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.