Thursday, October 3, 2013
Give them more than those Baby Blues
The series finale of Breaking Bad was greeted with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction from the viewing public. They were sad to see such a fine series come to an end, but satisfied with the way the writers closed all the loopholes before the final credits ran. Generally, reviews were positive.
I liked it for another reason.
I have not watched the show with any regularity. I checked out a few episodes during the first season and only tuned in for snippets throughout the past four years. I tuned in Sunday night in part because I wanted to be able to keep up with the conversation this week and because I was curious, but also because I was intrigued by a line that was continually replayed prior to the final act:
"Chemistry is all about transformations."
So is good fiction. It is not necessarily about what happens to a character, but making that character so believable, so real, so likeable or fascinating, that the reader cares what happens to him or her. It is something I struggle with continually. I have to remind myself: anyone can come up with a plot or anyone can tell a story. It takes talent to create someone.
Without watching the show between the first season and the final episode, I didn't know much about Walter White other than he was a smart guy with what began as honorable intentions--and that he had shaved his head somewhere along the way. During the final scene, however, when he was walking around the lab and the song kicked in—Baby Blue, by Badfinger—it seemed such a natural touch that I found myself nodding along. It was seamless (and it reminded me of how much I like that song.)
Physical descriptions of characters are important, but not essential. Most readers will supply their own as they read—all you have to do is provide enough hints to prod them along. Items like a bald head, piercing eyes, a bristling goatee will help readers picture characters, but details like a theme song will help them be remembered.
It also helps readers identify with characters. Music is everywhere. Everyone has their own soundtrack, whether they'd admit it or not. Your characters should, too—even if you never have cause to mention it.
I've always thought the theme song for one of my characters, Keegan, is Peter Gabriel's Solsbury Hill. Keegan will never know that—he's a fantasy character and music in his time/world would be along a more medieval vein. It still plays in my head (and occasionally on my MP3 player) while I'm writing him. Another character is fond of cheesy 70s music and tends to get very nostalgic when listening to the Little River Band's 'Cool Change.'
Even if your characters don't know what's on their play list, you should. It'll help you bring them to life—more than a description of their 'baby blues' will.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Lessons from the unnamed Land
So I recently finished up my longest introductory story ever. It was long not in the amount of words it took to tell, but rather the time it took to tell it (and that is entirely my fault). If it takes more than a year to tell a story, chances are you're not all that interested in telling the story.
I didn't even promote it when I published it because it was so bad but, if you're interested, you can find it here. Remember, though, that this is a practice blog, a first draft, a virtual writing workout where I tinker with things like dialogue, scene, characterization and--in this story in particular--fight scenes. I just write the entries during my lunch period, run them through a spell checker and post them so there are bound to be some typos, bad wording and the like. Not to mention too many commas. You'd think I was paid for each one.
Looking back, I've noticed a theme that is a constant with everything I write. I like the beginning more than the end. I think that's because when I start a project I'm excited about it and the words flow accordingly. As time wears on, my enthusiasm wears down.
My initial goal with Mira's story was to practice comedy. I had hoped for something between Douglas Adams' Hitchhikers series and Terry Pratchett's Discworld. I envisioned a lot of snappy dialogue and one-liners set in a medieval tone. I don't think I got there, at all, although there are some bits that amuse me, even if they don't amuse anyone else; for example, the battle poems. I also wanted to populate a world where one of my other characters (a serious one, this time) lives. His name is Keegan and he'll be coming in some epublished stories, soon.
Things I've learned through this project:
1. Don't take a year to write a story. Keep it up, even if you don't feel like it. I've read that it takes a writer 100,000 words to find his or her voice and if you write about your characters as sporadically as I did on this--as well as on my other practice project--you'll never develop a feeling for them. And if you don't feel for your characters, nobody else will.
2. Know where you're going. This is another problem of mine and anybody I've ever talked with about writing will back that up.
3. Don't give up. Nothing is a waste of time if you learn from it.
4. Well, I forgot what number four was. Perhaps if you try to write at your desk at lunch you're bound to get interrupted.
Despite the mixed results, I've decided to continue both projects, along with this blog and the regular, for-profit (I hope) writing. Mira's next story, which informally starts here, should be a fun time: lost pirates, a stolen treasure or maybe stolen pirates and a lost treasure. Time has been weighing heavily on me lately, and I think the restlessness in my own mind originates from people (and Kats) who want their stories told.
Thanks for checking in and thanks for being patient!
I didn't even promote it when I published it because it was so bad but, if you're interested, you can find it here. Remember, though, that this is a practice blog, a first draft, a virtual writing workout where I tinker with things like dialogue, scene, characterization and--in this story in particular--fight scenes. I just write the entries during my lunch period, run them through a spell checker and post them so there are bound to be some typos, bad wording and the like. Not to mention too many commas. You'd think I was paid for each one.
Looking back, I've noticed a theme that is a constant with everything I write. I like the beginning more than the end. I think that's because when I start a project I'm excited about it and the words flow accordingly. As time wears on, my enthusiasm wears down.
My initial goal with Mira's story was to practice comedy. I had hoped for something between Douglas Adams' Hitchhikers series and Terry Pratchett's Discworld. I envisioned a lot of snappy dialogue and one-liners set in a medieval tone. I don't think I got there, at all, although there are some bits that amuse me, even if they don't amuse anyone else; for example, the battle poems. I also wanted to populate a world where one of my other characters (a serious one, this time) lives. His name is Keegan and he'll be coming in some epublished stories, soon.
Things I've learned through this project:
1. Don't take a year to write a story. Keep it up, even if you don't feel like it. I've read that it takes a writer 100,000 words to find his or her voice and if you write about your characters as sporadically as I did on this--as well as on my other practice project--you'll never develop a feeling for them. And if you don't feel for your characters, nobody else will.
2. Know where you're going. This is another problem of mine and anybody I've ever talked with about writing will back that up.
3. Don't give up. Nothing is a waste of time if you learn from it.
4. Well, I forgot what number four was. Perhaps if you try to write at your desk at lunch you're bound to get interrupted.
Despite the mixed results, I've decided to continue both projects, along with this blog and the regular, for-profit (I hope) writing. Mira's next story, which informally starts here, should be a fun time: lost pirates, a stolen treasure or maybe stolen pirates and a lost treasure. Time has been weighing heavily on me lately, and I think the restlessness in my own mind originates from people (and Kats) who want their stories told.
Thanks for checking in and thanks for being patient!
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Goodbye, Mr. Rooster
Earlier this year I came up with a writing plan so perfect I named it.
I knew I had to write more consistently and I knew I had to find a time without distractions to do that, so I initially thought I would write from 10 p.m. to midnight every night, giving myself one or two nights off each week. The trouble with that plan was after working all day, coming home, doing assorted chores, paying bills, walking the dog, etc...well, when 10 p.m. rolled around I was usually too wiped out to do anything.
Then came the great idea: I'd flip it around. I'd do my writing first thing in the morning--and by first thing, I meant first. Damn. Thing. I would wake up at 4:30 am in hopes of being cognizant and creative by five, so I could get two solid hours in before I had to get ready for work. It was perfect. It was flawless. What distractions could there be at that time of day, when even the bats were sleeping? And thus, The Rooster Plan was born.
Four months and a scant 4,000 words or so later, I had another epiphany. This plan just would not work. On the days that I did wake up that early, I wasn't thinking clearly until nearly 6 a.m. I was wiped out by the time I made it home from work and essentially a drooling automaton throughout family time. The characters that I want to write about--the ones that speak to me more often, sort of clamoring for their release--are generally sarcastic and witty, but they sure didn't seem that way before the sun rose. They were as tired as I was.
I said to myself: "Self, you're a moron. You couldn't wake up at 4:30 in the morning if you rolled out of a flaming bed and into an ice bath. You're just not wired for it."
I am, I admit, being a bit hard on myself. I did have a few productive days. I managed to finish a short story, start another, and edit two others and get them into the submission circle (I should get a rejection notice any day now). I sketched out a few other ideas. The point is this: I was fighting my own nature. I'm not a rooster. I'm an owl.
Writing is hard enough. It is lonely enough. The periods between hard work and (hopefully) reward are long enough. Don't make it worse on yourself by forcing your recalcitrant mind into an arbitrary schedule under the guise of 'getting more done.' It won't work.
So this is me doing two things: (1) getting the blogs back up and running and (2) saying goodbye to the Rooster Plan. Yeah, I may miss the sunrises and the way the birds announce each new day. But I'll save a fortune in coffee and I think I'll be a little more productive this way, too.
I knew I had to write more consistently and I knew I had to find a time without distractions to do that, so I initially thought I would write from 10 p.m. to midnight every night, giving myself one or two nights off each week. The trouble with that plan was after working all day, coming home, doing assorted chores, paying bills, walking the dog, etc...well, when 10 p.m. rolled around I was usually too wiped out to do anything.
Then came the great idea: I'd flip it around. I'd do my writing first thing in the morning--and by first thing, I meant first. Damn. Thing. I would wake up at 4:30 am in hopes of being cognizant and creative by five, so I could get two solid hours in before I had to get ready for work. It was perfect. It was flawless. What distractions could there be at that time of day, when even the bats were sleeping? And thus, The Rooster Plan was born.
Four months and a scant 4,000 words or so later, I had another epiphany. This plan just would not work. On the days that I did wake up that early, I wasn't thinking clearly until nearly 6 a.m. I was wiped out by the time I made it home from work and essentially a drooling automaton throughout family time. The characters that I want to write about--the ones that speak to me more often, sort of clamoring for their release--are generally sarcastic and witty, but they sure didn't seem that way before the sun rose. They were as tired as I was.
I said to myself: "Self, you're a moron. You couldn't wake up at 4:30 in the morning if you rolled out of a flaming bed and into an ice bath. You're just not wired for it."
I am, I admit, being a bit hard on myself. I did have a few productive days. I managed to finish a short story, start another, and edit two others and get them into the submission circle (I should get a rejection notice any day now). I sketched out a few other ideas. The point is this: I was fighting my own nature. I'm not a rooster. I'm an owl.
Writing is hard enough. It is lonely enough. The periods between hard work and (hopefully) reward are long enough. Don't make it worse on yourself by forcing your recalcitrant mind into an arbitrary schedule under the guise of 'getting more done.' It won't work.
So this is me doing two things: (1) getting the blogs back up and running and (2) saying goodbye to the Rooster Plan. Yeah, I may miss the sunrises and the way the birds announce each new day. But I'll save a fortune in coffee and I think I'll be a little more productive this way, too.
Monday, May 20, 2013
"I know the pieces fit..."
Some of my friends know that I follow the Tetris philosophy in life.
Tetris, for those that don't know, is a video game of Russian origin where different shapes drift vertically down the screen and you have to arrange them to form solid horizontal lines. You can manipulate them as they fall, twisting them to the left or right to fit them into place. Once you form a complete line, it disappears. Any gaps in the line makes the shapes stack on top of each other, eventually filling the screen and ending the game. Usually you can recover before that happens. You can put together a different line higher up, cause those blocks to disappear and work your way back down to the bottom of the screen and therefore gain yourself some additional breathing room.
Block it off, start over, work your way back.
I once thought this game was the last, best weapon developed by the Russians during the Cold War because it was distracting and addicting enough to keep the youth of America (and...um...those of us that weren't exactly young when we started playing it) from achieving their full potential. Then I realized it was a good philosophy for handling some of the disappointments we all encounter. Fortunately, my Tetris philosophy is not nearly as bleak as another description of it I found today.
Mine is simply this: Block it off, start over, work your way back.
It has been a troubling year so far--not quite on the Jobian level, but trying nonetheless. Difficulties abound, family members are going through major health crises and the four horsemen of the fiscalpocalypse are cavorting in a nearby meadow (figuratively, of course) and will soon weary of their games and come for me. Also, I recently suffered a disappointment that really knocked me back on my heels—something that I didn't know how to overcome. Then I remembered the Tetris philosophy. Block it off. Start over. Work your way back.
I know, it sounds a bit cheesy. The point is everyone suffers disappointments; you just have to remind yourself that even the most crushing defeat is just a temporary setback. The best way to put it behind you is to dust yourself off and carry on. Samuel Johnson put it this way: "Sorrow is the mere rust of the soul. Activity will cleanse and brighten it."
In short: block it off, start over, work your way back. Maybe the Russians were on to something, after all...
Tetris, for those that don't know, is a video game of Russian origin where different shapes drift vertically down the screen and you have to arrange them to form solid horizontal lines. You can manipulate them as they fall, twisting them to the left or right to fit them into place. Once you form a complete line, it disappears. Any gaps in the line makes the shapes stack on top of each other, eventually filling the screen and ending the game. Usually you can recover before that happens. You can put together a different line higher up, cause those blocks to disappear and work your way back down to the bottom of the screen and therefore gain yourself some additional breathing room.
Block it off, start over, work your way back.
I once thought this game was the last, best weapon developed by the Russians during the Cold War because it was distracting and addicting enough to keep the youth of America (and...um...those of us that weren't exactly young when we started playing it) from achieving their full potential. Then I realized it was a good philosophy for handling some of the disappointments we all encounter. Fortunately, my Tetris philosophy is not nearly as bleak as another description of it I found today.
Mine is simply this: Block it off, start over, work your way back.
It has been a troubling year so far--not quite on the Jobian level, but trying nonetheless. Difficulties abound, family members are going through major health crises and the four horsemen of the fiscalpocalypse are cavorting in a nearby meadow (figuratively, of course) and will soon weary of their games and come for me. Also, I recently suffered a disappointment that really knocked me back on my heels—something that I didn't know how to overcome. Then I remembered the Tetris philosophy. Block it off. Start over. Work your way back.
I know, it sounds a bit cheesy. The point is everyone suffers disappointments; you just have to remind yourself that even the most crushing defeat is just a temporary setback. The best way to put it behind you is to dust yourself off and carry on. Samuel Johnson put it this way: "Sorrow is the mere rust of the soul. Activity will cleanse and brighten it."
In short: block it off, start over, work your way back. Maybe the Russians were on to something, after all...
Thursday, May 2, 2013
"Oh I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more...."
Christopher Hillier is well on his way now, forging a new trail through
familiar territory.
The Taylor resident, an athlete,
adventurer and Army veteran, set out last week to be the first to hike the
proposed trail from Belle Isle to Wisconsin
I met him last week when I traveled to Lansing Canton Township
Hillier is a former Oakwood employee, too, whose six-year army career
helped prepare him for an 18-year career as a cardiovascular technician. I found the entire plan fascinating.
“It’s fun to plan, but not that much fun to watch,” he said. “Once all
the preparations are complete, it’s just a guy walking.”
He’s done that before. Hillier has hiked the entire Appalachian Trail
from Georgia to Maine , as well as the Pacific Crest Trail, which
stretches for 2,600 miles from Mexico
to Canada
He said his desire to inspire others to get active took form when he
saw many cases of cardio vascular disease caused by inactivity.
“If I can encourage people to walk more, I’ll be doing a good thing,”
he said. “I want people to know that they don’t have to hike thousands of
miles, but they do need to get out and be active more often.”
Indeed, both the American Heart Association and American Cancer Society
recommend at least 150 minutes of activity every week. You can break that up
into manageable bits—particularly when you’re just starting out.
The trail Hillier is foraging has not been fully mapped out by the
Michigan Department of Natural Resources, but I think that’s part of his
message. You take small, existing bits and pieces and cobble them together. It
adds up in a hurry, and you get healthier the minute you start.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
One little victory...
The moment many music geeks have been waiting for is here at last: the Canadian power trio Rush has been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
I've always thought it was a travesty that they weren't already included and it's a little sad that, after nearly four decades of creating music and selling millions of albums, CDs, eight-tracks, cassettes or DVDs, it took a vote of the fans to get them in. I'm sure they, like me, see the humor in it and they, also like me, probably aren't too concerned with it. Who cares how long the journey takes, as long as you get there, right? This is more for the fans than the band, anyway.
Still, it is long overdue.
Consider, if nothing else, the lyrics. There is always something of substance there, whether it was a sci-fi inspired story such as the epic 2112 or nods to fantasy fiction with songs like The Necromancer and By-Tor and the Snow Dog. And who else would think to combine space travel and mythology, as they did in the 20-minute Hemispheres?
Consider, in no particular order, some of my favorites:
"Life is just a candle and our dreams
must give it flame"
--The Fountain of Lamneth
"Courageous convictions will drag your dreams into existence"
--Vital Signs
"Once we loved the flowers,
now we ask the price of the land
Once we would drink water
but now it must be wine,"
--I Think I'm Going Bald
"Everyone would gather on the 24th of May
sitting in the sands to watch the fireworks display
Dancing fires on the beach,
singing songs together
although it's just a memory
some memories last forever"
--Lakeside Park
"Each of us: a cell of awareness
imperfect and incomplete
genetic blends
with uncertain ends
on a fortune hunt that's far too fleet"
--Freewill
"Some are born to move the world
to live their fantasies
but most of us just dream about
the things we'd like to be
sadder still to watch it die than never to have known it
for you, the blind who once could see,
the bell tolls for thee"
--Losing It
and all of Something For Nothing.
I could go on, of course, but will stop there in the interests of time.
Suffice it to say that it wasn't essential for Rush to be in the hall of fame, but it's a nice little tribute to a musical career that has already meant so much to so many. I'm sure the guys in the band care more about that, anyway.
I've always thought it was a travesty that they weren't already included and it's a little sad that, after nearly four decades of creating music and selling millions of albums, CDs, eight-tracks, cassettes or DVDs, it took a vote of the fans to get them in. I'm sure they, like me, see the humor in it and they, also like me, probably aren't too concerned with it. Who cares how long the journey takes, as long as you get there, right? This is more for the fans than the band, anyway.
Still, it is long overdue.
Consider, if nothing else, the lyrics. There is always something of substance there, whether it was a sci-fi inspired story such as the epic 2112 or nods to fantasy fiction with songs like The Necromancer and By-Tor and the Snow Dog. And who else would think to combine space travel and mythology, as they did in the 20-minute Hemispheres?
Consider, in no particular order, some of my favorites:
"Life is just a candle and our dreams
must give it flame"
--The Fountain of Lamneth
"Courageous convictions will drag your dreams into existence"
--Vital Signs
"Once we loved the flowers,
now we ask the price of the land
Once we would drink water
but now it must be wine,"
--I Think I'm Going Bald
"Everyone would gather on the 24th of May
sitting in the sands to watch the fireworks display
Dancing fires on the beach,
singing songs together
although it's just a memory
some memories last forever"
--Lakeside Park
"Each of us: a cell of awareness
imperfect and incomplete
genetic blends
with uncertain ends
on a fortune hunt that's far too fleet"
--Freewill
"Some are born to move the world
to live their fantasies
but most of us just dream about
the things we'd like to be
sadder still to watch it die than never to have known it
for you, the blind who once could see,
the bell tolls for thee"
--Losing It
and all of Something For Nothing.
I could go on, of course, but will stop there in the interests of time.
Suffice it to say that it wasn't essential for Rush to be in the hall of fame, but it's a nice little tribute to a musical career that has already meant so much to so many. I'm sure the guys in the band care more about that, anyway.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
"Put me in coach; I'm ready to play, today..."
Another baseball season is here and 2013 is another year of high expectations for the Detroit Tigers.
As I write this, they are fresh off an Opening Day victory over the Minnesota Twins, in which I saw some of the same things that irritated me so often in past years: stranded runners, a too-short outing from our staff ace, a cringe-inducing bullpen...but why quibble. A win is a win.
Today, Anibal Sanchez will be on the mound and he is one of the keys to the Tigers' season. He is one of the top prospects for team whipping boy this year. The contract he signed during the off-season was much too lucrative for a guy who has only had one winning season.
I will not claim to be a very well-educated baseball statistician, but here are my thoughts on the upcoming season:
Reasons for concern:
1. The bullpen. Lack of a defined closer is a major issue, no matter what the Tigers' brass is saying about it right now. Manager Jim Leyland said as much early on in spring training when he referred to his preference for a regular 9th inning guy.
2. Sanchez. While his career ERA is a solid 3.75, Sanchez has never topped 13 wins in a single season and has a sub .500 record for his career. Granted, on a team led by Justin Verlander, Max Scherzer and Doug Fister, he doesn't have to carry a huge load, but with Scherzer's relative inconsistency and Fister's injury troubles last year, he'll be an important—and expensive—cog in the pitching rotation.
3. The bench. Not very deep or talented.
Reasons for optimism:
1. Starting rotation. Yes, there are question marks, but if everyone performs up to their potential and there are no major injuries, the rotation is as good as or better than the starting five on most other clubs. If things go really well, look for Rick Porcello or Drew Smyly to be used to gain some additional pieces later this year—perhaps a closer or more well-rounded shortstop.
2. Fewer questions. Last year, we didn't know who our starting second baseman was until Omar Infante joined us late in the season. We have a regular DH now, in Victor Martinez, who will help protect Miguel Cabrera and Prince Fielder, and a solid number-two hitter in Tori Hunter.
3. Better outfield defense. Hunter is one of my favorite players and by far the Tigers' best signing of the off-season. His addition and Andy Dirks' status as the regular left fielder will no doubt be an improvement over Brennan Boesch and Delmon 'Baby Steps' Young.
Prediction:
I'll put them in first by a game or two. It will not be the runaway that many have suggested. I think The Royals will hang around for a long time, as will the White Sox. The Royals are always hungry and scrappy, continually playing above their talent level. I think the Tigers will take the division, in the end, and I just hope it won't be as irritating to watch as it was last year.
Play ball!
Friday, March 1, 2013
Handle with kid gloves...
Henry was in the computer room, hunched over his laptop when I came home
last night. His body language told me most of the story: slouched over, his
eyes were downcast and his cheeks, puffy. His tone told me the rest.
"Hi dad," he said, his voice thick with recent tears. "I had a bad day today."
Bullying had reared its ugly head.
"I heard," I said. "What happened?" Then I winced at his frustrated, clipped account of the day that was punctuated by a very rare bit of profanity and, even more heartbreaking, additional tears.
Not to get too graphic or profane in the recounting of that, but he had another encounter with a kid at his middle school: some flung food and laughter at lunch and then a shouted insult implied when he was in the middle of a presentation and his teacher was out of the room. Maybe they were not big things, or dangerous things, but they had been building up for some time.
I had been expecting it, as I guess every parent should. Bullying is a sad part of growing up and middle school—which Henry started this year—is where some of those patterns start to develop. Even so, I still felt unprepared for the discussion. I wasn't in the best of moods myself, after my usually frustrating drive home, and I don't feel like I'm the best person in the world to tackle this subject to begin with. I'm sure other parents will identify with the white hot rage I feel when someone—no matter how old—threatens or picks on my kid. At the same time, the adult in me knows there's an appropriate measured response that will be more productive than simply saying: Well, throw it back.
It can be hard to distinguish between the kind of general joking around and teasing that all children engage in and bullying behavior. It's also hard to know the appropriate response. Henry knows how to defend himself, verbally. He's got a couple of uncles that keep him on his toes in that regard, and we usually engage in some playful back-and-forths ourselves.
It becomes a problem when it's consistent, habitual and mean-spirited. If you're looking for it, the symptoms are easy to see: a gradual loss of enthusiasm about school; slipping grades; being quiet and withdrawn. Henry hadn't shown those signs yet, thankfully, but he said something during our initial discussion that stood out like a beacon: "it had been building for some time."
The thing is, I know the kid in question. He's one of Henry's friends. When Henry went to sixth grade camp and I volunteered as a parent chaperone, this kid was the one Henry chose to bunk with us and be a part of our group. He didn't seem like a bully; he was friendly—funny even.
So what can you do?
Well, first of all, don't let it build up. When you're talking with your children about school, listen for things that might have upset them. Make a mental note. If you see patterns emerge, ask them about it.
Hear them out. Remember, 'silent' and 'listen' use the same letters. If you are shocked by the language they use when talking about it, keep that to yourself—at least at first. It's important for them to be honest and open about their feelings and the kind of language they use, however harsh, may be an indicator of how serious the issue is and how upset they are by it.
Talk about some different courses of action, but let them make the ultimate choice. And, as much as you might be tempted to say it or suggest it, telling them to 'hit them back' or 'you can come up with a better insult than that' isn't sound parenting.
In our case, we talked about if the child was trying to impress a new group of friends, if he was jealous that Henry was doing better in school, if there was a mutual friend—i.e., a girl—involved, or if he might've done something to set the other kid off, or if there might be something going on at his house that we didn't know about.
Henry didn't want to go to a counselor. I, recalling an episode of The Brady Bunch, stopped short at suggesting I go talk to the other boy's dad. We came up with a couple of different ways to approach the subject and decided a phone call would be best, but Henry came up with the solution on his own.
"We're good," he said, a little later, walking out of his room with a relieved smile on his face.
"Oh, you called him already? What happened?" I thought he was still thinking about it.
"I told him we had both a little hard on each other lately, and asked if he wanted to start over and go back to being friends," Henry said. "He said 'yes'."
Problem solved, for now. Perhaps that's a lesson we can all use: a little honest communication and admitting your own responsibility can go a long way toward resolving anything.
"Hi dad," he said, his voice thick with recent tears. "I had a bad day today."
Bullying had reared its ugly head.
"I heard," I said. "What happened?" Then I winced at his frustrated, clipped account of the day that was punctuated by a very rare bit of profanity and, even more heartbreaking, additional tears.
Not to get too graphic or profane in the recounting of that, but he had another encounter with a kid at his middle school: some flung food and laughter at lunch and then a shouted insult implied when he was in the middle of a presentation and his teacher was out of the room. Maybe they were not big things, or dangerous things, but they had been building up for some time.
I had been expecting it, as I guess every parent should. Bullying is a sad part of growing up and middle school—which Henry started this year—is where some of those patterns start to develop. Even so, I still felt unprepared for the discussion. I wasn't in the best of moods myself, after my usually frustrating drive home, and I don't feel like I'm the best person in the world to tackle this subject to begin with. I'm sure other parents will identify with the white hot rage I feel when someone—no matter how old—threatens or picks on my kid. At the same time, the adult in me knows there's an appropriate measured response that will be more productive than simply saying: Well, throw it back.
It can be hard to distinguish between the kind of general joking around and teasing that all children engage in and bullying behavior. It's also hard to know the appropriate response. Henry knows how to defend himself, verbally. He's got a couple of uncles that keep him on his toes in that regard, and we usually engage in some playful back-and-forths ourselves.
It becomes a problem when it's consistent, habitual and mean-spirited. If you're looking for it, the symptoms are easy to see: a gradual loss of enthusiasm about school; slipping grades; being quiet and withdrawn. Henry hadn't shown those signs yet, thankfully, but he said something during our initial discussion that stood out like a beacon: "it had been building for some time."
The thing is, I know the kid in question. He's one of Henry's friends. When Henry went to sixth grade camp and I volunteered as a parent chaperone, this kid was the one Henry chose to bunk with us and be a part of our group. He didn't seem like a bully; he was friendly—funny even.
So what can you do?
Well, first of all, don't let it build up. When you're talking with your children about school, listen for things that might have upset them. Make a mental note. If you see patterns emerge, ask them about it.
Hear them out. Remember, 'silent' and 'listen' use the same letters. If you are shocked by the language they use when talking about it, keep that to yourself—at least at first. It's important for them to be honest and open about their feelings and the kind of language they use, however harsh, may be an indicator of how serious the issue is and how upset they are by it.
Talk about some different courses of action, but let them make the ultimate choice. And, as much as you might be tempted to say it or suggest it, telling them to 'hit them back' or 'you can come up with a better insult than that' isn't sound parenting.
In our case, we talked about if the child was trying to impress a new group of friends, if he was jealous that Henry was doing better in school, if there was a mutual friend—i.e., a girl—involved, or if he might've done something to set the other kid off, or if there might be something going on at his house that we didn't know about.
Henry didn't want to go to a counselor. I, recalling an episode of The Brady Bunch, stopped short at suggesting I go talk to the other boy's dad. We came up with a couple of different ways to approach the subject and decided a phone call would be best, but Henry came up with the solution on his own.
"We're good," he said, a little later, walking out of his room with a relieved smile on his face.
"Oh, you called him already? What happened?" I thought he was still thinking about it.
"I told him we had both a little hard on each other lately, and asked if he wanted to start over and go back to being friends," Henry said. "He said 'yes'."
Problem solved, for now. Perhaps that's a lesson we can all use: a little honest communication and admitting your own responsibility can go a long way toward resolving anything.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
"I'm not looking back, but I want to look around me now..."
So it is now three weeks into the New Year, and I see that I have only
contributed one entry to this blog and, even worse, haven't kept up on my
writing, at all.
That's not good—not when my main personal goal for 2013 (call it a New Year's Resolution, if you must) is to finally get into a regular writing routine and get published. It is a lofty goal, but I know I can't do one without doing the other.
This, then, is an attempt to outline all the projects I have bouncing around in my head and on various thumb drives, so that I can prioritize them, finish them, cross them off and move on. It will also serve to further motivate me, because there is power in telling other people your goals. It gives strength to those visions and the people you confide in can help hold you accountable on those days when you cannot. In no particular order:
Short term projects (short stories):
Mid-to-long-term projects:
Long term projects (novels):
Longest term project:
Ongoing projects:
That's a lot. It's no wonder why it's difficult to get anything done because, looked at one the whole, it's overwhelming. What, then, do you do?
I'm reminded of a fire chief I once interviewed shortly after Hurricane Katrina. He took a crew down in the aftermath to help out in the clean up effort and my first comment to him was: obviously, we've seen the destruction on television, but I doubt those scenes really do it justice. What was that like, seeing it in person and how do you begin to even put a dent in that kind of destruction?
I had nearly answered my own question, but he was more succinct. You don't look at the entire catastrophe—that could get overwhelming. You look at your part of it and develop a series of tasks that, step by step, allow you to accomplish your goals. For example, his crew needed to get to a fire station. What was the first thing they had to do? Clear the road. To do that, they had to cut up a gigantic tree that lay across it. To do that, they needed a saw, and so on.
It's common sense when you look at it that way and it's applicable to just about anything in life (not just natural disasters). Break down whatever chaos you want to control in to manageable steps that will let you build some kind of momentum and confidence as you tackle the bigger task.
Now that I've reminded myself of that simple truth, here's what I'm going to do. (1). Resubmit Unclaimed to other markets. (2) Rework A Better Way and send that out. (3) Rework Keeper of the Dead—perhaps that should not be a fantasy story, but a gothic horror story, instead. All that would require is a few new names. Alternate fantasy and mystery short stories so that I've always got things circulating without overwhelming any particular market.
In the meantime, I will look into ePublishing, and decide if that's the direction I'd like to move into. (this will probably be the subject of a future blog). Ideally, I'd like to come up with a formula, a version of the 'three strikes and you're out' rule, that would have me submitting work to traditional markets, and self publishing them if they are not accepted there. We'll see.
I will also choose a longer work to fiddle around with, too, and post blogs more frequently. That should certainly keep me busy, given that I only have about two hours of free time every day. My goal is to spend one of those hours editing and the other writing. It should let me accomplish enough small tasks to keep me from looking back—or getting bogged down and discouraged.
So that's the plan for now. Any thoughts?
That's not good—not when my main personal goal for 2013 (call it a New Year's Resolution, if you must) is to finally get into a regular writing routine and get published. It is a lofty goal, but I know I can't do one without doing the other.
This, then, is an attempt to outline all the projects I have bouncing around in my head and on various thumb drives, so that I can prioritize them, finish them, cross them off and move on. It will also serve to further motivate me, because there is power in telling other people your goals. It gives strength to those visions and the people you confide in can help hold you accountable on those days when you cannot. In no particular order:
Short term projects (short stories):
·
Unclaimed, a fantasy story featuring a series
character (circulating)
·
A
Better Way
·
Short Drive To Nowhere, a mystery (first draft
complete)
·
Two Cows Too Many, a fantasy/mystery story
(rejected once, needs an update)
·
Keeper of the Dead, a fantasy/horror story
(rejected twice, needs an update)
·
The Sigilist, a fantasy story (first draft
complete)
·
Three Sacrifices, a fantasy story featuring
series character from Unclaimed (first draft complete)
·
Ogre Tells a Story, a fantasy/allegory (barely
under way)
·
Protector, an old fantasy story (first draft
complete, possibly worth a new look)
Mid-to-long-term projects:
·
The Forgotten Man, a Charlie Morton mystery
(first draft complete. Rewrite as graphic novel script?)
Long term projects (novels):
·
Rynik’s Revenge, a fantasy (meant to be one
book, but the first draft came in at 300,000 words)
·
Short Drive to Nowhere (novel version of story,
first draft complete)
·
The Other Side of Goodbye (prequel to SDTN,
concept, few scenes only)
·
The Fading of Harvey Puckett, a mystery/horror
story about Alzheimer’s Disease and an old curse (concept, prologue sketched
out, a few characters)
·
The Midnight Train (or Sunset Train),
mystery/thriller sequel to ‘Fading’ (concept only)
·
Out of the Rain, character piece based loosely
on northern community (concept, a few characters)
·
The Last Day, a mystery based on an interview I
once had with a ‘freelance priest’ who serves as an interim pastor at troubled
churches across the country (concept only)
·
The Herald of South Haven, a fantasy/allegory
based on my experience as a newspaper reporter and editor (concept, synopsis
finished)
·
The Hive, a science fiction story based on my
lawn at my old house in Wayne
·
12 Hours to Prattville
Longest term project:
·
The complete story of fantasy series character
from Unclaimed and Three Sacrifices. (World under construction, a few outlines,
characters, gods
Ongoing projects:
That's a lot. It's no wonder why it's difficult to get anything done because, looked at one the whole, it's overwhelming. What, then, do you do?
I'm reminded of a fire chief I once interviewed shortly after Hurricane Katrina. He took a crew down in the aftermath to help out in the clean up effort and my first comment to him was: obviously, we've seen the destruction on television, but I doubt those scenes really do it justice. What was that like, seeing it in person and how do you begin to even put a dent in that kind of destruction?
I had nearly answered my own question, but he was more succinct. You don't look at the entire catastrophe—that could get overwhelming. You look at your part of it and develop a series of tasks that, step by step, allow you to accomplish your goals. For example, his crew needed to get to a fire station. What was the first thing they had to do? Clear the road. To do that, they had to cut up a gigantic tree that lay across it. To do that, they needed a saw, and so on.
It's common sense when you look at it that way and it's applicable to just about anything in life (not just natural disasters). Break down whatever chaos you want to control in to manageable steps that will let you build some kind of momentum and confidence as you tackle the bigger task.
Now that I've reminded myself of that simple truth, here's what I'm going to do. (1). Resubmit Unclaimed to other markets. (2) Rework A Better Way and send that out. (3) Rework Keeper of the Dead—perhaps that should not be a fantasy story, but a gothic horror story, instead. All that would require is a few new names. Alternate fantasy and mystery short stories so that I've always got things circulating without overwhelming any particular market.
In the meantime, I will look into ePublishing, and decide if that's the direction I'd like to move into. (this will probably be the subject of a future blog). Ideally, I'd like to come up with a formula, a version of the 'three strikes and you're out' rule, that would have me submitting work to traditional markets, and self publishing them if they are not accepted there. We'll see.
I will also choose a longer work to fiddle around with, too, and post blogs more frequently. That should certainly keep me busy, given that I only have about two hours of free time every day. My goal is to spend one of those hours editing and the other writing. It should let me accomplish enough small tasks to keep me from looking back—or getting bogged down and discouraged.
So that's the plan for now. Any thoughts?
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Alas, poor Peter....
Before it even hit the shelves a week ago, Amazing Spider-Man #700 caused quite a stir.That's not all that surprising: it's not every day that you kill off one of your more popular characters in a particularly horrifying way. Yet that is what Dan Slott and Marvel Comics did to Peter Parker, as they ended the historic series and prepared to launch a follow up, Superior Spider-Man, which hits stores next week.
For those who hadn't heard, the issue opens with Parker's mind trapped in the dying body of his long-time nemesis, Dr. Otto Octavius (Dr. Octopus), while his old enemy is getting accustomed to his body and friends. As Doc Ock, Peter races against time and his own failing body—even enlisting the help of other old enemies—in an attempt to reverse the process and therefore save his legacy.
He fails. Alas, Peter Parker is no more (for now, anyway) and Octavius is left, alive and sound, in Parker's body.
It's quite a bold stroke on Marvel's part and it has, understandably, been met with strong criticism from long-time readers of the franchise.
I'm on the fence with it. I've read comics for about 30 years now, but can't recall ever picking up an issue of Amazing Spider-man (although I did try out the 'Ultimate Spider-Man' series when it first started). I'm familiar with the character, of course, and all he's been through and I have always been fond of him—even if I didn't shell out a few bucks every week to follow his adventures and misadventures.
Slott's story is well done. Even though it is the end of a story arc and I sensed there were nuances I had therefore missed, I had no problem jumping in and following along. There were moments of real emotion that seeped out of the page and, even though I had read all the spoilers and knew what was going to happen, I still thought Parker would make it out in the end.
I have two problems with it. First, I didn't buy Octavius' abrupt change of heart. I understand that, as he felt his way around Peter's mind that he experienced what Parker had experienced, including the tragedies that led to his guiding philosophy of 'with great power comes great responsibility.' I just don't think Octavius would care. I don't think that would be enough to make him want to turn from his past in order to carry on Parker's legacy and become a '
I also think it sells Mary Jane a bit short—although one interchange between her and Octavius/Parker made me laugh out loud. She's a smart woman, and, given the history they share together, I think she'd sense something was up right away and seek help.
Perhaps I'm just a bit picky.
All that said, there is tremendous potential for new plotlines and great character building as this story develops. I have no doubt Peter Parker will return and can only hope, when that happens, that is handled in a thoughtful manner. Until then, there should be plenty of drama, excitement and more than a few laughs along the way.
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