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Unbroken (The Book) and the pattern -- scarcity, poverty, lack

5/16/2015

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More than one person recommended Unbroken to me. I resisted it because I suspected it might be one of those works lately classified as "torture porn." After being assured that it was much more than that, I picked up the book and I admit that I am inspired.

This is a story of one human being's miraculous ability to survive a relentless stream of conditions that most of us would simply not live through. It certainly helps put a person's troubles into perspective. There is always something to whine or worry about and it helps the rest of us realize how easy we have it. We suffer over poor service at a restaurant, a thoughtless remark from a coworker, or having nothing "good" to eat in the house. Lord! Unbroken should be required reading for every middle or upper middle class whiner or potential whiner.

UPDATE: So I stopped writing this "review" or whatever it was yesterday and just saved it in my drafts folder. I might as well release it now because I realize that I'll never finish writing it in the way I had intended. The reason is that I feel I have no right to comment at all on this man's life. His experiences are so far out of the realm of my reality that all I can do is be a humble spectator and hope that his story was moved into my awareness for a reason.

Those of you who are Spock-types or (more confusing to me) religious but you don't believe that there is any divine intervention in your daily lives will not appreciate my constant search for patterns with meaning. That is the way I think -- whether I may be judged as superstitious, gullible, ignorant, etc. -- looking for patterns and the lessons in them is compulsory. That's the way I roll. I respect the scientific method, believe that evolution is a reality, and I also think that there is a reason I am here and that clues are being dropped all the time (by... some intelligent being...?) with the intent that I notice and learn from them. Maybe the person reading this extremely obscure and self-indulgent blog might wonder why they are reading a discussion of Louis Zamperini and the loss of everything save the will to survive... maybe?

So, just as I have been noticing a pattern of these issues of poverty coming to me (see previous posts), Unbroken is a continuation of this. This is a true story of a man who was stripped of everything -- food, safety, shelter, clothing, health, intimacy, love, vocation, and respect -- and managed to not only live but come through whole on the other side. What do these illustrations of scarcity and loss mean for me? Is it trying to tell me that I shouldn't feel sorry for myself? Is it encouraging me to take my skills and privilege and do something dramatically unselfish? It's not all that obvious yet, but I feel sure it has something to do with my reactive misery* over this job search.

When I was a little younger, good career opportunities just fell in my lap and I took them for granted. Though I was the sought after individual, I was probably not always the best person for these positions because I didn't have the kind of deep work ethic that I have now. When I was teaching in public school, I did have a powerful work ethic, but approximately ten years ago my life situation (i.e. new mother) interfered with my being the best that I could be; I had a job to do that was even more important than breaking down the literary elements in Of Mice and Men (and I do not underestimate the importance of that, not one bit). I had to leave long enough to get my babies launched into health and well-being.  Now that I've gotten them there, I'm feeling lack -- lack of money, lack of connections, and lack of good opportunities. This is a new and depressing experience for me, especially since I know that I am a good bet to be a loyal, humble, long-term employee because my family and I are so ready -- and I want it so bad.

We don't always gets just what we want in life. Louis Zamperini prayed for rescue, first from a raft on the Pacific and later from a POW camp. I'm praying for something much less dramatic -- just a job that fits me -- that will pay my bills and allow me to put money away for college before my children turn eighteen. My wants are laughable compared to his -- absolutely ludicrous -- but feeling ridiculous about it doesn't make me want it any less. I'm hoping that I will figure out this lesson about poverty soon, because I have this idea that figuring it out will get me unstuck.





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It's 4:20 AM

10/11/2014

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About an hour ago I woke up, unable to sleep. Ate an apple, heated some milk, and now my eyes are droopy. I spent the last half an hour reading the sequel to Dark Corner as it is so far. And so far, I'm pleased. Writing is so strange for me because I don't remember what I write. It might was well be someone else writing this stuff, because I don't recognize it. I just revise and edit it. I recognize my voice in the writing, of course, and I recognize my goofy love of paranormal stuff. Sometimes it embarrasses me how much I love ghosty, psychic stuff.  I guess it touches on the same reason that Harry Potter is so popular. Doesn't everyone wish that the occult (why would I used such a loaded word as "occult" when I could say "magic" and make it more wholesome and Disney, somehow?) were more palpable and malleable? That we could take the elements of our life that are not to our satisfaction and use it to alter and repair the problems?  So, I'm not such a freak for being attracted to the occult. I always was interested, and it made my mother really nervous when I was a kid. Truthfully, I'm no practicing pagan or Wiccan, or whatever the appropriate label is, but I still find it all fascinating.

But I digress...

Again...

The point to this blog (gag) is something I heard on public radio (gag). You know, I just love public radio, even as the world news tortures me. This was the show Radiolab, and what really got my attention was the opening of the show, rather than the intended theme.  The question author Eugene Thacker (In the Dust of this Planet) was answering for himself was whether he should still write the books he felt compelled to write if he knew no one would read them. And I've already given away the answer with the word, "compelled." Of course he would write them. I feel the same way. Writers are a dime a dozen. We were born with this internal drive to put fun house mirror reflections of ourselves out to the world. It might be fun if these creations made money or if people actually read them, but ultimately that is not the reason they exist. If the end goal of money and readers was the only motivator, there wouldn't be much (if any) high quality texts out there.

I like to write. When I come back to read and revise, I'm usually pleased with what I have done. Now that Dark Corner is out there in book form, I feel embarrassed about it for some reason. I'm sure that if I read it again I'd be pleased with it. It became just the sort of fun that I wanted it to be. I loved reading books in that same style when I was a child, so I do admit to liking my own story. I think it is the innocence of it in this cynical world that embarrasses me, but I write for myself. I really do.

That doesn't mean I would turn down financial success if it came my way. Being firmly part of "the other 98 percent" money would be a miracle. But if it means I have to stop writing and put a bunch of time, effort and money into marketing, I would just prefer to write my books and let them float out there in the unknown. Now if I had a prayer or spell, I would just create time to write, because 4:00AM is not ideal.


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Ruby's Spoon by Anna Lawrence Pietroni

7/19/2014

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Somehow, I ran into Ruby's Spoon at the dollar store. How on earth this novel got to a PA dollar store, I will never know, but I consider myself quite fortunate. I don't feel quite up to the task of reviewing this novel; I can only write of my experience of it.

I wasn't sure I'd make it through this book, because the people in this narrative felt so strange and foreign to me. I had trouble imagining this odd world in which a motherless little girl cannot cross a bridge to touch her father. Most reviewers mention the dialect as an obstacle to fluency, but it wasn't quite as difficult for me to navigate as was the odd behavior of the people. Yet, somehow, I found myself slowly moving under its spell. It took me months to get through the first fourth of the book; I kept losing it. Finally, I found my way and then "I couldn't put it down." Trite, but true.

If I were to go back in time and pick up this novel for the first time again, I would treat it more like an academic exercise. I would print out a copy of the map, and write down a character description of each one along with his or her relationship to the others in the town. Having said that, I don't think it is valid criticism when reviewers mention that it is a difficult read or "hard to get into." It simply doesn't belong in the light read category and challenges the reader to pay attention and be aware. I was approaching this as a lazy, summer read, (probably because I bought it for a dollar), yet it is anything but.

Maybe this post will scare people off of reading Ruby's Spoon, but I hope not, because the companion to the challenge of this read was the fact that I was bewitched by it. At first I didn't understand thirteen-year-old Ruby's desperation for attention from the mysterious newcomer, Isa Fly. Perhaps I had lost touch of how much I sought the approval and company of older women when I was a child.  (I'm sure that somewhere in my writing I have mentioned a certain dark-skinned woman with a high IQ and a white bikini. From age eight to eighteen I worshiped her, nearly believing that her companionship could turn me into a dark-skinned, bikini clad genius.) So I think the reader can start there, perhaps, by remembering the pure idolatry that a child is capable of. That there might be reasons beyond Ruby's loneliness for her deep desire to connect with Isa makes it all the more fascinating.

Another element here is the aloof behavior of so many people in the town toward Ruby; they fail terribly at the
"it takes a village" idea. I kept wondering why everybody seemed so intolerant and often hostile toward her. Some of the women were deeply cruel to her, but it was the removed behavior of those who could have shown her that they cared that had me shaking my head. Then again, this rings with some authenticity from my own experience as a teenager. When I lost my parents at the age of seventeen, there were many words of sympathy, but actions that might disrupt someone's life (or even inconvenience them) were rare.

Perhaps this place and its people are not so foreign to me after all?

For me, one of the only elements of Ruby's life that I cannot understand is why she had no friends her own age. It is mentioned once or twice, I think, that she used to play with her school chums, but there is no other central character under the age of thirty. I imagine in the life of a small town teenager, a girlfriend would be a vital connection to a girl like Ruby,

There is so much to read out there, and so little time. I am ultimately glad that I picked up Ruby's Spoon and I'd be the first one to buy a ticket if it were made into a film. Hopefully
Anna Lawrence Pietroni will make a bunch of money off of it, thereby relieving my guilt of getting it from the dollar store. And while I'm imagining wonderful events -- let's hope that Vera Farmiga produces the film and takes the part of Isa Fly.

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The Adventures of Robin Wingfield: Ghost by the Side of the Road

7/12/2014

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(That's a working title -- do you like it?)

Sometimes I make plans and fail to follow through.  My mind can spin off in all sorts of different directions, yet I can only follow one path at a time. The closest I have come to multitasking is cleaning the kitchen while singing to Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. A few months ago, I decided to start on the sequel to Dark Corner, but I never got anywhere with that. I was distracted by all kinds of projects, some necessary, others not so much.

Finally, I am ready, inspired by yet another review expressing the hope that the next book will follow soon. I empathize with that, because as I child I wrote a letter to author Holly Beth Walker basically begging her to write another "Meg Duncan Mystery." (The publishing company wrote back to tell me that Holly Beth Walker did not exist, but was a pseudonym for a number of authors. They also informed me that the company had no plans to publish another book. Nice, huh?)

Here is a link to the review from Fresh Fiction by the way: DARK CORNER


So, obviously I'm not giving away any secrets, but I am happy to say I do know where the main plot is heading and
I have a good idea of each character's path. This installment is about Robin's search for her father who went missing when she was little. I'm very pleased with it and I'm looking forward to watching the story grow. Fortunately, that is how it works for me -- once I get the big decisions made (e.g. how exactly will the mystery of the missing dad be solved), then I have the experience of watching it write itself.  I know it's going through my brain and out my arms and through my fingers, but it feels more like channeling a spirit. I guess that's why I have such an interest in channeling (aside from knowing a lady who could do it and reading most of the Seth books). I can't channel spirits, but I do get the idea of having a story flow through me while it feels like I am just a spectator rather than the creator. The weirdest part of that is how often I look back on my writing from just a few days previous and I have no recollection of writing it! Maybe I've got dissociative identity disorder, but whatever it is, it doesn't disturb me. Maybe the dissociation allows me to write without worrying about whether it's "good."  Worrying about quality or reviews is just paralyzing to a writer.

So, no need to procrastinate. Off I go!

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Goodreads Giveaway

2/15/2014

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I got this message from Goodreads:

"This is a reminder that your giveaway has ended. Winners have been notified that they have won, and expect to receive their book within 6-8 weeks.

Dark Corner
1649 people entered.
10 people won."


Six to eight weeks
? Never in my wildest dreams would I sit on these books for six to eight weeks.  They go out on the first available day the post office is open!  (I think that's Tuesday). I can't even begin to explain how grateful I am that 1649 people entered to win a copy of my little creation. Dark Corner may never be New York Times Bestseller, but I feel so humbled and appreciative of any soul who is willing to give it a chance. So... thank you.



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To All People I Know: You are Forbidden to Read My Blog

12/2/2013

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I must admit that my writing is currently deeply influenced by A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki (and a little bit by Jim Gaffigan). If you, whoever you are, (just let it flow, kids; don't worry about the who/whom problem) haven't read it, a good chunk of it is a fictional diary about a suicidal teenager living in Japan.  She writes to one imaginary "you" and wonders what sort of person is reading her diary.  She wonders who would have any interest in the self-absorbed musings of a teenager. 

Well, I for one was very interested. I imagine that she feels guilty about her true desire -- that someone thoughtful and kind might read her diary and care about her.

I guess I'm like her. I have this immature fantasy that someone special will find my blog and realize that I am a unique, amazing, and special person.  That person will have great clout or magical powers, and their interest in my diary will not only validate all the self-absorbed stuff I plan to write about, it will also make me truckloads of money.  Now is my moment to feel guilty for my truly immature and weakly formed character.

Isn't that what the series Twilight is all about?  I admit that I only read the first book but there was one theme in it that I'm certain was the key to its success.  Sexy, other-worldly, unique, amazing man-creature sees the extraordinary, special, beautiful, and unique nature in an ordinary high school girl.  Don't we all feel like that girl? Unless we are celebrities or narcissists, don't we all believe we are undiscovered gems -- and if only a supernatural vampire would come along,
he would see past our glasses, or our plain faces, or our fat, or our flat chests (if we are female), or our average IQs to the deep, unique, spiritual beauties that we really are?

What I personally do not want is for people I actually know to read this blog.  Which of course is beyond my control because I have consciously decided to be transparent and give up nearly all rights to privacy.  I don't want people I know to read my blog, because l
am -- like most people -- an intense, glowing, bubbling volcano of contradictions.  Friends and family should not know about all the opposing forces wandering around in my Id, so unfortunately I will have to censor myself to some extent.  Show some self control.

Here is
comes another fantasy.  My millions of adoring fans and readers have a special password that they can only get by proving that they don't know me or anyone associated with me.  Then, I could write with true abandon.

Either way, I plan to come close.
(Don't you know that commas are out of style)?

I once dated this guy from Northwestern University (not my husband).  His ex-girlfriend
was a dancer from Minneapolis.  He mentioned that he had seen her in a modern dance production and that the performance was "nothing more than masturbation."  Harsh.  I hope he doesn't read my blog.


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