Day: 2
Page: 15
Target Page: 14
Word Count: 4200-ish
Place in Story: ACCEPT THE CHALLENGE, EVA! DO IT! DO THE THING!
I've just realized a bit of a problem with my plot: Galen might not want to turn back into a human. So, as a solution, I'm going to make Eva very empathetic and do the building for everyone else in the castle. Seeing as she has only ever spoken to a hedgehog and a raven and a weird guy in a dream, she can't really say for sure if she's willing to build for Galen or willing to build for everyone else in the castle. So far, it's looking like she's going for everyone else in the castle, because there are ways for Galen to permanently be a dragon if he wants to.
I really need to improve Eva as a character. I haven't established her voice at all, and she has no real reason for staying aside from a willingness to help people. I need to have a stronger motive; willingness to help is usually secondary. But what should her motive be? This is what I must ponder tonight.
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Friday, September 19, 2014
On the planning of zombie apocalypses
Today in Greek class, we started out talking about Thucydites the historian and ended up discussing a hypothetical zombie apocalypse in Athens.
See, Thucydites survived a plague in Athens and wrote about it in a very clinical way. In class, we decided that this plague was the thing that started the Peloponnesian wars - that Sparta had to wipe out the Athenians in order to stop the zombies. Thucydites recovered from his bout of zombieness in order to write about it. Others, however, were not so lucky. Either Socrates or Plato (I don't recall which) became a full zombie but was cognizant of it, which inspired the quote, "I know that I know nothing."
We also decided that the classmate that came up with the idea is going to write the bestselling novel based on the premise. Our professor is going to adapt it into film, and Samuel L. Jackson is going to play someone important.
This is what we do in class, in case you were wondering.
Monday, May 26, 2014
On Memorials
This weekend, I was able to finally hang out with many people on my dad's side of the family. I say "finally" because it has been a very long time since I've seen my cousin, aunts, and uncles on that side of the family - I think the general consensus was about eight years ago. There was even more extended family there, too, whom I haven't seen since the 90s. (To give you a perspective on how well I know the 90s... I started kindergarten, and that's one of the few things I remember).
Unfortunately, the whole event was spurred by the fact that my grandmother died in December, and we were only recently able to get everyone together to hold some sort of memorial for her. It's really fitting, as this is Memorial Weekend. She's buried in the same plot as my grandfather, in an area she lived in for many years.
With all the death and stuff, it was still a fun occasion - my dad actually said that she would appreciate the humor being held at her grave site. (The humor, for the record, was along the lines of, "Don't smile for the photos in the cemetery; this is a grave occasion!") It was interesting to talk to everyone, and I heard some really funny stories from my more immediate family about her.
For the record, my grandmother was a child of the Great Depression. She was born in 1920, so she had just turned nine when Wall Street crashed into the Depression. She kept up many of the money-saving habits that she and her family developed over the ensuing years, and it is from that frugality, something she kept up until she stopped living alone, that many of the stories come.
One of the most common stories I've heard of her is how Nana would save small things. For example, she didn't make new ice. She would have iced tea every day and a small vodka with ice every night; when she was done with the drink, the ice would go back in the freezer.
That wasn't the only water thing she saved. When she bathed, she would take a bucket to catch the not-quite-warm-enough water; when she was done washing, she would take the bucket outside and water the garden with the contents. She rarely used her dishwasher as well, and she rarely left a room with the light still on. There's a reason her electric bill was less than $50.
There are some crazy things that came out of this frugality, though. One of my favorite stories of Nana came out of this.
So my dad visited Nana regularly throughout my childhood; she was his mother, after all. Also, she was living alone, as his father had died in the early 1980s. During one of these visits, he decided to get some ice cream, and chocolate was somehow involved (I don't know if it was chocolate ice cream, or a vanilla base with chocolate parts, or vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce... anyway, chocolate was involved, and that's the important part).
At the time in question, Nana's eyesight wasn't that great. One night, Dad scooped himself a large bowl of chocolatey ice cream goodness, and left it on the kitchen counter near the sink - I guess he had to go to the bathroom or something? Anyway, the ice cream was left on the counter, and Nana came into the kitchen. She thought that the bowl was simply dirty, and not full of fresh-scooped ice cream, so she washed it out with soap and water.
At that moment, my dad came in to see his bowl of ice cream getting soap and water all over it. He told Nana that she was, at that very moment, washing his nightly dose of chocolate down the drain. Nana apologized and proceeded to rinse most of the soap off of the ice cream and offered the rest to Dad, as if it were a perfectly fine bowl of ice cream with no flaws whatsoever.
Unfortunately, I don't know how Dad reacted to this. I assume he accepted it graciously, and then waited until she left the room. He probably then finished washing the bowl and scooped some new ice cream into it. (I don't actually know, though).
In all, it was really nice to hear some of these stories. I didn't really know Nana that well; though she and I are related and were on the Earth together for two decades, I didn't really spend a lot of time with her. For most of my life, she was mostly blind and approaching deafness, and I guess that's hard to explain to a kid with patience issues, as I was. Also, since she wasn't in a great physical condition, it was hard for her to travel; traveling a family of four around is also logistically difficult. I am glad that I was able to see so much of my family again, though, and it was nice to hear the stories, even though they were second-hand.
Unfortunately, the whole event was spurred by the fact that my grandmother died in December, and we were only recently able to get everyone together to hold some sort of memorial for her. It's really fitting, as this is Memorial Weekend. She's buried in the same plot as my grandfather, in an area she lived in for many years.
With all the death and stuff, it was still a fun occasion - my dad actually said that she would appreciate the humor being held at her grave site. (The humor, for the record, was along the lines of, "Don't smile for the photos in the cemetery; this is a grave occasion!") It was interesting to talk to everyone, and I heard some really funny stories from my more immediate family about her.
For the record, my grandmother was a child of the Great Depression. She was born in 1920, so she had just turned nine when Wall Street crashed into the Depression. She kept up many of the money-saving habits that she and her family developed over the ensuing years, and it is from that frugality, something she kept up until she stopped living alone, that many of the stories come.
One of the most common stories I've heard of her is how Nana would save small things. For example, she didn't make new ice. She would have iced tea every day and a small vodka with ice every night; when she was done with the drink, the ice would go back in the freezer.
That wasn't the only water thing she saved. When she bathed, she would take a bucket to catch the not-quite-warm-enough water; when she was done washing, she would take the bucket outside and water the garden with the contents. She rarely used her dishwasher as well, and she rarely left a room with the light still on. There's a reason her electric bill was less than $50.
There are some crazy things that came out of this frugality, though. One of my favorite stories of Nana came out of this.
So my dad visited Nana regularly throughout my childhood; she was his mother, after all. Also, she was living alone, as his father had died in the early 1980s. During one of these visits, he decided to get some ice cream, and chocolate was somehow involved (I don't know if it was chocolate ice cream, or a vanilla base with chocolate parts, or vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce... anyway, chocolate was involved, and that's the important part).
At the time in question, Nana's eyesight wasn't that great. One night, Dad scooped himself a large bowl of chocolatey ice cream goodness, and left it on the kitchen counter near the sink - I guess he had to go to the bathroom or something? Anyway, the ice cream was left on the counter, and Nana came into the kitchen. She thought that the bowl was simply dirty, and not full of fresh-scooped ice cream, so she washed it out with soap and water.
At that moment, my dad came in to see his bowl of ice cream getting soap and water all over it. He told Nana that she was, at that very moment, washing his nightly dose of chocolate down the drain. Nana apologized and proceeded to rinse most of the soap off of the ice cream and offered the rest to Dad, as if it were a perfectly fine bowl of ice cream with no flaws whatsoever.
Unfortunately, I don't know how Dad reacted to this. I assume he accepted it graciously, and then waited until she left the room. He probably then finished washing the bowl and scooped some new ice cream into it. (I don't actually know, though).
In all, it was really nice to hear some of these stories. I didn't really know Nana that well; though she and I are related and were on the Earth together for two decades, I didn't really spend a lot of time with her. For most of my life, she was mostly blind and approaching deafness, and I guess that's hard to explain to a kid with patience issues, as I was. Also, since she wasn't in a great physical condition, it was hard for her to travel; traveling a family of four around is also logistically difficult. I am glad that I was able to see so much of my family again, though, and it was nice to hear the stories, even though they were second-hand.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Romantic Comedies
Last night, I saw a production of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night with my mom. It's one of his comedies, and it's easy to see why - there are romantic plots up the wazoo; it involves twins, cross-dressing, a love triangle that's actually closed, a lusty servant, and mistaken identity (see 'twins' and 'cross-dressing'). Honestly, all it needs is some legitimate same-sex couples and a character that hits on everyone and it will be more romantically confusing than the NaNoWriMo novel I wrote in 2011.
To flesh this out more fully:
Viola and Sebastian are twins. They are on a boat. It crashes on an island. They get separated. Viola, being an opportunist in a sexist society, dresses like a dude and calls herself 'Cesario.' She enters the service of one Lord Orsino, who is trying to court Olivia (whose brother has died and who isn't really interested in romance). Viola falls for Orsino, who sends Viola to do the courting for him. Olivia falls for Cesario, who kind of doesn't want that. Meanwhile, some servants persuade Olivia's servant Malvolio that if he dresses in some yellow garters and gets really bossy, then Olivia is definitely going to fall for him. Add in Lord Aguecheek, and basically everyone wants Olivia except Viola; of course, that means that Olivia wants Viola (as Cesario, of course). Then there's some duel propositions; on the day of the duel, SEBASTIAN ARRIVES. Olivia propositions Sebastian (because he and Cesario look very similar), and then everyone is very confused for a while until they see Cesario and Sebastian in the same room at the same time. Orsino realizes that Cesario isn't attractive but Viola is (Shakespearean logic?), and the only person who winds up not getting someone they desire is Malvolio.
If someone here does not call this a romantic comedy, I would really love to hear their logic. The interesting thing about this, though, is that it's not necessarily the same as romantic comedies today. Though there are themes of staunch heterosexuality, and (usually) at least one person does not wind up with the object of their desire, something like Twelfth Night (or even Midsummer Night's Dream) is a little different than the dominant RomComs of today.
A major reason that Twelfth Night is different from RomComs today is that Viola is not the main object of interest. In Emma, it's the title character, and she has to turn down a few guys before realizing who is right for her. In Pretty in Pink, Andie turns down Duckie and goes with... SPOILERS, but he likes her as well. The point is, there are always several people who are interested in the female main character (henceforth referred to as the FMC), and they're usually dudes, because she's usually straight. In Twelfth Night, though, Olivia has the role of Attractive Female, but Viola is the main character. She's not the object of attraction because everyone thinks she is a guy - which is an interesting perspective, once you think about it.
Additionally, something like Twelfth Night is interesting because, like so much of Shakespeare, it can be translated to a lot of different areas. The production I saw was set in the 1920s; it was essentially a ballet in 20s-style ragtime and jazz. I don't know how well something like Pretty in Pink would work in that sort of situation.
To flesh this out more fully:
Viola and Sebastian are twins. They are on a boat. It crashes on an island. They get separated. Viola, being an opportunist in a sexist society, dresses like a dude and calls herself 'Cesario.' She enters the service of one Lord Orsino, who is trying to court Olivia (whose brother has died and who isn't really interested in romance). Viola falls for Orsino, who sends Viola to do the courting for him. Olivia falls for Cesario, who kind of doesn't want that. Meanwhile, some servants persuade Olivia's servant Malvolio that if he dresses in some yellow garters and gets really bossy, then Olivia is definitely going to fall for him. Add in Lord Aguecheek, and basically everyone wants Olivia except Viola; of course, that means that Olivia wants Viola (as Cesario, of course). Then there's some duel propositions; on the day of the duel, SEBASTIAN ARRIVES. Olivia propositions Sebastian (because he and Cesario look very similar), and then everyone is very confused for a while until they see Cesario and Sebastian in the same room at the same time. Orsino realizes that Cesario isn't attractive but Viola is (Shakespearean logic?), and the only person who winds up not getting someone they desire is Malvolio.
If someone here does not call this a romantic comedy, I would really love to hear their logic. The interesting thing about this, though, is that it's not necessarily the same as romantic comedies today. Though there are themes of staunch heterosexuality, and (usually) at least one person does not wind up with the object of their desire, something like Twelfth Night (or even Midsummer Night's Dream) is a little different than the dominant RomComs of today.
A major reason that Twelfth Night is different from RomComs today is that Viola is not the main object of interest. In Emma, it's the title character, and she has to turn down a few guys before realizing who is right for her. In Pretty in Pink, Andie turns down Duckie and goes with... SPOILERS, but he likes her as well. The point is, there are always several people who are interested in the female main character (henceforth referred to as the FMC), and they're usually dudes, because she's usually straight. In Twelfth Night, though, Olivia has the role of Attractive Female, but Viola is the main character. She's not the object of attraction because everyone thinks she is a guy - which is an interesting perspective, once you think about it.
Additionally, something like Twelfth Night is interesting because, like so much of Shakespeare, it can be translated to a lot of different areas. The production I saw was set in the 1920s; it was essentially a ballet in 20s-style ragtime and jazz. I don't know how well something like Pretty in Pink would work in that sort of situation.
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