Yesterday my line partner and I were standing around in the back, and I was making soup (making soup is my actual job. Soups and alfredos) and the music is thumping loud enough to wake the dead. Not that I have anything against Metallica, but at eight in the morning--yeah, it's a little much.
So my line partner says, "Do you think they'll change the station, Yodi?" And I said, knowing the asst boss loves Emma for being a model employee--fast and complacent--"Emma, he'll do anything if you ask."
So she smiles at him as he comes around the corner, being all feminine and helpless, doing the eyelash-thing and asks him to change the station. And he blinks. Probably because the music is so loud it's hard to hear. So I yell, "She wants you to change the station to easy-listening, because the music is giving her a headache."
Of course, he gives me that suspicious look like he thinks I'm instigating, which I'm not because it's eight am in the morning and after two hours of sleep I'm not really in the mood. And he says, "Of course, Emma. I know just the station." And turns on the Christmas station. Emma is thrilled. Even though he thought he was being an ass, I love Christmas music. Even "Seattle" Christmas music, which involves a lot of Frank Sinatra and coffee-parodies.
An hour later, he rushes back around the corner. "Something happened to the station!"
Ave Maria is playing and this guy can't deal with it. "What is this weird mumbo-jumbo b-sht?" he yells. (From a guy who once asked if I was a Christian.)
It's my favorite song so I try to explain, but he's having none of it.
He wants his Rudolf and all this creepy latin stuff freaks him out.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Almost Christmas
All right--not really, but considering it's two paychecks away. It's a lot closer than I like. I'm thinking about a tree, and thinking is probably as far as I'll go. Last year my youngest son bought a huge tree--the biggest we've ever had. The Christmas ornaments looked like a penny's worth of caviar on a blini. I went out, bought more, and it was still sparse.
This year he says, "Is it time for the cheap tree?" And after I finished kicking myself for not buying a fancy pre-lit clearance tree last year, I said, "yes, it is. And don't forget to cut the end off, so the tree can absorb water."
Last year he forgot, and that thing was so dry I was afraid to turn the lights on. When we finally threw it away, all the needles fell off, and I was still sweeping needles off the front porch in March.
The guy across the street from me has his holiday lights up. He put them up the day after Halloween. It makes me miss my old neighborhood. Across the street, where I could see it from the window of my bedroom, there was a single decoration. Bright neon red like a beer sign.
"Believe"
This year he says, "Is it time for the cheap tree?" And after I finished kicking myself for not buying a fancy pre-lit clearance tree last year, I said, "yes, it is. And don't forget to cut the end off, so the tree can absorb water."
Last year he forgot, and that thing was so dry I was afraid to turn the lights on. When we finally threw it away, all the needles fell off, and I was still sweeping needles off the front porch in March.
The guy across the street from me has his holiday lights up. He put them up the day after Halloween. It makes me miss my old neighborhood. Across the street, where I could see it from the window of my bedroom, there was a single decoration. Bright neon red like a beer sign.
"Believe"
Thursday, November 26, 2009
No angst--promise...
Thanks for bearing with me. Sometimes I think I should be one of my own characters. No wonder everyone I write seems to have issues. Thank you Jax, for going out of your way to cheer me up and thank you Jeanna for being a peachy kind of person, even when you think you're a lemon. And you, Cowboy. Thanks for calling me so I can bang my head on the wall and whine, lol.
I tell people all the time to have a little patience because sooner or later bad stuff goes away. The days before Thanksgiving are particularly bad for me. January will be bad, but that's still a little ways off.
I'm almost finished with that blog post I'm doing for the FF&P. Little do they know they're getting Jodi's take on chaos theory. And for that, I blame Kimberly. A while back she asked me to explain vector theory in writing and I sat there for days, looking at the book I was currently reading, trying to figure out how to explain it.
People seem to think using big words makes them sound intelligent, one of the reasons I've always like Dunne. Big ideas, little words.
This book was nothing but big words, arranged like the writer had taken some kind of overly OCD version of college composition for tech-manuals. But as I was going through it, I realized parts of it sounded like another book I'd recently bought. Narrative and Discourse, by Seymour Chatman, which in turn was the basis for some really obscure screenwriting stuff I'd read. (I find a lot of research books by reading footnotes.)
Back in the seventies, Chatman did some totally amazing work on character and organic structure, although he didn't call it that. Being an ivory-tower type, he labeled it a variation on discourse analysis. Looking back on it from an outside perspective I only see traces of his work in the craft field, mostly in screenwriting.
Rhetoric seems to have two entirely separate sides. One is that normal college "make things difficult so people think they're learning", but it's really just recycled theories and rote learning, and the other is like craft analysis for the sheer joy of craft analysis, finding out "why" and "how".
After I realized vector theory was simply a rewrite of Chatman's kernel theory with a math angle, and not just a rewrite, but THREE HUNDRED pages of repetition, I spent some time at work (I have way too much time at work) thinking about how certain algebraic equations reflect the way plot is constructed, vectors and kernels and...came up with chaos theory. Probably the best way to describe the non-linear construction of kernels and satellites without actually de-constructing a story.
I guess what I'm trying to say is it's an overview of exactly how character-driven stories work, not from the inside, like in kernel theory, but like if you had it on a plate and were looking down at it. Craft for the joy of knowing.
I tell people all the time to have a little patience because sooner or later bad stuff goes away. The days before Thanksgiving are particularly bad for me. January will be bad, but that's still a little ways off.
I'm almost finished with that blog post I'm doing for the FF&P. Little do they know they're getting Jodi's take on chaos theory. And for that, I blame Kimberly. A while back she asked me to explain vector theory in writing and I sat there for days, looking at the book I was currently reading, trying to figure out how to explain it.
People seem to think using big words makes them sound intelligent, one of the reasons I've always like Dunne. Big ideas, little words.
This book was nothing but big words, arranged like the writer had taken some kind of overly OCD version of college composition for tech-manuals. But as I was going through it, I realized parts of it sounded like another book I'd recently bought. Narrative and Discourse, by Seymour Chatman, which in turn was the basis for some really obscure screenwriting stuff I'd read. (I find a lot of research books by reading footnotes.)
Back in the seventies, Chatman did some totally amazing work on character and organic structure, although he didn't call it that. Being an ivory-tower type, he labeled it a variation on discourse analysis. Looking back on it from an outside perspective I only see traces of his work in the craft field, mostly in screenwriting.
Rhetoric seems to have two entirely separate sides. One is that normal college "make things difficult so people think they're learning", but it's really just recycled theories and rote learning, and the other is like craft analysis for the sheer joy of craft analysis, finding out "why" and "how".
After I realized vector theory was simply a rewrite of Chatman's kernel theory with a math angle, and not just a rewrite, but THREE HUNDRED pages of repetition, I spent some time at work (I have way too much time at work) thinking about how certain algebraic equations reflect the way plot is constructed, vectors and kernels and...came up with chaos theory. Probably the best way to describe the non-linear construction of kernels and satellites without actually de-constructing a story.
I guess what I'm trying to say is it's an overview of exactly how character-driven stories work, not from the inside, like in kernel theory, but like if you had it on a plate and were looking down at it. Craft for the joy of knowing.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Thursday already
Okay, it's actually one minute past midnight. But it's "technically" Thursday. I spent a couple of really good days doing A/P work for my boss (he's trying to help and I need the hands-on) and started in on my Christmas cookies.
I know it's early, but I spent years selling gingerbread for presents and I don't think my kids can get through the holidays without sugar unicorns and gingerbread trees. Just the sight of the unicorn cutter makes me nauseous. One batch makes 36 cookies, unless you make unicorns@48 to a batch. And no one ever ordered "just" one.
I once did 500 unicorns (with gold horns, white tails, and blue eyes) in exchange for a new-in-the-box Barbie mansion, complete with working elevator and rooftop spa. When she was small, my kid owned every Barbie, Skipper and variation known to mankind, including the modeling stage with the pretend-they're-walking conveyor belt and integrated sound system. Now that she's older, it's all about game-systems.
So far, so good. It keeps her mind off cars.
I know it's early, but I spent years selling gingerbread for presents and I don't think my kids can get through the holidays without sugar unicorns and gingerbread trees. Just the sight of the unicorn cutter makes me nauseous. One batch makes 36 cookies, unless you make unicorns@48 to a batch. And no one ever ordered "just" one.
I once did 500 unicorns (with gold horns, white tails, and blue eyes) in exchange for a new-in-the-box Barbie mansion, complete with working elevator and rooftop spa. When she was small, my kid owned every Barbie, Skipper and variation known to mankind, including the modeling stage with the pretend-they're-walking conveyor belt and integrated sound system. Now that she's older, it's all about game-systems.
So far, so good. It keeps her mind off cars.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Not a lot of words
...but I didn't want to leave the last post sitting around. Right after I posted it, I went to bed. Then I woke up and said, "Omg." Checking it out was like opening the lid on a box of snakes. I felt physically sick afterwards--and went to bed.
Probably a theme there.
I'm not sure if it's the time of year, or letting out some of the pressure makes me queasy. I'm leaning toward the last one.
I spent a lot of time praying and saying thanks for my blessings, of which I have quite a few, regardless. Later, I bought a bag of dark chocolate pomegranate candies from Costco because the sample lady suckered me into it. I sat there eating until I felt a little tight. Not the healthiest habit, but people get cravings for a reason, and I think I needed the chocolate.
I feel better.
Probably a theme there.
I'm not sure if it's the time of year, or letting out some of the pressure makes me queasy. I'm leaning toward the last one.
I spent a lot of time praying and saying thanks for my blessings, of which I have quite a few, regardless. Later, I bought a bag of dark chocolate pomegranate candies from Costco because the sample lady suckered me into it. I sat there eating until I felt a little tight. Not the healthiest habit, but people get cravings for a reason, and I think I needed the chocolate.
I feel better.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Angst and darkness, but mostly angst...
I've gone back to listening to lectures at work. For awhile I'd stopped. I think it's something I do when the noise in my head gets too intense to listen to for more than an hour at a time.
Last Christmas wasn't fun. I simply couldn't get into it. I didn't want a tree or presents, I didn't bake Christmas cookies. I didn't want any summer sausage or peppermint meltaways. I ended up buying a box of dark chocolate covered cherries and crying into the box. I know they're stupid one dollar candies from Wal-mart, but out of all the candies that come around at Christmas, they're my favorite. I used to buy them three or four boxes at a time, and when we were mad at each other, my husband and I would leave boxes of them out as peace offerings. There were usually stacks of these goofy boxes all over the house and in the freezer. We didn't always get along, but we were always trying to make-up.
Jack passed away a little under two years ago, right before our 28th anniversary, and it's taken me this long to say it. I don't like this time of year and I can't stand chocolate-covered cherries. I broke out in full body hives from head to toe on the anniversary of his death and carry Benadryl around like a life preserver.
I thought I'd worked through the grief spasms, but they're back. When I started working again, I had to come clean. I'd be working or thinking, and a song would come on the radio, or someone would say something and I'd start to cry.
People have started eying me again, like I'm going crazy, and one or two brave souls have tried telling me I should be over it. Like Jack was a dog that ran away, or a shoe I lost while hiking. He wasn't the nicest person, and he had serious issues, but whenever we went out together, even if it was to the grocery store--we'd hold hands. And I miss him.
Last Christmas wasn't fun. I simply couldn't get into it. I didn't want a tree or presents, I didn't bake Christmas cookies. I didn't want any summer sausage or peppermint meltaways. I ended up buying a box of dark chocolate covered cherries and crying into the box. I know they're stupid one dollar candies from Wal-mart, but out of all the candies that come around at Christmas, they're my favorite. I used to buy them three or four boxes at a time, and when we were mad at each other, my husband and I would leave boxes of them out as peace offerings. There were usually stacks of these goofy boxes all over the house and in the freezer. We didn't always get along, but we were always trying to make-up.
Jack passed away a little under two years ago, right before our 28th anniversary, and it's taken me this long to say it. I don't like this time of year and I can't stand chocolate-covered cherries. I broke out in full body hives from head to toe on the anniversary of his death and carry Benadryl around like a life preserver.
I thought I'd worked through the grief spasms, but they're back. When I started working again, I had to come clean. I'd be working or thinking, and a song would come on the radio, or someone would say something and I'd start to cry.
People have started eying me again, like I'm going crazy, and one or two brave souls have tried telling me I should be over it. Like Jack was a dog that ran away, or a shoe I lost while hiking. He wasn't the nicest person, and he had serious issues, but whenever we went out together, even if it was to the grocery store--we'd hold hands. And I miss him.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Much calmer
Thank God for friends, and driving around in my car talking to myself--although I'm not sure if I'm supposed to admit that. I ate chocolate, drank lots of soda, did a little writing and listened to a fabulous RWA lecture by Christie Craig and Faye Hughes.
I'm a lecture-geek. I know most people don't come across well, but unless you have chemistry, don't lecture with a partner. Unless you have a strong personality, don't do a panel.
Most of all--unless you believe in something with your whole heart and soul, don't try to be "inspirational". Out of hundreds of lectures, I've only heard "three" inspirational lectures. Sharon Sala's "Writing is an Addiction", which I totally fan-girled over in DC because I was fortunate enough to be her moderator.
Sharon Sala is a wonderful, gracious lady and I've been reading her books since she was writing Silhouette IMs. The fact that she totally inspires me every time I listen to her "Addiction" lecture is just icing on the cake.
Barbara Keaton's "Write with Passion", which I won't lie about--I didn't listen to until I'd worked my way to the bottom of the 2008's, because I thought it was how to add sex to your single title. Talk about jump up and witness, this woman was on fire. I almost started yelling, "Amen!" (although it would have looked funny at work. It's bad enough I kept smiling. Smiling at something no one else can hear is also bad)
And "Make it Happen", by Christie Craig and Faye Hughes.
Wow.
Just wow.
Christie Craig believes. And for the time I spent listening to her--when I wasn't snuffling madly--I believed, too. I need to put these three particular lectures together for those bad days when I lose faith.
And buy more chocolate. That Dove bag didn't last long.
I'm a lecture-geek. I know most people don't come across well, but unless you have chemistry, don't lecture with a partner. Unless you have a strong personality, don't do a panel.
Most of all--unless you believe in something with your whole heart and soul, don't try to be "inspirational". Out of hundreds of lectures, I've only heard "three" inspirational lectures. Sharon Sala's "Writing is an Addiction", which I totally fan-girled over in DC because I was fortunate enough to be her moderator.
Sharon Sala is a wonderful, gracious lady and I've been reading her books since she was writing Silhouette IMs. The fact that she totally inspires me every time I listen to her "Addiction" lecture is just icing on the cake.
Barbara Keaton's "Write with Passion", which I won't lie about--I didn't listen to until I'd worked my way to the bottom of the 2008's, because I thought it was how to add sex to your single title. Talk about jump up and witness, this woman was on fire. I almost started yelling, "Amen!" (although it would have looked funny at work. It's bad enough I kept smiling. Smiling at something no one else can hear is also bad)
And "Make it Happen", by Christie Craig and Faye Hughes.
Wow.
Just wow.
Christie Craig believes. And for the time I spent listening to her--when I wasn't snuffling madly--I believed, too. I need to put these three particular lectures together for those bad days when I lose faith.
And buy more chocolate. That Dove bag didn't last long.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
I shouldn't have gone
I'm not the nicest person--and I accept it. I'm probably everything my psych profile says and more, but I like to think I'm okay. I took behavioral science this quarter because I thought it would help with developing characters, but it's more like cleaning out the inside of my head and finding out all the ways I'm odd compared to the rest of the population.
My last assignment was to pinpoint areas I thought needed improvement, and to be honest--I think I'm fine. I have issues, but I'm working through them, and I like myself. In gratitude for the scholarship I won recently, I went to the scholarship banquet. Not the smartest move on my part.
I felt like a short sighted idiot in a sea of normal people. I was the only person at my table, the next table and every table I could eavesdrop on who wasn't planning on continuing on to a four year degree. I picked my degree because it was the fastest way from point A to marketable job skills.
I'm in "re-training", not looking for a career. I just want to make enough money to live on, support my kid and have time left over to write and study craft. People ask me if I want to join study groups, come over and do homework together. Hang out after class. Seriously?
I have a life, and it involves doing homework at two am. I don't have time to go to school all day and do homework all night. I'm struggling to maintain my 3.5, and worried it'll be a total waste of time.
The woman next to me was also an accounting major and she told me how she took time off to devote herself to going to school every day, carried her textbooks around with her, how easy everything was, and how she felt she wasn't being challenged. And there I was, struggling to the point I go to flex class even though I'm not enrolled. It's like pulling fingernails with my teeth. It's freappin' hard!!
How can they make it seem so easy? Is it really that simple? I got a serious case of the unworthies from breathing the same air. I haven't felt so torn since high school. Not that this is going to rock my self-esteem, but damn--I'm blowing through this bag of Dove candy like it's a bottomless grab-bag.
My last assignment was to pinpoint areas I thought needed improvement, and to be honest--I think I'm fine. I have issues, but I'm working through them, and I like myself. In gratitude for the scholarship I won recently, I went to the scholarship banquet. Not the smartest move on my part.
I felt like a short sighted idiot in a sea of normal people. I was the only person at my table, the next table and every table I could eavesdrop on who wasn't planning on continuing on to a four year degree. I picked my degree because it was the fastest way from point A to marketable job skills.
I'm in "re-training", not looking for a career. I just want to make enough money to live on, support my kid and have time left over to write and study craft. People ask me if I want to join study groups, come over and do homework together. Hang out after class. Seriously?
I have a life, and it involves doing homework at two am. I don't have time to go to school all day and do homework all night. I'm struggling to maintain my 3.5, and worried it'll be a total waste of time.
The woman next to me was also an accounting major and she told me how she took time off to devote herself to going to school every day, carried her textbooks around with her, how easy everything was, and how she felt she wasn't being challenged. And there I was, struggling to the point I go to flex class even though I'm not enrolled. It's like pulling fingernails with my teeth. It's freappin' hard!!
How can they make it seem so easy? Is it really that simple? I got a serious case of the unworthies from breathing the same air. I haven't felt so torn since high school. Not that this is going to rock my self-esteem, but damn--I'm blowing through this bag of Dove candy like it's a bottomless grab-bag.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Upside Down Transformational Arc
Anyone who knows me, knows I'm not the biggest Maas fan. I admire him for the tidbit I took away from his first craft book, "Writing the Breakout Novel", and I'd been avoiding his RWA lecture, because--I dunno. It seemed like everyone was on the bandwagon, and I don't like crowds.
But I was working my way down the list and finally got to the "special" lectures. I enjoyed the first ten minutes of "The Fire Within". It was a wonderful, pumped up go-get-'em tiger of an intro that made me want to break out a pen. Then it kind of petered out. I think...because it was person-specific and would work better in a book. Not everything translates to lecture-format. Especially if you're listening to it after the fact.
But then he said the one thing that caught my attention. It might have been a "throwaway" line, but it was a nuclear flash for me.
"People usually think of the hero's transformational arc as going up, but sometimes, it goes down", and I stopped.
Wow.
He is so right. And never more so when it comes to certain types of stories. The upside down arc is the anti-hero's arc.
A good way to look at it would be to compare two movies like Good Will Hunting and The Bourne Identity. Both Matt Damon films. Put aside the fact that Jason Bourne is a killer, because that's not the part I'm talking about.
In the first movie--the Bourne Identity, Jason is a disenfranchised amnesiac killer who meets this woman named Marie (and I promised myself I wouldn't talk about the difference between the books and the movies, so I won't, lol) and over the course of the movie, he moves from considering her expendable to trusting her, to finally finding something inside himself willing to take that final step and reach out to her. It's a good example of an upward driving transformational arc.
Jason moves from point A, through positive steps--accepting Marie as a person, starting to trust her, wanting to protect her--to point B, where he's grown into the person he needs to be so they can have a life together.
In Good Will Hunting, Will starts at point A, down a long shallow slope of un-positive, really stupid and outright counter-productive behaviors. He pushes people away, destroys everyone's illusions and messes with people for the hell of it. He can't open up to the girl, and he doesn't want help to pull out of his downward spiral. Watching Will is so horrible it hurts. It's so unrelentingly bad. Down, down down, until he hits rock bottom, and only then, can he start the long crawl back. Transforming as he goes.
It's the same arc, only upside down. A reflection of all the bad things that a person can do to get to point B, instead of all the good things.
In some ways, it's like UNK's stages-of-grief downward arc, but this particular arc works for people with unreformed rakes and demons, uber-alphas with ptsd, disconnected loners and vampire/shifters. Anne Stuart does the downward arc. Probably why I have so many of her books. I love watching the hero get worse before he gets better.
But I was working my way down the list and finally got to the "special" lectures. I enjoyed the first ten minutes of "The Fire Within". It was a wonderful, pumped up go-get-'em tiger of an intro that made me want to break out a pen. Then it kind of petered out. I think...because it was person-specific and would work better in a book. Not everything translates to lecture-format. Especially if you're listening to it after the fact.
But then he said the one thing that caught my attention. It might have been a "throwaway" line, but it was a nuclear flash for me.
"People usually think of the hero's transformational arc as going up, but sometimes, it goes down", and I stopped.
Wow.
He is so right. And never more so when it comes to certain types of stories. The upside down arc is the anti-hero's arc.
A good way to look at it would be to compare two movies like Good Will Hunting and The Bourne Identity. Both Matt Damon films. Put aside the fact that Jason Bourne is a killer, because that's not the part I'm talking about.
In the first movie--the Bourne Identity, Jason is a disenfranchised amnesiac killer who meets this woman named Marie (and I promised myself I wouldn't talk about the difference between the books and the movies, so I won't, lol) and over the course of the movie, he moves from considering her expendable to trusting her, to finally finding something inside himself willing to take that final step and reach out to her. It's a good example of an upward driving transformational arc.
Jason moves from point A, through positive steps--accepting Marie as a person, starting to trust her, wanting to protect her--to point B, where he's grown into the person he needs to be so they can have a life together.
In Good Will Hunting, Will starts at point A, down a long shallow slope of un-positive, really stupid and outright counter-productive behaviors. He pushes people away, destroys everyone's illusions and messes with people for the hell of it. He can't open up to the girl, and he doesn't want help to pull out of his downward spiral. Watching Will is so horrible it hurts. It's so unrelentingly bad. Down, down down, until he hits rock bottom, and only then, can he start the long crawl back. Transforming as he goes.
It's the same arc, only upside down. A reflection of all the bad things that a person can do to get to point B, instead of all the good things.
In some ways, it's like UNK's stages-of-grief downward arc, but this particular arc works for people with unreformed rakes and demons, uber-alphas with ptsd, disconnected loners and vampire/shifters. Anne Stuart does the downward arc. Probably why I have so many of her books. I love watching the hero get worse before he gets better.
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