It Will Rain

Today I finally got word back from my first agent. As expected, it was a decline, but it was a decline accompanied by a rather nice note and some shockingly good feedback. Round 2, now--here we go!

Though I've got to admit, as prepared as I was for it, it still kinda sucks. The nausea is returning already.

Book Journal: The Blind Side

Sports literature! Love it. Michael Lewis is a pretty prolific sports writer and he's got a style that weaves fact and action pretty seamlessly.

The Blind Side by Michael Lewis

I haven't seen the movie but I feel like it's probably got to be just as good as this book. And that's not to say that this wasn't an enjoyable read. It's just that, as a story centered around sports and all themes associated with sports, there is a certain level of actual visibility that heightens it, regardless of how well a story's written.

Michael Lewis has some great research in here, and paints a great picture of the Tuohy family, making them likeable even in their Evangelical, rich South, kill-me-now kind of way. Michael Oher's story is nothing short of fascinating and an incredible beating-the-odds story that resonates on absolutely every level. That being said, Oher's story loses some momentum every few chapters, when Lewis goes into the history of the left tackle position, and of the general NCAA and NFL arenas of the time. It's necessary info, and fascinating to boot, but the occludes to Oher's progression are a little too extreme. Perhaps he could have benefited from weaving in the history more into Oher's story, so that the necessary historical and factual chapters about football itself were shorter and less of a halt in Oher's story, which is, ostensibly, the reason why people purchased the book to begin with.

7/10

Blue Shock Face Emoji

Today I received an ok from a literary agent to submit my manuscript to her. And now I've formatted it correctly and sent it to her.

Pinch me.

5 days was all it took.

Stay grounded, kiddo. You! Help me at it!

AWWW HERE GOES

Last draft.

Done.

Query submitted, agency 1.

Done.

My future.

Starting.

Book Journal: Eight Men Out

What a great read. I haven't had much literary experience in sports literature, but I picked this book out at Eagle Eye bookshop and devoured it. Asinof has a great way of writing sports literature, ending every scene, every paragraph, every chapter with a hook. The story is so touching because it is so sorrowful, especially for its two most tragic figures--Buck Weaver and Shoeless Joe Jackson.

Eight Men Out by Eliot Asinof

The Black Sox Scandal of 1919 (almost 100 years ago!!!!!) is infamous--a grimy, dirty-money scandal that lopped in a few gross figures, a few stupid ones, and two really tragic ones. Eight players are banned forever from baseball after they are involved (however directly or indirectly) with gamblers in a conspiracy to throw the 1919 World Series for money. Underpaid by their tightwad jerk of an owner, Comiskey, the players, led by ringleader Chick Gandil, desperately wanted the money their talented deserved, even if it was tainted.

The story is really tragic because of Weaver and Joe Jackson. I like to believe in Weaver's innocence and I think the evidence plays out, but even more tragic is Joe Jackson. So talented, not very intelligent, sensitive to his lack of education, he was tossed around and manipulated and threw away an incredible chance to live out his life as an amazing baseball player next to the likes of Babe Ruth. He got by played semipro baseball in anonymity and that's just heartbreaking. The saddest thing of all is that these boys just couldn't tough it out. Baseball was destined to rise; just a few more years under Comiskey's frugality and their money would have been a veritable cashflow. As tragic as it is, and as sorry I feel for Joe Jackson and Weaver, I also commend Kenesaw Mountain Landis and his stance against such a horrible situation. Perhaps one day we'll see Weaver's reinstatement, but until then, we can only look at this as a tragedy in sports. And a sign that DIRTY MONEY IS DIRTY STILL!

8/10

Book Journal: A Storm of Swords

A STORM OF SWORDS! What a great title.

A Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin

Big book but freakin' awesome. I'm at this point now of continual reading that it's becoming harder to distinguish what exactly is happening in each book, especially because the books are so long that what happens in the beginning seems a book away from what happens at the end. BUT A Storm of Swords means now--some new POV characters which is exciting, and some real schiz going down with the Lannisters and the STARKS! HOLY CRAP. Why oh why did he do that to the Starks? And OH MY GOD, the last SCENE! THE EPILOGUE! THE RESURRECTED LADY! There isn't a lot of magic in the series which I really like, and when he blends it in with his psycho religious lady Melisandre, and then with that Dondarrion fellow, it just WORKED OUT. Ah!

I found a lot of joy with Arya, Jaime, Sansa and Tyrion as usual, and particularly found Tyrion's arc tragic and sorrowful. I can only hope things will work out and that we'll see Sansa and her Hound back together soon! :)

Also, Theon, you suck, but stay strong.

9/10

My Current Booklist

As of July 2011. Bold font indicates that these books have been read!

1. The Story of English by Robert McCrum
2. The Help by Kathryn Stockett
3. The Visible World by Mark Slouka
4. A Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin
5. A Feast for Crows by George R. R. Martin
6. A Dance with Dragons by George R. R. Martin
7. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
8. Nemesis by Philip Roth
9. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
10. While We're Far Apart by Lynn Austin
11. The True Story of Hansel and Gretel by Louise Murphy
12. Transgression by James Nichol
13. Fall of Giants by Ken Follet
14. Dune by Frank Herbert
15. White Russian by Tom Bradby
16. A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley
17. A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin
18. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
19. The Yiddish Policeman's Union by Michael Chabon
20. Shogun by James Clavell
21. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
22. The Physician by Noah Gordon
23. A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin
24. The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel
25. Valley of Horses by Jean M. Auel
26. The Godfather by Mario Puxo
27. The Blind Side by Michael Lewis
28. Eight Men Out by Eliot Asinof
29. Burying the Black Sox by Gene Carney
30. Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo

Numbers 26-30 were added today after a productive visit to Eagle Eye Bookstore, the greatest place known to literary man. (Well, except for number 30, which was given to me by my mother.)

I also have owned for awhile now numbers 2, 5, 6, 14, 15, 19, 20, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. I began Shogun ages ago and lost the book when I moved into my apartment last year, but recently found it. Don't remember a damn thing so I'll have to start back up, but I wasn't more than about 200 pages into it. And it's...real long. I also quoted from The Yiddish Policeman's Union in a paper I wrote for a Jewish linguistics course I took as a sophomore but did not actually read the thing, which was a marginal regret. Not only because I got an A, somehow, but because I really like Michael Chabon and he deserves a solid read-through.

I am currently reading A Feast for Crows because...of course. But I think I'm gonna go into Eight Men Out simultaneously to spread out a bit. I don't have any qualms about reading more than one book at a time, as long as they're different enough to engage different literary interests. I.e. reading Dune and A Feast For Crows simultaneously, while really tempting, is probably not the best.

And as an added note, I would like to point out that while I might not have made a huge dent on this booklist, I have only just drafted it since July, and most of these books are well over 500 pages.

Quotes to Write By, #4

"Sisterhood is many things. It's a warm smile on a cold and rainy day, a friendly hug, a cheerful hello... It's all that a good and lasting friendship is, only better. It's treasured. It's sacred. It's knowing that there will always be someone there for you. It's dreams shared, and goals achieved. It's counting on others and being counted on. It is real."


I don't care how cheesy this quote is. I really feel it right now. The computer changes are being made, and I'm so grateful to my sorority sisters for willingness to help that I can't even truly express it.

Quotes to Write By #3

From the Hornfischer Literary Management:

"When you query agents and send out proposals, present yourself as someone who's in command of his material and comfortable in his own skin. Too many writers have a palpable sense of anxiety and insecurity. Take a deep breath and realize that--if you're good--someone in the publishing world will want you."

(As quoted from the 2011 Guide to Literary Agents, Ed. Chuck Sambuchino, 2010, p.171)


What's funny and ironic is that actually, this literary agency is not interested in the work I have produced for my first manuscript. But that still makes me feel just a little bit better, reading that. Because this process makes me feel a little nauseous, and while the reality is that it is a tough career of much rejection and a lot of luck, believing in my vocation, even through impersonal quotes, can always bring me back down to Earth.

The Home Stretch

Scene slogging done, now changing up in the word doc, then ready to send. Currently reading about query letters and publishing houses, about networking and "spreading your writing" out elsewhere.

I feel like I could throw up.

Book Journal: A Thousand Acres

A study in why Pulitzer prizes and other awards should be largely ignored. Unless you don't mind if the author writes for the critics and not the actual...readers. Hey, like my undergraduate major!


A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley

So, this book has been on my radar for some time now--probably about two years, since I took what was probably the worst collegiate Shakespearean class ever taught in the history of literature study. A modern retelling of King Lear. Yeah, okay. Let's see.

Well, to start with--yes, yes this book is, and Smiley does a pretty awesome job of sort of sublimely paralleling the stories and characters. Plot points are touched upon and the characters match up well, with, of course, the exception of the sympathy for King Lear (and the lack thereof of Larry Cook) and the decision to make sympathetic Goneril and Regan (who are decidedly undeserving of any understanding in the play).

I didn't like this book because it bored me. Smiley does a great job of having her prose echo the landscape of this dusty, very authentically-written Iowa farm field, but it was a huge, dull bore, and it's almost like Smiley realized that, which is why she put in the whole incest thing. Which...was kind of shocking, kind of not surprising, certainly tragic, and ultimately another eventual ho-hum of this book. It's probably because absolutely none of the characters are sympathetic, nor do they experience any great psychological change. I get that Smiley is trying to show that sometimes you have to be resigned to the horror that you are dealt with, but even a small cathartic moment could have been warranted.

Ginny is a pretty horrible protagonist and her cohort Rose is equally as un-compelling. One of the biggest detractors of the book, aside from the crap characters, is the fact that the bigger points, the more exciting climactic moments, are few and far between, and the stuff that is between them is really, really horribly tedious.

You know how most people (who are these people? who are "they?") say "write what you know?" Well, most writing teachers will instead say, "Know your audience." Which is exactly why the guys I know who have read this book (1) and the male reviews of this book available on the internet are less than thrilled with this story. Because while this book is essentially touted as a modern retelling of King Lear, Jane Smiley isn't so famous and well-known that most people would also kindly point out that she is a very feminist writer. So...all her male characters kind of suck. In a way that is so incredibly Lifetime Movie-like that it's kind of distracting.

This would probably have been better for me if I had read it in a discussion class. Maybe.

4/10

LAST DRAFT UNDERWAY

aghaehrglkejrghlaegealjkhg!!!

OMG please let this be the last draft.

Book Journal: A Clash of Kings

The series continues flawlessly and seamlessly with A Clash of Kings, which isn't so much a second novel in a series but rather an incredible instant continuation that is as smooth as a river's run.

A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin

The aftermath of Eddard Stark's death unfolds in the second part of Martin's epic series. It took me awhile to get through this one mainly due to my GRE--and then I slowly got back into it as I tried to mentally catch up with the first 250 pages I had read. Unlike A Game of Thrones this book doesn't hold you over quite as much (I particular found the early-middle part a little slower than others, between pages 300-450 or so) but it is still incredibly engrossing and not even the slightest bit of a letdown. As with the previous book, everyone dies, and everyone else is a little confusing (again, the wikia for this series is, like, my best friend), but the way things go is pretty fascinating: Renly vs. Stannis; Melisandre the psycho religious fanatic; Theon who sucks, sucks, sucks; Sansa and the Hound; JAIME LANNISTER APPEARS; and Jon Snow is suddenly much more boring than I realized.

Again, the action moves incredibly smoothly, this time with a good ol' Lord of the Rings-y battle at the end between Stannis and the Lannisters. That was when, as well, I realized how good Martin is about presenting all sides of a story. For me, the Lannisters are essentially villains--especially Joffrey and Cersei, who are hardly presented in a good light. They are both in direct opposition to the Starks, the clear protagonists of the first book. But the story moves on, and then Stannis--who is a villainous man capable of fratricide--is fighting the Lannisters, and idk who should win! Because I hate Stannis but I HATE Joffrey. And I love/hate Cersei, who is so interesting. At least Tyrion is okay.

Other houses are moving into the game as well--the Tyrells most notably, with Mr. Knight of Flowers/Loras/Renly's boyfriend (great subtle hints), and then the Greyjoys, but now also lesser houses like the Boltons, who I can already tell I will hate.

New favorites: The Hound. Bronn. Sansa, who I like more. Gendry. And a slew of other minor players.

I'm anxious for more developments in the call for kingdom and the other houses that will be introduced.

A solid second installment.

8/10

Word of the Day: Boulevardier

Word of the Day: Boulevardier

Definition: (n) a man-about-town
Manuscript Related Sentence: Known as 'The Itinerant Hand', Douze was also something of a boulevardier, popular especially with swashbuckling teenagers and giggling women.
Other Sentence: I like the word 'boulevardier' because it is French like my all-time favorite word, 'parapluie'.

These words are getting more and more ridiculous. 39 hours.

Word of the Day: Alpenglow

Word of the Day: Alpenglow

Definition: (n) a reddish glow seen near sunset or sunrise on the summits of mountains
Manuscript Related Sentence: The soft summits on Emsger still had an alpenglow, whose color cast a somber light over the island's demise.
Other Sentence: As a traveling, nature-driven aesthete, I look for wonders like alpenglows in the places I visit.

"Alpenglow." What a beautiful word! And yes. One of those words that's kind of like...like you'll never hear it spoken ever, and rarely seen written, but somehow it strikes you, and you'll want it to become more popular regardless. Yes, "alpenglow" falls into that category.

Book Journal: Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

Aunt Rachel would be proud.


Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

Oh god! Okay, this book was great, but the thing is, the book is about 1000 pages long (mine was 1024) and the movie is really just as good and fantastically well-cast so you could watch that and be happy too. But really you should try and read this book. It is an incredibly rich portrait of Antebellum South, which of course I really like because despite my increasingly sparse use of the word "y'all" and my sheer, unadulterated love of New England I am in love with a great deal of Southern culture and Gone with the Wind shows such a fantastic scene of how romantic and charming life was back then--barring of course the inhuman love of slavery. But the big parties, the barbeques, the neighborly love, the dresses, the accents--it was so lovely to read, and even lovelier was the parallel of Scarlett O'Hara, Ashley Wilkes, and Rhett Butler to the slalom of the South during the Civil War and Reconstruction. The symbolism is beautiful and true, not esoteric, and great because of that; that Scarlett perfectly blends the Old South (represented by Ashley Wilkes) and the new progression (represented by Rhett Butler) is so enchanting to read. Despite her shrewd, selfish nature, you root for her; you also really want her to love Rhett Butler the way you want Elizabeth to love Mr. Darcy. Just sayin'. I'll also throw in Rochester and Jane for good measure.

The 1000 pages swim by easily in a tide of detail, action, nostalgia, and forward-thinking ideas, and how vivid and rich the culture of Antebellum and postwar South is painted by Mitchell is one of the best things of all. This really is one of the best American novels ever written and anyone would be remiss to not attempt a read of this fantastic book.

9/10

Book Journal: The Clan of the Cave Bear

As mentioned in my post on The Far North by Marcel Theroux, I have this weird obsession with cold things: auroras. Snow. Ice caves. The Arctic Circle. THE ICE AGE.

And then I found this book!

So apparently Jean M. Auel's Earth's Children books have been around since the early '80s and the writing in the first book--the one I'm reviewing--is kind of indicative of it (she definitely reads like a stuffy old 1980's librarian or something and I the omniscient point of view never is my favorite) but it is still really awesome speculative alternate history and I LOVE alternate history, especially when it is imaginative and magical as this!

The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel

Okay, so, a great deal of why I chose this book is in the prelude above. I was at Eagle Eye Bookshop--the fantastic used bookstore near Emory's campus that, while at times sort of difficult to maneuver through (and they never have Mario Puzo!), has an incredible amount of diversity in its shelves. I was telling Beth how I just like settings in the far north and would love to read a book set there, preferably a more fantasy/sci-fi/historical book and THEN I saw Auel's newest book on sale. They had some of the succeeding novels in Auel's series but not the first one, so imagine my sheer joy when I went to a 10-days-and-counting Border's (sniff) in Boston and found almost all of Auel's books for 90% off--I got the hardcover for 4$. It was beautiful. Even if I will really miss Border's...

So anyway, back to the book itself. Auel's writing isn't mind-blowing, but her details speculating the forever-elusive society of the Neanderthals of Europe (this takes place at the margin of Eastern Europe and Asia) are really, really engaging--the genetic memories, the languages, the rituals, etc. The book was about 460 pages and could have been one hundred less, but it was still very entertaining. I look more forward now to Ayla (NOW I GET THE EXCELLENT REFERENCE) as she ventures out of the Neanderthal clan. She's a Cro-Magnun after all. We'll see what her adventures are. This wasn't as engaging to me as Martin's stuff but it's not a wholly fair comparison. If you can get back the omniscient POV (for some reason it bothers me), the occasional too-heavy details, and some of the fluff that comes from minor characters, it's a really engaging read. You like Ayla despite her very obvious Mary-Sue shades, and you really do root for her, especially because all the Brons and Bruns and Grogs and Norgs of the world spit on her blonde hair and blue eyes.

I bought The Valley of Horses, the sequel to it, and will read that soon; hopefully it will push me to finish up this 6-book series that has spanned some 30-odd years in the making.

Book Journal: A Game of Thrones

I kicked fiction BUTT this long Labor Day weekend traveling up to New England and resting by the 12-mile New Hampshire coast and the North End of Boston. Like legit! I read probably 1500 pages. What a good weekend across the border!

And I'll kick it off with an incredible book:

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin

WHAT AN EPIC BOOK. Oh my Gosh! George R. R. Martin knows how to produce a fantastic story. Despite the leagues of characters, the "straight into the deep end" approach he has into his entire new world, and the sophisticated level of politics that goes on through the pages (inspired by, after all, the War of the Roses), A Game of Thrones is accessible, devour-able, and completely engrossing. It's also realistic; characters come and go because of the actions of others; they are tricked; they are prideful; they are fortunate; they are interesting.

Martin also shows the POV of many different characters from different sides of the same coin. While the Stark family is clearly the protagonist (though Tyrion Lannister might be the most favored) and the Lannisters are the most defined antagonist, we still are able to see the deep, dark history that weaves all these families together and understand why these characters are doing, saying, and acting in such ways.

My favorites in a vivid and highly developed cast of characters are Jon Snow, Eddard Stark, Arya Stark, Tyrion Lannister, and Daenarys Targaryen. I hate the Lannisters. And the fat king who died. But beware; Martin kills off characters as quickly as he introduces new ones. Here's hoping I don't get too attached to one, or else it'll be like Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix all over again...

The books are reminiscent of the scope and design of The Lord of the Rings, only without the tradition-starting slew of immortal elves, orcs, Saurons, Gandalfs, etc. Magic exists but it is mythical and mysterious; only a select few can use it, and it certainly doesn't seem all that helpful yet. There are undead ice-men walking around north of The Wall but no signs of orcs; there are direwolves but no elves yet; and hopefully it will pretty much stay that way. In addition, Martin's writing is far more accessible than Tolkien's. To be far, I did love The Hobbit, but I read all of The Fellowship of the Ring and about a third of The Two Towers before I had to shelve the series. Maybe I'll get back to them but for now I'm going straight to A Clash of Kings.

9/10

I Forgot About You, Screenplay

I like background noise a lot, whether I am reading, studying, cleaning, or just lounging around. There's a reason why I was asked to leave the Matheson Reading Room freshman year of college.

So as I study for the 3 weeks left, I usually play iTunes, though sometimes I stream on Netflix--usually things I have seen fairly frequently (like Jaws) or silly, nostalgic cartoons (like Hey Arnold!). Having something going on the background keeps me grounded. But over the past two days I've been streaming stuff I have yet to see. Thankfully as I am not memorizing vocabulary or roots anymore, and rather I am just practicing algebra and geometry and reviewing the analytical writing strategies, I can focus on the movies without much repercussion. Over the past few days I've watched:

Schindler's List
The Silence of the Lambs
Kramer vs. Kramer
The Graduate
some Hey Arnold! episodes
the first act of The Usual Suspects

I quit watching The Usual Suspects because I wasn't focusing on it and I felt that was a movie I should pay attention to, so I'll return to it later, but I have to say, I really enjoyed all of the films I watched. Schindler's List was nothing short of phenomenal, and I found The Silence of the Lambs enthralling. The Graduate and Kramer vs. Kramer were both good movies that deserved the praise they received, but I was more attuned to Dustin Hoffman's acting than the actual plots of the movies (though Kramer vs. Kramer was very touching).

It made me think back to my screenwriting year--the good and the bad seminars--and I really miss my screenplay! One day I'll get back to it, just to finish it, to keep having it. Sure, I've got dreams of selling that too, but dreaming too much about my future as a writer will inevitably make my head explode/my heart crap out/my search for a good graduate program doing...something...all the more tragic.

Word of the Day: Abattoir

Word of the Day: Abattoir
Definition: (n) A slaughterhouse
Manuscript Related Sentence: Emsger had become an abattoir, the innocent lives laying on the streets lifeless and bloody.
Other Sentence: Despite my self-proclaimed literary snobbery, I have not yet read

Abattoir-Cinque Slaughterhouse-Five. :)

I particularly like this word because it is French, and the French language is so beautiful--after all, my favorite word ever is French: parapluie, which means "umbrella." But seriously--/abba-twah/. It's amazing to me that a word with such a negative definition can be so verbally aesthetic.

On a Completely Snotty Note...

I have a lot more faith in myself when I study the Analytical Writing Foundations and Content section of the Revised GRE Study Guide and think to myself, "People actually make these mistakes?" I know that's really uppity and snotty. But it kind of makes me feel...better.

I miss my manuscript.

Book Journal: The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games! A little fluttering on the wind that is steadily grasping attention. Now if there's one thing I like, it's highly envisioned action, which means that I really like The Hunger Games on a technical level. It surely isn't a perfect novel, with its flaws pretty obvious, but I have only read this first one in the trilogy, after all. In any event, this book has inspired a "list" review.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

1. Why, why on Earth is this book written in present tense? I understand the pretense for action and thus the inclination to use it, but present tense is so....Well, for fiction, it's just kind of forced. It's great for academics, it's great for verbal storytelling, but I think present tense in fiction doesn't allow the reader to ever delve into the character or the events. For a book focused solely on action, like The Hunger Games, it's not such a big deal, but it is noticeable nonetheless. It certainly gives the book a more "tell" than "show" vibe, but for a book that reads more like a video game, again...whatever.

2. What the hell was Collins thinking when she named her characters? Now, I'm all for weird names, especially names with meaning (Katniss comes from the katniss plant found in Appalachia, the region Katniss Everdeen is from...yes I get it)...but... her name is Katniss Everdeen. What a lame, lame name. And her friends are Peeta (which is...Indian?) and Gale? And then everyone in the capital has a Latin name (Cinna, Caesar) to parallel how ahead of the game Rome was back in the day, especially compared to all the "barbaric" regions around it? These names blow. Hard.

3. At least in Book 1, the characters are all pretty thinly drawn. Katniss is most developed, but that isn't saying much. Gale and Peeta are stick figures of characters, and Cinna and Katniss's relationship is beyond forced upon the reader.

4. The copy-editing is borderline atrocious. That's not Collins' fault though. C'mon, Scholastic, I get that all your time and energy goes to Harry Potter but cut the rest of us writers some slack, would you?

5. The action is incredibly awesome-paced. This book goes down like water.

6. A giant arena that changes setting!!!!! HOLY CRAP THAT IS SO COOL! IT'S A DREAM FOR AN IMAGINATION LIKE MINE!

Rating: 7/10

Word of the Day: Veracity

Well today I finally finished my 500 words for the GRE. Now it's time to just review, review, review, and brush up on my Latin roots.

Oh, and math. But...eh.

Yes!

Word of the Day: Veracity
Definition: (n) Filled with truth and accuracy
Manuscript Related Sentence: Not one member of the coterie, perhaps save Rafni, is truly for veracity.
Other Sentence: In novels, authors often strive for veracity in their themes and symbols.

Word of the Day: Tyro

Word of the Day: Tyro
Definition: (n) Beginner; novice
Manuscript Related Sentence: Though a tyro at football, Rafni's physical prowess gave him proclivity.
Other Sentence: Jillian is a tyro of writing novels, but is ever-hopeful for a bright future of written success.

Word of the Day: Peregrinate

Word of the Day: Peregrinate
Definition: (V) To wander from place to place; to travel, especially on foot.
Manuscript Related Sentence: Feya would peregrinate across England after the loss of Landess.
Other Sentence: Link from the Legend of Zelda is the prime example of the peregrinating hero, wandering aimlessly to find stuff to beat the bad guy and save the princess.


I just couldn't resist.

Book Journal WR: Lost Lands, Forgotten Realms

An enjoyable chapter romp through "sunken continents, vanished cities, and the kingdoms that history misplaced" that is ripe for inspiration but occasionally hard to sift through with its overlong paragraphs and lack of geographical organization.

Lost Lands, Forgotten Realms by Dr. Bob Curran
I enjoyed this and it had a lot of nice illustrations, in addition to covering quite a huge scope of these vanished moments in history. The writing left something to be desired. While the research was extensive and Dr. Curran did a good job of drawing parallels from multiple sources, it could have been a bit more broken up and organized, and there were quite a few noticeable typos (not really his fault, but still). Additionally, he has an annoying habit of ending each chapter and each section with a kind of speculative, esoteric statement: "perhaps that was all there was" type things. It didn't jar with the direction of the book--this was less scientific and more holistic of what these places were, and then drew parallels between mythological or folklorish cultures of many people--but it kind of killed it for a bit.

I'd recommend, again, for quick reads with chapters, but I do believe there is likely to be more thorough accounts of these things. Still, there were many different histories I hadn't yet heard, and I noted quite a few interesting things in its pages.

6.5/10

Book Journal WR: History's Mysteries: People, Places, and Oddities Lost in the Sands of Time

You'll see a lot of Book Journal WRs of this nature and to be fair, they're all really starting to blend in to me as well. For instance I don't remember much about this except it provided some rather in-depth and less speculative chapters on a select number of stories that stand out amongst a timeline we are familiar with. I read through it quickly and marked a couple of interesting notes.

History's Mysteries: People, Places, and Oddities Lost in the Sands of Time by Brian Haughton
Continuing my foray into esoteric and speculative history, I chose first to read this book (and subsequently took to Amazon.com to purchase a slew of other history (both real and speculative) after finishing it) and found it pretty decent. As with interest in this kind of genre, a lot of it is speculative, but Haughton is perhaps more satiating in his writing: he offers several explanations, many of which are very grounded in certain historical aspects, and doesn't linger on the esoteric nature of these kinds of topics. And also with books like these, it isn't necessary to read through the whole thing; selecting chapters that interest you will certainly give you a decent, 200-level introduction into the topic (I particularly found his chapter on Lyonesse interesting), but because it covers a few topics, people particularly interested in one specific notion should look elsewhere for a more in-depth study.

7/10

I need to find this book. It's with Song of Roland somewhere...

Book Journal WR: Song of Roland

My days of no-touch-manuscript are filled with mini writing exercises and a crap ton of "research readings," if you will. Most of this writing research--hence the WR in the title--is me continuing my career of being a dilettante, trying to pinpoint names, places, connections, inspirations, and overall thematics for the many, many worlds I've got to become familiar with. And a crap ton of chicken scrawls in margins of a ton of looseleaf papers I only marginally have a grasp on.

Anyway I read The Song of Roland over my Seabrook vacation. I'd never read it in high school and took to it pretty easily. I had some Penguin version (I think, and I misplaced my copy of it while I was cleaning so I can't confirm, especially now that I don't think it was actually a Penguin version at all) and the translation was pretty good. It's sort of the same as most medieval and pre-medieval epic poems--a lot of battles, a lot of cool men doing brave things, and a lot of sludge you have to sift through to get to the action.

Song of Roland by French Folklore

I'm a fan of these epic old poems and I've read most of them, even if I can't remember exactly what happens in each of them, and most of my memory is extracurricular fantasy (i.e. Beowulf, Gilgamesh, the Odyssey, et. al.). Song of Roland will likely fall into that category eventually but for me, it isn't the details about those stories that are worthwhile. It's really easy to get swept into them because you have to instantly become an audience for those poems--that is, when you read them, you are suddenly an individual of that time--in this case, a young French woman during Charlemagne's rule. And you have to think of context: the Crusades (or the precursor to them) against the Saracens, the good ol' swords that are all-powerful, and the single-minded bravery (or jealously) that is deemed so powerful a motivation. In a modern era of literature that is very introspective, very character-driven and oftentimes very dark, it can be very refreshing to harken back to the hero's journey in one of its earlier forms, and recognize how much we all love to experience that journey with those characters. Look at what are the most popular books, movies, and video games, and tell me they all aren't, ultimately, a quintessential "hero's journey."

Update: it was a Penguin version.

8/10

Word of the Day: Peripatetic

Since I'm studying for the GRE (and by studying I mean I am actually studying, unlike last summer) I'm of course working to expand my vocabulary with a slew of both familiar, unfamiliar, and WTH words. I'm taking a different approach now, using my GRE Exam Vocabulary-In-A-Box words and writing down the definitions and an example sentence in a notebook...but my example sentence relates directly and only to my manuscript.

It's making studying not only far better and more manageable, but it's also helping with my off-writing time, developing characters, new ideas, reformatting old ones, etc. As I'm still off duty now, awaiting feedback from my two readers, I also get kind of anxious, and this is a good way to help keep my mind fresh on my ideas without it directly portending to things in my manuscript. So I keep my GRE stuff out to study, my manuscript stuff out to jot down notes and ideas, and my iPod headphones on to the instrumental genre for a nice atmospheric effect.

I even sometimes look forward to studying. Of course that will change when it comes time for the math part.

Word of the Day: Peripatetic
Definition: (Adj.) Wandering from place to place, especially on foot.
Manuscript Related Sentence: Thierry lives a transitory life as a peripatetic ex-warrior.
Other Sentence: Link from the Legend of Zelda is the prime example of a peripatetic hero, wandering aimlessly to find stuff to beat the bad guy and save the princess.

Book Journal: Water for Elephants

So...I think there's a reason why most of the people who know and love this book are...older.


Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
Okay, let me start off by saying: I liked this book. I did. It's incredibly well-researched; not once do you feel like this is fabricated or a stretch. Gruen really did her stuff, and I admire her for it. The characters are engaging and the environment rich. It was a good book. I am not 100% sure why it is as beloved as it is, and I'll say that now. BUT, it has everything that makes it a good story, and I'll certainly praise it for that.

The story follows this young vet who loses his parents and then his money. Then he runs away and joins a circus. Yes, it's kind of like that. But it's pretty realistic nonetheless. He lucks out because he's educated during the Great Depression/Prohibition, and he meets all these wacko circus people, the most enchanting of which are the midget and August, a schizo who isn't quite as engaging or interesting a schizo as Nathan Landau but come on, that's hardly a fair comparison. Jacob Jakowski is pretty cute as well, and Marlena, though not exactly the greatest female protagonist, is certainly sustainable in her role. I also quite liked the elephant in the story, and while I do believe it was a bit of a wasted opportunity for deeper symbolism and theme, it certainly served as a good indication about the characters of Jacob and August.

I think why older readers enjoy this so much is that there is a powerful element of nostalgia in the book--which, of course, is something I'm tackling in my own draft. I liked how Gruen handled it; it wasn't overly sentiment, and it wasn't nauseating, but it was real and truthful and I liked it a bit. However, it doesn't represent a part of me I can focus on now. Leaving home and being stripped of all they love--it's a story that, on some level, everyone can relate to, including myself, but in this time of positivity and forward-thinking and excitement and hopeful attempt, I perhaps didn't connect with it quite as much as I could have--though that isn't any fault of Gruen's.

I think this may be a case of that rare "the movie is just as good or even better" than the book.

6.5/10

Book Journal: Far North

North Asia?! Tough survival? Imagination? So there! For the most part.

Far North by Marcel Theroux
This book isn't bad by any means. In fact, I'd call it a pretty good parable about what might happen with climate control, even if that notion wasn't quite as drilled into the story as I would have liked. Most people know I've got this weird thing about the Far North/cold tundra areas/Russia and Alaska/the northern lights so this book grasped me solely for that reason, with the climate change aspect a much-enthused bonus. It's similar to The Road by Cormac McCarthy which I have never read but am familiar with, so maybe you can draw your own opinions there?

I read it in a day and it was pretty engaging. The story features an okay narrator, a tough talking, grizzly female (a shocker) narrator named Makepeace who lives alone (due to famine and drought) in this little town, believing she's all that's left, until she spots a plane and tracks it. She gets caught up along the way and has to suffer for it, going into this Chernobyl-esque town and then meeting an old enemy, and then returns. I'd say the book falls a little short on development as a whole, which is the only thing that really kept it from being an earth-shattering, end-of-days tale. The characters aren't so developed; you stick with Makepeace because she's tough and she's tramping through Asia no matter what, but you aren't that engaged with her. The plot isn't so developed; you get the loose threads and you have a story, but there isn't enough emotional drive to what's happened in the world so make it wholly engaging. And that's because the climate change issues aren't developed enough. Could've been a real winner but falls a little short.

6.5/10

Book Journal: Sisterhood Everlasting (Spoiler)

I fully admit to being a literary snob but I do enjoy a lot of light reading with engaging, real-life situations, and I remember tuning into Brasheras's Sisterhood series as a teenager. When I saw she had published a fourth (fifth?) one, I grabbed it and finished it in a few hours. Brasheras for me is kind of like the Shrek movies; she started off strong, maintained it in the second book, and then crashed deeply in the subsequent stories, and this path continued it.

Sisterhood Everlasting by Ann Brasheras
It's hard for me to remember what happens in each individual book, and part of that is because of the movies, which sort of combined a lot of their elements. But I do remember two things: 1) Lena and Kostos are meant to be and two) Bridget is kind of annoying. Well those things proved true in this book and they kind of kept me on.

First of all there is a huge spoiler and I'm sorry but it needs to be said: Tibby is dead. There's a red herring leading throughout and it's kind of shocking, but the thing is, this book comes so much later after most people really care about these girls anymore that it isn't that big of a deal. And anyway, it's Tibby...for me anyway, Brasheras seemed to like her least of all (maybe that's why she killed her?) so she never had the same enchantments as her fellow sisters. And I do think that's Brasheras's fault. Bridget was electrifying in that kind of "what the hell are you doing?!" kind of way, and Lena was so interesting with her hot Greek lover, and Carmen was that friend that everyone has and so you loved her anyway. Then there was Tibby. So the death? It's kind of whatever. It isn't until the book ends that you realize it's powerful in a way that shatters their image of a perfect friendship.

Secondly, Carmen is unidentifiable as a skinny New York actress who kind of sucks. So you don't like her anymore. Lena is exactly the same and the resurrected Kostos arc is what kept me interested throughout the entire story. And Bridget is the same too--you know, she acts like a 13 year old, even though she's 30 (?!), and does something kind of epic that you wanna see what happens. If anything the Kostos arc will keep you grounded into this story.

Essentially the death comes early and the rest of it is how the girls deal with it, and then coming to terms about how their lives have arrived at this point, and then at the very end, realizing they won't grow old together, is the emotional heart of it, that unfortunately is missing in a great deal of the body of the book. I blame the amount of years between the books, the movies, and to an extent Brasheras's own treatment of her characters, who she obviously loves and knows well, but for some reason fall short in this installment.

5/10

Book Journal: Pillars of the Earth

I finished this 950 page book in 2 and a half days. Need I say more?

Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follet

This book is amazing. There is little else to say. But I'll concede to talking about it because it is just so, so good.

First of all, I had eyed this book for awhile, but usually pulled away for it for two reasons: one, the book sleeve doesn't exactly make is seem that interesting (yes, it is about building a cathedral, but there is so, so much more to it, that that description does it no justice whatsoever). Two, at nearly 1000 pages, its length was simply too much for me to handle in college. Between reading and writing for all of my classes and the haphazard schedule of any college co-ed, I didn't want to start it up, get into it, have to shelve it for a bit, and then go back to it half a year later and start over again.

But now I see the error of my ways. I believe I would have holed up in my apartment for a week straight to finish this amazing book. And what's amazing about it? Simply that Follet, sort of like Rowling, is just a good storyteller, and thus the kind of guy I really look up to. Sure, Maguire and Golden and others have a way with words as well, and one that I hope I can grow into, but the story is where the heart is, and Follet knows it. Follet writes to entertain, which is my goal as well. And he does that well. The villains are heinous, the heroes engaging, the world realistic and well-researched. There is drama, action, romance; there are touching scenes and there are sickening ones. It's just got everything in it! And that's why it rocks!

Not to mention Follet keeps the pace going with crisp, easy, intelligent writing. He eschews the esoteric nature of Maguire for pacing effects and in a case like this it absolutely works. I'll return to this one day, for sure.

9.5/10

Book Journal: Mirror, Mirror

Gregory Maguire has an incredible way with words. Though at times his sentences are overly esoteric, his descriptions, his syntax, his vocabulary are striking, almost magical, and truly aesthetic--in writing, in font, in presentation. This is most apparent in his fairy tale retelling. I absolutely adore his writing style, and note his books Mirror, Mirror and Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister as two of my favorite reads. While I am not at all a fan of his Wicked series, these two fairy tale retellings far outweigh my opinions of his stories of Elphaba and Oz.

Mirror, Mirror by Gregory Maguire
An adult retelling of the Snow White fairytale, set in Renaissance Italy and incorporating real-life figures like Lucrezia and Cesare Borgia, Mirror, Mirror is a poignant and well-written examination of beauty. The shifting perspectives, the scope of characters, even the marginally unsustainable belief that Don Vicente would go search for a sprig from the Tree of Life (this somehow jarred more than the notion of the earthen gnome-dwarves living in Montefiore) make this an enchanting read.

I don't believe this is quite as strong as Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, which I believe is far and away his best. As stated, Maguire's writing is beautiful--and sometimes too much so. When he falls too deep into trying to paint his words on his paper canvas, it can be very difficult to define what is actually happening in the scene or where it takes place, let alone pull a theme from it. Still, it is only so often that occurs, and for the most part, I was deeply involved in the medieval world he created.

While I wouldn't recommend this before Confessions, I would suggest someone read this to get a glimpse of Maguire's prose and his masterful command of perspective. Adult retelling of fairytales can be extremely hit or miss, and Maguire has done a good job with this one.

8/10

Quotes to Write By #2

http://www.usatodayeducate.com/staging/index.php/the-10-best-american-colleges-for-writers


Okay, I'm not going to lie. This is really, REALLY surprising to me. Of course, in the CW program's defense, this is mainly geared towards English classes, and thus a "general acquirement of knowledge" in regards to what makes a novel/story/etc. successful. And for that, it's definitely true. I can also attest there was never more than like 23 people in any of my English classes, but to be honest I always thought that was due to lack of interest. Or the sheer number of pre-professionals at Emory.

For the most part I enjoyed all of my Creative Writing classes and I certainly learned a lot from them. That being said, there is still a fine line between being a good writer, technically, and being a good writer, period. I of course like to think I am both; I am sure there are others who disagree (as is the case with every writer, period). But it also brings about another concern: writing in the digital age. Well, I mainly post this for what I'm referencing below, because it just makes me so happy!

Excerpt from Student ink: Emory tops list of best colleges for budding writers

Writing in the digital age

The information revolution has helped Emory's budding writers bypass traditional publishing channels to gain recognition beyond campus. Print-on-demand opportunities level the playing field for solid writers who may be missing the right connections.

While the digital explosion has produced a growing pool of writers, readers are increasingly time-strapped and bombarded from every angle, notes Izmaylov.

"Now, everyone has a chance. But, at the same time, how do you choose?" she says.

Grimsley, for one, isn't worried that novice writers and bloggers water down the profession as a whole. "Good writing will always rise to the top," he says.

"It's not a new phenomenon. People have been calling themselves writers for as long as I've been teaching," he explains. "The digital age just makes it noisier."

Draft 2

Done. Sent to friend. Awaiting criticism of all shapes and sizes.

The OCD in me is wondering...do I begin writing in this new journal? Should I categorize my journals? What about the binder I have for my two projects? Does anyone get like that or is it just me?

That's a stupid question. I know at least four people who are like that and worse.


But in other words WAHOO! I'm working well with time, I think! God knows I was going absolutely insane preparing Draft 2.

Draft 2 is Underway

Yeesh!

20 pages in.

My silicon protector (which is purple and does protect my keys quite well) is hard to type on and I think could be an early onset contributor to carpal tunnel.

The Woman from Heaven

I did not win. I did not expect to, as I am well aware of my shortcomings as a short fiction writer (and also the fact that most short fiction is pretentious suck). However the only award I have ever won is Employee of the Month at American Eagle. Someday I'll get another one. Maybe?

Here is my entry for the creative writing contest.

The Woman from Heaven

There had been fanfare, and fans. Outside, where the sunlight could stream, beneath the arching folds of a canvas ceiling, dancing off the glinting happiness of those in the rink and those surrounding it. Handcrafted stages, tightropes that crossed below the cloud-woven grounds of heaven: that is where she used to dance as the Woman from Heaven. That is where she once found home. She, the Woman from Heaven, who would descend from the cloud-woven grounds to the earth below. She, the Woman from Heaven, the angel sent from tightrope above, floating, falling, a dance downwards with fanfare, to her fans, their cheers and cries a hark of heralding. Those days were stolen from her long ago, wrought from beneath her feet by a red velvet curtain and a camera lens. A grand stage, a pinstriped tent, collapsing into a pile of dust, destroyed by a Californian earthquake sprung from the south as quick as an acrobat. Destroyed by an unnumbered street in a city that never dared to sleep. The very curtain she stood behind—a testament of the time.

From behind that curtain she sprung on stage, arms outstretched and feet feather-light, dancing for the empty world before her. She closed her eyes and drew her arms close, angel’s wings enveloping her in warmth, taking her back, behind her closed eyes, to her handcrafted stage. The sun streamed through, the spotlight on her. She flew across the stage, an elegant angel, feet and fingers painting a show to the breathless gasps and shouts of an enchanted crowd. They gasped, they cheered, they shouted; a very choir of hallelujahs, singing as the sun shone down from heaven. She twisted and twirled, gliding across wood as if gliding across string, bending and dipping, curving as a feather in the wind. Their applause resounded, echoing to the furthest edge of the world; and she danced, and danced, spinning, spiraling—and then the sharp sound of a door closing. A cacophonous cry, a door slamming shut the path between two worlds; she stirred her from her reverie, and she stopped, alone on a dark stage.

The stage performance ended that night, and the audience trickled out, a stream of top hats and fur coats for a bitter winter. Never did the audience stay for the celebration of art’s completion—off to bar and lounge, brief conversation of an actress’s nuance here, an actor’s delivery there, scotch and Chambord and good company kept of most heightened importance. The stage on which she stood, an examination of talent, but never an invitation towards it—so unlike her reverie as The Woman from Heaven, beneath the canvas ceiling, her fluttering arms inviting the crowd to waltz with her. Here in a dark theater, the people only watched; content to forever do so, to critique from a distance. The audience left, and she remained, for every dark night, alone and abandoned. But it was in that solitude that her wings took flight, and to the stage she took, performing again.

What is an actress who cannot float, who cannot move as if a woman from heaven? Words could instill such emotion in the hearts of an audience, but she needed no words—none at all. Let them be amazed not by her speech craft, but by her body—as The Woman from Heaven, descending from cloud-woven grounds to bless them with her gift—how she tiptoed on thin rope, her balance impeccable; how she spun and swirled, her movements, inhuman. She stood on the stage, pale lights upon her, casting a light of death on her frail frame, wingless now, starved of stage. But she swept forward again, weak and pale, arms outstretched towards the sun. There it was again—her otherworldly spotlight, illuminating her otherworldly gift. And the crowd she envisioned behind closed eyes—they roared, they cheered, as she danced for them again, arms as wings, the stage a tightrope, high above the ground, high into the heavens. She saw it before her, her heavenly dance—and the crowd around her, who came from the furthest corners of new continent to see it. Her eyes are clothes, and there it is: delicate atop the tightrope she dances—arching, curving, twisting, angel wings reflecting the light from above. She leaps; she spins, tiptoeing the clouds, captivating, as all hold their breaths at the smallest sight of strain. And then she finishes her cloud-floor waltz, and prepares for her leap to the Earth…. The spotlight shut off and she stumbled to her hands and knees. Gasping, she stared at the stage floor, its hard, lifeless wood cold to the touch.

In Hollywood, on Broadway, after the performance—that was when the sorrow came. Snuffed out were the bright lights that made so dead the appearance of an actress, caked in powder and rouge, those spotlights and floodlights. The warmth of the crowd escaped with their exit, the drafty halls cold as soon as the gilded doors splayed open. The clean-up help, gone with the curtain drawn; all that was left was she, lonesome on a lightless stage. No one could see her; no one would see her. Once where she danced as the Woman from Heaven, and fated now as a woman of keys, securing the doors of dressing rooms, of blinding lights and stage supplies. How unglamorous she had become, untalented and unclean, a mere sliver of her former self. Heaven help her, to draw her up.

She closed her eyes and drew herself up, her tumble vivid in her mind: the dance towards Earth, the most elegant fall, caught in the arms of her partner on the ground. Where was he now? His tanned arms, so strong, angel wings too—a protector. Dark eyes that shone with the vigor of Vaudeville—where did that vigor go? Lost to the western desert with him? And she remained here, in vigorous naïveté, grasping helplessly for one brief glimmer of a dance. She moved across the stage, eyes turned skyward towards the rafters that blocked the sun. She would leap from them in emulation, to perfect her ethereal performance, the last—the last of which would shame her to her end. The rafters of the stage, black as night. The theater dark as the day the curtain fell, so they say in Hollywood, on her last dance—her heavyhearted last dance. At the end of it, a half-turn instead of a full—imperfect, her last routine, as haunting a thought as the heavy beams above her. If only, she thought.

Keys jingled at her hip, the one to the dressing room sharp at her side. The actress, she left, her furs cascading down her back like tears upon a cheek. Filtered cigarette and playwright lover at her hand, their warmth, too, gone from the stage, gone from the theater. Up at the heavy wooden ceiling she looked; always an impediment to heaven’s sunlight, it was, the rafters above her like a wooden cage, and she, a clipped canary. Did the actress not realize—it was her time, now? To seize her art and transcend it on stage? Tears streamed down the hollow cheeks of the Woman from Heaven before she suddenly ran—fast as soft footsteps could manage, behind the stage, towards the machinery—unstable, rickety…and she climbed up, towards heaven, atop the rafters, in her mind, now, a tightrope: her stage, her chance to redeem her last performance.

The rafters stung like black ice on her feet; and did not heat travel skywards, so they said? The sound of the theater door opened and she heard someone cry out, anguished and anxious, calling out to her from far below. But she closed her eyes and stood once more on clouds—softly spun and white as snow, gentle as a child’s cheek. And the sun came down again, her spotlight, and she stepped forward gently, tender on the tightrope. Her tears dried. Vaudeville, what was your doom? You voice muted—voix de ville!—with the sounds of T-Models, of actresses shrill. Silence the noise, silence the crowd—take away their breath as she prepares for her downward dance. Into his arms; how he waited for her, stretched out to the sky, to embrace her and launch her up again, back to heaven. She felt the tears fall again on her face—cold, sorrowful, an icy stream down her sallow skin. The voice in the theater still called out to her, nervous, scared, echoing emotions she would no longer feel. She had not been able to perfect her final return to the Earth—the full turn, the full, not the half—and how it haunted her. But she would now, if she closed her eyes, and opened up the sky for the sun.

The theater filled again with the caught gasps of an entranced crowd—no longer scared, the voice, but now excited, she would pretend; and down below no more cold stage ground, but the arms—the arms of a man to catch her, embrace her, return her to heaven.

She leapt off the tightrope, feet in place, sprung from their trained steadfastness. Down below, to the man whose arms spread wide for her, to the warm that would welcome her, the Woman from Heaven, to Earth. She was the Woman from Heaven, and she would dance her final dance perfectly. At final full turn on earth, before she would return upwards, flying on her angel wings, with fanfare, to her fans above, their cheers and cries within her mind a hark of heralding.

Book Journal: Congo

I like Michael Crichton. I like books that are entertaining the entire way through, and that take you only like three hours to read. I like books that are well researched, even if they aren't plausible. Thus I enjoy a great deal of Michael Crichton.

Congo by Michael Crichton

My favorite is Timeline, then probably The Andromeda Strain, followed by Jurassic Park. (Which is also a favorite film.) Congo wasn't great, by his standards. It was usual Crichton fare: the occasionally indecipherable science, the adventure, the show-and-tell characters. And given its setting--the Congo, the heart of Africa!--you'd think I'd devour it. I did not. I finished it quickly enough--it's just at about 310 pages--and it was exciting, but the characters were more lacking than usual this time, and the unexplained origin of the gorilla-human-chimp hybrid things and their significance (and also their violence) left a little to be desired. I'd say pass this one up in favor of a significant portion of his repertoire, including the aforementioned. Still, when the sun's broiling and lazy days are ahead, there's no complaints about the kind of read it's supposed to be.

6/10

"Ceasefire" by Michael Longley

Michael Longley, "Ceasefire"

I
Put in mind of his own father and moved to tears
Achilles took him by the hand and pushed the old king
Gently away, but Priam curled up at his feet and
Wept with him until their sadness filled the buidling.

II
Taking Hector's corpse into his own hands Achilles
Made sure it was washed and, for the old king's sake,
Laid out in uniform, ready for Priam to carry
Wrapped like a present home to Troy at daybreak.

III
When they had eaten together, it pleased them both
To stare at each other's beauty as lovers might,
Achilles built like a god, Priam good-looking still
And full of conversation, who earlier had sighed:

IV
'I get down on my knees and do what must be done
And kiss Achilles' hand, the killer of my son.'


I don't like poetry and have never pretended to. I'm not horrible at analyzing it, but I am lazy at analyzing it--most of the time, more incorrigible lines and stanzas annoy me, rather than entice me.

But there is something o be said with some poetry, though. Even if it is more poetic, prettier in sound, and still so different from a novel, a screenplay, whatever--you always want a line like that last one, one that means everything, means the world, in 2 lines.

The Cinema Story

Movies are stories, too, and for the most part are damn good ones. They are just an external story, a visual one--in contrast to the novel, which is internal, mental. Both "show" the viewer, the reader, what it's all about.

I have watched a shell-shocking 4 never-before-seen films in the past 24 hours:

1) Boyz in the Hood
2) The Shining
3) Bonnie and Clyde (jeez, Warren Beatty, you looked GOOD)
4) The Poisedon Adventure (1972 version)

I'm a little movie'd out, but I'm still probably going to watch Rudy later tonight.

As I write my screenplay for my screenwriting class, and occasionally daydream about a lucrative screenwriting career as well, I think back to all these movies I've now seen and think about what makes them work, or not work, or what is super effective, etc. It's pretty great research--I mean, watching movies? Sign me up.

Here are what I can think of as being my favorite movies, top 10:

10. Mean Girls
9. The Godfather
8. All About Eve
7. La Vita E Bella (Life is Beautiful)
6. Titanic
5. Jaws
4. The Lion King
3. The Dark Knight
2. How to Train Your Dragon
1. Nuovo Cinema Paradiso

Quotes to Write By #1

"Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." E. L. Doctorow.

Book Journal: Star of the Sea

I enjoy novels that take a step outside the box--especially with formatting. We all know that nearly everyone in the USA is ADD, somehow, and whether they were part of the over-diagnosed crowd a few years ago or not. So when books like Star of the Sea by Joseph O'Connor takes a bit of a borrow from 19th-century title headers (Roman numerals, chapter summaries), point of view shifts, and ship logs, the book is entertaining, at least for face value.

Stops there, though.

If there's one thing that frustrates me, it's when professors beat a book to death, trying to draw a lot more from them than what is actually there. In fact, the whole idea of literary criticism is kind of like that, but for the most part, literary criticisms focuses on books that want to be critically read. I don't doubt that Joseph O'Connor was like that in his book, but it really wasn't especially well-done, and the jump-happy plot didn't really settle to make any message especially poignant.

Star of the Sea by Joseph O'Connor

Another account of the Irish turmoil of the late 1800's, O'Connor blends together several main protagonists to weave a story of personal trouble during political upheaval and the Irish potato famine. Set about the passenger ship Star of the Sea, the story is broken into chapters that switch point of views between characters such as Pius Mulvey, a killer; Lord Merridith, a pathetic nobleman; Mary Duane, some chick who is inexplicably irresistible, "a footnote in everyone else's story;" and Dixon, the American narrator. None of these characters holds enough sway for the reader and I could care less about them throughout the entire time, even as O'Connor tries to establish a "literary care" for them--the pathetic man, the weak man, "the dark soul of the night." Whatever you call it. He jumps around happily between present day and past, between narrators and settings, and is never able to really define these characters so that the reader cares for them.

The Plot B, about the murder aboard the ship, is clearly an afterthought of O'Connor's, and does not resonate within the reader. The unfolding of the characters is uninteresting because the characters are.

I give O'Connor props for his inventive formatting, harking back to Mark Twain & co., and the careful detail of the ship logs and historical backdrop that he clearly cared for. The writing is intelligent and fluid. However, the plot flaws are too great to really sustain his writing. Had his characters been more stirring it would have been a good book; but given that his novel is completely character-driven anyway, it fails to really stir in individuals. To echo a reviewer on Amazon, "The only thing rolling is the sea." Not once did I care about what happened next.

5/10

It's Depressing, So I'd Like to Win

There's kind of a running joke in the Emory creative writing cycle that everyone thinks good writing=depressing writing. Pretty sure that isn't just an Emory thing; Blake Snyder reports in his explanation of The Beat Sheet that out of 50 screenplays in one of his classes, 46 of them ended in death, destruction, or loss.

I think that's because everyone plays to the pathos of death--they sort of prey on our ability to be moved by death. The problem is twofold: one, if you don't care about it anyway, then death doesn't mean much (Kenny?); two, that is just plain lazy writing. A happy ending written well could move anyone to tears, if delivered right and established throughout the context of the story. And what's wrong with a happy ending? I love happy endings.

So anyway, I caved and wrote a really depressing piece for Emory's Creative Writing Contest. I have entered this contest once before, I believe, with zero expectation in winning. This is because not only are there people who are better writers than me, but also because I am a terrible short story writer, and Emory is obsessed with the short story. I do not get it. Sure, mastering it is no easy feat and I bow down, I really do. But I also don't get it. It's damn near impossible to get a collection of short stories published nowadays, because short stories kind of suck to read. All the good ones are sucked up in middle school English classes ("The Most Dangerous Game," anyone. "The Lottery?"). Which is why I typically have never entered many contests in general--because I am not a very good short story writer. And that's all they are.


In any event, tomorrow I drop off my story about a suicidal ex-Vaudeville star. We'll see how that goes. The loss of life AND the loss of art--what a whammy.

Book Journal: Mists of Avalon

I keep a book journal that sometimes gets a lot of love and sometimes doesn't (read: got a lot of love before before college, and doesn't really now, except during winter and summer breaks). I've got a pretty big collection of books I've read--many name-brand titles, many random reads I picked up--and usually just a brief blurb about how the book made me feel, and what I both liked and disliked about it.

It's not really anything but just a supplemental statement that I enjoy reading, because I'm pretty good at remembering not only what I've read, but also what struck me (both positively and negatively). But I've got a number of books now that I need to read and have been pouring through, because now these books are not only entertainment for me, they are examples of what works and what doesn't--everything from character to plot to the very words on the page.

So the first book I'm going to review in this blog (and that I will inevitably transfer over to my Book Journal) is a pretty sweeping epic--some 876 pages of omniscient narration that spans decades, and all in very beautiful, very crisp prose.

The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley

The Mists of Avalon is, in one word, sweeping. It spans generations of feminine perspective during the Middle Ages (Late Antiquity?), and particularly during the golden reign of King Arthur of Britain. I'm a huge closet sucker for medieval-themed literature and that certainly includes King Arthur's romances, which are individual epics unto themselves, their scope an incredible repertoire of romance, action, humor and despair.

Bradley's retelling hangs on to all of that. A feminist's perspective on the women of the Arthurian legends, The Mists of Avalon gives the women character and depth that much of the ancient works do not.

Mists is certainly a weighty book; at almost 900 pages, it's both a pleasure and a task to read. After taking a several-week break from the novel, I picked it up again over spring break and have finally finished it. Zimmer does not explain most of Old Britain, and the reader is like to pop on over to Google or Wikipedia to understand, for example, what "Less Britain" is (Brittany); likewise, the rich plethora of characters will usually warrant a bit of a background search as well.

For me, the most interesting and intense aspect of Mists is the battle between Christianity and "the Old Religion" of the Druids and Avalon and the like--the Goddess. It is certainly at the forefront of the drama, propelled by the unsympathetic (sorry, Zimmer) Gwynhwyfar and Zimmer's clear favorite, Morgaine. The conflict between the warring religions is incredibly heartfelt; I cringed when Arthur blindly appeased his increasingly fanatical wife and forsook the Avalon flag. Most of the tension is wrung between the religious battles, and suddenly we see how history too has been a constant war for--and on--religion. That conflict is more effective than Bradley's romantic subplots, which are effective, but not as fueled (they seem more minor even to Bradley). The very first romantic encounter, between Uther and Igraine, is the most convincing, and from that moment the other impassioned relationships (Lancelet and Gwynhwyfar, Morgaine and Lancelet) are less convincing.

The grand scope of The Mists of Avalon is incredibly impressive and a true testament to Zimmer's ability to create a complete story. The tension between religious ideals is strong throughout and makes for the most emotional undercurrent, and the end will either satisfy you or surprise you. Overall, a great, intelligent read, full of incredible writing, vivid dialogue, and enchanting drama.

Rating: 8.0/10

Reset Button

I had a great conversation today with an author and entertainment critic-turned-teacher. It was one of those conversations that I imagine paves the way for a mentor-student type of relationship: the wizened one who imparts his accumulated knowledge unto the bright-eyed apprentice. We are nowhere near that, but the conversation had that spark to it, and I felt empowered. There was a great deal of what I inherently knew (that it would be difficult) and what always makes me feel better (you can do it!).

He gave me some great advice and also spoke some great truths, which brings me to my main point. There were two bits of advice that struck me most: the first being a youthful mantra of mine, that I believe in and that so many of my Emory peers do not--"Live your twenties like it's a video game. Just hit the reset button." The second was this: "Today it's easier to get noticed. But with thousands of blogs and the endlessness of the Internet, it's harder to mean something."

Which is the stress I've felt since blogging and the Internet really took off--how can you stand out amongst a sea of bloggers who have revolutionized everything from fashion to food? With more out there, it all means less. And with thousands of ways to spew out blurbs and articles and pieces, it can be daunting indeed.

And all that on top of someone who has very, very little experience in the professional world of writing.

But I do have something else: I believe that writing is my vocation. It's what I love, and it's what I'm good at. Probably what I am best at, too. While I've got a lot to learn, I do believe that some of it is inherent within me, and for that, I am grateful.

Which is why when I stumble across blogs and websites and companies promoting articles and workshops called "how to make a scene" and "characterization and point of view," or "prompts to get your creative juices flowing." Or whatever. Now I am all for people exploring their inner writer and their inner creativity, and am a champion of all things art and literature. However, these classes unsettle me--should I be looking at them too? The first step, I believe, in becoming a good writer is to admit you need a lot of work. And I readily admit that. But these classes--will they help? Should I be enrolling in them? Will they make a difference for me? Part of me thinks no (and besides, I've had four years of those workshops at Emory), but part of me wants to do anything I can, too. And the other part is nervous that those manuscripts--by people who want to write but cannot, not really, or by people who don't have a dream of it, but could produce a technically good one, by some means--are my competition. Piles and piles of manuscripts, and one is taken.

This dream of mine is a real uphill climb.

Write Away I Realize...

This little guy is fishing for ideas, see? I'm kind of like him, and kind of not. Most of what I consider my better ideas sprung from a particularly creative period in my teenage years, and I work now to help refine those ideas to give them substance and depth.

Writing is hard, in that breaching-the-threshold-during-circuit-routines sort of way: it wears you out, dogs you down, but you know it's good as you propel forward, and the end result is a breath of feel-good fresh air.


Today I finished the first draft of a manuscript I hope will jump-start my vocation.

I have never felt so amazed, mentally and emotionally. I might have teared up a bit in happiness.

There is still SO MUCH WORK to do with it--I'd be embarrassed to sully the good name Jillian and submit it now--and revising is tough, one of the toughest things you can do.

I'm super happy...but I'm shelving the draft for a few days. Gonna sort through everything that needs it: subtext, theme, symbolism, dialogue, action, conflict, dimension....oy. It's enough to make you feel like you're starting a brand new thing.

But the end result! The end result. I think I can, I think I can.