:: SIDRTL - e. m. forster ::

- - -

(fyi, SIDRTL stands for "Something I Drew Related To Literature", and it's not like that was a thing before I made it a thing. it's just that I love acronyms. I can't resist them. and I make them up constantly: CdA! iow, carpe di-acrony-em.)

:: filler (don't say I didn't warn you) ::

looking through some old notebooks, I came across quite a few little standalone paragraphs I've written. it kind of amused me, and I thought, for lack of better content, that I would include some here. on a personal note, I quit my job last week (which was rough, relationally) and it's been a difficult few days. anyway, my last day is this saturday, after which -- while I do have some summer plans -- my time will be remarkably freed up, and I can continue to pour out my abundance of thought on your unwilling heads. WOOOOO! bet you can't wait, right?

- - -

   I wouldn't make a good writer.
   I'm no good with interesting plots, I'm way too dramatic, and my heroes would all look like sydney carton. (that knocks out novels.) nor am I good at crazy, clever, unexpected plot twists; which knocks out short stories. I hate theses and dry, factual writing with supporting points and a bibliography -- I'm not destined to be an essayist or lecturer.
   and yet… in my opinion, which could be absolute crap for all I know, I'm not bad at quick scenes: a sketch of character, a short interaction, one occurrence in the life of a nameless man. honestly, I think this is because I've read enough to be able to vary my words until they flow, until they sound right -- I just lack the genius to use that as a tool to aid my imagination, and instead make it the end.
   which is fun.
   but gets me nowhere.

- - -

   they say that romance doesn't exist -- forever, anyway.
   they say that marriage isn't "romantic".
   "it's not all date nights and chocolates and red roses," they caution. "you'll still have clogged toilets to deal with when you're married!"
   but you know what? I'll plunge a clogged toilet for you any day.

- - -

   I have all these great, inspired ideas for poems, blog posts, short stories, and novels, which occur to me at precisely the wrong moment: sitting in church, just falling asleep, doing schoolwork…and then when I try to recall it, the inspiration -- sometimes even the idea -- slips away, leaving me dumbfounded, openmouthed, staring frustratedly at my empty hands and the veritable puff of dust on the horizon. that rapidly-vanishing puff was all my creativity, darnit.

:: my problems with most homeschooled authors ::

after my last post's general irritation with bad writing (in general) and fantasy (in particular), I realized something that bugs me even more than just badly-executed books like eragon or for darkness shows the stars are books that are… well, to be frank, self-published by for-the-most-part-conservative Christian homeschoolers. I have a few "enjoys" in my list of self-pub'd reads, but for the most part, people self-publish because publishers don't want what they have to offer.
   publishers are businesses. they are looking out for what will make them money, which is selling a lot of books; they'll only sell a lot if the general public will buy a lot. so publishers are usually pretty up on current market trends and what people want.
   if a publisher doesn't take your book, people don't want it.
   don't publish it.

   there's a large movement among the stay-at-home-daughter sector towards writing and self-publishing. I think this is because writing is something you can do from home and it's easier now than ever to spread the word (literally and figuratively). it's easy and it feels like you're really making a positive difference in the world, because "here is good, wholesome fiction that all my friends tell me is hugely enjoyable; it has some sneaky references to my favorite fairy tales, classic novel, or sci-fi fantasy. also, it means I'm not wasting my time as I wait for my future husband to sweep me off my feet  and ride with me into the sunset! figuratively, of course."

   this trend is extraordinarily discouraging, because for the most part… these girls are terrible. they don't know how to write fiction. people tend to think -- until recently, I did, too -- that practice makes perfect, and if they keep trying, they'll get better. I no longer believe this, because all I see is stagnation: no improvement whatsoever. I think this stems from how few of these girls see problems with the fundamental structure of their stories. they just don't know better, so they blissfully continue to churn out stale, clichéd re-dos of old plot lines.

  I am a homeschooler. I have been a part of a larger homeschool group once, for a few months (and then we moved). I have little to no life experience, I have been sheltered, and I still like listening to the beach boys.
   there, I said it. I listen to the beach boys. OKAY.
   I do not at all look at the people around me and think they are somehow lesser because they are trying to spice up their lives. as often as I've said "I don't write," I actually have. somewhat frequently, when I was younger (although it's always been more poetry than prose). this is because I feel like there's something out there that I'm missing. our curriculum was literature-based, so I grew up on books like jane eyre, emma, a lion to guard us, the ramsay scallop, out of the dust, eagle of the ninth. I felt that that was what life was supposed to be! -- and it wasn't mine. I turned to writing, hoping that I could start something by writing "something odd happened today" -- how many girls begin their adventures that way? or "I woke up expectantly this morning; something is in the air" -- great catalyst for adventure, right?

   so I think I understand the longing for something greater, more exciting, more vibrant than the life you have now. nor do I want to discourage anyone from writing to get it out! the difference is that people are putting this written product on the internet. the stuff that's being put on blogs now would never have seen the light of day 20 years ago. it wouldn't have made it. you'd pass your manuscript around to select friends and family, they'd pat you on the back (or the head) and if you ever sent it to someone professional, it would end up in the slush pile, and there's the end of it.
   now, however, we have blogs. this means any- and everything gets paraded before the world, even if it's terrible, and that terrible is becoming the new standard. it's okay if you're bad; but putting the bad-ness out there for others to see doesn't make it good.

   part of the difficulty these writers have is that same lack of experience I wrote about yesterday. they have little to no experience that applies to the stories they're trying to tell; they write about situations and topics very, very far removed from their own sphere of knowledge -- because this is how they can vicariously live a more exciting life. at some level these girls don't think they are capable of writing a true-to-life story (because they never seem to), and they circumvent this inability to create real, compelling characters by giving them pointy ears and calling them 'yevna' and saying, "well, it doesn't have to be like real life, because I'm living in writing about a fantasy world!"
   what's even more sad: a beautiful writing style would cover a multitude of sins, but among most of these I-want-to-be-a-writer people, coherent, flowing sentences are few and far between. and the dialogue is only worse.

my problems, in sum, are:
1. fantasy, by anyone. if everyone stopped thinking of fantasy as the only genre anyone will ever read, the number of dragon/elf/magicpeople books would drop and the occasional fairy would make for a cool twist on the usual. be original, truly creative -- instead of trying to be the next r. j. anderson, christopher paolini, cornelia funke, or (heaven forbid) j. r. r. tolkein.

2. homeschoolers writing bad fantasy. do you realize the image you're putting out there, of all of us? we all look incapable of writing about anything other than lotr, chronicles of narnia, and the occasional period drama -- which extensive life experience gets poured into tales of imaginary creatures. who have remarkably familiar names, like elves. and do these polite things, crazily reminiscent of old-fashioned manners. 

   huh. wonder why.
3. homeschoolers writing badly, in general. THIS SHOULD BE AN OXYMORON. you have parents whose sole job is to train you and educate you. a big part of that education should be how to successfully communicate.
   so why. do you write. that terribly. 
   maybe your mom wasn't a great writer and your dad doesn't know how. heck, take a writing class and learn. take it online. take it from a conservative, Christian university. but stop cementing bad practices and insisting it will make perfect, because it won't. and please learn how before you spend your dad's hard-earned money on self-publishing overused plots that nobody but your friends will read.

and these are my problems with the homeschooled, Christian writer circles.

:: how to write something worth reading ::

(warning: I don't follow my own advice.)

writing fiction is no mean task. I've tried before, and it takes a certain measure of talent and know-how to come up with something good (which I've never done, and that's how I know). unfortunately, there are a lot of people out there who misguidedly believe that all it takes is a love for books -- any kind of books! read all the books! -- and a pencil.
   or in my pet peeve's case, a blog. (see next post.)

I'm not a fantastic writer, myself, of fiction or non-. I couldn't sit down and give someone a great overview of what makes good writing good writing, although I can pick it out. I want to address instead what makes good reading. what makes a book compelling? relatable? a classic?

today I have two samples of writing. read them. compare them. comments to follow.

number one:

I remove my mask and close my eyes, as the villainy in me is once more buried. I hate that I am a villain, and that it is my brother against whom I must fight. I sigh. But there is nothing I can do about it. One cannot rebel against the HaV Academy and their schemes. I take a deep breath and go to the garden that my brother has placed within my lair. When our masks are off, we are completely civil to each other. Indeed, as far as anyone knows, we never fight. ...But that's because we have to fight when our masks are on. Quietly I pick sufficient food for Willow, then head to the dungeon and place the food through the wall. I do not allow her to see my face. Then I head back to my room and change completely into normal civilian clothing. I then make my way through the tunnel that leads to the small home that my brother and I share. By now he, too is back into his normal clothing. "I wish we didn't have to do these sort of things," I tell my brother. "I know," he replies. "I know." We both enjoy our powers, mine over the inorganic, his over the organic. But we hate that we have to fight each other, that we cannot stand the sight of each other in our masks. We hate that I must be a villain. But there is nothing for it. We must live our lives like this until we have been replaced, and, at this moment, replacement is a long ways away.

number two:

All along the fence, especially along the lower line of wire, all sorts of rubbish had caught and tangled. It was like the debris you get on a seashore: the wind must have carried some of it for miles and miles before finally coming up against these trees and these two lines of wire. Up in the branches of the trees, too, I could see, flapping about, torn plastic sheeting and bits of old carrier bags. That was the only time, as I stood there, looking at that strange rubbish, feeling the wind coming across those empty fields, that I started to imagine just a little fantasy thing, because this was Norfolk after all, and it was only a couple of weeks since I'd lost him. I was thinking about the rubbish, the flapping plastic in the branches, the shore-line of odd stuff caught along the fencing, and I half-closed my eyes and imagined this was the spot where everything I'd lost since my childhood had washed up, and I was now standing here in front of it, and if I waited long enough, a tiny figure would appear on the horizon across the field, and gradually get larger until I'd see it was Tommy, and he'd wave, maybe even call. The fantasy never got beyond that -- I didn't let it -- and though the tears rolled down my face, I wasn't sobbing or out of control. I just waited a bit, then turned back to the car, to drive off to wherever it was I was supposed to be.

you choose. which is better?
   the answer is obvious: the second one. the first has a terrible flow, bad grammar, confusing statements (and I read the entire short story, only a paragraph or two longer than this excerpt. I'm still confused). even though I'm trying to focus on the themes, not the writing, the utter badness (in all aspects) of the first comes out and whacks me in the face.
   the second is muted, vague, but still powerful, with beautiful imagery, well-crafted prose, and a relatable-ness utterly lacking in the first excerpt.
    why is one so good and one so bad? here is my theory as to what makes good reading.

- - -

to write well. good writing isn't just a thrilling story, not just a satisfying end, and it is definitely not a calling-forth of emotion. a book may make you cry, and a good book probably will -- but a book is not judged by the emotion you feel in response, any more than a book is judged by the quality of the cover (although in both cases, they're sometimes good estimates. just saying).
   remember: I am not addressing the mechanics of writing itself. (that can be fixed with relative ease.)

to write well, I believe you have to have
1. insight into a universal issue.
2. a universal truth in response to, or as resolution for, that issue.
3. personal experience of this universal topic.

example 1. you are gay and understand the pressures of society to 'conform or you'll be an outcast'; you write a story in which a girl feels this same pressure as she faces marriage to a man she doesn't love, and the story resolves with her braving the societal outrage as she chooses the man she'd rather marry and finds true happiness.
   insights: we all feel different from everybody else. we all want to be special.
   truth: love (I'm special to someone). forgiveness (my seemingly wrecked relationships can be mended). friendship (there are others like me; I'm not alone).
   personal experience: he knew he was different from others in a way that they didn't accept; he still found meaningful relationships.

example 2. you are a moderately-educated daughter of a country rector, keenly conscious of class differences and arbitrary societal rules; you write a story about a middle-class girl who first scorns the higher-class for their snobby behavior (and is scorned in return for her uneducated connections), until she comes to realize that she's no better -- eventually marrying someone of higher class who recognizes she is worth her character, rather than her inelegant extended family.
   insights: everyone thinks they're better than someone else. there's always someone who has it better than we do.
   truth: humility (jumping to conclusions makes me [wrongly] judge others). love (I can give the benefit of the doubt). self-sacrifice (I'd rather my beloved be happy than me; but when he's happy, I'm happy).
   personal experience: she felt downtrodden, as part of a lower class and as a woman; but she proved that all people of all classes were worth just as much, by showcasing talent society thought a woman (and poor, at that) couldn't have.

and if I could bring my point home, the first example is a room with a view by e. m. forster, and the second is pride and prejudice by jane austen. see? they had the insight, the truths, and the experience to write a compelling story. multiple, in fact.

the problem with books today is that too many "writers", having only vicariously lived through (often mediocre) fiction, are trying to write stories about topics with which they have no experience and without the fundamental knowledge they need to make their work resonate on a deeper level with their readers.
   I think this is why so few teen authors have a lasting impact: they're too young, both for the life knowledge required to identify the common denominators of human existence, and for the experience needed to add depth and feeling to their narrative. not that it's impossible: we've read to kill a mockingbird for over 50 years now, and the outsiders for almost as long. but those girls had experience most kids their age didn't have.
 
   this also, I think, is why there are so few sci-fi/fantasy classics -- and I mean, that are put in the same category as war and peace, a tale of two cities, homer's odyssey, les miserables. science fiction is fantastical, unrealistic, untrue to life as we know it; and that definitive trait is the same that makes it hard to find parallels between the story and, well, life as we know it. since fantasy is not real by definition, the imaginary-ness becomes an extra hurdle the author must jump over in order to represent any real-person, real-world struggles to the real people who are trying to identify with it. the excellence with which tolkien and frank herbert created worlds very different and yet very similar to ours rightly earned their books "classic" status; but that's not something you see every day.
   what you do see every day, though, are scores of people who opt to write fantasy because they don't think there are rules to writing it. and I am sick of the fantasy genre, sick of reading sucky stories about magic and improbable worlds because the authors can't write worth a squash, but try to disguise it beneath randomly-lettered names and creatures with odd body parts.

it's important to be able to do the lesser before the greater. olympic ice skaters don't start by learning how to perform a double axel; they start by learning how to move forward on the ice. if I could offer one piece of advice to budding writers, merely as an interested reader:

DON'T WRITE ANYTHING BUT REALISTICALLY UNTIL YOU'RE ACTUALLY GOOD AT IT.

:: I turned nineteen yesterday ::

a birthday came upon me
and it caught me unaware:
gliding up so quietly,
I didn't see it there;
and then it swiftly vanished,
but it took another year --
so let me pause and think again
on what I'm leaving here.

- a remembrance

:: OH-ree-en-TAY-shun ::

yeeeeee-aaaah guess who just got home from a two-day orientation at everybody's favorite college!!!

…

you're totally right. it was way not that exciting. most of it was an exhausting, mind-numbing, information overload, and it is a little freaky how empty your brain feels at the end of the day, because you know that there was some SUPER-IMPORTANT piece of knowledge that the REST OF YOUR COLLEGE EXPERIENCE (at best) or the REST OF YOUR ENTIRE CAREER AND LIFE (at worst and most probable) rests on that little piece…and you're so tired you probably missed it. 

   which is kind of a sucky feeling to spend the day in. or the two days, if you're attending Everybody's Favorite College, which I am, which probably didn't need to be repeated. 

on the bright side, my orientation group was great. my "student orientation staffer" -- or, in the dearly-beloved college language of acronyms, my SOSer -- was taylor, and she was perky and pretty great. she knew a lot and she kept us going. go twizzlers, am I right? 

   then there was madyson, jordan, nathan, bailey, cj, jennifer, kaelin, and maggie. I have rated them in order of fun-ness.

   JUST KIDDING, GUYS, I LOVE YOU ALL. 

it was weird how emotionally attached I got to my group, though; I had this crazy separation anxiety until I could find them again, if we were split up for anything. towards the end of day 2, I was part of a differently-membered campus tour group, and when bailey showed up, I was like, "HEY GIRL HOW ARE YOU I'VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH BECAUSE I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN BASICALLY TEN MINUTES!!!!" 

   it was maybe not that exuberant, but close. she looked a little terrified of the crazy clingy homeschooler. 

   yep, that's me, folks. feel the love.

everybody was really sweet to me, though, and I absolutely appreciated it. I went into the whole experience worried that I'd come across as the naive, sheltered homeschooler that… I… am… *ahem* that people think of homeschoolers as being, right, and also that a name like "deryn" will come across as weird and impossibly hard to remember. 

   well, it kind of cuts both ways, because while it may not be "olivia" or "ashley" or, heck, "jacqueline", once you get it, you've got it. "deryn" isn't your typical name. needless to say, people using my name is a very emotional experience for me; I might tear up and get all weepy. which I wanted to do several times when people were like, "hey deryn…" and I was like "OH, YOU KNOW MY NAME LET ME HUG YOU" -- more or less.

so that was a rough overview of my orientation experience. true, there were a few other things I learned. don't step on the bird (or you have to kiss it). freshman dorms are not 5-star hotels. our side is crunker than, crunker than your side. when you don't know how to nicely wrap something up, say "go cards" and sit down.  -- oh, right, and, small detail, I registered for classes. (not only did I spend more money at one whack than I ever have before in my life, it means)

THIS GIRL IS NOW A COLLEGE STUDENT BOOYAH!!

and

and

...go cards. *sits*