Challenge Essay 3: Formerly One Fine Day with Colonel Mustard

Essay 3 from the #Flashback2School College App Blog Challenge. Rules here.

“ Write an essay somehow inspired by super-huge mustard.”

Of all the topics we considered when putting together this blog challenge, the super-huge mustard was the one that gave me the most trouble. No single idea resonated with me completely. I thought about writing from the perspective of a futuristic scientist or space commander who had discovered a massive quantity of mysterious yellow goop. Forced to find a use for this tangy, spicy substance, the scientist-commander would decide to bottle it and sell it as a foodstuff. (Soylent yellow is people! Yes, I considered it.)

I also thought about writing an essay that revolved around Grey Poupon TV ads from the 1980s. A wealthy man being driven around in a luxury vehicle would scroll down his car window and speak to a similarly well-dressed man in another car. Excuse me, sir, would you have any Grey Poupon? No? How about gray coupons? No? Would you happen to have a finely aged poodle thereabouts, then, good sir? I discarded that idea quickly.

I finally settled on writing a short stylistic biography about Colonel Mustard as a young man. The Secret Life of Colonel Mustard, I wanted to call it. (By stylistic, I mean the Colonel Mustard I envisioned was a pompous windbag. Get it? "Super-huge" Mustard?) This explains the graphic I created to accompany my essay.

Well, this essay is about none of those ideas above. I noticed something belatedly that seemed more suited to a personal essay.

Since age 15 or so, I have written almost exclusively from the male point of view or have populated my writing with male protagonists. It’s not intentional. When I’m in a story, I usually see the world through a boy or a man’s eyes, though that male may not be stereotypically male. (If I were to replace all the pronouns with “she” and “her,” I think these characters’ thoughts and behavior would still ring true—with certain exceptions for experiences that are exclusively feminine, of course.)

All of the protagonists in the scenarios I described above could have been female. But automatically, I put myself in the body of a male.

Is my inner writer a man? Is writing from a female perspective too personal? Is writing from a masculine viewpoint my way of trying to understand men? (There were certainly many moments in my teenage years, and yes, even in my young adult years, where I puzzled over things they did or said.) Or do I actually identify with men more easily than I do women?

To answer this question, I examined my few female characters. Worried that they’re too stereotypically female, I react against that, having them take on traditionally male jobs or behaviors. As a person who likes to go against the grain, I wanted to challenge others’ expectations of what these women would do. But these attempts to turn women into nonconformists seemed superficial, hardly authentic. They also became too defined by these showy moments of “Look, I’m not a stereotype!” and got lost in them. Not good.

How do I feel when I write from a male viewpoint? After spending a period writing (and seeing the world) from male eyes, I often feel like I’m turning into a man. I also wonder if my male protagonists are “too feminine” in their thoughts and behavior. Do I need to have them “man up,” so to speak? These cognitions carry with them an entirely different set of questions about gender roles, societal expectations, and personal prejudices. Why not have a male character who is less macho? We know from past research in psychology that men and women are more similar than we think, and that traits we normally assign to women (e.g., being romantic, falling in love first) actually describe men more than they do women. Are we selling men short by not allowing them to be warm, caring beings?

After considering these questions, I’ve concluded that writing from a male perspective serves many purposes for me. I do use it as a way to help myself understand men. Simultaneously, it is also a way to distance myself from the character’s thoughts and behavior, i.e., it is a less personal experience.

But here’s the problem. If I say I’m trying to understand men by writing from “the” male perspective, I’ve fallen in precisely the same trap of stereotyping I was trying to avoid. I can really only understand that given person’s motivations and perspectives, not all men’s, through the viewpoints I adopt in my work.

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Did you enjoy my essay?  Check out my fellow challengers' essays below. Better yet, join us and write your own!
Challenger Susan
Challenger Elizabeth

Challenge Essay 1: Ren Diller's Ultimate Guide to Surviving Alienhood

Essay 1 from the #Flashback2School College App Blog Challenge. Rules here.

“If you could be raised by robots, dinosaurs, or aliens, who would you pick?”

I’d choose to have aliens as parents. Here’s the thing, though—my parents are already from another planet.

Okay, back up. Let me explain.

I was the birthday girl who proudly toted a tray of ice-cream-cone cupcakes to school in second grade. My mom had struggled with what to make for the occasion. We didn’t “do” cupcakes at home, so I felt extra-special as I bestowed a cake-filled cone upon each of my classmates. As the kids around me bit into their frosting-free treats (no frosting, my mom didn’t do frosting, either), I began to hear exclamations of disgust. “Eww! It looks like poop!”

My mother had had the inspired plan of sprinkling the cake batter with peanut M&M’s. Festive, right? As the cupcakes baked, the colorful candy shells melted off, leaving gooey brown lumps lodged between crumbs of golden cake. Sure, they didn’t look so appetizing. But what right did my classmates have to say so?

I was crushed. Some of the kids finished their cupcakes, no harm done, but many of them discarded theirs after the first bite. Who could blame them? There were images of poo-cones dancing in their heads.

At home, when my mom asked how her cake cones had gone over, I just mumbled a few unhappy words and went to go hide my disappointment inside a book. She never tried to make them again.

It wasn’t just that we had different languages. It was hard to pass along customs. How do you explain your traditions and culture when they’re the only ones you’ve known? To an alien, these seem automatic and natural, not something you teach. In our house, the right way to receive compliments was to put ourselves down. With my mother, this extended to accepting gifts. Every single birthday gift, Mother’s Day gift, holiday gift...she found something about them to critique. She refused them; she returned them. I grew up with a distinctly warped way of reacting to gifts that didn’t win me any new friends. In fact, I may still owe a few apologies.

My alien parents were a source of frustration, and occasionally mortification, for most of my life. My childhood is filled with stories of awkwardness, of unintended rudeness, of brazen why-are-you-two-so-unreasonable arguments.

It wasn’t until I became an expat at the age 28 that I began to understand all of these inexplicable events of my childhood for the first time. I knew theoretically the life of an alien was hard. I had seen how my parents struggled to make simple requests while shopping. I saw how they shied away from school events, too embarrassed by their English skills, too proud to make some unknowing social faux pas.

I saw that they favored businesses, teachers, and doctors where their language was spoken. There, they felt at ease. They could communicate elegantly; they could be understood perfectly. Not just their words. At other establishments frequented by aliens, people understood their background and family history, their customs, their fears, and the challenges they faced. There was no “being alien.” Not among your own people. But I didn’t understand just how frightening it is to be an alien until I became an alien myself.

I’ve navigated over 30 years of culture shock, language barriers, different customs, and strange beliefs, all within my home. Outside my home, that was an adventure, too. Things that were simple for my friends—what to say when ordering eggs, what to wear to a dress event, the right things to ask during a college interview—they weren’t easy for me. I didn’t have coaching. It was like everyone around me had gotten their own user manual for living life, but I could only check mine out of the library. But the funny thing is, I think everyone feels this way, maybe just a little.

I got used to being a little “weird,” a little out-of-place. I never quite fit in, but I didn’t mind. I grew to like it. I found that I didn’t really care what others thought of me. This became a wonderful gift—the gift of freedom from judgment, from expectation. I can break away from the conventional. I’m not afraid to voice the unpopular opinion, to make my own choices.

And other bonuses? I’m curious about other aliens. I learned to view “different” as exciting, not threatening. I can share my alien-ness with others.

Yes, my parents are aliens. In the best sense.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

---

Did you enjoy my essay?  Check out my fellow challengers' essays below. Better yet, join us and write your own!
Challenger Susan
Challenger Elizabeth

On NaNoWriMo and Cutting the Fat

During a previous NaNoWriMo, I became incredibly ill during the second week.  It was never diagnosed, despite multiple trips to the doctor.  However, I suspect I had contracted mono, due to the fatigue that was ever-present for 2-3 months after.  I continued writing during the illness, attempting to power through the exhaustion and malaise, but most of what I wrote ended up being unusable.  I realized this when I sat down to edit over the summer.

I had written many extended scenes full of fun details and quirky dialogue, but all those words, line after line, served only to introduce one idea or a brief event.  Better to cut to the chase, fit that single idea or event into the story another way.

Farewell, 10,000 words or more...

Those chapters are now trimmed from the novel, to be included on my website as bonus content. I hope my readers will enjoy these "deleted scenes" that take them beyond the novel, further into the lives of Dek Sundowner, Mer Pampero, and Shanna Tramontane, even if the storytelling did not push the plot forward enough to remain in the final draft.

What do you do with the scenes you excise from your work? Re-purpose them elsewhere? Say goodbye and banish them to the trash forever? Tell me what you like to do.

Remember, tough but tender is an editor's love,
Ren D.

When Your Characters Have Become Real

To take a page from Margery Williams' The Velveteen Rabbit, specifically, a small part of the beautiful and oft-quoted passage about becoming Real:

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled. 

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.” 

The characters of The Fracture of a Dream have been real to me for quite some time now.  Sometimes I'll see a photograph of a woman and think, "Ah, that's Shanna!" or hear a song that resonates perfectly with their storylines.

In fact, this painting by Myles Sullivan immediately drew my attention a few months ago:

Myles Sullivan, Rendezvous

"That's Dek! And Shanna...slightly leggier and more bombshell than I'd envisioned her, but definitely still Shanna. They look like they're having one of their intense (and silly) debates at their favorite bistro."

It was a reminder that I needed to continue their story.

Returning to them, telling more of their story, is like catching sight of a beloved friend you haven't seen for quite some time.  I feel a warmth and happiness to be reunited with my characters and wonder how their unwritten lives have passed since I last worked with them.

The only awkward part is that Dek and Shanna seem so real to me that, in the rewriting stage, adding new parts to their story felt like telling a lie. The way I told the story the first time -- to me, that was how all the events had come to pass.  It couldn't be altered.

I have to remind myself that reality is not black-and-white, as we like to think. We each perceive and interpret events, behaviors, and words in different ways.  And from Elizabeth Loftus' extensive work on the fallibility of memory, we also know that we mis-remember our own lives constantly.  Aside from these mundane "alternate" realities that occur normally, there are also the moments of our lives which simply aren't chronicled -- because that would be dull -- and introducing new scenes might just mean I'm telling the reader something that hadn't seemed important before.

Taking heart from the Skin Horse's words to the Rabbit, however, I like the idea that my characters continue to live on, even when I'm away from them, the threads of their lives rolling, looping, and knotting in new ways that I haven't yet imagined. I guess that's why there are sequels.

And I'm pretty sure Shanna's got a few secrets that are going to come out.  They usually do...eventually.

Stay curious,
Ren D.

My NaNoWriMo 2013 Metrics

Testing these widgets out.  Who doesn't love widgets?

Hope I'll be a "winner" this year. ;)


My month shown via widget.  You can see if I've been good or not.


This year, I'm also partnered up with writing buddy A Silent Spectre, so you can see how we're doing here.

Talking to Strangers

Meeting a stranger creates, in me, a strange fiction.

People are remarkably accurate at guessing the characteristics of a stranger from the briefest moments of exposure (known as "thin slices" in this area of person-perception research).  These "thin slices" of behavior can be as short as five seconds, thirty seconds, or a few minutes.  We can read the warmth of a person, neuroticism, even sexual orientation, almost automatically.

Yet, people have a way of surprising us. That best friend you've had for 20 years?  The one right beside you, patching up scrapes after taking a spill on the street, the one who held your hand when the police came with bad news?  You don't know that friend as well as you think.

Because situations, especially new and frightening situations, can push a person to react very differently.  But isn't that still the friend you know?

When I meet a stranger, I don't always know what part of me will show itself. Will I be brusque and guarded like Mer Pampero?  Free-spirited but increasingly somber like Shanna Tramontane?  Or well-intentioned but ineffective like Dek Sundowner?  Well, it depends...on so many factors.

And there are many situations in our lives in which we meet someone for just three minutes or fewer.  We never know which impression of ourselves we'll leave behind -- is it the Good Me, or the Bad Me? -- or how others will try to make sense of the way we act.

So yes, that first meeting with a new person brings an unusual tension to the relationship.  When I take you in at first glance, I'll adapt myself a bit to meet you in the middle.  Or maybe I won't, if I'm Mer Pampero that day.

Is my character Dek who he is because of the people he's known?  Do these people bring out something that's already in him?  Or does he mirror, in his behavior or his words, what he thinks they want to see in him?

The better question is, can he do any of that in his current condition?

So, readers...when do I meet you?  And, which version of me do you expect to meet?

Ren D.

The Trouble With Dreams

My novel-in-progress, The Fracture of a Dream, deals heavily with dreams (as you might guess from the title).  Dreams of the subconscious variety, dreams of sleepers, dreams of one's future goals -- all are fair game in my exploration of life and death.

Overall, we consider dreams to be important, necessary.  Mostly a positive concept to strive for.  That's why there are so many motivational graphics about "chasing your dreams" and "it's better to regret something you did than regret never doing it."  (I'm paraphrasing.)

But you know, dreams aren't always a good thing.

So, to stretch your brains today, I'd like you to complete the following sentence and then work it into a dialogue or passage of your own:

The trouble with dreams is _________.

A few ideas of my own:

• The trouble with dreams is you wake up at some point.
• The trouble with dreams is that nightmares are dreams, too.
• The trouble with dreams is not everyone's can come true.
• The trouble with dreams is they don't pay your bills.
• The trouble with dreams is sometimes you can't sleep.
• The trouble with dreams is they don't come true when you're flat on your back, paralyzed with sleep.

What did you come up with?

Rendy

Why "Never Give Up" Is Terrible Advice

​Yes, I'm at it again!

I'm still working on The Fracture of a Dream, so I thought I'd try Camp NaNoWriMo once more as an extra incentive to write every day.​  April's Camp NaNoWriMo was a massive failure for me, and I like to try again and again until I succeed.

Hmm...that must be why I spent my lunch hour playing backgammon until I won.​

(Note: Psychologically, perseverance is not always a good thing.  It's important to know when to cut your losses and give up.  If you're unrealistic in your level of control, i.e., you think you have control over things you do not​ control, you're more likely to persist even when others would have stopped trying.)

​We see this often in our everyday lives, with bad situations that we simply can't change, with jobs that must be done, with people who come into a relationship with their own motives, quirks, and emotional baggage.  Sometimes, we have to make the best of it.  Sometimes, we need to know enough to just leave.

​Keep this little tidbit about perseverance in mind as you read about Dek Sundowner and his adventures.  When should he give up?  When should he keep trying?

And how might this change how his story ends?​

Stay focused (unless you think it's time to give up?),​

Ren D.​

​

When We Click

First of all, I have to confess that Camp NaNoWriMo was a spectacular failure this time around.  I somehow thought I could revise my manuscript, take online courses, see friends and family, and job-hunt in earnest while traveling for almost five weeks.

I make myself laugh.  None of that happened in April.  I barely slept.  As usual, I made myself ill.

But you know what did happen?  I found the time to read a few books on my to-read list.

Click, by Ori and Rom Brafman, was among one of my stacks, and much like their book Sway, the narrative was both interesting and highly readable.  Great storytelling job.  Click deals with that special sort of "magic" we encounter -- whether it's an unexpected love connection, a number of complicated factors coming together just so perfectly all at random, or even just the feeling of being "in the zone" while working on a project.

The idea is fascinating, of course.  You probably aren't aware of this, but there's something you use every day that's the product of one of the "clicks" discussed in the book.  Can you guess what it is?

That mystery aside, Click got me thinking about those special people we have in our lives -- the ones we take a shine to right away, the ones we know will be our best friends as soon as we meet.  These are the friends we can fill hours with, chatting away, the ones we trust with our spare keys and secrets, the ones with whom we can pick up where we left off after years of separation, no discomfort or reacclimatization needed.  (Don't worry; I'm going somewhere with this.)

We are our best selves, our most unguarded, authentic selves when we are with these people.  And, in our writing?  When our characters are with someone with whom they click...that's when our readers (and we, as writers) get a dose of who they are, really.  Their unfiltered personalities, their motivations, their anxieties, their dreams -- all these vibrancies can come through, if you get these characters together with the right person.

Many people act differently or speak differently, according to the situation they're in or the people they are with.  (These social chameleons are generally known as high self-monitors, in case you're interested.  They're always managing the impressions they leave behind.)  This behavior is perfectly natural.  It can make for a confusing character, however, when you're developing your protagonist.  How can your readers get a good sense of who the character is, without needing you to tell them directly?

Get your character into a good click situation.  Then, just let go.  Whoever your protag is, just let that personality flow out onto the paper.

Ren D.

The Ties That Bind Us

As a writer with a psychological bent, I often examine my own interactions with the people around me, probing the boundaries, fingering the threads and knots.  I've done this since I was prepubescent, working out who got along well with whom, how to diffuse tense situations, how to tailor my approach to a person when I wanted to ask a favor.  I'd like to say the ability comes naturally, but it doesn't.

I'm still the master of social gaffes.  I sometimes work against myself.

But there's a beauty in the way people are connected -- some bonds stronger, taut, steady...others thin, wispy, barely sustained.  Complicated.  There's the mother who would sacrifice anything for her child, yet she hardens her heart with jealousy, eyeing her thriving child, born into privileges she herself was not fortunate enough to have.  There's the broken criminal, brusquely keeping the other inmates in line with threats and muscle, but whose thoughts turn to the younger brother he left on the outside, barely a teen and now fending for himself and their younger siblings.

A story can take place anywhere, any time, in any setting.  But it's the relationships between the characters that draw me in.  So I don't rule out any particular genre.  I'll read mysteries, sci-fi, fantasy...anything, if the author catches me with some good relationship tension.  So how are your characters connected?  Are the ties overt, simple?  Or hidden, snarled?

Sure, I love a good relationship.  Does that mean I write romance?  No.  In fact, I find relationships that are barbed with awkwardness, conflicted feelings, and hardships to be the most interesting.

I also love to get deep down into a character's biggest soft spot.  His or her true devotion, whatever he or she most wants to protect.  Whom does Dek Sundowner most want to protect?  The answer may not be so obvious...

Keep loving,
Ren D.

What I Did Last Summer...I Mean, This Coming April

Anyone else taking part in Camp NaNoWriMo next month? I'm excited to be participating (though I'm extremely stressed out -- I'll be traveling, job-hunting, and taking courses at the same time). Nevertheless, after a successful (and productive) trial with NaNoWriMo last November, I feel pretty confident about tackling a reduced word count. If I happen to write more -- all the better!

I'd love to hear from my fellow Wrimos. What are you working on, what are you hoping to accomplish in April?

Stay writery,

Ren D.

Just Once, Metamorphosis

I think every creative person should be allowed to undergo a metamorphosis at least once without seeming inconsistent and a tad flaky (unless you're The Artist Not Really Known As Madge...then I suppose you've got free license to make yourself over anytime, as many times as you want).

As springtime approaches (in the Northern Hemisphere), it's the perfect time to think about the theme of change and renewal. Whether it's change in the form of editing and rewriting, or growth and dynamism in your characters, or even your own development and improvement as a writer, change is normal, natural, and virtually always going to happen. (In your stories, it better happen! Why else are you telling the story? To show how nothing changes?)

Often a story will approach a character in a way that shows him or her growing and changing, perhaps breaking free of convention or the bonds of static friends who hold the character back. It can be just as interesting, I find, for the character to be stuck, repeating the same mistakes, as this can make a point to the reader as well. (I think we all know people who are like that, don't we? Stuck, trapped...) In The Fracture of a Dream, Dek seems to be a spectator as life -- as even nature itself -- lives and thrives around him, while he finds himself stagnant. The people around him change, but he can't seem to move on himself or alter the path his life is taking. He may think he has some semblance of agency, to drive his actions, but it doesn't get him far.

Does it make a difference in where Dek ends up?

You'll have to read to find out.

Don't "stay anything," readers! Be bold and change. :)

Ren D.

Crayons and a Cardboard Heart

Sometimes we pour our hearts into finding (or making) the perfect gift for someone we love. That gift may represent unspoken hopes, such as the wish to share a future together, or the desire to see a loved one find success. The gift may be a reminder, letting the recipient know the giver is present, perhaps not physically but in mind. The gift may carry a message -- "Don't forget me" or "I'm thinking of you."

Overall, gifts are a lovely notion. We enjoy giving them; we enjoy receiving them.

Unfortunately, at times gifts may be given out of obligation, guilt (apology roses don't smell as sweet, eh?), or purely as a social leverage technique, an attempt to curry favor or achieve some other end.

The latter reason is overt, and therefore, not quite as interesting to me. Gifts of obligation and guilt are fascinating, however. Is it not enough to convey "I'm sorry" or make amends via words and more meaningful actions (such as doing something that was neglected or trying not to repeat an infraction)? Do gifts smooth the road, make the recipient forget the giver's wrongdoing? Does the giver want to weigh down the recipient with a reminder of what went wrong?

Sure makes it hard to forgive and forget.

Why not eschew the obvious, why not give simple gifts that carry the same message? Being around for a person in need. Taking the time to listen to a problem or to support someone who doesn't receive a lot of caring. Remembering things that are important to your loved ones. These small actions may bring big rewards. Letting a friend or lover know that they are important, that they are special to you, these are gifts that are far-reaching.

They will be remembered, and you will be remembered, because the effort and time required for such gifts of oneself come from a place that does not take credit cards. There's no returning them, and they are one-of-a-kind, intended for just that recipient and something that can only be given by you.

What do you think? If you've been wronged, would you rather someone woo themselves back in your favor by spoiling you with a gift or two, or would you rather see redress of a more emotional or proactive nature?

And what if you're the wrongdoer?  What do you do to return to someone's good graces?

Ren D.

Dreams & Musings on Dreams

It seems like everyone I know is writing a novel or hoping to write one someday.

What is it about writing a novel that inspires so many people to set it as a goal? How many of the people who dream of publishing a novel actually succeed?

I don't know many people who've set out to make their own films or produce their own CDs.  Similarly, I don't know many people who have the goal of creating their own gallery showcase of art or putting up a public installation.

Perhaps it's that words are readily available to (almost) everyone.  We all have stories; we all have experiences that others do not share.  Photography is a similar undertaking.  Nowadays I see more and more people with no formal photography training create photography careers for themselves with the raw materials (their natural surroundings) already available to them.  With a good eye for aesthetics and composition, many laypeople can pick up the techniques as they go.

I love (and appreciate) the ability to wake up someone's imagination and take him to unknown territories, but this is one of those days when I wish I were skilled in something a little more rare and visual (e.g., filmmaking, art) or lucrative (e.g., mathematics, business).

Nevertheless, I am still a firm believer in hard work being the foundation to making a dream come true.  If you want something deeply enough, you may achieve it with determination and perseverance.

Fill 2013 with your dreams!

Ren D.

Time Markers

I wish this were a post about a fantastic set of felt-tip markers that, when used, could manipulate the fabric of space and time.  Sounds like a great children's independent reader series, actually.  However, when devotees of art say that great art is transporting, I don't think that's what they mean.

I'm writing, of course, about the little signals that show us the passage of time in a film, TV show, or piece of writing.  People talking about back-to-school shopping indicate that summer is ending (no!) and that autumn is on its way.  Jack o' lanterns, cornucopias, lawn Santas, Christmas trees, and pink doily cupids give away similar clues about the time of year in which a story takes place.

When you write, and your story takes place over the course of several months (or years), how do you convey that information?  Do you use the holidays?  Do you simply state the day of week or time of year?  Do you describe your characters' (hopefully weather-appropriate) clothing or mention the meal they are eating?  If the time of day or year isn't important, do you forgo time markers completely?  Human life is so inextricably linked to the passage of time that we often use time markers without even noticing or thinking about it.

Time is important to the characters of The Fracture of a Dream.  It takes place mostly across a timespan of one year, so descriptions of the seasons were my method of marking the time.  Dek is a character with a strong affinity for nature, so this also followed quite logically.  I also wanted to avoid the assumption that my characters might celebrate any religiously linked holiday.  Dek and his friends are solidly American, but they may not share all aspects of the culture that the majority of Americans consider to be a given.  Trust me.  With what Dek's going through in his life, remembering holidays is not high on his list of priorities.

And on that note, I wish you a happy new year, fellow readers and writers.  May your 2013 be everything you dream it will be.

Ren D.

My NaNoWriMo Metrics

Testing these widgets out.  Hopefully they'll be a good motivator for me to press on with my daily writing!

Hope I'll be a "winner" this year. ;)


My month shown via widget.  You can see if I've been good or not.

Writer Up!

Out of curiosity, is anyone else doing NaNoWriMo this November?

I set out to do it last year (the first year in which I had no work or school obligations eating up my time), but I planned poorly and wasn't able to get anything meaningful written at all.  I'm quite disappointed with that subpar level of performance, so I truly want to "writer up" this year and get some solid pieces written, polished, and finished.

My current project, The Fracture of a Dream, is already nearing initial completion (if I write diligently this month), so I hope to finish in time to set it aside and then start a new project I have in mind during November.  I also have three short stories that need to be completed.  (Yes, my attention span is short and often scattered all over the place.  The words, you know.  They just come, and sometimes they come from different stories...)

My admiration goes to the truly devoted individuals who write outside of their full-time careers, especially if they are also parents of younger children.  You are amazing, and I could never manage anything like it.  I wouldn't have the energy.

Well, I better get back to writing myself.  Let me know how all of you are doing on your own projects!

Keep writing,
Ren D.

Conversational Glitter, Lack Of

I'd never tell writers or other artists to associate with more creative types in order to discover ideas, though it's true that some of my best ideas and best conversations came from spending time with others who were high in creativity.  With these friends, ideas flew, possibilities hung amply ready for plucking, and our minds worked together in overdrive.  They almost felt fertile.

I had a good friend in college who was my conversational glitter.  He was both a writer and an artist, and we had fabulous discussions about utterly ridiculous, offbeat situations.  Conversations with him could go anywhere.  Picnics could happen at midnight.  Chocolate syrup could be blood, in the right lighting.

As often happens, friends grow apart.  A few years later, I entered a doctoral program, and we slowly lost touch.  I was surrounded by a very different type of person in my graduate program -- it wasn't that everyone was serious and dull (they really weren't!) -- it was just that there was no room for the absurd.  Ideas were concrete; they needed to be quantifiable.  Anything out of the realm of the ordinary was regarded as strange and frightening.

I thrived in the intellectual environment, but my chances to be delighted by the whimsical and thought-provoking simply shriveled up.  I no longer had my conversational glitter.  It's a loss I still feel; no one has come close to matching the likes of my imaginative (not imaginary!) and very intelligent friend.

Though some of the flights of fancy described in The Fracture of a Dream were definitely inspired by silly conversations with friends and my own late-night solitary musings, I can't help but feel like I would be more fruitful, more interesting, if I were surrounded by other creative types who have a sense of humor for reinventing the mundane.

Not every writer (or artist) needs a friend to help recharge one's creativity, but I've realized that, for me, it's practically required.

Ren D.

On the Precipice

There is often a serious lack of resolution, of closure, in dramatic works.  Can you imagine if someone asked you an important question, and you simply stared back at them and then turned around and walked away?  (Happens on TV and in the movies all the time!)  Or if you were only aware of the beginnings or endings of some of your conversations?  (Books leave out parts of conversations all the time...it'd be boring otherwise!)  What if something quite important was about to happen, but (as always!) a phone call or unexpected visitor derailed the action?  (I have to admit this has happened to me far more often in real life than I would have predicted.)

Could we live with so much uncertainty in real life?

I think not.  When we ask questions, we want answers.  We don't want to be left hanging for the information to be revealed at the best dramatic moment, whether it be several days later or several decades later.  We'd run after the person leaving.  We'd insist until we got an answer.

When we miss part of a conversation, we want to know what was said while we were gone.  When we are interrupted, we try (often unsuccessfully) to recapture the moment that was lost.

Yet, there is something to be said for the excitement of uncertainty.  Perhaps, then, to avoid boring ourselves and others, we should consider removing ourselves from conversations and situations before they've fully played out to their logical end.  Always leave them wanting more, right?

I'm going on my dream vacation.  Bye! :)

Ren D.

Musings Before Bedtime

If they don't pay me in royalties, my friends, I think I might be willing to accept payment in the form of homemade butter or cheese.  A well-fed writer is less likely to spend pages describing food, I think.

Perhaps aside from the "no grocery shopping while hungry" rule, there needs to be a "no writing while hungry" rule!  Abraham Maslow did place the need for food at the bottom of his hierarchy for needs (where the most basic physiological needs were grouped).  How can you strive for higher purposes if you're sleepless, thirsty, hungry, and so on?

I write (and work) better when I'm a little hungry, though.  Maybe it was conditioning from all those years in graduate school.  I suppose you'll have to live with my fixation on describing food in my work.  :)

Ren "Hungry" D.