Music Monday: The BEST Part of the London Olympic Ceremonies

Sometimes I am reminded how much better the world is with a little humor, when something knows it is beautiful and serious, and yet can laugh at itself. 

I caught a lot of the Olympics, but an ill-timed flight in July made me miss the opening ceremonies. Honestly, if you missed it, too, you didn't miss much. For some reason organizers decided a five-line speech from Caliban in Shakespeare's The Tempest was enough to represent the greatest writer of all time, and they pretty much skipped over the rest of British history until the Industrial Revolution, which was, well, revolting.

But one tiny glimmer of loveliness came out of the otherwise boring and clumsy presentation, and it involved the theme from Chariots of Fire, accompanied by none other than Mr. Bean. Due to copyright laws, I can't post it here, but I laughed and laughed. My kids are fans of Mr. Bean, for he's over the top stupid. Usually that simply irritates me, but his humor this time was spot on. 

And it's humor with music. It's along the same lines of the Looney Tunes' "What's Opera, Doc?" Brilliant use of beautiful music to create comedy. 

I forgive all the rest of the crappy ceremony because of it. Okay, maybe not. I am such an anglophile that I was hoping for spectacle that truly reflected the history of my favorite place. Where was King Arthur? Where were the bagpipes? Why ignore 90% of their own history?

Pretty sad when Mr. Bean is the only bright spot. Bright spot he was, though, thank God.

In Praise of ANONYMOUS

Finally, after so many months of waiting (why, exactly?) I have seen ANONYMOUS, a story I had considered writing in play form for many, many years (and never did). The reviews were pretty scathing. Imagine, a load of idiots buying the idea that someone else wrote Shakespeare's plays enough to actually make a movie about it. Preposterous! And it was a crappy movie, wasn't it? Didn't everyone agree.

As with far too much in this world, the huge numbers of people who provide majority opinion do not prove such as fact merely by their huge numbers. And all Shakespearean scholars and actors do not agree, either. But that is beside the point. I've known several films that I loved terribly (or utterly despised) that the masses viewed differently. This film, it seems, was no exception.

Screenshot: anonymous-movie.com/

Was it the most brilliant movie ever made? Nope. Would everyone love it? Not a chance. But it was a film intended for me as surely as I'm a fan of Shake-speare's writings. It reminded me of why I write, why I LOVE writing, why I love theatre, why I'm more of a playwright than a novelist or poet, and what I feel about the power of words. I write plays--and I love theatre--because of the direct effect I witness between not only the words of the play and the actors performing it, but I love seeing the immediacy of response in the audience.

Theatre changes people. In a few hours--or a single scene, or a single moment within a single scene--audiences transform their thoughts, their feelings, their own sense of self and of the world. It is writing in its most immediately witnessed reader response, and the only sensation I have ever felt as close to watching my own plays performed to an audience is the birth of my two children.

If you are one of the literati, if you find words mightier than the sword, if you wish reason and thought and compassion to conquer the prejudice and malice in any age, this movie is for you. And if you love theatre, or Shakespeare's plays, or good costumes, or good acting, you'll like this too.

If you are determined to go to your grave believing that the Shakspere of Stratford wrote the plays, disregarding the wealth of evidence to the contrary, you'll hate this movie. And serves you right.

I love it--love it! I feel like buying a million copies of it and handing it out at Shakespeare conferences, setting up viewings of it to all sixth graders, getting to them before the brainwashing occurs when they reach Romeo and Juliet. Does the film portray the most likely, most accurate history? Nope. But it captures the truth of what I believe as fully as anything I've ever seen, and I will be watching it again the next moment I have free.

Watch it. Really. And if you love it, tell me about it. And if you hate it, well, you might just change your opinion of me. Not that I'll care at that point. I'll be too busy watching ANONYMOUS again.

Anonymous

In case you also check out my Not Writing blog, this post is in both places. I thought I'd just write it in one, but my thoughts shoved the poem I had in my head out, so this is all I can think about:

I was slapped in the face this morning. Not literally, but I'm stinging from it just the same.

And it's all my fault. And it's all because I haven't been writing.

For YEARS, ever since I took freshman composition, I've been in love with the idea of writing a play about Edward de Vere, seventeenth Earl of Oxford, whom I suspect wrote Shakespeare's plays. But over the past many years (too many to mention, believe me), I didn't write. I have tons of research for it, a huge collection of books on it, and I'd even made an outline of the major events so that I could someday write it.

Only now I don't have to. The movie is coming out in October, and it's calledAnonymous. I've missed my opportunity.

Fiction writing is one thing--sure, J.K. Rowling has made the one and only Harry Potter, and Tolkien's Lord of the Rings only happens once, but other fantastic characters can still lead beautiful lives on paper. I noticed, too, that yet ANOTHER production of The Three Musketeers is coming out. (How many versions are we going to get? The book is better than any of them.)

But Oxford's story should only happen once. I just hope it's done beautifully, that it is better than I can wish for, that people can see the irony, the tragedy, the poetry of the whole situation. Either way, whether it sucks or holds audiences spellbound, it's too late for me to write it. I've missed that chance because I haven't written it. Hell, I am probably still a decade away from having the skill to write it.

I love the story, though, so I will go to see it in October, hoping it's brilliant, but still feeling a bit compressed because I will never write it.

Developing Writers

I'm busy writing (hurray!), but I found this intriguing article today on Slate, which you can read here.

It compares Renaissance London to today's Topeka, Kansas, and thus shows us through the comparison how little we as a society tend to value writers. The article, written by Bill James, outlines four things we do for athletes that we do not do for writers:

First, we give them the opportunity to compete at a young age.

Second, we recognize and identify ability at a young age.

Third, we celebrate athletes' success constantly. We show up at their games and cheer. We give them trophies. When they get to be teenagers, if they're still good, we put their names in the newspaper once in a while.

Fourth, we pay them for potential, rather than simply paying them once they get to be among the best in the world.

While I can't agree with everything in the article, I do agree with his main point: instead of criticizing what we do to push athletics, let's just do the same thing for the artists and writers of our society, so that their skills are honed and encouraged as well.

I've been toying with getting my daughter art classes for a while now. I'm not toying with it any more. I think there's an art camp--and a theatre camp--she can join this summer, too. She's an artist with more talent at ten than I have at 41, and she can go a long way with the right encouragement and training.

And it's time to start a writer's group. Here. Now.

Wish me luck!

Writer's Block

I worked very hard this academic year. I taught twelve classes, four of them completely new, and I have worn out my grading hand pretty thoroughly. I thought when summer came that I would want nothing more than to write.

I guess I was wrong.

Over the past four weeks (yes, FOUR), I've managed to do dishes, play piano, do laundry, go shopping, sweep, and even vacuum more than write. I think I have spent more time cleaning out the cat box than I have writing. I have used every excuse there is, but the truth is, I've had a bit of a block.

For perhaps the third time in my life, I have writer's block.

It doesn't feel good. My stomach squirms, I spend far too much time playing free games on Yahoo, I eat more, I'm bored, and I feel pretty foolish.

I have done writing-related activities. I just finished going through my fourth resource for the Oxford play I'm planning (discussed in an earlier blog). But research isn't writing, and my doctorate is no indication that I love research. The books on Oxford so far--barring one--have been pretty lame, too, filled with assumed information in much the same way that biographies of Shakespeare are filled with assumptions. Every author is snide, too. The Stratfordians sneer at the likelihood of Oxford (or anyone else) authoring a single word of the plays, and the Oxfordians sniff back. It isn't pretty, it isn't nice. Furthermore, it isn't me. That's why I'm not writing a stuffy textbook expounding to the world the "truth" that I have "discovered." I make no assumptions about what the truth is in this case, mainly because until I die and go talk to all of these people myself, I won't know what really happened. (It kind of reminds me of faith--I can't fault someone's beliefs just because they don't coincide with mine, for I can't know that I'm right.)

Anyhow, while I'm slogging through the research, I'm not loving it, and it's causing me to avoid the computer, the books, everything to do with writing.

Solutions? I'd love it if you have some. I certainly don't want to start teaching in late September only to realize that I didn't write a word all summer.

I've decided to skip the research for a week. I can renew the books indefinitely (it's not like anyone else wants to read them), so they can be waiting when I actually want to "work" on writing. For now, I'm going to play. I'm going to plan out adventures, revise my novels until they are bright and shiny and ready for publication. And if I get in a rut, I won't let it last. I'll just switch gears and find something I want to write instead.

What do you do when you get stuck? How do you resolve writer's block?

Meme from Ask Me Anything

My sister urged me to do this one, too, so here goes. Let me know if any of you do the same on your blog, so I can see your answers!

1. My uncle once:
Tried to pressure my daughter to give him a hug. She wasn't impressed (you go, girl!).

2. Never in my life:
Everest. I have no death wish, nor do I wish to lose my fingers, toes, or anything else. And I hate intense cold, especially when accompanied by intense wind and tons and tons of exercise.

3. When I was seventeen:
I was a complete dork. Oh, darn, I still am!!!!

4. High School was:
Lonely. I was too smart for my own good, and had the social skills of a psychopathic killer. Only I wasn't one on the inside (it only seemed like I would be on the outside). 

5. I will never forget:
The moment I held my daughter in my arms. Life changing.

6. I once met:
Ray Bradbury. Didn't give a lick what people thought of him, so he was very open about everything. Loved having lunch with him. (Note, if you do dine with him, he hates broccoli and cauliflower.)

7. There's this girl I know who:
Knits, and knits and knits. She calls herself Knitting Mama, and I know that knitting is her way of keeping her sanity as a SAHM (mine is writing).

8. Once, at a bar:
My husband called me pretending he was in jail. When I found out he was at a bar with his buddies I hung up on him. He never did that again.

9. By noon, I'm usually:
Starving. And I eat breakfast, too. Weird.

10. Last night:
I looked at the new ihome, finished laundry, and discussed a property my hubby and I are thinking of buying.

11. If only I had:
Gone to my big sister's wedding! My one regret in the world!

12. Next time I go to gym/church:
I'll be doing Zumba Thursday. LOVE IT!

13. Susan Boyle:
What about her? I have a good voice, but I'd never make it as a star. So what?

14. What worries me most: 
My kids' dying before I do. They've promised me they won't... I hope they keep that promise.

15. When I turn my head left, I see:
My son and his friend watching Monsters Inc.

16. When I turn my head right, I see:
My deliciously old piano. 

17. You know I'm lying when:
I start giggling. I can't lie in real life. Though I do have a poker face when I know the outcome of a movie/game and I know you don't (I hate it when people give that kind of stuff away.)

18. What I miss most about the eighties:
Can't think of anything. Honest. I don't tend to miss the past, especially if I was living at home at the time (and I was).

19. If I was a character in Shakespeare, I'd be: 
Hamlet. Or Beatrice. Or Shylock. I'm probably most like Isabella in Measure for Measure... but I'd pretty much play anyone, male or female, except for Sir Toby Belch.

20. By this time next year:
I hope to have the research for my ghost book--and the writing--completely finished, and have it all out to the publisher.

Again, let me know if you decide to do the same meme. I'd love to know what your answers are.