Two random things, then the point:
1. So, apparently somehow I joined my own blog? A little narcisstic it may appear, but it was totally by accident, people.
2. Today I had to run in to the dollar store and mid "running in" I heard a loud "POW!" Of course the first thing I did was check myself for gunshot wounds, but after realizing my organs were still intact I looked around and apparently a soda bottle exploded. Crazy! Just sitting there with a bunch of other soda bottles and exploded right there in the middle of the day with no one touching it.
Point:Next month I'm writing a novel. That's right. Not finishing a novel, not starting a novel, not outlining a novel but writing one. Start to finish. "Once upon a time" to "they lived happily ever after." Am I crazy? Is the idea crazy? Or crazy awesome? (hint - the latter) If you've never heard of NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writing Month, check out the webpage here. As stated on their webpage, " The goal [of NaNoWriMo] is to write a 50,000 word novel by 11:59:59 November 30th." You sign up, create a profile and add your word count every day to keep track and keep accountable with other writers in your area.
It seems a little masochistic, but I'm really excited. I can't tell you how many times I've started a major writing project and have not finished it! Currently, I'm over half-way through a rough draft of a book that I've been working on for about two years. And that one I really do hope and pray to finish because it's important (both the book and the ability to finish). Finishing is the absolute hardest part for me and one of the goals of NaNoWriMo is to tell people that you're writing a novel in November so people will bug you about it and keep you accountable. Hence the purpose of this blog.
Bug me about it.
Want to write a novel next month too? It'll be fun! Go to the webpage and look me up. My username is: emholbert.
Currently I am outlining and brainstorming and purchasing coffee.
Peace.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
We be livin' in a dreamworld.... (?)
It's really early. I like to rap in the wee hours.
This blog doesn't have much to do with anything. But rarely do my blogs ever have much to do with ...well...anything.
For some reason I was given the gift (I consider it a gift) of dreaming. You know how some people tell you: "I never dream. I don't know why. I mean, if I dream I don't remember it when I wake up." I am not one of those people. When I dream, there are explosions and car chases and star crossed lovers and mutants and daring rescues. I dream in movie format. Ebert and that other guy tweet their level of thumb approval to me after I wake up. And I love it! I don't know if I eat weird food at weird times or if it's all that crack cocaine (just a joke...). I used to write my dreams down and use them for book ideas. Maybe I'll blog some of them sometime. Yeah that's a good idea, Liz! (pats self on back)
Anyway, the point of this blog (the small and awkward point) is...have you ever had dreams about places that exist around you? I, for years have had reocurring dreams about an old fashioned gas station near my house. It was preserved for historical purposes but no one goes in it or anything. And for as far back as I can remember I've had dreams that someone turns it into a restaurant or a working gas station and I go eat there everyday. Now that may not sound magical to you...not yet. But imagine a place in your waking hours that's routine and everyday and there's nothing special about it. And suddenly in your dreams it becomes alive and new and exciting! Everything's more exciting in dreams. But whenever I drive past the gas station I remember that dream...
The counters were repainted light blue and the meals we're served Steinbeck-ian style - right there on the counter. It was opening day and a friend of mine and I walked down the road to check it out. The place was empty - but the guy tending the counter let us try a sample of his fresh baked cheesecake...just to entice us to come back. The cheesecake was...very good. But who really knows in a dream.
Anyway. Dreams are fun. It's hard to pull my thoughts together this early in the morning.
Good day, sports fans.
This blog doesn't have much to do with anything. But rarely do my blogs ever have much to do with ...well...anything.
For some reason I was given the gift (I consider it a gift) of dreaming. You know how some people tell you: "I never dream. I don't know why. I mean, if I dream I don't remember it when I wake up." I am not one of those people. When I dream, there are explosions and car chases and star crossed lovers and mutants and daring rescues. I dream in movie format. Ebert and that other guy tweet their level of thumb approval to me after I wake up. And I love it! I don't know if I eat weird food at weird times or if it's all that crack cocaine (just a joke...). I used to write my dreams down and use them for book ideas. Maybe I'll blog some of them sometime. Yeah that's a good idea, Liz! (pats self on back)
Anyway, the point of this blog (the small and awkward point) is...have you ever had dreams about places that exist around you? I, for years have had reocurring dreams about an old fashioned gas station near my house. It was preserved for historical purposes but no one goes in it or anything. And for as far back as I can remember I've had dreams that someone turns it into a restaurant or a working gas station and I go eat there everyday. Now that may not sound magical to you...not yet. But imagine a place in your waking hours that's routine and everyday and there's nothing special about it. And suddenly in your dreams it becomes alive and new and exciting! Everything's more exciting in dreams. But whenever I drive past the gas station I remember that dream...
The counters were repainted light blue and the meals we're served Steinbeck-ian style - right there on the counter. It was opening day and a friend of mine and I walked down the road to check it out. The place was empty - but the guy tending the counter let us try a sample of his fresh baked cheesecake...just to entice us to come back. The cheesecake was...very good. But who really knows in a dream.
Anyway. Dreams are fun. It's hard to pull my thoughts together this early in the morning.
Good day, sports fans.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Hinge-ing.
Do you ever have those weeks where you think of a word and then you hear it all week over and over again? Last week the word was: "pariah." A neat word. A sad meaning. But after I heard it once and noticed its neat/sadness...I heard it everywhere. Today I was thinking of Jason and the Argonauts, because when Owl City sings "There are beautiful things seen by the astronauts," I replace astronauts with "Argonauts." Why? Don't ask questions. But then I watched Psych and Shawn called someone a "flaxen-haired Argonaut." Why does this happen?
That doesn't have anything to do with this blog, I just thought it was weird. Last week I read Jon Acuff's Quitter and reviewed it for Relevant Magazine (go here to read). One of my favorite elements of the book was when he wrote about "hinge moments" or moments that resonate deeply with you in relation to doing something you love - that make you realize you could spend your whole life doing this. One of his qualifiers was that - if you would do something without having to be paid to do it...it might be a hint that you've discovered your dream.
That chapter of the book made me really analyze why I want to write. What were the hinge moments that made writing stand out for me as something that I felt called to do above say, fly fishing, or oil drilling, or doily crocheting?
This morning I was thinking about all the times I've read something I've written to whoever would listen...my apartment mates, when I'd make them stay up really late at night listening to the latest chapter of a book I'd been working on. The time when I read my short story to my writing group and they liked it. People who would read my books and respond positively (even with books that were inevitably abandoned) were significant in their ushering me closer to what I love to do. This may sound haughty, but I write because I feel like I have something to say. Like I've been given something to say, and I need to say it. One of my favorite things about writing and reading is how the written word puts feelings into words, where most people can't express or can't find the words to express. When you read it you think: "Hey, I've always thought that too! I thought I was the only one!" That's fun.
The most important thing: I write because I believe in the truth. And by truth I mean Jesus Christ. I don't like Christian fiction. I don't feel that a fiction writer has to have christian characters to write about truth. I am passionate about the human experience - and what the human experience says about humanity's need for Jesus Christ.
I read a verse this morning that floored me: because it describes exactly what makes me want to write:
That doesn't have anything to do with this blog, I just thought it was weird. Last week I read Jon Acuff's Quitter and reviewed it for Relevant Magazine (go here to read). One of my favorite elements of the book was when he wrote about "hinge moments" or moments that resonate deeply with you in relation to doing something you love - that make you realize you could spend your whole life doing this. One of his qualifiers was that - if you would do something without having to be paid to do it...it might be a hint that you've discovered your dream.
That chapter of the book made me really analyze why I want to write. What were the hinge moments that made writing stand out for me as something that I felt called to do above say, fly fishing, or oil drilling, or doily crocheting?
This morning I was thinking about all the times I've read something I've written to whoever would listen...my apartment mates, when I'd make them stay up really late at night listening to the latest chapter of a book I'd been working on. The time when I read my short story to my writing group and they liked it. People who would read my books and respond positively (even with books that were inevitably abandoned) were significant in their ushering me closer to what I love to do. This may sound haughty, but I write because I feel like I have something to say. Like I've been given something to say, and I need to say it. One of my favorite things about writing and reading is how the written word puts feelings into words, where most people can't express or can't find the words to express. When you read it you think: "Hey, I've always thought that too! I thought I was the only one!" That's fun.
The most important thing: I write because I believe in the truth. And by truth I mean Jesus Christ. I don't like Christian fiction. I don't feel that a fiction writer has to have christian characters to write about truth. I am passionate about the human experience - and what the human experience says about humanity's need for Jesus Christ.
I read a verse this morning that floored me: because it describes exactly what makes me want to write:
"The Preacher sought to find delightful words and to write words of truth correctly."
Ecclesiastes 12:10
Boom. That is all.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Post-Apocalyptia
I've recently discovered that I'm a big fan of post-apocalyptic lit.
A couple weeks ago, our town (yes our entire town) lost internet access due to someone introducing their car to a pole on a major highway. Hi car. Hi pole. Nice to meet you. BAM no internet. No one was injured...hence the jocularity. People roamed the streets like wild dogs, tearing their clothes, foraging in trash bins for a wifi connection. People sat on curbs, stared at the clouds, mindless, listless...wondering what life would be like without the internet. As amusing as it may seem, it was a little jarring, coming to the realization the utter dependence we have on the world wide web.
Fast a little forward. Hurricane Irene. No power. Hauling water from the pool, from the stream, from whatever just to be able to flush the toilet. People wandering around in PJs, fighting over jugs of water in the store. Roasting park franks over a fire in the rain. Again, it was a little jarring.
These things made me realize again my appreciation for that genre of literature. I guess what I like so much about it is that it forces you to see your life in a new perspective. If you were one of the last left, cut off from civilization, how would you be resourceful with what's around you? I used to work as a cook at a conference center and whenever I'd walk past rows and rows of canned peaches, pudding and four bean salad and into a massive walk-in cooler, I couldn't help but wonder if the world caved in, and we were suddenly I-am-legended, how long could I last on all the food that was in those coolers/pantries/freezers. Would it be a well kept secret or would people from all over town discover it and run me out of there? Would I fight? Would I flee to save my life and live off of berries and tree bark?
Now, I'm a believer in Christ, and a believer in His word...and I trust Him to take care of me, even in the most frightful of circumstances, so I'm really not too concerned about prepping for a post-apocalyptic living arrangement. I just enjoy reading about it and thinking about it sometimes.
Some good post-apocalyptia:
By the Waters of Babylon by Stephen Vincent Benet
Zombicorns by John Green (this novella was never meant to be a legit, formal novella, per the author but was a prize for a fundraising event. Listen to John Green read the first bit here.
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Reading this right now. And loving it.
I'm sure there are probably more that I've read and forgotten.If you can point me in the direction of any other exemplary pieces of post-apocalyptia, I'd gladly accept.
A couple weeks ago, our town (yes our entire town) lost internet access due to someone introducing their car to a pole on a major highway. Hi car. Hi pole. Nice to meet you. BAM no internet. No one was injured...hence the jocularity. People roamed the streets like wild dogs, tearing their clothes, foraging in trash bins for a wifi connection. People sat on curbs, stared at the clouds, mindless, listless...wondering what life would be like without the internet. As amusing as it may seem, it was a little jarring, coming to the realization the utter dependence we have on the world wide web.
Fast a little forward. Hurricane Irene. No power. Hauling water from the pool, from the stream, from whatever just to be able to flush the toilet. People wandering around in PJs, fighting over jugs of water in the store. Roasting park franks over a fire in the rain. Again, it was a little jarring.
These things made me realize again my appreciation for that genre of literature. I guess what I like so much about it is that it forces you to see your life in a new perspective. If you were one of the last left, cut off from civilization, how would you be resourceful with what's around you? I used to work as a cook at a conference center and whenever I'd walk past rows and rows of canned peaches, pudding and four bean salad and into a massive walk-in cooler, I couldn't help but wonder if the world caved in, and we were suddenly I-am-legended, how long could I last on all the food that was in those coolers/pantries/freezers. Would it be a well kept secret or would people from all over town discover it and run me out of there? Would I fight? Would I flee to save my life and live off of berries and tree bark?
Now, I'm a believer in Christ, and a believer in His word...and I trust Him to take care of me, even in the most frightful of circumstances, so I'm really not too concerned about prepping for a post-apocalyptic living arrangement. I just enjoy reading about it and thinking about it sometimes.
Some good post-apocalyptia:
By the Waters of Babylon by Stephen Vincent Benet
Zombicorns by John Green (this novella was never meant to be a legit, formal novella, per the author but was a prize for a fundraising event. Listen to John Green read the first bit here.
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Reading this right now. And loving it.
I'm sure there are probably more that I've read and forgotten.If you can point me in the direction of any other exemplary pieces of post-apocalyptia, I'd gladly accept.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Another one about bathrooms...
The last time I went on vacation I detailed to you the most epic bathroom I've ever been in. This year on vacation, I decided I'd forego the written explanation. Therefore here you have it: A collage of the bathrooms on this trip in descending order from acceptable to horrific.
Okay, so the first one we have here was the restaurant on the way home. It recieved the best grade. Clean, orderly, well stocked, with a charming floral arrangement, sans dust.
Coming in at a close second was the hotel bathroom. Again, clean, neat, marble-esque floors.
Another shot of the hotel bathroom, taken in poor lighting, but just so you get the feel of it, I've included a shot of the lovely wall sconce nestled between the mirrors. A solid second place.
Coming up third and only for team spirit was the bathroom at PNC park, which boasted team logos on the TP dispenser.
A rough number four. Starting to get ugly. Subway on the road...things are beginning to run amuck here. This bathroom is hanging onto a semblence of orderliniess by a thread.
The moment you've all been waiting for: Number 5. Characteristic epic bathroom. Broken Towel dispenser, orphan TP, Sams club version of hand soap. At least there was hand soap.
Another shot of number five. Is that plant faded? Nope, that's years of compounded dust on that attempt at elegance.
And the thing that really sent this pitstop into the last place:
Yes, it is Sharpie.
Until next time
Friday, August 12, 2011
How to like, write good and stuff...
Did that hurt? Reading the title I mean? If so, good. It should hurt.
Ok, so on facebook I wrote that I would be writing a post about: "the responsibility of Christians to write well - and tips from great authors on how to do just that."
Sounds good right? Well, I guess I should define great authors. If you know me at all you know that my two favorite authors are Steinbeck and Salinger. So...dead guys. Therefore, it's not like I went up to them, or sent them a tweet: "Hey guys, do you have any tips for aspiring writers?" Even if they were alive, I'm pretty sure they would swear at me or tell me to go away if I asked them that question. But I'm a firm believer that to be a good writer you have to be a good reader. Most of what I've learned about writing has come from reading great books and trying to figure out why I love them so much. What is it about these books that makes me walk away stunned? And, okay, you can't pick up anything I've written at Barnes and Noble. Heck, you can't pick up anything I've written on amazon.com. So...maybe I'm not really qualified to be telling you this. But humor me.
Okay, (crack knuckles, take deep breath, continue) Tips about writing. Things you should do, things you definitely shouldn't do...here we go.
Numero Uno: Don't tell your audience everything that your main character is thinking/feeling.
I've read books before that are about 10% action and 90% mental narration. "Joey sat on the couch (there's your 10% action) and thought about what he had just seen. Pete seemed like a good friend, and Joey could always trust him before but now he couldn't be sure. "Joey felt betrayed (SERIOUSLY?! You don't think I could've figured this out on my own?) by the way Pete had acted around Mary. Surely Pete knew that Joey had feelings for Mary, but if he did know, he was trying to sabotage Joey's plan of making Mary fall for him."
It looks funny, but, I literally have read books just like this. Books that, if you were to cut out the inner narration, you'd have about ten pages in your hand (get it? 10% ha - I made a funny). Authors who write like this labor under the assumption that their audience may not be able to figure out what's really going on. They don't want their readers to miss anything, so they tell them....EVERYTHING. As a reader, you should be offended when you read this. Really? You think I'm that mentally impeded...that I can't add up Susie's apples to deduce that Joey's miffed at Petey?! All you had to say was "Joey looked out the window just in time to see his best friend Pete plant a big one on Mary." That's all I needed to figure out there was some hardcore tension there.
Nombre Deux: (is this a polyglot?) Do create real characters.
Think about the way you react to situations in real life. Patsy asks you if you want to get ice cream at 3:00. You've just had a hard day, and though you're a fiend for ice cream, you just want to get home. And you know that Patsy's going to call you in five minutes and say "Actually, can we meet at 3:15? I'm running late." So you tell Patsy..."HECK NO!" But the next tuesday, Patsy says: "Hey I know last week didn't work out, do you want to get ice cream today?" And you, you beautiful dreamer you, have just had the best. day. of. your. life. Someone ghost-delivered your favorite color of post-it notes, the power went out in your office and you got paid to sharpen pencils for a three hours...let's just say it's been a good one. So when Patsy asks you to get ice cream you're like: "For sure, girl."
The things you feel strongly about one day are not always the things you feel strongly about the next. I used to think that one thing we love so much about written people is that they get to be just one person all the time, where you and I, if we're honest, seem like several different people all at once. But the more complex you make your written people, the more they seem like real poeple. People are complex (I wanna shout duh, having even written that. Okay I just did shout it. Good thing no one else is around). Don't make your characters so flat that they're predictable. I had a professor in college who told us that if you write your characters so they're real, sometimes they do things that surprise you.
Which leads me to another sub-point...
Don't let your characters contradict themselves either. They shouldn't be 2D, but they shouldn't be a crazy conglomeration of things either. I recently read a book where the main character claimed (in every other chapter - it got more than a little annoying) that her friends never saw her cry. And guess what! In every other chapter, she was crying. I mean, was that supposed to be written into her character? That she's a pathological liar who clearly doesn't understand herself but wishes she wasn't a crier when she actually is? See the nightmarish vortex you send your readers spiraling into when you don't define your characters rightly?!
Le Point Trois: Cliches. Don't do it. Just don't.
What does it even mean to fall into someone's eye pools? I definitely just read that in a book recently and I thought the whole eye pool thing was a joke. You've seen it, haven't you? "Laurie looked deeply into the calming celestial pools that were Spanky's eyes. If she were to lean a little closer, she would fall in." Spanky must be literally monstrous if his eyes are equivalent to the size of pools. I mean, I want to see someone actually attempt to fall into someone's eyes. Or at least poke a toe in, or a finger. The next time you see someone attractive, poke them in the eye and tell them you were trying to bathe in their eye pools. I'm sure you'll get a phone number or a date out of that.
Four: Don't promise something you can't deliver.
Do you remember that book I was telling you about where the character said she didn't cry and yet she was actually a human geyser? I mean she probably had to keep up a constant water supply to emit so much moisture. In the same book, the author set up this crazy plot in the beginning, where you didn't know what had happened to the characters, how they got the way they were, what had led them to the point they were now. Usually, these things get ironed out by the end of the book. But I got to the end of the fifth or sixth book in the series, only to discover the author had no intention of clearing up the mess he had gotten me into. Remember when your mom asked you to clean your room and you said you would? And you didn't and then you got in really big trouble because you'd said you'd clean it up and then you didn't? Be responsible. If you're not going to clear it up, don't write it.
Last. a.k.a. Five: Do say something. But don't make it easy.
When you write, you're writing to say something. Otherwise, you're just giving us a play by play of stuff that happens. Every author is trying to mean something publicly with their work. But one of the most profound and powerful concepts in great literature is subtlety. Don't end the book by having Joey say: "And that was the summer that I learned that people can let you down, but that doesn't mean you should stop loving people." I love the way Catcher in the Rye ends. He says something about how you shouldn't talk about things because you start missing everyone. It's so abrupt, and it doesn't make any sense and you, the reader, end up with the responsibility of figuring out what that means, if it even means anything. That's what's so great about great literature. You have to work, to think, to figure it out. That's when you're allowed to be a part of what you're reading, and what you've read will always be a part of you now that you've actually invested yourself in it. It's a beautiful thing.
Which leads me to my final point. Again, if you know me at all, you know that I cannot stand mass produced Christian romance, be it Amish or be it city folk. I've never read a Christian romance novel where I've been required to think. A scan of my brain would not show movement or bright coloration of any kind. Gray matter would stay gray.
Ok, so on facebook I wrote that I would be writing a post about: "the responsibility of Christians to write well - and tips from great authors on how to do just that."
Sounds good right? Well, I guess I should define great authors. If you know me at all you know that my two favorite authors are Steinbeck and Salinger. So...dead guys. Therefore, it's not like I went up to them, or sent them a tweet: "Hey guys, do you have any tips for aspiring writers?" Even if they were alive, I'm pretty sure they would swear at me or tell me to go away if I asked them that question. But I'm a firm believer that to be a good writer you have to be a good reader. Most of what I've learned about writing has come from reading great books and trying to figure out why I love them so much. What is it about these books that makes me walk away stunned? And, okay, you can't pick up anything I've written at Barnes and Noble. Heck, you can't pick up anything I've written on amazon.com. So...maybe I'm not really qualified to be telling you this. But humor me.
Okay, (crack knuckles, take deep breath, continue) Tips about writing. Things you should do, things you definitely shouldn't do...here we go.
Numero Uno: Don't tell your audience everything that your main character is thinking/feeling.
I've read books before that are about 10% action and 90% mental narration. "Joey sat on the couch (there's your 10% action) and thought about what he had just seen. Pete seemed like a good friend, and Joey could always trust him before but now he couldn't be sure. "Joey felt betrayed (SERIOUSLY?! You don't think I could've figured this out on my own?) by the way Pete had acted around Mary. Surely Pete knew that Joey had feelings for Mary, but if he did know, he was trying to sabotage Joey's plan of making Mary fall for him."
It looks funny, but, I literally have read books just like this. Books that, if you were to cut out the inner narration, you'd have about ten pages in your hand (get it? 10% ha - I made a funny). Authors who write like this labor under the assumption that their audience may not be able to figure out what's really going on. They don't want their readers to miss anything, so they tell them....EVERYTHING. As a reader, you should be offended when you read this. Really? You think I'm that mentally impeded...that I can't add up Susie's apples to deduce that Joey's miffed at Petey?! All you had to say was "Joey looked out the window just in time to see his best friend Pete plant a big one on Mary." That's all I needed to figure out there was some hardcore tension there.
Nombre Deux: (is this a polyglot?) Do create real characters.
Think about the way you react to situations in real life. Patsy asks you if you want to get ice cream at 3:00. You've just had a hard day, and though you're a fiend for ice cream, you just want to get home. And you know that Patsy's going to call you in five minutes and say "Actually, can we meet at 3:15? I'm running late." So you tell Patsy..."HECK NO!" But the next tuesday, Patsy says: "Hey I know last week didn't work out, do you want to get ice cream today?" And you, you beautiful dreamer you, have just had the best. day. of. your. life. Someone ghost-delivered your favorite color of post-it notes, the power went out in your office and you got paid to sharpen pencils for a three hours...let's just say it's been a good one. So when Patsy asks you to get ice cream you're like: "For sure, girl."
The things you feel strongly about one day are not always the things you feel strongly about the next. I used to think that one thing we love so much about written people is that they get to be just one person all the time, where you and I, if we're honest, seem like several different people all at once. But the more complex you make your written people, the more they seem like real poeple. People are complex (I wanna shout duh, having even written that. Okay I just did shout it. Good thing no one else is around). Don't make your characters so flat that they're predictable. I had a professor in college who told us that if you write your characters so they're real, sometimes they do things that surprise you.
Which leads me to another sub-point...
Don't let your characters contradict themselves either. They shouldn't be 2D, but they shouldn't be a crazy conglomeration of things either. I recently read a book where the main character claimed (in every other chapter - it got more than a little annoying) that her friends never saw her cry. And guess what! In every other chapter, she was crying. I mean, was that supposed to be written into her character? That she's a pathological liar who clearly doesn't understand herself but wishes she wasn't a crier when she actually is? See the nightmarish vortex you send your readers spiraling into when you don't define your characters rightly?!
Le Point Trois: Cliches. Don't do it. Just don't.
What does it even mean to fall into someone's eye pools? I definitely just read that in a book recently and I thought the whole eye pool thing was a joke. You've seen it, haven't you? "Laurie looked deeply into the calming celestial pools that were Spanky's eyes. If she were to lean a little closer, she would fall in." Spanky must be literally monstrous if his eyes are equivalent to the size of pools. I mean, I want to see someone actually attempt to fall into someone's eyes. Or at least poke a toe in, or a finger. The next time you see someone attractive, poke them in the eye and tell them you were trying to bathe in their eye pools. I'm sure you'll get a phone number or a date out of that.
Four: Don't promise something you can't deliver.
Do you remember that book I was telling you about where the character said she didn't cry and yet she was actually a human geyser? I mean she probably had to keep up a constant water supply to emit so much moisture. In the same book, the author set up this crazy plot in the beginning, where you didn't know what had happened to the characters, how they got the way they were, what had led them to the point they were now. Usually, these things get ironed out by the end of the book. But I got to the end of the fifth or sixth book in the series, only to discover the author had no intention of clearing up the mess he had gotten me into. Remember when your mom asked you to clean your room and you said you would? And you didn't and then you got in really big trouble because you'd said you'd clean it up and then you didn't? Be responsible. If you're not going to clear it up, don't write it.
Last. a.k.a. Five: Do say something. But don't make it easy.
When you write, you're writing to say something. Otherwise, you're just giving us a play by play of stuff that happens. Every author is trying to mean something publicly with their work. But one of the most profound and powerful concepts in great literature is subtlety. Don't end the book by having Joey say: "And that was the summer that I learned that people can let you down, but that doesn't mean you should stop loving people." I love the way Catcher in the Rye ends. He says something about how you shouldn't talk about things because you start missing everyone. It's so abrupt, and it doesn't make any sense and you, the reader, end up with the responsibility of figuring out what that means, if it even means anything. That's what's so great about great literature. You have to work, to think, to figure it out. That's when you're allowed to be a part of what you're reading, and what you've read will always be a part of you now that you've actually invested yourself in it. It's a beautiful thing.
Which leads me to my final point. Again, if you know me at all, you know that I cannot stand mass produced Christian romance, be it Amish or be it city folk. I've never read a Christian romance novel where I've been required to think. A scan of my brain would not show movement or bright coloration of any kind. Gray matter would stay gray.
If we are possessors of the message of profound truth, and creativity given to us by our God, we should not be producing things that are lacking excellence.
And that is all.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Lightning bugs or fireflies?
This blog post probably won't be funny. I'll tell you that right now. So, maybe I'll tell you a joke first and then I'll get into the blog so you won't feel utterly cheated.
Why does a giraffe have a long neck? .... To reach its head.
Okay. Done.
I don't know how theologically sound this is...but I feel a lot of times God communicates with me through His creation. There have been several instances where I've felt "spoken to" through very subtle "small, still voice" experiences.
A particular one I'd like to share with you now, because it means a lot to me and because I want to. Several individuals (cough)Jen(cough) I know I've told this story to already a ka-zillion times so...you probably want to quit now.
The summer after my sophomore year of college I was really depressed. Mainly because I was on a medicine...that made me wicked depressed. When I went back to school, it gave me anxiety and almost made me drop out of college, but that's a different story altogether. Back to the summer. For some reason that summer I only worked 3 hours a day, 3 days a week. So I had no money and I basically sat home the whole summer and at this point I can't even really remember it that well. I was horribly depressed and horribly lonely and lost about my whole "calling" in life...what the heck was I going to do with it?
One night, lying on my bed, not being able to sleep...I reached the pinnacle of what I could stand. Being a very reasonable and wise, mature believer in Christ I cried out: "What the heck is wrong with you, God?!" I know...so poetic. I told Him I had no idea what He was doing, or what I was doing...why I felt this way, or how in the world I could continue. I had given up on finding answers to my questions and all I wanted was to know I wasn't alone. So I begged for Him to show me I wasn't alone and that help would come.
As soon as I finished praying - and I know it wasn't there before, but in the middle of the pitch darkness right after I opened my eyes a lightning bug lit up the room right in front of me. It blinked around my room for a couple minutes and then I fell asleep and I knew I wasn't alone. I never had been and I never would be.
Why does a giraffe have a long neck? .... To reach its head.
Okay. Done.
I don't know how theologically sound this is...but I feel a lot of times God communicates with me through His creation. There have been several instances where I've felt "spoken to" through very subtle "small, still voice" experiences.
A particular one I'd like to share with you now, because it means a lot to me and because I want to. Several individuals (cough)Jen(cough) I know I've told this story to already a ka-zillion times so...you probably want to quit now.
The summer after my sophomore year of college I was really depressed. Mainly because I was on a medicine...that made me wicked depressed. When I went back to school, it gave me anxiety and almost made me drop out of college, but that's a different story altogether. Back to the summer. For some reason that summer I only worked 3 hours a day, 3 days a week. So I had no money and I basically sat home the whole summer and at this point I can't even really remember it that well. I was horribly depressed and horribly lonely and lost about my whole "calling" in life...what the heck was I going to do with it?
One night, lying on my bed, not being able to sleep...I reached the pinnacle of what I could stand. Being a very reasonable and wise, mature believer in Christ I cried out: "What the heck is wrong with you, God?!" I know...so poetic. I told Him I had no idea what He was doing, or what I was doing...why I felt this way, or how in the world I could continue. I had given up on finding answers to my questions and all I wanted was to know I wasn't alone. So I begged for Him to show me I wasn't alone and that help would come.
As soon as I finished praying - and I know it wasn't there before, but in the middle of the pitch darkness right after I opened my eyes a lightning bug lit up the room right in front of me. It blinked around my room for a couple minutes and then I fell asleep and I knew I wasn't alone. I never had been and I never would be.
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