tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15876114325137470312024-03-08T16:22:30.222-08:00Story in Your EyesRuthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-53643181605557590512012-03-29T20:06:00.002-07:002012-03-29T20:38:07.078-07:00retrospectiveI realized today at work, while writing expiration dates on bottles of syrup, that it has been three months since my birthday. Not that significant, except that I've been marking that as the date when this downward spiral started. Or maybe the last day before the spiral. Whichever.<div><br /></div><div>That day began so well. I felt good when I woke up. Happy, if tentatively so. For the greater part of that day, in fact, I felt like things were going to be ok, because I was starting to make them ok. I was moving on. I was doing well, and would do better.</div><div><br /></div><div>Less than three weeks later things had deteriorated so far that I decided to move across the country in a last-ditch effort to salvage some part of my life. How the fuck did that happen? Something changed, practically overnight, and I don't even know what it was. Now it's three months later and when I have good days I'm too afraid to say that maybe I'm finally starting that ascent back into health and contentment, because look at how fast everything went to hell the last time I said that.</div><div><br /></div><div>Three months. That's a quarter of an entire year. A long time. A short time. Long enough for life to change completely. Hell... one night is enough time for that. And once it changes, it doesn't go back. You can't erase things and pretend they never happened. You can't "go back to normal." You can't unlearn what the experience taught you, no matter how much you try to ignore it. You can't go back to believing things you don't believe in anymore.</div><div><br /></div><div>That was my afternoon. Mostly a reality check, which I'm trying to use as fuel to keep going forward instead of letting it be weight keeping me where I am. I'm not sure what happened three months ago - not sure if there was one catalytic thought that totally changed my mindset and shot me down, or if it was a combination of many things I could readily identify, but won't right here. I'm also not sure what's going to happen tomorrow, except that I'm going to see a doctor and trying not to be too freaked out about it. Also not sure what I'm trying to write about here.</div><div><br /></div><div>I guess the only thought to close with is that if the next three months bring changes as drastic as the last three, I hope they're improvements. There's no going back to three months ago, or even eight months ago. I think... I might need to redefine happiness, because the old definition doesn't seem attainable anymore. Then I can steer there, to the new version of being happy, and it won't be like anywhere I've been before, but it might be someplace worth being.</div><div><br /></div><div>I should not blog at night. I don't think that made any sense at all.</div><div><br /></div><div>Good night.</div>Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-87391219619414330522012-03-21T19:12:00.003-07:002012-03-21T19:33:33.407-07:00another step in the long road<div><span>I believe in being genuine, especially when it comes to dealing with mental illness. This is mostly because reading about other people who have the courage to be open about their weaknesses has given me strength to deal with mine.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I also believe in guarding my own privacy... and I don’t always strike the best balance between openness and privacy, especially when it comes to being online. I know I’ve gone too far in each direction more than once, depending on my emotions at the time. That’s why I’m sure it won’t come as a surprise to anyone when I say that I’m depressed, and struggling toward recovery.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>At least, <i>some</i> days I struggle. Most days I just survive. Today I have struggled, though, at least a little bit. Let’s see if I can talk about it without skewing that line between genuine and private.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I went to a counseling appointment today. It took an absurd amount of time to find a good therapist once I arrived here in New Jersey, but that’s a different drama. I have one now, thanks to the timely intervention of a good friend.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I was late by a couple minutes, and lucky it wasn’t more, because in a moment of distraction while I thought about the upcoming session, I got on the highway going toward work instead of toward Route 1, and had to waste time turning around. Then I spent most of the drive being really annoyed with myself over that mistake and trying to gauge whether I could make up the time on the road, arguing with myself in my head: “Remember that time you made it from Livingston campus to the Pin Oak house in 21 minutes? This isn’t even as far.” “Do you know how <i>fast</i> I was going that time? Also it was night. Also the roads are wet, and there's the little fact that I <i>spun the car out</i> three weeks ago...”</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Anyway, I got there, and a good thing I did. See… well, I wish I could adequately explain just how frustrating this has been. “Frustrating” isn’t even the right word. Events, or lack of them, more accurately, have contributed to this growing sense of despair, feeding from that into conviction that things will never be all right. So every day I tell myself, “Hold on a little bit longer. There’s something you haven’t tried yet, and you have to try everything. Wait to see a psychiatrist. Wait for a prescription. Wait for the effects to kick in, wait to see if it makes a difference… even though it doesn’t feel like it’s going to make a difference, wait and see if it does.” And I wait… but so many days in a row bring me no closer than I was before to any of those steps, and the weight gets a little heavier… the cloud gets a little denser… and I have to argue with people about whether what I’m waiting for is even necessary.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I want another word for despair, and I don’t even have the energy to stop and think of one.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Today, I hoped and expected to get a name from my therapist. A number I could call. Somebody I could say I was referred to, so at least I could have that much confidence that I was going to the right place.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I got the name, and more. My therapist started to ask if I was going to make the call, then stopped and asked if I would like her to call, right then. And then she dialed, got in touch with somebody right away, and made sure that I’ll have an appointment next Friday.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I can’t tell you how relieved I was, for so many reasons. Not just that I have an appointment now, although that’s a big one. I’m also relieved that somebody actively supports my choice to pursue this option; that someone agrees not only that I have the right to make that choice, but that it very well might be the right choice to make; that someone was willing and offered to take on such a simple task that nevertheless seemed so overwhelming and draining, just to ensure my wellbeing. Yes, it’s her job to help me in my recovery, but she didn’t have to do the specific thing that she did, and there was no one else who would have. (Except for me, of course… and yes, I would have made the call, but I don’t think everything would have been accomplished with the same speed. Besides, these little things help more than most people realize.) Perhaps most importantly, there’s someone reminding me that the fact that I show up at her office every week on my own initiative means something. That’s a victory every time it happens, because it means I haven’t given up yet.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Progress. Significant progress. The cloud is still there, but that was a step, and every step is a real battle.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>It’s not to say that the rest of the day was easy. I spent the rest of the session avoiding talking about one loss by talking about another one instead, which I had also been avoiding in past sessions.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I relived the month of November in halting words, unsure how to express the truth. The session went long. I burst into tears as soon as I walked out the door (they had only been leaking before), and they kept up for most of the 45 minute drive to my store where I needed to make sure my work schedule would be compatible with my new appointment. My face was dry when I walked in, but I noticed a little too late that the pooling tears had soaked and stained a sizable patch around the neckline of my shirt. (No one mentioned it. They never mention my red eyes when I come back from breaks, either. A kind and tactful bunch. I’m grateful for them.)</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I went to a chiropractor who annoyed the hell out of me. (“There, don’t you feel your head clearing out now?” “Um. No. No, I really don’t.” Pretty sure it’s going to take more than a chiropractic adjustment to get that effect... although I think he meant a different kind of clear than I do.) I also realized when I got home at nearly 7:30 that I had hardly eaten anything all day. Then I realized that eating hasn't been such a struggle lately for the simple reason that I've been forgetting to struggle over it, which is just another problem itself.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Still. Today counts as a victory. Not the most important one… but then, I guess at this point all of them are important.</span></div>Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-11275308236993422922012-02-17T17:56:00.000-08:002012-02-17T18:34:46.954-08:00some random thoughts that mean something to meThe conversation over dinner tonight turned, randomly, to my parents' marriage.<div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">Trying to remember how that happened now.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">There was talk of relationships in general. My brother mentioned that while his girlfriend sometimes complains about how much he's like our dad, she secretly hopes that the two of them will turn out like my parents.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">"Not a bad goal," I had to say, and my brother agreed.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">I guess this is actually a belated Valentine's Day post, because my brother's comments touched on my own reflections on that day, and I think now that they were important enough to write down. After all, observing my parents was the reason that day was not as difficult as I expected.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">It's not that I hate Valentine's Day. It's more that the day is so meaningless to me. This year, I did a little counting backwards, because I'm self-destructively analytical like that. So, the count:</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">One year ago, I was reeling a little bit (and feeling more than a little naive) from hearing the "I just don't have room for a girlfriend in my life right now" speech, which put an abrupt end to the first real connection I'd felt after a long and drawn-out breakup several months previously.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">Two years ago, Sigh complained about feeling obligated to do something for Valentine's Day, went on a bit about society's expectations, and then bought me some cheap candy. It tasted kind of gross.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">Three years ago, I was single. The same for every year before that.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">This year Valentine's Day is the last thing in the world that matters in any practical way. I've got a world of other troubles on my mind, thanks very much.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div>Still, you can't really avoid thinking about it, at least a little bit. It's everywhere. I decided the best thing for myself would be to stay away from the internet for the day, and I mostly did that... but as my thoughts wandered, they fixed on that one year that I had somebody to share the day with, and how utterly ridiculous the day turned out to be. Here's the candy, given out of obligation - and not any obligation or pressure <i>I</i> had put forward, I might add; I stopped expecting gifts or gestures of any kind from Sigh quite awhile before that day - which I then felt obligated to appreciate and enjoy... and, really... is two years too much later to be irritated by the whole situation? A lot of people like to complain about Valentine's Day, and how it's a Hallmark holiday, just there to get us to spend money on cards and chocolate, and all this pressure to do something nice for the person you love... and, I'm sorry, but if it takes a sense of obligation to get you to do something nice for your significant other, then your relationship is already in trouble, if not failing altogether and only surviving out of habit. Mine certainly was. True, I'm not everybody... but I still think there's something messed up about needing a holiday to force you into a gesture of affection. If you're only doing it because it's expected, you have a problem. It might not manifest more seriously for some time yet, but you have a problem.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, these are my thoughts, on my internet-free day, and at some point in the evening I'm sitting at the kitchen counter, inches away from the roses my dad brought home for my mom. They're still there tonight, and they're lovely. Not blood-red, and not sickly-pink, but this soft hue that's almost a peach color, which suits my mom more or less perfectly.</div><div><br /></div><div>I looked at these roses, and I wasn't thinking about Valentine's Day. I was thinking about every other time over the past 30+ years that my dad has sent flowers to my mom. I thought about how he surprises her by making a celebration not just out of their wedding anniversary, but the anniversary of their engagement. I thought about him showing all of his kids the jewelry he'd gotten for her in secret, and asking us our advice on the most romantic way to give it to her.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was a kid in Indiana again in my mind, looking out the living room window one morning and seeing my dad pull into the driveway. He'd been living in New Jersey without us for months because of a new job, only able to make it home every other weekend, but he'd just driven all night long to surprise my mom on their anniversary.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mostly, I thought about how excited he gets over finding new ways and opportunities to make my mom feel special, all the time, after nearly 35 years of marriage. So I looked at those roses, and I thought that my mom and dad make Valentine's Day not seem cheap anymore.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know that anything else needs to be said about that. Except, perhaps, that when you're not sure you believe in anything anymore, it's nice to find something to believe in so close to home.</div>Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-8117450088236338882011-01-25T22:15:00.000-08:002011-01-25T22:44:01.682-08:00writing habitsI've had unusually prolonged success implementing a new writing habit these past couple weeks. The rule started out like this: no internet until I have written at least 250 words.<div><br /></div><div>I've tried daily writing quotas before. I've also tried systems of deprivation and reward. Most things seem to work for me temporarily, and then something always goes wrong. I get frustrated, or I skip a day, or I make an excuse do go ahead and do something I said I wouldn't do until later. So far - and I should probably knock on wood - that hasn't happened with this routine.</div><div><br /></div><div>Why does this one work when others have failed? I have theories.</div><div><ol><li>250 words is not a lot. Sure, some days when I'm just not feeling a flow, it can seem like endless agony to get them down on paper. But really, it's a very small amount, and if I <i>am</i> having a good day, I can bust it out in less than 20 minutes. (Okay, make that a <i>really</i> good day, but still.) Attainable goals are awesome. They make you feel good about yourself. When you achieve them once, you become confident that you can achieve them again. If they seem easy, you start wondering how much more you can do.</li><li>Rewards are great, especially when you actually get them. See above about 250 words not being much.</li><li>Deprivation methods start to fail when you get carried away with them. It becomes easy to make excuses to take shortcuts when it seems like you'll just never get there by the long road. I could wake up in the morning and remember that I'm waiting for a really important email, and think to myself, "Oh, it couldn't hurt just to check quickly, even though I haven't done my writing yet." I could do that, and probably justify it, if I had a really huge initial writing goal to meet. But... 250 words? How am I going to justify skipping such a tiny writing stint? (For your reference, this post is already 349 words long at this point.)</li></ol><div>So, these theories all seem to come back to the fact that I'm meeting a small goal. The downside of this, of course... is that it's a small goal. I am being successful at getting a small amount of writing done.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>But I don't think that diminishes the success. For one thing, 250 is not a daily goal. It's a kickstart to my writing for the day, after which I can take a break to do some other things, knowing that I've at least accomplished something. (Achievement Unlocked: Internet Access!) Sometimes the day goes on and I don't have the time or energy to write more. That's fine; at least I'm writing every day. Other days I get some real momentum going and write quite a bit more. For the past few days, in particular, I've been coming out between 600 and 1200 words at the end of the day. That's not too bad.</div><div><br /></div><div>Another important point is that this morning goal is not actually just about writing. It's about stopping myself from feeling like I'm wasting time. Before I started this, I realized that many mornings I went straight to the internet and spent a lot of time doing a whole lot of nothing before getting around to whatever I really wanted to do that day. If I let myself, I am perfectly capable of wasting hours on my computer in the morning before doing anything of consequence. Not anymore, though. Now the very first thing I do most mornings is grab my computer and start writing until I've hit 270 words or more. (I've been gradually increasing the goal as it gets easier to handle.) Once I've done that, I feel free to check my email and catch up on what the internet has been doing without me all night. And then, because I've gained some momentum of mental activity, I don't have as much trouble getting up and getting on with the rest of my day. It's quite nice, really.</div><div><br /></div><div>...I actually intended to write a post about the scene I wrote today and how I had to fix it, which was going to lead into some things I've learned about writing lately. I wonder how I ended up on this subject instead. Oh well, maybe next time. :)</div>Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-30292469758722491802011-01-19T15:02:00.000-08:002011-01-19T15:08:40.351-08:00life: I'm doing it wrong<p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">I used to think that college was the place where you figured out what you wanted. At the time, it certainly seemed to be packed full of important decisions. What will you major in? What will you do with that? Are you going to grad school? How are you going to spend the entire remainder of your life after graduation? Sometimes it seemed like the decisions we were making right then and there were going to set the rest of our lives in stone.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">I suppose some people really did do things that way. Some studied material that led them to viable careers, which they began directly after graduation, and then stayed on that path. Some chose graduate programs that prepared them for careers they had a passion for, and worked toward concrete goals so they could have the life they wanted. And, hey, good for them.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">I’ve been out of college for nearly three years now, and I still have no fucking clue what I want. Forget a career path; I don’t even know what sort of person I want to be. Not the one I am, certainly, with this accommodating nature that the stronger-minded members of my family find mildly contemptible; this obsession with making a good impression; this caution-first attitude which dissuades me from taking risks; this “everything is hopeless” mentality leading me to set myself up for failure, repeatedly, in multiple aspects of my life, just so that I can continue to tell myself that everything actually is hopeless.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">Yesterday I made a crack online about how I wish I could rewrite my character sheet - just erase the whole thing and start over from scratch. Well, I don’t actually want that. For one thing, I’d have to know what changes I’d like to make on it. Besides, in some ways I’m pleased with the way things turned out. I like being bookish, for instance. All those hours I spent as a kid (and later) reading the most interesting books I could get my hands on? Wouldn’t trade them, not even for all the eyesight I’ve lost. Forays into epic fantasy, where you spend over a decade waiting for a single story to conclude? Totally worth it.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">You know what, though? I could have done more than that. I could have reacted differently to the world around me. I didn’t have to listen to everything that people told me.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">That’s what I’m really disappointed about, looking back at past-me: the number of times I listened to people when I probably shouldn’t have. I also regret some of the times I listened even when I should have. A healthy round of try/fail cycles would have been a valuable addition to my life experience. Instead I stayed very, very safe as a child, and a teenager, and a college student, with the result that I now have a very, very boring life.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">Near the end of my college career, when I was in the middle of reading <i>The Artist’s Way</i> and felt like I was finding the key to unlocking all the things that were holding me back from what I really wanted, I wrote a short piece on creativity and God, mostly based on what I had just been reading. I remember being all full of excitement, thinking, “God <i>wants</i> me to be creative!” Like it gave me some kind of license to stop feeling guilty about loving writing so much. You know what I should have been thinking? “How could I ever have believed in a God who would give me desires for the sole purpose of requiring me to give them up in order to prove that I love him more than anything else?”</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">And yet I wasted years of my life listening to people who told me things like that, believing myself to be somehow deficient for not wanting to behave the way they told me I was supposed to behave. Years of keeping my mouth shut when I disagreed with someone, because it was so important to at least <i>look </i>like I fit in when even I felt like I didn’t. Why did that seem like the right course to me? Why didn’t I just go find someplace where I did fit in? Why, for the love of <i>anything</i>, didn’t I pay attention to how wrong all of that felt?</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">I cringe a little bit at the list of things I’ve let myself be talked out of, all because it’s too inconvenient/it’s not safe/it’s wrong/I’m a girl/the timing’s wrong/it’s too expensive/I’m too smart/somebody didn’t want me to do it. My parents, in particular, seemed to think I was some sort of faery creature who would wither and die if exposed to the wrong substance, or disappear without a trace if someone wasn’t watching me. Except that my parents aren’t all that into faery stories, so… a more mundane equivalent of what I just said. The thing is, in their efforts to keep me safe they told me “you can’t” so many times that after awhile I believed it.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">This isn’t their fault. I’m not trying to say that it is. Like I said before, I do wish that I had reacted differently to many things in my life. I could have been more of a people person. I could have ignored the words “you can’t” and just done what I wanted anyway. Lots of people do that. I only did it periodically, and not usually with good results. In short, I could have lived a bit more, instead of playing out imaginary lives in my head. And I most certainly did not have to continue putting myself in situations that were comfortable just because they were familiar, even when I knew there was something wrong with them.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">The thing about the words “you can’t” is that once you start to believe them, they become a mantra that you follow without even realizing it. “No,” becomes the automatic response to everything, because even if you can’t immediately think of a reason why you can’t do something, you’re sure there’s one lurking just out of sight that’s going to come and kick you in the head if you say “yes” instead. Fun ideas are quickly dismissed as crazy and impossible. In fact, you become so used to having everything just out of reach that you invent impossible situations for yourself. Soon you’re not sure if everything you want turns out to be out of reach, or if you only set your heart on the things you can’t get.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">This morning I woke up with the same feeling of resignation to yet another day that I’ve had the past several mornings. I distracted myself for about half an hour with my morning writing goal, but once I’d met that, I was back to blah as usual. And then it occurred to me that I am so very sick of starting my days feeling like that. I don’t like lamenting the fact that I’m awake as soon as I become aware of it. All of this reflection about the past, and how I wish people had treated me differently, and how I wish I had made different choices… none of that is helpful. I can’t change the way I grew up. But, you know what? If I wake up most mornings feeling not in the least excited about my life and what I’m going to do with it that day, week, or month… I am doing life wrong. Right now.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima"><i>That</i> is something I can fix, even if I’m not quite sure how yet.</p>Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-16412883724295159632011-01-06T20:30:00.000-08:002011-01-06T21:02:31.586-08:00oh, customers :)This is a story lovingly titled, <div><br /></div><div><i>Your Drink Is Not the Only One We're Making</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>My first day back to work after vacation was a Tuesday. I'd forgotten how Tuesdays can get crazy sometimes... mostly because Tuesday is an odd day for that sort of thing. I mean really, why Tuesday? I wonder this a lot.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, there I am, getting back into barista mode, doing closing stuff, being on bar. I've got a couple drinks lined up to make. I look at the next one in line: a caramel macchiato. I get the milk steaming, pull a pair of espresso shots. I pick up the cup and pump the syrup into it.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh," says the woman waiting at the end of the bar, "that's too much vanilla."</div><div><br /></div><div>I turn to her. "Too much vanilla?" (I tend to repeat back most things people say to me in the workplace, partly because I have trouble hearing, and partly to get them to elaborate.)</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, I only want two pumps of vanilla. That's way too much."</div><div><br /></div><div>I look at the cup again. No specification on the amount of vanilla. "I'm sorry," I say by rote, going to the sink and dumping the syrup out of the cup. I figure she'll probably want to avoid this kind of confusion in the future, so I tell her, "A venti caramel macchiato usually comes with four, but you can always tell us how much you want at the register."</div><div><br /></div><div>"But I asked for two pumps."</div><div><br /></div><div>"You did? I'm sorry about that. I'll just make you one with two pumps."</div><div><br /></div><div>"And I didn't ask for a venti. I wanted a grande."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh, you did?" I pull a grande cup from the stack and put two pumps of vanilla in it, nodding occasionally as the customer tells me how four pumps of vanilla is just too sweet for her. By now the shots I pulled are dead. I pull new ones, pour the milk, add the shots, and grab the caramel sauce to finish with a drizzle.</div><div><br /></div><div>"What's that?" the customer asks, sounding slightly alarmed and maybe even a little scandalized.</div><div><br /></div><div>I pause. "Caramel sauce," I say, wondering how anyone could order a caramel macchiato and then be surprised at the addition of caramel.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I didn't ask for a macchiato," she says quite firmly.</div><div><br /></div><div>"You didn't?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"No. I asked for an Americano."</div><div><br /></div><div>I look over at the counter. Sitting there, next in line after the caramel macchiato, is a grande cup marked for an Americano with two pumps of vanilla.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Ah," I say, dying a tiny bit inside because of the time I just wasted on a hectic night, "your drink is actually the next one in line. This one is for someone else."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh!" She is clearly a little embarrassed. "I didn't realize there was anyone else waiting for a drink!"</div><div><br /></div><div>No response entered my head that would not have gotten me into trouble. Silently, I remade the caramel macchiato in its proper size and proportion, and then made an Americano. With just two pumps of vanilla.</div><div><br /></div><div>To coffeeshop customers everywhere: if you feel the need to micromanage the making of your drink, please do ask us which one we're making before we begin. It will save everyone a lot of time. :)</div>Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-88973284587587956442010-12-28T09:11:00.000-08:002010-12-28T09:12:22.554-08:00Nostalgia<p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">Thoughts and confessions</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">return as before,</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">released from the glass</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">where the sun bleeds through.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">So much is missing;</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">so much stays the same;</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">nothing replaces</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">the past left abandoned.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">Things left behind -</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">and best left alone? -</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">revisited briefly,</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">as a last fond farewell.</p>Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-71501242538162711552010-09-24T14:25:00.001-07:002010-09-24T14:25:57.456-07:00plum lavender sorbet<p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">I’m writing in my kitchen, with no internet connection, to post later. I decided to just go for what I really want: plum lavender sorbet.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">I don’t have a recipe for this, but there’s a blueberry lavender gelato recipe in my book. I took the guidelines from there to prepare the lavender: two teaspoons steeping in two cups of hot water (instead of the milk it would be if I wanted to make gelato). After about fifteen minutes I’ll strain the lavender buds out and use the water and some sugar to make a lavender syrup. In the meantime, I’d better puree my plums and see how much volume I’m going to get out of them. None of the recipes in my book use plums at all, which leaves me at a bit of a loss to estimate the amount of sugar I should use to sweeten this sorbet. I’ll compare a few recipes and make a decision after I see how much puree I have.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">Interesting; I’ve never cooked with lavender before. Apparently all (or most) of the purple bleeds out of the the buds when they’re steeped, leaving them a dull shade of green and tinging the water with purple. I haven’t finished cutting up the plums yet. I probably should have left some of them another day or two so they could ripen a bit more, but I was impatient. I’m sure they’re close enough.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">Plum puree looks delicious. I was right to leave the skins in - the color is a lot richer than it probably would have been otherwise. Besides, plum skins have a lot of flavor. And, let me see… mmm, yes. Plum puree also tastes delicious. It’s pretty thick, too. And there’s lots of it. I didn’t need to buy this many plums. That’s ok, though; I’ll use some of it for this recipe and set the rest aside for another.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">Yes, now that it’s strained I have enough plum puree for two recipes of this stuff. I’ve got the lavender syrup starting on the stove. Once it boils for just a minute, I’ll need to let it cool before I can combine it with the plums, and then let the whole thing chill for at least eight hours before putting it in the machine. Since I don’t intend to stay awake until 1 am, that means I’ll be finishing this in the morning before work.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">It’s morning! I just poured the sorbet mix into the machine, set the timer for 25 minutes, and started it up. The last batch of sorbet I made was well frozen within that amount of time. It was also less sorbet, so we’ll see if it’s enough time for this batch. I have a couple containers chilling in the freezer so the finished sorbet won’t melt when I scoop it into them to store. And now it’s just time to wait.</p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 8.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-indent: 28.0px; font: 13.0px Optima">Success! I love it, it tastes excellent! I can’t decide what to do with the rest of the plum puree! Should I make plum lavender gelato? Should I make just plain plum gelato? Is there another flavor I should try mixing the plum with? I’m too excited about the sorbet to decide! My favorite flavor from the Bent Spoon, recreated in my own kitchen through adapted recipes and guesswork. I feel triumphant. But next time I think I will wait for the plums to ripen a tiny bit more. And maybe also try adding a tiny bit of lemon juice to the puree. That seems to help maximize fruity flavors, and I know it helps apples keep their color, so maybe it would do that for plum puree as well. I want to start on my next project, but I don’t have time to cook a custard base before work. Especially when I haven’t decided if I want to use more lavender in it or not. I feel like I should do something to add to the flavor… I will brainstorm other options.</p>Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-75871332570941434162010-09-22T19:34:00.000-07:002010-09-22T20:11:55.175-07:00The Gelato DiariesDear Readers - I have acquired an ice cream maker, courtesy of my patroness, one Rachel Baum.<div><br /></div><div>This is a quality, though small-scale, machine. My favorite feature so far is the built-in compressor freezer, which means that I don't have to pre-freeze a bowl before getting started. This in turn means I have much less hassle to bother with when I want to make ice cream. Also, there's more room in the freezer for the actual ice cream. A definite advantage.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I just got distracted for quite awhile on Amazon looking up more ice cream recipe books. Ahem.</div><div><br /></div><div>Right now I'm getting tired and I want to go home, but later I'll tell you all about my first three batches: raspberry ice cream, strawberry ice cream, and raspberry-thyme sorbet. Thanks go to Rachel, without whom I would have no equipment for these projects; the cash fairy who visited my purse last week, without whom I would have stressed over buying the ingredients for these first attempts; and my manager, who donated some herbs and then fell into raptures after tasting the results, telling me I'd found my calling. :) Thanks everyone!</div>Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-11741183185082221152010-07-31T13:32:00.000-07:002010-07-31T14:38:06.966-07:00look, she's backDear world,<div><br /></div><div>I am now living a life that is, in its barest frame, the one that I pictured a couple years ago when I first thought of moving away. As tends to happen in life, though, the intervening time has filled in the details that frame holds up, and life is in the details, isn't it? Let me share some of the things I have learned over the past two years.</div><div><br /></div><div><ol><li>There are some slights that you will never forget, even if they happened a long time ago and you thought you <i>had</i> forgotten them.</li><li>You have to forgive those things anyway, or else they'll shadow other parts of your life, and there's just no reason to let them.</li><li>Sometimes, in relationships (with anyone), you have to let go of small things to make it work. But small signs of big things should never be ignored.</li><li>Having the time to do things makes very little difference if you don't actually get up and do them.</li><li>Loneliness is not something you can run away from. Oddly enough, you end up still being lonely.</li><li>The people who love you are probably not going to be as quick to judge you as you fear.</li><li>Some of them (not all) will judge you anyway, even if they try not to let it show.</li><li>They still love you, and that's more important.</li></ol><div><br /></div></div><div>None of these are lessons perfectly learned, of course. They're in that category of things that need to be learned repeatedly throughout life. Still, they sum things up pretty well - and I'm working on them.</div>Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-33424013108002501032009-11-14T19:08:00.000-08:002009-11-14T19:38:28.388-08:00coffee and soupI have never had such dry hands before in my life.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong; it could be a lot worse. This is nowhere near as bad as either of the times eczema flared up on my hands. That was painful; this is just kinda weird. Before starting this job, I have never never had dry skin on my <span style="font-style: italic;">fingertips</span> before. Unless calluses from playing guitar count. But that still feels different.<br /><br />Excuse me while I go get lots and lots of lotion.<br /><br />There, that's a start. I'll probably feel the need to apply more in about two minutes, but for now my hands feel much better. In other news, I <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> my job. :) It's going quite well, and I am slowly gaining a sense of stability that has been lacking in my life for about the past year.<br /><br />My mother will be arriving in just a few hours, and instead of cleaning when I got home, I started cooking soup and making a bigger mess. And now that the soup is happily simmering, I am updating my blog instead of cleaning. Not that things are terribly messy around here, but a girl does like to be able to show her mother a neat home when she's living alone for the first time in her life.<br /><br />Oh yeah, I'm also still looking for a new roommate. I'm growing unfortunately fond of having this place to myself, and I need to put a stop to that because I can't afford to <span style="font-style: italic;">keep</span> it all to myself.<br /><br />Well, I should probably straighten up at least a little bit before picking my mother up from the airport. A very happy mid-November to you all. :)Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-75680803807684515982009-10-23T22:58:00.001-07:002009-10-23T23:52:46.845-07:00finally, some good newsLately I have been enjoying the rare luxury of a few relatively stress-free days. The primary reason for this, without a doubt, is the fact that I am now officially employed by Starbucks! :) The number of areas in which my life has already improved, before I've even started the actual training, is ridiculous. Right now I'm staying up late to make "yay I work for <span style="font-style: italic;">sane</span> people" cookies, following Andrew's famous chocolate chip recipe. It's safe to say I'm feeling pretty good.<br /><br />Earlier today I was digging through my drawers looking for something to wear, and I suddenly remembered that I don't need to worry about saving nice enough things for fudge-selling events anymore. That realization was pleasing in a small, insignificant sort of way, especially compared to the other things I no longer have to worry about. For example, even though I wasn't on the work schedule for the past couple days, I don't have to worry about whether that means my boss doesn't like me anymore and doesn't intend to schedule me ever again. I don't have to worry that I won't be told if they decide I'm not wanted anymore. I will no longer show up when I'm asked to, only to find that no one is there and the door is locked, and wait an hour and a half only to finally be told to just go home. I will receive a schedule on a weekly basis, rather than being told the night before I'm supposed to work. I'm fairly certain that if I call my manager with a question about work, he'll return my call. I will no longer be paid as a contractor so that my bosses can practice some creative tax evasion. There is no need to worry about being fired for lodging a valid complaint. And best of all, I no longer have to work for people who tell me to my face how much they appreciate everything I do, and then tell malicious lies about me behind my back. So, all in all, I'd say this is a pretty good week.<br /><br />After the job I finally get to quit, anything would seem fantastic, but I'd be pretty excited about working at Starbucks under any circumstances. I was so disappointed last winter when they went into a hiring freeze just as I applied to a couple dozen locations. I think I'm going to like being a barista very much, and Starbucks is a company I feel like I can be proud to be part of. My first real training shift is on Monday morning, and I am so incredibly excited. :)<br /><br />On another note, it's almost time for another round of NaNoWriMo. Can I write 50,000 words in a month while also learning my way around a new job? We shall see...Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-21469625281333491782009-08-27T19:27:00.001-07:002009-08-27T19:43:05.770-07:00books books booksI am exhausted - but a happy exhausted, because the first couple boxes of my books arrived!<br /><br />:) :) :) :)<br /><br />It's going to take quite awhile to get my entire collection over here from Jersey. Books, in case you were unaware, are heavy. And I own lots of them. My mother asked me which of my books she should send to me first, since it just isn't possible to send them all at once. I felt like she was asking me to pick my favorite children or something. I <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> my books, and I've missed them all! Even when I'm not reading them, it's just a comforting feeling to be surrounded by them.<br /><br />In the end, I chose the Guilty Pleasures and the Crying Books. You know Guilty Pleasure books - they're the ones that aren't really all that great, but you just love them anyway<span style="font-style: italic;"></span> even if you don't know one single other person who does. And yes, I do also have specific Crying Books. They're the ones with scenes that are sure to get me tearing up when I need a safe emotional outlet. I feel it's important to have stuff like that lying around so that my inevitable emotional buildup doesn't end up spilling out into the lives of everyone around me. You have to be careful with Crying Books, though - if you use the same ones too often, you get desensitized.<br /><br />Well, then. Being exhausted as I am, I believe I will go and rest, and possibly read a bit about Herald-Mage Vanyel. (That one would be a Guilty Pleasure.) :)Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-12903073560130387912009-07-31T13:19:00.001-07:002009-07-31T13:36:35.105-07:00videos and ideasI've hit the "new post" button several times in the past couple weeks, but I always end up canceling because I'm not sure what to blog about. I'm still not sure, but I'm a little fed up with neglecting the poor blog. So, just for kicks, here's a video for your enjoyment. Don't forget to pause the music first.<br /><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yGnJYMRC9NE&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yGnJYMRC9NE&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />I hope that works. I've never tried to embed a video on my blog before. Hey, who among you would read urban fantasy set at Rutgers? I've been bouncing random silly ideas around my brain, and so far that's the one with the most promise. (As in, it sounds like it would be the most fun for me at the moment.)Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-78333190448916379442009-07-08T23:28:00.000-07:002009-07-08T23:47:41.609-07:00it is aliveHi everyone. My life is <span style="font-style: italic;">crazy</span>. Today's triumphs consist of the acquisition of internet and the assembly of a kitchen table. Slowly, I am building a home. :)<br /><br />Anyway, now that I have internet maybe I'll find some time to post more frequently and relevantly. I'm still going to be incredibly busy for awhile, but I no longer have to schedule a few hours out of my day to make it worth taking my laptop someplace where I can find wifi.<br /><br />All this moving related stuff has really been quite stressful, to tell you the truth. I think (or hope) that I am nearing the end of the major tasks, and then my new roommate and I will be able to really settle into our new home. (I'm sitting in the kitchen right now, and it's a disaster area with stuff half-unpacked. But there's a table in it now!)<br /><br />So, I exist, I have internet, and I even sort of have a home. What I don't have is any clue what you guys would like to read about on here.Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-42929323609934803032009-06-12T14:40:00.000-07:002009-06-13T07:44:04.949-07:00"People were always upset to hear someone like Alan casually saying things like 'easier prey.' "It's unusual for me to have things I want to post on this blog and then not get around to it for awhile. More often when I don't post it's just because I can't think of anything to say. But I've been meaning to follow up on my post about <span style="font-style: italic;">The Demon's Lexicon</span> by <a href="http://sarahtales.livejournal.com/">Sarah Rees Brennan</a>, since now I've actually read it and I did say I would tell you how it was.<br /><br />It did not disappoint, not even a little bit. It was such a fun read, clever and witty while being dark and kinda scary with a main character who was violently angry more often than anything else. As I understand it, one of the ideas Sarah had while writing this book was to actually get inside the head of that dangerous, mysteriously aloof, and devastatingly handsome character you see so often in fantasy novels. Well, she did that, and she did an excellent job of it. It was really interesting to sympathize with Nick while actually empathizing more with all the people around him, whom he just couldn't understand.<br /><br />She also did a really good job of slowly tearing Nick's world apart. I saw some of the plot twists coming, but their delivery was perfect. Especially the big reveal at the end. That one I sort of half-guessed, but the way it came out - the last line of that chapter - it really was stunning. And it was <span style="font-style: italic;">bold</span>, too. I was very impressed.<br /><br />In short, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Demon's Lexicon</span> wins. That title, by the way, is so much more clever than I realized at first. I'm definitely looking forward to the sequel.<br /><br />Is it <span style="font-style: italic;">next</span> June yet?Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-28880165175656788402009-06-04T22:27:00.000-07:002009-06-04T22:37:58.342-07:00more upcoming publications! (or just one)Do any of you know people who shy away from fantasy because of all those multi-volume epics that are just so freaking <span style="font-style: italic;">long</span>? Are you perhaps one of those people? I have to admit that I personally love multi-volume epics, in spite of the wait between installments – <span style="font-style: italic;">if</span> they’re written well. But they do get overwhelming sometimes, and it’s refreshing to come across a good standalone fantasy novel.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Warbreaker</span> is the novel Brandon Sanderson was finishing the last few edits on when he was first contacted about finishing <span style="font-style: italic;">The Wheel of Time</span>, and we are now finally approaching its scheduled release date. It won't come out until next week – but since Brandon Sanderson posted this book on his website as he was writing and revising it, I’ve already read it. So I can actually give you an informed recommendation! Aren’t you pleased?<br /><br />The last version of <span style="font-style: italic;">Warbreaker</span> available online lacks the final copyedit, but it’s complete enough for me to be able to say that Brandon Sanderson has definitely improved since the start of his published career. I’ve enjoyed every single book of his I’ve read (umm… that would be all of them), but you can really see the progress he’s made.<br /><br />Let me just take a moment to comment on how pompous I feel talking like that, especially considering how far I have to go with my own writing, and the fact that I have yet to figure out how to piece together an entire book. But I’m trying to be as specific as I can about why I think <span style="font-style: italic;">Warbreaker</span> is such an excellent book. After all, the whole point of recommending it is to get you to read it. :)<br /><br />Anyway, much as I love Brandon Sanderson’s other books, there are some issues with them that I think <span style="font-style: italic;">Warbreaker</span> improves on. The first thing I noticed about <span style="font-style: italic;">Elantris</span> was that the writing was a little rough (understandable, since that was his first published novel). Eventually I got so caught up in the story that I stopped noticing the rough spots, but they were still there. Also, out of the three point of view characters, only one went through any kind of significant development.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Mistborn</span> was better in terms of both writing and character development – and many other areas, too. Still, there were parts that felt a little awkwardly cobbled together. I think it still worked, and there were so many wonderful plot twists… it’s a great trilogy.<br /><br />Now, <span style="font-style: italic;">Warbreaker</span>… this is a book that brings all of its separate elements together into an amazing whole. There are four viewpoint characters in four different situations, each with their own problems and goals.<br /><br />Siri is a princess of Idris, sent to marry the immortal and terrifyingly powerful God King of Hallandren. It’s a last-minute change to an arrangement that has been in place for years: Siri’s eldest sister, Vivenna, is the one who has prepared her whole life for this marriage.<br /><br />Vivenna, feeling bereft of purpose and place, takes the first improper action of her life when she decides to go after Siri to Hallandren and save her little sister from the fate that should have been hers.<br /><br />Lightsong is one of the Returned – immortals worshipped as deities in Hallandren. The problem is, he doesn’t believe in his own religion.<br /><br />And then there’s Vasher. Vasher’s a loner. He doesn’t share his goals with anyone, let alone his plans. And he carries around this very strange, very scary sword.<br /><br />I kind of love the exchanges between Vasher and this sentient weapon. They tend to go something like this:<br /><br />NIGHTBLOOD: Let’s destroy evil!<br />VASHER: You don’t know what evil is.<br />NIGHTBLOOD: What about those guys over there? They look pretty evil to me.<br />VASHER: Shut up or I’ll put you back in the bag.<br />NIGHTBLOOD: No! I need fresh air! And sunshine!<br />VASHER: <span style="font-style: italic;">You are a sword.</span><br /><br />The pieces of the story come together perfectly, and the whole they create is all the more impressive for having come at it from four different angles. The character development that was lacking in <span style="font-style: italic;">Elantris</span> is very much present here, in all of the main characters. In fact, I think this book contains my favorite Brandon Sanderson character ever. The world is as full of depth as you would want in a longer epic. And Brandon Sanderson’s trademark of creating extraordinary, innovative magic in each of his books continues in this one.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Warbreaker</span> is hitting bookstores on Tuesday, June 9, and I cannot wait to bring a copy home with me.Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-4212836130866722602009-06-02T01:49:00.000-07:002009-06-02T02:04:05.136-07:00"Obviously this is the place to come if you want to get murdered by lunatics."I am incredibly tired and need to go to sleep almost immediately, but I have something very important to tell you all.<br /><br />It is June.<br /><br />That means that tomorrow (ummm... today, rather) <span style="font-style: italic;">The Demon's Lexicon</span> by <a href="http://sarahtales.livejournal.com/">Sarah Rees Brennan</a> will finally be available at bookstores near everyone. I am a firm believer in supporting authors I particularly like, and while I haven't read any books by Sarah Rees Brennan in the past (that would be kind of difficult since this is actually her first published novel), I do read her LiveJournal constantly because on the rare occasions when it doesn't make me laugh out loud, it at least makes me smile a whole bunch. My eternal thanks to Poonam for directing me there however long ago that was. :)<br /><br />Anyway. I'm too tired to say much more about the book at the moment, but I think I'll go buy it tomorrow. I've got time; I'm off work. I'll let you know how it turns out, shall I? I mean... I won't tell you <span style="font-style: italic;">how</span> the book turns out; I'll just tell you how it is.<br /><br />Like I said, tired.<br /><br />I have high hopes for <span style="font-style: italic;">The Demon's Lexicon</span>. I think it's going to be a very enjoyable read.Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-18288682115619277212009-05-30T14:10:00.001-07:002009-05-30T14:47:19.619-07:00come and sing that song for meWow. This blog has been experiencing some serious inactivity. Sometimes I don't know what to write about; other times I get busy; other times the only issues in my life are not ones suitable to post about publicly. But there must be <span style="font-style: italic;">something</span> to talk about, right? If nothing else I can't let the entire month of May go by without a single post.<br /><br />So, I've been working for about a month now, which is very good because I find that paychecks are a necessary part of life. I should get my second one very soon! *beams with pride*<br /><br />I figured that working for the fudge shop would be very different from my last job, and it is. For one thing, there is more fudge involved, and less books and seminars. That makes the tiny similarities stand out oddly in my mind. One day early in the month I was answering the phone a few times and thinking how the only difference in my words was the company name. Immediately I began to fear that I would slip up next time and say the wrong name, just because I thought it. Thankfully this has not happened yet.<br /><br />Those of you sitting within reach of wood, would you care to hit it for me a couple times? Thanks awfully. :)<br /><br />Something else happened in my first week of work that made me think of my last job.<br /><br />COWORKER: Let's have some music in here. Ruthann, do you want to put on your iPod?<br />RUTHANN: ...Wow. Serious deja vu. Sure thing, what would you like to listen to?<br />COWORKER: Oh, I don't know. Something nice. You decide.<br />RUTHANN: And again with the deja vu!<br /><br />It seems that certain parts of my life will never change. Or at least they haven't yet.<br /><br />Also, sometime in the next month I will <span style="font-style: italic;">finally</span> be moving into a place of my own, with a roommate arriving in the beginning of July. :) :) I'll have to send everyone new address information once I'm actually there. I cannot wait for boxes of my lovely books to arrive in Portland! I have missed them so! I must prepare shelves for them. And while I'm at it, maybe I should find a bed, and some other furniture. I hear those are useful.<br /><br />I'm going to have a home!Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-40621576265429901132009-04-28T13:12:00.000-07:002009-04-28T14:06:24.459-07:00my four walls transformedA few things:<br /><br />First, Holly Black rocks my socks. I didn't think I was a very big fan of urban fantasy until I read <span style="font-style: italic;">Tithe</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Valiant</span>, and <span style="font-style: italic;">Ironside</span>, all modern treatments of Faerie set in the wonderfully familiar tri-state area. (I actually read <span style="font-style: italic;">Ironside</span> first, but the above order is the correct one.) They are dark, and real, and rough, and they're about Jersey teens getting mixed up with dangerous faeries. (Well, "dangerous" pretty much describes <span style="font-style: italic;">all</span> faeries, in fact.) You definitely don't have to have Jersey roots to enjoy them (I first heard of them on the blog of an Irish writer who adored them), but I did like that extra sense of familiarity. Like in <span style="font-style: italic;">Valiant</span> - the main character, Val, pulled out NJ Transit tickets she'd been carrying around for weeks, and I remembered that I actually still have a ticket between New Brunswick and Hamilton in my wallet.<br /><br />Anyway, loved these books. They're full of compelling characters who do so many things wrong but you're rooting for them anyway. <span style="font-style: italic;">Valiant</span> did an especially good job of combining the dangers of living on the streets in New York with the dangers of dealing with the realm of Faerie. You've got dysfunctional families, deception, deals with faerie courts, serious drug addiction, and (dare I say it?) a <span style="font-style: italic;">hot troll</span>, all right there in the same book. I finished it last night, and the ending was amazing.<br /><br />Second, John Brown has <a href="http://johndbrown.com/2009/04/read-and-report-for-effect-not-rule-compliance/">interesting things to say about writing groups and reader feedback in general</a>. I've never read any of his work, but I follow his blog because it frequently contains helpful insights about writing. This particular post, in case you don't feel like following the link, talks about how important it is to get feedback based on <span style="font-style: italic;">effect</span>, not a catalog of problems or suggested fixes. He also makes a point about how it can be counterproductive to give the same group of people multiple revisions of things they've already read, because (and I'm paraphrasing here) with each reading they'll become more desensitized to the effect of the work and just notice the mechanics more and more. This makes me question the wisdom of allowing my group of alpha readers to include pretty much everyone who expresses serious interest in reading drafts of my story. But I suppose there are other things I should worry about before that detail - like actually finishing the story.<br /><br />Third, you guys all lose at the comments game. (Although some of you gave me comments personally and I appreciate that.) And there was so much to argue about in that post... *sigh*. The debates we could have had on the validity of the examples, or the definitions of love and evil... and of everyone who read that post or heard me talk about it, only my mother bothered to try calling me out on the moral problems with portraying love and evil as compatible, as I suggested I might do someday. Of course, I still intend to do it. And I will infer from general comment silence that no one has any examples for me of love and evil coexisting. Right? I mean, you guys wouldn't hold those back if you had them, would you?Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-55657837602033737822009-04-20T20:31:00.001-07:002009-04-20T21:23:18.280-07:00"when I say I love you..."I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the portrayal of love and evil in fiction, both written and on the screen. The relationship between the two interests me quite a bit, because they always seem to be in direct opposition to one another. That may seem like a statement of the obvious, but I really do mean <span style="font-style: italic;">directly</span> in opposition – it’s like they’re combatants in their own personal duel. If evil has a mortal enemy, that enemy is love.<br /><br />Love is constantly found at the root of evil’s destruction. Consider examples from popular culture. Darth Vader turns against the Emperor out of love for his son, and thus is redeemed at the last from the evil within him. Love is what sheltered Harry Potter from Voldemort for years – and love is what causes so many of Voldemort’s followers to turn against him in the end. Snape, Narcissa Malfoy, Regulus Black… each of them loved someone enough to defy their master. And Voldemort himself is the only character in the series who never loved at all, which could be why he didn’t realize that he was pushing his minions past a dangerous line. But that would be a different topic. Back to the point!<br /><br />Love and evil mix about as well as oil and water, or orange juice and toothpaste. Or a new germ introduced to an indigenous culture. (Bonus points in the comments: what else mixes like love and evil?) That’s why I am fascinated every time I see a villain who loves someone. Love is always a great source of story conflict; it complicates matters even for the very best couples. For villains who love, though, the conflict comes to their very nature. And because that conflict is so ubiquitous, I would really like to see the exception to the rule: a truly evil villain capable of true love, in a scenario where neither love nor evil is diminished by the other. Does such a character exist? Or are love and evil always shown to be mutually exclusive?<br /><br />I love to see evil couples in a story. I always want them to last. I don’t want them to win, but I want them to stay true to their love for one another, just so that someone will prove that it’s possible. This hooks me into their relationship right off the bat. I immediately evaluate the couple to see if I think their love is real, or if it's simply a relationship of convenience. Sometimes, though, it’s hard to tell the difference. I’m still highly amused when I remember the episode of <span style="font-style: italic;">Gargoyles</span> where Xanatos proposes to Fox:<br /><br />“We’re genetically compatible, highly intelligent, and have the same goals. It makes perfect sense to get married,” says Xanatos, like he’s making a business proposition. In part, he really is. “True,” Fox says, “but what about… love?” And Xanatos says, “I think we love each other, as much as two people such as ourselves are capable of that emotion.”<br /><br />Beyond the initial reaction (who on earth proposes like that??) I love this scene because of the issue they’re really getting at. Xanatos is admitting that as villains whose goals, motives, and methods are all quite dark, love is not traditionally supposed to be in the picture for them. Like many classic villains – and many classic heroes – Xanatos considers love a weakness. Nevertheless, he and Fox team up in pursuit of the same thing most evil couples are after: an eternal lifetime to spend together, preferably in a position of power. Since they figure that power will naturally follow on the heels of immortality, though, finding a long-term escape from death is the first priority.<br /><br />That's the goal of the monster in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Mummy</span>, and what provides the foundation for the story<span style="font-style: italic;">.</span> Imhotep’s love for Anck-su-namun is the reason he was killed in the first place, and when he is raised the first thing he does (apart from consuming people to gain strength) is to work on resurrecting her. In the second movie he succeeds in that goal, and the two proceed in their attempt to secure their future together by gaining the power of the Scorpion King.<br /><br />Spike and Drusilla of <span style="font-style: italic;">Buffy the Vampire Slayer</span> are already immortal, but they do prioritize taking care of each other in turns. Their love, obvious from their first appearance, is all the more intriguing because as vampires they don’t have souls. And yet, in spite of that fundamental lack which one might think guarantees the absence of love, our first introduction to Spike shows us how important taking care of Drusilla is to him. You can see the affection in his expression when he looks at her. As Buffy’s enemy and the leader of the other vampires, he is vicious and ruthless, but he is tender with Drusilla. His primary goal is to protect her and make her strong again so they can rule together. When she does regain her strength and he is injured, she starts taking care of him.<br /><br />Unfortunately, it all starts to fall apart after that. Drusilla’s attention begins to stray. She ignores Spike in favor of the stronger Angel. Still, Spike’s every thought is for Drusilla. He’s desperate enough to make a deal with his enemy to bring Angel down and get Drusilla away safely. But his best efforts are still not enough, and in the end he can’t hang onto her. She loses interest, is unfaithful, and finally just leaves him.<br /><br />For villains who love each other, a failed relationship is always portrayed as an inevitability. They’re unfaithful, or double-cross each other, or leave each other to die. Their love is never true enough, because their evil nature doesn’t allow for it. I have yet to see a pair of evil characters whose love is not in some way inferior to the love of the heroes. In the end, they prove to value themselves more than the one they love.<br /><br />That’s what happened to Imhotep and Anck-su-namun. When their moment of truth arrives, Imhotep selfishly asks Anck-su-namun to risk her life to save him, and instead she abandons him to save herself. This is shown in direct contrast to the heroic couple of the story, Rick and Evy. Rick tells Evy to run, and instead she comes back for him. The funny thing is, I doubt anyone would have blamed Evy for wanting to live. Some might even say it was foolish for her to go back. After all, if she and Rick had both died, their son would have been left an orphan. The fact that she did go back, though, makes Anck-su-namun’s self-preservation seem all the more cowardly.<br /><br />Honestly, that scene cheapened the whole story for me. Every single action those two had taken previously in the story was for each other. They had already died for each other, and we were never given any reason to suspect they wouldn’t do it again. And yet, in the end, after all they went through together and sacrificed for each other, their love was still not strong enough.<br /><br />In contrast, Xanatos and Fox pull through together the first time their love is put to the test. In several instances where it would be easier or safer for one to let the other die, or even for one to kill the other, they choose the harder path to keep each other safe. Despite the way they try to dismiss love as the least significant factor in their relationship, they repeatedly demonstrate that they care very deeply for each other.<br /><br />Here also, though, the show hints at how love could ultimately provide a path out of evil. Our hero, Goliath, chooses to help Xanatos save Fox because he sees hope in the possibility that people like them are even capable of love. While it might not be clear at the time even to Golaith, what he’s really doing is making an investment: if he saves Fox, thus giving Xanatos someone to love, perhaps Xanatos can one day be saved from himself.<br /><br />It becomes much more difficult for evil characters to reconcile their love with their nature when the people they love aren’t evil. They may try to hang on to both sides at once for awhile, but eventually they come to realize that they will have to choose between evil and love. Or, alternatively, they might believe that the one they love should forsake goodness.<br /><br />Lanfear of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Wheel of Time</span> is possibly the most frightening example of the latter, for several reasons: her “love” is more like a stalker’s obsession; the guy she’s obsessed with is the reincarnation of her former lover, and only gradually remembers his previous life; he doesn’t love her; and, given the chance, it would be within her power to force him to turn to evil whether he chooses to or not.<br /><br />Others are less scary, but still seductive. In <span style="font-style: italic;">Dragonlance</span> there’s Kitiara, who has a history with Tanis and tries to persuade him to join her in serving the evil goddess Takhisis. This is a tempting choice for Tanis, because his love for Kitiara is also real. I could probably write another essay altogether on Tanis’s inner conflict throughout the books, and how Kitiara represents one half of that conflict… it’s an involved subject that I won’t go into here. When Tanis does make his choice, though, Kit has to choose too: does she let him go for the sake of the love they once shared, along with the woman he has chosen over her, or does she kill them both in the service of her Queen?<br /><br />Kit lets them go, and for that reason she’s probably the most ambiguous of all my examples. It’s pretty clear that she’s chosen evil, but does she also still love Tanis? Lord Soth thinks that she does, in spite of her claim that she only let them go because they don’t matter anymore. She also tells Soth, somewhat vindictively, that Tanis and Laurana will be forever in her debt, and that her memory will be a slow poison to their love.<br /><br />It’s hard for me to believe that Kitiara is completely unaffected by any lingering feelings for Tanis, but if she is, those feelings are at odds with the evil she serves. Her mercy to Tanis was in defiance of her mistress. Love and evil could never both be at full strength in Kitiara.<br /><br />Lanfear has a choice to make too, when Rand irrevocably rejects her. The difference here is that we’re already pretty sure what Lanfear is going to choose. With Kitiara there was a chance that some affection might still linger; with Lanfear, it’s uncertain whether she ever felt affection at all. What she feels for Rand is possession, and Lews Therin’s memories indicate that he believes she only ever used him to further her own ambition. So it doesn’t really come as a surprise when she looks coldly at Rand and says, “If you are not mine, then you are dead.” Love and evil never had a chance to coexist in Lanfear, because the love was never really there.<br /><br />Sometimes it's not romance, but parental love that proves to be the most powerful, as in the complicated case of Demona, another <span style="font-style: italic;">Gargoyles</span> character. Like Kitiara, she was once in love with a hero. When Demona fails to persuade Goliath to join her, however, she has no trouble casting off her love as though it never existed. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill Goliath – in fact, she tries to kill him many times. She makes no concessions to their former love, and seems incapable of any affection at all in the face of her hatred for humankind. Then, she discovers that she has a daughter.<br /><br />By this point in the show, it’s a pretty well-established fact that Demona is not to be trusted under any circumstances. True to character, she repeatedly manipulates and lies to her daughter in order to achieve her goals, and in doing so loses her trust and any chance of developing a real bond. And yet, when there is real danger, Demona steps in to save Angela. She will not allow anyone to harm her daughter, and she won’t cross the line herself and carry on with a scheme that would harm her.<br /><br />Children providing redemption for their parents is another frequent theme in the struggle between love and evil (again, I point to Vader). Demona, however, rejects that redemption. It’s clear that she feels something for Angela, whether it's affection or just protectiveness. Whatever she feels, though, it is not enough to stop her from searching for a way to destroy humanity. And since that goal is more important to her than anything else, the possibility of a loving relationship with her daughter disappears. Once again love and evil battled it out, and evil won this round, even if the love exists.<br /><br />Xanatos and Fox aren’t lost, though, and it’s their son Alexander who causes the real change in them. Shortly after Alexander's birth Goliath and the other gargoyles help Xanatos and Fox to keep their son when others want to take him away – acting, perhaps, on the same impulse that prompted Goliath to help Xanatos before. He certainly had no reason to believe that his help would be appreciated or repaid, but in the end it was. Xanatos provides shelter to the gargoyles just when they need it, and an uneasy alliance is formed that eventually grows into friendship.<br /><br />“Goliath saved the world,” Xanatos says to another character. “More importantly, he saved my son.” (And once again Xanatos's ego pulls through to give me one of my favorite lines ever.) Xanatos may not be a paragon of virtue, but you can’t fault his family values, and he does cease with the diabolical schemes that Goliath constantly had to stop in the past. Xanatos and Fox remain true to each other and their son through the entire show, perhaps indicating that villains can feel true love, too. Still, even this happy family can’t make the case for love and evil existing in harmony, since by the end they have effectively switched sides.<br /><br />Such is also the eventual fate of Spike when he falls in love with Buffy. From that point on, his character arc is all about the struggle between love and evil. He is a vampire who loves a vampire slayer. He has no soul, craves blood, and concocts evil schemes, but he also can’t stand to see Buffy in pain, watches her back when she needs it (even when that means killing other vampires), and in some ways understands her even better than her friends do.<br /><br />Joss Whedon seems to like that kind of character conflict, because it’s also the central theme in <span style="font-style: italic;">Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog</span>. The story plays with our conception of good and evil by giving us a sweet villain for the protagonist and a self-absorbed jerk of a hero for the antagonist. Then we watch Dr. Horrible’s character transform through the show’s forty minutes.<br /><br />For Dr. Horrible, villainy is a way to change the world. He wants to join the Evil League of Evil and win the prestige he needs to make a difference. However, there are certain lines he is uncomfortable about crossing. The influence of Penny, whom he has secretly loved for a very long time, just might be the only thing that could keep him from crossing those lines. The entire story builds up to demonstrate that there is no room inside of Dr. Horrible for both his evil ambitions and his love for Penny. And I’m not going to say any more than that, because seriously people, if you haven’t watched this yet, go look it up on Youtube or something. You can spare forty minutes to watch something this spectacular.<br /><br />Spike’s story, on the other hand, takes a few seasons to unfold – and just to warn you, I’m about to give a spoiler for my absolute favorite plot twist in the entire show. The essential conflict is the same for Spike as for Dr. Horrible: either love or evil must win out. For Spike, it’s even more obvious that this is inevitable. Penny is really more of a bystander in Dr. Horrible’s story (albeit an important one), but Buffy is Spike’s natural enemy. By definition, he’s a demon, and her life’s purpose is to slay demons. Something has to give.<br /><br />For Spike, perhaps more so than any of the previous examples, matters come to a head with a very deliberate choice between evil and love. Spike comes to the conclusion that loving Buffy is more important to him than anything else – and that is a realization that requires certain sacrifices.<br /><br />So he travels across the world and takes on a torturous series of trials in order to win his soul back.<br /><br />And here’s the thing: he doesn’t do it because he expects to return and claim Buffy’s love at last. He’s not expecting a magical happy ending. He does it because Buffy deserves to be loved by a man who has a soul, not a man whose very nature is evil. (I could write yet another essay, by the way, entitled Why Spike is a Better Man than Angel, but now is just not the time.) This evil, soulless character had enough capacity for true love to prompt him to do whatever it took to turn his whole nature upside down. To be perfectly frank, in this particular case love kicked evil’s ass.<br /><br />So, why have I gone on at such excessive length about all these characters? Well, because I love them, and I love their stories, and because I get to talk about what I love on my blog. :) But also because as much as I love them, there is still an empty place in my heart just waiting to be filled by that perfect evil couple: the two villains who are totally committed to each other <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> to their nefarious schemes. Please tell me – has anyone found them yet? Or am I going to have to write them myself?Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-32613234774881022082009-04-20T13:54:00.000-07:002009-04-20T14:26:38.854-07:00not the one you've been waiting forI've had a request for a post about my trip to the coast this weekend. Well, nice as that trip was, it can't really be described as eventful. I'm afraid there just isn't much to tell. I'll try for something, though.<br /><br />The worst disadvantage of my vampiric heritage struck again on Saturday: my face has been mildly toasted. It's a really good thing the vampires are so far back in my ancestry, or things would be so much worse. Also, I apparently have very weak ankles. It seems that an extra long walk on wet sand in bare feet can stress my ankle to the point where I end up limping for the next two days. This just proves once again that I don't get nearly enough exercise.<br /><br />Also, as the afternoon wore on, someone suggested in jest that I write a beach haiku... so I did. Keep in mind that I was very cold at the time.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Beach Haiku</span><br /><br />Feet buried in cold sand,<br />I watch the bright waves roll in.<br />Let's go inside now.<br /><br /><br />Really, we had a wonderful time. It was very relaxing, and the Oregon coast is just beautiful. A few of us walked from the campsite to the beach after dark on Saturday night, and I couldn't believe how many stars I could see. I was really tempted to update Twitter from my phone with a reference to <span style="font-style: italic;">2001: A Space Odyssey</span>, but I decided not to, mostly because I've never actually seen or read it. I've just heard the line often enough to be familiar with it.<br /><br />Anyway, that was the coast!Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-30510132846329264602009-04-13T15:17:00.001-07:002009-04-13T15:58:22.620-07:00not about what is, but what is notI started off my day in the usual way: by walking into semi-random stores and asking the people inside for a job. Today was a little different from the usual experience, though.<br /><br />STORE EMPLOYEE: How may I help you?<br />RUTHANN: I was just wondering if you are hiring?<br />STORE EMPLOYEE: Yes! Would you like an application?<br />RUTHANN: ...I am so not used to hearing "yes" to that question.<br /><br />That scenario was repeated a few times throughout the morning, which, needless to say, was very encouraging. My characters really like it when I can afford food and rent. When I get too distracted their lives stop moving forward, and that makes them unhappy. They're needy like that.<br /><br />Unfortunately, they're not always very giving in return.<br /><br />RUTHANN: *writes happily* This is going well!<br />CHARACTERS: *dig in heels* We are not happy.<br />RUTHANN: What? But it was going so well!<br />CHARACTERS: This is not what happens. We don't do that.<br />RUTHANN: You don't? Well, what <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> you do?<br />CHARACTERS: Figure it out!<br />RUTHANN: The moment you guys cut your puppet strings, I knew this could not end well.<br /><br />They know better than me, obviously. But they have sharing issues. Clearly I did not raise them well enough.Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-88498952287509121882009-04-09T14:33:00.000-07:002009-04-09T15:26:52.035-07:00The Name of the WindI was a little afraid to try writing this post, because I’m not sure I can adequately explain just how amazing this book is. But I was just reading something online about <a href="http://www.patrickrothfuss.com/content/index.asp"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Name of the Wind</span></a>, and suddenly found myself almost tearing up, and not just because I’m a bit overemotional these days. It was because I wish I could write as well and as beautifully as Patrick Rothfuss – which, by the way, is somewhat similar to wishing I could write poetry like T.S. Eliot. (I wish that too, in fact.) That was when I realized I have to at least <span style="font-style: italic;">try</span> to describe this book, because it deserves to be mentioned, especially to people who might then go read it.<br /><br />Part of the problem is that it defies categorization. How do you tell people about a book that isn’t quite like other books? Yes, it’s a fantasy. One could also call it epic. But it doesn’t conform to the traditional structures one usually finds these days, in fantasy or other literature.<br /><br />To quote the author: “As far as I can tell, my story is part autobiography, part hero's journey, part epic fantasy, part travelogue, part faerie tale, part coming of age story, part romance, part mystery, part metafictional-nested-story-frame-tale-something-or-other.”<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Name of the Wind</span> is all of those things, but since it is all of them, it is also none of them. How do you predict what’s going to happen when all of those ingredients are thrown together into the same story? Sure, in some ways they can line up, but in many more ways they force each other in directions they wouldn’t ordinarily go. This is part of what makes the story so hard to describe, and also part of what makes it so wonderful. We like to read the traditional story forms, but we also like it when they do things we don’t expect.<br /><br />Usually, then, when I mention <span style="font-style: italic;">The Name of the Wind</span> and someone asks me what it’s about, I fall back on choosing one of the many things that it is, because that’s faster and less confusing. What I tell people most often, though, is that <span style="font-style: italic;">The Name of the Wind</span> is beautiful.<br /><br />There just isn’t a better word for it. The story is gripping and fantastic, but the language leaves me awestruck.<br /><br />I’ve been in awe of books before, for many different reasons. Robert Jordan’s world-building capabilities staggered me. With Melanie Rawn, it’s the characters. (She does characterization so well that once she made me cry for two characters who died just a couple pages after she introduced them.) Usually, though, it takes the highest quality poetry to make me feel the way this book’s prose did.<br /><br />Some of you may be thinking, “Well, that’s no good. If I want poetry I’ll go read poetry. I don’t need it in a novel.” Let me assure you: in this case, you really do. This isn’t a matter of wordy descriptions that detract from the story flow. I’ve read books in which the narrative goes off on so many descriptive tangents that by the time it returns you to the conversation the characters were having, you’ve forgotten that they were talking, let alone what they were talking about. That’s not what Patrick Rothfuss does. These are well-chosen words that never fail to make the story more powerful than it already was.<br /><br />Beautiful language would not be nearly so impressive if it didn’t go with an amazing story. I’m not going to try to tell you about it here. The blurbs in the link above don’t do it justice. It’s one of those books that you really just need to read for yourself.<br /><br />Go. Read. I recommend <span style="font-style: italic;">The Name of the Wind</span> with absolutely no reservations.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">UPDATE:</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><a href="http://www.locusmag.com/Features/2007/03/locus-reviews-patrick-rothfuss.html">Locus</a> reviews books better than I do, if you'd like to get some sense of what it's actually about.</span></span>Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1587611432513747031.post-9103932293743328542009-03-29T23:37:00.000-07:002009-03-29T23:51:42.982-07:00this cake is greatLet me paraphrase a recent conversation with my sister.<br /><br />RUTHANN: …and it wasn’t until I was working on that rough draft that I realized this character is kind of an arrogant jerk.<br />BECCA: Oh?<br />RUTHANN: I was so surprised when he and his sister started fighting in every other scene! I said, “I thought you guys got along really well!” And they said, “Well yeah, usually we do, but he’s being such a jerk right now!”<br />BECCA: ...<span style="font-style: italic;">What</span>?<br />RUTHANN: What do you mean, what?<br />BECCA: You are talking like your characters… like they’re… you just told me about a conversation in which they talked back!<br />RUTHANN: Well, yeah.<br />BECCA: …Well, I guess you wouldn’t actually be part of the family if you were normal.<br />RUTHANN: What did I say?<br /><br />I guess I knew that writers think a little differently than others. What I didn’t realize is that the others aren’t as aware of it as the writers are. I just assumed that my sister would take it in stride that I treat my characters like they’re actual people, even though she has never experienced anything like that herself. Somehow, even after all this time being in the same family as a storyteller, she never caught onto the fact that this is how writers and their stories interact. I don’t know how that happened. I thought I talked like that often enough (usually with much crazier scenarios than the conversation described above) that people in my family would be used to it by now. But maybe I’ve only talked that way with other writers. Is this a secret we keep among ourselves? Should I just not bother trying to talk about it with others?<br /><br />I’ve talked with enough other writers to know that the way my characters can sometimes grab the steering wheel away from me in the middle of a story, flashing me completely unrepentant grins as they push me aside, is not at all unique. I’ve even heard people suggest that if this <span style="font-style: italic;">doesn’t</span> happen, the story is too flat. I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know that some of the very best story elements come from characters doing things their “creator” never saw coming. My effort to communicate this to my sister was something less than sophisticated.<br /><br />RUTHANN: I’m not the only one!<br />BECCA: Did the voices in your head tell you that?<br /><br />Maybe I’m breaking some kind of writers’ taboo by talking about this where people who don’t tell stories can see. Nevertheless, I am here to reveal the truth about stories. You see, people who only <span style="font-style: italic;">read</span> stories see them as the product of the writer, constructed and controlled by them. Writers, on the other hand, know that stories are alive.<br /><br />I don’t mean something like Dr. Frankenstein’s, “<span style="font-style: italic;">It is alive</span>!!” I’m talking more like Genesis, when God breathes life into his creation. That’s what writers do with their stories (albeit on a much smaller scale). And like Adam, the stories take on their own life, complete with free will. Have you ever heard a writer talking about the need to keep a story outline flexible? They don’t mean, “in case I come up with something better later.” They mean, “because I have to be ready for the characters to take it in a different direction.” Because that is what characters do. It’s not the exception; it’s the norm. Good thing, too; we can only be so clever on our own power, you know. It's not just good to get that help. It's necessary.<br /><br />Now you may either express your dismay at my crumbling sanity or reaffirm my belief that all of that is actually true.Ruthannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14403234195253010742noreply@blogger.com3