10 Things That Make Me Happy...and some random things I'm looking forward to.

Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and in between snatches of school related stress (moments during which I am in the pit of despair, as Anne of Green Gables would say), I find small things to be happy about. Such as:

1. Reaching 45,000 words on my novel (sorry, NaNo, I had a head start).
2. Pie. I love pie, and Pie Day (aka Turkey day [aka Thanksgiving]) is fast approaching!
3. Coffee. It keeps me going...faster and faster until I crash. As long as I can make it to finals week, I will be ok.
4. My family. Because there are people in the world who are as crazy as me.
5. Music. Yours, mine, somebody else's--it doesn't matter as long as it's good. (As a songwriter, though, I am probably biased...)
6. Books. But I reserve the right to hate the ones I have to read for school, just on principle. I will love them again as soon as they are no longer attached to deadlines.
7. Green Chile. There are no words to do it justice, but I may attempt to write a song about it anyway...one day.
8. Steak. Especially free steak, but hey...
9. Being an Adult (aka being able to eat chips and salsa for dinner if I so desire). This one only stands on the days when # 10 is not in effect.
10. Being a kid. Because I'm still unencumbered enough to dodge my responsibilities like the best of 'em...except when #9 kicks in and my guilty conscious gets the best of me.


Also, my personal lights-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel are:

1.The arrival of Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows at my local theater.

2. My library's annual book sale (woo!)
3. The -still-quite-a-ways-away arrival of Hunger Games the movie at my local theater
4. Pie Day! Thanksgiving (yes, I also love mashed potatoes and gravy).

Watson, the Game is Afoot...

Today, NaNoWriMo began. I'm already behind, as I haven't had a spare minute (until now) to actually write anything creative. Well, I guess I'm technically still on schedule--I'm shooting for weekly word counts. I am a grad student, after all. I have to prioritize.

Also, if I sound a bit defensive, it's because I've just recovered from the worst bout of writer's block I've ever had. EVER. In my entire seven years of writing, I have never been blocked this badly. I'm sure my film noir professor can attest to this fact--she's probably grimacing over some poorly done reading responses, right about now.

Anyway, here's the game plan: I need to write 20,000 to 30,000 words before the end of November. Real, coherent, part-of-my-novel words. I know, that's not quite 50k. Don't rub it in. I'm crazy enough to be attempting this at all. That divvies out to be 5,000 to 8,000 words a week. Two to three chapters. Should be cake...

Heffalumps and Woozles (Writers and Readers)

I just want you all to know I've got Winnie the Pooh on my mind:

Heffalumps and Woozles: They're black they're brown, they're up, they're down They're in, they're out they're all about, They're far, they're near they're gone, they're here! They're quick and slick they're insincere Beware! Beware! Be a very wary bear A heffalump or woozle is very confusil A heffalump or woozle's very sly! (sly) (sly) (sly) They come in ones and twosles but If they so choosles Before your eyes you'll see them -multiply (ply) (ply) (ply)

Writers and Readers. Heffalumps and Woozles. What do they have in common? "They come in ones and twosles," that's what. They need each other (I'm conveniently ignoring the bit about them being quick, slick, and insincere).

Composition theorist Peter Elbow agrees:

People who get better and get published really tend to be driven by how much they care about their writing. Yes, they have a small audience at first--after all, they're not very good. But they try reader after reader until finally they can find people who like and appreciate their writing...It may sound so far as though all the effort and drive comes from the lonely driven writer...but, often enough, readers play the crucially active story of how writers get better.

 Also, I'll have a readable second draft of my novel ready by the end of December. Hint, hint.

NaNoWriMo...

I find this sort of ironic. Throughout my undergraduate career, I told myself I'd do NaNoWriMo but inevitably chickened out because I had "too much to do." Four years in a row, I chickened out.

Well, guess what. I finally broke. As a first year graduate student who also happens to be teaching (or attempting to teach?) a bunch of freshman how to write, I am participating in NaNoWriMo for the first time. It's a desperate act. I'm a desperate individual. I want to finish the novel I've been working on for three years. It is time.

I'd like to say that I've finally mastered the art of time management and that, although my workload is exponentially larger, I have everything under control. But that would be a lie. I still procrastinate and reading still takes time (theory reading takes obscene amounts of time). I'm just frantically scrambling to finish my "small" sets of weekly work before November arrives.

Hey, I've never claimed to be completely sane...

Anyway, in honor of the approaching madness, I've complied a list of the five craziest writers I've heard of/admire most (in no particular order of craziness or admiration):

1. Hunter S. Thompson (Fear and Loathing, anyone?)
2. Jack Kerouac (hobos and mushrooms and booze, oh my!)
3. T.S. Eliot (because an Insane Asylum is not an appropriate way to separate from a spouse)
4. Sylvia Plath (Bell Jar...mhmm)
5. Lewis Carrol (tea time, anyone?)

Miranda Rights for Writers: the Importance of Thick Skin

I am a writer. I am also an English Major. I've got a shiny new degree and I can analyze literature until you're blue in the face (I'm pretty much immune by now). Although I love both roles, my loyalties lie with you brave, possibly misguided souls who (like me) find the courage and the tenacity to be writers.

So, as a classically liminal character, I am offering you this warning. I'll offer it only once, and will refuse to take mercy on you if you fail to heed it. Because, after all, English Literature is my day job. I gotta do what I gotta do.

You have the right to stop writing. Anything you type on that page can and will--in the event of your publication--be used against you in an English classroom.

Go ahead. Laugh. You should find this funny while you can. But if you're ever published, you may one day face a situation like this one:

*Insert nostalgic, bell-ringy music* Your book has been published. It's also a best seller and an award-winning literary wonder. English professors across the globe are assigning it as required reading for their students.

Awesome, right? But wait--there's more...

Your novel is about a brown mouse who meets a rare green mouse. The mice get married. They live happily ever after... until the green mouse decides to poison the brown mouse. Then a white mouse comes and puts the green mouse in prison. Of course, the brown mouse is dead.

It's simple. Interesting. Possibly a classic noir text. That's all there is to it, right?

WRONG.

Get ready to grow some thick skin, because what I'm about to say is not for the squeamish.

Remember that part where I said English professors were assigning your book across the globe? Well guess what, that means thousands of students must find something to say about it. The involved ones will even try to same something new and not-entirely-obvious. Somebody somewhere is going to interpret your work in ways you never imagined or desired. It's mathematically inevitable (trust me, I have an English degree and therefore know EVERYTHING about math. How hard can that be? Numbers! Hah! I can count).

Be prepared, writers, be prepared. It's not such a bad thing--remember, this scenario requires you to be published and excellent.

(For more tongue-in-cheek fun, view Writer's Digest's "Miranda Rights for Writers" [which may have been more appropriately named "Miranda Rights for Writers' Families and Friends"]).

Film Noir and Hardboiled Fiction

I'm taking a film noir class this semester, and consequentially, I've got murder on the brain.
In fact, I just finished reading Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep. Call me a nerd, but I LOVE that book. It has insane people, murder, mayhem, and a couple of bookstore scenes. What more could a lit/mystery junkie ask for?

Anyway, I'm including a link to Raymond Chandler's essay, "The Simple Art of Murder," and a list of my top ten favorite detectives (in or out of film) of all time.

Enjoy!

10. Nancy Drew

9. Hercule Poirot

8. The Great Mouse Detective

7. Miss Marple

6. Harry Dresden

5. Philip Marlowe (aka Doghouse Reilly)

4. Father Brown

3. Sam Spade

2. Charlie Chan

1. Sherlock Holmes

Of Men and Monkeys:

So, I've been thinking about monkeys today. It started in the shower--like many brilliant ideas do. At least for me. Moving on...

What is it with flying monkeys and dancing monkeys? They're everywhere, and they are the most prominent fictional monkeys around. Besides Aladdin's Aboo. But I digress...

I'm beginning to suspect that there is something very significant about flying and dancing monkeys.

Why, you ask?

Monkeys reflect our [humans'] fear of becoming subservient drones (i.e., slaves to the man [probably because we use monkeys in so many ways. Think rocket ships, test subjects]). But is there a fundamental difference between a dancing monkey and a flying monkey? And, if so, which one is better off? If they serve as representations of mankind, which I'm arguing they do, which kind of monkey would you rather be?

Here is my theory:

A dancing monkey has a master and dances to a beat. A flying monkey has a master and acts as a henchman. Both monkeys serve to promote and/or increase the master's gain. So it all comes down to the master...

Witch or Organ Grinder? That is the question.

And this is where my thoughts become goopy and metaphorical.

Metaphor one: marriage. Would you rather be married to a witch, or a go-getter (who may also be a musician, this part of my analysis is unclear)?

Metaphor two: life. Would you be happier as Slave-who-must-dance or Slave-who-must-run-errands-and-listen-to-a-crazy-woman-cackle-all-day-long?

I have no answers.