I (currently) have only one 1st-person POV scene. And that’s just not right. So I’ve been considering my options.
So I lean toward #1, but in rewriting the scene it seems to lose something.
With three 4-year-olds from other households present I’ve been feeling touchy about what to do for our read-aloud.
“What about Snow White?” asked one of the girls, holding up the story illustrated by Trina Schart Hyman.
Now, I happen to think this is a very smart book. It allows the girl to be 7 when she’s driven away, but shows her growing old enough to marry by the time the prince finds her. Very clever illustrations. But the story is true to the Grimm original, with the asking for the heart to eat, and dancing to death in hot iron shoes.
I read around those parts in the beginning, and actually haven’t read it for some time now, since Natasha is able to read along with me.
“I think it might be too scary for some of the younger kids,” I said dismissively.
“But it has a good ending!” Melody protested.
Another excerpt from where I’ve been working lately.
This one takes place in the fitting room, where Linnea, the Lindorm‘s Bride-to-be has been fussed over for hours. She, of course, has to wonder if her wedding dress will also be her shroud, until a mysterious old woman comes to her while she (Linnea) is alone.
When the queen and Prince Torbjorn return to the room, the king and Hjalmar (special forces) captains are with them. The captain Tykone is a friend of Linnea’s from childhood and tried to protect her from being offered to the monster. Rickard, the other captain, has reasons to think less of Linnea.
As mentioned before, Sarsé is this kingdom’s female title of respect and/or rank. The prince has just told Linnea to say exactly what she means, despite his mother’s objection.
So many comedies (and couples) are build on the premise that “opposites attract” and all its derivatives.
While that may be useful for awkward comedic situations (and any number of marriages) I tend to agree with Neil Clark Warren:
In his book Finding the Love of Your Life (originally published by Focus on the Family) he asserts that similarities are money in the bank (of marital harmony) while differences are drains on the account.
Basically, the more similarities you have, the less you have to fight about. Warren included in that book a very specific list of 50 areas of “helpful marriage similarities” where, essentially, similarity or agreement would simplify your life together.
In May of 2000, when Jay and I, in our different ways, were considering this marriage thing a possibility, I brought the list on one of our rambling drives and we began to work our way through it.
At this point I knew Jay wanted to get married, but I didn’t know what God wanted, and I didn’t know what I wanted. So having a list was useful to me: something concrete and definable.
Knowing Jay wanted to marry, and knowing he knew me and my reliance on… well, outside confirmation, you could call it, I completely did not trust him.
Not that I believed he would lie– I already knew him to be one of the most deeply honest and open people I’d met– but I didn’t trust that his innate flexibility wouldn’t mold his answers to be more… compatible than fully accurate.
It was a Monday night when we worked our way through the first half of the list, me making him answer first, because I didn’t want my answers to influence him. Before we’d made it through the first dozen I felt life a simpering “yes-man” because I was agreeing with all of his answers.
~ ~ ~
What I learned that night (and the next, before accepting his proposal Wednesday) greatly set my heart as ease.
When I first “noticed” Jay, my mind made a mental list of the dividing line of differences between us (the biggest I can remember at this moment being the type of movies he would see that I wouldn’t– mainly for the violence). It was literally a “deal-maker” to see in list form–to recognize– the amount of significant similarities we shared.
If you want to see the whole list you should pick up the book, but I wanted to share the majors as Warren lists them.
First though, as Warren points out, no one thing breaks a relationship on its own; it is about debts vs. credits.
That being said, there are some similarities that are especially important:
You can see these are all things that could create frustration and discomfort when “nothing” was really wrong in your world. Add in the normal stressors of life (and/or a kid or two) and you’re starting to feel like the ant under a magnifying glass).
When he listed the differences that cause the most problems I found myself nodding like a puppet– Most of us have heard of these being elements in the divorces we’ve been forced to observe:
Warren’s final observation is that flexibility can smooth over a great many differences; and “love covers a multitude of sins.”
To me the neat thing in all this was learning (the first time I read this book– before I even knew Jay, I believe) that there were things I could do before I was married to significantly reduce the amount of conflict in my married life.
For a (largely) non-confrontational type like me, that was great news!
And it has been a great life. I think of my grandparents and marvel that (Lord willing) I still have many times the years we’ve already spent.
Conflict and snappy comebacks are great for books and sitcoms, but in my own nest what I enjoy most is simple peace.
We would do this during NaNoWriMo and it was effective but I never really tried it on my own. But it works.
Sunday afternoon Natasha kept begging me to come play dolls with her, so I set my timer for ten minutes and told her I’d come when it went off.
Knowing I’ve only got a few minutes to cram as much creativity into as possible really worked for me.
And while I’m on the topic of “You already have the truth within you” I’m having to remind myself about the whole “box up your editor” advice. Being in the awkward place of simultaneously creating and editing (yes, I know this is horrible, I don’t currently know an alternative that won’t increase my work later) I’m having to remind myself about letting go of perfect on this new material.
~ ~ ~
It makes me think of a line that horrified my sensibilities when I first heard it:
“Cs get degrees.”
The guy who shared this bit of wisdom with me was pointing out that no one cares that you killed yourself maintaining a 4.0 once you’re holding that piece of paper. At least for the field he was interested in.
It makes me think of conversations I’ve had, or interviews I’ve read, where another writer will boast that he gets it “right” (or so close to right) the first time that revision is virtually unnecessary.
Here I see the finished piece of writing in the role of the degree.
No one cares how few drafts it took to bring the piece to this level of quality. They look– consciously or not– at what it is, not what it is for only x-drafts.
And that (mostly) eliminates my sense of competitiveness.
Sure, being quick helps (especially when you’re blogging and want to get your thoughts down quickly so they quit cluttering your brain while you’re trying to write fiction…) but speed is so far from my primary goal as a growing writer that I don’t want to be tricked into releasing something too soon.
We just finished a survey of doctrines in Sunday School, wrapping up with a couple weeks on Eschatology, the study/doctrine of “end times.”
Wanting to pick my parents’ brains when they came to lunch that afternoon, I began by introducing the context and saying,”there’s two things I don’t understand–”
“You’re doing better than me,” Mom answered.
I’ve made it 18 days into this new year, and not bought a single book (for myself…) but I’m being reminded by a bunch of my blog reading that one of my jobs as a writer is not only to read, but to read the current works in my genre.
My reading list is distinctly skewed to the older— at least, I’ve got books that go back as far as 30 years. And I’m old-fashioned (or is it snobbish?) enough to like it that way.
So I’m redacting my reading page to make it less-obvious I’m limiting myself (if this is my only web-presence, I don’t need to make it that plain– unless they search and find this post ;) ).
And I’m changing my mind about resisting the siren song of the library’s new acquirements (is that a word?). Not sure how I’ll keep up with it, but I’m still determined to alternate writing and reading times: wanting to be sure I balance input and output to keep some perspective on my own work.
If that came out confusing, I’m trying to say that I will use the awesome library I have to pay for anyway to get a hold of the current important books. There. I can work toward my goals and do my duty at the same time.
It wasn’t long after Jay returned from his long trip that he noticed I didn’t have the toilet paper on the holder.
He made a sort of snort, carefully drawing my attention to his assembling the roll in its proper place.
“I don’t know how you get along without me,” he said in his most long-suffering voice.
I touched him before I answered, and didn’t try very hard to keep the catch out of my voice.
“I wonder the same thing every day you are gone.”
I should mention that my determination not to buy books this year does not preclude receiving (or giving) them as gifts.
In the mail today I received my eagerly awaited copy of Stand-In Groom written by Kay Dacus, one of my on-line friends.
Some months ago I (along with her other blog-readers) was offered a chance at a sort of “advance copy” of Kaye’s first published book.
I was told it would arrive in December, and when I didn’t receive it or hear anything at all I imagined I must have been bumped from the list (no hard feelings). During a last minute visit to Barnes and Nobel I even asked after it, and was told it wouldn’t be available until January.
So I was delighted to begin a new book today– especially as I haven’t read any fiction for more than a week.
And especially having just got home from trip that begs more analysis than I’m willing to give it. (I may blog about it eventually, but not today. I’m waiting to first tell my husband the story, and he gets home from another trip tonight.)
I will say it’s a story about God’s goodness and provision.
Life-threatening illness, night-driving through driving snow and wind. Ice, perfect timing, a state trooper’s affirmation and a tow-truck. An earthly father’s attentiveness, and a 6-year-old’s epiphany.
And a small corner of the story is my realization that there are many milestones toward growing up that I had not realized when I was 18. Like being the driver on a road-trip. Though I’d guess most Americans reach that before they have three young children to placate for 400 miles.
I had a busier week than usual and am ready for a rest.
Many thanks Kaye. I am delighted at your success and waving a purple-and-gold pennant for you. ;)
I have, more than once, thought of my novel as my “fourth child.”
I am sorry if that seems irreverent or distasteful to some, and of course I don’t value my writing more than my true children.
The plain truth is I live with the nebulous thing nearly as much as the offspring I can hug, and it’s the best way I’ve yet come up with to categorize it.
But with that parallel in mind– of art being a sort of offspring (and the reverse, also, of children being works of art), I’d love to share this parenthetical comment by Joyce Carol Oates. I see a direct parallel between it and the conversations I sometimes have with other mothers.
A study should really be done of artists’ private systems, that cluster of stratagems, both voluntary and involuntary, that make daily life navigable. Here we would find, I think, a bizarre and ingenious assortment of Great Religions in embryo— a system of checks and balances, rewards, and taboos, fastidious as a work of art. What is your schedule, one writer asks another, never What are the great themes of your books?— for the question is, of course, in code, and really implies Are you perhaps crazier than I– and will you elaborate?