"There a star danced, and under that was I born."
The Hobbit – next December. I’ve been trying to contain my excitement, given my disappointment over how the LotR trilogy went, but between the casting (Richard Armitage as Thorin could not be more perfect – Martin Freeman IS Bilbo – Benedict Cumberbatch as Smaug just makes me want to shriek with delight, etc etc) and now this trailer …
Well, excitement abounds. No containing it anymore.
SQUEE!
… are on your Christmas wish list?
I’ve been very naughty this year and buying most books that I want myself, as I want them, but there are a few I’ve managed to hold off on, just in case. These are the sorts of books that, if they don’t appear under the tree, will end up in my hands (or on my computer, for e-book versions) in early January.
First! Death Come to Pemberley, by PD James. Confession: I’ve never actually read any of James’ books, but come on, a published Jane Austen fanfic by a well-known mystery writer? How could I not want this book? The only thing that would make it better would be if it were a Persuasion mystery – can’t you just see Anne and Frederick as Tommy and Tuppence (except I think Anne would by Tommy, and Frederick Tuppence), or Nick and Nora? Someone needs to write that story.
Next: all the books in the Austin Family Chronicles by Madeleine L’Engle. As I mentioned recently, A Ring of Endless Light is a book that has been a tremendous help to me whenever I get discouraged. I’ve actually never read any of the rest of the series, but I would like to own them, so that I might read them as slowly as I want, in order to properly savor them.
The e-book version of Shadow Magic, by Patricia C Wrede. I am an enormous Wrede fan, and when I saw that the Lyra, some of her earliest ones (and ones I’ve not read yet), were available as e-books … well, let’s just say I was really, really glad that I’d downloaded that Kindle app a week earlier.
Also by Wrede, I’ve been (im)patiently waiting for the paperback release of Across the Great Barrier – I have Thirteenth Child in paperback, and I like my books in a series to match, but hey, if someone wanted to pre-order this for me, I wouldn’t complain (hint hint, Santa).
And then there’s the book that I remember so fondly from my childhood, and would like to have to keep and to read to my girls: Once upon a Time in the Meadow. This story of six cousins and the bunny they rescue from the trap is sweet and heartwarming, and like I said, brings me back to my childhood as soon as I see the distinctive illustrations.
So there you have it! Not a tremendously extensive list, since, as I said, I tend to buy most of my book-fancies for myself, but enough to probably include Christmas and my birthday in a few months! (My 30th birthday – I am sososososososo not ready to think about that yet.)
What books do you have on your Christmas wish list?
My new favorite spot to write is here: in the grey recliner in the corner of the living room, half-hidden by the Christmas tree but with a good view out the enormous picture window.
Although since downloading the Kindle app for Macs the other day, I’ve been doing less writing and more reading on my laptop. Not sure this was the best idea after all! I’m also having a terrible time not just buying any e-book that catches my fancy. Something about this instant gratification thing that is tremendously addictive, and dangerous. I have to keep reminding myself that this is real money I am spending, even if they aren’t “real” (ie, paper) books.
Sigh.
But back to the writing. I really have been working, even if much of that work does look like I am just sitting and staring into space. After filling out a basic outline for the Celtic YA fantasy (and was I ever surprised to find myself working on that one again – I figured it was going to take much longer before I was ready to even look at that again, given my Frustrations with it on the last round), I’ve been doing much pondering about how things should go, and careful consideration of my writing style for this one (the source of much of my frustration before – no matter how much I wanted to keep a wryly humorous tone, it would insist on taking itself too seriously, and getting Grim and Depressing). I even have part of the first chapter written – and this is actually more progress than one might think, since (for me) as the first chapter goes, so goes the rest of the book. Plus I can reuse a decent amount of material from the last draft, so once I get past these new beginning bits, a lot of what is going on will be cutting-and-pasting with new (hopefully amusing) filler in between the old stuff.
I had planned to work more on my MG fantasy since finishing the first draft of the 1920s ms, but the muse stirred for this one, so I am bowing to her whims. As long as I am working on one of my plethora of unfinished projects, I’m not particularly fussy as to which one.
Especially since recently I found my research notes and partial outline for the story I had planned on writing this year, the one that got shuffled aside in favor of the 1920s story and the Celtic rewrite. Starsong, the one set in a Renaissance world with a heroine inspired by the Maya culture.
And I really, really want to start working on that one again, but with a second draft needed for the 1920s ms, a picture book to indie publish by this summer (that’s the goal, anyway), a Celtic rewrite needing to be finished, and an MG fantasy impatiently reminding me that it’s been the one sitting around waiting to be finished the longest …
I am Not! Starting! Anything! New! Some people (those with sanity) would tell me this is too much as it is. And they would probably be right.
But it’s fun.
My girls are 4 and 2 1/2, and I thought I’d share some of their current favorite books, in case there are any parents/grandparents/aunts/uncles/close friends who are interested in good books for very small people.
Anything by Beatrix Potter. Their current favorites are the nursery rhyme books: Cecily Parsley and Appley Dapply. They also like The Tale of Timmy Tiptoes, Jemima Puddleduck, and Mrs Tittlemouse (Grace goes around all the time saying “Sank ‘oo, ‘sank ‘oo, mouse*,” in a very credible imitation of pompous Mr Jackson).
White Rabbit’s Color Book. This is one of Grandpa’s stories that he keeps for the littles. Grace asks about it the entire car ride whenever we go and visit (that’s four hours straight, by the way). They love learning about the mixing of colors, and I think they both (especially Grace) identify with the inquisitive White Rabbit.
Along those same lines, The Color Kittens is another favorite. I’ve been slowly increasing our collection of Little Golden Books; this one they like the best so far. We can’t get through a day without one or both of them asking me what color comes from mixing _____ (insert any two colors of choice here), and then correcting me if I get it wrong.
Joy more than Grace loves this Classic Fairy Tales book, another one that Grandpa picked up at the used bookstore and gave us to take home. Carl reads this to them often, and Joy knows most of the stories well enough by now that she can go through it by herself and recite the stories.
Footprints and Shadows is lovely. I found it at a used bookstore and couldn’t believe someone had sold it. The littles love the quiet rhythm of the words, and I get enchanted by the illustrations. It has actually inspired me to attempt more picture books, and I even have a plot simmering in the back of my brain for the next one!
Any of the books in the Stranger in the Woods series are perennial favorites, adored ever since the littles were babies. They are especially fun in the wintertime.
They are both just starting to appreciate the wacky humor of Dr Seuss. Grace loves her ABC book, and I bought Joy One Fish, Two Fish for Christmas, and this is ONE present I’m fairly certain (rap wood) she won’t reject after opening.
Jan Brett is another one whose books the girls love – any and all of them. On Noah’s Ark and The Owl and the Pussycat are their favorites, but now that Christmas is coming, I suspect they will want to read The Gingerbread Baby over and over (and over and over) again.
Grace is still a little young for them, but Joy enjoys Madeline and Babar, and they both like Curious George (although the first time I re-read the first book since I was a kid, last year, I was horrified at it – the Man in the Yellow Hat kidnaps George, and then George gets arrested for accidentally dialing a wrong number because the Man in the Yellow Hat just goes off and leaves him alone and loose in the apartment (AFTER KIDNAPPING HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE) … the whole thing is dreadful. Give me Babar’s communism any day).
Finally, they also both like listening to the CD of the Jesus Storybook Bible (GREAT for long car rides), and even though I find myself choking up at various stories when I try to read it aloud (Abraham and Isaac? BAWL), they also like to have it read to them by Mamma or Papa.
So there you have it! Any books little people in your life adore that I ought to look into adding to our collection?
*that translates to “Thank you, thank you, Mrs Tittlemouse.”
I did not start on my Shakespeare reading this week. I was going to – I had borrowed The Taming of the Shrew from the library, and sat down at the computer to skim over the summary first (my preferred way of reading Shakespeare, since otherwise I lose much appreciation for the language in trying to decipher the plot and keep all the character straight).
And considering that in my reading of the summary I decided that Petruchio was an abusive jerk that Kate should have poisoned at their wedding feast, I figured I wasn’t exactly in the best mindset to read Shakespeare this week. Maybe I should start with Hamlet?
We have been plagued with mice all week long; Carl finally brought home new traps Saturday evening and we caught six – SIX – in a four-hour period. Have not seen any since, though I am planning on using a combination of peppermint oil and mothballs to keep them out until we’ve had a chance to talk to our landlords and find out if they want to bring in a professional to seal every crack and cranny.
So the mice might have soured my appreciation for the Bard. I certainly was not in any mood to read any Redwall books, either.
I did, however, read The Queen of Attolia, which prompted me to re-read my recently purchased copy of The Thief, because it had been a while since I read it and some of the details were a bit fuzzy. In case you are one of the few people on the planet who (like me) hasn’t read this fantastic series by Megan Whalen Turner, go to your library now and start borrowing them. They are incredibly good. So good that, even though I need to be packing today for going up to my parents’ for Thanksgiving, I’m still planning on making a library run to get the next two books in the series. I really, really wish I could read in the car without getting sick!
I also recently finished the Song of the Lioness quartet – I’ve been friends with Kel and Aly for a few years now, and recently with Beka Cooper, but I’d never been able to find all the Alanna books until we’d moved and gone to a new library. I was bitterly disappointed in the ending of the fourth book (villains NEED more motivation than just, hey, let’s destroy the world for kicks, even though it’s going to destroy me too), but at least it gave me enough background to read the Immortals series. Alanna will never replace Kel as my favorite Tamora Pierce heroine, though.
My writing goals are still out of reach. I have two – TWO – chapters left in my 1920s fantasy-adventure, and do you think I’ve been able to write them? No, because I’ve been scrubbing my floors and counters every other day to get rid of mouse droppings! By the time Carl’s home from work and the littles are in bed, I’ve been able to do little more than collapse in bed or on the couch and either read YA fantasy, or watch my newly-purchased first season of Star Trek: Voyager. (Chakotay is STILL my favorite character out of the entire Star Trek canon, although Worf is a close second. Picard is right on Worf’s heels as third. What can I say? I really, really like nobility, goodness, and conflict within oneself in my heroes.)
However, I am tentatively hopeful that maybe this evening, after my packing is finished, or perhaps while we’re at home, in between cooking and cleaning and practicing makeup techniques with my sister, I might be able to squeeze out those 5,000 words.
Because wow, November has flown by. Can you believe it’s almost December? I am starting a new tradition for our family this year – 25 days of Advent activities (or candy, on those days when my inspiration ran out) leading up to Christmas.
Christmas, my friends! It’s just a little over a month away!
Are you a fan of any or all the Star Trek shows? Do you have a favorite character? What good books have you been reading lately? Can anyone tell me if I missed something crucial at the end of Lioness Rampant explaining the villain’s actions and goals a little more clearly? Am I reading too much into The Taming of the Shrew? Do you have exciting plans for Thanksgiving?
I am not a book reviewer, and this blog is not a review blog. I adore book review blogs. I just don’t review very well. I have a hard time being objective, and looking at something as either well-done or poorly-done, instead of “I liked this” or “this irritated the heck out of me.”
However. I am re-reading Persuasion for, I don’t know, the seventh time? Tenth? I don’t keep track of how often I read books, honestly. I know I started reading Austen back in my college days, and have re-read her books many times since. Sense and Sensibility is my least favorite – I would venture so far as to say I rather dislike it, mostly because all the characters are in good need of a Gibbs-head-slap – and my favorite keeps changing throughout the years. Right now, and for a few years, it is Persuasion, followed closely by Emma.
I think Anne Elliot is the best of all Austen’s heroines. More depth to her character than Lizzy Bennet, more spirit than Fanny Price, more clarity of vision than Emma Woodhouse, more common sense than Cathy Morland, and more understanding and wisdom than the Dashwood sisters. I love, as I approach my thirtieth year, that she is an older heroine, and one who blossomed later in life instead of early. I love how she shows that gentleness does not equal weakness, just as Louisa Musgrove proves that spiritedness does not equal strength of character.
Captain Wentworth is, I think, a bit of a jerk. He’s held a grudge against Anne for years, is deliberately rude to her, and flirts with the Musgrove girls without a care for how he might be affecting them. Yet, he is no Darcy, because we get to see him improve slowly throughout the book – not just changing after he is confronted with his faults, because he wants to be worthy of his love (I really hate the message that sends – that if you love somebody enough, you can change their character flaws. IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY OUTSIDE THE MOVIE AND BOOK WORLD). He sees his flaws for himself, recognizes where he has been unjust and acted wrongly, and then moves decisively to correct himself.
And I think that’s one reason why Anne and Captain Wentworth are such a good match – they loved each other as youth, were separated and grew up apart from each other, each developing into their own person, and then came back together as fully realized adults, each offering something special to the other, to help make the other complete.
Persuasion is great not just for the MCs, though. The supporting characters are all brilliantly drawn too – Mary Musgrove cracks me up with every re-reading; Admiral and Mrs Croft are delightful; Mr Elliot and Mrs Clay are just the right sort of villains – not too obvious.
Then there is the scenery, and the overall feel of the book. I almost always read Persuasion in the autumn or winter months. It is that sort of book; it feels wrong to read it when it is light and sunny out. With only a few words Austen gives us a clear picture of Kellynch, of Lyme (oh how I want to visit there someday!), and of Bath. Bath comes through even clearer in Persuasion, I think, than in Northanger Abbey.
It shows the mark of being written by an older, experienced author. The pace is calmer, the humor subtler, the tone quieter and deeper than the others. It is, I think, Jane Austen’s masterpiece, and I think it a true pity that it is so often overshadowed by the brighter but shallower Pride and Prejudice.
Next up on my fall/winter reading list: Shakespeare and Elizabeth Gaskell! What are you planning on reading this month?
Thank you all, again, for your kind words on my last post. You brought a lump to my throat more than once.
We’re still at my parents’ until Tuesday morning; Grandma’s memorial service is Monday. We’re looking forward to having much of the clan gathered together for it. Even though funerals are sad, we always manage to have something of a good time just because we’re together. Some of the aunts and uncles have only met my littles once or twice, so I’m happy (and slightly nervous) to introduce my small people to the larger family.
We also had Joy’s fourth birthday party today; I can’t wait to put pictures up on here from it. It was a woodland butterfly fairy tea party (originally, it was going to be a bird and flower and butterfly theme, but it evolved. These things happen), and even the three men involved (my husband, father, and brother-in-law) wore butterfly wings. O yes, they did. They all love Joy very much. They are also all very secure in their masculinity.
And my sister and I made sure to get them blue wings. Pink might have been carrying things a little too far.
And for a first, Joy only got one book for her birthday (and that from Carl and me). Usually books make up the bulk of her gifts. I’m sure she will get more once she receives her package from Carl’s aunt, a librarian in Maine. She always sends lots of book for birthdays and holidays. We are always very happy to see presents from G-Auntie.
This is the book we got for Joy:
No, wait. Wrong one. This one:
thanks to a recommendation from Rockin Librarian (thank you!). I’m excited to see what stories Joy concocts from the illustrations.
Meanwhile, my mom, sister and I are all sick (watching the two of them trying to tack up sheets and white lights while simultaneously hacking and blowing their noses would have been funny if I weren’t trying to slice vegetables without sneezing into them), and I am starting to go a little bit crazy from not writing at all in the last week plus – not since coming up here last Thursday. Family is more important, hands down, no questions asked and no regrets … but writing is such a part of me that I’m starting to feel starved for it.
And my characters are starting to haunt my dreams. Plus last night I dreamed that I had to scale a rickety ladder and swing from a rope to get into a library’s second story, not to mention crawling along the outside of the roof and breaking through a window (and was I ever pissed when I got inside and saw an escalator that led to main lobby, and I realized the librarian at the desk had sent me up the death trap way for, apparently, a lark, and then the escalators shut down because the library closed and I had to come down the same way and I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO CHECK OUT MY BOOKS), which I think is indication that my subconscious is telling me to not neglect books so much.
Or, you know, it could have been the rum in the tea last night. Whatever.
(Almost worse than the horrific ladder (I have a good head for heights, but I have always always hated ladders, and swinging from a frail rope to try to reach a roof window is not my idea of fun) was that I had found a brand-new, just-discovered Lloyd Alexander book in the children section (downstairs) and when I didn’t get to check my books out, I had to leave it behind. LLOYD ALEXANDER, newly-discovered book!)
I am working on the MG rewrite, but of today, Maia of the 1920s fantasy-adventure has been chatting to me, reminding me, impatiently, that I left her in Grave Danger and she needs a chance to Prove Her Worth. She is most definitely not a helpless heroine, and she doesn’t like being left a victim without a chance to take on the villain herself. So I think I need to get back to her soon. She gets very crabby when left alone for too long.
And now if you’ll excuse me, I have some rum-and-tea and a box of tissues calling my name.
And some pictures of three men in butterfly wings to upload onto my computer.
She went out accompanied by a blaze of northern lights, some of the most brilliant seen around here in ages. Heaven welcoming a gallant soul home with fanfare.
Even after her breathing had slowed drastically, her heart remained strong until the end. We always knew her heart was bigger and stronger than most.
Her humor was one of the last things to go when the Alzheimer’s took over. Even when she was in the nursing home and couldn’t even recognize Grandpa, she would try to tease the nurses and aids. They all loved her.
They were married for sixty years. Two days before she finally died, I sat and watched him hold her hand as he told us the only reason he underwent chemo and fought so hard for life through the blood clots last year was so that he could take care of her, make sure her ending was peaceful and dignified, so that he could take care of her to the end. None of his kids could speak at that point, so I managed to choke out that he had done a wonderful job of it. They were an example to us all.
Of eight kids, six managed to make it home to say goodbye, only the one in Australia and the one in Arizona not able to get back. Fully half of the grandkids were able to come. No one fought, no one argued, no one tried to make things difficult for anyone else. Everyone acted as selflessly as human beings can act. Another testimony to the love and respect everyone had for her.
The hospital nurses teared up when their weekend shift ended, knowing they wouldn’t see her again alive.
There was as much laughter as tears around her bedside, as stories were shared and memories were dredged up and old jokes revived. Her fifteen-year-old grandson played his guitar, everyone sang, and her last days were filled with the music and laughter she loved so well.
She has been gone for a long time. Twelve years ago was when she was finally diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, at that point too far advanced to do anything but watch and pray as it slowly disintegrated the woman we all knew. The pneumonia that took her tonight was a release from that living death (twelve years is phenomenally long for Alzheimer’s sufferers – most don’t live more than five years), and our tears were as much joy for her as sorrow.
She is whole again now. She is free. She is rejoicing and laughing with her Lord.
It hurts, still, but this is a clean hurt, one that will heal. The pain of the Alzheimer’s never went away; it would lie dormant for a time, but it was always there lurking in the background. This – already there is a peace growing from the sorrow.
We will miss her. We have missed her for years. But her legacy – the love, the laughter, the strength and faith and joy – she passed that on, not only to her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, but to all who knew her. I am proud to call myself her granddaughter, and you can be sure my girls will grow up knowing about what an amazing woman their great-grandmother was.
Rest in Peace? Maybe. Personally, I suspect she is singing and dancing right now.
And laughing.
Lois Elnina Bates, May 20, 1929 (I think, but I can’t get a solid year out of anyone right now) – October 24, 2011
I know I’ve been MIA here on the blog for a while. I had great plans to write a bunch of posts this past weekend and schedule them to be published for the next couple of weeks.
Until I got the phone call Thursday that my grandmother was in the hospital with pneumonia. My sister and I spent most of that morning on the phone, with the result that she and I got up to my parents’ house Thursday night, while Carl took the littles to his mom’s for the weekend.
I’ve spent the weekend cooking and cleaning so that the aunts and uncles at the hospital have home-cooked food and a place to sleep if they need a break. In between, I’ve been at the hospital myself, or with Grandpa at the nursing home, or making sure my father sleeps and eats (Mom and my sister had to go to a wedding in Vermont this weekend, already planned). And occasionally (FOUR times in two days) being mistaken for my father’s wife. The ones that just mistook me for Mom weren’t so bad; I already knew we looked alike. The one that didn’t even know Mom, and just asked Dad if I was his wife? SO NOT COOL.
Ahem. Irrelevant.
Anyway, Grandma is still in the hospital, but at this point we are just waiting for the end. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s twelve years ago; her body is fading as her mind did, only in a matter of days instead of years. I’m still at my parents’ house, with the littles here with me now, and Mom and Lis back from VT, just still doing what we can for the rest of the family, and praying for Grandma.
Someday soon I’ll have a post on just what a tremendous legacy she is leaving behind. But I think I’ll need more sleep before that happens. Someday soon also I hope to go back to more writing-related posts.
For now, though, blogging is rather obviously low on my priority list. I love all of my friends and readers, but family is coming first right now. Of course!
I’ll be back soon. I’ve not abandoned the blog, or all of you.
Right now though, I’m exactly where I need to be.
This has been an up-and-down week for me.
I wrote a children’s picture book. WHEEE!
I got the typical “oh that’s nice” response or, worse, no response at all from family and friends when I tried to share my excitement. WAHHH.
One friend immediately asked about illustrations, and we started collaborating that night. WHEEE!
Trying to figure out the best way to self-publish that offered me electronic options AND the freedom to offer print books to indie bookstores and local galleries on my own AND didn’t cost the sky completely and totally freaked me out. WAHHH.
I had a beautifully positive response from the few friends who did get excited for me, and my first critique partner. WHEEE!
My husband and I had one of those conversations where no one is mad at the other, but everyone ends up feeling lousy afterward (nothing to do with writing). WAHHH.
And then I got sick.
And it’s been raining for what feels like 40 days and 40 nights.
So, I’m finding an ark.
Today I’m going to wear nice clothes, bake cookies, play loud and fun music, laugh with my girls, work on sewing their skirts I cut out last week, and throw encouragement at everyone I can find, even if it is just online. I will hide myself from discouragement in joy. And hopefully when I emerge, the waters will have receded.
Just as soon as the two-year-old stops her wailing for no reason in the background.
What is your “ark” – where do you go, what do you do to rest and recover from discouragement or disappointment, or just plain blah-ness? Are you living in an area that’s been getting drowned, like me, or are you one of the ones suffering from drought? If you are, I so wish I could send you some of our wet!