If I were truly a dedicated NaNoian this should have been my first NaNo post. Well, not wanting to be too crazy this year, I’ve decided not to NaNo in 2013. I have previously NaNoed and have the completion certificate hanging on the wall. I even have bounced the manuscript out to a couple of editors and agents.
This year, however, instead of something new I shall continue with my vow of completion commitment. No more new starts until finishing half-started projects–umm, those of merit. Some projects should keep on hibernating for both our sakes.
Yes, I am intent on finishing the middle grade historical novel I’ve been working on for the last ten years. I know, that’s an awfully long time, especially when in just a month’s time I cranked out a YA novel a couple of years. Contemporary fiction , I’ve discovered, is so much easier than writing middle reader historical fiction. researching for a historical novel is one big onion of peel and write. As soon as I peel back one layer of information another layer is revealed. Yes, peeling historical onions do make me cry. Getting facts straight, setting up proper verisimilitude, along with creating catchy characters, scintillating setting, and convincing complications, conflict, and climax is tough stuff. At least for me. I’m determined to finish this odyssey of a pioneer tale I started, especially when I’ve had an agent express interest.
Sooo, Na No not now, but thanks for the invite. This year my RSVP box is checked “next year, perhaps.”
Edgar Allan Poe Museum (Richmond, Virginia) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Yeah, ravens. Who doesn’t know The Raven? Don’t tell my freshmen, but after we get their poetry notebooks all turned in we are pretty much done with the curriculum poems and now it’s verse revelry. This is where I bring out poems that I’m hoping will be memorable. I like to bring out The Raven because, of course, it’s well-done, it’s a classic, it’s a trademark, and plus it’s creepy.Come on, you know what I’m talking about. A guy passing a quiet evening in his library and a crazy overgrown crow bops in and redundantly cries “Nevermore!” That’s nutsy stuff.
There are scads of versions to pursue–everything from the smaltzy Vincent Price movie to Christopher Walken’s chilling audio clip to The Simpson’s animation silliness. While all these have their own value, I have discovered my new favorite.
I’d love to know what you think.
Christopher Lee is riveting, and the illustrations–I never knew they existed!
So–Poe is the O in October not only because he left this world in such an ambiguous way on October 7th, but also because he is Oh So Creepy and for me October is the creepy month. I’m not going there about the bizarre event of parading kids around at night in costumes to hit up strangers for candy (don’t get me going on that one)–no, no, it’s not really that. It’s more due to the fact that October signifies the diminishing of daylight and I sorely miss my daylight. It’s darn right creepy to wake up at 5 am in pitch black and then have it just as light deprived at 5 pm. October must have inspired Poe to dwell so much in darkness. He definitely rates the King of Oh-My-Goodness-That-Freaks-Me-Out writing.
English: Cover of the pulp magazine Weird Tales (September 1939, vol. 34, no. 3) featuring The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. Cover art by Virgil Finlay. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
”The Song of the Lark ”Oil on canvas, 1884 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
As I continually research my own pioneer novel-in-progress, I return to favorites for inspiration. Having reread most of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House of the Prairie series, I am moving on to more grown-up fare such as Willa Cather’s Midwest trilogy of My Antonia, Song of the Lark, and O Pioneers!
Cather’s writing continually surprises me with its subtle acuity. She follows the nineteenth century omniscient style of narration that is no longer in vogue, yet as I read her seamless insights into each character, I realize I am easily visiting each character’s thoughts while still in the scene. That’s art. It adds so much more dimension to the reading that I find myself slipping from third person limited into omni in my own writing. *Sigh* Maybe I shouldn’t be reading Willa Cather–at least until I get my manuscript’s revisions tidied back up.
In that regard, unless you have your own concerns about being overly influenced while writing your own pioneer epic, I suggest rereading or experiencing Willa Cather’s O Pioneer!
Cover of O Pioneers!
Why?
It’s good stuff. Really good stuff. Setting, for instance. Turn to page 97 of your Random House Vintage Classic version and feast:
(Part III: Winter Memories: I)
Winter has settled down over the Divide again; the season in which Nature recuperates, in which she sinks to sleep between the fruitfulness of autumn and the passion of spring. The birds have gone. The teeming life that goes on down in the long grass is exterminated. The prairie-dog keeps his hole. The rabbits run shivering from one frozen garden patch to another and are hard put to it to find frost-bitten cabbage-stalks. At night the coyotes roam the wintery waste, howling for food. The variegated fields are all one color now; the pastures, the stubble, the roads, the sky are the same leaden gray. The hedgerows and trees are scarcely perceptible against the bare earth, whose slaty hue they have taken on. The ground is frozen so hard that it bruises the foot to walk in the roads or in the ploughed fields. It is like an iron country, and the spirit is oppressed by its rigor and melancholy. One could easily believe that in that dead landscape the germs of life and fruitfulness were extinct forever.
Personification, alliteration, imagery galore, tone, diction–it’s a banquet of literary delight. Cather dedicates this full exposition to set up how this coldest of seasons affects the characters. Steinbeck did much the same in Grapes of Wrath. Remember the turtle scene?
Sometimes I think we forget the importance of slowly revealing the story in our pressing need to “let’s get on with it” plot modernity mentality. Yet, there is an absolute pleasure in immersing oneself in the cadence of well-placed and balanced words.
Oh Willa–your pioneers keep singing to me of your prairie love through your song of fields, seasonal cadence, and your indelible tribute to those who left their mark upon the land.
Writers, yes you. Why are you reading this post? Wait, don’t go quite yet. While you’re here you might as well avoid that write now feeling a bit longer.
Write now?
Yes, write now. I should be, and you should be writing right now instead of avoidance tactics. Oh yes, they exist. Beats me why I will suddenly germinate 50 + 1 excuses to avoid sitting down and getting down to business. It’s really no excuse that I have excuses because I have plenty of motivation. Look at this incentive list:
The novel is almost finished.
My writing group likes it.
A New York editor critique it favorably.
An agent from the same conference asked for sample chapters because she has clients looking for this genre.
I still like the manuscript, even after years of research, rewrites, and still more rewrites.
So why avoid writing right now?
Because…
I have to eat breakfast and since I’m really craving granola to go with the new lemon vanilla Greek yogurt I just bought I need to make a fresh batch and while I’m waiting for the granola to bake I might as well scrub the stove top, the Faberware pot, the sink, and start the dishwasher. I should check the woodstove–might need a poke or a new log. I should sweep up around the hearth, maybe sweep in general. I’ll get these papers out of the way, wait these are bills–I should sit down and pay these. But first I should check the granola.
Before you tsk at my total lack of discipline I did fire up the laptop with good intentions.
But, you know how it is…
Emails have to be checked, lesson plans filed, the classroom website updated. Check the granola again.
So–
The morning has slipped into early afternoon, which is not my best time of creativity, since I am a morning energy person. I best take a nap and recharge the mental batteries.
Two hours later…
The MEPA brought home a new batch of movies from the library and I haven’t spent much time with him today. He wants to know how the novel is progressing. Right now? Yes, I should write now.
P.S.
Later that night…
Five chapters roughed in (what revision number is this again?) and I squeezed in a movie. It’s amazing what a little fresh granola can do for the creative muse.
50 years of Bond films
is definitely a time of reflection.
The six James Bond actors of EON Productions films, as they appear in their individual gun barrel sequences, from left to right – Sean Connery, George Lazenby, Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan, and Daniel Craig. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Last night The MEPA and
I rented Skyfall to celebrate that I arrived
home with absolutely no papers to grade. Perhaps the first time
since school started. Although we experienced Skyfall in all its IMAX wonder, there’s
nothing like cozing up on the sofa in my IKEA robe with a handful
of chocolate macaroons, watching a Bond flick with my favorite guy
next to me. Who needs to wait for the weekend?
Bond. James Bond.
English: James Bond films (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
He is part of the culture. An
icon. An institution. And he’s held his age quite well,
considering he’s been shot at, tortured, survived impossible
reckless encounters with cars, rockets, really big men with iron
teeth–let alone his penchant for fast women and fast cars.
Drinking martinis alone should have aged him. I’m thinking the
choice of Bond reflects what we expect of our male ideal. Sean
Connery: THE James Bond–cool, calm, quick with a well-place quip.
A man’s man, and every woman’s ideal. Connery reflected the
sixties male of being in control of his environment, and that
included women.
Sean Connery (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Roger Moore: It must have been tough following Sean’s footsteps. Sean exuded capability, while Moore
attempted charm. He tended to mistake panache for pandering
and I just couldn’t warm up to his lack of physical prowess.
English: Sir Roger Moore (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Timothy Dalton: Dalton had the
looks, charm, and physicality of the suave secret agent. I had
hoped for a longer run.
Pierce Bronsan: A great
transition from Remington Steele to steely nerves and smooth demeanor. Bronsan brought class to the series and reflected the nineties male who still showed a bit of chauvinism towards women, but also respect–once they earned it.
Pierce Bronsan (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Daniel Craig: When Bronsan got
bounced from the series the pressure must have been tremendous for the next Bond in question, yet this blonde Bond has transcended and
redefined the role. He epitomizes the tough male who is willing to show his compassionate side. I see Craig’s Bond as the modern King Arthur, tough yet revealing a vulnerability. Bond. If you think about
it, he is a reflection of what we expect out of our males for that
particular era. So, bond today? No pressure, guys. Just
be good with a punch, be it verbal or physical, and don’t forget to shake your martini. Oh yeah, it’s okay to shed a tear for a fallen comrade, should the need arise. Any votes for yourfavorite Bond?
at least according to some of my freshmen. I can understand their point. Who wants to study grammatically incorrect phrasings and try to make sense of what they are talking about when you are doing all you can at trying to get a handle on whether it’s “A” day or “B” day and what lunch you have (“ummm, first lunch on “A” day or was that “B” day?). But we’ve made a commitment to Common Core and it’s full speed ahead.
Cover of Dead Poets Society
Actually, I’ve always been a proponent of poetry. I’ve brought cowboy poets into the classroom, Beatle songs, clips of Robin Williams doing his crazy wonderful teacher in Dead Poets Society, and provided recipes for poems. I had football players writing love poems and entering contests, mud boggers writing sonnets about their trucks. We’ve explored performance poetry through Taylor Mali’s incredible YouTube videos and we’ve participated in a packed-out community program of youth performing their own poetry.
Common Core though, I’ve noticed, has dented my zing. I’ve been having students prepare for their SBAC (I should know what that means) by writing up reaction paragraphs to each poem as a means of them practicing their critical thinking skills. There is nothing wrong with understanding and recognizing how, or what, or why the poem works, yet poetry is so different from prose. It should encourage the soul to sing. I’m afraid in my zeal for my students to do well on their tests by getting their writing skills up to stuff I’ve lost my way towards my original goal of greeting me with “What’s the poem today?” with that anticipation of a new flavor to relish.
Hmm, some Walt Whitman and Song of Myself might do it…
Right now we are toughing out poetry with my freshmen. *sigh* “We study poetry because oral storytelling came before the written language came into existence, plus many of the elements we study in poetry exist in fiction–you know, like imagery, diction, syntax, metaphors, analogies–so get to know poetry and you’ll understand and enjoy fiction that much more.” And the question? (Jeopardy music, please)
Why do we study poetry?
Returning to the anticipated second quarter…(quick, quick, I’m losing them)
Once I get to short stories in the curriculum it’s pretty easy sailing, since my students are versed in plot, characters, setting, and such. Theme sometimes throws them; however, point-of-view gets them pondering. For instance, trying to explain the omniscient narrator is tricky these days. Back when, I used to say, “The Omniscient narrator is a lot like God–you know, everywhere and knowing everything about everybody.” I’m getting less comfortable about using that analogy in such a forthright manner. I still believe it’s a valid analogy, yet don’t want to offend any of my students. Let alone get the ACLU or other NSA types coming after me.
Cover of The Long Winter
Another problem with trying to explain the omniscient narrator is that the old-fashioned version of the narrator filling into the details has changed into something quite different. For instance, I recently reread The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder (don’t snicker, it’s a great read, besides it’s for research–really) and Wilder includes in the story what’s happening to the town’s people and to Almanzo and Cap who are all caught up in a grueling blizzard, in an inclusive fluid manner. I rarely come across this type of narrative style today. As Bob Dylan once said, “Times they are achanging.”
In the last few years I have noticed a trend where the omni narrative is now designated as separate chapters. This at first proved quite annoying because the point-of-view kept changing. One chapter would be one character, the next a completely different one. I felt like I was juggling characters to the point of wanting to run an Excel sheet to keep it all straight.
The last few novels I’ve read have run this narrative style, and every new book I’m pulling from my suggestion list and review newspapers seem to be pandering this new style. I keep checking them out though. I’m either getting used to this new kaleidoscopic style of story-telling or I’m so starved to read I’m willing to put up with it.
Here are some examples of recent titles with the switch-hit character changing technique. Enjoyable reads all, but fret and nuisance, doesn’t anyone write in the old-time omni narrative style anymore?
The house is at sixes and sevens
from morning ’til night over the
child! I want some peace here, I
don’t care how, but one way we
won’t have it is by rushing up and
down the country every time someone
hears of a new quack.
–Captain Keller from the William Gibson play The Miracle Worker
This is the first, and perhaps only time I’ve heard the expression “sixes and sevens” used. Looking at context clues I figured it meant to be in some sort of disarray or confusion. Turns out I’m not too far from my figuring.
History
Apparently in Olde England, even going back to Chaucer’s time, there once existed a dice game that involved throwing the nearly impossible combination of sixes and sevens and was referred to as “on six and seven.” Eventually the phrase turned to “sixes and sevens” meaning the recklessness of trying for something that is difficult to obtain. Today it generally means to be in a state of confusion.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Application
Although it is not a popular phrase today, at least I don’t hear it much, it does make sense. Its use is perfect in The Miracle Worker since it definitely describes the chaos that comes with having to cope with Helen Keller’s frantic and undisciplined state of behavior before Annie Sullivan arrives to become Teacher.
My Thoughts
If a situation starts to get out of hand and sense can’t be found, I tend to say, “I can’t make heads nor tails of this!” or “This is crazy!” Saying the situation is “sixes and sevens” just doesn’t cut the mustard. for me.
Hmm, chasing quacks, making heads nor tails, cutting mustard…I have more research to do about What I Say.
Celebrity spotting can be fun and definitely livens up conversations as people trade their “I saw —- at —–,” quips and crows. Spotting is one thing, encounters are another.
Encounters are where you actually get to have a conversation, or spend some time with the person of celebre status. For instance, I’ve spotted Viggo Mortenson signing autographs at an art gallery showing (promoting his North American photo art), the Portland Blazers at the airport (wow–they are tall), Ralph Nader giving a speech, but never conversed with them, hence no encounter checkmark.
Ralph Nader (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Viggo Mortensen (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
This summer while vacationing, The MEPA and I were walking in a park and I tend to get annoyed when the people in front of me are moving too slow. I would not be a good candidate for Disneyland action in summer. I am about to pass this older gentleman in front of me, when I hear The MEPA speak up, “Would that be the famous Ben Stein?” and I do a double-take when I hear, “Yes, it is.” And it IS Ben Stein! I think, “Cool, Ben Stein,” and begin to give him his space, because it must get tedious to have the public pester you just because you are famous. But then he starts talking to us and not wanting to be rude we match stride with him and before you know it I’m walking next to Ben Stein around the park. Here’s what I basically remember:
Ben: And what do you do for a living?
Me: I’m a teacher (this is where he got interested)
Ben: Really? What do you teach?
Me: Freshmen English and Senior AP Literature (then he got really interested)
Ben: I would love to come to an AP English class. Could I come to your class? What would I have to do? (he was serious!)
I then explained about security measures, about how he would have to let the high school knowing he is coming and how he would have to sign in, and at this point I’m thinking “Do I really want Ben Stein watch me teach?” It’s a bit intimidating, if you think about it. Here is one of the most famed teachers (at least of popular culture) asking to drop in on my class:
As we continued to walk Ben expressed his concerns about students and literature:
Ben: I don’t think kids today read enough. Do you teach The Great Gatsby?
Me: Actually, that’s taught at the junior level.
Ben: Do the kids like it?
Me: I think they like it better since Leonardo di Caprio is in the new movie.
Ben: Have you seen the movie?
I replied I hadn’t, explaining it looked a bit too hipped up for my taste, and considering I didn’t like Baz Luhrman’s version of Romeo and Juliet I didn’t think I would be seeing his version of Gatsby anytime soon. Ben agreed he didn’t care for Luhrman’s R&J either, but floored me by saying he’s seen The Great Gatsby thirteen times! Thirteen times! I didn’t even watch Star Wars more than five times when it came out in the theaters (yes, my age is showing again, darn it).
Our walk ended because we were continuing on and he wanted to return and walk back to the park entrance. Since that encounter I wonder if I will ever get a phone call from our principal saying Ben Stein is in the office and says he is ready to be my guest for the day. I’ve decided to create a Ben Stein lesson plan should the event arise.
First of all, I can’t resist attendance. I go by class seating not alphabet.
“Bronson, Taylor, Reynolds–oh, Stein. Yes, you must be new. Welcome to class.”
Of course, there would be introductions: “Class, this is Ben Stein. He is interested in AP Literature. Mr. Stein, I believe you were a teacher once?”
Maybe I would turn the class over to him. As long as he didn’t talk about economics, I think my students would be interested in what he had to say. Maybe he would talk about The Great Gatsby. This could actually have possibilities.
So, if you are walking in the park and have an encounter with Ben Stein, could you please tell him I’ve got the lesson plan ready?
Now that it’s back to the 5 to 9 world of teaching (yes, 5 am to 9 pm–hi, ho, hi, ho work is all I know), I’m reflecting a bit on my splurge of reading over the summer. I ever so did try to balance my reading and writing, but I admittedly succumbed to reading way more than I intended [see Writing Goals *lol*].
My reading proved to be rather eclectic and I found myself segmenting my choices into three distinct categories:
Sippers: Books I tend to read at night before falling asleep. My mainstay sipper has been Da Vinci’s Notebook. Unfortunately this is an abridged version so it does not have any illustrations. However, it still captivates my attention and I find myself sticky flagging all sorts of amazing insights. This man’s genius is truly astounding. Quotes of note:
The natural desire of good men is knowledge.
I obey thee. O Lord, first because of the love which i ought reasonably to bear thee; secondly, because thou knowest how to shorten or prolong the lives of men.
Good literature proceeds from men of natural probity.
It is easier to resist at the beginning than at the end.
(And this is just 30 pages into the observations section. I need to read painting, anatomy, flight–and there’s more yet to explore! I may be sipping on this all year.
Dippers: These were titles I didn’t read cover-to-cover, only reading a page here, a section there, relishing a line or two, but not feeling the urge to sit down and absolutely, positively read it. This is the type of book to prop behind the cereal bowl, or lunch plate or pass the time with in the bookstore while waiting for the MEPA to finish selecting the perfect card for his sister. A fave dipper this summer:
and then we come to the major reads section, those books that I couldn’t put down, the ones where I meant to read a couple of chapters and return to writing. Uh huh.
Flippers: Flip. Flip. Flip. I’m flying through these books because–
A. The writing is soooo good I can’t stop reading
B. The storyline is amazingly riveting
C. I’m grooving on the combination of good read, soft breezes, comfy hammock
Titles that were so flipping wonderful:
These both claimed an afternoon each. And of course I had to read the sequel, and the other books in the series. And then write up my GoodReads reviews. Whoosh, there go those writing goals…
How was your summer reading? Did you also sip, dip, and flip?
Pam Webb 