What are You Afraid of?

A recent incident of paranoia left me shaken. I was at the YMCA, doing my hours of Zumba, and I came across a person who looked remarkably like someone I knew--and mistrusted. Within moments I had constructed a scenario whereby this person and others had checked my kids out from the childcare area and taken them away. At the end of my exercise class, I would find my children gone, and I would never see them again.

Frightening stuff. Paranoid, yes, but frightening enough that I left the class and had a long discussion with the childcare staff about other people trying to check my kids out. I found out that my own husband would not be allowed to check them out without prior notification by me.

I felt relieved. I also felt stupid. And paranoid. But I just couldn't help it. I have one huge fear in my life, and that is losing my children.

When my oldest was an infant, I drove two hours a day with her to work, dropping her off in a daycare right across the street from where I taught (so that I could nurse her in between classes). I'd wake up from nightmares about trucks slamming into my car and killing her, and I drove stiff with tension, certain that if I lost my concentration for a second, my daughter would suffer for it.

Once I became pregnant with my second, the nightmares turned to drowning, where I would put my daughter in a floatation device, only to have someone steal it from her, and find her body drowned under the water. I cannot tell you how many times I woke up screaming from that one.

Now the nightmares mostly consist of losing my kids in public places, or having someone come into my house to take them. Each one makes it impossible to go back to sleep, for I know of nothing in the world so horrible as losing one of my kids.

I am not sure how to turn that fear into writing, but looking back at what I have written, much of my plays and novels deal with lesser fears, and fictionalizing them has helped me handle the fear more effectively. Fear provides a serious risk for the characters, one that readers will find compelling.

But are some fears too hard to face? I read a YA book about a month ago that shivered me to my bones, a book told from the POV of a girl who had been kidnapped, raped, and dominated by a man for nearly six years. It was too painful, too scary, and for the first time in my life I skipped to its end, just to make sure she got out of the situation. Had I not been a mother, I might have been able to read the book in its entirety. My children--and my greatest fear--made that impossible.

What minor fears work on you? What major fears are too much for you to handle? When do books go too far, or not far enough for you to care?

Needing to Write

I did splendidly well on my weekly list. Only the hem of my dress needs to be sewn, and then it will be finished. Even better, all of the exercising I've done so far this week (after zumba this morning, I will have exercised a total of 17.5 hours!) have made it possible for the dress to fit me fantastically. I'll be wearing it July 4.

Only my "want-to" list wasn't quite completed, so I am taking some Oxford books with me to Mom's house for the 4th weekend, along with the piano books (thank goodness she now has a piano!) so that I can practice and keep the kids' lessons going. I'll be taking my computer, too, so I might even get to that ten-minute play.

I'm really itching to write, not edit. Perhaps in this coming week I'll need to put some actual generation on the docket. I'll likely sew something, too.

Because I'll be gone, though, I will likely not post again until Monday, or Tuesday at the latest. Happy fourth, you Americans, and I hope the rest of you enjoy laughing at us as we shoot off fireworks. Then it will be back to work on Tuesday for me. Oxford is waiting!

Jasper, Jasper, Jasper!

Note: This is not a spoiler alert. I will not reveal anything you didn't already know about the Twilight: Eclipse film.

Yes, I made it to the midnight showing. Yes, I stood in line three hours before it happened, ticket in hand, Edward shirt on body, with a crowd hyped up like they were going to a concert. Yes, I was one of the oldest people in line. Yes, people screamed when the show started, and many other times, too. The only difference was that my ticket was only $10, not the high dollar stuff of concerts.

While I took my fold-up chair to the car, another car stopped near me, and the driver, and older man, asked, "Why are all those people crowding up there?"

I told him it was for Twilight.

"Really? I don't know anything about the Twilight thing."

"You don't need to," I told him. "The movies weren't meant for you. You wouldn't understand." I tell that to a lot of men, actually. And some women, too.

The film was good. Not great, but I didn't expect it to be. Honestly, I waited months to read the fourth book because I had been disappointed in the third, so the movie being just okay was no surprise to me. I'm not a Jacobean, and the resemblance between the film Jacob and the boy I babysat all last year reinforces my adherence to Edward. Naturally, all of the shirtless shots of Jacob didn't do a lot for me (though they really excited quite a few others in the theatre).

I only have two beefs with the experience. One was the ring that floated around through the second half of the movie--this all-important ring that was so highly significant--and it was truly fugly. It may be one of the fugliest rings I've ever seen. (If you don't know what fugly is, think about it a bit more).

Most of all, though, I was disappointed in the title character of my blog post: Jasper. You see, in movie one, he actually vied with Edward on the hotness quotient. In the second film, his hair stunk, and he just looked weird. He looked better in this, but as we walked into the theatre, I told my friend, "I sure hope they fix Jasper's hair in this movie." And they didn't. It didn't look so much like a wig as in #2, but it still wasn't hot. Very disappointing.

So there you have it, a movie review that reveals nothing truly important about the movie at all. How you like them apples?

On a happy note, I am literally a couple hours from finishing all of the big tasks this week. Yes, my week's to-do list is almost done, and I will also manage to fit in many of the extra tasks in, too. Now I'm off to start laundry and weed the garden!

Now That's Progress!

Funny how just listing out a bunch of things online makes me work harder. Here is the list from yesterday, and the items in BOLD are those I have already FINISHED.

1. Select and order books for English 103: The Critical Essay (film criticism, I think)

2. Send syllabi to Colby Community College (the college lost previous files).

3. Finish the red dress I began in May (for July 4 weekend).

4. Help online student finish incomplete and turn in his grade.

5. Take up straps of swimsuit (too long).

6. Call girlfriends and buy tickets for midnight showing of Twilight film (unless it's too late to get tickets).

No, I'm not kidding. I pored through textbooks today, found the perfect one, and I've even ordered an instructor's copy. I am also likely two days away from the student's completion of the course.

Now all I need to do is sew. Yippee!

Oh, but wait a second. I had a second list. I have managed to work some on Oxford research, but it's going slowly. I fear the books will be overdue again very soon, but I'll just keep working on them.

On the bright side, my goal was to work out 1.5 hours/day minimum. Yesterday I managed 2.25 hours. And today I worked out for FOUR HOURS!!! Yes, that's right. I am a goddess!

Tomorrow? Cardio Kickboxing, more Oxford research, a bit of kid-tickling... Sky's the limit, as long as I can work in a nap in the afternoon. Otherwise I won't be able to stay up for the midnight showing of Twilight: Eclipse.

Got to Get Going!

Just about a week ago, I posted a list of things I need to get done. I am working on one of the bigger tasks right now (the research for Oxford), but since I began work, I have discovered a bunch of other assignments that I simply must do as well. I've been on "vacation" at a hotel for three days, and I'm heading home today, but I'm truly hoping to get some substantial work done this week, prior to the Thursday afternoon/evening when we take off for Nani's (my beloved mother-in-law).

Here's what I need to get done:

1. Select and order books for English 103: The Critical Essay (film criticism, I think)

2. Send syllabi to Colby Community College (the college lost previous files).

3. Finish the red dress I began in May (for July 4 weekend).

4. Help online student finish incomplete and turn in his grade.

5. Take up straps of swimsuit (too long).

6. Call girlfriends and buy tickets for midnight showing of Twilight film (unless it's too late to get tickets).

But here are the other things I want to get done by July 1:

1. Complete Oxford research and return all overdue books.

2. Revise short play for ten-minute play festival (auditions are July 10).

3. Do another piano lesson with the kids--Wednesday?

4. Exercise a minimum of 1.5 hours per day.

Can I get all this done in four days? No idea. My prediction is that some Oxford books will still be overdue and that I might take some work with me. I'm trying to make weekly goals, though, and not just a full summer goal, so that I can get stuff done in increments. I was actually really efficient last week, stepping up my exercise to about 3 hours/day, as well as getting the house in shape (finally!), starting up my kids' piano lessons again, and fixing half a dozen pieces of clothing that had been in the mending pile for months.

What are your goals this week? If you find my list daunting, don't fret. I'm a bit overly self-driven.

All about Oxford

I am digging into my research today on Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford. Most of you have likely not heard of the guy, and I had not until my freshman year of college, oh so many years ago (too many for me to admit). I was in Composition II, and our final assignment was to write a persuasive essay on anything we wished (after writing several on a variety of assigned topics like gun control, capital punishment, abortion, etc.). I couldn't find a topic I really cared about at all, but fortunately my parents watched a lot of public television.

I was watching Frontline on PBS on Sunday evening, the day before our chosen topics had to be turned in, and it's title that week was "The Shakespeare Mystery," and it brought up the idea that William Shakspere of Stratford had not written the plays at all, but instead, as a growing group of people contended, Edward de Vere did. I'll admit I scoffed at first. By the end of the hour, though, I had serious doubts. I researched the topic diligently, and was surprised to find that a huge number of books on the subject were right in my small college's library, ripe for the reading.

And, after much research, I had to admit I had become an Oxfordian, joining such famous people as Kenneth Branagh and Sir John Gielgud. (Shakespearean actors tend to be more open to the idea of Oxford's authorship than Shakespearean scholars--big surprise). I've been fiddling with these ideas ever since, and now that I've found a used copy of Oxford's biography, The Mysterious William Shakespeare, I'm researching everything, constructing timelines, planning out major events, all in hopes of creating a magnificent full-length play.

As most of you know, though, my first drafts tend to stink, so I'll be making a truly mediocre version first, then revising it to death until it's actually worth performing onstage. Wish me luck!

Deus ex Machina, or the Stupid Solution

I just finished another Pride and Prejudice knock-off. After my last experience with Regina Jeffers' awful book (bashed in a previous blog entry), I was reluctant to try another one, but I checked out Mr. Darcy, Vampyre from the library anyway.

Let me say, first, that it was a FAR better book than Jeffers'. Her level of plagiarism and horrid grammar made me gag for two days straight. This book was far more original, and began with the wedding, leading through to Elizabeth's final discovery that her husband was a vampyre.

What I hated--and I mean hated--was the end. Instead of resolving the problems the book accumulated through some known means, Amanda Grange (the author) pulled a rabbit out of a hat, inventing in the last 20 pages a solution for all of it.

It isn't just this Deus ex Machina I hate. It's any solution slapped on the end of a plot line because the author(s) cannot think of a fix that is integral to the rest of the book. As I write, perhaps I am better at creating the problem and building the tension than I am at finding the solution. Perhaps the solution only comes as I write, and I don't plan for it. However, once the solution has been found, it is my job as a writer to REVISE with that solution in mind. Grange's book's ending tossed all of the suspense and conflict on its head, essentially wiping it out in simple ways with an invented wash cloth of sorts. It's as if she'd written her characters into such a hole that the only way out was some weird prophecy.

The Sherlock Holmes stories had this problem, offering "solutions" to the mysteries only through cryptic details at the last minute, details none of the readers would ever be able to pick up on, but at least some of the clues were there already. I like it best when a plot contains the solutions, yet I miss them, and the ending is a surprise. Then I can re-read and see all the clues I missed the second time around. That, to me, is satisfying.

Now, here is one place this worked for me, and I'll explain why: At the end of Disney's The Little Mermaid, when Triton sees that his daughter loves Prince Eric, he magically gives her the legs she wanted, and she gets to live happily ever after. One could certainly argue that this last-minute "fix" was a deus ex machina. However, Triton could have done the same magic earlier, except for his prejudice against humans and dry land. It takes his near loss of his daughter and personal witness of Prince Eric's bravery to change his mind. You see, the plot isn't really about Ariel's becoming human, but about her father's acceptance of her choice. And that makes his act all the more potent and meaningful, as well as something we could have seen coming (though I was surprised the first time around).

What about all of you? What endings have struck you wrong? When has an ending seemed forced? When has it fundamentally changed what you thought you were reading?