Stories

I figured out the end of my story Thursday. After I finished revising the many pages my writing partner had so carefully critiqued (thanks!!!), I jumped to page 260 and realized what I needed to happen. The fact that the realization made me emotional suggests that it's the right way to go.

That isn't to say I'm certain it'll be good or that I don't suffer from near-crippling self-doubt. It's just enough to give me the motivation to keep at it.

Speaking of stories, Andrew Sullivan directed me to this online essay, Story Theory: Confessions of a Literary Darwinist by R. Salvador Reyes. After being moved by a Jackson Pollack painting, Reyes began to wonder why he was moved by art. He explores how humans had "come to love literature and art" and "how evolution has shaped audiences' responses to art." In a nut shell, he realizes that humans seek patterns; we need stories and narratives to make sense of the world around us. Stories help us remember and, thus, survive. The whole essay is worth reading.

Gutter Balls

My boyfriend and I went bowling tonight, just the two of us. We showed up at a crowded bolling alley to find dozens of disappointed Bengals fans (we lost; it was lopsided). A lane was available only after a twenty minute wait. Now, we had never bowled together, so neither knew what to expect. I'm proud to report that I won the first game, with a grand total of 71 points. I lost the second game, even though I got 76 points--my boyfriend got almost twice as many points.

It was a nice change of pace from our usual evenings--movies, games, computers--in that it challenged our coordination and strength more than our minds. Actually, that would be pretty cool: controlling a bowling ball with my mind. Maybe I could even break 100!

Four Christmases

My parents have been divorced most my life; my boyfriend's parents have been divorced most his life. All parents and new spouses live in the Greater Cincinnati area. Hence, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were spent driving up and down I-75 and around 275, going from one house to the next, opening one present after the next. Man was I exhausted by the end, already wondering how we could streamline this next year. Maybe host my own Christmas and invite everyone over? That could be interesting. Especially if I had to decorate. Or bake. Or both.

On second thought, driving around the city to open presents at different houses doesn't sound too bad.

Recommended Reading

A couple months ago a woman asked for reading suggestions. "I love to read," she said, "especially classics." Immediately I asked if she had read "Prodigal Summer," by Barbara Kingsolver.

"I can't stand Barbara Kingsolver," she said.

I was momentarily flummoxed. She loves to read, I thought, but she doesn't love what I love. If she couldn't stand one of my favorite authors, then I feared she would hate anything I recommended. I asked more questions, like what has she read more recently that she enjoyed, and who were some of her favorite authors. I eventually connected her with some titles and authors that, hopefully, she would appreciate.

The other day I received the biggest complement from a friend: she told me she reads books that I suggest on this blog almost exclusively. From the "Hunger Games" trilogy and "Divergent" to "Cutting for Stone" and "Rules of Civility" she's taken my suggestions and, often, has passed the books onto others.

For me, it's always slightly scary recommending a book. What if they don't like it? What if they judge me for liking it? But it's so rewarding when they like it as much as I do.

At the end of December I highlighted some of my favorites from 2011 for the library blog. I think I mentioned most of books here, but feel free to check them out.

I corrupted some coworkers today when I told them about what happens when you google "Santorum." Try it, but don't say I didn't warn you.

Bittersweet Milestone

I recently reached my goal of writing 75,000 words.

Unfortunately my celebration was short-lived; my story isn't finished. All this time, I've been using word count as a goal. When I was starting out, I looked at websites, at the novels I loved, and considered how long they were. Then I settled on a number--75,000--that made sense to me. Then I structured my story and its events with that number in mind.

I had wanted the chapter I'm working on--the chapter that got me over 75,000--to be my last. And part of me wants to tie everything in a neat little bow in a few telling paragraphs. I want to be finished! I want to go back to the beginning and start the revision process! I want to make it better from page one, not be stuck on the end!

But if I end it now, or in the next few pages, the book becomes very melancholy. Don't get me wrong, I love melancholy. I'm often melancholy myself. But I don't want the book, on whole, to be melancholy.

In the mean time, I'm going to keep writing. Even if the ending is different than I'd planned, even if I have to write another three chapters. Focus on telling a good story and, hopefully, everything else will fall into place.

By the way, I meet with my writing partner this evening, after a break of almost a month--I couldn't be happier. I've missed getting feedback and hearing a trusted voice saying, "This is good! Keep going!" or even "This needs work" or "This is unclear."

Flipping into the Playoffs

The Bengals are in the playoffs! They didn't play particularly well yesterday; in fact, they lost. But enough other teams lost that it didn't matter. I'm just excited that they'll play one more game. The national reporters note that it's only the third time the Bengals have made the playoffs in the past eighteen years--but they don't mention that it's also the third time in the past seven, and the second time in the past three.

(Picture shows wide receiver Jerome Simpson flipping into the end zone during their December 23 win against the Arizona Cardinals. GIF Via Mocksession)