Funny Dogs

The pep-talk from NaNoWriMo this week

Okay. You’re at the point that marathon runners call “the wall.” It’s the one where you’ve run smack out of inspiration and your start-up excitement. It’s quit or finish and you’d really rather quit, but you have all these words, and friends, family, and those nasty people at school or the office are waiting to see if you’ll finish.

So let’s talk about the commonplace: something you may not have considered when you got all swept up in the Characters and the Splendor and the Idea.

Try adding something short.

Show your main character doing something. They’re walking down a woodsy trail—unless they’re in space, in which case, maybe they’re jogging around the station, or coming in from fixing something outside. They aren’t really thinking about much, or if the end of their travels are in view, they’re thinking about news from home, a good person or a bad one, or a sudden summons from the boss.

They trip.

Do it inside the airlock. Over and over they go, hearing yells through their communication system and the sound of the lock pressurizing. Then their foot gets caught in an open metal grip, twisting.

In the forest, they tumble down a hill, twisting an arm. Climbing out of a swimming pool, they slip on the rim; there’s a loud whack as they strike their knee on the pool’s edge. On the sidewalk, they catch a foot on a tree root and go down.

Try something surprising, painful, or frightening to jolt your character into behaving violently.

Are they exhausted beyond all reason, given everything you’ve put them through? Have they no resources of strength, health, common sense, or good humor left? This is what they called, during the American Civil War, “middle of the night courage.” If your character has it. Maybe they don’t. That could be what we need to know, that this person has to lick the remains of their courage off of the floor to be able to continue on. And trying something you hadn’t planned with this character to find this last, possibly stupid bit of self may be what you need to get moving.

What happens next? Does your character pitch a fit of rage? Do they throw things, or yell for help? Do they ask someone to take them to the doctor, not knowing that the other person isn’t to be trusted? Is their rescuer someone they didn’t know cared about them? What does your character do now? Maybe your character doesn't trust this person, but his or her companions do. What do they do?

Try something small.

Your character finds a box (think of those medical researchers who found a box tucked away in storage and opened it to find six little vials of smallpox), a book, a message, a painting. It fascinates them until they have tracked down its history and meaning. These things can lead to a talisman for good or ill, wealth, something that carries you into your planned climax, something that helps your character meet a person they need to know for that climax to happen, something perilous that brings them to the climactic action wounded and full of doubt.

With luck, you put this letter aside halfway through because you thought of something that you had to write, and you’re on your way again. If you read this far for my immortal prose, don’t be silly! You can read after you’ve finished NaNoWriMo! Now go git 'em!

Tammy

Thank you Tammy, I needed that.

A little book I'm writing with my oldest daughter

    My daughter loves to write stories and books.  This is one we do together.  She writes a chapter, I write a chapter.  It's pretty fun.  This is really raw (unedited), but it's the first chapter, which we wrote together.

Chapter 1

                Rachel lay awake, as she had for so many nights the last few weeks.  Tomorrow was the day she would start intermediate school.  She was both excited and scared.  Elementary school was easy.  The schooling was vigorous, but like all children from Qualia Duo, she was smart.  Math, Language, Science, Herbology, History, Social studies, and Economics came easy to her.  Beastology was her favorite subject, though.  She was, after all, a daughter of two angelic beast parents.  They kept her busy every hour after school with tutors from every beast guild in Qualia Duo.  That was on top of her angelic beast training.

She looked down at the sleeping ball of fur curled up at the foot of her bed; her spirit beast.  Rachel had just turned eleven, but her beast still hadn't evolved.  That meant she was going to the Undecided’s Intermediate School.  Some of the kids in her elementary school had developed last year or over the summer, so they got to go to schools suited to their spirit beasts.  Her best friend, Maddie, had developed over the summer.  Her parents were so proud when her little ball of fur had grown wings and the head of a horse.  They were both in the Angelic Guild with Rachel’s mom and dad, so a daughter developing pegasus spirit beast was a source of great pride for Maddie’s parents.  Maddie should have gone to Undecided’s Intermediate School with Rachel because her beast still didn’t have a body, but her parents had pulled some strings to get her into the Angelic Guild’s Intermediate School.

Rachel felt a twinge of jealousy for her friend’s beasts.  Maddie would get to live with her mom and dad forever because she had an angelic beast like them.  Rachel quickly repented of her jealousy.  She knew that bad thoughts and feelings could change her beast into a monster.  She looked down nervously at the little ball of fur again.  Sometimes it scared her.  The spirit beast would reveal her true character when it evolved, and Rachel worried that her true character might not live up to the ideals of the Angelic Guild. 

Rachel had heard all the lessons the Angelic Guild members had to teach her; “Be honest”, “Be brave”, “Be virtuous”, “Be loving”, “Be forgiving”, “Be kind”, and hundreds of other “Be’s” that it took to have an angelic spirit beast.  Her parents had actual angel beasts.  Her father had a beautiful female angel, clothed in a white robe with long blonde hair, a ten foot wingspan, and a flaming sword.  Her mother had a muscular male angel, with flowing blonde hair, a fifteen foot wingspan, and shimmering armor.  He wielded a trident, and carried a silver shield.  Both angel beasts glowed an otherworldly gold which made it almost uncomfortable to look directly at them.  They were doubly matched; as they fell in love their spirit beasts also fell in love.  Their dual marriage made them head of the Angelic Guild because they were easily one of the most powerful couples in the guild. 

Having parents with angel beasts didn’t guarantee that Rachel would have an angelic spirit beast.  In fact, her older brother had developed a demon spirit beast!  He grew weary of the constant lectures about living a good life, and he began to rebel when he was just a year younger than Rachel was now.  He got worse over time and when horns appeared on his spirit beast’s ball of fur, Rachel’s parents banished him from the house.  Rachel never saw him again.  She could only assume his beast developed into a full demon spirit beast, but she had no way of knowing. 

Rachel’s older sister, Elle, on the other hand, was a little miss perfect.  It was little surprise when her ball of fur began to grow angelic wings and glow a beautiful golden hue.  Now, her beast was fully developed into a beautiful female angel.  It would be a few more years before the beast developed armor or weapons, but Elle would be going into high school this year, and no doubt, she would be the talk of the school with her gorgeous angel spirit beast.  Elle treated her beast as one of her best girl friends.  They would giggle over the stupidest things, and spend hours alone in their room gossiping telepathically with each other.

For the second time that morning Rachel had to check her feelings, as jealousy threatened to take hold again.  She looked at the little ball of fur at her feet again, hoping that it hadn’t felt her feelings, though she knew it had.  The butterflies in her stomach started twittering again.  What would her spirit beast reveal about her?

The room was getting lighter now.  Morning was coming, and Rachel hadn’t slept all night.  Her stomach tightened with anxiety.  Her spirit beast rolled around uncomfortably.  He didn’t like the feelings she was having, but she couldn’t help it.  She was scared of going to a school where she didn’t know anybody.  She was scared of who would be at the school.  The Undecided’s Intermediate School would have little fur balls like her spirit beast, but it would also have animals which had not yet fully developed and were still considered undecided, even if everyone had a pretty good idea as to what they were going to be.  There would probably kids who would develop demon spirit beasts there.  That thought unnerved Rachel the most.  Often times, demon spirit beasts killed as their first act of evolution.  The thought of murder made Rachel sick.  Of all of the Angelic Guild’s teaching, the value of life was the one which struck her the hardest.  She knew that she never wanted to kill.  Everyone in Qualia Duo killed, eventually.  Even the angelic spirit beasts, but at least the Angelic Guild taught to value life above all other things.  They only killed in defense or defending the defenseless.  She prayed that the day would never come where she would have to defend herself, or somebody else. 

Rachel smiled for the first time in weeks.  Maybe her value of life would be enough to make her spirit beast evolve into an angelic creature.  She didn’t want to leave her family.  Not all families jumped to conclusions like her parents.  Her brother’s beast horns could have been the horns of a goat, or some other animal, but her parents were not as accepting as the schools in Qualia Duo.  Rachel wasn’t even sure if her parents would keep a child with a normal beast that wasn’t a demon.  She was pretty sure that if her little ball of fur wasn’t an angel, or at least an angelic beast like a Pegasus or unicorn, than she would be kicked out just like her brother.  The thought put her stomach back into knots.

Not being able to stand the wait any longer, Rachel threw back the covers and hopped out of bed.  Her spirit beast rolled to the floor with a “thud” after her.  She turned around and shushed the ball of fur. It wasn’t quite time to get up yet, but laying in bed waiting was only making her more nervous.  He made a growling sound at her, but she ignored him and walked quietly to the door.  A hot shower would go a long way to calm her nerves. 

When she opened the door to her room she was surprised to see her little brother bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet.  His little spirit beast was just as energetic, rolling around all around his bouncing feet.  When she looked back at her brother’s face, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“What are you doing up so early Sam,” she asked.

He smiled even bigger, and then looked at the bathroom door.

Rachel looked at the door and then back at Sam who had already turned to run to the bathroom.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she yelled as she chased him down the hall, but she wasn’t fast enough and he had the door locked before she could catch him.

“Sam, open the door!  I need to shower!”

“So do I,” he yelled back, through the door.

“I go to school earlier than you,” Rachel complained, though she knew it was too late.  “Come on, Sam.  It’s my first day.  I need to be ready on time.”

“It’s my first day, too,” Sam yelled as the shower started.

“Ugggh,” Rachel exclaimed as she hit the door and turned to storm off.

“Be patient,” her mother called from the kitchen, reciting one of the many “Be” dictates of the Angelic Guild.

Rachel rolled her eyes, but quickly repented when she looked down at her little ball of fur.  She took a calming breath to control her anger, and then walked down the hall to the kitchen.  Rachel’s mother was a beautiful woman, slender with dark hair and blue eyes, and she always looked done up.  Even first thing in the morning.  Her angel was busy cooking breakfast.  The kitchen was designed for him because he loved to cook.  His massive wings needed room to move around, so the stove and countertop island were several feet apart.  The human-like beast was busy cooking some omelets for breakfast.

“Mom, it’s not fair, I have to go to school an hour before him…”

“And you’re up an hour early, so you’ll have plenty of time,” her mother interrupted, before she could finish her argument.

“He’s only starting 4^th grade.  Nobody is going to care what he looks like,” Rachel complained.  She knew it was a mistake before she even said it, but the sleepless night had left her feeling a bit moody.  Her mother’s angel started a bit because Rachel had almost raised her voice.  He looked at her tentatively out of the corner of his eyes.

Her mother locked eyes with her, as if trying to judge if she were starting to rebel like her brother had.  Without meaning to, Rachel looked away.  She could never look into the judgmental eyes of her mother or father.  They were almost perfect in the dictates of the Angelic Guild.  Who was Rachel to argue with them?

“Be patient,” Her mother repeated.  She took Rachel’s chin in her hand and forced her to look her in the eyes.  “Be kind.  Be loving. Be understanding.  Be giving.  Be sympathetic,” she said, squeezing playfully with the last words of advice.  Her mother then took her in her arms in a warm hug.  “It’s a little nerve-racking going to a new school, huh?”

Rachel nodded the best she could in the bear hug.

“Well, I’ve been there.  I know it’s scary, but everything will be alright,” she said.  Rachel knew that she hadn’t exactly ‘been there’ because her mother had developed at a young age, and she got to go to an Angelic Intermediate School, but she didn’t want to argue the point.  “Intermediate school is a fun time.  You get to make some strides in the direction of your choice for the first time in all your school life.  Have fun with it dear.  Don’t sweat the small stuff, and be brave.”

Her mother released her enough to look into her eyes.  Rachel just smiled and nodded.

“What’s this about being scared,” came a booming voice from behind.  It was her dad.

Rachel turned to face him only to be thrown up in the air by his angel spirit beast.  The playful female angel was always happy to play with the kids.  The beast caught her and hugged her too tight before placing her back on the ground.  The angelic face was always smiling.  At times, Rachel felt closer to her father’s angel spirit beast than to either of her parents, even though it could never talk directly to her.

“She said you look lovely, and the boys will be drooling over you all day,” Her father said.  It was a pity that spirit beasts could only communicate through their humans.  At times it was a little unnerving.  The angels looked so human-like that Rachel often forgot that they were spirit beasts.  “I don’t know if I like the idea of all that,” her father continued as he groaned and looked at her mother. 

Her mother just laughed and continued setting the table for breakfast. 

Her father groaned again and looked at Rachel.  “You’re not into boys and all that yet are you?”

“Dad,” Rachel exclaimed as she rolled her eyes.  “How did a conversation about Sam stealing my shower time turn into a talk about boys?”

Her father laughed, knowing he had won the game and gotten her flustered.  Rachel couldn’t be mad at him.  She knew he was only teasing her.  Just then, the water stopped and Rachel raced down the hall to get in the bathroom before her other little brother woke up.  He was only five, and loved to tease even more than Sam or her dad.  The door opened and Rachel pulled Sam out of the bathroom, jumped inside the door and locked it behind her. 

“Hey,” Sam protested. 

She heard her mother say something, but couldn’t quite make it out.  Then she looked down and saw Sam’s spirit beast wet and frightened at her feet rolling around in a panic to get to its human.  It wasn’t until then that she realized she had locked her own spirit beast out in the hall with her little brother.  Rachel opened the door to see her mother’s stern face looking down at her disapprovingly, holding her little ball of fur in her arms.

Sam’s beast rolled out of the door in a panic to get close to its human.  Rachel had no excuse for her actions and looked down at her feet, waiting for the lecture.

“Be patient,” her mother repeated, gently placing Rachel’s spirit beast in her hands.  “Be patient, Rachel.  Sometimes I wonder what will become of you, when you can’t learn the very basics of the Angelic Guild’s dictates.”

Rachel wondered too.

From Roses to Sparrows

     From Roses to Sparrows, by CiCelia Jackson.

     I have to start out by saying that I'm no expert in poetry.  In high school I was in honors, and then advanced placement English.  One year we had a semester long project to create an anthology of at least 100 poems.  The criteria for the project were that we had to have 2 analogy poems, 2 ABC poems, 10 blank verse poems (only 3 of which could be Shakespeare), 5 classicism poems, 5 dactyl poems, 5 haiku poems, 5 enjambment poems (yes, we were able to use Dr. Seuss), 10 couplet poems (once again, only 3 could be Shakespeare), 3 ballad poems, 3 lyric poems, and the other 50 were our choice, but we had to have at least 5 foreign poems from 5 different countries.  It was a big project, and 16 years later, it is one of the things I've kept from school.  So, I have had a little practice analyzing poetry.  

     Mrs. Jackson has some beautiful work in her anthology.  She has a small varied style, mostly free verse and blank verse with added elements of refrain poetry, ballad poetry, conceit poetry, and (loosely) some classicism poetry.  There could be several others, but I'm a little rusty, and these are the ones that stuck out most to me.  

     Her work, in her own words, was written to, "...give our blooming youth of little women something to ponder upon during their life's journeys, as well as to speak to mature women to embrace the treasured privilege we have in teaching them," so I am obviously not her target audience.  However, I am a loving husband, and a father of two young women, so I can appreciate her messages.

     The first poem which really hit me was entitled, "Black."  In a time when race has been a galvanizing force politically, socially, economically, and (in some cases) religiously, it was nice to hear a non-hateful voice about pride in one's race.  Mrs. Jackson addresses the issue of black women not feeling as desirable or pretty as the "fair' races, of the continued discrimination of blacks making "present day slaves," and of hateful reprove from those who cannot admit that they look down upon her race.  The counter message was not lashing out with hate of her own, but standing strong and proud of who she is.  The almighty does not discriminate so she will be viewed as an equal, not because she demands it, but because she will prove it with her works, deeds, and moral character.  It was a powerful message, and I read the poem over several times.

     later, in the same chapter, Mrs. Jackson writes a poem we can all relate to entitled, "I Am."  This was a simple poem which expressed a thought I've often had.  When you are looking out of your own eyes, your identity is not your gender, it's not about what others think of you, but what you think, feel, and relate with.  When you have those moments of self-contemplation where you can just be happy with what you see, and feel a simple emotion of being a human, not what others would judge you to be.

     I loved, "My Queen."  I was always a "mamma's boy" growing up.  I respect and love my mother for all that she sacrificed for her children.  She had 8!  Her life revolved around us as kids.  I can only imagine the things she gave up in order to rear so many.  I was taught to respect women because of my mother.  To this day, after being with my wife for 18 years, I still open doors for her, help her with any endeavor she sets her heart on, and I respect her in every way I know how.  "My Queen" is a simple ode to the bountifulness of motherhood.

     In the second chapter, is fairly depressing.  This would be the only criticism I would give Mrs. Jackson; if it's a book to inspire, write from your happiness instead of just your pain. The next poem with which I could truly relate wasn't until chapter 3, and it was entitled, "To Walk With Love."  It's short a short and simple poem which simply speaks of a relationship with love itself, which morphs into love of a person.  Mrs. Jackson may not have intended this meaning, but the poem made me feel this way.  Sometimes we fall in love because we are in love with being in love.

     Chapter 5 gets back on track with truly inspirational work.  The first five poems are wonderful.  "Beautiful Borders" is especially inspiring.  We could all use the advice to embrace who we are, and the way that Mrs. Jackson relates this is truly... well, poetic.  We all have a harsh inner voice.  It may not always be loud, but it's always there, criticizing all we do.  If we could love ourselves as much as those around us love us, we'd be a lot happier in life.  "From Roses to Sparrows," I believe is a direct message from Mrs. Jackson to her younger sister, as those are the nick-names they have given each other.  All I can say is thank you Mrs. Jackson for opening your heart to us.  She again lays her heart bear in Chapter 6 with, "Sparrow's Song."  The love she feels for her little sister is heir apparent. 

     Once again, I'm obviously not Mrs. Jackson's target audience.  Some of the poetry I could not even begin to relate to.  However, the messages of many of the poems were true to human nature, and human emotion.  Love, heartache, sadness, and disappointment are powerful emotions, and can inspire wonderful works of art.  I believe, though, that Mrs. Jackson's best work was when she was feeling empowered and happy.  

I give this work of art