Ladders and Original Fantasy

I fell down a ladder today.   Rather, I slid, holding on tightly and forcing my feet to keep contact with the steps as they bumped their way down step by step.    I landed on my feet, with only minor scrapes on my arm.

I have once again managed to survive the plight of my own clumsiness, receiving only minor injuries and a short rebuke from the stage manager, who forbade me to ever hurry down the ladder in a not-so-safe fashion again.

Like so many of my recent injuries, it could have been much worse.   My arm stings, but it didn’t even bleed.

I blame my lack of coordination (for today, at least) on the fact that I stayed up til 5:30 AM reading the 2nd book in the Twilight saga.    I’m surprised I made it through the day conscious on just 2 hours of sleep, so minor ladder injuries are really not such a big deal.

Now I want to get the third book, and even though I have things I need to be doing, I feel the compulsion pressing in the back of my mind to finish the story, to obtain resolution — even though I suspect that, like so many book series, even the last book will leave me with a lingering lack of closure.

This is why I love and hate reading book series… I love the thrill and the immersion of it, knowing that the story doesn’t end with just one book, but that I have more to anticipate and enjoy.   But at the same time, it’s a bit annoying, knowing that I will feel compelled to continue reading them one after the other until they’ve all been read, and then I’ll slowly ease out of my fiction-stupor as the withdrawal symptoms subside.

I know how it feels to read a great fantasy series, one that captures the mind and imagination, but what does it take to write one?   I’ve been wanting to write a fiction series for quite some time now, and have actually been working on one for several years, but I worry that it will be unoriginal.

Have all the good plotlines been taken?  Have all the captivating characters already been created, and all the immersive fantasies been used up already?     How can I follow the likes of Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, or even Twilight, without seeming like just another imitation, a pathetic attempt at an already flooded fantasy genre?

What does it take to write original fantasy?  Does it require new rules — like breaking the traditional guidelines for vampires?   Does it require new creatures, beings unlike the dwarves, dragons, vampires, werewolves, and wizards so widely used in fantasy?   Or does it just take a unique plot, one that breaks the usual “hero with unknown origin or ability discovers his own strength when faced with a dangerous but vital quest”?    Then again, how can you escape the fact that all fantasy stories must use at least some of these familiar elements in order to fulfill expectations for fantasy?      Or must they?

“There’s nothing new under the sun…” but is there a way to use the familiar elements and still be truly original?

Chaos

I’ve realized that I enjoy chaos, but only if I’m not the one responsible for controlling it.

I work a live animal show, so it is common for things to go wrong — birds fly off, animals don’t do behaviors as they’re expected to, etc.   Sometimes, the people are the cause of the chaos, like forgetting to set up a prop or missing a cue.  One moment everything is going along perfectly, and the next we’re all running around backstage like madmen trying to get to our spots to compensate for whatever went wrong.

I relish in those moments of chaos.  It’s exciting and fun, a break in the routine that disturbs the monotony and adds some interest to the daily rhythm of the job.   We all understand that things happen, so it’s no big deal… just something to laugh about and a funny story to tell my friends.

When I’m responsible for controlling things, however, I don’t like chaos at all.    I spent a brief period working at an elementary school, and I remember the feeling of panic that writhed within me as I attempted to calm and control a classroom of disorderly 8-year-olds.   I was responsible for maintaining order, so in that case the chaos meant failure for me, guilt and a sense of fear at the question: “What if I can’t regain control?”

Chaos is so much easier to take when I’m not the one in control.  Then, I can sit back and enjoy the humor of it without fear of repercussion.    I think attempt to maintain control is a leading cause of stress in many people’s lives.   If they could just learn to let go, and to accept that in life, things happen that we can’t control, they might be able to relax a bit.   Maybe they could even learn to relish the chaos.

Massage Message

Today, I got a free massage at work from a professional masseuse!  It was wonderful, and helped to relieve some of the tension in my shoulders and neck.

However, I had a moment when I saw the sign-up sheet (“Massage Sign-Up”) where I wondered if I had read it correctly.  Massages at work?  Or did it say messages?

This brings up a common complaint with the English language — why are so many of our words so similar?

We’ve got messages and massages, pubic and public — I’ve seen that typo more than once! — and the worst, the words that are actually spelled exactly the same, but mean different things or are pronounced differently based on the context, like “live” and “read” and “lead”.

And yet — here’s the amazing part — even a small child can learn and properly use the different forms of words without much effort.   Of course, we all get confused now and again, but in general most people have a functional understanding of the different usages of each word, proper contexts, correct pronunciations, etc., by a very young age.

When I think about this, I am astonished at the human ability for language.  Not only can our memory contain an endless number of grammatical rules (and exceptions to them!), but we also have the ability to communicate complex, abstract ideas with little complication.   I mean, really, how do you explain the feeling of “anger” or “sadness,” or even “love” to a child just beginning to learn language… and yet we all know exactly what those words mean, when to use them, how to use them, and even how to be more precise with specifying degrees of each feeling, such as “furious,” “irate,” or “frustrated” instead of just “angry.”

We are linguistic beings, obviously, with brains not only capable of, but proficient in, the use of symbolic sounds to capture and communicate our ideas.

I’m not sure why this is so impressive to me, except perhaps that as a writer, I am fascinated by the power of language to impact the human heart and mind, and our ability as individuals to use that language to communicate such complex and abstract concepts.

What does writing mean to you?

For me, writing has always been a form of expression, an outlet for feelings of sadness, or excitement, or anxiety, or anger.  Even when I was young, I used writing as a type of therapy, pouring my thoughts and feelings out on the page.

The strange thing was that I never really kept a journal.  Instead, I usually translated my feelings into fiction or poetry, creating imaginary situations to capture what I was feeling while allowing myself a way of experiencing things from another angle.

What does writing mean to you?

Colors of Thought

“Life’s better with a partner you can count on,” or so I once heard in a commercial.

Lately, I’ve been experiencing some difficulties with unreliable co-workers on a writing project I’m involved with (not at my regular job, my co-workers there are incredible!).   I’m finding that life really is better with a partner you can count on, or more directly, life is much more difficult with a partner you can’t count on.

But what makes a person reliable or not reliable?  The strange case with my own situation is that the person I’m working with actually wants to be helpful — tries to be helpful — but is just on a different plane of consciousness, somehow.  No matter how many times we revisit what needs to be done, he just does  something else entirely.

Why is it that some people seem to think on the same wavelengths, while others are off in their own worlds?   Is it mental preoccupation with some personal interest or idea?  Is it distraction? Forgetfulness? Carelessness?

I find myself retroactively grateful for all the times I’ve been involved in group activities where every person was on the same wavelength, and where every person did their part.  A committee I was involved with at USF was that way.  Every person I worked with was completely dependable, always doing what they had agreed to do, and often even beyond.  My co-workers at my current job are that way, as well, everyone pitching in to get things done, regardless of whose “job” the task was.  And my fellow Calliope Lead Editor, Sarah, is the same way as well, talking with me on a continuous basis, sharing tasks and ideas, making sure everything is done and done well.

I used to avoid groupwork, preferring to do things myself to be sure they were done right.  However, after having had such a wealth of successful group work experiences recently, I suppose I have become a bit spoiled.  I expect the people I work with to pull their own weight, and I’m disappointed when I feel that I can’t trust them to do so.

But again, it makes me wonder — what is it that makes the difference?   Why, when my current project partner is so eager to help, does it seem impossible for us to be on the same page with our interpretation of what needs to be done?

I’ve started to think of it as an organic difference.  I imagine my project partner’s mind is functioning on a different color spectrum than mine.   Maybe he’s thinking in varying shades of orange, and sorting his priorities based on their tint and deepness and vividness, but only in colors of orange.  So then when I throw my own colors into the mix — let’s say various shades of blue — then suddenly we’ve got a nasty muddle of brownish-green mess that doesn’t match nicely with anything.  I thought perhaps the answer was to try to keep our colors separate — to each do our own parts — but it didn’t work, because of course, eventually the colors must mix.     So how do I change blue to orange (or vice versa)?  How do I get us both on the same page, when our thought processes are so intrinsically different?     Maybe we can take my blue and mix in some of the yellow from his oranges, and both think in shades of green?    He’d have to set aside his red thoughts, and I’d have to allow myself to think in a bit of yellow, but it could work… right?

I Know You Can Hear Me, Computer…

I think of technology as a valuable ally, and I seldom desire to smash my computer.

Today was an exception.

Somehow, a random combination of keys that I hit unintentionally by-passed the safety check of “Do you wish to save this document?” and closed my document without saving, while simultaneously providing a cheerful sounding “ding!” — for emphasis, I suppose.

Unfortunately, Word’s Auto-Recover feature only works if the computer crashes, not if you close the document yourself.   And Word’s Auto-Save feature only saves backups of your changes until you close the document, at which point your decisive click of “yes” or “no” determines whether your changes are permanently saved or happily wiped off and dumped into oblivion.

Long story short, I lost two hours of work, and I have no idea how it happened.   I guess my pinky hit something which caused something to trigger something which then got selected and confirmed — or something like that — all within seconds and without any visible boxes of info ever appearing on my screen.

Its impact on me was markedly more pronounced.   I fumed.  I screamed.  I think I may have even shed a tear or two.  And then I shut my laptop screen and curled up into a little ball for a moment.  Then I fumed some more, called my boss and explained what happened — quite angrily — then hung up, got myself a Coke, and tried to recreate the writing that had cost me the past two hours.

Did I mention this is my day off, and I’m having to work from home in order to meet a deadline for my other job?   Did I mention that I have a list of other things that need to be done, which does not include rewriting something I’ve already spent hours working on?

And yet here I am, typing this blog, which means that I didn’t smash my computer.

My computer is lucky that I appreciate its better qualities.

Did you hear that, computer?  You’re lucky!  And if I were you, I wouldn’t press that luck again.

Confessions of an Animal Trainer

I find working with animals both interesting and inspiring.The other day, I was working near the cage of a yellow-naped parrot. Seeing me standing there (but ignoring her), she tried to get my attention. “Well, hi!” she said. I ignored her. She tried again. “Hello! Whatcha doin, huuuhh?” Again, I ignored her, on purpose this time. Her shrill voice strengthened. “Hello!” she called. I turned toward her, her little green-feathered head twisting so one of her eyes could focus on me, the small black pupil dilating and contracting as she examined me. “Hi,” she said again. “What’s your name?” I humored her. “Crystal,” I said. “What’s your name?” She puffed up her feathers triumphantly. “Lo-liiii-taaa!” She sang. She had my attention now, and she knew it. I gave her a small treat for responding correctly to my question, and she continued. “How are you?” she asked. “Fine,” I said, leading her on. “How are you?” “I’m a pretty bird,” she said. It was familiar, this conversational dance, repeated several times a day between bird and trainer. I smiled at her. “Good bird,” I said. “Want some water?” “Water,” she repeated, pumping her head up and down in an enthusiastic nod. “Yep, yep, water. Yep.” She danced excitedly as I filled her bowl with water, but then looked at me, as if expecting something. “Water,” she said again. “Water. Water.” I reached for the spray bottle, squirting a gentle stream of water into her cage. Her feathers ruffled in excitement. “Water,” she said, scrambling up the bars to hang bat-like from the top of the cage, swaying happily in the misty liquid. “Water.” I cannot help but marvel at the intelligence of this tiny animal, who so quickly and cleverly responds to my verbal cues, to the sight of the water bottle, to my every movement, rapidly associating word with action and action with reward. I cannot help but remember God’s statement to Adam and Eve: “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky, and over every living thing that moves on the earth” (Gen. 1:28). So often, I think of “ruling” over the animals as simply having them for use as food, as pets for simple companionship, or as working animals — like horses pulling a cart. But the more I spend time actually working with animals, the more I realize that there really is so much more potential within the animal kingdom. I know that the birds I work with are functioning on simple instinct. I train animals for a living now, and I realize that a parrot can carry on an entire conversation without ever understanding anything of its meaning. It responds to cues, remembering patterns of behavior, attempting to repeat a behavior that will earn it some reward. And yet, there is something more there; something that astonishes me every time I hear the parrot call to me — “Whatcha doin?” — though it happens every day. It’s a sense of awe, not for the bird itself, but for the one who created it; at the one who in His wisdom created animals that so perfectly replicate human speech, an ability that seems truly unnecessary to the bird’s survival, yet provides one more small reminder of the fact that God has created this world with such unimaginable wisdom that even the smallest creatures can provide the human race entertaining companionship,and more importantly, a poignant reminder of the God who created them. Every time I work with a new animal, I find something new to be amazed by, and this is why I do what I do. I understand that not everyone believes in God, and that experiences with animals will mean something different to each person.   This is what they mean to me. What do they mean to you?

Autumn in Florida

Yesterday morning, I stepped outside to find a slight chill in the air.

Non-Floridians will perhaps not understand the excitement of this, but here in Florida, a slight chill in the morning air means that the blistering 100 degree summer days are coming to an end.

The chill was gone by 10 AM, replaced by sauna-like heat.   Soon, the chill will persist a bit longer, and the heat will become milder, until, finally, Florida reaches the perfect combination of environmental conditions that make it the vacation hotspot that it is.  It will be 60 degrees, sunny, and gorgeous, with a cool breeze, bright blue skies, large white clouds, and still green and lush and blooming with flowers.

Some people say that Florida doesn’t have a change of seasons.  It does.  Its seasons might not seem the same as other places, but they still exist — and Autumn in Florida is beautiful.

It’s Friday!

I love Fridays.

When I was little, Friday was a day filled with anticipation of the weekend, fun with friends, sleepovers, and — most importantly — “Fun Food Night!”  Every Friday, my mom would plan something “fun” for dinner.  Sometimes we’d make our own homemade pizzas, homemade tacos, or just order a pizza and then rent a movie or play board games.

It’s strange that my love of Fridays has persisted even now, when more often than not I end up working on Saturday, so my Friday isn’t really a “Friday” anymore — at least not in the sense of being that fun, final day before the weekend.  Even when I know I have to work the next day, I still look forward to Fridays.

But this week, I have Saturday off!  I plan to take full advantage of my Friday.  First, I’m going to some friends’ place for a while… then, I plan to stay up late, eat some junk food, watch a movie, maybe even read a book.    It’s time to celebrate the childhood wonder of Fridays all over again!

Happy Friday, everyone!

Day 4

I promise I won’t keep naming my entries “Day ___”.   However, I’m currently at a loss as to what else to name this, so … sorry.

First, I’d like to apologize for missing yesterday’s posting.   Usually, I will update this every day.  However, yesterday was a pretty crazy day for me, and the daily blog just didn’t make it up.

Today’s post will be short for similar reasons — I’m currently busy with several different jobs/projects that keep me running almost non-stop.  However, Calliope is one of the things on that list of projects, so you can expect to see me keeping up with this blog rather nicely.

Anyway, all I really have to say today is that I am once again fascinated by the intelligence of animals.   This time, I’m thinking mostly about birds.   Today, I went to put water in a bird’s dish, and it looked right at me and said, “Water?”

Maybe it’s not the most monumental thing, but it definitely impressed me.

Well… that’s all until tomorrow.  Hopefully by then I’ll have something more profound to say.

See you tomorrow!