Happy Thanksgiving!
Despite what you may assume from the title, I'm not bashing the idea of having Christmas sales so early in the year.
I AM going to get serious though. Every year, hundreds of thousands of people gather outside stores in the wee morning hours after Thanksgiving. These tired, turkey drugged shoppers then wait with increasing anxiety as the minutes slowly drag by until the store opens. Finally, one terrified associate is either bullied into or brave enough to turn the key and allow customers to swarm the store for the big sale.
Every year, someone dies.
That initial push always kills someone. A life, something irreplaceable and impossible to discount is lost. It doesn't happen very often, but it happens more often than it should.
Just to illustrate the point, imagine having to have this conversation.
"Oh, I'm sorry, how did your beloved family member die?"
"Sales shopping."
Really? Is it worth it for someone to lose their precious family member and never see them again in future Thanksgivings?
Not to mention the arguing, the bickering, the stealing, the shop lifting, the easy theft, and the total disrepair of morals that would have held true had the shoppers been more awake, alert, and less desperate.
Granted, some families can only afford nice things on this one particular day. Yes, stores are trying to depressurize the day with online shopping and extending the sale around that particular day to the rest of the month.
Still, someone always dies.
For stuff.
For things that will wear out and break down and in the end only bring a few moments of pleasure.
For things that can be bought at the same price with the right discount and coupon combo any other day of the year or afforded with the right savings plan.
Why?
Because we are impatient. Because it's exciting to race. Because stuff is presented as bright and shiny and needed.
Historically, there have been times when a single death was all it took to enact cultural movements. Archduke Franz Ferdinand's assassination triggered World War I. Emmett Till's brutal murder sparked sympathy for the Civil Rights Movement. Today, people are shot by police and gangsters and plenty are in arms to call for things like gun reform, end of racism and police brutality.
People die on Black Friday and all you hear is, "Too bad. Isn't that so sad?"
There are no loud wars on the stuff culture. There are no cries for dis-banning the practice of Black Friday. Wars on the stuff culture don't turn profits. People don't like hearing the word "no" or the phrase, "you don't need that" or "you can't have it." I guess the major difference between the people who die shopping and the innocent people who die on the streets because of gang violence is that there is no solid bad guy, except for our culture of stuff.
Sorry for the especially dark post. As you read this, this holiday season, remember the people around you, and be aware of them, love them, watch out for them, protect them. Even if they're not your baby. If you are shopping early tomorrow, watch for the people that fall and then fight for their lives.
It's more important than any 75% discount.
Thursday, November 26, 2015
Sunday, November 22, 2015
My Conversion to Living Tiny
I know. Two tiny living posts in a row, but I felt inspired. One of the keys to being a good writer is to sometimes allow your inspiration to carry you away.
Why do I love tiny living? What is the appeal? I grew up in the largest house on our 70's middle class street and managed to snag the largest kid bedroom. By all predictions, tiny should not have been in my living standards vocabulary.
It all started with a cat.
Yes. A cat. I'm one of those people who enjoy snuggling warm soft fuzzy things that purr at me and cover me with sticky hair. I'm unashamed. When I was eleven I realized I wanted a cat, really, really badly. So badly, that for two months I would only check out books with cats in them especially if they were purely educational to impress my parents. After some bargaining, I convinced my parents that if I managed to keep my room white glove clean for a solid month, then I could be the proud owner of a tiny kitten. I got two kittens and I proudly took care of their every puke and water need.
That exercise taught me that a clean room was a pleasant room especially when compared to the bed of stuffed animals, clothes, and plastic that used to be my floor. I also learned that if you don't want your shirt to be vomited on, it's better to keep it off the floor.
Years later, I realized that my personal stress level would be great reduced after taking time to reorganize my room. As a creative person, I loved to relocate my furniture and this was more easily done when the room was clean. I also got a sense of pride displaying my hard work to my family members.
Hard work, done well, feels good, after all.
This all contributed to my enjoyment of organizing tons of stuff into boxes. However, I didn't really start to see the benefit of living with less until I worked a couple of summers cleaning out homes for some wealthy friends of my mother. They had big houses. Really big. And it was full to the brim with stuff they hadn't touched in years. My job was to help them get rid of it.
I remember one particular room. It was completely stocked with enough ramen noodles to keep a soup kitchen going for a month. It was bought and stored with the good intention of being a food source in case something bad happened. A noble precaution, except the food hadn't been checked on for so long that three mice had chewed, peed and pooped on every single package. The mice themselves were found dead on top of the crispy noodles. Probably from ramen noodle overdose. Incredibly, they were also expired.
Another house was so littered with tiny random things like paper and beads that hours of work felt like doing nothing at all. I remember sitting in a tiny five by eight work studio and just looking at the stacks of paper, crafts, music charts, and other tiny bits of stuff. The piles of things were stacked higher than my shoulder as I sat on the floor and I thought, "If that tipped over, I could be buried alive, and no one would ever know."
During those summers the question kept popping up over and over, "Who needs this much stuff?" The answer, of course, is always, "Well I do. That's why I bought it. Even if I can't remember why."
I learned a lot about the psychology behind keeping stuff that summer. A lot of the stuff they hadn't touched in years was labeled generally as, "just in case," or, "the project I started, but never finished, but I am going to finish it someday." While, "just in case" can be largely justified in terms of emergency or food storage, I feel like the second one is more emotionally based than logical. Honestly, it just seemed sad. It was a stress that wasn't necessary and it effectively cut off entire rooms from access to those who lived there. Those projects hadn't been touched in years. I knew they weren't going to finish it. They knew they weren't going to finish it. Yet they were content to let that project eat at the back of their "to do" list that is never completed. They were content to walk by open doorways or peak in the drawers of their home and feel the tiny pricks of guilt for not doing what they said they were going to do. Every. Single. Time. For. YEARS.
For some people I guess that works. It might even be a comforting thing. For people like me, it would be like continuing to eat sugar with a bad cavity. I can understand being desensitized to the thing, but that tiny prick of guilt does leave a mark somewhere in the esteem area of the subconscious.
Next reason for liking the tiny life style. I moved. A lot.
We all know moving is a pain. We also all know that moving with a lot of stuff is even more of a pain. Between college semesters, I got really good at downsizing to the bare essentials of living, if not to the bare essentials of play things like board games. The goal was to always pack into as few compartments as possible without overloading anything. Especially, if I knew I was going to be living on a top floor. This was also a time of my life when I began to get a real sense of cost vs the earned dollar. Money, particularly quarters, became extremely valuable. Living in an apartment with six girls who cook and only one fridge also taught me the value of space saving. Note: it's rude to take up fridge space with a pizza box, it's much better to store the pizza in a stack container or a ziplock.
After college, that dollar became even more important. I really wanted to live independently, but I really couldn't see a way clear for me to do it. Then, I learned about the tiny house movement. I was so enchanted with the idea that I bought the first two seasons of Tiny House Nation and spent a month researching composting toilets. My boyfriend at the time was more inclined to talk about general financial gains and design technicalities than to consider actually living in one, but I was hooked. Fiscal responsibility is very important to me. I also loved the idea of travel, of uniqueness, and customization for a smaller price a lot better than living in a house I couldn't afford. In that lifestyle there seemed to be a lot more time for living. I also liked the idea of not having a lot of "stuff" to deal with.
I still am.
Currently, I live in a shared apartment, but I really only use the space in my kitchen, my 8x4 bathroom, and my 8x8 bedroom. I don't really buy stuff. Whenever possible, I get rid of stuff. I moved states and packed all I owned into a tiny Subaru. Recently, I managed to fly with just a carry on back pack for the weekend using the Marie Kondo method of folding. I love how people are getting hooked on this idea that less is more.
There are at least ten different blue prints sketched out in my sketch book with ideas and designs for different rooms and living spaces. I plan to someday live in a tiny house all of my own, whether mobile or solid is yet to be determined. In the meantime. I continue to live in a way that tests myself and my ability to go tiny. Hey, 20-50,000 to build a home is still nothing to sneeze at. If you plan to build a tiny home, it's better to do years of testing first.
Why do I love tiny living? What is the appeal? I grew up in the largest house on our 70's middle class street and managed to snag the largest kid bedroom. By all predictions, tiny should not have been in my living standards vocabulary.
It all started with a cat.
Yes. A cat. I'm one of those people who enjoy snuggling warm soft fuzzy things that purr at me and cover me with sticky hair. I'm unashamed. When I was eleven I realized I wanted a cat, really, really badly. So badly, that for two months I would only check out books with cats in them especially if they were purely educational to impress my parents. After some bargaining, I convinced my parents that if I managed to keep my room white glove clean for a solid month, then I could be the proud owner of a tiny kitten. I got two kittens and I proudly took care of their every puke and water need.
That exercise taught me that a clean room was a pleasant room especially when compared to the bed of stuffed animals, clothes, and plastic that used to be my floor. I also learned that if you don't want your shirt to be vomited on, it's better to keep it off the floor.
Years later, I realized that my personal stress level would be great reduced after taking time to reorganize my room. As a creative person, I loved to relocate my furniture and this was more easily done when the room was clean. I also got a sense of pride displaying my hard work to my family members.
Hard work, done well, feels good, after all.
This all contributed to my enjoyment of organizing tons of stuff into boxes. However, I didn't really start to see the benefit of living with less until I worked a couple of summers cleaning out homes for some wealthy friends of my mother. They had big houses. Really big. And it was full to the brim with stuff they hadn't touched in years. My job was to help them get rid of it.
I remember one particular room. It was completely stocked with enough ramen noodles to keep a soup kitchen going for a month. It was bought and stored with the good intention of being a food source in case something bad happened. A noble precaution, except the food hadn't been checked on for so long that three mice had chewed, peed and pooped on every single package. The mice themselves were found dead on top of the crispy noodles. Probably from ramen noodle overdose. Incredibly, they were also expired.
Another house was so littered with tiny random things like paper and beads that hours of work felt like doing nothing at all. I remember sitting in a tiny five by eight work studio and just looking at the stacks of paper, crafts, music charts, and other tiny bits of stuff. The piles of things were stacked higher than my shoulder as I sat on the floor and I thought, "If that tipped over, I could be buried alive, and no one would ever know."
During those summers the question kept popping up over and over, "Who needs this much stuff?" The answer, of course, is always, "Well I do. That's why I bought it. Even if I can't remember why."
I learned a lot about the psychology behind keeping stuff that summer. A lot of the stuff they hadn't touched in years was labeled generally as, "just in case," or, "the project I started, but never finished, but I am going to finish it someday." While, "just in case" can be largely justified in terms of emergency or food storage, I feel like the second one is more emotionally based than logical. Honestly, it just seemed sad. It was a stress that wasn't necessary and it effectively cut off entire rooms from access to those who lived there. Those projects hadn't been touched in years. I knew they weren't going to finish it. They knew they weren't going to finish it. Yet they were content to let that project eat at the back of their "to do" list that is never completed. They were content to walk by open doorways or peak in the drawers of their home and feel the tiny pricks of guilt for not doing what they said they were going to do. Every. Single. Time. For. YEARS.
For some people I guess that works. It might even be a comforting thing. For people like me, it would be like continuing to eat sugar with a bad cavity. I can understand being desensitized to the thing, but that tiny prick of guilt does leave a mark somewhere in the esteem area of the subconscious.
Next reason for liking the tiny life style. I moved. A lot.
We all know moving is a pain. We also all know that moving with a lot of stuff is even more of a pain. Between college semesters, I got really good at downsizing to the bare essentials of living, if not to the bare essentials of play things like board games. The goal was to always pack into as few compartments as possible without overloading anything. Especially, if I knew I was going to be living on a top floor. This was also a time of my life when I began to get a real sense of cost vs the earned dollar. Money, particularly quarters, became extremely valuable. Living in an apartment with six girls who cook and only one fridge also taught me the value of space saving. Note: it's rude to take up fridge space with a pizza box, it's much better to store the pizza in a stack container or a ziplock.
After college, that dollar became even more important. I really wanted to live independently, but I really couldn't see a way clear for me to do it. Then, I learned about the tiny house movement. I was so enchanted with the idea that I bought the first two seasons of Tiny House Nation and spent a month researching composting toilets. My boyfriend at the time was more inclined to talk about general financial gains and design technicalities than to consider actually living in one, but I was hooked. Fiscal responsibility is very important to me. I also loved the idea of travel, of uniqueness, and customization for a smaller price a lot better than living in a house I couldn't afford. In that lifestyle there seemed to be a lot more time for living. I also liked the idea of not having a lot of "stuff" to deal with.
I still am.
Currently, I live in a shared apartment, but I really only use the space in my kitchen, my 8x4 bathroom, and my 8x8 bedroom. I don't really buy stuff. Whenever possible, I get rid of stuff. I moved states and packed all I owned into a tiny Subaru. Recently, I managed to fly with just a carry on back pack for the weekend using the Marie Kondo method of folding. I love how people are getting hooked on this idea that less is more.
There are at least ten different blue prints sketched out in my sketch book with ideas and designs for different rooms and living spaces. I plan to someday live in a tiny house all of my own, whether mobile or solid is yet to be determined. In the meantime. I continue to live in a way that tests myself and my ability to go tiny. Hey, 20-50,000 to build a home is still nothing to sneeze at. If you plan to build a tiny home, it's better to do years of testing first.
Journeys into the World of Marie Kondo
By now, I'm sure everyone has heard about the book, "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing." by Marie Kondo.
On a whim, I picked it up from Barnes and Noble last week. Glad I waited as long as I did, because it was on a 30% off sale. Can we say easy $10? Like most self-help books, it's not the kind of book that is designed to be read straight through. There is an index, the advice is straight forward, and the writing is clear, but if you're looking for a quick references on how to fold a particular article of clothing, its easier to find examples on YouTube. I'd consider it more of a philosophy book that focuses on "why" than a reference guide that tells you "how."
I began a pattern of cleaning and reading then cleaning again. Each section of the book is short enough that you don't loose motivation between the pages. The philosophy was the most interesting part of the book. Eastern philosophy is full of giving respect to things that most westerners wouldn't even think of. Still, that act of giving respect, creates discipline and an environment where things last longer and relationships are deeper. The closest western equivalent to this philosophy would be living with constant appreciation and gratitude. This book supports that assumption. Marie Kondo teaches that it is better for things to be used, than to go unused. That folding clothes in respectful ways makes them last longer. That getting rid of items that aren't worn out is actually a good thing. And as all tiny livers know, less is so often much more.
So far, I've gotten rid of an astonishing three bags of donated clothing. I swear I didn't think I had many clothes to begin with, much less three bags worth of clothes that didn't inspire happiness. My closet suddenly went from not having enough hangers, to having hangers with nothing to do. I'm a little scared to tackle the bookshelf, but that's what's going to happen next. My room already looks a hundred times better.
This exercise has also got me thinking. I don't own much. I don't need much. However, would what I currently own fit into a tiny house space? If I had to suddenly make the jump into a tiny house even smaller than I dream about, would I even fit? Before Marie Kondo, I'd have to say no. At the very least, If I did suddenly have to change apartments again, I know it will be an easier move.
Food for thought, is there such a condition as chronically buying tiny stuff you think you need and then turning around three months later to donate it all? I kinda feel like that's how I live. My next goal is to live on a budget of just 55 dollars a week. At least twenty of that is going to gas and this will not include rent, so that will leave me about 35 a week for food and needs. Now that I'm posting about it, I will need to be accountable.
Happy Tiny Living Everybody
On a whim, I picked it up from Barnes and Noble last week. Glad I waited as long as I did, because it was on a 30% off sale. Can we say easy $10? Like most self-help books, it's not the kind of book that is designed to be read straight through. There is an index, the advice is straight forward, and the writing is clear, but if you're looking for a quick references on how to fold a particular article of clothing, its easier to find examples on YouTube. I'd consider it more of a philosophy book that focuses on "why" than a reference guide that tells you "how."
I began a pattern of cleaning and reading then cleaning again. Each section of the book is short enough that you don't loose motivation between the pages. The philosophy was the most interesting part of the book. Eastern philosophy is full of giving respect to things that most westerners wouldn't even think of. Still, that act of giving respect, creates discipline and an environment where things last longer and relationships are deeper. The closest western equivalent to this philosophy would be living with constant appreciation and gratitude. This book supports that assumption. Marie Kondo teaches that it is better for things to be used, than to go unused. That folding clothes in respectful ways makes them last longer. That getting rid of items that aren't worn out is actually a good thing. And as all tiny livers know, less is so often much more.
So far, I've gotten rid of an astonishing three bags of donated clothing. I swear I didn't think I had many clothes to begin with, much less three bags worth of clothes that didn't inspire happiness. My closet suddenly went from not having enough hangers, to having hangers with nothing to do. I'm a little scared to tackle the bookshelf, but that's what's going to happen next. My room already looks a hundred times better.
This exercise has also got me thinking. I don't own much. I don't need much. However, would what I currently own fit into a tiny house space? If I had to suddenly make the jump into a tiny house even smaller than I dream about, would I even fit? Before Marie Kondo, I'd have to say no. At the very least, If I did suddenly have to change apartments again, I know it will be an easier move.
Food for thought, is there such a condition as chronically buying tiny stuff you think you need and then turning around three months later to donate it all? I kinda feel like that's how I live. My next goal is to live on a budget of just 55 dollars a week. At least twenty of that is going to gas and this will not include rent, so that will leave me about 35 a week for food and needs. Now that I'm posting about it, I will need to be accountable.
Happy Tiny Living Everybody
Junk Literature Addiction
Dime novel quality works have been around since the end of the 19th century. These stories are the loose and fanciful creations from people who don't care what story they put together so long as it is entertaining and profitable. Today, dime novel quality stories permeate our libraries, movies, and television shows.
This is what wikipedia has to say about them.
"In the modern age, "dime novel" has become a term to describe any quickly written, lurid potboiler and as such is generally used as a pejorative to describe a sensationalized yet superficial piece of written work."
Those are fighting words. So why do we ingest such terrible literature?
It would be easier to start with what makes good literature. In my humble opinion, good literature is about potential. Good literature is literature that has a voice to reveal truth. It says something about the condition of humanity and/or its place in the universe. It gives way to deeper thinking and possibly real world application or change. Change isn't a required component, but there definitely has to be some inspired reflection on the truths as they are revealed.
That said, not everyone is going to have brilliant "ah ha's!" when they read something touted as good literature. Still, the potential for depth has to be there to be considered literature.
Compare that to the dime novel.
The dime novel is like my experience with Twilight; it's a short lived enjoyment that inspires no depth or internal awareness. You don't feel compelled to re-read these because you already got all you could get on the first go around. You're welcome to still re-read them, but the second experience could never be as good as the first. It's a book that says absolutely nothing, but gives you a thrill anyway.
Most genres strive to have a mixture of the two and many succeed. Shows like Avatar, the Last Airbender, Doctor Who, and Sherlock give people something to think about while at the same time being highly entertaining. They are often modernly called, "smart shows."
So why are there so many stories in the world, but only a fraction of them are worth the time?
Quantity and Demand
The people demand a thousand channels with a thousand stories to spend all their spare time on at any given moment of the day. The newer, the more exciting, the better. The people also demand new books to be released almost as fast as they can read them. This puts a lot of pressure on the companies that produce the entertainment to churn out products almost as fast as they can come up with them. There is no time for the depth of literature to sink into the creative process before the lights are out and the presses have stopped running. Shows like Sherlock can bypass this problem by taking three years to hammer out fine details, but most stories don't have that luxury.
Addiction to "New"
New stories are exciting. Repeating old experiences in a new format is both comforting and entertaining. When the subject is superficial though, we have no reason to stay and many reasons to feel bored. We ingest dime novel quality novels so often that we've fallen into the habit of excited anticipation, consumption, rejection, and impatience for the next big story. We've followed this pattern as a society so much that we hardly even notice that the "new story" of today is the same crap story of yesterday.
Personal Test: Do you have a new favorite book or story that you experienced last year? What was it? Have you revisited it since you first found it? How do you feel about it today. Now that you're aware of the cycle, would you go back and enjoy what you once had, or is it not worth the time to re-experience?
Anti-Reflection
Our society is currently molded on the belief that if you don't think about it, its not your problem and nothing is wrong. The antithesis is saying if you don't constantly think about something you don't actually care, but that's a different social problem.
Literature has the nasty habit of bringing deep thinking and reflection to the foreground; which provides an environment where you see things that you'd rather not see or deal with. One of the nastiest truths literature likes to bring up is the myth of the happy ending. There's this modern myth that life has to be good. There's a finish line that if you reach it, it will mark the beginning of eternal happiness and contentment. If life isn't good, then something is wrong, you're not on track to the golden finish line. Therefore, if something is wrong, then we have a responsibility to "fix it" or suffer forever. Literature often teaches that life isn't always good and that its normal to experience bad things. Literature also teaches that some things just can't be fixed, life isn't perfect, and that's totally normal. It's very different from the "disney-fied" messages of our youth and very uncomfortable to us because we're not used to acknowledging that side of life.
Kinda sad when you think about it. Life and adulthood does eventually happen. Wouldn't it be better to be prepared for it? I'm not saying, cast out all hope, but at least have more realistic expectations for what life is like. It is better to live with meaning, than to live for the happy ending.
If you've ever read Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, then you probably couldn't help but notice how many today are like the character of the wife. The fact that's she's introduced as a suicide risk is telling on how living without meaning takes a tole on the human spirit. She was willing to go into debt to increase her experience in fantasy and perceived happiness. She would rather continue living in her meaningless make believe world with her "family" of entertaining tv personalities than deal with the internal problems of emptiness she knows is there, but doesn't acknowledge. Whenever her husband tried to get her to engage in any kind of conversation that had depth, she avoided and rejected him.
Conclusion
Personally, as a writer, I've always wanted to be someone who said something. I grew up on dime novels and better. I enjoyed the stories about dragons and fairy queens, but the stories I enjoyed the most had dragons and inspired self-reflection. My goal is to be the kind of writer to who can trick dime novel addicts into a state of reflection and reveal truth among the spoils of entertainment. If my name is going to be on the cover, I want it to be a work I can be proud of. Something that will be loved and will last at least a few decades. That's why I refuse to publish until I am absolutely ready. My expectations are high, I'll probably still fail, but at least I tried.
This is what wikipedia has to say about them.
"In the modern age, "dime novel" has become a term to describe any quickly written, lurid potboiler and as such is generally used as a pejorative to describe a sensationalized yet superficial piece of written work."
Those are fighting words. So why do we ingest such terrible literature?
It would be easier to start with what makes good literature. In my humble opinion, good literature is about potential. Good literature is literature that has a voice to reveal truth. It says something about the condition of humanity and/or its place in the universe. It gives way to deeper thinking and possibly real world application or change. Change isn't a required component, but there definitely has to be some inspired reflection on the truths as they are revealed.
That said, not everyone is going to have brilliant "ah ha's!" when they read something touted as good literature. Still, the potential for depth has to be there to be considered literature.
Compare that to the dime novel.
The dime novel is like my experience with Twilight; it's a short lived enjoyment that inspires no depth or internal awareness. You don't feel compelled to re-read these because you already got all you could get on the first go around. You're welcome to still re-read them, but the second experience could never be as good as the first. It's a book that says absolutely nothing, but gives you a thrill anyway.
Most genres strive to have a mixture of the two and many succeed. Shows like Avatar, the Last Airbender, Doctor Who, and Sherlock give people something to think about while at the same time being highly entertaining. They are often modernly called, "smart shows."
So why are there so many stories in the world, but only a fraction of them are worth the time?
Quantity and Demand
The people demand a thousand channels with a thousand stories to spend all their spare time on at any given moment of the day. The newer, the more exciting, the better. The people also demand new books to be released almost as fast as they can read them. This puts a lot of pressure on the companies that produce the entertainment to churn out products almost as fast as they can come up with them. There is no time for the depth of literature to sink into the creative process before the lights are out and the presses have stopped running. Shows like Sherlock can bypass this problem by taking three years to hammer out fine details, but most stories don't have that luxury.
Addiction to "New"
New stories are exciting. Repeating old experiences in a new format is both comforting and entertaining. When the subject is superficial though, we have no reason to stay and many reasons to feel bored. We ingest dime novel quality novels so often that we've fallen into the habit of excited anticipation, consumption, rejection, and impatience for the next big story. We've followed this pattern as a society so much that we hardly even notice that the "new story" of today is the same crap story of yesterday.
Personal Test: Do you have a new favorite book or story that you experienced last year? What was it? Have you revisited it since you first found it? How do you feel about it today. Now that you're aware of the cycle, would you go back and enjoy what you once had, or is it not worth the time to re-experience?
Anti-Reflection
Our society is currently molded on the belief that if you don't think about it, its not your problem and nothing is wrong. The antithesis is saying if you don't constantly think about something you don't actually care, but that's a different social problem.
Literature has the nasty habit of bringing deep thinking and reflection to the foreground; which provides an environment where you see things that you'd rather not see or deal with. One of the nastiest truths literature likes to bring up is the myth of the happy ending. There's this modern myth that life has to be good. There's a finish line that if you reach it, it will mark the beginning of eternal happiness and contentment. If life isn't good, then something is wrong, you're not on track to the golden finish line. Therefore, if something is wrong, then we have a responsibility to "fix it" or suffer forever. Literature often teaches that life isn't always good and that its normal to experience bad things. Literature also teaches that some things just can't be fixed, life isn't perfect, and that's totally normal. It's very different from the "disney-fied" messages of our youth and very uncomfortable to us because we're not used to acknowledging that side of life.
Kinda sad when you think about it. Life and adulthood does eventually happen. Wouldn't it be better to be prepared for it? I'm not saying, cast out all hope, but at least have more realistic expectations for what life is like. It is better to live with meaning, than to live for the happy ending.
If you've ever read Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, then you probably couldn't help but notice how many today are like the character of the wife. The fact that's she's introduced as a suicide risk is telling on how living without meaning takes a tole on the human spirit. She was willing to go into debt to increase her experience in fantasy and perceived happiness. She would rather continue living in her meaningless make believe world with her "family" of entertaining tv personalities than deal with the internal problems of emptiness she knows is there, but doesn't acknowledge. Whenever her husband tried to get her to engage in any kind of conversation that had depth, she avoided and rejected him.
Conclusion
Personally, as a writer, I've always wanted to be someone who said something. I grew up on dime novels and better. I enjoyed the stories about dragons and fairy queens, but the stories I enjoyed the most had dragons and inspired self-reflection. My goal is to be the kind of writer to who can trick dime novel addicts into a state of reflection and reveal truth among the spoils of entertainment. If my name is going to be on the cover, I want it to be a work I can be proud of. Something that will be loved and will last at least a few decades. That's why I refuse to publish until I am absolutely ready. My expectations are high, I'll probably still fail, but at least I tried.
How to Freewrite
Freewriting is a tool used by writers to break up their walls. It is a gam;e with rules that you continue writing no matter the consequences. NOt matter the mistakes you make as you type. This createsand environment of freedom where the editors side of your brian isn't allowed to come out until the writing is done. But how does bbreewriting start? As you can see, I am typing very fast to prove the point that you dcontinue on no matter the mistakes that are matde. That is the firest rule.
The second rule, is that you canno't backspaece, fix or correct any mistakes that you see no matter what. The editor isn't allowed to even breath on a free write. This gives the writer the mental creative freesdom to just be and create without getting bogged down in details.
The third rule is to keep moving forward. Whatever thought that comesinto your head is valid even if it has nothing to do with the work you wish to create. If you have no thoughts, write about how you have not thoughts. Foe example, I only came up with three rules. I'm trying to think of more, but there really isn't any. Free writing isn't complicated and isn't meant to be really structured. You don't even need splits in paragraphs or tabs at the beginning of each thought. This is the mental massage that breaks holding patterns in your writing and allows you space to breath. Now I really want some cheese. Cheese is delicious. It is yellow, sharp is best. I hear that real cheese is white and better for you, it's probably true. Have you ever heard of cows giving orange milk? THat alone sounds gross, yet we like yellow cheese. I wonder if my character likes yellow cheese or white cheese. My back is wondering if this is a good position to type in.
She is a character that likes to breathe and find peace. Where is the excitment in that? If you have a character who likes peace so much, they have to be put into a whole lot of traumatizing experiences just to be interesting. On the otherhand, if you have a handful of a character in a forced peaceful setting, it can feel like a waist, but could it also be the grounds for an actual piece of literature?
Fahrenheit 451 style story that expresses that there is a time to fight and a time to rest and both moments are hard.
At this point I would usually launch into a made up scene that would give me a sense of my story. I'd still be free writing until the scene is done. Then I'd let the editor in just enough to see if the thought has potential. Hope you all enjoyed this example.
The second rule, is that you canno't backspaece, fix or correct any mistakes that you see no matter what. The editor isn't allowed to even breath on a free write. This gives the writer the mental creative freesdom to just be and create without getting bogged down in details.
The third rule is to keep moving forward. Whatever thought that comesinto your head is valid even if it has nothing to do with the work you wish to create. If you have no thoughts, write about how you have not thoughts. Foe example, I only came up with three rules. I'm trying to think of more, but there really isn't any. Free writing isn't complicated and isn't meant to be really structured. You don't even need splits in paragraphs or tabs at the beginning of each thought. This is the mental massage that breaks holding patterns in your writing and allows you space to breath. Now I really want some cheese. Cheese is delicious. It is yellow, sharp is best. I hear that real cheese is white and better for you, it's probably true. Have you ever heard of cows giving orange milk? THat alone sounds gross, yet we like yellow cheese. I wonder if my character likes yellow cheese or white cheese. My back is wondering if this is a good position to type in.
She is a character that likes to breathe and find peace. Where is the excitment in that? If you have a character who likes peace so much, they have to be put into a whole lot of traumatizing experiences just to be interesting. On the otherhand, if you have a handful of a character in a forced peaceful setting, it can feel like a waist, but could it also be the grounds for an actual piece of literature?
Fahrenheit 451 style story that expresses that there is a time to fight and a time to rest and both moments are hard.
At this point I would usually launch into a made up scene that would give me a sense of my story. I'd still be free writing until the scene is done. Then I'd let the editor in just enough to see if the thought has potential. Hope you all enjoyed this example.
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