the teacher ensues. The girl remembers the directions in the nick of time and gets rid of the monster. She still has to clean up the mess left behind though.

Analysis - The book rhymed in a comfortable and fun way with the word choices. I enjoyed the story line as well as the conclusion and felt that it wasn't too preachy in having her clean up afterward.

Caps For Sale by Esphyr Slobodkina

Summary - A peddler has his caps stolen by monkeys while he naps. He tries all her can to get them back and eventually does so on accident.

Analysis - There is the use of repetition in the peddler's attempts to regain his caps. He does solve his own problem, if accidentally. The monkeys are an unexpected twist and what makes the story fun - kids love this idea of "monkey-see, monkey-do." The illustrations are simple and bright and fun to look at.

Those Darn Squirrels by Adam Rubin

Summary - An old lonely man tries to keep his one joy, birds, from flying south for the winter. Squirrels ruin all his plans and then the bids fly south anyway. The squirrels try to make the man happy again. In the end, he likes squirrels as well as birds and isn't so lonely anymore.

Analysis - There is a lot of repetition throughout the story. The funny subject and resolution make it an entertaining read though I had a hard time distinguishing who was supposed to be the MC, the old man or the squirrels.

Silvia and Bird by Catherine Rayner

Summary - A lonely dragon makes unexpected friends with a bird but she still feels left out because she's a dragon, not a bird. She decides to see if there are other dragons on the moon and the bird says it will go with her but it can't fly that high and the dragon has to rescue it. The dragon realizes she doesn't need to be with other dragons to be happy.

Analysis - The conflict here was too quickly and too simply solved for my taste. A case of enjoying the illustrations enough to pick it up and then being disappointed by the story itself.

Flora's Very Windy Day by Jeanne Birdsall

Summary - Flora thinks her little brother is a nuisance and decides to let the wind carry him away but she goes after him. The wind tries to find places for the brother to get left at but Flora declines all of them because she deems her brother not enough of something or unable to fill the positions suggested. She decides to bring him home after all.

Analysis - I loved the illustrations for this book. Absolutely delightful and, in my opinion, perfectly matched with the story. The MC solves her own problem [conflict with the brother and how she feels about him] through a series of events that give nice repetition and rhythm to the story.

Saying Goodbye to Lulu by Corinne Demas

Summary - A young girl dealing with the upcoming and then past loss of a beloved dog.

Analysis - There is a good deal of repetition in phrasing and scene order/presentation that gives a nice regularity to the structure. The topic isn't a very general one but it does a good job of portraying how such a loss can affect someone for a while, especially how the grieving process can be hard/different for children.

Iggy Peck Architect by Andrea Beaty

Summary - Iggy has had a passion for architecture since the age of 2. His teacher had a traumatic childhood experience that resulted in a hatred of buildings and architecture. She forbids Iggy to build anything in class. Disaster strikes on a class picnic and Iggy saves the day, enlightening his teacher to the virtues of architecture.

Analysis - The book rhymed which worked at times and not at others. There were clever end rhymes that fit but the internal rhymes were most often a stretch and didn't flow. Also, the rhythm would get comfortable and then be off track and then repeat the cycle. The MC solved several conflicts, the disaster as well as his teacher's dislike of architecture. Iggy is an industrious little boy!

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Author Visit

We had the pleasure of listening to Dean Hughes today on the virtues of brainstorming, character development, and outlining in the writing process. The development of plot and a sequence of events that actually made sense if something that I've struggled with and am currently struggling with so his advice was well timed indeed and I plan to attempt it in my own writing process.

What have I read?

Too many picture books to count, haha. Mostly all good though. It has been fun to go back to childhood and realize why I liked the books I liked.

I'm still keeping on with the Merlin series [just picked up the last one today!] and I've liked Merlin more and more as I watch him grow and learn about himself as well as the skills he's developing.

I also read Missing in Action by Dean Hughes in preparation for class today. I generally don't enjoy reading middle grade material as much as older or younger geared books but I really enjoyed this. It was fairly simple as the writing and plot went but the idea was intriguing as well as the various conflicts associated with it. Also, I was just excited about the setting because my fiance is from Delta, UT and now everyone in class will have heard of it! Haha

A quick blip of my own writing

I've gone through a couple rough patches lately but in the last day or so I've taken off again and I'm excited to see where I go.

The entire space was laced so deeply with magic that the air hummed with it, its power tangible as it brushed my arms in passing like a gentle breeze.

But the beauty of it was not for my eyes, as everything I saw reminded me of the aching absence of the powers I had once wielded. I knew that the spacious and furnished mansion and the plentiful gardens of the estate would only serve as permanent reminders of the hole that had lodged in my chest.

I realized that I was cursed to live without magic of my own, instead subject to and dependent entirely upon the magic of this place. Magic that I could instruct but which most definitely had a will and mind of its own.

Week 2

Hello again! We've been working on our picture books this week which has been a bit of an exercise for me as my writing tends to go on and on and such practices are not conducive to writing picture books that will actually be read. Anyway, it's been an adventure and I've loved seeing the wonderful stories my classmates have created and been pleasantly surprised that some even seemed to like mine! Haha.

What have I been reading since last week?

Well, I have, of course, been continuing the Merlin series as there are 5 books in all. I am just starting the 4th [the 3rd was one of my favorites so far, Merlin is less obnoxious and there are dragons!].

I also managed to squeeze in a sort of cursory reading of The Yellow Wallpaper in the last few days. I say cursory because I didn't have time to sit down and really analyze it but, having never read it before, I consider this a step in the correct direction.

What have I learned?

Writing about the process of going insane from the afflicted person's point of view would be a fascinating endeavor. As quickly as I read it, I can't claim to have really delved into the various intricacies of this piece but I enjoyed it, largely, from a psychological standpoint - the idea of almost reconstructing the path one follows down to madness and how their perceptions of the world and its inhabitants change along the way.

Also, I'm always up for an overbearing male figure who thinks they know what they're doing much better than their female counterpart and in their obnoxious know-it-all way, cause the protagonist to worsen.

I am also reminded of the sad lack of the elaborate vacation due to illness that our culture has been experiencing ever since departing from mother England. I would much rather receive a prescription to go lolling about on the beach for a few weeks than to swallow nasty tasting pills that have altogether alarmingly questionable effects.

All in all, as much as I love fiction and a taste of fantasy, it can be rather refreshing as a reader and a writer to dabble in something different. Whether or not you decide to pursue that track doesn't really matter because it can be a wonderful stretch of talent whatever you decide to do from there.

What's next on the reading list?

The Mirror of Merlin

Clockwork Angel

Bird By Bird

Missing in Action and Nutty the Movie Star [both by Dean Hughes who's visiting next Tuesday]

When We Were Friends

Everything is Fine [by our very own Ann Ellis which I nabbed at Borders a week or two ago]

2 picture book versions of Beauty and the Beast

10 assorted picture books

Basically, I was reveling in the absolute book-wormy-ness of walking out of the library with an arm-load of books this afternoon. With all my other commitments to school, etc, these will probably take me a while to get through but I accept the challenge. I'm going to see just how much of a voracious reader I can be this semester without completely sacrificing my school work and sleep.

The moment you've all been waiting for

Or not, that's my response anyway, haha. Yes yes, personal writing time! I unfortunately discovered that my favorite journal writing for this week is just as, if not more, depressing than the selection I made last week. I apologize and promise that happier things should surface soon.

On a bright note, this might actually work into something I'm dabbling with.

I'm calling this piece "Perhaps."

I found myself questioning my own existence. Was I really there? Can a shadow-less being be considered real? Because, even as my body cast shadows when a rare ray of sun or moon ventured down to alight on my solitude, ones self does not cast shade on the ground.

I doubt this would mean that ones self never exists, but the trouble with a shadow-less self is knowing when it's left you. If there is no absence of visual footprints to use as an indicator, how do you know at all if your self is still with you? And if it isn't, how would you know the moment you lost it?

Or how to get it back.

Yes, my husk of a body still breathed, but the empty ache that I had begun to notice in my chest made me wonder where I went.

Disembodiment is not, I've learned, a feeling only for the dying. Every day left me feeling more and more a living wraith, cursed to wander this mountain - to see the lives of others but never to take part as I once had.

But then there's another trouble. How was I to say if I was not dying or not? Perhaps I was.

Perhaps the most painful death is not the physically torturous or struggle-strewn one. Perhaps death of the worst kind is the slow, apathetic deterioration of a soul deprived of a life they proved unfit to live.

Perhaps the worst agony is really the absence thereof, the absence of any feeling at all except, perhaps, a vague sense of fear and bitter regret dulled by the absence of your own self, too disgusted to stick around even out of principle.

Week 1 and Q&A with Rick Walton

Snaps for the first official journal post of the semester! And yes, I promise I will never use the term "snaps" again.

What have I read?
This last week I finished the first book in The Lost Years of Merlin series, one that my fiance has been regaling me with tales of ever since we discovered we have similar taste in books. It took me a while to get around to it but I definitely glad I did. These books aren't challenging reads but that never diminishes the experience for me.

What have I learned?
One of my favorite things about this series, right off the bat, was the topic T.A. Barron seized upon. I am personally very interested in re-written fairy-tales so The Lost Years of Merlin is pretty well up my alley. I go back and forth on whether it is harder to create an entirely new world/space or to write creatively within an already defined and somewhat destined space as T.A. Barron has. I'm not sure there's a right answer to that particular question though I do feel like there are right and wrong ways to go about both. In my opinion, Barron has, thus far, done an enchanting job. I'm excited to read the rest of the series!
In reading the first book of this series I was reminded of a fact that I stumble upon on occasion. For a book to be good, in my mind at least, the main character does not have to be lovable 100% of the time. As a writer, this is something I can feel myself grappling with in the same way I would grapple with playing a character that I don't like or agree with in a drama class. I want to enjoy my characters and appreciate them and that's understandably difficult to do sometimes. I have noticed that there are a lot of paradoxes in good writing. We love stories that give us characters that are real or relate-able or dynamic. Oddly, the thing that generally makes all these characters so good is that they aren't terribly likable all the time. They go through struggles and times when they are whiny or egotistical or stubborn or ignorant or just plane stupid. Times when you almost get so sick of them acting that way that you contemplate putting the book down. Or throwing it through a wall. I know that at the end of the 5th Harry Potter book I would certainly have been happy to have the series end in both Voldemort's and Harry's death, he was so mule-headed and self-centered.
I guess, to make an absurdly long paragraph short, I have learned that sometimes, the most interesting topic areas one can address are the holes in our favorite stories and legends. Such explorations take research and a special kind of consideration because your ending, in this case especially, is already well established, but can be very rewarding. I also plan to work, in my own writing, on developing characters that are real and sometimes unlikeable.

As a small aside, as part of the Picture Book portion of the semester I had the privilege of spending an hour and a half in a Q&A type session with Rick Walton. [Don't worry, I didn't know who he was until a week ago] Rick Walton is known, for our purposes though not limited as such, as an author of picture books. Lots of them. His enthusiasm for humor and word play are evident in his books which makes them a pleasure to read. It was awesome to hear his perspectives and advice on writing and the process of getting published. The man knows his way around and he had great words of wisdom to share with all of us budding authors. Some of them were things we'd discussed in class with some common sense mixed in. Others, though, were completely enlightening [at least they were for me!] without being discouraging [something I've decided can be harder to do than it sounds].
I am definitely looking forward to the other author visits that we'll be having throughout the semester.

Now for some of my own writing.
This "piece," if I dare call it that, is an excerpt from my writing journal [as all posted pieces will be]. I'm still getting a feel for what should go up here but for now I'm selecting the one that I like the most, even though it's more intense than I think I planned on beginning with.

What if you're whole life you've been a lie? Not that your life has been a lie [except by extension], but you have been a lie.

What if you answered "yes" to all their questions because that's what you knew they wanted and expected? You didn't mean to lie of course. You wanted to mean it. You still want to. You just wanted to make them happy, proud, more than you wanted to be sure you meant it first.

What if your motto was "fake it till you make it?" All in all, not a bad suggestion. But what if, after all those years, you realized that maybe you were simply faking it and never making it?

What if you became that lie without meaning to and now it's the skin you wear, the air you breath, the smile on your face, the dreams you dream and, of course, the clothes you wear?

What if you become so much the lie that you don't know if there was ever any truth in you, that you are anything but this paper skeleton?

How do you find truth again? How do you find truth in yourself again, if ever it was there, when all you expect from yourself is lies? How do you recognize it if you stumble across a piece of truth, of your real self?

And how do you keep from despairing that the lie is all you've ever really been and all you're ever going to be?

What would truth ever want with a creature like that?

A new semester deserves a new blog

...esp when it's for your creative writing class ;)

The first semester of my junior year began this week and after two days I'm still a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed optimist about the coming months. I am excited for my classes but especially my writing for children and adolescence class [for which I am blogging]. Of my six classes, this was my last one to be introduced to and right off the bat I knew I'd love it. I'm just so much more comfortable in English classes than any other, I can't explain it. Yes, I'm still a psychology major, but I'm allowed to have more than one interest, aren't I? Anyway, so excited to get reading and writing. I'm going to be pretty busy this semester.

So this blog is to keep kind of a record of what I'm reading and a little of what I'm writing and how I feel about all of it. [How did this make you feel?] Sounds like an awesome excuse to make reading, writing, and critic a consistent part of my life for the next for months so I say "lead on!"