Literary Deathmatch: Round 2

I have finished another round of editing, which means it break time. For me, break time means two things:

- Binge watching Haven and Emma Approved.
- Trying to decide which literary character would win in a drag-down, knock-out fight.

On the first topic, all I'm going to say is that if you don't watch those two things, you really should. Two very different tones, both extremely awesome.

It's my second break time activity that I'm focusing on right now. Last time I wrote about one of these (not the last time I thought about it - because I think about these things all. the. time.) it was Ms. Bennet and Ms. Eyre donning their boxing gloves. This time, I'm looking at two women of a slightly different moral caliber.

By Airman 1st Class Kerelin Molina [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

"Okay, I'm going to need a pair of these in snow white and a pair
in cotton candy pink. Yes, the contenders are very serious
about their color choices."

In this corner, in starched and pressed white, we have one Nurse Ratched!

This contender is no stranger to wielding absolute power. Through manipulation, guilt, deprivation of food and the occasional shock therapy, she keeps the inmates of Oregon State Hospital toeing the line. Ratched has been known to drive men to suicide, but when she finds herself unable to successfully push someone's buttons, she is not above lobotomizing her foe.


And in this corner, in a stunning uniform of pink - No, ma'am. Wands must be left at the door. Fight rules. - is Madame Undersecretary Professor Delores Jane Umbridge!

Don't let her constant prim smiling fool you folks, this is no demure lady. This contender is a Slytherin alum who not only embraces her bigotry, but ensures that she is in the appropriate position of power to act on it. She not only undermines the education of children, she actively harms them both emotionally and physically. As for adults, she happily sent them to prison with the soul sucking Dementors if she so much as disapproved of their lineage.




Seeing as there is no magical or pharmaceutical tools allowed in the ring, these women are fairly well matched. As they are both concerned with giving off a composed appearance, this fight might be a little slow starting. I would assume that it would begin first with each trying to exercise her uncanny knack for seeing the emotional weaknesses of others. However, when they find themselves equals on that front, a physical altercation will be all that's left.

While in a twisted way, these two women probably have enough similar interests to be great friends, neither will yield when the fists start flying - both see the public loss of face as too cruel a punishment to bear.

Physically, they're both of similar matronly builds. Both rely heavily on the tools of their trade (whether that be drugs and surgery or wands and blood quills) to reach their goals, however, the nature of Nurse Ratched's work likely gives her an advantage in terms of physical strength. The work of a nurse, in general, requires stamina and one would assume that this would be particularly true in a mental institution. It is not unlikely that she has had physical altercations with some of the patients at one time or another. After all, approaching a patient with a needle or pills requires one to get much closer to the other individual than approaching someone with a wand.

Delores Umbridge is not someone who will go down easily - a person evil enough to feel strengthened by a horcrux is not one to be trifled with. That being said, without the aid of magic, I believe I would bet on Nurse Ratched. Despite ruling the roost over at OSH, Ratched lives her life constantly surrounded by men who hate her and never being presented with the option of a quick Stupefy - or, more likely, Cruciatus - I'm guessing she's more physically prepared for whatever's thrown at her.

What do you guys think?

Vile Villains?

When I was but a wee thing, very little in this world scared me more than the villains from Disney movies. They were horrible. They were devious. They were manipulative. They were….possibly misunderstood.

It was after my stunning realization that the Wicked Witch might not be so wicked after all that I began to rethink my opinions on all my childhood villains.

Some of them are evil, no doubt about it.

Ordering your stepdaughter’s heart be cut out because a prince was singing her a love song? Not cool Queenie. Now considering that your stepdaughter was fourteen and the prince’s age was undetermined, I could see sending your huntsman after him.

Skinning puppies? Sorry Cruella, can’t talk yourself out of that one.

Killing your brother, telling everyone your nephew did it (including the kid himself), hitting on your sister-in-law and running the kingdom into the ground? That’s just hard to come back from, Scar.

But there are a couple who still have me on the fence. Two ladies whose actions certainly were not well advised, but were they evil? Maybe you can help me decide:

Maleficent

First Impression: She’s a demon. Has to be. All those flowing black robes and skin that sometimes seems to be tinted green, sometimes purple. She hangs around with ravens and can turn into a DRAGON. Evil. Evil. Evil.

Upon Reflection: Why is she so angry? Everyone in the kingdom is snubbing her. Have you ever been the ONLY person left off the party invitation? Wouldn’t that make everyone a little glum? Sure, her nickname is “Mistress of All Evil,” but she gave it to herself. Classic over compensation to mask deep insecurities. And the whole turning into a dragon and trying to eat everyone? If that’s not a cry for help, I don’t know what is.

Ursula

First Impression: She’s an evil witch trying to use the good king’s daughter to destroy him. She preys on wishers and dreamers, turning them into emaciated polyps. She can increase to massive proportions at will and tries to kill the young mermaid who was only looking for true love. Conclusion: Bad guy.

Upon Reflection: Ursula was cast from her home by Triton (who some report to be her brother) causing understandable mental anguish. But did she let it overcome her? No. She became a successful businesswoman. She has a lot of power, why should she be expected to use it free of charge? And can we really blame her for trying to take precautions against merpeople breaking contracts, particularly when it seems as though so many of them are less than reliable? If we are to judge based on her business with Ariel, she lays out her terms very clearly. She’ll turn Ariel human for three days. If Ariel gets a kiss of true love, transformation is permanent. If not, back to mermaid form and under Ursula’s power. Sure, these might be harsh terms, but they’re clear. And you know what Ariel does after they’re explained? Signs the damn contract. The whole pretending to be the woman of Eric’s dreams thing might fall in a morally gray area, but what it comes down to is that rather than meeting the terms of the contract that she herself signed, Ariel is complicit in killing the woman that she willingly entered into business with. Ursula was a tough businesswoman, yes. But deserving of being impaled on a ship? I don’t think it’s that cut and dry.

So what do you say, vile or simply vilified? Where do these ladies fall?

Openers

When it comes to writing books, every part is the most important. You can’t focus too much on any one area, but instead need to make it a strong whole. However, in terms of reading a book, a good argument can be made that the opening sentence may be the most important.

Why? Because that’s what has to reel the readers in. Once the book has hooked them, it’s certainly
important that it be good. But if they aren’t hooked from the start, it doesn’t matter how phenomenal the rest of the story is because they probably won’t be reading it.

A few months ago, I pulled some books at random from my shelves and looked at only the first sentences. It was interesting to see what made me want to read more and what fell a little flat for me.

So, let’s look at few more. The main question is, if I knew nothing about these books but their first sentences, would I opt to read on?

Incarnate (Jodi Meadows)

“I wasn’t reborn.”

What in the world does that mean? It’s got to be important if it’s the first thing she’s saying, right? What does it mean?!? I would read on.

Man in the Empty Suit  (Sean Ferrell)

“It is unfortunate for me that I am, by most any objective measure, a genius.”

I absolutely want to read more. Most of the time when you read “genius” it’s being discussed in a positive light. So, why is it so unfortunate for this man?

False Memory  (Dan Krokos)

“In the food court I find a mall cop leaning against a pillar.”

In just thirteen words I have a solid picture of where this scene is taking place. More than that though, I have a question I want answered. Why was the narrator looking for a cop? Reading on.

Enchanted, Inc. (Shanna Swendson)

“I’d always heard that New York City was weird, but I had no idea just how weird until I got here.”

This one isn’t as attention grabbing as some others, though it does have me asking what kind of weirdness she’s talking about. So, I would probably read at least another couple paragraphs from here. That being said, if the weirdness wasn’t unique or truly strange, the story might lose me.

Animorphs: The Invasion (K. A. Applegate)

“My name is Jake.”

Animorphs was one of my absolute favorite series growing up. However, if I knew nothing about the story but the first line, this probably wouldn’t be pulling me in.

How about you? Would you read these books based solely on their first sentences?

Always Pack Books First....Always

I am in the process of packing up my apartment.

Of course, books must be dealt with first. For the uninitiated, this does not mean that I load all my books into a couple giant boxes. Because that is a path of madness leading straight to split cardboard and broken backs. No, books need to be spread out among multiple carriers. And this needs to be a priority. Otherwise things can go to a very dark place.

You see, I go through five distinct stages when I prepare for a move.

Stage One:

I am meticulous. Everything is beautifully organized. The boxes make complete sense. Items separated by room in which they belong. A symphony of compartmentalized perfection. I am invincible. A packing god. You may take a moment to bow. I’ll wait.

Stage Two:

Not feeling quite so divine. But that’s okay. I’ve always been fond of the whole being human thing. And all my belongings are still pretty orderly. Sure, there might be some kitchen hand towels in the box with bathroom hand towels, but that’s not the end of the world. Probably.

Stage Three:

Man, packing takes a long time. When did I get so much stuff? This can’t all be mine. What should I label this stupid box? “Books/Linens/Snuggie/Mugs(2)/Light bulb/Avenger Chibis.” Yeah, that’s perfect. You know, labeling everything “Misc.” is just more efficient. Why was I wasting all that time before? Just get all of it in boxes. Then maybe a nap.

Stage Four:

You know what? If it doesn’t fit in a box, throw it out. I don’t need all this crap.

Stage Five:

Not already in a box? Fine. Setting you on fire. Done and done. Where the hell did I pack the damn matches?

There’s always a moment while I’m heating my hands by the pretty flames when I wonder if perhaps I’ve been a wee bit rash.

I feel a rush of panic, but then I remember all the books were packed by Stage Three. Relief warms my heart even as the bonfire formally known as my possessions warms the room.

Books are safe.

Everything else is expendable.

Reason number one to always pack books first.

And it’s totally not my fault if Roomie left some of her stuff in the blaze path.

That’s on her.

Literary Celebrity Deathmatch

Do you remember this MTV show from the late ‘90s? Claymation celebrities would face off in the ring and quite literally rip each other apart.

Well, I’m going to be honest with you, sometimes I think about book characters this way. Complete with claymation features. And I wonder who would win in a fight.

Take for instance, two of the most classic female heroines, Jane Eyre and Elizabeth Bennet.

In an all-out fight, who would walk away victorious?

Let’s first look at the contenders:

Ms. Eyre:

She had a very difficult upbringing and as a result is a little socially awkward, but very independent. This independence is not simply something she strived for, but a necessity for her survival. And looking at her life, Ms. Eyre is nothing if not a survivor. A trait that would serve her well in the ring. That being said, Ms. Eyre is also exceedingly moral. She is likely not to approve of physical altercations, which may lead to delay in her ring reactions that could result in defeat.

Ms. Bennet:

Though at times dissatisfied with her family, she has lived a fairly happy life, free of turmoil. Her lowest point is when her younger sister makes a dumb decision regarding a gentleman caller. Added to this, though Ms. Bennet is frequently frustrated by those around her, there is rarely a situation where she is left entirely on her own to deal with. When given the choice she is independent, but situations in her life frequently require interdependence. That she is used to such support could work against her in the ring. However, she is more open-minded than Ms. Eyre and while certainly not immoral, more flexible. For instance, she would probably be more willing to alter her skirts, giving her room to sweep the leg. Which always comes in handy in such fights as these. 

Honestly, I do think this would be a rather fair fight. Still, while I would probably rather be best friends for life with Elizabeth, I think I’d have to put my money on Jane for the fight. I think her morality would ensure that she wasn’t taking any cheap shots, but when the chips are down Ms. Eyre already knows how to survive. Ms. Bennet would probably learn more about that from this fight than she has from any other event in her life (that is, if she walked away from it intact).

Who would you bet on?

Giving Up What's Good For You....Apparently a No-No

When I was in fifth grade, I decided that for Lent I wanted to really make a sacrifice. I thought about it and thought about it, wracking my brain for what would be the hardest to give up.

Soda? Definitely liked that, but we didn’t normally have a ton of it in the house. It was more of a going out to dinner thing, so it wouldn’t be that hard to avoid.

Candy? Delicious, but similar to the soda situation.

TV? That was getting closer. Definitely liked TV, particularly if I could put a movie on. Then it was great.

But it still didn’t seem quite right. And then it hit me. The thing that I loved doing more than anything else in the world.

Reading.

That would be hard. Really, really hard. Maybe even impossible, but I was going to try. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I was proud I had found something that would be truly difficult.

My parents, however, were not too keen on the choice.

I promised them that I was only giving up my for-fun reading, not any of my school stuff. But that didn’t seem to be enough to get them any more into the decision.

I was a stubborn kid, though. And I was standing firm. Eventually, the convinced me to talk about it with my teacher. So, the next day, I walked into St. Patrick’s School, ready for my teacher to agree with me completely.

And be a little relieved, as well.

After all, she was the second teacher to tell my parents that I really shouldn't be trying to sneakily read during math and science. Wedging the book between my lap and the desk and “discreetly” looking down at it while pretending to take notes? Apparently not fooling anyone.

So, yes, I was expecting relief.

As soon as I told her, I could tell I wasn’t going to get the agreement I was looking for. She sat me down and told me that she thought it was very nice that I wanted to make such a big sacrifice, but that no one, especially God, wanted me to give up anything that was good for me. And reading, she was very insistent, was good for me. She told me that just like we shouldn’t give up food that makes our body stronger, we shouldn’t be giving up anything that makes out minds stronger.

In the face of all this unexpected exaltation of reading, how could I cast it aside, even temporarily? So, I chose a different sacrifice to make and kept on “hiding” my books under the desk (in retrospect, my teacher probably would have supported me giving up that one particular activity, but I was an all or nothing sort of kid).

And I learned that no matter how noble your intentions, reading is just too important to give up.

Perusing the Wanteds

This weekend I watched Safety Not Guaranteed (definitely worth a watch, by the way). The story is kicked off when a journalist and a couple of interns go to investigate a man who placed an unusual ad in the paper.

WANTED: Someone to go back in time with me. This is not a joke. You’ll get paid after we get back. Must bring your own weapons. I have only done this once before. Safety not guaranteed.

I thought a lot about whether or not I’d answer this ad. I mean, I’d certainly want to. A chance at time travel is pretty hard to pass up. I’m totally fine with not getting my money up front, but I would need a little more information about the target date and the purpose of the travel. If we’re going back for research purposes or to fix something, awesome. But if the placer of this ad is interested in screwing things up….well, then it’s even more important for me to go so that there’s someone there to try and stop him.

The ad that was displayed on Emma Trevayne's tumblr the other day, I would answer with less reservation. I don’t really have to many questions for the person who placed it. It’s fairly straightforward, provides good instruction, is clear that this is not an attack on all dragons, just the one. So, I wouldn’t have any problem following those bullets, but I would add another in between two and three. Prior to the discussed slaying, I would try to have a conversation with the dragon, see if I can get a better idea regarding what she’s looking for in OKC. I’m not sure I’m ready to take out such a creature if her only crime is that she caught the episode of Man V. Food where Adam Richman ends up in Oklahoma City, and subsequently had a yen for catfish.

After giving it the necessary thought, here are the other ads that I would be willing to answer:

• Gremlin wrangler. I have experience with mischief makers. Also, this job would probably help me in my efforts to avoid late night snacking.
• One-Eyed Willie’s treasure hunter. We all know that the bulk of Willie’s treasure was cast out to sea on an unmanned ship. I love being out on the water and I also believe myself to be fairly intuitive when it comes to spotting booby traps. I may not be able to get you to the ship, but once we’re there, I will ensure your safety. Money back guarantee. Provided we’re all still alive.
• Haunted house flipper. I know how to swing a hammer, have a decent eye for interior design, and don’t mind a few specters lurking whilst I work. The house may still be laden with spirits of the past, but when I’m done with it, it’s gonna look brand new. It should also be noted that I am the target demographic for buying such a property, as well.

Do not however, forward me anything for the following:

• Gorgon slayer. These ladies have gotten a bad rap. If my name meant “terrible” or “dreadful,” I’d probably be a little ticked off too. Despite their sometimes abrasive personalities, they can protect against evil and also do a bit of healing. So, just leave them alone.
• Unicorn hunter. You should just be ashamed of yourself.
• Mascot picking focus group member. Mascots are possibly the most terrifying things in the world and every time I see one coming toward me, I just want to punch it in its, generally comically oversized, head.

All right, folks, let me know which ads you’d be interested in seeing.

Until next time, see you in the classifieds!

History or Future?

Probably at this point we’ve all seen some version of the magical age change story. Whether it’s the child’s mind in a suddenly adult body, a la Big or 13 Going On 30. Or the 17 Again route, with the adult suddenly finding himself in a younger version of himself.

The hero or heroine makes a wish. A wish to be at a different place in their lives. To fast forward or rewind. To get to that ideal age where all problems disappear. To be young again and without responsibility. To be older, independent and in control of their own lives.

Or if not to reach an exact ideal age, then maybe speed things up a bit. Josh Baskin just wanted to be bigger.

It never quite works out as planned, of course. Because there is no true ideal age where lives is entirely without problems. There’s no real short cut to things, which is the point of these movies.

That being said, it would be kind of fun. Wouldn’t it? I mean, if I knew it was temporary, I think I’d enjoy some age bending insanity.

So, forward or back? I think I’d choose back. Maybe to about ten or eleven. We went to Niagara Falls that year and I got some pretty sweet Star Wars jigsaw puzzles. So, good times.

Though this choice has less to do with wanting to see if I can beat my best puzzle time and more to do with not wanting to know the future. Say I was suddenly transported to my seventies. Maybe my life is great, maybe it’s not. Either way, I have work to do when I’m put back into my regular body. If it’s good, gotta make sure I make all the right choices to get me there. If it’s not, then I need to figure out all the missteps made along the way. Takes all the fun out of living.

I like thinking about the possibilities of the future, hence my enjoyment of futuristic science fiction. But I don’t want to know anything for a fact. Ruins the surprise. And probably why I got my degree in history and not futurism.

What about you? Forward or back? 

Most Important Meal of the Day

My ability to suspend my disbelief is a fairly well-honed skill at this point in my life. I like fantastical stories. I want to believe in fantastical stories. So I do.

It’s that simple.

Most of the time.

There are however the rare things that I have trouble getting behind. This weekend I read Lisa Kleypas’ Dream Lake. A really lovely book. But for a stretch in the middle there’s a discussion of the hero going to get breakfast every morning at the inn where the heroine works. And all I could think was, Who has time to go out for breakfast every morning? Forget that, who has time for breakfast at all?

This is especially common in small town stories involving diners. There’s always the regular cast of characters showing up for their morning repast before heading off to their respective workplaces. In Gilmore Girls, Lorelai and Rory managed to get up, out of the house, walk to Luke’s Diner, order breakfast, eat breakfast, drink at least three cups of coffee a piece, and make it to work and school on time. Neither of which ever appeared to be within walking distance of the diner, particularly Rory’s school.

It was nothing short of amazing.

I mean, the characters in Friends did it too, but none of them ever seemed to have normal hours they were expected at their jobs. There’s no way anyone with a true 9-5 could ever spend that much time in a coffee shop.

But, the Gilmores did have places that they needed to get to on time. And they made it. After breakfasting.

I just don’t understand it.

It might just be me, though. I’m a ten minutes from my feet hitting the floor until I walk out the door kind of lady. Not that I don’t enjoy having more time to pull myself together, sleep just has a higher preference. Unless it’s a weekend or a holiday full breakfasts are never in the cards. My specialty is a granola bar once I’m at my desk.

But, before I rank this fictional eating up there with sticking your bare hand in a mysterious puddle of goo, I wanted to find out if this whole eating breakfast before work thing was something that a lot of people do out here in the real world.

So, am I the oddball here, or is this leaving enough time for a morning meal thing the stuff of legends?

The Eternal Question

Friday has arrived, my friends! The weekend is stretched out before us in all its glory and I'm readying myself for the traditional end-of-the-week dance.

And it shall be awesome.

But until it strikes end-of-work-o-clock, I'm distracting myself with sweet thoughts. Literally. I'm thinking about cake and pie. Because, why not?

I will say, I've struggled with myself over the years, trying to decide which I preferred. Cake or pie. Pie or cake. I think we can all agree, they're both awesome (and if we can't agree on that, we're probably not the soul mates I imagined). But who wins in the ultimate battle for our taste buds?

I've done my research. Consulted expert after expert. I rented Waitress, recorded Cake Boss. I've listened to every song on Lisa Loeb's "Cake and Pie." I've learned what happens when you get baked into a cake and that pies can be a bit dangerous. I've sent my resume to The Pie Hole....possibly more than once. 

Pretty much left no stone unturned.

Ultimately, it seems, though, there is no one answer to this question. It's something all people must decide for themselves.

Through much soul searching and teeth gnawing and the filling out of this handy dandy bracket, I have discovered that pie has the advantage in my world.

I'm a pie girl.

There, I said it.

What are you?

Organizational Peeves

I love my Roomie dearly. Best friends for eight and a half years. She’s a lovely person with many fine qualities.

When I look at her bookshelf I want to punch her in the tooth.

It has nothing to do with her tastes in reading. I’m absolutely of a to-each-his-own mentality when it comes to that. Read whatever you want. I am not, however, so open minded when it comes to the organization of one’s bookshelf.

You see, the Roomie does not separate fiction from non-fiction and it fills me with burning fury.

Having just written that sentence, I want to make it clear that, yes, I do realize how ridiculous I sound. 

But it just drives me so crazy.

I don’t expect her to arrange it exactly as I do – non-fiction then fiction, with sub-sections of genre – though, let’s face it, it would be nice. Nor do I expect her to start using library cards like the one another friend gave me, that have me itching to lend out my books. (It came with a date stamp and everything!)

But seriously, fiction and non-fiction all mixed up? I go in there to peruse the shelves and, with the exception of Harry Potter, have no idea what I’m going to pull.

It’s anarchy.

Just makes me want to sneak in there and set things right.

Then I realize I’m having a Sheldon Cooper moment and resist.

But it’s not easy.

Okay, now that I’ve shared my weekly does of crazy, let’s hear yours.

Oh, you don’t have any?

Just me that’s crazy, huh?

Well, that’s fine, too.

*awkward crickets*

Reeling Me In

The play may be the thing wherein Hamlet caught the conscience of the King, but the first sentence is the thing that catches the attention of all of us peasants.

I read a lot about writing and frequently the topic of grabbing the audience comes up. A lot of people say that you have to pull in the reader with your very first line.

So, I decided to pull some books at random from my shelves and see what they had to offer.

The Kitchen Daughter (Jael McHenry)

“Bad things come in threes.”

Not only do I immediately know that things aren’t all bright and shiny in the world I’m about to enter, I know that there are going to be three specific issues. So, now even if the very next sentence tells me what the first bad thing is, I have to stick around to find out about the other two.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time (Mark Haddon)

“It was 7 minutes after midnight.”

At first I wasn’t really sure what struck me about this line, even though I did want to read more. Then I realized that it was the specificity of the time. Saying it was just after midnight isn’t particularly enthralling, but now I want to know why it’s important that it’s exactly seven minutes past. And who it’s important to.

The Picture of Dorian Gray (Oscar Wilde)

“The studio was filled with the rich odor of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amid the trees of the garden there came through the open door the heavy scent of lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.”

This is a beautiful sentence, but probably my least favorite of the first sentences here, which surprised me, because I’ve always really enjoyed this book. Despite giving me a vivid mental picture of the room, it doesn’t give me an immediate reason to care about why I’m there.

Halfway to the Grave (Jeaniene Frost)

“I stiffened at the red and blue lights flashing behind me, because there was no way I could explain what was in the back of my truck.”

What the hell’s in the back of her truck? Is the cop going to find it? What’s going to happen next?!?!

At Last (Jill Shalvis)

“I’m not lost,” Amy Michaels said to the squirrel watching her for his perch on a tree branch.

As someone who has a tendency to talk to animals, myself, and inanimate objects with regularity, I immediately feel for this character. I want her to get found. Much like I wanted myself to get found when I was insisting to my car the other day that I knew where I was going. (Totally didn’t.)

Bloodline (James Rollins)

“They once called her a witch and a whore.”

Them there’s fightin’ words. What exactly did she do to earn such unfortunate nicknames? And more importantly, why don’t they call her those things anymore?

The Indian in the Cupboard (Lynne Reid Banks)

“It was not that Omri didn’t appreciate Patrick’s birthday present to him.”

What did Patrick give him and why does it suck so much? Because, come on, if you use that many negatives in a sentence, you’re not really thrilled with the gift. Now, tell me why.

From my very teensy sampling, I can see why first lines are so important. I feel fairly confident that if I had never read any of these books before and was asked to decide on whether I would by reading only the first sentence, all but Mr. Wilde’s would be on my bedside table.

It seems that the most important thing to me is that I be left with a question after reading the first line. Something or someone I want to know more about. Once I have that, I’m hooked.

What do you look for in a first sentence?

The Elevator Test

I don’t know about you, but I can make it through a dinner party with pretty much anyone. I mean, there’s food. There are very people I can’t put up with for a least a couple hours if the food is good.

Now, I’ve certainly thought about which literary characters I would invite to my fantasy dinner party. Somehow, though, I always end up with a character who I know is going to make me furious – or perhaps even make some attempts on my life and those of the other guests – on the guest list.

I’ve always wanted to know, for instance, what it was that sent Montresor over the edge. Perhaps if I had a couple casks at my party I could get him to open up. But seeing as I don’t know the answer to the question, a dinner party, in a public location, with the police on standby, seems the safest bet.   

But if I’m trying to think of literary character who I would legitimately want to spend some time with, I nix the food. Instead I come up with a group with whom I wouldn’t mind being stuck on an elevator.

Elevators are awkward.

These tiny boxes where you’re forced to stand closer to strangers than you would normally choose. You can avoid eye contact and pretend like you’re totally alone, but that only works if there is unspoken agreement among everyone to do so. Once eye contact is made, that’s out. Then you need to decide on the half smile/half grimace combo or come up with something truly witty to contribute to the ride (‘Yeah, elevators. Right?”).

Ergo, a fantasy elevator break-down is, to me, a much better test of my affection for a character.

Now, I never do more than five. Because no matter how much I love someone, over six people stuck in an elevator is just too monstrous to conceive.

Making it on to my current list of characters I’d be willing to wait out the fire department with is:

-          Katie Chandler – On the off chance it’s anything mystical that’s keeping the elevator from moving, I want someone there who can let me know what’s what.

-          Remus Lupin – A gentleman with a habit of keeping his cool in stressful situations and always has chocolate on him? No brainer. Plus we can pass some time seeing if he can pull the wool over Katie’s eyes. (Caveat – Lupin would sadly not be invited if this breakdown was taking place during a full moon. He would still totally be able to come to the dinner party though.)

-          Wes Janson – His over-the-top personality would be a nice contrast to Lupin’s more reserved demeanor. Plus he has countless stories and needs little to no prompting to share them. I’m always up for a good yarn, especially when I have to figure out which parts are true and which are, shall we say, embellishments. Plus, if he goes on for too long, Lupin can always break out the silencing charm.

-          Hercule Poirot – It would just be really fun to watch his reactions to Lupin and Janson. I’m guessing he’d spend the entire time trying to prove that any spells cast are merely shams that he can easily figure out.

-          Elizabeth Bennet – She strikes me as someone I could exchange sarcastic comments with, which is a must in such situations. She would totally call Janson out on his stories and probably be able to out-manner Poirot. And I think she’d handle the presence of magic better than most nineteenth (or twenty-first) century folks.

All in all, I think it would be a fairly entertaining way to spend an afternoon.

So, who would you be willing to spend a couple hours in an elevator with?

Idea Overload

I love writing.

But occasionally I get a little carried away.

You see, I’ll start off with the best of intentions. As I drift off into the Neverland of dreams, suddenly the greatest idea in the world will come to me. And I will think, Yes! This is the story I must write!

And sometimes it is (though not necessarily the story that I must write right now). Other times it’s just the overtired brain vomit of someone all hopped up on candy canes and gingerbread men – A steampunk mystery romance picture book about a turnip and a dragon who needs a root canal. Best. Idea. Ever.

Not quite.

But if in the light of day it still seems to have merit, I’ll buckle down and start writing random snippets of information. Character names. Background info – like what he did for his eighth birthday or how she got that tiny scar between her thumb and index finger – stuff that will never actually be in the main story, but is good for me to know. Then I’ll start writing actual sentences. Now, they’re probably not very good sentences this first time around, but they are indeed a string of words that make sense together. Which is the first big hurdle. Sentences can be tweaked later into something that’s actually good, but only if they are already there for the tweaking. If I try to craft the most perfect, glorious, divine sentence in round one, I’m never getting to round two.

Anyway, I’ll get all hunkered down, writing cap securely on (for which I favor the fedora, by the way). And suddenly, the proverbial bolt of lightning will strike once again. Another idea! Awesome! Now I have something I know I can work on when I finish this one. But what if idea two is better? Maybe I should focus on that one, come back to idea one later. But I like idea one. Still, idea two sounds great. Maybe I should try to write both.

And then, as though I’ve set up metal rods in my brain, the lightning strikes come down full force. So many ideas! I love them all! Yeah, turnips and dragons with dental problems! That one wasn’t so bad! I should write them all! I should write all the things!

ALL THE THINGS.

Ten minutes later the Roomie finds me curled up under the dining room table, shaking and muttering nonsensically to myself about how I think I should be the snow-time wizard and won’t give the marshmallows back until I am. And other equally disturbing assertions.

Over time, my brain does eventually unfry itself (for the most part. There’s always a residual singe). And I cautiously return to writing. Ideas still keep coming, but now the most attention I will give them is to write them down on a napkin, or my hand, or the Roomie’s face – whatever’s closest. After that, if they keep nagging me, I punch those ideas right in the face. Not now, ideas! We can be friends later! (See, residual singeing.)

So, in conclusion, I haven’t completely mastered the discipline of focus yet. But, worst comes to absolute worst, you can probably expect something from me in the draco/root vegetable genre at some point.

Now I must buckle down and focus on my one (hear that brain? ONE.) current work in progress.

Tonight’s Christmas Viewing:

• Batman Returns
• “Chuck Versus the Santa” (Chuck)
• “Afternoon Delight” (Arrested Development)

Just wear some gloves....that's all I'm asking

I’m going to let you in on a little secret about me.

Never – not once – in my life have I seen a mysterious puddle and thought, You know what? I should really stick my fingers in that and then smell it.

Never.

But I’m starting to wonder if I’m in the minority. Why else would so many of the different TV shows I watch have people doing just that? Particularly, of course, in crime fighting stories.

You think that the mysterious puddle might have bearing on your case? Just stick your fingers right on in.

Here’s a little spoiler alert – no crime scene puddles are ever going to smell good. And even if you are a genius who can use your olfactory sense to ascertain exactly who the culprit is, do you really want to walk around with your hand smelling like that for the rest of the day. Get a pair of gloves and take a legitimate sample, you weirdo.

Then there are the characters who even sticking their fingers in things is just not enough. So they taste it. In the pilot episode of Eureka, U.S. Marshal Jack Carter decides to lend a hand in finding a little boy who has gone missing. While looking through the family’s camper, he finds dark smears on the wall. When he is told by DOD Agent Alison Blake that it’s blood, he disputes her assumption by reaching out, putting some on his finger and licking it. Thankfully for him, it’s chocolate.

Now, the audience finds out that he did indeed see the candy bar wrapper before doing this. So, maybe I can excuse the deductive leap that you can’t find a candy bar wrapper and blood smears in the same place. I don’t think I, personally, am that confident. But even if I was absolutely sure it was chocolate, I still don’t see myself opting to eat sugary sweetness off a camper wall that was smeared there by a little boy’s sweaty hand. Not even to prove a point.

I’m a big fan of suspending my disbelief and generally find that I have a very easy time doing so. FBI show where agents walk around the street and chat about the confidential file they’re passing back and forth? I’ll overlook it. Every single criminal who is caught giving a full and detailed confession? Okay. Lab results available almost immediately? Fine with me.

But that this many law enforcement officers and consultants keep sticking their ungloved fingers in unknown substances? Nope.

How about you? Ever think, Well, maybe if I just touch that I’ll be imbued with the answers to all the universe’s questions?

Costume Considerations

Earlier this week I was having a conversation with a coworker regarding Halloween costumes. Her daughters have just started brainstorming as to what the perfect outfits would be for this year’s All Hallows Eve. I applaud them not only for waiting until we had broken in October (regardless of how barely) to discuss the topic of Halloween costumes and also for understanding that such decisions can not be taken lightly.

At least not if you’re me.

I used to spend hours and hours deciding on what would be the perfect Halloween costume. After all, I was a kid who liked to dress up like characters from stories on normal days, so Halloween had to have a little something special.

Here are a five of my favorite story-inspired costumes through the years.

1.

 

Oh, you don’t remember the story of the clown and the football-loving wolf man? How strange. Okay, fine, this costume didn’t come from a story, but I just thought you might want to see the origin of my consideration of clown as a valid career option.

2. 

One of my all time favorite costumes. I wanted to be an Animorph (natch), but couldn’t figure out how to do it. My mother suggested a brilliant way to show both the human and morph side and I happily cut a pair of jeans and a shirt in half. Result: Magic.

3. 

Who gets through high school without occasionally feeling a little evil? Not me. Perfect outlet: Cruella Devil. I filled the pocket of that coat with Dalmatian stuffed animals and got the lovely Odysseus to suffer the indignity of posing as my next victim. (Hey, he could have had it worse. He was almost named Cupcake. *shudders*)

Over the years, I also started to draw others into my web of insanity. Case in point: Roomie (who has been kind enough to sanction the use of her photo for these last two examples).

4. 

Proof that we’re Freakin’ Friends. At least until we come to bad ends.

5. 

One of us is a genius, the other insane. Just don’t expect us to agree on which is which (or if both are both). I can, however, say that, generally speaking, we do like do the same thing every night.

Okay, your turn now. What are your favorite past Halloween costumes? Are you planning to dress up this year?

Also, since I am such a fan of all things dress up, I would love to feature some of your past Halloween costumes on the blog. If you’re interested in being awesome, shoot me an email at countlesslives@gmail.com!

Point of Origin

Sometimes my mind is very similar to an elementary school class. All these different thoughts clamoring for attention. Each yelling, “Pick me! Pick me!”

And I’m standing up in front of the room, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

This is even more true when I start to work on new stories. When I was at Backspace in May, I heard a number of authors speak about what their starting point for a story is. Some said location, the setting dictating what comes next. Others conceive first of an inciting event and build their plot around it. And a third group starts with the main character or characters.

From what I heard, each one of these approaches to the creation of a story can yield fantastic results. Still, I’m pretty sure that I will always fall into that last group. For me, everything starts with the character.

This may be because I have so many running around in my head (cue the men with the butterfly nets). All of these different individuals with crazy back stories that will likely never be used in whatever tale I ultimately spin, but will greatly affect the way the characters behave in those stories.

One of the greatest challenges in the process is deciding which one to choose. Which one gets to come up to the front of the class first and have his or her say. Generally, I’ll let a few of them tell me a few fun facts about themselves before I decide who gets to make a full presentation.

Once the final choice is made, I spend some time really getting to know the character. Inevitably, I’ll find myself thinking, Man, I’d really like to see how she’d deal with this situation.

And the story begins.

How about the rest of your writers out there? Where do your stories start?

Genre Faves Blogfest

Hey everyone!

This morning (thanks to Liz Fichera), I'm participating in the "Genre Faves Blogfest." Interested in joining in? Go visit Ninja Captain Alex!

The challenge is to list your favorite genre of movies, musics and books, PLUS a guilty pleasure from any one of those categories. This is certainly a difficult one for me. As you know, I tend to be mildly obsessed with all three of these areas (except, you know, minus the "mildly"). So, here are today's Kelly's answers. Who knows what tommorow's Kelly would say about this.


Movies: Screwball comedies from the mid '30s to mid '40s. (Starting with the famous Walls of Jericho all the way through to the Brewster aunts' elderberry wine.)

Music: Jazz (particularly anything by Ella Fitzgerald)

Books: Contemporary fantasy (give me a modern setting populated by myth and magic, I'm there)

Guilty Pleasure: Oh goodness, I have so many. I've already mentioned one of my movie ones (and I share Roomie's. Yes, that does mean that I spent $15 to see Step Up 3D in the theater. Stop judging.), so here's one for the books. Ghost stories. My family and I went to a lot of historical (particularly Civil War) sites when I was a kid. Could never resist picking up a book of local ghost stories. The habit still stands.


There are mine. Now, let's hear yours!

Show or Tell?

There was a whole mess of time spent in the car this past weekend. So, naturally, conversation eventually focused in on the only question it could: Who is the scariest cartoon Disney villain?

There was a lot of thought given to this, but the general consensus in the vehicle was that The Lion King’s Scar held the title. The reason for this was ultimately very simple – we watched Scar do his evil.

A lot of the other villains were known to be evil. We knew that Cruella de Vil liked to skin puppies, but we never actually saw her skin any puppies. Maleficent called herself the “Mistress of All Evil,” but I’m going to have to take her word on it because the worst we ever saw her do was turn into a big dragon and leave out a spindle that makes one particular girl super sleepy.

Jafar’s fairly sleazy and has the whole mind control thing going. Plus we know he has the authority to put people to death. So, there’s some power there. But all that really plays out on screen is that he likes to manipulate people and really wants the lamp. Gaston’s an entitled goofball who never once indicates that he has the brains to beat Belle or sufficient brawn to take on the Beast.

All of these villains have grandiose evil plans that, if successful, could have made them contenders for being truly scary. But therein lays the rub. They’re not successful. They’re thwarted time and again.

Then there’s Scar. We don’t just hear rumors that he’s not really a nice guy. No, we watch him kill his own brother – a character who we first spend time with and grow to love (because seriously, who doesn’t love Mufasa?). But even that’s not enough. Scar then convinces a little boy that he is responsible for the death, runs the kingdom straight into the ground with his hyena stormtroopers, hits on his dead brother’s wife, and then tries to fight the adult Simba to the death. Sure, he loses in the end, but we get to see him have a bunch of victories first. Each evil moment was played out on our television screens.

The only other Disney contender who really comes close to Scar in my mind, in terms of evil playing out on screen, is The Hunchback of Notre Dame’s Judge Claude Frollo. If you haven’t already, check him out. Dude’s terrifying.

Why are these characters so much scarier than the Maleficents and Jafars? Because we’re not told they’re the villains, we’re shown. And those are the scenes that stick with us after the credits roll.