7/18/2010
The Laugh
She had a laugh so close to pathetic. A monotone hoot three steps away from a sob. It was the laugh of someone stretched thin over the drum of life like so much goat skin. An existence hovering slimily between the worlds of torment and hysteria.
7/11/2010
Who
Who's knocking on the door? Bang. Who spread the dust galore? Who pushed us out wide? Faster we go. Who planted the seeds? Nobody knows. Who slumbers within? Silent. Whose slithers begin? Who rouses our spirits high? Awakening. Who trigers the light? We're taking it. Its us? Its them.
6/21/2010
The Muse?
A funny thing happened today--maybe some of you writers out there can understand this...
I haven't had the feeling to work on my young adult novel for quite some time; years, in fact. Yet today I sat down, put pen to notebook, and an entirely new facet of the story came to life with almost no willing at all. It was one of those magical moments where you feel as if you've tapped into some alternate reality where your story physically exists and the information is streaming through your brain and onto the page.
This experience then caused a series of emotions and questions to rise up within me. Where did this come from? How long will it last? Why today? Now, I don't believe in the standard meaning behind the term "writer's block." In my opinion, the only thing stopping anyone from writing is their desire. Putting pen to paper, no matter how painful the first 1000 words or so may read, will result in beautiful, meaningful and satisfying writing. Ultimately, where ever we decide to put our focus will be from where we reap.
So I ask myself, and anyone else reading this, who exactly is this muse that urges and encourages our creative endeavors and is there any way to make it work for us more efficiently?
I haven't had the feeling to work on my young adult novel for quite some time; years, in fact. Yet today I sat down, put pen to notebook, and an entirely new facet of the story came to life with almost no willing at all. It was one of those magical moments where you feel as if you've tapped into some alternate reality where your story physically exists and the information is streaming through your brain and onto the page.
This experience then caused a series of emotions and questions to rise up within me. Where did this come from? How long will it last? Why today? Now, I don't believe in the standard meaning behind the term "writer's block." In my opinion, the only thing stopping anyone from writing is their desire. Putting pen to paper, no matter how painful the first 1000 words or so may read, will result in beautiful, meaningful and satisfying writing. Ultimately, where ever we decide to put our focus will be from where we reap.
So I ask myself, and anyone else reading this, who exactly is this muse that urges and encourages our creative endeavors and is there any way to make it work for us more efficiently?
2/26/2010
Moon
If you know me, odds are that you also know that I am a huge fan and advocate of science fiction (SF) and fantasy (F) in different art forms. The artistic value of SF and F are often ignored. This is probably due to the overwhelming number of poorly written, poorly worked, poorly designed pieces that exist out there. And maybe even almost entirely because of Ed Wood.
I was in seventh heaven to see best picture Oscar nominations for not one, but two SF movies this year--Avatar and District 9. While I thoroughly enjoyed both films--finding each one highly entertaining, new twists on old favorites, and ground breaking in their own right--I was sad to see that a little known but amazingly beautiful SF movie called Moon was ignored by mainstream awards. The film has done well internationally (The director, Duncan Jones, is from the UK) and the Phoenix Film Critics Society Awards dubbed it "Most Overlooked Film". ( http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1182345/ see this link for more info and trailers)
Actor Sam Rockwell nails the character of Sam Bell, the lone caretaker of a lunar mining facility in the final weeks of his three-year contract. Duncan Jones wrote this script specifically for Rockwell and the collaboration has immensely paid off. Rockwell's performance is simultaneously funny and haunting, pulling you into the story in the vein of Tom Hanks' performance in Castaway. The story is fresh and exciting. It keeps you guessing but also reveals itself in a satisfying way. The art direction and cinematography are also amazing. The team managed to make the dry, gray craters of the moon appear beautiful and highly realistic.
Please go out and watch/rent/buy this movie. There are so many things to love about it. And above all, don't be afraid of the words "science fiction" or "fantasy." Keep an open mind, don't prejudge based on the stereotypes of the genres.
I was in seventh heaven to see best picture Oscar nominations for not one, but two SF movies this year--Avatar and District 9. While I thoroughly enjoyed both films--finding each one highly entertaining, new twists on old favorites, and ground breaking in their own right--I was sad to see that a little known but amazingly beautiful SF movie called Moon was ignored by mainstream awards. The film has done well internationally (The director, Duncan Jones, is from the UK) and the Phoenix Film Critics Society Awards dubbed it "Most Overlooked Film". ( http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1182345/ see this link for more info and trailers)
Actor Sam Rockwell nails the character of Sam Bell, the lone caretaker of a lunar mining facility in the final weeks of his three-year contract. Duncan Jones wrote this script specifically for Rockwell and the collaboration has immensely paid off. Rockwell's performance is simultaneously funny and haunting, pulling you into the story in the vein of Tom Hanks' performance in Castaway. The story is fresh and exciting. It keeps you guessing but also reveals itself in a satisfying way. The art direction and cinematography are also amazing. The team managed to make the dry, gray craters of the moon appear beautiful and highly realistic.
Please go out and watch/rent/buy this movie. There are so many things to love about it. And above all, don't be afraid of the words "science fiction" or "fantasy." Keep an open mind, don't prejudge based on the stereotypes of the genres.
2/21/2010
Winter
This winter was challenging. I've neglected my blog, my writing, and fun. I've wrapped myself in the dark but cozy cocoon of "wait." But the light is again lengthening and I sense within me a feeling of renewal and I'm eager for more. There are cracks in the shell of my chrysalis and I'm preparing to fully emerge.
I have a lot to say lately--regarding health care, the Olympics, baseball, movies, strange conversations, social networking sites and especially about possessions. I have plenty of posts on the back burner and plan to visit here often.
To sum, I'm back. I hope you didn't miss me too much.
I have a lot to say lately--regarding health care, the Olympics, baseball, movies, strange conversations, social networking sites and especially about possessions. I have plenty of posts on the back burner and plan to visit here often.
To sum, I'm back. I hope you didn't miss me too much.
11/21/2009
So, What do you do for a living?
So, I've sat down tonight to do some writing. It's been interesting...
Earlier this week, I awoke remembering an amazing and tangible dream, a dream in which I was not one of the players, but rather an omniscient audience member, and each scene played out to my dream consciousness like a movie. Whilst in my usual groggy early morning state where I undulate between my dream life and my waking life, I urged myself to remember the exquisite "dream movie" I was previously experiencing. "Remember the man with the robot wife," I repeated to myself. I awoke later with no recollection of the dream.
It wasn't until I was in the shower shampooing my hair that my subconscious spoke to my consciousness and suddenly a flash of a particularly sublime image from the dream popped into my head accompanied by that fantastic "AH-HA" moment--one like I haven't experienced since my years as a writing student. All of you writers out there, you know the exact feeling I'm describing. Its the one where you know you've just tapped into something so visceral and human, your entire body tingles and you just cannot wait to put pen to paper or fingertips to keys. By the time I got to work, I had again forgotten the dream.
About thirty minutes after getting to work, my subconscious took pity and urged another image from the dream into my head. I cut my employee off in midsentence, scrambled for a scrap of paper and jotted down on the back of a bright orange flyer "the man w/the robot wife, cops, junk shop, wife like a sketch doll, joints, blonde." I wasn't going to lose this again.
So fast-forward to this evening. I'm watching part two of a History Channel documentary on the founding fathers that I got from Netflix. At the end they quote Thomas Jefferson (my current intellectual crush). Part of it was "...I like the dreams of the future better than the histories of the past..." As the end credits rolled I thought, "you know what, Tom, you're right." I was instantly inspired to put my dream down in story form. I fired up some incense and a trance cd by Dj Tiesto for mood, boiled up some tea and opened up Microsoft word. I was really doing it, my first honest attempt at fiction writing since graduation in summer of 2007.
I started off in a frenzy. The mood and tone of the narrator came to me instantly since I'd been mentally writing my story all week. My intro is priceless, it introduces the world of the story, the basic setting and the character of the junk shop proprietor in a really lovely way. Then after nearly 500 words that old nag started talking to me. Call it whatever you want, the ego, the inner goblin, call it the little devil that sits on your shoulder, but that voice came to me and threw a wrench in the spoke of my inner writing machine. "This isn't good enough, why do you bother, who cares about this guy, why are you doing this, what is the point, etc, etc, etc."
So I sat back in frustration, made a fresh cup of tea, and distracted myself by nipping up my pet cat, Missy, and watching her go nuts with her toys. Then I gathered my senses and pulled out a fun little book called Page After Page by Heather Sellers. I opened it up at random and stopped at page 171, chapter 23 entitled "When do you say it?" Here's a quote from that page: "To say 'I'm a writer' implies you have made a crucial move from the land of the knuckleheaded to the land of the brilliant, the famous. To say you are a writer was to stay something akin to 'I am a professional pitcher for the Atlanta braves.' You'd better really be on the team, or you sound pretty dumb."
This really made me chuckle because I ask myself this all the time. I haven't written any fiction in over two years yet in my heart and soul I know myself as a writer. So where does this disconnect come from? This obvious gap between who and what I know myself to be and the actions (or nonactions) of my daily life? Is it fear of success or failure? Laziness? Lack of discipline? I knew immediately that I needed to document all this in my blog, I wanted to remember this moment fully and in entirety. The moment where I stopped asking myself the question.
And now we've come full circle to this very moment. Dj Tiesto is still playing, but the incense has long burned out and tea has long gone cold. I know who I am. I know what I love to do. I don't have to analyze it in order to be it and do it.
So now I pose the question what do you do for a living? Are you an accountant? A mechanic? A barista? A sales clerk? Or are you more than that? I know what I am, I'm a writer.
Earlier this week, I awoke remembering an amazing and tangible dream, a dream in which I was not one of the players, but rather an omniscient audience member, and each scene played out to my dream consciousness like a movie. Whilst in my usual groggy early morning state where I undulate between my dream life and my waking life, I urged myself to remember the exquisite "dream movie" I was previously experiencing. "Remember the man with the robot wife," I repeated to myself. I awoke later with no recollection of the dream.
It wasn't until I was in the shower shampooing my hair that my subconscious spoke to my consciousness and suddenly a flash of a particularly sublime image from the dream popped into my head accompanied by that fantastic "AH-HA" moment--one like I haven't experienced since my years as a writing student. All of you writers out there, you know the exact feeling I'm describing. Its the one where you know you've just tapped into something so visceral and human, your entire body tingles and you just cannot wait to put pen to paper or fingertips to keys. By the time I got to work, I had again forgotten the dream.
About thirty minutes after getting to work, my subconscious took pity and urged another image from the dream into my head. I cut my employee off in midsentence, scrambled for a scrap of paper and jotted down on the back of a bright orange flyer "the man w/the robot wife, cops, junk shop, wife like a sketch doll, joints, blonde." I wasn't going to lose this again.
So fast-forward to this evening. I'm watching part two of a History Channel documentary on the founding fathers that I got from Netflix. At the end they quote Thomas Jefferson (my current intellectual crush). Part of it was "...I like the dreams of the future better than the histories of the past..." As the end credits rolled I thought, "you know what, Tom, you're right." I was instantly inspired to put my dream down in story form. I fired up some incense and a trance cd by Dj Tiesto for mood, boiled up some tea and opened up Microsoft word. I was really doing it, my first honest attempt at fiction writing since graduation in summer of 2007.
I started off in a frenzy. The mood and tone of the narrator came to me instantly since I'd been mentally writing my story all week. My intro is priceless, it introduces the world of the story, the basic setting and the character of the junk shop proprietor in a really lovely way. Then after nearly 500 words that old nag started talking to me. Call it whatever you want, the ego, the inner goblin, call it the little devil that sits on your shoulder, but that voice came to me and threw a wrench in the spoke of my inner writing machine. "This isn't good enough, why do you bother, who cares about this guy, why are you doing this, what is the point, etc, etc, etc."
So I sat back in frustration, made a fresh cup of tea, and distracted myself by nipping up my pet cat, Missy, and watching her go nuts with her toys. Then I gathered my senses and pulled out a fun little book called Page After Page by Heather Sellers. I opened it up at random and stopped at page 171, chapter 23 entitled "When do you say it?" Here's a quote from that page: "To say 'I'm a writer' implies you have made a crucial move from the land of the knuckleheaded to the land of the brilliant, the famous. To say you are a writer was to stay something akin to 'I am a professional pitcher for the Atlanta braves.' You'd better really be on the team, or you sound pretty dumb."
This really made me chuckle because I ask myself this all the time. I haven't written any fiction in over two years yet in my heart and soul I know myself as a writer. So where does this disconnect come from? This obvious gap between who and what I know myself to be and the actions (or nonactions) of my daily life? Is it fear of success or failure? Laziness? Lack of discipline? I knew immediately that I needed to document all this in my blog, I wanted to remember this moment fully and in entirety. The moment where I stopped asking myself the question.
And now we've come full circle to this very moment. Dj Tiesto is still playing, but the incense has long burned out and tea has long gone cold. I know who I am. I know what I love to do. I don't have to analyze it in order to be it and do it.
So now I pose the question what do you do for a living? Are you an accountant? A mechanic? A barista? A sales clerk? Or are you more than that? I know what I am, I'm a writer.
11/09/2009
What Is Story?
I thought it would be appropriate to launch this blog by asking the question, "what is story?" There are probably as many answers as there are people and that’s what I find so fascinating. Even as I sit here pondering my own question, I cannot seem to come up with a clear answer. The best way I can describe story is a series of instances that follow a common thread in which the central characters involved experience some sort of change.
We all can think back to the first stories in our memory--Goldilocks and the Three Bears comes to my mind. What about these early stories stick in our minds after all these years? What about them is so impressive?
The strength of such pure stories, be it fairy tales, urban legends, creation myths or even jokes, is their simplicity. They progress in a natural way from plot point to plot point without much need for detail. Goldilocks comes to the Bears' house, tries each bowl of porridge, tries each chair, tries each bed and then falls asleep where the returning Bear family finds her later and she runs off in fear. A to B to C to D to E to F to G.
At the essence of all great stories is the firm foundation of a naturally progressing plot--however artfully designed to test the mind and imagination of the reader or viewer. The best stories are the artful ones, the ones that develop like mysteries, unfolding layers of truth in such a way that leads us closer to the heart of the matter so that it can be resolved.
We all can think back to the first stories in our memory--Goldilocks and the Three Bears comes to my mind. What about these early stories stick in our minds after all these years? What about them is so impressive?
The strength of such pure stories, be it fairy tales, urban legends, creation myths or even jokes, is their simplicity. They progress in a natural way from plot point to plot point without much need for detail. Goldilocks comes to the Bears' house, tries each bowl of porridge, tries each chair, tries each bed and then falls asleep where the returning Bear family finds her later and she runs off in fear. A to B to C to D to E to F to G.
At the essence of all great stories is the firm foundation of a naturally progressing plot--however artfully designed to test the mind and imagination of the reader or viewer. The best stories are the artful ones, the ones that develop like mysteries, unfolding layers of truth in such a way that leads us closer to the heart of the matter so that it can be resolved.
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