I know how this is gonna go, but you could surprise me, if you wanted.
You’re going to try to convince them that I’m wrong, that I’m the bad guy, that my design is inept, inexperienced, useless. You will tell them that I cannot help you. You will sing your plight, put on a show. All blame will be directed at me. I don’t blame you though, this is your job.
I, in turn, will do my job. I will let you put on your show, I will be a good audience member. I will not defend myself, because that is not part of my job description. I will simply sit and listen and let you act out your story, even though I’ve already seen how it ends.
You could change the ending, though, as I said. You could say something novel and genuine. You could speak a different language and surprise us all. It’d be great for me, cause this song is way overplayed. But you probably won’t- cause you only know one tune.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Rough Writer
So, the bulk of my experience in NaNoWriMo has been, in all honesty, just about how fast my fingers can tap along the keyboard to string words together into sentences. That’s what it’s all about, after all- the word count. And I get, or at least I think I get, why some of my friends whom I consider to be real writers don’t support the idea: word count doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with a story being in any way good.
But at the same time, I remember something my college playwriting professor told me which I didn’t get at the time. He said that in order to write well, you have to write badly. He was of the belief, and his class objectives followed accordingly, that you’re a hell of a lot more likely to find the diamond in the rough that makes the brilliant moments in stories if you have a whole lot of rough. In that class we were supposed to be creating at least ten new pages of material each and every week. And he not only accepted but encouraged us to make that material pretty crappy. The idea being that if I can pull one good line or one good observation or one good idea from those ten pages than you're golden. At the time, my self criticism was so extreme that I could get out- at most- two pages which I’d revised five times over. Sort of defeated the purpose of the exercise.
This- in and of itself- is why it is so valuable for me to do NaNoWriMo. It forces me to write because of the pressure to hit the word count markers regardless of the quality of the material. It forces me to ignore that voice in my head screaming about how bad what I’m writing is, and how I should just erase it. It creates an environment in which you can do anything- contrived story lines, cheap ploys, whatever- to get the word count up. And every letter of encouragement we get reminds me that regardless of how bad it may be there will be some diamonds in that rough. And I can say, that from the bit I’ve been reading through, that there are some diamonds in there. Which is a huge surprise to me, to say the least.
But I’ve been noticing that there is more to it than that. I have, without even researching the tools and tricks that real writers use, started using some of them (I think). I was reading through some of what I wrote last night and I remembered- ‘oh yeah, I researched that’. Whether it’s fleshing out a location by drawing from a real place, trying to make a character more believable by looking into the little details in other books I loved that made them stick with me, researching how to pull in the little plot points to support that larger arch, whatever. I believe- and again I don’t know because I am not what I would consider to be a real writer- that this is what real writers do. From what I’ve read on the amazing blogs of people in this community these are the kinds of steps that are involved when writing a first draft. I never received any formal training on how to do this stuff, but I’ve been doing it.
And I think that this is one of the biggest advantages of this practice. By having this artificial environment in which I am asked to accomplish this task I start to do at least some of the things I will need to do for real without over thinking it. Because one of the big issues that I’ve always noticed in my class work is that I get too stuck in the how and miss the what. The how, usually, is just supposed to be a jumping off point. Especially in creativity where you’re supposed to be- you know- creative. Trying to follow someone else’s steps verbatim is not going to help you be creative. You have to change it, make it yours, make it work for you. This challenge is forcing me to do that because I’m not following some step by step guide that someone else made up; I’m finding my own path.
I assume that these lessons I’m learning are within the realm of “Novel Writing 101” as compared to advanced methods evolved by advanced writers. I’m fine with that. I make no pretense of knowing what the hell I’m doing. But I’m finding a way that works for me. And regardless of what comes of this novel- which I assume will be nothing- I am learning. And that’s pretty big for me.
But at the same time, I remember something my college playwriting professor told me which I didn’t get at the time. He said that in order to write well, you have to write badly. He was of the belief, and his class objectives followed accordingly, that you’re a hell of a lot more likely to find the diamond in the rough that makes the brilliant moments in stories if you have a whole lot of rough. In that class we were supposed to be creating at least ten new pages of material each and every week. And he not only accepted but encouraged us to make that material pretty crappy. The idea being that if I can pull one good line or one good observation or one good idea from those ten pages than you're golden. At the time, my self criticism was so extreme that I could get out- at most- two pages which I’d revised five times over. Sort of defeated the purpose of the exercise.
This- in and of itself- is why it is so valuable for me to do NaNoWriMo. It forces me to write because of the pressure to hit the word count markers regardless of the quality of the material. It forces me to ignore that voice in my head screaming about how bad what I’m writing is, and how I should just erase it. It creates an environment in which you can do anything- contrived story lines, cheap ploys, whatever- to get the word count up. And every letter of encouragement we get reminds me that regardless of how bad it may be there will be some diamonds in that rough. And I can say, that from the bit I’ve been reading through, that there are some diamonds in there. Which is a huge surprise to me, to say the least.
But I’ve been noticing that there is more to it than that. I have, without even researching the tools and tricks that real writers use, started using some of them (I think). I was reading through some of what I wrote last night and I remembered- ‘oh yeah, I researched that’. Whether it’s fleshing out a location by drawing from a real place, trying to make a character more believable by looking into the little details in other books I loved that made them stick with me, researching how to pull in the little plot points to support that larger arch, whatever. I believe- and again I don’t know because I am not what I would consider to be a real writer- that this is what real writers do. From what I’ve read on the amazing blogs of people in this community these are the kinds of steps that are involved when writing a first draft. I never received any formal training on how to do this stuff, but I’ve been doing it.
And I think that this is one of the biggest advantages of this practice. By having this artificial environment in which I am asked to accomplish this task I start to do at least some of the things I will need to do for real without over thinking it. Because one of the big issues that I’ve always noticed in my class work is that I get too stuck in the how and miss the what. The how, usually, is just supposed to be a jumping off point. Especially in creativity where you’re supposed to be- you know- creative. Trying to follow someone else’s steps verbatim is not going to help you be creative. You have to change it, make it yours, make it work for you. This challenge is forcing me to do that because I’m not following some step by step guide that someone else made up; I’m finding my own path.
I assume that these lessons I’m learning are within the realm of “Novel Writing 101” as compared to advanced methods evolved by advanced writers. I’m fine with that. I make no pretense of knowing what the hell I’m doing. But I’m finding a way that works for me. And regardless of what comes of this novel- which I assume will be nothing- I am learning. And that’s pretty big for me.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Day One
So, right off the bat I am realizing why they have the whole rule of starting off from scratch. In trying to pick up where I left off on my story from November, I had to read over at least some of what I’ve written. It’s been a long time since I even looked at the thing and I’d forgotten some of the main character’s names, quirks, motivations, etc. I wasn’t stupid enough to allow myself to read through the whole thing (because I knew if I did I’d just want to scrap it and this whole camp thing altogether). But just in the few paragraphs I did read I found so many typos, missed words, even sentences so messed up that I struggled to understand what I’d been trying to say (missed words was by far the biggest issue). I couldn’t help but start to make little corrections as I went through.
Inevitably, I started thinking ‘Well what if I just got rid of this paragraph and re-wrote this section’ or ‘how about I just scrap this scene’. My finger was itching for the delete button like you wouldn’t believe! However, the point of this exercise is to finish the damned story- not to edit it! This is NaNoWriMo- NOT NaNoEdMo, I cannot delete everything and hope to make it out with 100k words- it’s just not gonna happen.
Now, I have signed up for this with the thought that it’ll probably take another 50k words to finish it but I will say that should the story roll along to it’s natural conclusion before that I will more than happily consider myself done. I just don’t think that’s gonna happen. Especially since I don’t even think I’m at the halfway point and I crossed the 50k finish line back in November.
At any rate, due to the minor edits I made as I scrolled through in attempts to reorient myself I only came out with an additional 866 words. Not, needless to say, my goal for the first day. But I am hopeful that I can pump out the words more easily now that I remember what was going through my main characters head when I left off and what needs to happen next in my story arch. Stay tuned.
Inevitably, I started thinking ‘Well what if I just got rid of this paragraph and re-wrote this section’ or ‘how about I just scrap this scene’. My finger was itching for the delete button like you wouldn’t believe! However, the point of this exercise is to finish the damned story- not to edit it! This is NaNoWriMo- NOT NaNoEdMo, I cannot delete everything and hope to make it out with 100k words- it’s just not gonna happen.
Now, I have signed up for this with the thought that it’ll probably take another 50k words to finish it but I will say that should the story roll along to it’s natural conclusion before that I will more than happily consider myself done. I just don’t think that’s gonna happen. Especially since I don’t even think I’m at the halfway point and I crossed the 50k finish line back in November.
At any rate, due to the minor edits I made as I scrolled through in attempts to reorient myself I only came out with an additional 866 words. Not, needless to say, my goal for the first day. But I am hopeful that I can pump out the words more easily now that I remember what was going through my main characters head when I left off and what needs to happen next in my story arch. Stay tuned.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
The Night Before Camp
I went to a summer camp once when I was a kid. Once. It did not go... well. I did not like being away from home, I did not like having no one or nothing familiar and comfortable to get me through day by day, and I did not do well with the whole 'make friends with everybody!' set-up that is the primary reason for camp. I was never a skilled friend-maker and after many years of practice I am not much better at it. When left to my own devices, more often than not, I will still hide away in the corner and gravitate away from new people like an opposing magnet.
So, entering into this metaphorical camp which is based on the same ideas of adventure and getting rid of old comforts in order to explore new territory with new people is giving me a bit of anxiety. I am nervous about trying to make friends with other participants (get this- I’m going to be put in a cabin!). I am nervous about throwing caution to the wind and trying to be adventurous. I am nervous, most of all, about trying to reach the word count everyday. Especially given my struggle just to get a post up here everyday.
But, I am nothing if not interested in change and regardless of what fears or concerns I may have you can't let that stop you from making change, right? After all, they tell you right up front that this whole thing is "smack-dab in the middle of your crazy life". So it should be, accordingly, crazy. So, without further ado, let the insanity begin!
So, entering into this metaphorical camp which is based on the same ideas of adventure and getting rid of old comforts in order to explore new territory with new people is giving me a bit of anxiety. I am nervous about trying to make friends with other participants (get this- I’m going to be put in a cabin!). I am nervous about throwing caution to the wind and trying to be adventurous. I am nervous, most of all, about trying to reach the word count everyday. Especially given my struggle just to get a post up here everyday.
But, I am nothing if not interested in change and regardless of what fears or concerns I may have you can't let that stop you from making change, right? After all, they tell you right up front that this whole thing is "smack-dab in the middle of your crazy life". So it should be, accordingly, crazy. So, without further ado, let the insanity begin!
Saturday, July 30, 2011
A Wish For My Friends
It's strange to have confidence in something that's supposed to last forever when so much of existence is impermanent. But from what I’ve seen, from what I've been a part of, I have as much confidence as one can reasonably get. Rarely have I seen two people who balance each other out so well, who work so well as a system rather than two parts, who push each other forward through life's struggles and who offer so much hope for accomplishing more.
They say that intention is what matters and that that's the energy you put out which affects change beyond your individual actions. Well, all my intention, all my energy is for you to be joyful most often, excited second most, content third and for you to always, always feel loved.
Congratulations to my dear friends on their wedding day.
They say that intention is what matters and that that's the energy you put out which affects change beyond your individual actions. Well, all my intention, all my energy is for you to be joyful most often, excited second most, content third and for you to always, always feel loved.
Congratulations to my dear friends on their wedding day.
Friday, July 29, 2011
The End of the Tour
The meeting droned on just the way she anticipated with her marketing exec citing statistics and data points from focus groups about the kind of artist they wanted to see. There had been so many changes to her wardrobe, dance sequences, lighting, song writers and lyrics over the course of the tour that the only way she could keep up was with a mic in her ear leading her through each performance step by step. She was exhausted, too exhausted to care about this stuff. Her thoughts seemed to be coming slower to her.
“Look, I don’t want to ruin your whole presentation or anything, but do I really I need to be here for this? I mean- can’t the choreographers just teach me the new steps without you explain it to me, does it really matter if I’m here?” she asked, letting the irritation and sheer exhaustion show in her voice.
The man whom she disliked intensely for no other reason than that he had small, squinty eyes which unsettled her gave her a look. It was coupled with a smile but it worried her. “You’re tired, huh?” he asked her. There was no sound of concern for her well being in his voice but a fierce practicality which troubled her further. He shot a look at the other people in the room and then nodded. “Well, you’ve had a good run- we didn’t expect you to make it the whole tour,” he said, organizing his papers and powering down the monitor.
“Wha- what are you… talking about?” she said. She looked around at the people in the room as they started packing up their things. No one made eye contact with her.
The squinty eyed-man pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and hit a button. “Yeah, we’re gonna need the next one ready for the eight o’clock show. Yeah, I know you would’ve liked more time but whose fault is that? Maybe if you had told us that it wouldn’t make it through the end of the week you would have had more time and maybe next time you’ll pay attention to your damned job long enough to make more accurate projections so we wouldn’t have to keep dealing with your incompetent bullshit!” he
yelled into the phone. “Make it happen!” he concluded and angrily hit the phone again, slamming it back into his pocket.
“Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on?” she screamed. The squinty eyed man stopped, calmly placed the papers back down on the table and looked at her as if she were a bug.
“Your run is over. We appreciate your service but we’re going to retire you now.” He looked at her, calm and cold.
Her heart sped up and she found it impossible to breathe.
Just then the door opened up behind her and a small, frazzled looking man with thick glasses and a sweat ring on his color walked in holding a hard drive.
“Took you long enough!” the squinty-eyed man yelled at him. “Switch it out. And you think there’s anyway you could try to program one that lasts longer than a month?”
“She’s designed to do what she’s programmed to do, not to learn. You want a learning model it’ll cost a lot more. You want a singing, dancing model then make a show that can last a full tour run and she’ll last the run, too,” he said, fiddling with some external attachment with a pair of pliers. He came up to her and gave her kind, sad eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetie- you did a good job,” he said, putting a hand to the back of her neck.
She felt pressure as if a switch was being compressed and then her vision went dark.
“Look, I don’t want to ruin your whole presentation or anything, but do I really I need to be here for this? I mean- can’t the choreographers just teach me the new steps without you explain it to me, does it really matter if I’m here?” she asked, letting the irritation and sheer exhaustion show in her voice.
The man whom she disliked intensely for no other reason than that he had small, squinty eyes which unsettled her gave her a look. It was coupled with a smile but it worried her. “You’re tired, huh?” he asked her. There was no sound of concern for her well being in his voice but a fierce practicality which troubled her further. He shot a look at the other people in the room and then nodded. “Well, you’ve had a good run- we didn’t expect you to make it the whole tour,” he said, organizing his papers and powering down the monitor.
“Wha- what are you… talking about?” she said. She looked around at the people in the room as they started packing up their things. No one made eye contact with her.
The squinty eyed-man pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and hit a button. “Yeah, we’re gonna need the next one ready for the eight o’clock show. Yeah, I know you would’ve liked more time but whose fault is that? Maybe if you had told us that it wouldn’t make it through the end of the week you would have had more time and maybe next time you’ll pay attention to your damned job long enough to make more accurate projections so we wouldn’t have to keep dealing with your incompetent bullshit!” he
yelled into the phone. “Make it happen!” he concluded and angrily hit the phone again, slamming it back into his pocket.
“Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on?” she screamed. The squinty eyed man stopped, calmly placed the papers back down on the table and looked at her as if she were a bug.
“Your run is over. We appreciate your service but we’re going to retire you now.” He looked at her, calm and cold.
Her heart sped up and she found it impossible to breathe.
Just then the door opened up behind her and a small, frazzled looking man with thick glasses and a sweat ring on his color walked in holding a hard drive.
“Took you long enough!” the squinty-eyed man yelled at him. “Switch it out. And you think there’s anyway you could try to program one that lasts longer than a month?”
“She’s designed to do what she’s programmed to do, not to learn. You want a learning model it’ll cost a lot more. You want a singing, dancing model then make a show that can last a full tour run and she’ll last the run, too,” he said, fiddling with some external attachment with a pair of pliers. He came up to her and gave her kind, sad eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetie- you did a good job,” he said, putting a hand to the back of her neck.
She felt pressure as if a switch was being compressed and then her vision went dark.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
The Worst Day of Your Life
“Oh my God, this is the worst day of my life!”
“You found out the tumor is malignant?”
“Huh? No!”
“Your house get foreclosed?”
“No.”
“Your husband leave you?”
“No!”
“Get laid off? Walk in on your kid having sex? Find naked pictures of your significant other on the internet?”
“Ok, ok I get it- my day isn’t that bad, right? I should just grin and bare it.”
“No, I’m just trying to get a handle on your situation.”
“You found out the tumor is malignant?”
“Huh? No!”
“Your house get foreclosed?”
“No.”
“Your husband leave you?”
“No!”
“Get laid off? Walk in on your kid having sex? Find naked pictures of your significant other on the internet?”
“Ok, ok I get it- my day isn’t that bad, right? I should just grin and bare it.”
“No, I’m just trying to get a handle on your situation.”
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Rookie Speech
“You rookies come in here, brand new badge flashing away on your lapel, thinking that you’re hot because you’re young you got the edge on us seniors. Well, kid- you got nothing. Nothing more than a boat load of adrenaline and a jumpy trigger finger. That’ll calm down real quick, just you wait.
“Me? I been around too long and seen too much to be trying so damned hard. And I learned a long time again to keep my head down, mouth shut, and ears open. You, buddy, are gonna learn. You won’t be so desperate to catch a bust and flash your pride around here when get down to the real business of homicide.
“You look at me and you think I’m old. Well I’ve seen more than you can even dream of your misguided little brain. I saw my first body when I was 12 years old- can you say that? That’s right, 12. It was the summer of ’72.
“Back then, kids left their bikes sittin’ out on the lawn. People left their doors open to catch the cross breeze. Nobody had a fenced-in yard or security systems or any of the rest of it. We played baseball and ate ice cream from the local dairy. We hung out at the damn swimming when it got real hot. We went fishin’. And that’s where old Mr. Baker first saw us.
“Tommy was the first one to go missin’. Everybody thought he fell into the damn at night, maybe tripped up while running down the path. We formed a search part after the second day cause nobody believed he’d run away- we didn’t have trouble youth back then. If you were trouble your dad put the fear a’ God into you and you worked off your troubles in somebody’s yard pulling weed or pushing a mower. No, Tommy didn’t run away.
“We even dredged the dam, see. Went right down to the bottom. Never found him. Not till three weeks later. His body was sitting all arraigned in the playground at school. The killer had scooped out his organs, replaced them with potting soil grew a nice sunflower in there.
“Oh, now you’re paying attention- now you know what I’m talkin’ about. That’s right, my friend Tommy was the very first victim of the Sunflower killer. That’s when Foulkrod went on the map, when we got our very own serial killer. You know the rest of the story, I assume. They found a total of nine bodies before they finally figured out Mr. Baker from the bait shop was tracking down the boys from the dam. Well, I was there from the start.
“I saw this town go from the laid back, blind community where everyone was safe to the place is now. Now everybody’s got a security system or a gated yard. Everybody keeps guard dogs and double locks. You never see kids running around cause all the families that could afford to moved away and the playgrounds turned into apartment complexes and factories.
“Now we got ourselves a real hot bed of crime that leaves rookies like you chompin’ at the bit for their first big bust. Well, you’ll loose that cocky attitude real quick round here. When you get used to the smell of blood after it’s been sitting in the hot sun for a couple of hours, or a decomposing body that somebody just dug up- then you can talk to me about pride. Pride is what you get for keeping your lunch down at your first crime scene. Until then just shut up and stay the hell out of my face.”
*That was the speech Capt. Shaw used to give to all the new detectives back when he was still investigating. It's a good thing he got promoted cause by that time Wikipedia had invented and all the rookies had already looked up the Sunflower Killer and been disappointed to find out he was famous in Foulkrod, IN- not Foulkrod, IL.
“Me? I been around too long and seen too much to be trying so damned hard. And I learned a long time again to keep my head down, mouth shut, and ears open. You, buddy, are gonna learn. You won’t be so desperate to catch a bust and flash your pride around here when get down to the real business of homicide.
“You look at me and you think I’m old. Well I’ve seen more than you can even dream of your misguided little brain. I saw my first body when I was 12 years old- can you say that? That’s right, 12. It was the summer of ’72.
“Back then, kids left their bikes sittin’ out on the lawn. People left their doors open to catch the cross breeze. Nobody had a fenced-in yard or security systems or any of the rest of it. We played baseball and ate ice cream from the local dairy. We hung out at the damn swimming when it got real hot. We went fishin’. And that’s where old Mr. Baker first saw us.
“Tommy was the first one to go missin’. Everybody thought he fell into the damn at night, maybe tripped up while running down the path. We formed a search part after the second day cause nobody believed he’d run away- we didn’t have trouble youth back then. If you were trouble your dad put the fear a’ God into you and you worked off your troubles in somebody’s yard pulling weed or pushing a mower. No, Tommy didn’t run away.
“We even dredged the dam, see. Went right down to the bottom. Never found him. Not till three weeks later. His body was sitting all arraigned in the playground at school. The killer had scooped out his organs, replaced them with potting soil grew a nice sunflower in there.
“Oh, now you’re paying attention- now you know what I’m talkin’ about. That’s right, my friend Tommy was the very first victim of the Sunflower killer. That’s when Foulkrod went on the map, when we got our very own serial killer. You know the rest of the story, I assume. They found a total of nine bodies before they finally figured out Mr. Baker from the bait shop was tracking down the boys from the dam. Well, I was there from the start.
“I saw this town go from the laid back, blind community where everyone was safe to the place is now. Now everybody’s got a security system or a gated yard. Everybody keeps guard dogs and double locks. You never see kids running around cause all the families that could afford to moved away and the playgrounds turned into apartment complexes and factories.
“Now we got ourselves a real hot bed of crime that leaves rookies like you chompin’ at the bit for their first big bust. Well, you’ll loose that cocky attitude real quick round here. When you get used to the smell of blood after it’s been sitting in the hot sun for a couple of hours, or a decomposing body that somebody just dug up- then you can talk to me about pride. Pride is what you get for keeping your lunch down at your first crime scene. Until then just shut up and stay the hell out of my face.”
*That was the speech Capt. Shaw used to give to all the new detectives back when he was still investigating. It's a good thing he got promoted cause by that time Wikipedia had invented and all the rookies had already looked up the Sunflower Killer and been disappointed to find out he was famous in Foulkrod, IN- not Foulkrod, IL.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Square One
"Ha! It's back to square one for you!" the girl squealed at her, her pig tails bouncing happily.
Head hung low, lips pressed in a frown, Addie made her way back to the top of the hopscotch board.
Head hung low, lips pressed in a frown, Addie made her way back to the top of the hopscotch board.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Monday Night
Lily couldn’t sleep. The nightlight illuminated her space with star-shaped shafts of light and allowed a dim glow to cover the corners where things might be hiding. But the closet door was ajar. Its darkness seemed to seep into the room and block the cheer her sleepy-time turtle was supposed to bring. Something had moved in there, she was sure if it. She imagined it to be something slimy with many long, sharp teeth and a tail that whipped around like a kite in strong wind. She’d had her eyes focused on the same spot for what seemed like hours, watching and waiting for more movement, her stuffed panda pulled up to her nose for protection. She watched and waited, her eyes teetering on the edge of closing, her mind getting dull and blank.
Brian was in his room trying to will himself into actually doing his math homework. He’d set off on the quest for the perfect study music three hours ago and ended up with a small collection of much needed MP3s, none of which were by Beethoven. He updated his Facebook profile to let everyone know that he was finally about to, very begrudgingly, begin. It was then that the high-pitched scream of a very small, very terrified girl hit his ears.
By the time Marney had arrived at her daughter’s bedroom, toothbrush still in mouth, to find out what had caused her daughter to scream and her heart to skip a beat the damage had already been done. Her son, in attempts to rid the closet of whatever monster her little girl had imagined in there, had done several very showy karate kicks in various directions. These kicks had seemingly scared the monster away because her daughter now had a giant grin on her tear stained face. But they had also knocked over several of her toys and broken a recently purchased sunflower lamp. She gave her son a sigh and he simply shrugged his shoulders and grinned at her.
As Marney tucked her daughter back in to bed she reassured her that whatever had been in that closet had been frightened away by her brother’s awe-inspiring jump-spinning back kick and would surely not be stupid enough to return to a closet that was so well guarded. Placated, Lily snuggled back in with Mr. Pouchy, her panda, and smiled the smile of contentedly sleepy little girl. Glancing back at the room to check that she’d gotten all the pieces of the lamp Marney found herself contemplating how much it would cost to replace and instantly concluded it was a small price to pay for a comfortably sleeping daughter who trusted her big brother to keep the monsters away.
Brian was in his room trying to will himself into actually doing his math homework. He’d set off on the quest for the perfect study music three hours ago and ended up with a small collection of much needed MP3s, none of which were by Beethoven. He updated his Facebook profile to let everyone know that he was finally about to, very begrudgingly, begin. It was then that the high-pitched scream of a very small, very terrified girl hit his ears.
By the time Marney had arrived at her daughter’s bedroom, toothbrush still in mouth, to find out what had caused her daughter to scream and her heart to skip a beat the damage had already been done. Her son, in attempts to rid the closet of whatever monster her little girl had imagined in there, had done several very showy karate kicks in various directions. These kicks had seemingly scared the monster away because her daughter now had a giant grin on her tear stained face. But they had also knocked over several of her toys and broken a recently purchased sunflower lamp. She gave her son a sigh and he simply shrugged his shoulders and grinned at her.
As Marney tucked her daughter back in to bed she reassured her that whatever had been in that closet had been frightened away by her brother’s awe-inspiring jump-spinning back kick and would surely not be stupid enough to return to a closet that was so well guarded. Placated, Lily snuggled back in with Mr. Pouchy, her panda, and smiled the smile of contentedly sleepy little girl. Glancing back at the room to check that she’d gotten all the pieces of the lamp Marney found herself contemplating how much it would cost to replace and instantly concluded it was a small price to pay for a comfortably sleeping daughter who trusted her big brother to keep the monsters away.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Movie Review: HP & The Deathly Hallows P2
Let me preface this by saying that I am NOT an unber fan. Yes, I have read the whole series and yes I loved every damned word of it but I don’t have the memory for the minor characters and plot points that tend to drive people crazy in the transition from page to screen so I can’t comment on that.
Knowing that, it will probably not surprise anyone to know that I thought it was pretty damned loyal to the way things played out in the book. From what I remember, there were only a couple of small changes and they weren’t significant enough to make me think “that’s not how it happened!” or anything like that.
It picks up right where the last movie left off, showing you Voldemort obtaining the elder wand via grave robbery just in case you forgot. And then it dives right into setting the scene at Hogwarts where everything looks appropriately bleak and terrifying in comparison to the cheer the place used to represent.
Willow (or, you know- the actor who played Willow) makes a spot-on Griphook and leads them into the first trap as underhandedly as you would hope for. The ride through the vaults is one of the few moments where you really notice the 3d effects and I personally like it whis way- to have every other moment pop up with a 3d gimmick would pretty much ruin the seriousness of the movie and make you have no desire to watch it again unless you had 3d tv at home which I personally don’t feel the need to purchase.
Other notable performances by supporting characters include Aberforth and Neville who are pitch perfect to their characters from the book. So far as Harry goes, and I assume that everyone was as eager to see his performace as I was, I think he carried it as well as could be hoped for. With that sort of material at hand there is a severe danger of overacting (say, like Michael Gambon did when he took over for Richard Harris) and I’m incredinbly grateful to say that Mr. Radcliff does not try to oversell that whole ‘i’m about to die' thing. If anything, he underplays it which leaves you thinking about the greater repurcussions of how it feels to be, as Snape put it, a pig being raised to slaughter.
And Mr. Rickman does a decent job of the biggest character turnaround of the whole series. His speech patterns- the emphasis he puts on his dictation- do seem a bit out of place when talking about how destroyed he feels regarding the death of the unrequited love of his life. But at the same time I can see how, after making that part of the character, he couldn't exactly mumble when giving those lines either. All in all it's enough to make you love Snape as he is meant to be loved.
My one big complaint was how fast the attack on Hogwarts went. I know it is, despite more characters being killed off left and right than a lot of war movies, at heart still a children’s or at least young adult series. I get why they wouldn’t want to focus too much on the deaths of characters we grew attached to back in books 1, 3 and 5. But to get no more than a five second screen shot of “oh yeah- Fred, Remus and Tonks are dead” seemed… I don’t know, too quick.
Another more minor thing was the little screen time Malfoy got. That whole relationship of Malfoy and Harry was such a huge thing throughout the books and him being torn between trying to save his parents by being a good little death eater and not actually being, you know, evil, was really fascinating. I don’t think you get any sense of it in the movie. Granted, I’m not really sure how you could given the important action sequences and overall plot (plus the fact that most of the motivations and stuggles are thoughts that can’t be explained via any another method but a voiceover which would not have worked at all) but I felt disappointed to see the Malfoy family just run off before the final showdown without another word. (Again, that is what happened action wise and I don't see how they could have done it any other way. It just... left me wanting something more.)
Overall it was a good moive. With so much pressure built up by such an unimaginably large fan base and a movie franchise that started ten years ago there was a whole lot of pressure on these guys to finish up the series with a bang. And I personally think they did. Though, and I know this is silly, but I am sad that, as all the posters warned “It all ends”. I will miss these movies coming out every summer. But, at least I have the books to re-read many times over- which I intend to.
Knowing that, it will probably not surprise anyone to know that I thought it was pretty damned loyal to the way things played out in the book. From what I remember, there were only a couple of small changes and they weren’t significant enough to make me think “that’s not how it happened!” or anything like that.
It picks up right where the last movie left off, showing you Voldemort obtaining the elder wand via grave robbery just in case you forgot. And then it dives right into setting the scene at Hogwarts where everything looks appropriately bleak and terrifying in comparison to the cheer the place used to represent.
Willow (or, you know- the actor who played Willow) makes a spot-on Griphook and leads them into the first trap as underhandedly as you would hope for. The ride through the vaults is one of the few moments where you really notice the 3d effects and I personally like it whis way- to have every other moment pop up with a 3d gimmick would pretty much ruin the seriousness of the movie and make you have no desire to watch it again unless you had 3d tv at home which I personally don’t feel the need to purchase.
Other notable performances by supporting characters include Aberforth and Neville who are pitch perfect to their characters from the book. So far as Harry goes, and I assume that everyone was as eager to see his performace as I was, I think he carried it as well as could be hoped for. With that sort of material at hand there is a severe danger of overacting (say, like Michael Gambon did when he took over for Richard Harris) and I’m incredinbly grateful to say that Mr. Radcliff does not try to oversell that whole ‘i’m about to die' thing. If anything, he underplays it which leaves you thinking about the greater repurcussions of how it feels to be, as Snape put it, a pig being raised to slaughter.
And Mr. Rickman does a decent job of the biggest character turnaround of the whole series. His speech patterns- the emphasis he puts on his dictation- do seem a bit out of place when talking about how destroyed he feels regarding the death of the unrequited love of his life. But at the same time I can see how, after making that part of the character, he couldn't exactly mumble when giving those lines either. All in all it's enough to make you love Snape as he is meant to be loved.
My one big complaint was how fast the attack on Hogwarts went. I know it is, despite more characters being killed off left and right than a lot of war movies, at heart still a children’s or at least young adult series. I get why they wouldn’t want to focus too much on the deaths of characters we grew attached to back in books 1, 3 and 5. But to get no more than a five second screen shot of “oh yeah- Fred, Remus and Tonks are dead” seemed… I don’t know, too quick.
Another more minor thing was the little screen time Malfoy got. That whole relationship of Malfoy and Harry was such a huge thing throughout the books and him being torn between trying to save his parents by being a good little death eater and not actually being, you know, evil, was really fascinating. I don’t think you get any sense of it in the movie. Granted, I’m not really sure how you could given the important action sequences and overall plot (plus the fact that most of the motivations and stuggles are thoughts that can’t be explained via any another method but a voiceover which would not have worked at all) but I felt disappointed to see the Malfoy family just run off before the final showdown without another word. (Again, that is what happened action wise and I don't see how they could have done it any other way. It just... left me wanting something more.)
Overall it was a good moive. With so much pressure built up by such an unimaginably large fan base and a movie franchise that started ten years ago there was a whole lot of pressure on these guys to finish up the series with a bang. And I personally think they did. Though, and I know this is silly, but I am sad that, as all the posters warned “It all ends”. I will miss these movies coming out every summer. But, at least I have the books to re-read many times over- which I intend to.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Statistics
It was like falling in love, only backwards. The same sudden, impulsive reactions occurred. Except that now the things he had originally had an abrupt, strange attraction to inspired an oddly strong sense of revulsion in him.
The way she tapped her fingernail on her front teeth as she sat with a bemused expression now annoyed him beyond any reason. The way she hummed under her breath when she was making her coffee in the morning inspired a nearly overwhelming urge to snap out a warning to shut up. Even the light snore which he once thought adorable and endearing now sounded like nails on a chalk board.
It made no sense to him and the more deeply he thought about it the more irrational it became. He loved her, he was smitten with her, he was devoted to her. And yet as time passed he felt the feeling grow.
He tried talking himself out it but logic didn’t work on irrational impulses. He tried hating himself since it was obviously his fault. But that solution didn’t fit as it made him withdraw from her even further. He tried planned romance but found it nearly impossible to enjoy himself. And in the end he had yet another failed marriage under his belt.
The way she tapped her fingernail on her front teeth as she sat with a bemused expression now annoyed him beyond any reason. The way she hummed under her breath when she was making her coffee in the morning inspired a nearly overwhelming urge to snap out a warning to shut up. Even the light snore which he once thought adorable and endearing now sounded like nails on a chalk board.
It made no sense to him and the more deeply he thought about it the more irrational it became. He loved her, he was smitten with her, he was devoted to her. And yet as time passed he felt the feeling grow.
He tried talking himself out it but logic didn’t work on irrational impulses. He tried hating himself since it was obviously his fault. But that solution didn’t fit as it made him withdraw from her even further. He tried planned romance but found it nearly impossible to enjoy himself. And in the end he had yet another failed marriage under his belt.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Playground Politics
She would never admit it to anyone, but Elaine got a thrill out of being the playground monitor. She saw herself, in quiet moments, as the overlord of an intricate web of social connections and hierarchies. She surveyed the landscape as children fought for dominance in the sandbox, determined who could ride the swings first, pushed their way ahead in line for the slide. Every moment another child would make his claim to a piece of playground equipment and have to prove his dominance over the child in charge. Fierce battles would erupt and she would be the one to determine the victor.
Now, in terms of her job, she should have punished the dominant child- the one who pushed hardest or hit. The rules led that child to time out and a stern redirection. But from time to time, she had to reward those who showed signs of leadership capacity.
That’s what most people didn’t understand. It was less like the African Sahara where male lions would fight over the spoils and more like primitive forms of government.
Some children even showed Machiavellian policies. They would kidnap dolls brought in for show and tell and hold them hostage in order to secure their time on the swing set. They would lie to another child that someone else had called them a name and then steal their spot on line for the slide when they went to tell her. One child, by sheer intimidation, had scared the other children into making offerings of candy, brightly colored stationary or toys in order to take their turn on the slide. He sat at the top watching as the scared children made their way up to him, eyes cast downward, their hands trembling slightly as they held out their meager offerings and hoped he would be pleased. All that was missing from the scene was a paper crown atop his head signifying his space.
She let him do this for longer than was right, she knew. But she was too fascinated to call it off before she could observe the rules trickle down through whispers and frightened asides. And she was too amused by the rare moment to cut short the young king’s rule before he’d a had a chance to enjoy it.
When she called him over to her to confront him she didn’t bother to ask if he knew why she’d pulled him aside- his satisfied smile told her he already knew. She simply held out her hand and raised an eyebrow. She would relish the memory of his smile wilting and fading as he handed over the prizes for years to come.
Now, in terms of her job, she should have punished the dominant child- the one who pushed hardest or hit. The rules led that child to time out and a stern redirection. But from time to time, she had to reward those who showed signs of leadership capacity.
That’s what most people didn’t understand. It was less like the African Sahara where male lions would fight over the spoils and more like primitive forms of government.
Some children even showed Machiavellian policies. They would kidnap dolls brought in for show and tell and hold them hostage in order to secure their time on the swing set. They would lie to another child that someone else had called them a name and then steal their spot on line for the slide when they went to tell her. One child, by sheer intimidation, had scared the other children into making offerings of candy, brightly colored stationary or toys in order to take their turn on the slide. He sat at the top watching as the scared children made their way up to him, eyes cast downward, their hands trembling slightly as they held out their meager offerings and hoped he would be pleased. All that was missing from the scene was a paper crown atop his head signifying his space.
She let him do this for longer than was right, she knew. But she was too fascinated to call it off before she could observe the rules trickle down through whispers and frightened asides. And she was too amused by the rare moment to cut short the young king’s rule before he’d a had a chance to enjoy it.
When she called him over to her to confront him she didn’t bother to ask if he knew why she’d pulled him aside- his satisfied smile told her he already knew. She simply held out her hand and raised an eyebrow. She would relish the memory of his smile wilting and fading as he handed over the prizes for years to come.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wisdom without understanding
The older I get the more I realize I don't know.
The more I recognize I don't know the more humble and open minded I become.
The more open minded I become the more able I am to learn from others.
The more I learn from others the less my internal observations make sense to me and the more I recognize I don't know.
The more I recognize I don't know the more humble and open minded I become.
The more open minded I become the more able I am to learn from others.
The more I learn from others the less my internal observations make sense to me and the more I recognize I don't know.
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