Famous Last Words: Week 3

Things are picking up! (As if they were slow before...)

The crazy month of January may be over, but February doesn't seem like it will be any slower. This week, I have a test, a quiz, a video day in dance, and I'll start actually writing my novella (5,000 words a week—for one class—here I come!). That's not to mention all the reading and writing from this class.

I am proud of what I accomplished this past week, though. I got my outline ready, kept up with my homework, made a lot of progress at work with our leads, (I feel like I'm finally getting into a groove there), and I cleaned my house. I also somehow managed to spend time with Josh over the weekend, which is always nice, and something I didn't think I would have time for these past few days.

I'm actually pretty excited about my storybook. I didn't think I would be, since it seemed like a big project I would have to squeeze into my schedule, but when I view it as writing four interesting stories (without the stricter guidelines of my PW class), it sounds fun. I love stories; I always have, and this is just an opportunity to explore that passion. I'm interested in learning about the historical mysteries, too, especially the Scottish Lighthouse. My dad's side of the family is from that area originally, and I've always wanted to visit Scotland or Ireland. Maybe I could tie the story into my lineage...

I'm also pretty proud of how I've handled moving out/in. This semester is the first time I've lived "on my own" since freshman year in the dorms. I lived with my parents the other semesters to save money, and I didn't have to worry about buying groceries or things like toilet paper. But it's the start of my fourth week as an "independent" (after my parents and grandparents helped a lot with the initial move-in expenses), and I think I've done a good job of budgeting for groceries, cooking, and taking care of things in general. I've always been independent, though. Even when I lived with my parents, I did all the cleaning, and cooked quite a bit for myself anyway. So that part isn't new to me.

(My first batch of homemade popcorn at my house! I eat a lot of popcorn, always stove-made, so this was a pretty monumental moment.) 

Anyway, it's been fun living with my best friend again, and living with two other college students (who are gone or studying a lot) has actually helped me be more productive. At home, I talked to my parents, spent time with my little sister, we would eat together, someone would need help with something... all good things, but not super conducive to studying. At my house, Kessa and I spend a lot of time in our own rooms, getting things done. With my parents, that made me feel like I was missing out, but now, since that's what we're all doing, it's a lot easier.

And with that, here's to another week of hard-core study/work sessions at home or the library! :p

Storybook Styles: Mysteries of History

Topic: My Storybook is going to be an exploration of historical mysteries. There are so many places and events in our world that no one knows the truth about, so I'm going to pick four and explain them with a story. I've chosen to write about the lost city of Kitezh, Russia, a fortress that defended itself from an attack by the Mongols by sinking into the sea. (I might write something about people with magic who had to sacrifice their very existence in the world to keep their secret hidden.) My second story will be about Winchester House, a mansion in San Jose California with hidden passages, awkward staircases, and many stories about its peculiar owner, Sarah Winchester. I've also toyed with the idea of doing all four stories over the Winchester House, but I think it'll be fun to explore multiple historical mysteries. My third story (one I'm really excited about) will pull from the legends explaining the mysterious disappearance of three lighthouse men at the Eilean Mor Lighthouse of the Flannan Isles in Scotland. I'd like to read The Lighthouse: The Mystery of the Eilean Mor Lighthouse Keepers, by Keith McClousky, but it's not in any of the libraries in Norman, so I may have to rely on stories/theories from the internet for most of my inspiration, which is fine with me. I'd rather have less of other people's ideas persuading my imagination when I write the stories. My last story will explain the origin of Stonehenge. These theories provide some interesting inspiration, but I'd also like to use some facts to support my story.

 

(Lost city of Kitezh)

Bibliography
1. Pillar of the Sky, by Cecelia Holland (1943)
2. The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevroniya by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov (1905)

Through the Eyes of Reepicheep
The Chronicles of Narnia is one of my favorite series, and Reepicheep, the courageous, tenacious Chief Mouse of Narnia, member of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, is one of my favorite characters. He'll fight a beast twice his size, and he travels to the end of the earth and on to Aslan's country, so naturally, he's the type of mouse who would have seen everything. I would love to tell stories from each of these places with him as the narrator, and as a secondary character. His time in the city of Kitezh could be where he learns his sea navigation (by force, as it sinks), which could lead him on to the lighthouse in Scotland... or I might go in chronological order of each event in history. The stories wouldn't necessarily tie together, other than the fact that Reepicheep adventure'd through them all. After all, he's the type of mouse who would have such adventures.

Random Anthology
Because all of these stories have no connection other than their mysterious place in history, I may write them all as separate short stories with separate characters. I like the idea of telling a Winchester House story from Sarah Winchester's point of view, or from her submissive and perpetually irritated butler's perspective. I'd like to write the lighthouse story from the perspective of an apologetic lighthouse worker, who reveals why the three men left their stations and their family to journey into unknown worlds, or something like that. I think I'd like to do a Stonehenge story from the perspective of a little boy or girl, observing her family or tribe's journey to make the structure. I might write the story of Kitezh from the perspective of someone we already know, like a popular book character or famous person, who was once one of the magical people of Kitezh who had to sink the city to save his/her identity.

God's Journal
Another idea would be to explain each story from the perspective of an omniscient ruler writing in his journal. I picture God watching these stories unfold, and sharing in his private diary why the truths of these tales will never be known on Earth. He's dying to tell the stories, but for some reason, they must all remain a secret. (I'm tempted to "reveal" the location of the Garden of Eden, but I don't even want to go there. Too complicated. Too unknowable.)

Inquisitive Kids are Great! Sometimes.
Another way I could reveal these mysteries would be by explaining them to a small child. I picture someone like my sister (but younger) learning about these historical mysteries and suddenly asking an oblivious parent, "Daddy, who built Stonehenge? What happened to the city of Kitties?" And the father stopping what he's doing and saying, "Well, funny that you ask..." and either pretending to have been there, had relatives who were present at the event, or just making up a story. It could start with their family visiting the Winchester House on vacation, and when they get in the car, the son asks, "Why did the house have so many staircases?" and so the dad makes up a reason. From there, the son buys a book on their road trip and asks about more events in history, or the dad just makes some up.

Storytelling: Week 3: Cooking the Brought-Home Bacon

 (Cheese: it's what's for dinner)

Leah tightened the warm barrel of the curling iron around her long, fiery red hair. The familiar “beep-beep-beep” rang in the laundry room and she set the iron on the bathroom counter. She studied her face in the mirror—lashes mascara’d, lips glossed—the fresh face of a devoted wife.

“Leah!” John’s deep voice called down the hall.

She spritzed a shower of Windex across the counter and wiped it down with a paper towel from under the sink. “I’m in here, honey!”

John walked into their bedroom and tossed his jacket on the heavily-pillowed bed. 

Leah watched him, waiting, her heart thumping with a glimmer of pride. Since John had left at seven-o-clock that morning, she’d scoured the house—scrubbing the floors, wiping the windows, cleaning out the refrigerator—she’d even delivered John’s favorite suit to the dry cleaners, just in case he needed it soon. The house was practically sparkling, and she’d had just enough time to shower and fix her hair before he came home. 

“Do we have anything quick I can eat?” he asked, a thick line forming between his brows. “I had to skip lunch today and I’m starving.”

Leah’s smile faltered. She hadn’t had time to make dinner—she’d spent the whole day cleaning. “No, not that I can think of…” she glanced expectantly around the room, then back at him, wondering if he’d notice the extra light beaming through the windows, or the glimmer on their polished wood floors. “There’s some almonds in the pantry? Or a Kind bar?”

John raised his eyebrows at her and sighed. “That’s fine. I’ll just wait.” He sunk into the recliner at the corner of the room.

Leah looked at him quizzically. She’d thought they’d just eat whatever they could find in the fridge tonight, or order in. 

“You’re not making dinner?” he asked.

She pictured herself in the kitchen, stirring mindlessly, heat from the stove pricking at her forehead… and standing, for yet another hour of her tiring day. 

She cleared her throat and put on her most sympathetic face. “Sorry, no.” She sat on the edge of the bed and folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve had a long day; I don’t think I’m up to it.”

John hoisted himself from the chair and brushed past her. “You’ve had a long day,” he muttered. 

Leah frowned, her body stiffening. John continued from their closet. 

“Mark is still in Tahiti, so I had to pick up his slack, the Johnson firm denied our offer, and—” Hangers clanged against the rod. “—Roy won’t get off my back about the Matawok case.” He stepped back into their bedroom wearing an old college t-shirt and sweatpants. “Traffic was awful. My trainer was off today, so I had to workout with Jerry.” He grimaced. “I could have used a relaxing day at home like you had.” 

Leah suppressed a chuckle.  “Yeah,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. They were dark and dazed, tired. “Relaxing.”

 *

The next day, John woke to an empty bed. On his nightstand, a lime green sticky note read, 

“You were right. I COULD use a relaxing day. Feel free to take over the house while I’m gone. Roy gave you the week off for vacation. Love, Leah.”

Puzzled, he called his wife, who confirmed that she had rented a hotel so she could relax while he relaxed at home, just like he’d wanted. John hung up the phone and went back to sleep. 

At eight-o-clock, the doorbell rang. 

“Hello,” a weathered-looking man in overalls said when John opened the door. “I’m here to fix your window? And your wife said something about the faucet, and a couple places in the wall that needed to be patched up.”

“Oh,” John said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stepping aside to let the man in. He hadn’t had coffee yet. Leah usually made it when she got up. “Have at it.”

“Which one?” the old man asked.

“Which what?” 

“Window. Which window is jammed?” 

“Oh. I, uh… I don’t know. Leah...” he trailed off. “Can you check them?” 

“Check all the windows?” the man’s eyes widened, scanning their large living room. Then he grinned. “Sure, I can!”

John sighed in relief.

“—but it’ll cost ya an extra fifty!”

John rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet. 

*

At lunchtime, John scanned the contents of the fridge—ground beef, uncooked mushrooms, heavy cream, some cheese, salad dressing. He picked a block of cheese from the drawer and cut a few hunks of it onto a plate. 

On Friday, John got dressed—or, tried to. All his t-shirts were dirty, and he couldn’t find matches to any of his socks. He pulled on a black one and a navy one, his tennis shoes, and headed out to the yard to mow—but the mower was out of gas. He cursed, knowing he’d put gas on the list a few days ago.

…but Leah usually did the shopping. 

That night, he sat on the couch and scanned his email, where he found an overdue notice from the electric company. 

“That’s impossible…” he mumbled. “We always pay the bills on time…” 

Well, he corrected himself, Leah handles that. 

He closed his laptop and drummed his fingers on its lid, glancing around the room. 

Was it brighter in here? 

He ran his finger along the end table, the one Leah had sanded and repainted last Tuesday afternoon. It was beautiful, and her work had saved them a couple hundred bucks at the furniture store. 

He reached for his cellphone and tapped his wife’s name. He licked his lips as the rings echoed in his ear. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby, how’s your week been?”

“It’s been great!” He could practically hear her smiling through the phone. “How’s yours?”

John sighed. “Oh, it’s… not so wonderful. Our house isn’t as relaxing as I thought.”

Leah chuckled.

“Come home?”

“Sure thing, baby. But on one condition—you get to make dinner.”

“Deal.” John smiled. “I hope you like cheese.”

Author's Note: I based my story on Aesop's Fable The Belly and the Members (Anonymous, 1867). In this fable, the members of a body (teeth, hands, etc.) complain that they do all the work while the stomach gets all the food. So one day, they decide to stop working (picking up food, chewing food, getting food to the stomach), boycotting the fact that they always work while the stomach does "nothing." They soon realize that without feeding the stomach, they lose out, too. The hands become weak, the mouth is parched, and every part feels miserable because they didn't appreciate the work the stomach was doing before.

I decided to take a modern/human spin on the story and depict the tale of the sometimes-under-appreciated "housewife" or "stay-at-home mom." Some people (their family members included) may think moms or wives who stay at home don't do anything, but in reality, it takes a lot to keep a house running. Paying bills, keeping up with laundry, cleaning, organizing the family's schedules or payments... it can be any number of things. And many times, families become so reliant on their moms or wives, they don't realize all the stress and work this important woman keeps from them. The same could be said of any parent, really. My parents divorced when I was young, so both of them were single parents, and I didn't realize until later all the organizing and planning my dad had to go through just to make sure we made it to school on time and were fed properly...on top of his full-time job.

Reading Diary Week 3: Aesop's Fables, Part II

Aesop's Fables, Anonymous: Part II

The Fox and the Crow: "That will do," said he. "That was all I wanted. In exchange for your cheese I will give you a piece of advice for the future: Do not trust flatterers." — I love the different language styles used by Aesop's animals. The fox, cunning and haughty, says "That will do," and uses phrases like "Good evening, Mistress Crow." So you can reveal a lot about a character just by the way he or she speaks—like Hagrid, in Harry Potter, who uses very broken (Scottish?) English.

In The Crow and the Pitcher, the author repeats the line, "Then he took another pebble and put it into the pitcher," five times. The monotony of the sentences parallels the monotonous and repetitious action of the crow, revealing the bird's patient tenacity through structure of sentences.

The Labourer and the Nightingale: At the end of this tale, a bird caught by a man flies away and tells him, "Don't believe a captive's promise, keep what you have, and don't mourn what is lost forever," because the man has just done all of these things in return for the bird's advice, essentially. But I love the feeling these words of wisdom leave with the reader at that realization—that the bird's captivity and his advice are coming full-circle, in a way... if that makes sense. I like it when authors tie everything together in the end of a story in a way that makes the reader go, "Oooo-oooh!"

(That "aha" moment depicted by this amazing drawing with a pretty interesting backstory) 

At the beginning of The Cock and the Pearl, the author states, "A cock was once strutting up and down the farmyard among the hens when suddenly he espied something shinning amid the straw." This simple sentence is the "disturbance" of the story—the event that makes the reader wonder and makes the character change what he's doing.

—Which brings me to another point—all we know about the cock at this point is that he was walking around with the hens, and from there, we can pretty easily assume that that's something this rooster does all the time. Otherwise, spying something shiny in that area might not have seemed so strange. Aesop used animals to tell many fables, and I think part of the reason is because animals are simple, and don't require much "explanation." Everyone knows that roosters strut among hens, and that's basically all they do. He (or she?) uses animals that don't require complicated backstories because all you need to know about a character is what's important to the story. Sometimes it's hard not to get wrapped up in all the backstory of a great character you imagined, but it's important to remember to start the story with a disturbance and fill in tidbits of useful backstory later, but if it doesn't affect the story, your backstory is just wasted (and potentially boring) words.