All growing up, we hear the words of our families and teachers, all saying the same thing: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" They don't laugh when we answer "Astronaut", "Famous Singer", or "Princess." They only smile and reply, "You can be anything you want to be."
Then we hit our teenage years. We realize that princesses don't live in America, singers live poor lifestyles, and astronauts rarely make it into space. So we become rather cynical, or we jump to different dreams. As we decide on something a little closer to home, we share these new dreams with friends and family, and of course everyone is supportive (although their smiles may be a little less genuine, what does it matter? we'll show them).
When a teenager, I was asked what I wanted to be. My reply was always, "An author." "Of what?" "Fantasy." That answer was either followed by a badly guarded expression and a stiff, "Oh," or an excited, if disbelieving glint in their eye and, "Oh, really? When you're famous, I want to read it!" "Sure," I'd reply, beaming, absolutely certain that it would happen, and wouldn't they be surprised?
Then it was time to grow up. I moved out and my friends moved on. Upon occasion I would run into one of these long-ago friends and they'd ask, "How's your book? I still want to read it when your famous."
"I could give you a copy now," I offered.
"Oh, sure. That'd be great. I don't have a lot of time, but, ya know, I'd love to read it."
Naively, happily, I'd send them a copy. Six months later I had heard no response, and upon our next encounter:
"Have you had a chance to read my book?"
"Er, no. I've been busy, but I'll get to it soon. And hey, I still want a signed copy."
"Of course," I'd say, and after several such encounters with different people, I learned my lesson. Never again would I share my unpublished work with fair-weather friends. No doubt these same people, upon my actual published work, would reappear in my life with every claim that they, "read it before it was published!" (ha ha) and "She's my best friend."
"Right," I'd say. "After those who believed in me."
It seems that when we're small we can do anything, be anyone, and go anywhere. But when we're adults we're expected to change, become something ordinary and practical, or we just "won't go anywhere." How disheartening, how pathetic. That we set aside the dreams of our youth because no one really cares. Oh, certainly, I have a lot of dear supporters, especially within my own family. But of those friends who grew up with me, knowing my dreams, conversing with me about my story, I can count on one hand those who still actually believe in my ability enough to help me now, by reading a manuscript in their spare time.
One good thing, at least it's a means of knowing who really cares, and who only indulges in the moment. I will not forget the people who have supported me when there may be no national recognition; only a dear memory etched in my own heart, forever.
Here's to you, foul-weather friends. Those who believe in me now, before the future becomes our present.
3.26.2009
Lament #0016 - Written words paint too!
With March almost gone, I realized that my rants have been few and far between. This isn't because I'm suddenly taking anger management classes. It's only because I have had so many rants lately, I haven't known where to start. But today--! Today I have a few rants.
I belong to a creative arts community on the web, and I've attended classes offline as well. I've conversed with people many times on the definition of art, and heard it defined by "professionals". These people all agree, in general, that writing is among the Great Arts.
Really?
Then what's wrong with everyone? There is no regard for writers, where there is an abundant amount of support for charcoal or water-color artists.
Why? I wish I knew. Certainly it's not for lack of books in the world.
"What are you talking about? People recognize novels as art!"
As well they should. But here's the thing-- NO ONE wants to read a novel. Granted, viewing a painting or wood carving is much less time-consuming than, say, reading a five-hundred page manuscript. But think about it: THAT'S WHY READING IS GOING OUT. People are lazy. NOT busy, but LAZY. They lack both the drive and the focus to devour a book, yet they spend countless hours pursuing other somehow more fulfilling endeavors.
Then there are those who hear a writer's dream to become a novelist, and dare to scoff because, "At least I went to school, where I learned a respectable career as a dentist." How dare they? It sickens me to hear that in order to be good at something you must always and only attend a school where someone else, someone older, teaches you THEIR methods of doing something, claiming it is the only right way. (This one paragraph is a premise for a whole new rant, I think.)
A considerable amount of my anger is fueled toward those silly artists in particular who paint a picture, then turn around and say to writing artists, "Ha! Here's real artwork." The sheer ARROGANCE of these people is unbelievable! I'd like to see them TRY to write a five-hundred-page novel! (Do, indulge me!)
Can people not realize that writing is as much career as pulling teeth? That it is as much an art as cinematography, or anything you might find in an art gallery? That it is as much a hobby as quilting, scrapbooking or photography?
Considering that it falls under three distinctive categories, how can it not make sense that writing is a wonderful thing? Career, Art, Hobby. Hmmm.
If you have issues with writers, take them up with God. He wrote the first book.
I belong to a creative arts community on the web, and I've attended classes offline as well. I've conversed with people many times on the definition of art, and heard it defined by "professionals". These people all agree, in general, that writing is among the Great Arts.
Really?
Then what's wrong with everyone? There is no regard for writers, where there is an abundant amount of support for charcoal or water-color artists.
Why? I wish I knew. Certainly it's not for lack of books in the world.
"What are you talking about? People recognize novels as art!"
As well they should. But here's the thing-- NO ONE wants to read a novel. Granted, viewing a painting or wood carving is much less time-consuming than, say, reading a five-hundred page manuscript. But think about it: THAT'S WHY READING IS GOING OUT. People are lazy. NOT busy, but LAZY. They lack both the drive and the focus to devour a book, yet they spend countless hours pursuing other somehow more fulfilling endeavors.
Then there are those who hear a writer's dream to become a novelist, and dare to scoff because, "At least I went to school, where I learned a respectable career as a dentist." How dare they? It sickens me to hear that in order to be good at something you must always and only attend a school where someone else, someone older, teaches you THEIR methods of doing something, claiming it is the only right way. (This one paragraph is a premise for a whole new rant, I think.)
A considerable amount of my anger is fueled toward those silly artists in particular who paint a picture, then turn around and say to writing artists, "Ha! Here's real artwork." The sheer ARROGANCE of these people is unbelievable! I'd like to see them TRY to write a five-hundred-page novel! (Do, indulge me!)
Can people not realize that writing is as much career as pulling teeth? That it is as much an art as cinematography, or anything you might find in an art gallery? That it is as much a hobby as quilting, scrapbooking or photography?
Considering that it falls under three distinctive categories, how can it not make sense that writing is a wonderful thing? Career, Art, Hobby. Hmmm.
If you have issues with writers, take them up with God. He wrote the first book.
2.26.2009
Lament #0015 - The Golden Rule, simple as that.
I admire and respect those with opinions which defer from my own.
That said, there is one particular crowd of people which, more than anything, perplex me. Those who once believed in God, and who now, for various "tragic" reasons, deny His existence yet hate Him all the same. That's very oxymoronic.
Allow me to truly lament for a moment, by recounting a few of the more eventful moments of my life over the past two years:
1. My then-twelve year old sister contracted an auto-immune disease called "juvenile bacterial arthritis" which caused her to lose most of her hair and grow a type of fungus on her skin as her muscles deteriorated and she was reduced to being pushed in a wheelchair. My family was turned into the state by a doctor for "child abuse", though the doctor knew the circumstances behind my sister's brittle appearance. I almost lost my younger siblings; luckily we could prove there was no abuse going on. We took my sister to specialists in a large hospital who declared "there is no cure." My mom refused to believe it, and took her far away from people who constantly talked about my sister's "impending death." For one year my sister struggled to survive. One day, a light came on and she realized she wanted to live. Pleading with God, she fought to make it through, and now my sister looks as though she was never ill for a second. She runs around, boundless energy coursing through her healthy bones. There are no remains of scars from the fungus, and her hair has grown back as lush and thick as before.
2. With the economy's struggles, my dad was laid off work. His van was repossessed by the bank.
3. My car's transmission just died; I had no warranty, and so the money must come from my own pocket. I still don't have the means to pay it.
4. This last December my parents' home burned to the ground. My family lost everything within it, and several precious pets died in its intense flames. Something told my parents to leave my younger brother with me, rather than alone in their home. He was spared from death.
I don't hate God. Tragedy isn't a good enough reason for that. We can't blame someone else for life's surprises--we certainly don't hate God when something good happens.
You may choose not to believe in God. That is your right. Personally I choose to believe in a divine power. I don't go around attacking other people simply because they have different beliefs from my own. I would appreciate the same courtesy from those around me.
Life is too short to spend it pointing fingers and attacking others. Try kindness. When it comes back to you, it's not so bad as other repercussions might be
That said, there is one particular crowd of people which, more than anything, perplex me. Those who once believed in God, and who now, for various "tragic" reasons, deny His existence yet hate Him all the same. That's very oxymoronic.
Allow me to truly lament for a moment, by recounting a few of the more eventful moments of my life over the past two years:
1. My then-twelve year old sister contracted an auto-immune disease called "juvenile bacterial arthritis" which caused her to lose most of her hair and grow a type of fungus on her skin as her muscles deteriorated and she was reduced to being pushed in a wheelchair. My family was turned into the state by a doctor for "child abuse", though the doctor knew the circumstances behind my sister's brittle appearance. I almost lost my younger siblings; luckily we could prove there was no abuse going on. We took my sister to specialists in a large hospital who declared "there is no cure." My mom refused to believe it, and took her far away from people who constantly talked about my sister's "impending death." For one year my sister struggled to survive. One day, a light came on and she realized she wanted to live. Pleading with God, she fought to make it through, and now my sister looks as though she was never ill for a second. She runs around, boundless energy coursing through her healthy bones. There are no remains of scars from the fungus, and her hair has grown back as lush and thick as before.
2. With the economy's struggles, my dad was laid off work. His van was repossessed by the bank.
3. My car's transmission just died; I had no warranty, and so the money must come from my own pocket. I still don't have the means to pay it.
4. This last December my parents' home burned to the ground. My family lost everything within it, and several precious pets died in its intense flames. Something told my parents to leave my younger brother with me, rather than alone in their home. He was spared from death.
I don't hate God. Tragedy isn't a good enough reason for that. We can't blame someone else for life's surprises--we certainly don't hate God when something good happens.
You may choose not to believe in God. That is your right. Personally I choose to believe in a divine power. I don't go around attacking other people simply because they have different beliefs from my own. I would appreciate the same courtesy from those around me.
Life is too short to spend it pointing fingers and attacking others. Try kindness. When it comes back to you, it's not so bad as other repercussions might be
Lament #0014 - Ah! pain.
There was an early critique for the prologue of my novel Paradise?, which said "you seem to be alienating the 'masochist' audience," referring to the line, "...up until the part where one actually crashed into the ocean. That might not be so enjoyable. Unless of course one is a masochist, which, I hope, one is not. Or was not, seeing as how one is dead now."
An interesting thought, to be sure, and I appreciated the feedback. But here's the thing.
A true masochist would be grateful. Why, you ask? Simple. If the line from Paradise? singles out the masochist audience, and they are hurt by the reference, doesn't that help them, as they enjoy pain so much?
Honestly. I'm doing them a service.
You're welcome.
An interesting thought, to be sure, and I appreciated the feedback. But here's the thing.
A true masochist would be grateful. Why, you ask? Simple. If the line from Paradise? singles out the masochist audience, and they are hurt by the reference, doesn't that help them, as they enjoy pain so much?
Honestly. I'm doing them a service.
You're welcome.
2.16.2009
Lament #0013 - The Almighty Football!
Religion -noun
1. the body of persons adhering to a particular set of beliefs and practices
2. something one believes in and follows devotedly; a point or matter of ethics or conscience
A lot of people are religious, even if they don't attend church. I'm also very aware that there are many people who aren't at all religious in the traditional sense--but, like it or not, most are religious. No, really.
May I suggest that there is a religion that has recently become apparent, even though its many, many practitioners aren't aware of such? It's actually an organization which has been around for decades, in point of fact, and most people, despite their vocal religious affiliation, are actually devote followers of this new faith more readily and zealously than they ever were of any prior faiths?
Sports.
Le gasp! How dare I mock the sacred event called sports? (May I point out that if any of you are offended that I mock this, it only further proves my point.)
In my own religion, despite its definite appointment that Sunday is a holy day where one should rest from worldly cares and focus on the Savior, most men (and women too) make Super Bowl Sunday a special "exception", justifying it easily. Never mind it can be recorded and watched the following evening.
Granted, my religion also supports choice. Heaven (literally) forbid agency be taken away. We are taught certain Godly laws and principles, and then are given the choice whether to obey or not. It is a much-debated point whether the Super Bowl is actually not within keeping the Sabbath holy, although it really oughtn't be such a point for debate, if people were truly honest with themselves.
Even outside of organized religion, how many people that you know (perhaps yourself included) take time out of life's essential matters (family, for instance), to watch that important [insert sports name here] event.
Is there something wrong with enjoying sports? Certainly not. But once again it comes down to how much time is spent pursuing the sporting world rather than our own lives, families, jobs, or religions? What responsibilities are shirked in the name of the Almighty Football?
Life is about moderation. We should pursue hobbies which we enjoy--there isn't anything wrong with that. But balance is essential for a healthy, happy life. If sports is causing a conflict with your other priorities; if sports is causing a rift between you and your significant other; something is wrong. Now is a good time to step back and examine how much time you spend pursuing your own hobbies, versus those of someone else, or versus the other goals and responsibilities you have in your life.
Any hobby which can cause harm to your family relationships or career should not become a central point in your life. On the other hand, if sports is helping bring your family closer, by all means, pursue it, so long as the purpose is a happy family, not a worshiped football.
Balance, balance, balance.
1. the body of persons adhering to a particular set of beliefs and practices
2. something one believes in and follows devotedly; a point or matter of ethics or conscience
A lot of people are religious, even if they don't attend church. I'm also very aware that there are many people who aren't at all religious in the traditional sense--but, like it or not, most are religious. No, really.
May I suggest that there is a religion that has recently become apparent, even though its many, many practitioners aren't aware of such? It's actually an organization which has been around for decades, in point of fact, and most people, despite their vocal religious affiliation, are actually devote followers of this new faith more readily and zealously than they ever were of any prior faiths?
Sports.
Le gasp! How dare I mock the sacred event called sports? (May I point out that if any of you are offended that I mock this, it only further proves my point.)
In my own religion, despite its definite appointment that Sunday is a holy day where one should rest from worldly cares and focus on the Savior, most men (and women too) make Super Bowl Sunday a special "exception", justifying it easily. Never mind it can be recorded and watched the following evening.
Granted, my religion also supports choice. Heaven (literally) forbid agency be taken away. We are taught certain Godly laws and principles, and then are given the choice whether to obey or not. It is a much-debated point whether the Super Bowl is actually not within keeping the Sabbath holy, although it really oughtn't be such a point for debate, if people were truly honest with themselves.
Even outside of organized religion, how many people that you know (perhaps yourself included) take time out of life's essential matters (family, for instance), to watch that important [insert sports name here] event.
Is there something wrong with enjoying sports? Certainly not. But once again it comes down to how much time is spent pursuing the sporting world rather than our own lives, families, jobs, or religions? What responsibilities are shirked in the name of the Almighty Football?
Life is about moderation. We should pursue hobbies which we enjoy--there isn't anything wrong with that. But balance is essential for a healthy, happy life. If sports is causing a conflict with your other priorities; if sports is causing a rift between you and your significant other; something is wrong. Now is a good time to step back and examine how much time you spend pursuing your own hobbies, versus those of someone else, or versus the other goals and responsibilities you have in your life.
Any hobby which can cause harm to your family relationships or career should not become a central point in your life. On the other hand, if sports is helping bring your family closer, by all means, pursue it, so long as the purpose is a happy family, not a worshiped football.
Balance, balance, balance.
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