Faith & Mulct

Listenin' to a little "Falling Down Blues" by Ramblin' Jack Elliott. Gorgeous song.

I learned a new word, today! The word is "mulct", which means a fine or a penalty. I have NEVER seen that word before (and that's saying something, because I'm in the business of words). But it's fun to say. Say it ten times. Mulct, mulct, mulct...

Anyway, I also did something kind of gutsy today: I rededicated myself to faith.

By that I don't mean that I "re-became" a Christian. I gave my life to Christ years ago and I've been working on that ever since. And I'm not perfect (no one ever is) but I endeavor to follow after Christ's example and His will for my life.

No, what I mean by rededication to faith is that I decided again to give myself over to that freefalling feeling of believing that not only does God love me, but He's sharing with me what life can be in little beautiful pieces.

I'm not really sure how to explain it, but it's everywhere in my life. New songs, old songs, when I write, when I sing, when I go walking, when I meet someone new, foods, family, work, school...all of these things give me delight on a daily basis when I give myself over to faith. The belief that God is good and He is making all things good through Himself.

Have you ever had one of those moments that makes you pause, and it's SO BEAUTIFUL or SO AWESOME or SO EPIC that you just want to wrap it up and stick it in your pocket? I truly believe that God is behind those moments. It's like the tiniest glimpse into what true perfection is. It explodes inside of you and makes you want to laugh and cry and spin around in circles all at the same time.

And life becomes a beautiful story, don't you see? I can't give myself over to cynicism. I have a very hard time with cynics. Because even though the world is dark and there is hate and heartache, I can't help but see the fingerprints of God everywhere. And it's astounding when you have the faith to look for them.

Call me a dreamer if you want, I don't care.

I'm going to turn on Ramblin' Jack's blues again and give myself over to joy in the form of well-crafted art.

God is in that, too.

-The GLS

Villains & Clouseau

I realized that certain of my tagging categories were a little thin, so I decided to do something gutsy in the area of films.

Tonight I watched a movie--without any reviews or suggestions--called "A Shot in the Dark", which is actually the second Peter Sellers Pink Panther movie. It was made in the mid-60's and it's Peter Sellers in all of his goofy, slapstick, ridiculous glory.

Be forewarned of a few things: First, the Pink Panther doesn't actually have anything to do with the movie. It's just that Sellers plays Inspector Clouseau, so they kept the franchise intact. In fact, you don't even have to see the first one in order to appreciate this one. They have nothing to do with each other except Clouseau.

Second, don't watch if you're offended by 60's sensibilities. And by this I mean moments of bad humor (bad as in not funny), sexist attitudes, affairs between pretty much everyone, and weird plots that seem pointless and stupid. Oh, and nudists. But it's 60's film censorship, so you don't see a thing.

However, a lot of Peter Sellers' slapstick really is very funny, and it's a goofy mystery movie so you can't be too tough on it. It's perfect for a popcorn movie, doesn't require any thought and all you need is to sit back and witness the ridiculous.

As far as the noveling goes, things are speeding along nicely. I'm trying something new with this novel, which is actually taking time to craft suitably creepy and realistic villains. I tend to make my villains SO grey that they really aren't villains at all, and therefore my novels end up with no conflict. Having empathetic villains is different than having ambiguous ones. I've realized that I'm allergic to conflict. So I'm trying to fix that.

I actually had to write a section of my novel in the daylight, today, because it was creepier than I normally write and I kept freaking myself out last night when I tried to write it. Pathetic? Yeah, probably. Does it mean I'm doing better with villains? I hope so!

Current Word Count: 9,730

-The GLS

Singsong & Architecture

I am currently looking through one of three ENORMOUS books I got from the library about fancy shmancy architecture. It's for my novel, you see, the beginning of which is set in a very large house. I'm staring at pictures of early American mansions, the mind is running wild, and this brings me to a very interesting point (well...interesting to me, anyway).

In my humble opinion, anyone who wants to write fantasy (specifically...but I'm sure other genres as well) needs to do ONE THING very well. Not record their dreams, not plan out their plots, not even read voraciously.

They must RESEARCH.

Hold on, GLS! Research in a fantasy novel? Isn't the point of a fantasy novel that you don't NEED to research because you're making it all up?

I ask you...how could I POSSIBLY create a good description of the palatial mansion I'm trying to write about if I don't know anything about houses in the era I'm thinking of? Not only that, but what happens if I've done no planning and I miss out on all of the fantastic possibilities that research affords me: detailed photos of what houses looked like in the old days, color schemes, floorplans, rooms I didn't know existed, patterns...etc.

Besides the practical, it's also very inspiring to fill your head with these pictures and the colors. The colors!

Truly, one of the best parts about writing is the problem-solving. It's the figuring out connections and making them work for you. And research plays a huge part in that.

In other news, I have done another gutsy thing! After a few weeks of hemming and hawing over it, I signed up for a one-time Irish Folksinging class coming up in mid March at a local folk music store. Sure, it's going to be a little awkward...but I really am interested in Irish folksinging, and so I thought this would be a good introduction to see if I like it!

I love Fridays. I love that it was a good, wholesome, solid Friday. But now, it is time to bring that Friday to a close.

-The GLS

More Literariness & Telepathy

Yeah, it's another "writings" post. Sorry, I'm a little attached to my new novel at the moment. It's still the honeymoon stage.

Inspiration is a funny thing. I was sitting here watching "Frasier" episodes (which are oddly inspiring...probably the brilliance and tightness of the writing makes a difference), and suddenly I had a random flash of an idea for my novel involving telepathy.

Understand, I don't like the concept of adding telepathy to every fantasy novel that rears its head. I think telepathy is often an easy way out, and sometimes it adds a dimension that doesn't need to be there. Typically I just ignore the whole idea, and my fantasy novels often don't include "magic" for the same reason. Magic gets boring to write about, and it's not necessary to have magic in order for something to be fantasy. By definition, fantasy is whatever the heck you want it to be. Swords and sorcery be darned.

However, in the spirit of writing a whimsical subgenre western I started entertaining the thought of this telepathy thing, and pretty soon I had concocted a new character, a hilarious spin on the old "telepathy" theme, and a way to write about something I don't usually write about and enjoy it. It ALSO solved a random problem I was having with moving some characters forward further down the line of my plot.

I guess my point in all of this is that random flashes are a fact of life. They don't happen extraordinarily often, but when they do they're gold. They should not be easily tossed aside, both in writing and in anything else. Sometimes we get random bolts of inspiration and instead of distrusting them or throwing them away because they involve ideas we're not comfortable with, maybe we should embrace them...at least long enough to see if they have any merit at all. If they truly don't work, write 'em down and put 'em on the back burner. But you never know when it might mean more than you thought possible.

Sometimes the gutsy thing is to entertain the dumb/annoying/weird/uncomfortable ideas for a change.

New Novel Word Count: 4,512

-The GLS

Inspired & Ill-Advised, Perhaps

My big news today is that I have made two literary breakthroughs, if you could call them that.

First, I wrote my first villanelle! It's a type of poetry. And it's kind of personal, so I'm not going to share it. But it's fun to know that I can write one if I want to!

Two, is that I've started a new novel. Yikes. It's kind of a subgenre western, oddly. A genre I don't write in often, but I'm REALLY enjoyin' the droppin' of the g's in order to imitate a drawl. It's fun to do such things. And it's fun to smush genres together and hope they get along. And if they don't, the more's the better, because conflict is fun.

The catch is that I was in the middle of my FebNoWriMo novel, wasn't I? Yes I was. But the problem with that novel is that I've been overthinking it for four years. I know the characters and the settings too well, and they didn't want to go anywhere because they were frozen in my brain in a certain formation already.

But this new novel...while not perfect, as I still have no idea where I'm going with it...is one-up on the other one because it features characters I'm still getting to know and setttings that are "foreign", for lack of a better word. I don't know. I'm of the mind that as long as I'm writing it's all good. Something that prompts me to open Word every evening is aces in my book.

However, creativity is exhausting. I think it's time for bed...

-The GLS

Shuffle & Comments

I turned on my iPod to "shuffle songs" for the first time in forever, today. This evening I was treated with a long-lost friend, "Take It Back" by the Barenaked Ladies. And as much as I love the song, I hadn't really listened to the lyrics until tonight. This line popped out loud and clear in terms of my day, today:

"It's hard to keep your mouth shut. Harder still to make noise."

In fact, that line played right as I sat down to write this post. Kind of spooky.

It would be very easy to say I was gutsy because I didn't say anything, today. I kept my mouth shut when faced with great temptation to let someone have it. I should get applause for my restraint, right?

No. I shouldn't.

Let me explain.

Remember That One Kid in Poetry class? Well, this isn't about him. This is about another sort of That One Kiddiness, a distant relation to that concept known as "That One Older Guy In Class Who Won't Shut Up".

This is not to be confused with "That Continuing Education Person". Because I LOVE having older folks in my classes. I love hearing what they have to say, and I love picking their brains about stuff, and I love their down-to-earth-wisdom and their excitement and their just plain awesomeness, even when they're arguing with me.

But That One Older Guy In Class Who Won't Shut Up (hereafter known as TOOGICWWSU) is another matter entirely. He (and it usually is a he) is the sort of person who thinks he knows more than the professor, and wants to share this information liberally and with great fervor, often interrupting other students...or the professor...in his zeal. He is often condescending, often bigoted, and often wrong.

In my Mass Media class, I have TOOGICWWSU, and he has the three strikes: often condescending, often bigoted, and often very wrong.

I know what you're thinking. GLS, why didn't you realize this sooner? You've been in this class for awhile now, right?

Because he was a sneaky one. He kept his mouth shut until last week, except to utter a few brief (albeit insightful) comments. And then? The dam broke, and now he can't open his mouth without sounding ignorant or racist or both.

I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, at first, because he's an older fellow. And granted, none of his racism is said "in anger". But upon further examination I realized...he's in his late fifties. That's not THAT old. And he's of the generation that probably "knows better", or at least has had time to think about it. He ought to know that there are some words that it's just not right to say anymore, just some topics that it's okay not to bring up in class, and just some basic manners that are human to human, not race to race.

But while I'm sitting in class thinking all of these things, and in the car fuming about these things, and sitting here at my computer typing about these things, I come to a sadder realization.

Yes, props to me for not strangling him out of sheer embarassment and anger.

But...no points to me for not saying anything. Because isn't that the problem? When he talks, everyone (including the teacher) just winces and says...nothing. Not even a sneaky deflection. Not even a wry comeback, or a carefully-worded clue that he might not be right. That he might not have all the answers. That he might clean up his replies if he wants to engage in "continuing education" at a college in Seattle, where liberalism is quite rampant and you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a Democrat (not...that you'd want to...I'm just making a point).

The reason why people feel free to say what they say is because they assume they are agreed with. I think it's fair to say that others are intimidated by the common TOOGICWWSU because he is older and "wiser" and hard to argue with.

But at least I know where I sidestepped, even if today does feel like a gutsy fail. Maybe on Thursday (our next MM class) I can think of a way to gently let TOOGICWWSU know that I do not agree with his assessments by thinking through a logical contribution to the discussion. Could backfire on me, or I could chicken out. But being gutsy is about trying, isn't it?

We'll see.

-The GLS

Contests & Flurry

This blog post will be extremely brief, because I've just had the most remarkable story idea and I need to get cracking on it.

However! On the gutsy side of things, I've signed on to perform a piece of slam poetry out loud at a school poetry reading coming up. I'm a little nervous about it, but I knew that the fact I was nervous was the very reason to do it. The reading is going to be judged (though I don't think there are any real prizes or anything), as if it's a real slam poetry competition. Yikes.

Gutsiness is not for the faint of heart, it seems.

The reading is on March 1st. As the date draws closer, keep me in your thoughts. I don't usually read poetry out loud. Indeed, I don't usually write poetry in order for it to be read. But my teacher liked my poem, so at her behest (and mine, through this blog) I decided to go for it.

That's all, for now. I'm off to concoct the weirdest Western you ever heard of.

-The GLS