Author Archives: Amy Jane

Life Summary for 08-08

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I “sat a booth” at my local state fair for five hours today.

Then I collected my children from my mother before meeting some friends who proceeded to keep me company and help corral kids until nearly 10 tonight.

The interesting thing about sitting a booth is that you see people you may not have seen in a long time.  And, of course, you exchange the obligatory How are you? and must make that devilishly challenging choice of how much to say.

Personally I hate “Fine.” as an answer.  Just because it means *nothing* and you might as well not have spoken.

So here’s the line I actually managed to pull off the top of my head for someone who hasn’t seen me since I was wearing my second child (in a sling).

I’m keeping busy (an equally useless alternate for Fine.): three kids under age six, teaching myself guitar and working on a novel. (At this point I get the same twinge as I do when I tell people I’m 29 and add defensively:) I’m almost finished and I’ve had an editor ask me to send it to her when it’s done.

Why I feel this need to justify or explain myself to near strangers who care no more for me than for anyone else in this aimless mass of humanity, I don’t know.

And I forgot to mention at the time I start officially homeschooling my oldest this fall.

But I’ve got another 3 hours in a different booth tomorrow, so I’m sure I’ll get another chance to try and squish it all out.

The Case Against Folding Underwear

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(Yes, another meaningless post.  But at least this one’s short.)

I can find only two reasons to fold something:

  1. To minimize wrinkles, for a better look straight out of the drawer
  2. To make it take up less space

Looking at these criteria I can see no reason to fold underwear:

  1. Most underwear fits well enough that any wrinkles are gone (or nearly so) from the simple act of putting it on.  No one who cares about wrinkles will be seeing those underwear (Or they’d better not be…), even if they were wrinkled.
  2. Underwear is the only article of clothing I have yet noticed that takes up more space folded than otherwise.

That said, I do not begrudge you underwear-folders out there your choice; I just feel sorry for the women whose husbands insist on it for (as far as I can see) no logical reason.

There.  Aren’t you glad you took the time to read this.

Pencil vs. Pen

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Pen wins.  No question.

I’d heard it before and never paid much attention: pencils write slower.

Last night (or early this morning, rather), as I was racing to capture images before they left my dream-memory I was repeatedly frustrated in my attempt to speed up by the simple… physics (I guess you’d call it) of scraping particles onto paper, rather than rolling ink.

My hand is already too slow to keep up with my brain.  I need a pen.

Predicting the Future as a Demonstration of Power

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Writing to process an idea.

From Isaiah 41:22-23,

“Bring in your idols to tell us
what is going to happen.
Tell us what the former things were,
so that we may consider them
and know their final outcome.
Or declare to us the things to come,

tell us what the future holds,
so we may know that you are gods.
Do something, whether good or bad,
so that we will be dismayed and filled with fear.

My pastor’s sermon a while back introduced a new idea to my imagination:

Telling the future doesn’t have to be just some mystical, suspect, power.  It can also be a demonstration of power.

The idea is that anyone can accurately predict the future if they have the power to make that future happen.  Parents do this all the time.

You will go to school.  You will do your homework.  You will not see that movie.

The child’s free-will comes in to play, but the parents’ power frequently directs that will, and/or enforces the ultimate plan despite the child’s choices.

~ ~ ~

I remember an exchange my parents had about God’s omniscience.

“God is never surprised,” says one.  “He knows all things at all times.”

“Then why did God tell Abraham, ‘Now I know‘?” asked the other.

With this different angle of knowing the future, I can reconcile this question for myself.

Those things that God sent his prophets to say, those were God knowing the future, because he was directing it.  The smaller elements of individual free will would not disrupt his plan, and he left that to their choosing…

Something more to think about.  That’s all.

No Knight, Thank you.

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I really wanted there to be a sequel to Batman Begins.

My husband and I both applauded when we heard the news of a #2… and then I saw my first preview.  And I was hugely disappointed.

I knew enough to know I’d probably never see it.

The plugged-in review only cemented this on the violence-level, and the Film-critic review on the stylistic choices.

All of my distaste was perfectly summarized in the comments of someone who actually did see the movie:

Too Dark.  Too long.  Too fast.  Too pretentious.  Too loud.  Too many characters…

I’ve talked before about “story sense” and that’s what I figure I’m relying on now.

~    ~

The whole reason to consume a sequel (on a screen or the page) is that you’ve fallen in love with a character, group of characters and/or their take on the world

e.g. I love how Bones characters always work together, find humor without being depreciating and — almost– always get the bad guy.  I’m always interested in another story (episode) about these people.

You want to return and get a taste of the first thing that attracted you.

If you get more of what you loved the first time around– if it gets even better than the original (remember Toy Story 2?)– it becomes worthy of “instant classic” status.

All that sappy wistfulness to say that everything I loved or wanted more of from Begins— complexity, depth, backstory and more— has been “traded up” for chaos and volume, etc.

Just now I feel the same about the movie same as I do about meaningless song lyrics: I don’t know why I’m surprised, considering the medium and the source.  There’s no reason they *should* make sense.

Other than all the examples of sense and significance I’ve already known.

And I am reminded why I’m disapointed.  I’ve seen so much better that it’s hard to spend my time on this just because it’s *now.*

Unreal

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I’ve been working on this with “no end in sight” since November 2006.

When I shifted my focus to a smaller portion of the story I was able to frame a smaller, more realistic, goal and had some form of hope that finishing a story was possible.

Last night I completed another chapter, and when I printed out my latest “status report” on the story I saw this  “wonder of wonders”:

Chapter 1 The Meeting
Chapter 2 Despoiling
Chapter 3 Old friends and Others
Chapter 4 The next meeting
Chapter 5 The Storyteller
Chapter 6 Unwilling Rescue
Chapter 7 Without Honor
Chapter 8 The Fitting
Chapter 9 Princess Cecillia
Chapter 10 Tykone’s Loss
Chapter 11 The Wedding Night
Chapter 12 Kjell’s discovery
Chapter 13 Dangerous New Family
Chapter 14 The Safety of the Swamp
Chapter 15 Out-law for an In-law
Chapter 16 Rescue in the Swamp
Started
Ready for draft 2

The Chart says I’m almost done.  I can hardly believe it.

And, yes, “done” is a highly subjective term.  Just now I’m excited to have the possibility of having a complete story in writing.

It should go without saying that it will next be subject to revision, research and more revision.  But, wow.  This is closer than I’ve ever been to ending anything.  And I’ve started a bunch.

Disney vs. The Real Stories

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I have never heard anyone with an opinion on the matter take my view when comparing these famous cartoons with the “originals.”

I think they’re just fine.

Many are too intense for young children, and I don’t let my kids see those, but that’s because their source material wasn’t cultivated with pre-schoolers in mind.  And, yes, I know (perhaps better than many), how far some movies deviate from their stories of origin.

But as stories they are perfectly valid.

The things people complain about: the “weak” role models, the watering down of intense or bloody moments (Hi, you want more violence?), or the “changing” of endings or motivations; these are all things that shouldn’t (in themselves) bother you if they aren’t the only tales you’re consuming.

~

Most of my reason for defending the cartoons isn’t because I like them so much, but because they are merely the next retelling in a centuries-long chain.  It has always been the storyteller’s prerogative to take and change and enhance where they find something interesting or perceive a chance to emphasize a message that is important to them.

The difficulty comes when we allow one version to become authoritative.

When my children started treating the Disney Cinderella as “cannon,” I realized I’d neglected their education, and set about rectifying.  My girls now proudly own (as in, are familiar with) six versions:

And this has become useful as we interact with peoples of different belief systems.  We use it as a contrast between the Bible and “other old stories.”  There are (more than!) six different ways to tell “Cinderella,” but there is only one *true* account of Jesus (okay, four, if you want to list Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John), and the Bible is not negotiable.

Stories are good and contain truth, but we can tell them any way we want; we adjust them to suit our preferences.  The Bible is Truth, and we adjust our preferences to fit it, not the other way ’round.

~ ~ ~

Marc made an observation about movie adaptations of books that I think is applicable to fairy tales and other stories as well: “Admittedly ego-centric” as the idea is, we approve or call a variant good if we like it.

That simple.

Many fairy tales (Disneyized or not) are rejected outright by some people because those people dislike a message they perceive.

Some tales come down to a surrender of the will to *other,* and even more emphasize a dependence on the help of *other* that many modern minds wish to reject.  The insufficiency of self is a scary reality that many who scorn “happily ever after” also reject.

The next time you hear a woman castigated as “weak,” evaluate whether it’s because she is actively incompetent or merely subject to the limitations of individuality that the rest of us are.

Can you hear a personal pet-peeve coming out?

I will admit by their very pervasiveness the Disney version of some stories do feel a bit threatening at times, but on that level I don’t feel they’re very much different from Rugrats or Sponge Bob in popular culture:  Yes, it’s frustrating, and I use my influence to shape my children’s perception of them, but so far I can still say I’d rather America’s children have Disney fairy tales then none at all.

For centuries these tales have been basic education about good and evil:

  • That good is beautiful (even if the reverse is not necessarily true)
  • That evil is to be resisted, even when it’s scary, or painful
  • That resistance may have to begin alone, but one is never expected to triumph without some kind of help
  • That help always comes

Especially for those individuals who don’t yet have the truth of the gospel, these “lighter shadows among the shade” have the potential both to help develop a conscience and (at times) to point seekers to the deeper truths the stories hint at.

“Classics” Meme

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From Bluestocking

I must be growing weak. Two memes in one week.

What is the best classic you were “forced” to read in school and why? I can barely remember what books I read in high school.  I enjoyed Bean Trees, though, in my 10th-grade Analysis of Literature class.  Can’t say if it’s generally counted as a “classic” since it was written within the last century.

I couldn’t articulate it then, but thinking on it now I believe my growing writers’ mind was fed by the multiple points of view and complex characters.  At least, I think they were complex.  I was 16, so if I re-read it I might be embarrassed now by how much it impressed me then.

What was the worst classic you were forced to endure and why? Julius Caesar (sorry, Blue).  Another assignment from my Analysis of Lit  class.  This was the honor student’s rite-of-passage: Analysis with Ms. Stitham.

She made us keep a log-book (anybody else know what that is?) which we all abhorred, and as an experiment she offered my class a complete waiving of the JC-unit logs if we were willing (before we took it) to accept our grade on the JC test as our unit grade.

Otherwise we would be graded on the thoroughness of our log entries as usual.  I *hated* writing.  I would have taken the out in a heartbeat if there weren’t all the dire warnings about how *nobody* got higher than a C on the Julius Caesar test.

I hedged my bets.  Then got a B+ on the test.

Mad enough to spit nails, I informed my informants that actually *reading* the text was a wonderful first-step toward doing well.  I think I scraped a C+ out of my logs, and hated every minute of them.  Definitely a negitive association there.

Have to comment on this, Blue (your “worst classic”):

Silas Marner. It was boring. Was there an actual plot? It’s on my shelf of books to re-read. I guess that means I’ll get to it in 5 years. LOL!

I never read this one, but, like most of my classics, I listened to my library’s Recorded Books version.  I was *fascinated.*  Yes, it moved slowly ( I was quilting as I listened, so my life was moving even slower at the time), but I found the commentary on fatherhood intriguing.  I’ve come across much discussion and commentary about motherhood, but less-to-none on fathers, so maybe this struck me by its contrast.

I also hated Frankenstein. Only got through that one thanks to my library and Recorded Books, Inc. Spent the second half of that book trying to decide if the ceramic kitten I was painting looked better as a calico or a Siamese.  Then changing it back again.

My parents wouldn’t let me have a real kitten.

In case anybody cares, I did really well on all my literature tests that weren’t essay-based (my only D was the essay test on Romeo and Juliet in 9th grade).   Apparently my brain absorbs the same amount from the page as from my ear.

Sometimes I think my ears get more, because the rhythm of the line adds sticking power.

I feel a high measure of satisfaction (we Christians aren’t allowed to say pride) to note I got a 98% on my Senior English essay.   So I have the delight of knowing my mind matured during my time in high school.  Sometimes I wondered.

We had the *insanely* floppy option among the essay questions of tying together all of the previous semester’s survey of American literature, from the pilgrims on.  I had the flash (because I’d talked with a classmate mere days before) of using “attitudes toward nature,” and my teacher loved it.

Which classic should every student be required to read and why? I can’t say I think any classic beyond the Bible should be read by *everyone*.  There is so much variance in personal failings and needs that no other book is going to speak to everyone.

Which classic should be put to rest immediately and why? I have several candidates, but the one I’ve read the most of is Whuthering Heights.  Felt the same about this as Bluestocking did about Silas Marner, and  it was creepy/weird enough I didn’t even finish the recorded book.
Bonus: Why do you think certain books become classics?

Classics are well-written books that expose a part of humanity that has (usually) not been addressed before (e.g., Adultery, in The Scarlet Letter).  They should make people think, see reality with new eyes, and (often) new sympathy.

Literature frequently allows us to see into the minds and motivations of others; to understand them more than we sometimes understand the people we live with every day.  And as we observe these others with a wise guide (the author) we imagine we have gained a deeper insight into the real people that surround us.

It is some species of arrogance to assume that imaginary characters could have any reflection in real life, but the piercing accuracy of the author’s depiction of those like us, the reader, cause us to trust their analysis of others.

~

I was 18, that “classic” age of revelation, when I “read” (listened to) both White Fang and Jane Eyre in immediate succession.

I was struck uncomfortably by the mishmash I was of those two title characters;  how accurately the authors showed parts of me I preferred to ignore.

It was convicting and revealing.  I got more out of those two “classics” in two weeks than from all I had read in high school (or even later, in college).  Re-read them more, too.

~

A classic fits a person when it explains a reaction or a missing motivation that (re)connects us with ourselves or the world around us.

We humans were designed for relationship.  Ultimately with God, but not-unimportantly with each other as well.  Literature (or Story of any type) can be a substitute for that, but it can also be a help and a guide.

For me, those books that have spoken to my “gaps,” or affirmed those things most important to me, articulating them better than I’ve yet seen, those count as my classics, and are among the first books I’ll encourage my friends and (someday) my children to read.

They’re Called Calluses

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I was rubbing my thumb over my fingertips as I did some on-line reading (yes, it’s impossible for me to be still) and I was struck for a moment because I couldn’t feel with the tips of my left fingers.

I had to think a moment before realizing, Oh, they’re from all my guitar playing lately.

In the past I’ve only noticed calluses as they’ve (messily) gone away, so it was fun to notice my playing is having some effect.

For almost two weeks now I’ve been playing my guitar every day.  I have no structure to my blips of practice, and so I’m probably advancing slower than I could, but its “clicking” better than ever before and I enjoy practicing like never before.

~

I find it interesting that I dove back into guitar a week after I had storytelling off my plate (and I was thankful to be able to focus on writing as my single “creative” endeavor), but one of the benefits of having nothing set in stone is that I can follow my inclinations and see what happens.

Guitar has been a nice balance to my writing as a physical, musical act to balance the stillness and (relative) silence of the novel.  It’s also been nice to take into the room where the kids play or pack to the park so I can get some time while still being available to my children.

Have I said lately how much I love my job?

Tell me anything else I could be doing that marries so perfectly my responsibilities and my inclinations.