but this blog post by another young lady (total stranger, sadly) was far too good not to share. I know some who stop by this blog (if they haven't given it up as defunct!) aren't on Facebook, which is where I found the post.
http://gracefortheroad.com/2012/02/03/idontwait/
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Random writing
Someday, I might actually write this into a story properly. But for now, it's just a random scene that popped into my head.
Haylan swam slowly out to meet them, his dark eyes flickering from Lotan to Harod.
“Did we scare you so much?” Lotan chuckled. “Did you think we were spirits?”
Haylan reddened. “Of course not.”
“But you were scared,” Harod said. “Because we’re humans?”
“There’s nothing frightening about humans,” Haylan said scornfully. “No, for a moment, I thought instead…”
They waited a moment for him to continue, before Lotan prompted, “Thought what?”
Haylan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought you were water women.”
In chorus, they asked, “Water women?”
“You don’t know what they are?” They shook their heads. Haylan stared at them incredulously, and then turned and swam back to the bank.
“Well, what are they?” Lotan demanded.
Haylan caught at a bush and dragged himself onto the grass. “River demons.” Harod shivered in the water, and splashed to shore. Haylan made room for him on the bank and then continued mysteriously, “They appear as the most beautiful sylphs a man can imagine, with voices sweeter than harps and eyes like the moon on a fair night. And they sing. Whatever it is your heart dreams about, they sing. To a miser, they sing of gold; to a soldier, of fame and glory; to a lonely soul, of everlasting love.”
“Demons indeed,” Lotan grinned. “I’d give a fair price to have a beautiful woman sing to me of my dreams.”
“But they’re demons all the same,” Haylan whispered. “No faery dares approach the river when the water women sing.”
Fascinated, Harod dropped his voice also. “Why not?”
Haylan smiled grimly. “Because they’ll drag you under the waters and eat you.”
Haylan swam slowly out to meet them, his dark eyes flickering from Lotan to Harod.
“Did we scare you so much?” Lotan chuckled. “Did you think we were spirits?”
Haylan reddened. “Of course not.”
“But you were scared,” Harod said. “Because we’re humans?”
“There’s nothing frightening about humans,” Haylan said scornfully. “No, for a moment, I thought instead…”
They waited a moment for him to continue, before Lotan prompted, “Thought what?”
Haylan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought you were water women.”
In chorus, they asked, “Water women?”
“You don’t know what they are?” They shook their heads. Haylan stared at them incredulously, and then turned and swam back to the bank.
“Well, what are they?” Lotan demanded.
Haylan caught at a bush and dragged himself onto the grass. “River demons.” Harod shivered in the water, and splashed to shore. Haylan made room for him on the bank and then continued mysteriously, “They appear as the most beautiful sylphs a man can imagine, with voices sweeter than harps and eyes like the moon on a fair night. And they sing. Whatever it is your heart dreams about, they sing. To a miser, they sing of gold; to a soldier, of fame and glory; to a lonely soul, of everlasting love.”
“Demons indeed,” Lotan grinned. “I’d give a fair price to have a beautiful woman sing to me of my dreams.”
“But they’re demons all the same,” Haylan whispered. “No faery dares approach the river when the water women sing.”
Fascinated, Harod dropped his voice also. “Why not?”
Haylan smiled grimly. “Because they’ll drag you under the waters and eat you.”
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
I've discovered Joseph Conrad.
He's most famous for his work "Heart of Darkness", which was an excellent look at the darkness in the human soul. But he captured me before I read that novella, with his short autobiographical story "Youth". The first two sentences did the trick:
"This could have occurred nowhere but in England, where men and sea interpenetrate, so to speak--the sea entering into the life of most men, and the men knowing something or everything about the sea, in the way of amusement, of travel, or of breadwinning.
We were sitting around a mahogany table that reflected the bottle, the claret-glasses, and our faces as we leaned on our elbows."
Awright, let's have a little fun with words and look at the first sentence. It's a quintessential example of the way they wrote at the turn of the century--a long sentence that at once sets the scene and the time. It's also a masterly opening: "This could have occurred". That raises the prompt question "What?" Conrad doesn't answer the question till the following page, but you don't mind the wait. The scene: the broad, broad ocean and the English sailors upon her. The time: back when the ocean was England's great thoroughfare. Conrad makes reference to steamers as well as sailing ships, so the turn of the century is a safe guess for time. But we don't need an exact year; with Conrad, the general time is enough.
The second sentence is my personal favorite. It's such a well-crafted scene, with such economy of words and such a vivid picture. With that one sentence, we know they must be in a well-to-do setting--mahogany and claret are not for the lower classes! And it's well-kept, for the table is polished brightly enough to serve as a mirror. And that is also why I love this sentence: simply by mentioning the reflection, Conrad tells us what's on the table, what's going on, and who is around the table. He is non-specific as yet, and still clear enough that we understand.
The mention of the claret glasses and the men leaning on their elbows--it must be after dinner, and these men are meeting together to talk, either to discuss business or to visit. Visiting seems more likely, given the casual pose of leaning on the table, and further in the paragraph, we learn we're right. They're visiting with each other, and one man has a particular story to tell of an incident in his youth. But for now, they are meeting. That's all we need to know.
The rest of the story is interesting: a coal barque's trials in attempting to get the cargo to Bangkok, and the disaster that ultimately befalls the ill-fated ship. But those first two sentences--those are genius.
"This could have occurred nowhere but in England, where men and sea interpenetrate, so to speak--the sea entering into the life of most men, and the men knowing something or everything about the sea, in the way of amusement, of travel, or of breadwinning.
We were sitting around a mahogany table that reflected the bottle, the claret-glasses, and our faces as we leaned on our elbows."
Awright, let's have a little fun with words and look at the first sentence. It's a quintessential example of the way they wrote at the turn of the century--a long sentence that at once sets the scene and the time. It's also a masterly opening: "This could have occurred". That raises the prompt question "What?" Conrad doesn't answer the question till the following page, but you don't mind the wait. The scene: the broad, broad ocean and the English sailors upon her. The time: back when the ocean was England's great thoroughfare. Conrad makes reference to steamers as well as sailing ships, so the turn of the century is a safe guess for time. But we don't need an exact year; with Conrad, the general time is enough.
The second sentence is my personal favorite. It's such a well-crafted scene, with such economy of words and such a vivid picture. With that one sentence, we know they must be in a well-to-do setting--mahogany and claret are not for the lower classes! And it's well-kept, for the table is polished brightly enough to serve as a mirror. And that is also why I love this sentence: simply by mentioning the reflection, Conrad tells us what's on the table, what's going on, and who is around the table. He is non-specific as yet, and still clear enough that we understand.
The mention of the claret glasses and the men leaning on their elbows--it must be after dinner, and these men are meeting together to talk, either to discuss business or to visit. Visiting seems more likely, given the casual pose of leaning on the table, and further in the paragraph, we learn we're right. They're visiting with each other, and one man has a particular story to tell of an incident in his youth. But for now, they are meeting. That's all we need to know.
The rest of the story is interesting: a coal barque's trials in attempting to get the cargo to Bangkok, and the disaster that ultimately befalls the ill-fated ship. But those first two sentences--those are genius.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
A metaphor
I stood on the bank of a river,
stuck in a toe and felt
invigorated, refreshed, yet chilled to the bone.
And looking over the waves, I perceived
swimmers in the torrent.
Some struggled, nearly sinking,
others floated, eyes glowing,
buoyed up by the icy flow.
I had thought I could swim;
now, I do not know.
But I long, I long
to the core of my soul,
to join those who float,
to float to the sea,
and see what becomes of me.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
I have come up with a magic formula:
ADDS--Action, Dialogue, Description equal Story.
Well, I say come up with; I should say recognized. All the stories I like most have something happening in them, to people who must talk to each other, in a land that is described. It's a ridiculously basic formula, but I like it.
Friday, March 2, 2012
I tried another bit of blank verse today.
It was more stream-of-consciousness than my poetry usually is, so I think it's bad. I don't know. I should leave blank verse alone.
I keep daydreaming about going to Ireland. I've worked out some of the logistics, but I really need to bounce the idea off my boss before I start making any concrete plans. My sister has made plans based on my idea. Not just concrete plans, I swear she's building a house. I really should work out these plans.
I spent yesterday feeling like playing hooky. This resulted in skipping my improving book at lunchtime in favor of finishing a poem and writing a synopsis for an ongoing idea. Then it resulted in staying up until one o'clock in the morning, eating kettle corn and watching TV shows on Hulu. But my Facebook friends told me there's nothing wrong with nutty stuff like that, as long as I enjoyed it. Apparently, kettle corn is a popular thing.
I am so stuck on the Bard story, it isn't even funny. But, since the dear sweet kids in Sunday school are curious, I promised I'd read them the original draft. I figure, hey, eight-year-olds aren't going to notice bad writing. We'll see how far that idea takes me.
I listened to Mumford and Sons earlier today. Now I have one of their songs stuck in my head. But since I play it more as background music than as sing-along music, I have no idea of which song it was. Ah well, it makes nice mental background music too.
I'm also working through Antony and Cleopatra for the second time. For some reason, the first time I read it I thought of it as comical. I have no idea why. Because it isn't. She's concerned about his faithfulness, since he left his wife for her and then remarried for political reasons when his first wife died. He's torn between his love for her, his duty to Rome, and his growing uneasiness about Caesar Octavius. Octavius would really like it if Antony would settle down and help crush Pompey's rebellion. And that's just Acts One and Two, folks. Good old Shakespeare, packing a million events into a tiny booklet. I still want to see this play performed. I should get Julius Caesar, too, and finish watching that.
This is the sort of random trivia that I subject my dear father to on my way to work. Since he's not home and I'm bored, I am now inflicting the random trivia on the internet. Shazam.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
My mother is a brilliant woman.
She's brilliant in many, many ways (her spiritual walk and her cooking both spring immediately to mind), but what I'm thinking of today is her clever take on literary education.
Step one: she got her children addicted to reading. By addicted, I mean we are those curious, anti-social creatures that read at all meals (except mandatory family meals), read at the beach, the putt-putt golf course (actually not recommended if you want to be somewhere above last), and, on house-cleaning days, read in the bathroom.
Step two: she removed all books that were not classic literature. (Should've put this sooner: warning, this post may contain exaggerations.) This forced us to rely on books such as The Chronicles of Narnia, the Lord of the Rings, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and history books for entertainment.
Step three: she turned us loose at the library. Having had our reading tastes shaped by her clever ways, we immediately headed for the classics. Some of us discovered classics like Shakespeare.
The end result of our literary education is that not all of us know how to connect to our peers.
Me: Hi! Read any good books lately?
Other Teen: Yeah, I just discovered the Twilight series. Ever read those?
Me: No...
Other Teen: Well, what do you like to read?
Me: Ooh, I just read a great Shakespeare play! Ever read Julius Caesar?
Ah well, at least I can quote the Bard with reasonable accuracy.
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