#NaNoReMo Update: Heroes and Villains

Imagine if a select minority of people, for no particular reason, were telepathic.  Not because of radioactivity or an alien ring or anything seen in comics, but just by birth.  They wouldn't look or necessarily act any differently then you or I, but they’d read everyone around them, know their motives and navigate accordingly.  Some people would undoubtedly use this power for good, others for evil, and others probably wouldn't know what to do with it.  But they’d all see the world very differently from those around them.

Well, that is the world of Nicholas Nickleby.  Save that instead of telepathy, our heroes and villains have what was once mistakenly described as common sense.  They see the world around them for what it really is, they can judge people by their actions rather than their appearances and they use these judgments to attempt to navigate the world.  At this point, there’s only a select few who clearly have this power- the book’s namesake, of course, his sister, their uncle and an associate of his who is somehow simultaneously more real and more mysterious than any of the other characters thus far.

Let’s begin with the book’s namesake, since he’s obviously our hero.  While shrewd, Mr. Nickleby is a very young man and therefore his powers of observation and sound judgment are tempered by his inexperience.  While quick on the pick-up he misses a lot when it comes to new situations, women and the business world.  However, he’s proving to be a quick wit so far and seems increasingly capable of changing his appearance depending on the context of the situations in which he finds himself (a talent aided by his time in the theater); so I assume we can expect a very interesting arc from him as the story progresses.

Next up is Mr. Ralph Nickleby, our primary antagonist and uncle to our hero.  While portrayed as a somewhat heartless man there’s a fierce practicality to him that actually has me preferring him to some of the other supposed heroes of the tale.  This comes from a difficult upbringing, not unlike what our hero experienced, which imparted Ralph with an unshakable belief that money is the only thing in the world that maters.  This belief has led him to lead a rather solitary life (since relationships are the one sure-fire way to lose money) and to avoid interactions which don’t directly serve a business-related purpose.  Although he often causes great injury to those around him I appreciate the logic with which he does it: it’s calculated, thought out and concluded best based on his belief system and this automatically puts him worlds ahead of those who injure for the sake of injury.  I’m looking forward to seeing how his arc progresses.

Nicholas has a sister, Kate, who is shockingly similar to him in disposition.  She is naturally sweet, terribly naive but also very aware of the people around her.  Like her brother, she is able to mimic the appearance expected of her, to a certain extent.  But unlike him, she is boxed in by the limitations of her sex in that time period and therefore must rely on the assistance of men to get what she needs in life.  Being true of heart she never purposefully manipulates, but speaks honestly (if a little dramatically) to those she encounters.  A characteristic which, needless to say, gets her into a lot of trouble.  I have to say that despite her true-of-heart nature I find her rather dull and am not terribly interested in what she’ll end up doing; especially because I imagine it’ll just be to marry a nice guy eventually.

Last but certainly not least is Mr. Newman Noggs.  Newman is Mr. Ralph Nickleby’s assistant and therefore ends up bearing a lot of bad news to his associates.  But he never hesitates to intervene when he deems such bad news reckless, deliberately hurtful, or extreme (which is often the case when it comes to Ralph's family).  Thankfully his employer seems to be oblivious to all of this meddling so he’s able to do a lot of good without consequence to his station; but he is greatly limited by that station and therefore confined to meddling rather than grand heroic acts.  He’s had the least on-screen time of any main character so far but these glimpses of him have only served to make the mystery that much more intriguing and I’d have to say I’m most interested in seeing how his story ends.

Although this is just a tiny portion of the many characters in the story it does represent a rather complete view of those with the power of discernment.  Everyone else I’ve seen to this point is rather clueless or one-dimensional.  They’re either lower class individuals foolishly worshiping, mimicking and discussing the upper class; upper class individuals defined by their possessions, mannerisms and money; ruthless villains that play like caricatures rather than people; whimsical actors defined by their craft or clueless followers with very little going on upstairs.  Yes, they serve up the majority of the humor, action and mechanisms of plot- but I doubt I’m going to remember any of them when the story is done.

I suspect I’ll meet one or two more individuals with this power as the plot progresses and they’ll have their own part to play in the overall arc.  But for now, those are the major players.  And I’ll have more to say on the writing (verbose!), the style (satire) and the settings in later posts.  In the meantime, I hope you’re all having fun with your own reads.

Everyday Miscommunications

He made a joke.

She took it personally.

She said a sarcastic remark.

He wondered what she meant by it.

He mentioned a past interaction, simply because the memory popped into his mind.

She thought about the past.

He changed the topic.

She snapped at him.

He stumbled, shocked by the impact of the sting.

She misinterpreted his silence and was sucked into the quicksand of her own doubt.

She launched a full-out attack at his perceived assault, in defense of her own shortcomings.

He shut down.

She continued her tirade.

He made an excuse, said he had to go.

She started to cry.

He said he was sorry, then added that he didn’t know what for.

She hung up.

Another stone was built into the wall between them and neither one knew why.

The Upside of Death

"I think dad's a vampire."

The second he said it, he wished he could take it back.  But there it was, out there.  The words just filling the small space of the car.  He felt like a dog caught in front of his own accident waiting to have his nose rubbed in it.

But instead Jack just said "...ok?"

It was dubious but not nearly the reaction he'd been expecting.  It somehow gave him strength to push forward.  Or, more likely it was the six beers he'd consumed back at bar, but regardless he was pushing forward.

"Just hear me out.  The first thing, obviously, is the cancer.  I mean who goes from stage four unresponsive to chemo to... sprightly?"

"Sprightly?" Jack chuckled at him.

"Yeah- I mean one second he looks like death warmed over and I'm waiting for the call to let me know it's time to rent a suit and the next mom tells me he's checked himself out of the hospital.  I came home expecting to find him on his death bed, like hospice or something and he's practically..." he searched for the word in his vocabulary but found the thought becoming increasingly fuzzy as the beers reminded him that he should be significantly more relaxed than he was.  Had it been seven?

"Practically what?" Jack prodded as he turned the wheel, lazily directing the car through the darkness of the woods on route 71.

"He's weird!" Chad announced.  It hadn't been the word he was looking for, not at all, but it conveyed the sentiment well enough.  "I mean he's laughing and making jokes and he looks a thousand times better- I mean, he looks paler but paler looks way better than that yellowish tint he's had-"

"That could be the chemo," Jack said.

"Huh?" Chad stopped short, nearly tripping over his tongue as he clipped the sentence.

"The paleness," Jack said as he glanced over at him, "Chemo."

"Right but the giddiness?  The animated stories?  I saw him pinch mom's butt in the kitchen while she was chopping up vegetables, for christ sake!"

"I'm still not seeing how any of this equates with vampirism.  Joy over being alive, sure.  But blood-sucking undead?  Not so much," Jack laughed.  He seemed more confident than Chad remembered him, more self-assure somehow.  His powers of observation seemed to be fading as his body settled into a state of inebriation.  Maybe it had been eight?

"Ok- well how about this, he didn't want any diner!"

"Again, chemo."

"How the hell does a dying man have that much energy when he's not even eating?  And- you know what?  Even without the whole dying part he’s 73!  Even without the cancer he shouldn’t be so… whatever.  And it’s not just me- mom’s freaked, too!”

“Well, he’ll bring her over soon enough,” Jack said off-handedly. 

Chad’s mind caught on the statement, a knee-jerk reaction pulling him out of the haze.  “What?”

“I mean around- he’ll bring her around to his way of thinking, make her see how this is a second chance and all that.” Jack flustered. 

Chad felt clearer than he had been since he first got into the car, a sudden burst of adrenaline making him paranoid.  “You said over.”

“Chadley, you’re drunk,” Jack diagnosed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

As soon as he touched him the dashboard in front of him seemed to go lop-sided and he found himself leaning into the supportive hand as struggled to keep himself upright.  “Yeah.” Chad acknowledged.  “How the hell did that happen?”

“Um, I believe they call it beer,” Jack laughed.  It was a crisp, clear sound.  Like he was assured of his wit.  So unlike the Jack he knew.  It had been years since he’d seen him for more than a dinner at Christmas or some other occasion, but still.  This confident, charismatic Jack was not the awkward, perpetually uncomfortable boy he’d grown up with.

“You’re being paranoid.”  He heard it more than thought it but a look over at Jack let him know he hadn’t said anything.  He felt himself loosing his grasp on reality, withering.  Jack’s hand on his shoulder suddenly seemed like more a hindrance than a help.

“But where were you?  You tell me we’re going to a bar to talk and then you disappear to the bathroom for… I don’t know, a long time.  What was that all about?” he asked, trying to push his hand off his shoulder.  He felt so weak.

Jack didn’t say anything at that, just took another turn and led the car down a bumpy gravel road.

“Where’re you takin mee..?” he could barely get the words out.  There was no way he’d had enough to be this plastered.

“Ok, so let’s just say that dad is a vampire and let’s just say that mom soon will be, too- would that really be the worst thing?  I mean think about it- no more cancer, no more arthritis, no more imminent death.  They could finally take that cruise.  Really, there’s no down side,” Jack argued, his voice lilting as if he were listing the ingredients of a cake.  He put the car in park and undid his seat belt.

“No,” Chad said.  He wasn’t a thousand percent sure what he was saying it to.  But a voice in his head was screaming at him to get out of the car, get away from him.  His body wasn’t moving.  He pushed himself with his last ounce of strength and his head lolled to side. 

Jack was bent over him, his shoulders rising and falling in short little bursts of motion as he emanated sucking noises.  The fog in his head seemed to clear and even as his life started to fade he was certain of one thing.  “Vampire,” he whispered.

Jack straightened himself, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.  He smacked his lips and then bit into his own wrist.  Chad saw blood welling forth from the wound as Jack brought it towards him.

“You’re more observant I thought,” he smiled.

Me and Nicholas Nickleby

So last year, as part of my 2012 reading challenge, I began the daunting task of reading Nicholas Nickleby.  I have long been a fan of Dickens and I have long defended him against those who claimed that he was entirely too needlessly verbose to rightfully carry the credit so many literary scholars have given him over the years.  While I'm not about to abandon my stance that he is a great author I do have to admit that I found myself feeling acutely aware of the fact that he was being paid by the word as I slogged my way through the book. 

I was aware when I advanced through the chapters far more slowly than I thought I should be able to, I was aware when the month I had given myself to finish the book ended without me being even a quarter of the way through and I was painfully aware when I found myself procrastinating over and over again when I thought that I really should just sit down and read the damned thing.  After months of this I gave up on both the book and the reading challenge.

But I began this year by vowing to try it again and what better time to seek vengeance on my sloth than by challenging myself to finally finish the book for NaNoReMo, which John is once again hosting.  I admit, I find myself feeling very nervous about the fact that tomorrow marks the beginning of the shortest month of the year and I’m due to reach the end of this massive tome in only 28 days.  But I do have a significant head start and way more determination than I had the first time around- mainly because if I let this thing defeat me for a second time I will never forgive myself.

So this is me vowing to read- in its entirety- Nicholas Nickleby.  I will be linking back up to the Bathroom Monologues for blog hopping purposes as I post entries related to my progress and when I finally post my final review.  For those of you who are also participating, please post a comment and let me know so I can follow your progress as well.  For everyone else, wish me luck!

The History Of Moo Duk Kwan: A Non-Review

Quick note to the reader: I can’t do a regular book review of this book.  The translation (from Korean) prevents the flow of words that might pull someone in, the format is one of a scrap book of sorts filled with pictures and artifacts and the book is far too short to be critiqued the way you would a “real book”.  So I’m not going to.  I’m going to write about what I learned from it: my take on the history of Moo Duk Kwan.

Ah, hem.  The history of martial arts- any martial art, not just the one I study- is inevitably riddled with inconsistencies, contrary statements, gaps in the time line and more confusing answers than clarification.  Even when the timeline is relatively short (60 plus years for Tang Soo Do), it’s still difficult to get a clear idea of where it all started.

The reason for this is that the earliest form of martial arts (some variation of wrestling) can be found in just about every ancient culture known to man.  It pops up in historical records in Asia, Europe and the Middle East in various forms and then splits off into different styles that all claim to have originated in one specific locale.  Some people argue that all off these different forms originated separately and independently of each other while others state that the roots of modernly studied forms can be traced back to just a few cultures.  Trying to create a coherent timeline becomes virtually impossible to do without studying the entire history of the culture because of so many wars, military occupations and what I call knowledge hoarding.

Knowledge hoarding, for the purposes of this post, is the secretive way in which many individuals obtain a wealth of knowledge on a particular subject and then hide it away from the rest of the world to prevent anyone else from learning it.  This is something that human beings have done for as long as they’ve had the brain capacity to learn; but it’s especially prevalent in the history of martial arts.

In a practical way, this is totally understandable.  After all, I don’t want to teach you how to kill me.  But it makes studying the origins of any one form of martial arts really hard to do because it’s difficult if not impossible to access the information you need.

The first page of this book is a great demonstration of this: it’s a full page on how the only people authorized to teach Tang Soo Do Moo Duk Kwan are instructors certified through the US Soo Bahk Do Moo Duk Kwan Federation and anyone not certified through that organization has basically no business teaching it.
 

This same tradition is the exact thing that made Hwang Kee’s education in martial arts so difficult for him.  He first observed someone fighting a group of men, totally outnumbered, using an open hand style of combat that he’d never seen before when he was seven years old.  He asked the man to teach him how to do this and the man said, predictably, “no”.   Hwang Kee, being a crafty little seven year old, went to this man’s house and basically spied on him and mimicked what he saw.  No formal training, no “Here’s how you do it”.  I can’t think of a better story to illustrate the point.

Then, you have the wars and military occupations which prevented the development and spread of many a great idea, martial arts being just one of them.  Korea was occupied by Japan from 1910 to 19 45 and during that time “all dimensions of Korean traditional cultural expression were prohibited”.  So even though there was an existing martial arts tradition- “Soo Bahk”- no one was allowed to study it.  (And now you’re all saying “Oh!  So that’s why Tang Soo Do was founded in 1945!”, right?) 

So little Hwang Kee, having observed but not been taught by this mysterious man, went on to do very well in school and begin work for the rail road company in Manchuria.  He was not exposed to martial arts again until he was 22 when he met a Chinese Master by the name of Kuk Jin Yang.  He met him through a friend at the railway, asked him to teach him and was promptly refused.  Yang’s excuse?  “I am not good enough to teach you.”  Hwang Kee visited him twice more, asked twice more, and was finally granted his request.

So, yay!  Finally at the age 22 our young founder is able to begin formal study… for all of a year before he had to return to Seoul.  So much for that.  Seoul, of course, is still occupied by the Japanese so there’s no formal study available to him.  But, he was able to find some books on Okinawan karate tucked away in the library of the Cho Sun Railway Bureau where he worked.  He studied these obsessively, practicing the moves described as best he could along with what he had learned from Master Yang.

As soon as Korea became an independent country he started his own school, formally teaching others what he had learned through his limited studies.  In the beginning, it was very, very difficult for his style to get its footing. Because of the Japanese occupation, no one had any idea of Soo Bahk or the Chinese martial arts and the name he used, “Hwa Soo Do” (translated as ‘art of the flower hand’) was nothing anyone had ever heard of.  His first group of students quit after three months.  He tried again.  His new group of students quit, again after about three months.

Feeling frustrated, Hwang Kee went downtown and met two karate masters who had formally studied in Japan- Sang Sup Chun and Won Kuk Lee.  They had both founded gyms there in Korea teaching Kong Soo Do and Tang Soo Do, respectively.  Both of these masters were experiencing growth in their schools because of the Japanese influence of their technique (even though the names are Chinese).  Being a practical man, Hwang Kee adopted the name Tang Soo Do for his teachings.  Within a few months his school was growing.

So again, yay!  He’s finally formally practicing karate… until the Korean war starts in 1950.  (Noticing the theme?)  He and his gym all moved south to seek safety from the north.  When the war ended, he was able to move back to Seoul, but had to practice in a gym without a proper floor because after all the destruction there wasn’t much prime real estate available.  But he and his students made do and the gym soon experienced growth again.

1953 to 1961 marked the most active and successful period in history for Mood Duk Kwan.  Hwang Kee published many books of his teaching as well as a monthly Moo Duk Kwan newsletter.  The art was widely recognized by the public and began to be taught in military bases of the US army.  And in 1961 the team was invited to the Goodwill Martial Arts Championship- the very first international competition featuring martial arts from Korea, China and Japan.  It earned Moo Duk Kwan international recognition.

Also, in 1957, Hwang Kee discovered the Moo Yei Do Bo Tong Ji- a book on Soo Bahk published 300 years earlier.  It is the only martial arts book from that era still available today.  Hwang Kee went through it at a microscopic level and incorporated its teachings into Moo Duk Kwan, attempting to bridge the gap of time and make Moo Duk Kwan into the traditional Korean Martial Art. 

All was well until May 16, 1961 when a military government was installed as a result of the April Revolution.  Lt. General Chong Hee Park took control of the government.  They immediately forced the gym to stop their monthly publications.  They fired the people instructing Moo Duk Kwan in the military bases “with no reason”.  They were prohibited from attending any international events. 

But perhaps most notable in this period of political unrest is the split between Tang Soo Do and Tae Kwon Do.  In 1964, the Tae Kwon Do group attempted to unify all Korean martial arts into one organization.  Tae Kwon Do had won favor in the Korean military during the Korean war and gained popularity when it was taught in the Korean military bases.  Supported by the government, pressure was placed on Moo Duk Kwan to join this system and Hwang Kee considered it because of this political pressure.  He ultimately refused for three reasons: 1) the fact that the official name would be Tae Kwon Do and he felt that they would lose the history of Soo Bahk, 2) they would be granted only 3 of 21 seats on the board of directors and 3) Moo Duk Kwan had previously been the leader in international activities/competitions.  (This is one of those historical stories that you can't but suspect would be told very differently from the other side...)

Hwang Kee’s refusal to join marked a huge shift in the popularity of the art.  Before this time, Moo Duk Kwan was practiced by over 70% of martial arts practitioners in Korea.  After this time, Tae Kwon Do replaced it as the most widely practiced martial art in Korea and, eventually, the world.  Many people split off from Mood Duk Kwan in order to practice Tae Kwon Do, eventually forming their own school.  It became an Olympic event in 2000.  In a nut shell, it’s why I had never heard of Tang Soo Do before I started practicing it in 2006.

But back to history: Tae Kwon Do was so highly favored by the government that in 1965, the school received a countermand ordering the dissolution of the Korean Soo Bahk Do Association.  Hwang Kee started legal proceedings against the Korean government in order to protect the school.  He won the lawsuit.  The government took it to the supreme court.  In 1966, he won again and forever secured the organization’s existence.

Since then, despite continuing political unrest, the art has continued to spread.  There are federation instructors in Malaysia, Australia, Germany, Switzerland, Belgium, Greece, Italy, the UK and the USA.  There are unofficial gyms (i.e. lead by instructors not officially ‘in the club’) all over the world.

Hwang Kee died in 2002 and his son took over the organization.  They are still training instructors, still competing internationally, and still hoarding knowledge, as evidence by the introduction of the book.  The art itself has roots in Japanese, Chinese, and strangely enough, Korean martial arts.  I feel overwhelmed by the complexities of its history, and it’s only 67 years old.

So perhaps it’s fitting that after having read this book I have only more questions, only more research to do, only more wonder about the connections between this art and the more ancient ones it’s based on.  After all, the purpose of practicing the art is to learn, not to know.  I’ve got a lot of learning to do.

Fail. Fail again. Fail better. - Samuel Beckett

That has long been one of my favorite quotes and I use it today to remind myself that as many great goals as I have there are far more flaws to contend with in my efforts to achieve those.  And that's ok.  Acceptance, self love, and not taking myself so damned seriously have been the themes in my life for the past few years.  So forget why I failed and let's move on to the the fail again part.

My failing goal for the year?  A simple reboot of the goal I failed at last year: to read a book a month.  That's my self-set goal for the 2013 Outdo Yourself Challenge.  There are a whole lot of fiction books on my reading list but there's a whole lot of non-fiction on there as well.  Specifically, there's a whole lot of non-fiction on the topic of my main hobby: Tang Soo Do.

One of the masters has taken it upon himself to improve the knowledge base of our school by making sure all the black belts have at least a basic understanding of the history of our craft, where it came from, how the knowledge was passed down (or, more accurately, snuck down) and the science behind the physical movements we do.  Being both a big fan of history and a person with a big reading goal for the year this assignment is right up my alley.

And so it is that my first read for the year will be Grandmaster Hwang Kee's The History of Moo Duk Kwan.  It's the first in a long list of books I need to read to enhance my understanding of the martial art I practice.  I'm reading it first this year because it's entirely too basic of a text for me to have not read already and every time I go to class I have a slight pang of guilt over it.  Well no more!

As always, I will be posting my reviews on here and including all the helpful links you might need to learn more about the book and get your own copy if you so choose.  The first helpful link is to The Book Vixen's site so you can sign up for your own reading challenge.  The "Outdo Yourself" category is just one of many so browse around and figure out which one works best for you.  Or don't set any goals at all and just simply read... just like I'm going to right now.

Out With the Old...

I turned 30 this year.  Apparently, it’s a big milestone birthday.  I say apparently because I didn’t really think all that much of it, but everyone around me kept making a big deal about it.  “Oh, that’s a big one- how are you going to celebrate?” and “You need to really have fun on your big day; birthdays mean less and less as you get older” and “It’s a natural time to pause and reflect on your life thus far, don’t fight it” and still other unwarranted words of wisdom I don’t remember or have chosen to forget.  There was always encouragement to overindulge in introspection and contemplation and I had to fight pretty hard to stay out of that hole.

Because I’m disturbingly introspective as is- I don’t need anyone encouraging it.  And the single greatest struggle of my life has been to take myself less seriously.  Reading back on old journals I’ve kept shows me that I’ve made A LOT of progress in this area.  But momentary reflection on my thoughts on most given days proves that I’ve still got a LONG way to go.

So towards that end, I’m not going to take this evening to self reflect.  I’m not going to list off my goals for the year and recount each success or (more often) each failure.  I’m not going to overindulge in self-flagellation and give myself still more opportunities for such by making yet another list of goals for the next year.  It’s just not productive.

I know what I’ve done and what I haven’t done.  I know what I did too much and what I need to do more.  And yes, I have some goals for the coming year.  But I’m not going to publish them here- because I think that’s a prime example of what I’d like to do less.  No, I’m going to keep them for myself.

And I will try very hard to keep this space for the things that may actually be useful to others like fiction pieces and book reviews and utilitarian insights I’ve learned the hard way.  And I suppose that’s the rub- because even in my attempt not to make any resolutions, I’ve made one.

Happy New Year.

#BestReads2012

I signed up for the Book Vixen’s 2012 Outdo Yourself Reading Challenge and gave myself the personal challenge of reading a book a month for the year.  With only a few days left in the year I’m gonna come right out and declare that I have epically failed to meet that personal challenge.  Of the 12 books I set out to read I have actually only read 7.  Well, technically 7 and a half if you count the fact that I’m stuck in the middle of Nicholas Nickelby and have little to no desire to finish it.  Everything sort-of fell apart in August and I have absolutely no valid excuse in the world as to why.  (Other than that I’m lazy and that’s the worst excuse of all.)  However, I did succeed in reading at least slightly more than I did last year, so that’s something.

Of the 7 books I have read I loved three of them, moderately enjoyed another two and really would-have sooner skipped the last two.  Since the title of the blog hop is “Best Reads” I’m going to focus on the three that I loved.  (Hmm… I’m sensing a theme in numbers here…)

1)      Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert

Her best seller Eat, Pray, Love topped my list last year so it’s no shock that she’s topping my list this year.  E,P,L introduced me to a woman who I am proud to say is one of my most favorite authors of all time.  Committed convinced me that her voice is so compelling that I’m likely to love just about anything she writes.  I plan to test this theory out next year by reading more of her works: I just received both Stern Men and Pilgrims for Christmas and am eagerly looking forward to seeing if her amazing voice is as lovely in fiction as it has been in non-fiction (I suspect it will be). 
I already wrote a lot about why Committed was so important for me so for the purpose of this post I’ll just sum it up thus:  For a topic as unimaginably complicated as marriage Gilbert does an amazing job of addressing a large variety of important points and concepts by looking both at historical trends and personal accounts and she does it all with the voice that I have come to absolutely adore.  It’s by far my best read of the year.

2)      Wicked by Gregory Maguire

This was my first exposure to Maguire as an author and I think it’s safe to say that he blew me away.  It was also a pretty novel (no pun intended) experience as I haven’t had a lot of formally ‘classic children’s tales’ turned into really intriguing adult literary experiences.  And this is certainly an adult tale- complete with sex, war, racism, religion, moral quagmires and all the self-loathing that comes from a character’s personal inquiry typical of coming-of age tales.  While I certainly wouldn’t sum it up as that, I will say that Elphaba’s journey is one of the most absorbing I’ve read and I’m more than willing to follow her son into the next level of the story- Son of a Witch is on my reading list for next year.

3)      You Suck by Christopher Moore

Another repeat offender here, with the sequel to one of my top reads from last year.  Christopher Moore is another one of my favorite authors.  He’s one of the funniest fantasy authors I know of, right up there with Terry Prachett, and his stories are like really delectable chocolate desserts: they’re really rich, seriously tasty and you can tell they took some intense effort to make.  His characters are both endearing and frustrating and they take the plot on a rollercoaster ride every time so you end up in a place you couldn’t quite have seen at the start.  And again, since You Suck is the second in a trilogy, it’s guaranteed that I’ll be reading Bite Me next year and will most likely love it just as much as I loved the first two.

I hate to end this best reads list in exactly the same fashion as I did last year’s since it seems indicative of a lack of progress.  But then again, if I have a perpetual resolution to read more next year I suppose that’s really not the worst thing since it means I still love reading, even if I don’t do enough of it.

Now hop along to another blog and read their Best Reads:
1) John Wiswell
2) Katherine Hajer
3) Cindy Vaskova
4) Johann Thorsson
5) Chaz Dillon
6) Elephant's Child
7) Chuck Allen
8) Katherine Nabity
9) Maria Kelly
10) T.S. Bazelli
11) Sonia Lal
12) Linda Wastilla
13) Danielle La Paglia 
14) Alexia

Tis the Season

I’m not religious so I’m not at all insulted by the much bemoaned lack of Christ in Christmas.  Nor am I that deeply enamored with the holiday in general.  In all honestly, Christmas has been on a downhill slope ever since I found out Santa Claus wasn’t real.  (Which, needless to say, was a pretty long time ago.)  However, I do tend to get sentimental over holidays that are fabled as being a time for family togetherness and the warm fuzzy feelings that come from basking in the glow of your loved ones.

It is because of this that I still get a little caught up in the holiday season.  I still put up a tree, still decorate my office at work, still order Christmas cards with disgustingly adorable pictures of my dog plastered across them, still bake cookies and pies and other assorted holiday goodies and still buy, wrap and give presents to the people I care about. 

But even I, with my lowered expectations given the removal of the mythical man and constant attempts to self care in hopes of avoiding making myself nuts with the whole thing, have been feeling a bit overwhelmed this year.  I don’t necessarily think that the capitalist machine that runs this great country of ours is on anymore crack than usual, but that's not saying much given that the usual amount of crack is A LOT.  Granted, no one got maced on black Friday this year but people still got trampled, shoved and injured in the truly horrifying rush of shoppers.  People are still going bankrupt trying to pay for all this crap.  People are still stealing, car jacking and committing other illegal acts in order to obtain gifts.  And people are still being unabashedly bat-shit crazy in general.

As much as I try to avoid commercials, ignore the holiday catalogs clogging up my mail box, stay away from the mall whenever possible (which is not easy when the mall takes up about two thirds of the land mass of the town you live in) and otherwise shelter myself from the madness I can’t help but ask the question that many other people have been asking for years: is this really what the season’s all about?

I mean, that's been the biggest source of stress.  Mainly the money and not having enough of it.  But also the fear that what you got that person isn’t enough.  Which, of course, drives you to buy more in attempts to fix that.  Which brings you back to the issue of money.  It’s a vicious cycle.  And because I’m that kind of a person, I can’t help but think that I’m being brainwashed into participating in the whole cycle in the first place.  I’m plagued by the thought that perhaps I should just hand-make some really loving cards for everyone and nix presents all together.  Lord knows it would save a lot of headaches.

But part of me still likes wrapping up that box, handing it to that person, and seeing the expression on their face when they open it.  It makes me happy, I can’t help it.  However, I don’t want to go broke doing it.  And I especially don’t want to go broke because of some mass-produced external pressure to do so.  I am much like the turret pleading “I’m different!” in my own little voice.

So perhaps I need to find another way to try to get some of the warm/fuzzy feeling that comes from giving.  And we all know that giving without receiving is always a good way to give your soul some much needed TLC.  Given that fact, I am struck by the staggeringly large number of ways to do just that this time of year.  Toy drives, food drives, coat drives, blanket drives, blood drives and pretty much every other type-of drive you can think of are abundant right now.  Just about every organization in existence is eagerly accepting volunteers to visit with a senior, serve food to a homeless individual or donate their expertise in accomplishing a particular task.  Not to mention the fact that a large part of the Atlantic sector is still in a state of emergency because of the giant storm that struck a month and a half ago and they desperately need help. The possibilities are near-limitless and I’m guaranteed a bigger bang for my buck if I spend it on non-perishable goods rather than another present for a family member who probably won’t remember it in a month’s time.

So if you’re at all like me this holiday season, I remind you of the same thing I’m reminding myself of: the season is about giving, not buying.  So whether it’s dropping off a grocery bag full of food, a garbage bag full of old coats, a box of toys, a pint of blood or simply some time you’ll be doing good.  And our world could really use some more of that in the midst of all this madness.

Movie Review: Wreck-it Ralph

I think it's safe to say that I was destined to love Wreck-it Ralph before I ever saw it.  I grew up in the dawn of the magic that is the in-home gaming system, right on the cusp between arcades and the new consoles which would become a staple in most people's homes.  My brother and I spent our childhoods blowing my poor mother's hard-earned cash in both arcades and at home where we devoutly worshiped our NES.  Additionally, I've been known to absolutely love animated movies that are deliberately made to be adorable.  Put those two things together and you've got Wreck-it Ralph, a movie which has absolutely stolen my heart.

They grab you in the very beginning by throwing just about every single gaming reference they can possibly think of at you.  In one of the first scenes we see Bowser, Dr. Eggman, and the ghost from Pac-man leading Ralph to try to come to terms with his villain self in what must be the most endearing support group yet.  Then Ralph passes Q*bert on his way to Tapper's where we see the paperboy from Paperboy, most of the fighters from Street Fighter, Frogger- hell, even the paddles and ball from Pong are there.  The first fifteen minutes of the movie had me excitedly squeaking every few seconds as another reference was made.  And when the primary antagonist shows his true colors for the first time he uses the Konami cheat code, which made me absurdly happy.  They span the world of gaming by having main characters from an old-school or "retro" arcade game, a racing game and a first-person shooter and they capture the worlds, the graphics and the typical canon of those games really well.

But as with all of these movies, the characters are what makes Wreck-it Ralph the masterpiece that it is.  First we have Ralph who reminds me, and I imagine most people out there, of their dad or their uncle.  He has the personality of a truck driver or a construction worker (or in his case, a demolition crew leader)- he's a bit gruff on the outside but on the inside he's a big 'ol teddy bear.  John C. Reily was the perfect choice for him and fleshes him out beautifully.  Then there's Felix who is perfectly voiced by Jack McBrayer from 30 Rock and has all the innocent quirks that made us fall in love with Kenneth the page.  Then we have Calhoun from the fast paced first-person shooter which Jane Lynch brings home with the quips and sarcastic remarks she's so famous for.  And of course Sarah Silverman who was way more adorable than she is when doing her characteristic comedy as Venellope.  And, the interactions between her and Ralph are so endearing that you can't help but fall in love with the both of them.

Yes, Venellope, you are.

And last but certainly not least is King Candy, the main antagonist who we later find out was the one who embedded the whole arcade with the fear that we see in so many interactions.  He's voiced by Alan Tudyk who I already worshipped from Firefly and came to see as ranged from Dollhouse.  He's got a very Alpha-esque vibe here as he starts out flighty and becomes one of the most devious villains around.  He's so devious he's able to convince Ralph that the biggest betrayal he's ever done is in the best interest of the person he's trying to protect.

I sense a boss battle coming...

The plot, needless to say, is spot on and has all the conflict, drama, humor and redemption we would expect from such a movie and the last scene is so heartwarming it made me cry.  That's right- I said it!  I cried at a kid's movie and I'm not afraid to admit it.  I would argue that if you don't have some kind-of serious warm and fuzzy feeling at the end of that movie then you must be dead inside.

I can't say that Venellope took the place of Agnes and Boo in my heart or that Ralph replaced Gru as the best villain-turned dad ever.  But I can say that I haven't loved a movie this much (or cried this much at the end of such a movie) since Despicable Me.  And given my unending adoration of said story that's saying a hell of a lot.

50k

Tuesday night I had a panic moment.  Sill 9k words from the monthly goal, and several thousand words under where I was supposed to be I had a distinct, acutely terrifying thought: “What if I don’t make it?”  Winner’s badges and triumphantly purple word count bars and a really cool winner’s t-shirt flashed before my eyes and then poofed out of existence like a magician’s disappearing act.  I walked downstairs to break for dinner feeling defeated and really, really sad.

I told my boyfriend about the source of my woes and after his initial reassurance went unheard he tried a novel approach: he held our dog hostage. 

He said “You have to finish, you know why?” 

I shook my head at him, looking very much like the kid who’s just lost his ice cream from off his cone in an overzealous lick.

“Because if you don’t Buddy’s gonna die.”

At first I thought he meant karmically, like a curse or something.  Until he promised to crush our little dog’s teeny-tiny head with a single kick.  He said all this as if it were the most reasonable, logical response to a failure to reach my word goal.

I stopped my pouting, looked at him and said “That is the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Over the next few days, with my little guy sleeping next to me on my bed, totally unaware of the danger he was in, I wrote.  I wrote with abandon.  I wrote without giving a rat’s ass whether or not what I was writing made sense to the plot or whether or not that was quite the word I was looking for or whether or not that was something that character would actually say.  And every time I found myself wanting to stop and research something on Wikipedia or look up that word in the thesaurus to see if there was something better to describe what I was trying to get at I would look over at my dog, so innocent and unaware of his impending doom, and keep on writing.  Because I didn’t want him to die.

*NOT Dead!*



I managed to play a serious game of catch up Wednesday when I met my word count goal after being 2k words behind.  Then tonight, because I’d just written over 3600 words the day before, I figured that another 3300 to cross that goal line was nothing.  A one-hour word war helped significantly and the promise of actually crossing the goal line and getting all of those things I mentioned above (not to mention my dog living through November) was enough to get me through.  I now have a triumphantly purple bar with the word “WINNER!” on it, a kick-ass badge- check it out, on your right, it’s so pretty!- and I will be ordering my awesome winner’s t-shirt (because even though this is my fourth year winning, I’ve never bought a winner’s t-shirt before). 

BUT, ah hem, I have not yet finished.  I started this month saying that even more than winning this year I wanted to finish my story because it was so terribly rewarding when I did it for the very first time last year.  Now, with only a day left and a pretty busy schedule for that day, it seems unlikely that will happen because I’m nowhere near the end so far as my story arc.  To sum up why, let me explain that my story is about a group of seniors who go to a haunted house to do a paranormal investigation and at 50k words in, I just had my first actual paranormal moment.  So, yeah- I've got a while to go.

In my frenzied, excited state I’m thinking of all variety of ways I can challenge myself to keep going and finish the thing.  I could do NaNoFiMo again like I did three years ago.  But that didn’t result in the end of that novel and ultimately just made me more frustrated.  I could extend Buddy’s hostage situation until I finish, but without a concrete end in sight that just seems sort-of silly.  I could say that I have to finish by December 5^th because that’s when the sale of the winner’s shirts ends.  Or I could come up with something so ridiculous, so devious, that I can’t even imagine it in my current elated state.

Whatever I choose, I know I have to keep going.  Because if this story deserved to reach 50k, it definitely deserves to be finished.  Wish me luck.

NaNo Magic

I spent several hours yesterday staring at my computer screen.  I'd read and re-read and re-re-read the last sentence, maybe come up with one or two more and then get stuck again.  I watched several Nanowrimo youtube videos to get in the mood.  I read pep talks.  I hoped on the twitter word sprints.  I even allowed myself to take breaks rather than beating my head against my laptop in exasperation.  Nothing worked.  And at the end of five hours when I'd planned on pumping out five thousand words in order to catch up, I had 2600 which I'd gotten through a process very similar to pulling teeth out of an alligator's mouth.  (At least I imagine.)  It was torturous.

Then today I managed to bang out 4,188 words.  Now, that is by far not my largest single-day word count ever, but it's certainly up in the top five list of word count days.  And I have no idea how I did it.

I didn't go back to my outline and flesh out my timeline anymore.  I didn't use contrived tricks to beef up my word count (some recommend not using contractions.  I don't have any characters that live in a world without contractions.)  I didn't sell my soul to Satan in exchange for words.  I just wrote.

Which leads me to believe that as much practical advice as is there is out there it's not the only thing that's going to get you to 50k.  There's a little bit of illogical, immeasurable and wonderful magic to the whole thing.  When you hit those days when the words just flow and all the questioning and doubting and judging goes away and you just type as fast as your fingers can go.  You don't worry about whether or not it's any good, you don't question whether or not it fits what you had originally contrived in your head, you just go.

Your characters' dialog comes naturally because they're starting to have their own voices as characters.  Your plot unfolds at a good pace because your words are flowing naturally.  The events that you had planned fall into place like dominoes pushing the next one down and you just let it happen.  It's the most organic way of writing I've ever encountered and I'm one thousand percent positive that I never learned how to do it- it just happens sometimes.  And I've had enough experience in this crazy noveling world not to question it or try to quantify it.  I'm just grateful for it.

Because today, for the first time since I started this thing two weeks ago I am back on par.  After spending every day of the past two weeks falling behind or staying as behind as I was I am finally back to where I need to be.  And it feels really, really good.

20,267 words and counting...

Planning Vs. Pantsing

In NaNoland, they like to talk about different kinds of wrimos.  Originally settling on two living on polar opposite ends of the spectrum, they’ve now differentiated five.  The new varieties are those overflowing with good ideas (or horrible ones, there’s not really any difference in Nano) who cannot stick to one plot, those who completely forget about the event until November first hits and then panic, and those who have all good intentions and no action and find their Novembers slipping away from them in the form of youtube videos, online games and the countless other ways that one can kill time on the internet.  But those first two- the planners and the pantsers (i.e. those who write by the seat of their pants) are the ones that have been on my mind.

I’ve never been a planner.  Not in life and most certainly not in my writing. My ideas are always amorphous blogs of stuff- some inspiration, some memories, some images and ideas from movies and books I’ve read, some daydreams, some nightmares and some of that weird mental goo that seeps out from you while you’re sitting in the car stuck in traffic.  And just like the original blob, those idea blobs can suck up whatever comes into their path and I’ll find myself including a variation of the conversation I just had or the household chore I just did in my novel.  The point is that they’re blobs- not story arcs.

When it comes to hitting 50k words this is not a problem.  In fact, it can be very helpful. You’ll write pages upon pages about all variety of stuff- some of which may ultimately end up being useful to plot or character development or theme but very little of which will actually move your story forward.  And the problem, of course, is that if you ever hope to actually get to the end of your story this method could be highly problematic.

A great demonstration of this is the fact that my first two Nanowrimo novels are both somewhere between 80k and 90k and both very far from the end despite their impressive lengths.

Last year was the first time I actually got to the end of my novel.  And I did it without bulking up the word count (final length was somewhere around 59k).  Now, I rushed to get to the end and the last few chapters probably wouldn’t make much sense upon re-read.  I undoubtedly skipped some stuff that may have been fun to write and possibly even useful for making the characters more than one dimensional.  I have no doubt that there is absolutely zero sense of flow to the story and some sections probably drone on with more detail than necessary while others flash by quicker than you can blink.  But in the end, it was still the end.  And the sense of satisfaction I got from that was unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced in writing.

Now this year, it seems like all the advice I’m getting from pep talks, youtube videos, blog posts and even newspaper articles is about how to reach the end.  The completion of the story.  The cessation of action, resolution of conflict, closing of the story arc.  The end.  So, I’m trying to reach the end of my story.

Like I did in past Nanowrimos, I have the basic arc in my head.  I have a beginning, a build up of conflict, and an idea of where I want it to end.  But all of the words and scenes and dialogues that connect those idea blobs together are unknown to me- and that’s where the pantsing comes in.  And that’s where I’m likely to fall into the trap of writing for word count rather than to move the story forward.  And that’s where I’ve been finding myself pausing and wondering “where is this going?”  At which point I will look at another youtube video or play a stupid online game I have no business playing.

There has to be some kind-of happy medium- because that’s the key to everything.  I have to be able to keep a general idea of where I’m going- a coffee-stained road map to lead me to the next plot point- while still letting the words flow.  Because what I’m doing right now isn’t working too well.  I’m not woefully behind (yet)- I’ve managed to keep myself only about a day’s worth of word count away from where I need to be.  But it has not been easy going.  And every time I’ve wondered “Where is this going?” it hasn’t helped me get to the point- it’s made me feel frustrated to the point that I procrastinate writing.  And that is not gonna get me to 50k by the end of the month.

So I’m going to try planning a bit more- see if I can’t come up with the key scenes of what need to happen to get me from where I am to where I need to be.  Something beyond the basic plot that involves more specific ideas about how my characters will interact, what will happen to them, and how they will transition to the next event.  And I will try my damndest to stay away from zuma.

If you have other suggestions of what’s helped you plot out your road map, please share them with me.  I am nothing if not open to suggestion.

Other than that, wish me luck!

Bev

(10,323 words and counting)

Franchise

Many people who are far more eloquent than I have already weighed in on this topic.  I wish I had some of their abilities.  But I’m just me.  So I’m going to talk about me.

I vote.  I vote because it is my right as a citizen of this country.  I vote because I recognize that it is my responsibility as a member of a democracy.  I vote because it’s the easiest way to tell the government that I still give a shit about what they do and will hold them accountable for it.

Some of those eloquent people I mentioned earlier have already spoken about the fact that voting is a responsibility.  And I recognize that if I expect to enjoy the benefits of a democracy that takes my voice into account then I have to participate in that government.

You wouldn’t go to a town hall meeting and complain about the fact that there’s no traffic light in that dangerous intersection if you didn’t live, pay taxes and participate in the activities of that town.  And you cannot complain about the policies of government that affect your life if you do not participate in that government.  It’s that simple.

And on a broader note, I will add that a majority of the things we’re proud of in this country- free speech, the ability to live the lifestyle that you choose, shared identify- are all based in democracy.  Voting is the first amendment.  Voting is patriotism.  Voting is being an American.  Voting is what separates us from so many people in other countries that we feel so much empathy for.  And those people have and will continue to fight wars, raise civil protest and kill for that right that is given freely to us.

So go vote if you haven’t, celebrate if you have and shut the hell up if you’re not going to.  Because if you don’t accept the responsibility of participating in this government than you have absolutely no right to state your opinion about what it does.

NaNoWriMo 2012

Obviously, writing is something that I struggle with.  As many grand ideas as I have in my head and as much of an insane need as I seem to feel to write I am constantly plagued by this “Not good enough” feeling that overwhelms me and kills my desire/ability to write.  It’s something I’ve struggled with for as long as I’ve written and after so many years of practice I have perfected the art.  It’s my own particular breed of madness.

And four years of college with amazingly gifted writers throwing every trick they knew at me wasn’t able to change that.  Feedback and support from many gifted writers I know personally wasn’t able to change that.  A write-or-die web app, intricate reward system and threat of severe consequences were not enough to change that. 

For reasons I still don’t understand, Nanowrimo changed that.  And three years running I have participated in the event, hit the 50,000 word mark within 30 days and had the unparalleled feeling of glorious, wondrous success warming my very soul.  So obviously, I’m doing it again.

Over the next 30 days I will purposefully embed myself deep in my imagination, desperately seeking out pens and keyboards to jot down my ideas as facets of my characters, plot twists and simple devices to bulk up my count occur to me.  I will sit in front of my computer screen for hours and use every procrastination device I can think of whilst trying to come up with my next scene.  I will soar above the clouds like some untouchable God when I hit my word count goal and hit the deepest recess of depression and self hatred when I don’t.  And I will drive my boyfriend, friends and family nuts worrying about me in the process.

I know that there will be moments when I will want to quit.  I will conclude that my plot (or lack thereof), my characters, my setting and my words themselves are irredeemable and I will decide that there’s no point in going on.  I will actively plan on signing off of Nano forever and may even bury my laptop under my bed because I’m so disgusted I can’t even look at the thing.  But I will always come back to it, I will always get that glimmer of hope when a new sentence arrives in my thoughts and I get it down and see that word count go up just a little bit more.  I will always be buoyed by the words of those writers who do this crazy thing with me and those now published authors who know that I can do it.  And in the end, I will hit 50,000 words. 

Stay tuned.