Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Disappointed
I opened up Word tonight only to discover...
all the work I did yesterday on my story was gone.
The problem with the Mac magnetic power cord is that when I accidentally pull it out before I've saved something, it ruins my life.
I guess I have some work to do...again. *sigh*
Friday, November 20, 2009
Sir, I exist!
I love this quote, and I just needed to put it somewhere. Maybe you'll like it, too.
A man said to the universe: 'Sir, I exist!'
'However,' replied the universe. 'the fact has not created in me a sense of obligation.'
Stephen Crane
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Well crap!
Now that I've made the HUGE decision to reread Donald Miller's book, the library tells me that "About a Boy" by Nick Hornby is ready for me also! *sigh*
I'm going to pick up the Hornby book and make that my primary read, and I'll spend some time with Don in the evenings (I wish!).
What to do!
Here's my dilemma: I've finished my book (and I loved it, by the way, but we'll get to that later).
Oddly enough, I didn't have another book lined up and ready to go for when I finished the Donald Miller book. I finished it this afternoon, and luckily the library sent me a notification that one of the books I put on hold was ready for me. This is where the problem comes in.
I don't think I want to read it!
"Pride and Prejudice and Zombies". That's the book. The people I know who have read it have said that it's pretty "meh". The Austen parts are great (obviously), but the zombie parts are lacking. I have this natural aversion to pop lit, which I think comes from some of the general snobbery associated with the English programs of most universities. It's something that's probably kept me from reading a lot of bad writing, but I'm sure I've also missed out on things. Would I be missing out on something if I skip this one?
The other factor here is that I would really like to reread the book I just finished (with a pencil in hand). The book has actually changed the way I look at a lot of things, and before I shelve it, I think I want to go back through and pull out the parts that are really meaningful to me.
So, as I've typed this out, I think I've decided what to do: I'm going to let the hold go and reread "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years". I think I really need to explore it one more time while it's all still fresh and relevant, .
Since I'll be reading it again, I may wait to review this book until I've finished it again. Or maybe I'll break up the review into the different ideas in the book. You'll just have to wait and see!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Say what?
I sit down with my cup of coffee at the only free table in the shop. I pick the seat facing the door so I can see you when you come in. Drumming on the side of my cup, I look around. Full. Not conducive to conversation, especially not the kind I see us having. Oh well. It's better than somewhere quiet.
You walk in the door and look around until you spot me. Instead of ordering a drink, you head straight for me. Great. I have no time to think. The chair scrapes along the floor as you pull it out for yourself, and again as you scoot it in. You fold your hands and smile an awkward smile. "So," you say, "what did you need to talk about?"
And I choke. Why can't I ever think of what I want to say when it's time to actually say it? Wait! I know what to do.
I pull a boombox out of my bag and hit play.
Don't you wish life could be like that?! I know I do. There are so many times I wish I could say, "Hold on a second...there's a song that can say what I'm trying to say much better than I can," and then play it. But even if I quote a song in conversation, I'm going to sound pretty silly. *sigh*
Maybe if I start doing it, it will catch on...
Monday, November 16, 2009
The Muse
"The muse honors the working stiff." - Steven Pressfield
...which means I need to get serious.
Yesterday at Tribe, we were discussing what's going on in our lives. Without really thinking, I said that I am writing a novel. I think that's the first time I actually said it out loud. And it sort of motivated me to get my act together and really commit to doing it, because if I'm going to say I'm doing it, I'd better be making some progress on it.
I've heard (more times than I can count) that to be a really good writer, you have to write every day. You have to make it a priority. So that's what I need to do.
I'm going to start small, maybe 30 minutes a day. Obviously, I can do more than that, and probably will on the days that I get into a good groove with it. But I'm also not going to beat myself up over days that it doesn't happen (as long as that's the exception and not the rule). I'm also not going to limit myself to writing my novel. Some days, for whatever reason, I may just need to write in my journal and that's all I'll have time for. But it's something, and it's something I need.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Adventures in Reading: "The Wild Things" by Dave Eggers
"This should be interesting."
That's what I thought when I picked up "The Wild Things" by Dave Eggers. It's a novel based on a movie based on a children's book, written by an author with a really distinct voice and writing style.
"Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak was one of my favorite books as a kid. Rereading it now, I'm not completely sure why, but there was something about it then that I loved. And I'm not the only one.
Several months ago, I read that there was a more adult novel in the works based on what would be the movie "Where the Wild Things Are," and that it would be written by co-screen writer Dave Eggers. This was long before I read "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius," so I wasn't especially excited about it based specifically on the author. It was the concept that intrigued me. The original book has only ten sentences. What would a book/movie do to fill in the gaps?
I saw the movie before I read "The Wild Things". I still haven't decided which side of the fence I'm on with it. I don't really think it's a kid's movie. I read in a review somewhere that it's a movie about being a kid, not a movie for kids. I think that describes it really well. It has humor and fantasy, but it deals with a lot of more adult themes as they affect a boy named Max. It's a movie that makes you think, and those aren't always the kind that you leave thinking, "Wow! That was entertaining!"
I had already purchased "The Wild Things" before I saw the movie, because I had been looking forward to it for so long. I was reading other things at the time, so I couldn't get to the book before the movie, although it turned out to not matter all that much. When it came time to actually start reading, though, I was a bit hesitant. For some reason, knowing how the movie portrayed the story made me unsure about the book. I didn't know if I wanted to delve even further into the issues presented in the movie just yet, especially knowing the brutal honesty Eggers comes at his work with. Turns out, I had nothing to fear.
In the acknowledgments at the end of the book, Eggers comments on the differences in his version of the story versus Spike Jonze's screenplay versus Marice Sendak's book, saying that the Max in all three versions of the story was somewhat based on the author of each. This meant that each story had it's own particular set of themes, while still remaining true to the overall story.
I really enjoyed Eggers take on the story. There are still a lot of adult themes dealing with Max's psychology and his personal struggles, but the story doesn't become overwhelmed by them. It deviates from the movie in some places, but never enough to change the overall story. Honestly, I don't think it would have mattered too much if it had. I didn't really think of the movie very often as I read, which I think shows that the book stands on it's own well enough. Eggers presumably could have taken the story in a completely different direction, and probably made an equally good novel, but that wasn't the task he was given.
There is one thing that I would change, both in the movie and in Eggers' novel: In the original book by Sendak, there is no judgment, no moral-to-the-story. Max misbehaves, he is sent to his room, he goes to where the wild things are, he rules as king, and then he comes home. There is no explanation for his behavior or justification of his actions. The movie and novel, however, add back story and issues for Max to deal with. Max goes to the island to deal with things he is faced with in his own reality. I think this is a really genius idea, and I like where both went with it. However, there's a lack of any kind of resolution. What has Max learned? How has he changed? I don't like authors to overtly spell things out for me, but I also need to see some indication of the change in the character for me to know it's taken place. I won't assume it's happened just because it makes sense that it would. It's an author's job to somehow show me that it has occurred. And neither the movie or book did that well enough for me to feel a real sense of completion. In the original book, this is not needed because Max never finds himself in a situation that asks him to change. In the books and movies, he is put in scenarios where he is asked to look at the behaviors of others and how they affect one another. In my opinion, this should cause some sort of change in Max's view of the world, or at least of himself. I wasn't left feeling satisfied that this had happened, for better or for worse.
Also, I'm all for subtlety, but I felt like there was a lack of connection between the issues of the wild things and Max's own problems. Maybe this was intentional, and Max was only supposed to see how it feels to have to try to understand a lot of other people's problems while still dealing with his own. In this particular point, however, I think the book did a better job than the movie of giving some indication of the possible connections.
While those seem like a large complaints, they doesn't take away from the story as a whole in a way that would leave me not recommending "The Wild Things". It's an interesting read, with characters and story lines that are believable, even in their most fantastic incarnations.
That's what I thought when I picked up "The Wild Things" by Dave Eggers. It's a novel based on a movie based on a children's book, written by an author with a really distinct voice and writing style.
"Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak was one of my favorite books as a kid. Rereading it now, I'm not completely sure why, but there was something about it then that I loved. And I'm not the only one.
Several months ago, I read that there was a more adult novel in the works based on what would be the movie "Where the Wild Things Are," and that it would be written by co-screen writer Dave Eggers. This was long before I read "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius," so I wasn't especially excited about it based specifically on the author. It was the concept that intrigued me. The original book has only ten sentences. What would a book/movie do to fill in the gaps?
I saw the movie before I read "The Wild Things". I still haven't decided which side of the fence I'm on with it. I don't really think it's a kid's movie. I read in a review somewhere that it's a movie about being a kid, not a movie for kids. I think that describes it really well. It has humor and fantasy, but it deals with a lot of more adult themes as they affect a boy named Max. It's a movie that makes you think, and those aren't always the kind that you leave thinking, "Wow! That was entertaining!"
I had already purchased "The Wild Things" before I saw the movie, because I had been looking forward to it for so long. I was reading other things at the time, so I couldn't get to the book before the movie, although it turned out to not matter all that much. When it came time to actually start reading, though, I was a bit hesitant. For some reason, knowing how the movie portrayed the story made me unsure about the book. I didn't know if I wanted to delve even further into the issues presented in the movie just yet, especially knowing the brutal honesty Eggers comes at his work with. Turns out, I had nothing to fear.
In the acknowledgments at the end of the book, Eggers comments on the differences in his version of the story versus Spike Jonze's screenplay versus Marice Sendak's book, saying that the Max in all three versions of the story was somewhat based on the author of each. This meant that each story had it's own particular set of themes, while still remaining true to the overall story.
I really enjoyed Eggers take on the story. There are still a lot of adult themes dealing with Max's psychology and his personal struggles, but the story doesn't become overwhelmed by them. It deviates from the movie in some places, but never enough to change the overall story. Honestly, I don't think it would have mattered too much if it had. I didn't really think of the movie very often as I read, which I think shows that the book stands on it's own well enough. Eggers presumably could have taken the story in a completely different direction, and probably made an equally good novel, but that wasn't the task he was given.
There is one thing that I would change, both in the movie and in Eggers' novel: In the original book by Sendak, there is no judgment, no moral-to-the-story. Max misbehaves, he is sent to his room, he goes to where the wild things are, he rules as king, and then he comes home. There is no explanation for his behavior or justification of his actions. The movie and novel, however, add back story and issues for Max to deal with. Max goes to the island to deal with things he is faced with in his own reality. I think this is a really genius idea, and I like where both went with it. However, there's a lack of any kind of resolution. What has Max learned? How has he changed? I don't like authors to overtly spell things out for me, but I also need to see some indication of the change in the character for me to know it's taken place. I won't assume it's happened just because it makes sense that it would. It's an author's job to somehow show me that it has occurred. And neither the movie or book did that well enough for me to feel a real sense of completion. In the original book, this is not needed because Max never finds himself in a situation that asks him to change. In the books and movies, he is put in scenarios where he is asked to look at the behaviors of others and how they affect one another. In my opinion, this should cause some sort of change in Max's view of the world, or at least of himself. I wasn't left feeling satisfied that this had happened, for better or for worse.
Also, I'm all for subtlety, but I felt like there was a lack of connection between the issues of the wild things and Max's own problems. Maybe this was intentional, and Max was only supposed to see how it feels to have to try to understand a lot of other people's problems while still dealing with his own. In this particular point, however, I think the book did a better job than the movie of giving some indication of the possible connections.
While those seem like a large complaints, they doesn't take away from the story as a whole in a way that would leave me not recommending "The Wild Things". It's an interesting read, with characters and story lines that are believable, even in their most fantastic incarnations.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Not to brag, but...
Last night was my last writing class for the term. I haven't really mentioned much about the class since it started, but that's not because I haven't been enjoying it or learning from it. Quite the opposite is true, in fact. It's been a great experience. I've been forced to actually spend some time writing (although I procrastinated more than I'd like to admit a lot of the time), and I haven't always been happy with what I've come to class with, but everyone there was very supportive of each other. We encouraged one another and gave good critiques.
Something I was really impressed with was the range of voices in the class. Everyone's story had a distinct voice, and each voice really seemed to come from that specific person. I wouldn't bet my life on it, but I'd be fairly confident pointing out who wrote what just by reading each piece without a name on it. And here's where I stumble over my least favorite part of my writing:
I don't like my literary voice.
I have read so many amazing stories with unique, clear voices, and I get frustrated by my own. It feels boring. It's not quick or witty. I can't seem to manipulate words the way the writers and lyricists I really admire can.
So by now I'm sure you're wondering where the bragging that was alluded to in the title of this post comes in. I'll get to that now...
Last night, as I read my piece, I felt that same familiar dread sitting in the back of my head, wondering why, once again, I had come in with the least interesting writing style out of the entire group. To my serious amazement, the few minutes after I finished reading were filled with nothing but praise for what I'd written (and don't think that's all we do. There was a lot of critiquing in that class!). I was blown away by the compliments I was given about not only what I had written, but how it was written, the writing itself. I got some great suggestions from everyone, and was asked to explain more of the vision I have in mind for the story. This is where the really mind-blowing part comes in: my teacher (who is a published author), and several other people in my class who are either published or in the process of writing with the intent to publish, all suggested that I finish writing the story I have in my head, and send it to publishing companies. I didn't even know what to say (other than thank you, obviously).
Clearly, this was a very encouraging moment for me. I had been thinking that I would toss this project aside when the class was done and start working on another idea I have in mind. But last night has really inspired me to stick with what I've started. That may not mean I'll ever actually look into publishing it, but I feel like I owe it to my class (and myself) to finish this story.
Something I was really impressed with was the range of voices in the class. Everyone's story had a distinct voice, and each voice really seemed to come from that specific person. I wouldn't bet my life on it, but I'd be fairly confident pointing out who wrote what just by reading each piece without a name on it. And here's where I stumble over my least favorite part of my writing:
I don't like my literary voice.
I have read so many amazing stories with unique, clear voices, and I get frustrated by my own. It feels boring. It's not quick or witty. I can't seem to manipulate words the way the writers and lyricists I really admire can.
So by now I'm sure you're wondering where the bragging that was alluded to in the title of this post comes in. I'll get to that now...
Last night, as I read my piece, I felt that same familiar dread sitting in the back of my head, wondering why, once again, I had come in with the least interesting writing style out of the entire group. To my serious amazement, the few minutes after I finished reading were filled with nothing but praise for what I'd written (and don't think that's all we do. There was a lot of critiquing in that class!). I was blown away by the compliments I was given about not only what I had written, but how it was written, the writing itself. I got some great suggestions from everyone, and was asked to explain more of the vision I have in mind for the story. This is where the really mind-blowing part comes in: my teacher (who is a published author), and several other people in my class who are either published or in the process of writing with the intent to publish, all suggested that I finish writing the story I have in my head, and send it to publishing companies. I didn't even know what to say (other than thank you, obviously).
Clearly, this was a very encouraging moment for me. I had been thinking that I would toss this project aside when the class was done and start working on another idea I have in mind. But last night has really inspired me to stick with what I've started. That may not mean I'll ever actually look into publishing it, but I feel like I owe it to my class (and myself) to finish this story.
All this to say, apparently I'm working on my first novel!
Oh...and one of the people in my class said that it's clear from my writing that I am very well read. That is one of my favorite compliments I have ever received!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Experiencing music
A stroke of luck found me in a seat at the Lisa Hannigan/David Gray concert last night. Both are artists I like. However, this wasn't a concert that I was dying to see and had been waiting months for. Tickets were expensive, more than I would pay for a lot of artists I am dying to see, but a couple friends and an extremely reduced price on a ticket they were looking to sell were enough to get me to that show. And it was great.
There's just something about live music. Time and time again, bands that I have only moderately liked have blown me away when I've seen them live. Bands that I absolutely love have given me chills and made me want to see them over and over again. Of course, there have been a few let downs. They have been the minority, thankfully, owing to either luck or good personal taste (and since it's my taste in question, we're going to go with that one).
Seeing someone live, seeing them interact with their music, is really quite an honor, if you think about it. They are sharing something they created with you, right there in person. They could forget the lyrics, sing off-key, break a guitar string, dance like an idiot...they are up their on stage, making themselves vulnerable to a crowd. I love watching the way a singer moves with their music (John Mayer's foot stomp, David Gray's chicken legs and head shakes). I love seeing the band interact on stage, both musically and relationally. I love the reinterpretation of a song, the "live" version. I love the way lighting or stage set-up gives songs a visual component. I love singing along with my eyes closed, knowing that people around me are doing the same.
There's also the way that, somehow, live music becomes a part of you. I can turn up my stereo and really get into a song, but hearing it live, actually feeling the notes reverberating through the floor and off the walls and in my blood...it's audiosensory magic.
I won't say that Lisa Hannigan or David Gray are my new favorite artists, but I will say that I love them for the experience we shared last night.
Plus, I met them both, and they're real nice.
There's just something about live music. Time and time again, bands that I have only moderately liked have blown me away when I've seen them live. Bands that I absolutely love have given me chills and made me want to see them over and over again. Of course, there have been a few let downs. They have been the minority, thankfully, owing to either luck or good personal taste (and since it's my taste in question, we're going to go with that one).
Seeing someone live, seeing them interact with their music, is really quite an honor, if you think about it. They are sharing something they created with you, right there in person. They could forget the lyrics, sing off-key, break a guitar string, dance like an idiot...they are up their on stage, making themselves vulnerable to a crowd. I love watching the way a singer moves with their music (John Mayer's foot stomp, David Gray's chicken legs and head shakes). I love seeing the band interact on stage, both musically and relationally. I love the reinterpretation of a song, the "live" version. I love the way lighting or stage set-up gives songs a visual component. I love singing along with my eyes closed, knowing that people around me are doing the same.
There's also the way that, somehow, live music becomes a part of you. I can turn up my stereo and really get into a song, but hearing it live, actually feeling the notes reverberating through the floor and off the walls and in my blood...it's audiosensory magic.
I won't say that Lisa Hannigan or David Gray are my new favorite artists, but I will say that I love them for the experience we shared last night.
Plus, I met them both, and they're real nice.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Adventures in Reading: "Stardust" by Neil Gaimen
This is the first book I've reviewed on this blog that I have seen the movie version of first. It's also the first repeat author. A post of firsts!
What I'm about to say makes me uncomfortable. The literary student in me cringes slightly, because I am about to say something nearly blasphemous...
I liked the movie better.
Ok...backing up now...
I enjoyed this book. It was engaging, a real adult fairy tale. However, and maybe this is one of the few cases like this, it really felt lacking when compared to the movie. The movie felt much more full, and changes that were made in the movie really did a lot for it's entertainment value (gah, saying this stuff makes me feel like a traitor!).
Here's my real dilemma: I don't know how to accurately portray this book. It was a really quick read. I don't feel like most of the characters were especially dynamic, and though I cared about them and their situations, there was a lack of substance to them that I think could have been fixed by making the story longer and more full. The lack of character definition really surprised me because "American Gods", also by Gaimen, had exceptionally well-developed characters. I wonder if seeing the movie first is the reason I feel this way, or if viewing order is irrelevant. There's no way for me to really know, but I'm curious.
Having said all that, I still want to recommend this book. It held my interest, and the overall story was imaginative and charming. Gaimen has a unique perspective as an author, and that's evident in this story. So if you're looking for a fairly quick read, check this book out.
And after you read the book, watch the movie.
What I'm about to say makes me uncomfortable. The literary student in me cringes slightly, because I am about to say something nearly blasphemous...
I liked the movie better.
Ok...backing up now...
I enjoyed this book. It was engaging, a real adult fairy tale. However, and maybe this is one of the few cases like this, it really felt lacking when compared to the movie. The movie felt much more full, and changes that were made in the movie really did a lot for it's entertainment value (gah, saying this stuff makes me feel like a traitor!).
Here's my real dilemma: I don't know how to accurately portray this book. It was a really quick read. I don't feel like most of the characters were especially dynamic, and though I cared about them and their situations, there was a lack of substance to them that I think could have been fixed by making the story longer and more full. The lack of character definition really surprised me because "American Gods", also by Gaimen, had exceptionally well-developed characters. I wonder if seeing the movie first is the reason I feel this way, or if viewing order is irrelevant. There's no way for me to really know, but I'm curious.
Having said all that, I still want to recommend this book. It held my interest, and the overall story was imaginative and charming. Gaimen has a unique perspective as an author, and that's evident in this story. So if you're looking for a fairly quick read, check this book out.
And after you read the book, watch the movie.
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