The Rocking Chair

          Hey again. Today starts a series of posts: The Short Story Series. In our AP Lit class (yes, I know we talk about that a lot… but hey, what can you expect. That’s how this blog started)… in our AP Lit class, we were each assigned to write a short story of 1000-1500 words inspired by an author of our choice. I hope you enjoy seeing our writing results for a change. 🙂 Read away!

The Rocking Chair

          The rain. It came falling out of clouds that were heavy and gray. Anna got up from her old blue rocking chair and stood in front of the window, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass. Even the raindrops seemed ready to go wherever gravity took them. Why couldn’t she be ready as well? At ninety years old, Anna had been told she had six months to live. Now, at ninety-two, Anna knew she was nearing the end of her time on earth. Her mind was sharp, yet her bones were frail; her heart was weak; and her breathing was labored. No one else knew what she knew; no one would want to be bothered by death in days that were so full of life. Her granddaughter, Sophia, was nearing the end of her pregnancy with Anna’s first great-grandchild. It was just this morning that the house had been filled with family. She sighed. The revolving door had been set in motion. Sophia rushed out to get a hair cut while the dog rushed in. Her sister-in-law drove away with her son to get some last-minute groceries, as Sophia ran back inside to grab the keys laying on the table. Sophia’s nephew chased the muddy dog into the basement, and the rest grabbed a last minute snack before the house suddenly became quiet. As Anna sat in the corner, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the craziness of the household. However, the laugh had a hint of sadness as she remembered days when the children would sit around her tying and re-tying knots in her shoelaces and pulling at her chin hairs. Life was simpler then. It was hard to live life in a corner when death was so near.

          Anna glanced down at the old picture on the mantle in front of her. She was standing in the sun with her young grandchildren all around her. They all looked so happy. Glancing out at the rain again, she thought of the day they took that picture. She missed them all. They were so innocent and full of life. The new baby would be just like that. Anna suddenly felt a desperation to hold on to the life she had yet to live. She needed to say her first hellos… and her last goodbyes. Glancing out the window once again, she felt the warmth of a tear fall onto her cheek. She had one thing left on her to-do list, and that was to kiss the face her new great-granddaughter.

          “Hi, Grandma. I’m back.” Sophia entered the nursery with a cup of coffee balanced on her stomach. “Daniel said I needed to lie down and stop worrying about all the preparations.” She sighed and sat down in the blue rocking chair.

          Quickly wiping away any trace of tears, Anna turned to look at her granddaughter. Even when she was tired, Sophia had such a pretty face. Oh, how she would miss those worried eyebrows, eyes even now full of love, and the tired, yet gentle voice. “Well, you just rest. Daniel takes such good care of you. You two are going to make fine parents.”

          “I certainly hope so. The contractions are coming more often, Grandma. I don’t think it will be long before she comes.”

          “Well, don’t you worry about it. I’ve been through this before and so has your mother. It will be worth it.” Anna gave her hand a comforting squeeze. Turning away, Anna was suddenly overwhelmed by a deep and painful cough.

          “Grandma? Are you ok?” Sophia anxiously stood.

          Anna waved her back down. “Oh, I’m sure it was just the old frog in there,” she covered.

          Quietly exiting the room, Anna peered through the doorway and caught her breath. She could see herself, sixty years ago, sitting in that same rocking chair holding her newborn daughter, Megan. Thirty years ago, she had stood next to the rocking chair smiling down at Megan and her new granddaughter, Sophia. Perhaps she would be able to do the same for Sophia and her baby girl.

          As Anna slowly walked through the house, memories flooded her mind. The dark paneled family room was her favorite. It was where she could hear her children and grandchildren’s laughter while they opened presents around a crackling fire during the chilly nights in December. It was also the place of comforting when her husband had passed away. The kitchen reminded her of hours of instruction with Megan and Sophia in the art of cooking. It also reminded her of the debates that were held over which ice cream flavor was the best. The brightly colored bathroom housed memories of sharing giggles in the tub… and calming the tears of her little ones. Now, they were all grown up. They were going to have to live without her.

          Anna had struggled to her knees. The gentle rain outside thickened into an unforgiving sheet of sorrow. “Please,” she prayed, unable to stop the tears. “Let me have this one last memory.”

*******************************************************

          That had been three days ago. Today, with relief in her heart and only a thin sheet of glass between her and the sprinkle of raindrops outside, Anna stood in the nursery—holding a new life in her arms. Evelyn Hope, a wrinkled, little infant, yawned and grabbed her great-grandmother’s finger. She looked up at Anna with brown eyes full of love and trust. Even though she was only a few hours old, Evelyn Hope had a way of capturing everyone’s attention and holding them spellbound. Everything, from the tiny little fingers and toes to the peaceful face and fuzz of red hair, was a precious part of the memory that Anna was taking in. 

          Anna breathed a sigh of thankfulness. As the dying woman and the precious infant joined together in a bond of affection, a tear trickled down Anna’s cheek and landed on the newborn’s head. She wiped it away and looked into the innocent blue eyes that were so full of life. “Yes,” she thought, “I am ready to go. May this baby’s life be as fulfilling as mine.” She kissed the baby gently and laid her down in the cradle. Her to-do list was complete.

          Slowly, Anna walked around her home one last time. Coming upon Sophia sleeping in a chair near the crackling fire, Anna gently laid a blanket over her little girl and kissed her forehead. “Look at that picture on the fireplace mantle. That one’s gotta be my favorite,” she whispered to Sophia. “Don’t forget about me.” Anna placed the photo in the sleeping mother’s hand and quietly slipped into the nursery once again.

          Evelyn Hope was sleeping soundly. “When you grow up, I hope you are just like your mother.”

          As she sat down in the old blue rocking chair in the corner of the room, she smiled. Taking one last breath, Anna looked up. The rain had stopped. The clouds opened up just enough to let a ray of sunshine break though and land on her face. “I’m going home now.”

 

        Inspiration: My author was Katherine Mansfield. She definitely inspired this story in quite a few ways–consciously and subconsciously. To name a few, her stories seem to tell something about a difficulty in life that many people can relate to. As I look back on the Katherine Mansfield stories I read, I realize that this has aspects of plot from them such as… A birth from A Birthday. The difficulties of growing old from Miss Brill. I also tried to copy the point of view that Mansfield takes in the short stories I read. Limited third person. She does a lot of narration and looks inside the characters head for thoughts. I also tried to do some symbolism with the weather in this story. The amount of rain relating to the amount of distress Anna feels.

The Reader’s Peer Pressure

When I got a small reminder text that I was in charge of this weekend’s post from Katherine (God bless my punctual friend, who brings me back from my chaotic mind and reminds me of responsibilities more times that she knows or I can count), I kind of had a mental freak-out moment.  Oh great, what to write about?  I didn’t have any particularly exciting stories, my mood wasn’t right for writing something funny; I don’t have anything inspirational to write.  God help us all.  But then something very unusual happened, something very ordinary in fact, that had me thinking about something that many readers (like myself) struggle with a great deal.  But first, as I always do, I’ll tell you a little story…

For sixteen years of my life, I have been living under what many (of my friends, at least) believe is a very large rock.  Every time someone made references to Dumbledore, Slytherins, Muggles, or Voldemort, I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about.  What?  You’ve never read the Harry Potter books?!?!?!  That was the response I’d get when such a reference was made.  I’d roll my eyes, shake my head, try to explain what having overprotective Christian parents was like, and usually ended up just going with the phrase “what can I say?  I’m homeschooled.”  That usually worked and they’d walk away, never to look at me in the same way again.

But this past month, I decided that enough was enough.  I’m going to college…if I can stick needles in people and diagnose diseases in SIM dolls, I think I can handle the Harry Potter world.  So I smuggled the movies from my best friend and had a binge-watching session.  And I was rather enchanted with the idea.  How very cool!  No wonder the world was so obsessed!!  I could see the attraction.  So I decided to get the first book from my library and settled down this past weekend to begin reading it.  Not twenty pages in and my dad peaks his head into my room to ask a question, pausing when he sees the title.

“You’re reading those books?” he says scornfully.  I nod, eyebrows bunched in confusion at his tone.  “They’re stupid,” he says, turning and leaving.  And just like that…

I don’t want to read it anymore.

And that leads me to the moral of my weirdly-long story and the purpose of this post.  Because what I suffered from last Saturday is often times what many people suffer from as well at varying degrees: peer pressure.  Only, it’s not like when we were in middle school and thought it was totally cool to follow everyone else’s lead and pose with a “duck face”, wear headbands, and say “like” every other sentence (and I’m embarrassed to say that really was a rather large portion of my own middle school years).  This is a different kind of peer pressure; it’s less about our appearance or our mannerisms, and it’s more about our emotional responses to things and our mental mannerisms.

There’s nothing wrong with the Harry Potter books.  If you remember the fact that they’re written for children and thus, they aren’t written with the same finesse and beautiful vocabulary as some of the classics that lined your parent’s shelves when you were a kid, they are rather amazing.  Joanne Rowling was a genius in her own right.  The things she invented, the characters she built through her books…she really is fascinating and so are her books.  And there’s nothing wrong with reading a child’s book either!  So many times people have said that to me!  “Ew, they’re kids’ books!” they’ll scoff at a book I’m reading.  I tend to roll my eyes and inform them to bugger off.  So was The Hobbit, you idiot.  So if you want to read the Harry Potter books, go right ahead!  No one’s stopping you.

But the fact remains that if someone else doesn’t like a book that you’re reading and voices their opinion, sometimes it’s easy to get embarrassed…make excuses for yourself…stop reading the book.  It’s easy when you’re reading a book like Middlemarch or Les Miserables.  You can brag about it and people will say “wow, you’re awesome” and you can smirk and nod.  “Yeah, I read it…in French,” you can say and act all high and mighty.  I did that.  Spent three months of my summer sitting on a lawn chair in a swimming suit trying desperately to tan my English paleness away, the massive book in front of me, a French dictionary tossed to one side for those random words like ‘valetudinarian’ and ‘plebian’ that no one who doesn’t speak a language fluently would ever know.  And now, I laugh at myself.  Why in the world did I do that?  So I could brag about it.

There’s a reason to this post.  Bear with me and I will get there eventually.  Just because someone else doesn’t like a book you’re reading shouldn’t mean anything.  If you’re enjoying that book, good for you!  You’d make that author proud by reading it.  Books are meant to be enjoyed and read…we shouldn’t be worrying about what other people think about it!  And in the same way, you shouldn’t read books and waste your time on something you aren’t even enjoying, especially if you’re doing it only to see other people’s reactions.  That’s no way to read and you’re doing it for all the wrong reasons.  I’m reading a book by Bill Bryson right now (along with the Harry Potter books, a few books for school, a Greek play…ugh, my life is spent reading things!) and he happens to swear a lot.  I told my very religious cousin about it and she got very, VERY offended.  My response was simple: “Don’t read it then.”  In other words…deal with it.

On that note, I’ll take my leave from you and this very random blog post.  I’ve a date night with a wizard that has a lightning scar on his forehead.  And a note from writer to reader…I don’t really care what anyone thinks about it.  😉

Happy Easter, y’all.

MBTI and Character Development

When my blogger friends first introduced me to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) test, I had no idea it would come to form such a big part of my psychological understanding of characters. On the surface, it’s simple: after taking the test, you’re assigned four letters, each of which represents your personality preferences in a certain area. I’m an INFJ, which means that I’m an Introvert with a preference for iNtuition, Feeling, and Judging. (If you believe Tumblr/Pinterest, it also means that I’m a deeply thoughtful psychic misunderstood lonely soul, but that’s another story. xD)

The basic MBTI letters work like this:

Extroverted (gains energy from being around people)/Introverted (gains energy from alone time)

iNtuitive (sees the big picture and lives in the future)/Sensing (sees the details and lives in the present moment)

Feeling (makes decisions based off of emotions)/Thinking (makes decisions based off of facts/logic)

Judging (likes plans and schedules and sticking to accepted rules)/Perceiving (likes spontaneity and thinking outside of the box)

Or, as a pin that I recently saw has it:

Annoying (E)/Moody (I)

Know-It-All (N)/Superficial (S)

Emo (F)/Cold (T)

Stressed (J)/Hippie (P)

Now, these are oversimplifications — a real expert could talk MBTI theory for hours (and probably would, if they happened across this highly unscientific post). xD But these basic distinctions, along with the personality profiles you can easily find online for the different types, have a lot to offer where characterization is concerned!

For example, my current protagonists (in two different novels) are an INFJ (who knew?) and an INFP. Even though the letters seem pretty similar, there are actually huge differences between the types, as online type descriptions will clarify. The INFJ is much more private and reserved, while the INFP tends to be more open about her emotions. The INFJ is more grounded in real life, watching out for people and keeping everything under control, while the INFP is more imaginative and creative. Obviously, each character has her own idiosyncrasies outside the realm of type. But knowing a character’s Myers-Briggs type is kind of like coloring in a coloring book: you can do whatever you want with a particular characterization, and as long as you stay “inside the lines” of MBTI, it will still seem believable.

For me, MBTI is a good reality check. Does it really make sense for my extroverted character to be annoyed when a friend pops into her room to say hi? Would my sensing-oriented character really have formulated this complex long-term plan to achieve world domination? Since I tend to manipulate my characters for plot purposes without regards to their psychology, MBTI makes a great baseline to make sure they’re not changing TOO much over the course of a book.

Have you ever MBTI typed your characters? What are their types and how have they affected your process as a writer?

Fostering Creativity in a Busy World

For me, one of the saddest things about getting older has been watching myself allow the busy nature of my life stifle my creativity. When I was little, I would write all the time. I didn’t struggle with the self-consciousness that I do now, I wasn’t easily frustrated by my perfectionism, but most of all, my creativity wasn’t hindered by the often crushing stress of looming due dates and the overwhelming number of tasks I had to complete. It’s easy to put writing and creativity on the back burner while you focus on school, but I find that I’m most content when I make my creativity a priority. I’m by no means saying that you should neglect your education, and I’m not belittling the value of school, but today I want to talk about how to help your creativity thrive in a busy world.

It’s difficult to find time to devote solely to creativity. If we have free time, it’s easy to say that we “deserve a break from work,” and scroll through pinterest or tumblr for an hour or two. And even if we don’t succumb to those temptations, there’s always something that we can tell ourselves we “should” be doing, whether it’s editing an essay for the umpteenth time or doing bonus work for your history class. But when you find these windows of free time, snatch them up in the name of creativity. Some people can get their creativity flowing if they set the timer for ten minutes, throw a blank page in front of them, and have at it, but other people find it difficult to force creativity like that. I’m one of those people, perfectionist that I am. And while it’s important to be able to set your perfectionism aside and just write, that’s a topic for another post. But for those who find that forcing yourself to write something can be overly frustrating, there’s other things that you can do to stimulate creativity.

Let’s start with the extreme one. Actually get up out of your chair, close the laptop, and go outside. Now I rarely emerge from my hobbit hole myself, but don’t underestimate the invigorating alive-ness of the outdoors. Maybe you want to go for a walk with your iPod playing music, or maybe you just want to listen to the music of nature. Take a camera with you, look for beautiful things, no matter how small, and maybe think about why they’re beautiful. Bring a notepad and a pen to jot down feelings or thoughts, and try to forget about your worries for a little bit. In my experience, this doesn’t help me be creative so much as relaxing my mind in preparation to be creative.

Having gotten that frightening suggestion out of the way, here’s an idea that you can do without leaving your computer. Find your headphones, turn on some inspiring music (my personal preference is soundtracks — feel free to ask me for suggestions!), and open up pinterest or instagram. This strategy is wonderful for visual writers, but use it carefully though. You don’t want to get sucked in that the mindless scrolling kills your creativity. Try and look at pictures with curiosity and wonder, and when an image jumps out at you, don’t just “like” it and keep scrolling. Pause and think about it, start creating a story around it, maybe relate it to one of your characters, see where it takes you.

And this one’s for the extroverts (not me). Go talk to someone. Ask them about their day, what they think about something that happened. Strike up a conversation that’s not small talk. Maybe they’ll say something that catches you off guard and sets your mind imagining.

And lastly, the ultimate environment for creativity (in my opinion). The shower. There’s not much to be said about this one, except that I wish you could take paper into the shower. I’ve had some of my biggest inspirations in the shower, so when you step into the shower, maybe instead of stressing about that essay you’re having trouble with, try to relax for a little bit and let your creativity loose.

But you can’t always depend on being able to step away from your busy life into an optimal environment for creativity. Sometimes you have to try to find inspiration even among your simultaneously chaotic and mundane life. So what’s the solution to help your creativity thrive in the throes of everyday life?

Well, to try to find the answer, I’m going to look back to when it wasn’t a problem. When I was little, I would see stories everywhere. Granted, they weren’t very promising story ideas, but I’d start creating a story about the cartoon picture of a viking in a history encyclopedia. I would tell stories aloud to myself in front of the mirror, making them up as I went along. When I was doing chores, I created tragic stories about how I was a fair maiden imprisoned wrongfully in some dark castle and enslaved by a wicked sorcerer. Like I said, they weren’t very complex stories, but I didn’t have any problem drawing inspiration from my life and doing chores or school didn’t mean it was time to turn my creativity off.

So what changed?

Well, high school happened.

But even aside from school, my life seemed to be more draining. Just yesterday I had to do a lot of chores at the end of the day. Between accumulate stress from the week and worrying about school, I spent the twenty or so minutes cleaning the house on the verge of tears, unable to take my mind off my work and feeling the need to get back to it immediately. But I really didn’t need to get back to my work right away. As important as it was to finish all my weekly assignments, they could have waited for twenty minutes.

When I was little, it was a lot easier to look at my life with wonder-filled eyes and my curiosity led the way to creativity. And it’s not like my life has gotten any less interesting. On the contrary. But something else that has changed over the years is my perfectionism. The older I’ve gotten, the more critical I am of my creativity. My stories need to be richer and bigger to fulfill my creative needs, and that’s okay, but I think I’ve started to skip over a step, trying to go straight to the big result, and losing my wonder over the little things.

Creativity isn’t usually a flood of ideas that instantly arrange themselves into something cohesive and wonderful. Creativity is often inspired by little things, and I think between the business of my life and my growing perfectionism, I’ve begun to overlook the little things that used to capture my interest. Even if my life can be dull, stressful, and grey sometimes, that didn’t stop my creativity before, and I don’t think that everyday life is a hindrance to creativity. The best way to foster creativity is to consciously peel your eyes for wonder throughout your days. When you see something, no matter how small, that seems apart from everydayness, take the time to see where it can take you. Maybe it’s a song, some historical figure you’re studying in school, a picture, a comment from a friend, or any manner of other things. Whatever it is, don’t just glance at in and walk by, try to take hold of it and ask questions about it, create those tragic backstories that you created when you were little. Don’t lose those wonder-filled eyes, embrace the smallness of life, and creativity will follow.

~Katherine

Inspiration

Where does inspiration come from?

More specifically, where does the inspiration for a novel come from? I hope you all have read Katherine’s lovely post on her plot bunny; I guess you can see this as kind of a continuation of Katherine’s thoughts – a prequel to her post, if you will. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been feeling the novel itch. This itch comes and goes from my life, usually appearing right when I need to start studying for AP exams or applying for jobs and scholarships, or doing other boring and important things. Instead, all I can think about is this faceless novel.

But here’s my problem: I don’t have a particularly wonderful idea for a novel. I just want to write (and I’m not talking about essays…those don’t count). I want to have pencil dust creasing my fingers. I want a new set of characters to travel with me everywhere I go. I want that warm, fuzzy feeling of knowing that I’ve invented a world that’s currently residing halfway between my head a piece of paper.

But enough whining. I’m here today to think through how we get inspiration for our stories. I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts in the comments, but here are some places that I find I get my best inspiration for plot lines.

1.) My own life – I feel like this is cheating a little bit. Everybody knows the old adage, “Write what you know.” Still, I think this is where a lot of good stories come from. I really want to write about either sibling relationships or friendships (not that the two are mutually exclusive), so I’ve been thinking about how I’ve behaved as a sister and a friend. The only problem with this source of story inspiration is that my experience is still very limited. I’m still a teenager who hasn’t seen a whole lot of the world and hasn’t had a lot of the experiences that can foster excellent writing. Still, that isn’t stopping me.

2.) Other books – No, I’m not talking about plagiarizing. You can stop looking horrified now. The peak of my writing production so far occurred when I was in late middle school/early high school – basically before academics and extracurriculars took over my life. I wrote and wrote and wrote. When I look at some of that writing now, I can’t believe how similar some of the elements are to my favorite books at that time. This is not to say that you should adopt the tone of a 1950s children’s author just because you like a lot of 1950s children’s fiction, like I did in middle school. Still, what we read inspires us and I’ve seen that repeatedly in my own life.

3.) Bored little daydream-ey moments when I’m people watching – When I’m sitting in traffic, standing in the grocery store, the doctor’s office, the post office, the library, I often start making up stories for the people around me. “What is that exhausted-looking mother thinking right now?” I ask myself. “And, wow, that teenager looks dismal.” And then I proceed to make up an interesting world for that person. Is this fodder for a wonderful novel? Probably not, but you never know.

4.) History – This is a big one for me right now. I’m taking an AP US History class, so I’m being flooded with stories about all kinds of people. I’m intrigued by all of the stories out there, many of which haven’t been told. My grandma recently gave me a stack of letters written by family members during the Great Depression. Would I ever turn that into a novel? Quite possibly.

5.) Pinterest! – Yes, this is a rather fluffy source of inspiration, especially after weighty things like seeking inspiration from the plight of the migrant worker in the 1930s. I love Pinterest, though, and it deserves a spot in this blog post. Here’s my current character inspiration board.

And there will be a novel inspiration board coming soon…just as soon as I find the perfect novel idea!

The Story Bunny

“Plot Bunny” is a deceptively innocent term for a barrage of images and words that hits without warning and leaves a writer’s head in a flurry of activity and, in my case, stressing over decisions. Recently, I was attacked by a Plot Bunny, though, again, I must speak against the accuracy of the term. For me it was more of a Character/Image/World/Theme Bunny, without much of a plot to speak of. Time and time again, I’ve had inklings of Story Bunnies that don’t end up amounting to much, but this recent one was remarkably cohesive for me.

But as exciting and wonderful as it was to have a rapidly growing Story Bunny I really wanted to write, I already had a novel I was working on, with themes and story concepts I adored. Choosing what you want to write is obviously a big decision for a writer — especially one like me who prefers to only have one major project to focus on.
And there’s a lot of thinking (and in my case, overthinking) that goes into the decision of whether to commit your time to developing a Story Bunny, but I want to talk about what happens after that decision, with my own Story Bunny as a case study. How do you take a jumble of images and words and characters and half-finished quotes and develop them into a novel? To be honest a lot of it just happens, and the things that just happen seem to be the most important parts, but occasionally you need to go searching for things to feed the bunny.

To begin with, it helps to pin down what exactly it is that’s the basis for your story idea. It might be an image, or a quote or a question, or anything else really. For me, it was a different way of looking at a classic story. Specifically, after the children come back from being kings and queens in the magical land, what is their life back in this world like? Whatever it is that first inspires your Story Bunny, explore it to no end. Follow every rabbit trail and question that springs from it, follow every rainboooooww till you find your dreeeam.

Ahem. Anyway.

Now some people might prefer to stay focused in on the inspiration for their story and fully develop that before moving on to anything else, but personally I like embracing the room for creativity and going wild. I’ve had my sketch pad nearby me nearly all the time, sketching my characters and the places and jotting down images and connecting dots. My disorganized approach certainly won’t work for everyone (I’m looking at you, Js of the MBTI-verse), but I love the freedom and excitement of it.

Something I’d recommend is after your Story Bunny first attacks keep a notebook nearby. I know some writers recommend always keeping a notepad or a wad of index cards on you to jot down notes and ideas for writing, but I’ve never been able to manage this. After the onset of a Story Bunny, though, it’s very helpful to be ready for any new ideas, as they often strike when you aren’t prepared for them.

Everyone has their own way of encouraging the ideas to come. For me, it’s usually listening to soundtracks I’ve picked to fit the mood of the Story Bunny and browsing Pinterest boards for images that seem right for my story. Or at least a version of that. Rainy days with mugs of tea are particularly inspiring as well.

For my Story Bunny, I knew who most of the characters were right away. There was one wide-eyed girl with wispy brown hair who was enamored of the magic who would struggle with depression when she was plunged back into a world without magic. There was a soft-spoken girl who was wary of any commitment, having been torn away from foster home after foster home. I knew that she would fall in love with someone in the magical world, and then when she came back into this world, she’d struggle with ever finding motivation to love anyone again. Then there would be a boy with wild hair who thrived on adventure and was always getting in fights after coming back from the glorious battles. Then there was the more hazy image of the boy with the deep-set eyes who felt empty without his crown.

You’ll notice none of these characters have names, and that’s completely fine if at first the ideas and colors of the story are a little blurry. In fact, blurry lines leave room for growth and creativity. But you do need to try to establish some foundation stones to build on. And if the stones are a little vague and seem a little random, then that’s okay — the fun will be in figuring out how to connect the stones together into something strong to build something off of.

I’d encourage you to try to ask yourself what it is about the Story Bunny that captured your attention and imagination, and try to make that the core of your story. Whether or not it ends up being very obvious to others when your story’s grown into something more cohesive, don’t lose sight of what it was that you first thought was beautiful about your story, at least not at first. It’s okay if it ends up buried at the foundation while other things take center stage in the story, but make sure that it stays grounded in the foundation.

So this disjointed ramble just to give you an idea of how I tackle bringing up my own Story Bunny and hopefully it’ll give you some care tips for the next bunny that you adopt barges its way into your writing world.

Katherine

The Slaphappy Shakespeare Society

          So today was kind of a big day for me. I’ll just come right out and say it… today was the day that I learned to like Shakespeare (at least so far).  It might have had something to do with the people I read with. It might have something to do with the intensity of the play. It might even have something to do with the determined mood I was in. But that’s not the point. The point is that I actually enjoyed it.

          I’ll be honest. I think I read one Shakespeare play in my lifetime. And that was yearsssss ago. The younger me couldn’t handle the Shakespearean language. So I made the decision I did not like it and am ashamed to say that I have sorta, kinda, possibly avoided Shakespeare ever since. I think it was more to do with fear and trepidation than anything else. Shakespeare is one of the most (or quite possibly THE most) famous author of all time. My brain told me I HAD to like it. How dare I dislike the work of so famous and highly regarded an author! So instead of facing the fact that I once again might not enjoy one of his plays, I decided to just not read them all together. Then I didn’t have to make a decision, right? WRONG. Sooner or later I was bound to have to come to terms with my fear… especially while taking an AP Lit class. (Did I really think I would be able to get out of that?)

          Anyway, I had been slightly behind on my reading this week when I sat down this morning to start the book. That’s when I learned about… SHAKESPEAREAN TIP NUMBER 1: clear the room of all distractions (or all little brothers and cats) so that you don’t have to look up every 10 seconds and lose your place in the Shakespearean madness… So I started reading. (Keep in mind that I was only planning on reading Act 1 and then moving on to my psychology textbook.) OH! And by the way, the play is Othello, the Moor of Venice. So I read the first words of Roderigo, “Tush, never tell me! I take it much unkindly / That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse / As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.” Oh great, I thought, I’ve only read the first line and I don’t even understand it. But I kept plowing through, knowing that I needed to read it to complete the assignment. That’s when I discovered… SHAKESPEAREAN TIP NUMBER 2: if you do not understand the first scene of a Shakespeare play, do not give up. Push through the old English and do your best to paraphrase what is happening in your head. You will soon forget it is old English… Ok, so maybe not forget that it is written in old English. But, honestly, that’s what happened to me. By the time I was reading scene 3 of Act 1 I found myself actually understanding what was going on! Well, that’s a start! I though out loud and continued to read about the schemes “good ol’ Will” had thought up.

          That’s when I discovered that some of my Lit friends were going to be reading aloud Act 3 of Othello over Skype. The Slaphappy Shakespeare Society. Now that sounded like fun. So, seeing that I was still on the first act, I settled down with a cup of tea and a granola bar to catch up and join this slaphappy society. That’s when I realized… SHAKESPEAREAN TIP NUMBER 3: Shakespeare is not one of those slow plot line, boring stories. There are life threats, arguments, plot twists, and comedic surprises (at least in Othello)… I looked up from my page at the end of Act 2. And couldn’t believe I had just spent about 2 hours reading almost 40 pages of something I didn’t even think I’d like. It wasn’t bad, and I was just in time for the Shakespeare society. Turns out, I was playing Othello. This should be fun. Acting is the best, especially with friends. Then I thought of… SHAKESPEAREAN TIP NUMBER 4: reading plays out loud with friends, in dramatic voices, pausing to discuss things that don’t make much sense, cracking up at the weird lines and gasping in shock at the plot twists, is the perfect way to begin enjoying a book even more… After this epic book club reading and discussion, I read back over Act 3 of Othello. Wow, I thought, I actually enjoyed that. Yes, the friends helped. Yes, the determination helped. Yes, the intensity of this specific play helped. But, guess what? Besides the extras that had helped me along, I actually enjoyed the Shakespeare play itself.

          So I’d like to give a shout out to Kathermona (Katherine/Desdemona), Abbio (Abby/Cassio), Luciago (Lucie/Iago), and Clarilia (Clara/Emilia) (and Noellers (Noelle) too for letting me be Othello (or Jennello) in your absence). Today was kinda a big day for me. I LIKE SHAKESPEARE NOW! And I’m pretty sure I can contribute about 76.2% of that to you guys. Although, we haven’t read the last two acts yet (and I’ve heard there are some tragic plot twists ;P) I’m excited to have a whole new world of literature opened up for my entertainment and reading/writing growth. So THANK YOU GIRLS. And thank you Mr. Shakespeare too. 😉

P.S.

Here’s a recording of our Act 1 reading, if you interested. This one features Noello (Noelle/Othello) instead of Jennello (Jenna/Othello) :

https://soundcloud.com/user-714348023/othello-act-1-reading-february-23-2016

Featuring our fantastic cast:

Duke of Venice: Ryan (Katherine’s brother)

Brabantio: Abby

First Senator: Katherine

Second Senator: Lucie

Othello: Noelle

Cassio: Abby

Iago: Lucie

Roderigo: Clara

Desdemona: Katherine

Sailor: Clara

Narrator of Stage Directions: Katherine

 

WARNINGS: Lots of interruptions (“What does this even mean?”), giggling, confusion over casting, and other general distractions.