Putting on my Digger Hat

I have become the founding editor of Moleperson Magazine.

We launched this evening and my heart won't let my breath back out - I'm so excited/terrified/slightlyproud!

If you are a fiction writer, an artist who likes drawing/photographing molepeople, or an indie musician (David will be monitoring music submissions) with a love for the weird, I refer you to Moleperson Magazine.

To celebrate, a good song by Last Dinosaurs.

This Song's Trapped in My Head, Kumbaya!

Strangely, there are songs that get stuck in my head only when I'm at work. There's nothing I can find that initiates these repetative concerts. (Except for one of the songs; there's a circus game in the arcade. When it comes on, everybody ends up humming along.)

I've embedded the videoes so they can get stuck in your head, too! Aren't I nice?

These songs include:

Kumbaya

Drunken Sailor

Theme from the Odd Couple, which I've never seen, but they sang in Friends

Of Heroes and Archetypal Design - Using the Hero's Journey to Structure my Novel

The Hero Myth, exposed by mythographer Joseph Campbell, is a spine for the body of fiction. I won't repeat what countless helpful websites already have, but I will summarize:

Every protagonist traverses the archetypal "Hero's Journey." He possesses a need or desire, is incited by a crisis, and accepts the quest to succeed and earn his boon.

Using the steps of the Hero's Journey, I will map out the plot of my novel.

I won't show you this process because I'm still at the Call to Adventure in my quest to complete this novel and I don't want the Temptress to seduce you into pilfering it.

However, I'd like to demonstrate the usefulness of this mapping by naming my characters and the roles they play in this journey.

Hero: Meg Thirske...

a young woman who is happy for the first time. She has lived with depression all her life and knows herself only in the confines of being sad. Now she must acquire the skills to cope with having a happy life, all the while, sad events threaten to cause a relapse into depression

Magical Weapon/Tool: Telescope...

a scarecrow Meg constructs who is given a consciousness (unbeknown to Meg.) She is the narrator and interpreter of Meg's situation. *I can't tell you the end, which explains how she is a tool to Meg. Sorry.* Let's just say that her storytelling eventually gives Meg the perspective she needs to achieve her Apotheosis.

Temptress: Convenience of Known Coping Skills...

The Temptress is not a human (or scarecrow) character in my novel. Not that this is untrue of most modern stories. Meg knows how to be sad and survive; but, her glory will come when she can be brave and live a healthy life.

Mentor: Levi Wells...

Levi is Meg's true love. In learning to have a relationship with him, Meg 1) discovers who she is 2) learns not to "collapse" in old ways but to improve herself, and 3) finds the encouragement she requires to press on in her quest.

Fool/Trickster: Epiphany Bohling....

a classmate of Meg's whose outlandish beliefs test the reality of the other character's lives, in often funny ways. Epiphany also has her own hero's journey, as does Levi and Urriah; however, theirs are subplots while Meg's in the main plot.

Nemesis/Father: Urriah Graham....

a young woman, Meg's best friend, with just as many emotional problems. Okay, Urriah is not the typical nemesis. 1) She is not necessarily against Meg or her efforts, and 2) she is a very sweet and misguided girl who is beginning to rebel against her own beliefs. However, she embodies the guilt that discourages Meg and confuses her efforts to succeed.

This is the notion some Christians have about depression. That people who are depressed are "selfish," they don't have a "legitimate medical illness" and "should get over themselves." These statements, spoken by Meg's pastor and Urriah's father, compound Meg's shame and pulls her back toward depression.

Magnetic Valentine's Poem

Close to my house there is a used bookstore called The Book Nook. Its children's section had a set of magnetic words on a metal file cabinet. David and I walked over to the mall to play with the words all the time; it was one of our favorite dates. But, unfortunately, The Book Nook recently relocated to another space in the mall and with its renovation, the magnetic words were somehow taken away.
But! Happy ending! David bought me a Magnetic Poetry set (along with the expansion pack: Happiness) for Valentine's Day!

His clue was "something we used to do all the time but can't anymore." Isn't that cute? <3

So, to repay him for one of my favorite gifts ever, I've "written" this belated Valentine's poem.
(Punctuation added, of course.)

Let the petals of peaches dress your head
Together beneath the summer blue sky
the sun's wax smelling sweet,
we fiddle with tiny pictures of happiness.
My friend, love, ache & giggle!
The rust of sunshine full on you
brings me mad!
In light's pink gown I am not as warm
as in your arms.

It was a bit messier on the board. I had to stack an "an" on "warmth" and an "s" on top of that.

When There is Nothing to Hear

Soundtrack by Seabear.

You've seen (and I hope listened to) the soundtracks I've linked for nearly every post. It looks like that thing above, the blue underlined word Soundtrack.

Why must we always have something playing, speaking, thinking? Why do we feel wrong when there's not anything to hear?

My Sunday School teacher asked us this on an off-topic tangent and I didn't get to answer. Luckily, I have a blog. :P Here's my belief.

It's because we're afriad of non-existence.

Music is powerful. It brings out joy, suffering, and worship. We see this through the excellent music of Christian musicians, such as Alanna Story and Audrey Assad.

Expressing ourselves - words - thinking - it all proves we exist. By keeping our minds stocked with sounds, images, and talking, we feel like we won't be lost.

Imagine nothingness. Imagine silence. The majority of people, when asked to react to these states, reply that they would add something, anything, to comfort themselves.

We fear the end of our consciousness, our existence. When faced with infinity, we can't bear it. It makes us nausous. Because we know that we have no power in the void.

But our God lives in infinity.

And our intimacy with Him can begin there. Closing out all else, we find ourselves on a ledge over an extensive depth. We shudder. We fear.

In this moment, God can teach us to have peace by trusting in Him. We can know we are safe because we know He exists and His existence is not erasable in infinity like ours is.

When there is nothing to hear, He will come to speak. This is called meditation. Do not try so desperately to fill your head with noise, thinking it is the only proof you are safe.

Being still and knowing He is God is difficult. Usually, I end up chanting "quiet, quiet, quiet" in my head for five minutes, ineffectively. However, it is a crucial ability to obtain. Practice.

In secret, in the quiet place, in the stillness, You are there.

Welcome to Pallet Town!

Descriptions, whether metaphors or adjectives, must be impetuous, tenacious, and memorable - they must poke the reader in the eye, causing him to be more alert to your words. If your book or story were the mob, they would be your made men. They get attention, according to your orders.

You have your adjectives, your metaphors, your similes.

Give them enough bullets to accomplish the job. A full barrel, minus one, so they can't take you out and ruin the operation.

We'll start with one of our basic sets of descriptive words: colors. Try enhancing your writer's pallet.

I've included my experimentation as examples.

Yellow

The house was a yellow houses shouldn't be.

The house was the yellow that Hummers should be but houses should not.

Orange

He handed me an orange cup.

He handed me a tangerine cup.

Red

She painted her toes red.

She painted her toes like a clown's nose.

Purple

I can't wear a dress that ugly shade of purple!

I can't wear a dress the same color as old lady lips!

Blue

When her eyes were closed she was happy; in dark blue, she let her veins swirl.

When her eyes were closed she was happy; in the same blue as water on blacktop, she let her veins swirl.

Green

The grass is so green and beautiful.

The grass, wearing the same color fashion avoids, is yet so beautiful.

Brown

His hair was brown.

His hair reminded her of bitten M&M's.

Ivory

Her skin was ivory.

Her skin was ivory like a roll of Scotch tape.

Pink

He saw the pink rose and knew it was for her.

He saw a rose, pink like little girls' dreams, and knew it was for her.

Puzzles aren't Just for Mall Walkers

(A while ago, in my hometown, an elderly man was featured in the paper because of his faithful puzzle breaks in the Book Nook while mall walking.)

When I get sick, like I was this past week, I find my mind turning from the artful and creative and getting stuck on games. Spider solitaire, mahjong, etc.

This time, it was jigsaw puzzles.

Not cardboard ones. Those are too much trouble. No; my mom introduced me to JigZone.com.

It's a nice website. I've been doing dozens of 48-classic piece puzzles and drinking my bottles of purified water. Woo-hoo for youth!

Music to piece-together to.

((The Sound of a Tongue Indicating Death))

I haven't had many battles with that wire-snipping fiend, writer's block. Not that I'm always as prolific with my writing that I wish to be. Ideas are well-stocked up there and I've been too busy to run into writer's block very often.

However, I am not without adversary.

This past week I've had a very bad cold. I didn't write anything. I didn't want to, either.

Sickness is a writer's worst enemy. When the body is drained, it becomes a limp noodle and the balloon of creativity tied on the other end is kaput. All week my creativity has been croaking.

Had I written, it would have doubtlessly come out with all the pride of sputtering tongue.

That's not all. Now that my body is upright and I went to work, my brain is still deflated. I have to pump more life into it. Exercise time!

I have no instant cures for writers suffering colds. All I have is some instant oatmeal. Maybe some brown sugar.

However, for recovering writers, I can tell you: read. Reading will help you build back up

Also, list making and some writing exercises like the one below:

Choose a news headline. Without reading the article, write a story that explains the headline.