Tomorrow I'm leaving for London.
What?
I never thought I'd be able to say that. Why am I going? Well, I have an internship. I'm not allowed to say much about it, so let's just suffice it to say I'm training to be a CIA agent. Just kidding about that part.
But anyway, I've never been overseas or flown alone. I'm directionally challenged, but hey, at least they speak English over there. I was expressing my concerns about navigation, transportation, times, working, not knowing what to expect, etc., and my aunt said, "Melissa, it's called an ADVENTURE."
After raising an eyebrow and considering that statement for a moment, I realized that she's right.
Adventure: n. 1. an unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity. 2. daring and exciting activity calling for enterprise and enthusiasm.
That about sums it up.
I'll be over there for a month, and with any luck, I'll get to eat a lot of fish and chips, meet some awesome people, learn a ton about communications, experience the city, and maybe even pick up a bit of an accent.
Goodbye USA! It's been legit. I'll be back, but not for a while.
Prayers for safety are appreciated. :)
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Five Woes of a Writer
In case I haven't talked about it enough, I'll just say it again: I'm writing a book.
It's over 200 pages, and the rough draft was supposed to be completed by now. But I'm running into a few problems, most of which are rooted in perfectionism. The following are five problems I generally encounter and am specifically encountering in this book venture.
1. I know my characters too well. It's so weird. It's like I'm not making them up, but they already exist. I'm not telling them how they are; that IS how they are, and it's my job to portray them correctly. It's like trying to describe your best friend to a stranger in five minutes. It's impossible! I just want to spend pages and pages describing the appearance, history, opinions, thoughts, and ideas of each and every character, and I just know this isn't that sort of book. But maybe it should be.
2. Too many plot lines. Sure, I've got one general plot line. But then there are all these little branches here and there, and I'm kind of obsessed with them. I sit up in bed suddenly with another idea for a subplot, and I can't sleep until I write it down. It's like the subplot is already there, and it would just be a lie not to add it in. Too many subplots make for a confusing, poorly constructed story if you're not careful. It's like trying to eat a five-inch thick sandwich without spilling it everywhere.
3. Originality paranoia. I spend a great deal of time contemplating originality. What is originality? What makes something really original? The fact alone that I'm writing in English at times makes me feel unoriginal. I've written about an old man. THERE ARE OLD PEOPLE IN OTHER STORIES! I AM A PLAGIARIZING FOOL! If any part of my plot is even related to another story I've heard of, sometimes I just freak out. I'm obsessed with originality. I admit it.
4. Endings. The end of the book is like a misbehaving child. You really want to be proud of it, but it's just so unpredictable and usually not at all what you planned. Even if I have the entire ending planned out, those last few pages often spit their lollipop wrappers everywhere and leave gum under the couch for me to find. I've determined that the end of this book is going to be so epic that the reader will turn the page again and again, unable to accept the fact that it's the end. They'll cry after the fourth or fifth time and probably have to be locked alone in their room for at least a week. Then they'll probably need therapy until the next book comes out. Totally kidding. But not.
5. My best. I have this mindset sometimes that I'm not good enough or talented enough for whatever writing project I'm working on. My vocabulary isn't good enough; the pacing of the book isn't good enough; I don't know enough about writing. I always seem to return to my finished or unfinished projects several years later and think to myself how terrible it is and how I would rewrite it or do it better. I guess that's good because it means I'm always improving, but just once I want to write something so good that I won't want to change anything about it.
It's over 200 pages, and the rough draft was supposed to be completed by now. But I'm running into a few problems, most of which are rooted in perfectionism. The following are five problems I generally encounter and am specifically encountering in this book venture.
1. I know my characters too well. It's so weird. It's like I'm not making them up, but they already exist. I'm not telling them how they are; that IS how they are, and it's my job to portray them correctly. It's like trying to describe your best friend to a stranger in five minutes. It's impossible! I just want to spend pages and pages describing the appearance, history, opinions, thoughts, and ideas of each and every character, and I just know this isn't that sort of book. But maybe it should be.
2. Too many plot lines. Sure, I've got one general plot line. But then there are all these little branches here and there, and I'm kind of obsessed with them. I sit up in bed suddenly with another idea for a subplot, and I can't sleep until I write it down. It's like the subplot is already there, and it would just be a lie not to add it in. Too many subplots make for a confusing, poorly constructed story if you're not careful. It's like trying to eat a five-inch thick sandwich without spilling it everywhere.
3. Originality paranoia. I spend a great deal of time contemplating originality. What is originality? What makes something really original? The fact alone that I'm writing in English at times makes me feel unoriginal. I've written about an old man. THERE ARE OLD PEOPLE IN OTHER STORIES! I AM A PLAGIARIZING FOOL! If any part of my plot is even related to another story I've heard of, sometimes I just freak out. I'm obsessed with originality. I admit it.
4. Endings. The end of the book is like a misbehaving child. You really want to be proud of it, but it's just so unpredictable and usually not at all what you planned. Even if I have the entire ending planned out, those last few pages often spit their lollipop wrappers everywhere and leave gum under the couch for me to find. I've determined that the end of this book is going to be so epic that the reader will turn the page again and again, unable to accept the fact that it's the end. They'll cry after the fourth or fifth time and probably have to be locked alone in their room for at least a week. Then they'll probably need therapy until the next book comes out. Totally kidding. But not.
5. My best. I have this mindset sometimes that I'm not good enough or talented enough for whatever writing project I'm working on. My vocabulary isn't good enough; the pacing of the book isn't good enough; I don't know enough about writing. I always seem to return to my finished or unfinished projects several years later and think to myself how terrible it is and how I would rewrite it or do it better. I guess that's good because it means I'm always improving, but just once I want to write something so good that I won't want to change anything about it.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Free Indeed
Your annoying neighbor with that stupid dog that won't stop barking.
Your favorite teacher who challenges you to learn more.
That lady at the bank who never smiles.
The mailman who always forgets to put your boxes in the shade, even when you've asked more than once.
Your grandma who lives across the country.
A stranger you pass on the street every Tuesday morning on your way to the market.
What do they all have in common?
They're all Americans.
We all love America, and that's one of the many things that unites us. United? Yes. That's why we're the United States of America. I'm proud to be an American, and I am so blessed to live here.
Over spring break I visited Ground Zero. It had been over a decade since that fateful day in September, and I'd had several other opportunities to visit the site, but I didn't want to. This time everyone I was with decided to go, so I didn't really have a choice.
I thought it would be depressing, thought it would remind me too much of the horrors of that day. The experience, however, was different from what I thought. Seeing the yawning expanses in the ground that were larger than I imagined them to be did strike my heart with a sense of awe and doleful nostalgia for what used to be there and for the many lives that were lost that day. But they managed to turn the wreckage of something so awful into a site of American memory, honor, and respect. What happened on that day was awful, no two ways about it, but where they tried to destroy the spirit of Americans, I think the disaster made people come together.
United. Yes, we are. We're free, and that's why we celebrate with fireworks, barbecues, family gatherings, and much more. God bless America, and may we continue to be blessings to the world around us as well.
Your favorite teacher who challenges you to learn more.
That lady at the bank who never smiles.
The mailman who always forgets to put your boxes in the shade, even when you've asked more than once.
Your grandma who lives across the country.
A stranger you pass on the street every Tuesday morning on your way to the market.
What do they all have in common?
They're all Americans.
We all love America, and that's one of the many things that unites us. United? Yes. That's why we're the United States of America. I'm proud to be an American, and I am so blessed to live here.
Over spring break I visited Ground Zero. It had been over a decade since that fateful day in September, and I'd had several other opportunities to visit the site, but I didn't want to. This time everyone I was with decided to go, so I didn't really have a choice.
I thought it would be depressing, thought it would remind me too much of the horrors of that day. The experience, however, was different from what I thought. Seeing the yawning expanses in the ground that were larger than I imagined them to be did strike my heart with a sense of awe and doleful nostalgia for what used to be there and for the many lives that were lost that day. But they managed to turn the wreckage of something so awful into a site of American memory, honor, and respect. What happened on that day was awful, no two ways about it, but where they tried to destroy the spirit of Americans, I think the disaster made people come together.
United. Yes, we are. We're free, and that's why we celebrate with fireworks, barbecues, family gatherings, and much more. God bless America, and may we continue to be blessings to the world around us as well.
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