She woke up yesterday morning to the lonely sound of logs crackling on the ground beneath her. She woke up yesterday morning, wondering why she dreamt the things that she does. She woke up yesterday morning, colder and more distant from the vibrant beauty of a world aflame than she had ever been from society.
She woke, begging that they didn't feel the pain of which they wrote in such great detail.
Deep inside, unrecognized to even her own active, strategizing mind, the girl knew that her resolve glittered as infinite and unchangeable as a diamond. While others pitied her and counseled her, her misery and transcendence had proved to her over and over again that she wouldn't die, even if bitterness stole her appetite, nabbed away sweet sleep, or drained her of her energy. She rested on the strength within her to survive. No fire could be so intense as to damage her while melting every impure ore off of her, and she was content with the tears on her cheeks, knowing that she would breathe in time.
On the other hand…
What sort of torture was a friend's pain?
Others were less callous; others were less practical; others were less rational. Seeing them dying only woke up useless compassion, woke up softness that she knew she couldn't share, and she loathed that sort of pathetic, impractical empathy with all of her being.
…for she was trapped in a crystal cage.
As the world went up in flames, flames that licked her polished skin, as people dropped into the coals, as iron structures melted away in fire, she could only scream in hopes that someone might hear her message from the black wings of her words and help drag those of whom she cared for away from the burning inferno. One or two, at least, she thought, might make it into the starry, smokeless heaven if only…if only she willed them to stay strong with her own resolve.
But that was a lie.
She couldn't save anyone in her crystal cage.
She was trapped with her burnished Will sapped away by the cruel flames.
She functioned alone, and, this morning, she was pleading for them not to die and leave her truly by herself in her efforts to be renewed by the flames.
Write on!
Clove
4.14.2014
Comedy and Laughter
Laughter is a funny thing. A person who used to advocate mirth, a person who used to press it upon others to laugh can just as easily fall to darker emotions within a single moment's passing. One conversation, one decision, one unanticipated circumstance is all that is necessary to break down a waking sunflower into an ice-crusted, thorny rose.
Unfortunately, once one has degenerated into a depressed soul, one might find that it's harder to reverse the transition from glee to sorrow.
Therefore, if your reader picks up your book while in a bad mood, how on earth are you going to present a deep, gripping, distressing plot without totally disgusting your reader who is already feeling down in the dumps?
To quote a friend of mine…
"LAUGH! THERE'S SO MUCH TO LAUGH ABOUT."
Of course, the beauty of comedy in writing is that it comes in more serious shades, so a darkie might not feel the blinding contrast of his emotions grinding against the comical antics of some doofus character.
Introducing…seven aspects of comedy:
1.) Situation Comedy - This is humor that arises from those "awkward moments when…". An abbreviation for Situation Comedy is sitcom, if that helps you define this type of comedy any better.
2.) Slapstick Comedy - This is the clutch-your-stomach, Looney Tunes comedy that includes that time when the character steps on the upward-facing teeth of a hoe and gets slammed in the face weigh the stick side of said gardening tool. (This includes those "comical antics of some doofus character" that I referenced earlier.)
3.) Comedy of Personality Clashes - These are your racist/sexist jokes. Cross-dressing, scoffing at Asian nerdiness (ADMIT IT, I KNOW YOU DO IT…eh, it's okay; I do too), and having a totally dominating wife with a submissive husband. While most of these are still chuckle-worthy, some of them can be offensive with slightly meaner tones and concepts.
4.) Comedy of Human Nature - This is the casual mention of a judge who is a kleptomaniac, a pastor who visits a night club on a regular basis, or a child who rules his mom. When a character is something that he or she is not, you get Comedy of Human Nature.
5.) Satiric Comedy - This is the next level of Comedy of Human Nature. This is when you take the judge who is a kleptomaniac and call him the absolute purest of all judges; none could be more unstained than he. This is when you take our go-go pastor and call him wise and restrained and humble beyond all other creatures. This is when you take the child who rules his mom and call him the perfect, most darling angel. Satiric Comedy is sarcasm joined with bitterness, such as when Hans Solo calls Princess Leia, "Your Worshipfulness" while meaning the exact opposite.
6.) Comic Irony - This is like Satiric Comedy, only instead of you, the author, describing your character contrary to his living style, your character is describing himself. For example, a bandit is caught in a jewelry store with several expensive diamonds in tow. When the policemen tell him to put his hands in the air, he smirks and shakes his head, purring in a gentle tone, "Ahhh, no, sirs, you have it all wrong. I am no bandit; I am a meek orphanage manager, who simply needs these diamonds. Despite all of the hard work that I have put into our orphanage, we have run out of funds. Would you care to watch a hundred young, beautiful children die? Neither would I! Oh, how I love those children. Please, grant me, an upright man, to depart with these jewels so that the children may have something to eat tonight!" Depending on how this is done, the reader generally goes "ugh" or laughs.
7.) Comic Verbal Wit - Euphemisms, exaggerations, and puns. Most of Tim Hawkins/Brian Regan falls into this category. "Ouch, I strained a muscle!" "You have a muscle to strain?"
Use these carefully, and you'll be able to coax out the giggles of even the most grim figure. Of course, strip your writing entirely of all of these elements, and you'll get a normal-tempered reader gagging on seriousness-itis. Overuse these elements in a serious plot, and you'll have a strange novel with which the reader won't be able to keep pace.
Write on!
Clove
Haven't laughed in a few days? Youtube "Kid Snippets". Haven't laughed in a week or more? Go read Lamentations 3 and meditate on verses 22 and 23.
Unfortunately, once one has degenerated into a depressed soul, one might find that it's harder to reverse the transition from glee to sorrow.
Therefore, if your reader picks up your book while in a bad mood, how on earth are you going to present a deep, gripping, distressing plot without totally disgusting your reader who is already feeling down in the dumps?
To quote a friend of mine…
"LAUGH! THERE'S SO MUCH TO LAUGH ABOUT."
Of course, the beauty of comedy in writing is that it comes in more serious shades, so a darkie might not feel the blinding contrast of his emotions grinding against the comical antics of some doofus character.
Introducing…seven aspects of comedy:
1.) Situation Comedy - This is humor that arises from those "awkward moments when…". An abbreviation for Situation Comedy is sitcom, if that helps you define this type of comedy any better.
2.) Slapstick Comedy - This is the clutch-your-stomach, Looney Tunes comedy that includes that time when the character steps on the upward-facing teeth of a hoe and gets slammed in the face weigh the stick side of said gardening tool. (This includes those "comical antics of some doofus character" that I referenced earlier.)
3.) Comedy of Personality Clashes - These are your racist/sexist jokes. Cross-dressing, scoffing at Asian nerdiness (ADMIT IT, I KNOW YOU DO IT…eh, it's okay; I do too), and having a totally dominating wife with a submissive husband. While most of these are still chuckle-worthy, some of them can be offensive with slightly meaner tones and concepts.
4.) Comedy of Human Nature - This is the casual mention of a judge who is a kleptomaniac, a pastor who visits a night club on a regular basis, or a child who rules his mom. When a character is something that he or she is not, you get Comedy of Human Nature.
5.) Satiric Comedy - This is the next level of Comedy of Human Nature. This is when you take the judge who is a kleptomaniac and call him the absolute purest of all judges; none could be more unstained than he. This is when you take our go-go pastor and call him wise and restrained and humble beyond all other creatures. This is when you take the child who rules his mom and call him the perfect, most darling angel. Satiric Comedy is sarcasm joined with bitterness, such as when Hans Solo calls Princess Leia, "Your Worshipfulness" while meaning the exact opposite.
6.) Comic Irony - This is like Satiric Comedy, only instead of you, the author, describing your character contrary to his living style, your character is describing himself. For example, a bandit is caught in a jewelry store with several expensive diamonds in tow. When the policemen tell him to put his hands in the air, he smirks and shakes his head, purring in a gentle tone, "Ahhh, no, sirs, you have it all wrong. I am no bandit; I am a meek orphanage manager, who simply needs these diamonds. Despite all of the hard work that I have put into our orphanage, we have run out of funds. Would you care to watch a hundred young, beautiful children die? Neither would I! Oh, how I love those children. Please, grant me, an upright man, to depart with these jewels so that the children may have something to eat tonight!" Depending on how this is done, the reader generally goes "ugh" or laughs.
7.) Comic Verbal Wit - Euphemisms, exaggerations, and puns. Most of Tim Hawkins/Brian Regan falls into this category. "Ouch, I strained a muscle!" "You have a muscle to strain?"
Use these carefully, and you'll be able to coax out the giggles of even the most grim figure. Of course, strip your writing entirely of all of these elements, and you'll get a normal-tempered reader gagging on seriousness-itis. Overuse these elements in a serious plot, and you'll have a strange novel with which the reader won't be able to keep pace.
Write on!
Clove
Haven't laughed in a few days? Youtube "Kid Snippets". Haven't laughed in a week or more? Go read Lamentations 3 and meditate on verses 22 and 23.
4.11.2014
A Poem - He went to bed
It's raining.
It's pouring.
The old man is snoring...
The young man is boring
--into caves for a pearl.
Meanwhile, absorbed there,
expectant,
gold teeth bared,
he forgets his own girl.
No regrets.
His heart falls
--from the sky and shatters.
Without a cry,
now he knows he will die.
Quietly thus agreed,
He then drops to his knees.
Under
--a soul pledged to darkness
Over
--a spiked tomb of silence
It's raining.
It's pouring.
The young man is snoring...
His girl picks up the spade
and begins hacking away.
~ ~ ~
Life continues onward at a steady pace, and mankind is still involved with obtaining new adventures rather than maintaining old loves. This poem represents the continuation of unlearning generations, how I've made the same mistakes over and over, and how History repeats Her course without repenting of the destruction that She brings.
Ever want to just...restart?
I do.
Write on!
Clove
P.S. To bring this back to a sane level, I'm not entirely talking about life mistakes, though life mistakes have been the main inspiration for this poem. The other bits of inspiration have to do with me, simply rewriting a page of material about four or five times now. Buahaha, talk about repeating mistakes. I have just about had it with this chapter. o.o
"Bring me a bowl of coffee before I turn into a goat!" ~ J.S. Bach
4.09.2014
A Music Video Story - Test Project
Hey all,
As an author, one of the biggest thoughts that comes to my mind in terms of reading revolutions - especially without the blooming industry of electronic reading devices - is what it might be like to have specific soundtracks timed to play at the rate at which you read. Doesn't that sound like fun? To explain, you might have an eerie suspense moment in your writing (with tremolo strings, of course), and the exact moment at which you hit the jump scare in the book, the accompanying music picks up too. A few more examples might be of a romantic scene with Katy Perry music, a sorrowful scene with sweeping orchestral works, or an action scene without good, old dubstep.
Someone has to make this device, guys.
Anyway, that thought, which has been in my mind since just about forever, plus the fact that I found a really music video that is 100% feels made me think of doing a small project like what I explained above. I've been working on this for…er…about three months or so, and I'd like to test it out on you guys. If you wouldn't mind, please follow the 2 steps below and leave the results of this test in the comments section below. :)
Step 1.) Watch the below music video. (No worries; it's not inappropriate in any sense, just very, very dramatic.) I don't care if you understand it, because you won't - it's all in Korean - but I just want you to see what's going on in the music video, okidoke?
As an author, one of the biggest thoughts that comes to my mind in terms of reading revolutions - especially without the blooming industry of electronic reading devices - is what it might be like to have specific soundtracks timed to play at the rate at which you read. Doesn't that sound like fun? To explain, you might have an eerie suspense moment in your writing (with tremolo strings, of course), and the exact moment at which you hit the jump scare in the book, the accompanying music picks up too. A few more examples might be of a romantic scene with Katy Perry music, a sorrowful scene with sweeping orchestral works, or an action scene without good, old dubstep.
Someone has to make this device, guys.
Anyway, that thought, which has been in my mind since just about forever, plus the fact that I found a really music video that is 100% feels made me think of doing a small project like what I explained above. I've been working on this for…er…about three months or so, and I'd like to test it out on you guys. If you wouldn't mind, please follow the 2 steps below and leave the results of this test in the comments section below. :)
Step 1.) Watch the below music video. (No worries; it's not inappropriate in any sense, just very, very dramatic.) I don't care if you understand it, because you won't - it's all in Korean - but I just want you to see what's going on in the music video, okidoke?
Step 2.) Click on this. (Don't worry; it's only a link to the same music video, only with English subtitles and worse audio quality. x)) DON'T WATCH IT YET until you've finished reading the rest of the directions here:
Below, I've basically written the story version of the music video. What I'd like you to do is move the music video to a new window so you can watch it out of the corner of your eye while reading what I've written. Basically, my goal is to have paced out my music video story so well that you read at exactly the same rate at which the music video is played…at least, this is my hope. x) In order for you to keep up, you'll have to be reading just slightly faster than the average reader, and you'll never want to glance at the music video with your full attention because you'll spend time there instead of in this crazy, non-stop reading project.
Also, if you get lost (as in, if what is being portrayed on the music video doesn't match what you're reading), everything that is lined to the right is written by me; there are a few lines that are centered and in quotation marks, and those centered lines are lyrics from the song. You'll know where to be when you see the center lines of my story music video line up with the music video lyrics, make sense?
All right, that's it. As soon as you're ready, click on the music video to let it play, and then immediately begin reading. :)
~ ~ ~
The early evening was warm, the air muggy, and the sepia sky marked with scuttling gray clouds that heralded a heavy storm. Standing in the middle of an alleyway, a tall, well-built Asian caught the hand of a slender girl, dead serious in his expression. Generally, the intelligent, beautiful girl walked a bright, cheerful road, but, ever since she had learned that she had cancer, she had revealed darker streaks in her character. Though not depressed, her face was emotionless and pale, and she was clutching something in her small, smooth right fist with stiff, pallid knuckles.
After exchanging a few words with the male, she uncurled her fingers, revealing a silver ring, and passed the priceless piece of jewelry to him.
Nothing, not even hours of lecturing or months of preparation, could have helped GD swallow the dry, thorny truth that was standing before him now. The evening was supposed to have been a casual, enjoyable stalk of the city with Daesung and Taeyang, but - coincidence of coincidences - his personal Fates had truly bound him with wild trouble now.
Like his two friends, GD was paralyzed, uncertain of his choices and disbelieving of what he was seeing. Blind with rage, GD covered his open mouth with one hand and forced himself to look away as Top slid a glinting, mocking ring onto his finger. Common sense told him not to interrupt. If he was wrong and Minyoung was really, truly choosing Top over him, then there was nothing he could do for it.
If he wasn’t wrong...
Taeyang clapped a hand on GD’s shoulder, but the latter could hardly feel the expression of comfort in aching shock. He couldn’t feel anything but a tremor within him that refused to be suppressed by sheer willpower. GD didn’t care for Top’s rationale; he thirsted for a fight. Seconds later, Minyoung walked off, entirely oblivious to the fact that GD, her boyfriend, had witnessed the entire scene, and GD swaggered forward, catching Top’s attention.
“My heart is breaking like a wave.”
Top turned his back to GD.
“My mind is wavering like the wind.”
“Like the smoke, my love faded away.”
“Like a tattoo, it won’t come out.”
“I sigh deeply, and the ground shakes.”
Taeyang tried unsuccessfully to push the two apart, but they shoved him away.
“In my heart, dust is piling up.”
GD would have seen the sorrow in Top’s eyes if he had looked.
“SAY GOODBYE!”
Jaw tight and eyes full of murder, GD continued to cut off Top, and the two males grew more violent in their agendas: Top attempting to escape with GD seeking confrontation. Daesung and Taeyang watched nervously, though unhappily, to see the two best friends fight so strongly over Minyoung, but confusion layered on top of anxiety.
GD realized it too: Top had never made any advances on Minyoung before, and Minyoung had been the one who had given Top the ring, not the other way around. He had no patience to determine which betrayal was worse: from his best friend or from his love.
Seungri, who had driven Top to the alley, ducked out of his car and grabbed Top before he could slam GD. Now, Top was aggressive, the strange grief absent from his face. Sharp scorn and mocking twisted his naturally-vicious features, and GD, who was a year younger and some inches shorter, grew quiet but kept his eyes stabbed through Top’s.
“I’m worried. I can’t speak to you or even come close to you.”
Top was suddenly beside himself.
“I spend long nights by myself, erasing my thoughts a thousand times.”
He was a wolf, teeth bared, eyes flashing.
Though Top knew inside his soul that GD could never deduce what was going on, he still felt pride swell at such antagonism.
GD had crossed a line.
Yet it was GD who threw the first punch. He gave a monster’s grin as his solid fist connected with Top’s cheek, took a slug in return, but had already brought his other arm around to Top’s left eye. With a grunt, Top dropped to the ground, and GD towered over him, screaming curses at his best friend. Dutiful hands grabbed him and yanked him back.
Somehow, Seungri alone had Top; Daesung and Taeyang had jerked GD off and had slammed him against the opposite wall in the alley. Their voices echoed off the corridors.
Not even halfway satisfied with short fight, Top and GD stalked off away from each other, wiping blood from their wounds.
At home, GD sunk into a seat, dragging his hands through his shaggy black hair. He couldn’t believe Minyoung or Top. Had she been seduced? Had Top been trying to cover up his madness by escaping so quickly?
Nothing completed in GD’s mind, and he ran himself to a ghost trying to understand.
Too impatient to strip completely, GD ducked into a shower, flinching as a sheet of icy water struck his face. The torrents of freezing water tore at his ash-white skin like bullets, but GD only lifted his face to the numbing shower, delving into the painful electricity pounding through his nerves. There was a demon in his eyes, struggling to rule through his dark eyes into the gray, grim light...
...Minyoung loved his eyes.
The demon won. GD threw his fist into the mirror.
“Oh, my girl...
“I cry, cry.
“You're my all.
“Say goodbye...”
Rumor of the fight reached Minyoung overnight. When she saw Top sitting miserably alone in his car the next day, she went to apologize to him, though the sight of his cuts disquieted her.
She moved closer to him.
Seungri couldn’t believe his bad luck. Certainly, he had thought, GD would be fine at the mall, yet, they still managed to run into Top and Minyoung. Certain that GD was dying all over again in the back of the car, he prepared to hold his friends back if they sought a fight.
However, for a moment, no one moved.
A long, awkward silence ensued as GD waited to see if all was, as he hoped, mere coincidence, but Top whispered something to Minyoung, and they moved to each other lovingly.
Moving quicker so that his friends couldn’t detain him this time, GD emerged from the car and moved to Top and Minyoung, immersed in grief and utter, inebriating hatred. Shoulders low, he leapt onto their car hood, not noticing the smirk painted on Top’s lips or the worry in Minyoung’s eyes. All he saw was what he hated, and he continued to yell as Taeyang and Seungri pulled him back.
Top managed to keep from showing his distress when GD faced him, but he didn’t need to work so hard. GD could only see how much Top was enjoying his revealed deception, how much he took pleasure in his social superiority, how he knew he was controlling Minyoung and wasn’t afraid to flaunt her against GD. Refusing to fight in front of Minyoung, GD stormed off and promised himself vengeance.
Walking home alone, GD began to doubt in his own mind what he was or how Minyoung had ever chosen him. The jostling crowd didn’t even recognize him as he walked in hidden angst; why should she? Shoulders rammed into GD as he stumbled through the streets, feet leaden, heart slashed, love broken.
“I don’t regret loving you.”
GD lost all self-respect at home. He had to extinguish the fire in his veins, or he would be consumed himself. Throwing anything breakable, ripping books, sadistically drinking in the tinkling of broken glass, GD let himself vent. He prayed desperately for tears, but livid rage still kept him from that catharsis. The sitting room fell into complete annihilation at GD’s restless hands, and the chaos satisfied his stormy heart in a strange way as he threw a chair against a mirror. Then, as broken as his room, GD fell to his knees and a feral scream ripped from his throat.
Alone in her apartment, Minyoung battled her tears. She was literally dying; GD was dying for her; Top was dying for GD. When she ran her thin fingers through her hair, thick strands fell out: the result of her chemotherapy. She looked at the black locks blankly and philosophically.
It would be easier for GD this way, she knew.
By the time Seungri and Daesang had finally caught up to GD, his room was a wreck. Alarmed at the mayhem, they stopped at the doorway and beckoned him to follow them to the hospital, but GD refused, so the four members of their intimate group: Taeyang, Seungri, Daesung, and Top, visited Minyoung on her deathbed alone. Peaceful and well-lit, the hospital room was cloaked with death’s presence, though Minyoung seemed satisfied with Top’s idea.
“Those tears will all dry up, yeah.”
Smiling cheerfully, Minyoung seemed perfectly happy that GD hadn’t shown up.
“As day by day passes.”
Taeyang was immensely bothered, more so than the others, by GD’s reaction. Being GD’s hyung by only a few months, he had always felt close to him, and now he questioned within himself whether or not to contact GD...whether to follow his own desires or Minyoung and Top’s plan. For a moment, he put himself in GD’s shoes, but the mental transition was unnecessary. He knew GD too well to know whose suicide would follow if he didn’t have a last word with Minyoung, so he called GD and went down to the lobby to meet him when he arrived.
GD was already on the streets when Taeyang told him that Minyoung’s operation was going to occur in less than five minutes. Every fiber in his body screamed, “NO!” as he ripped off his jacket and hurtled off towards the hospital, his feet pounding the ground, his arms straining forward, cold tears drying on his eyes before they could drop.
WHY?
Why hadn’t she told him?
If she died...if she dies...GD couldn’t stand the thought of leaving their conflict unresolved. He shook his head, screaming in his throat at the possibility. He had to make it on time, to tell her, to see her or hear her, even if she was to say she had never truly loved him.
Minyoung, please.
PLEASE.
Not yet!
NOT YET.
DON’T TAKE HER.
Never speaking to her again, never hearing her laugh, never smiling at her jokes, never appreciating her beauty, never telling her he loved her, never, never, never--
TOO EARLY.
It was too early. GD needed more time, more time, more time. She was all he had; she was all he HAD. She couldn’t go...she...was all he had...
He loved her. He loved her more than anything and would be willing to instantly give himself up in her place. In his mind, he begged to die for her; he begged for her to be spared. Certainly, she would survive because...because of his love...
GD felt his lungs heaving for breath, but his body’s slacking only redoubled his will’s effort to make it to the hospital on time. Never had he moved so fast before, his muscles numb, his stomach dry, a feverish sweat glazing his temples.
But...the sight of Top immediately killed the panic rising in GD’s soul; he dropped his head, hoping to pass by quietly, but Top, midway down the hall, grabbed his wrist, startling GD. The younger male looked back, made certain it was Top with a quick glance, and looked forward again, trying to tug his arm away, but Top didn’t let go.
Hesitantly shifting his weight, Top pulled something from his jacket pocket and flipped it in his fingers before laying it in GD’s open palm.
“I’m sorry I lied.”
Top’s voice was a low murmur, the murmur of a friend. GD stared at the ring blankly as truth hit him and began to sink through his skin
“Minyoung...really loves you.”
Those words were all that were necessary to break GD down. He closed his fist, arms trembling, and brought his knuckles to his mouth. Slamming his back against the wall and groping desperately at his chest, GD stared at the ring, putting the entire story together in his head with the intensity of a killer. Suddenly, everything made sense, and he covered his face before the weeping took him over.
Minyoung...
Why do you love me as you do?
Too much pain, too many memories.
GD choked on a sob, rushing to the cruelly closed doors of the operation room behind which he could hear electronic beeps and the heartbeat of Minyoung in his own chest. His steadfast friends who had loved him through the entire trial watched him momentarily as he beat on the metal doors with heartache-weakened fists. Refusing to react to GD’s pathetic pounding, the doors refused to open, to allow him one last moment with Minyoung.
The very first day when she had given the ring to Top, she had wanted Top to give GD the ring when she was dead. In the mall parking lot, Top and Minyoung faked a relationship so that GD wouldn’t grow to attached to her...
...since she was dying.
GD staggered away from the door, body limp and unresponsive as a high groan escaped from his lips. Taeyang embraced him then, trying to keep him from drowning in his emotional turmoil, but they were all so far away. GD was in another universe of suffering.
He had wounded Top; he had loathed Minyoung.
Too late. Everything was too late.
No forgiveness.
The operation room doors opened, and surgeons wheeled out Minyoung’s motionless body on a stretcher.
She had tried to save him from aching; she had always loved her; she hadn’t wanted to hurt him.
Vision blurred with tears, GD knelt over her.
“Oh, my girl...
“I cry, cry.
“You’re my all, say goodbye, bye.
“Oh, my love...
“Don’t lie, lie.
“You’re my heart...
“Say goodbye.”
~ ~ ~
Okaaay~! So, how did everyone do? Did I write too much? Did I write too little? ARE YOU IN TEARS?! Did you feel like reading and listening at the same time detracted from the fun of reading or enhanced the thrill of it? Was the music video enhanced by my writing?
Please, please, please leave your comments below, telling me how this worked out for you~!
Write on!
Clove
4.07.2014
It has come to this: Hunger Games v.s. Divergent
This post is in honor of a speshul person who is near and dear to my heart and yet oh-so far away. We must meet up this summer. *Jedi mind-trick hand-wave* Thou must not be too busy. Thou must make time to have at least one weekend with the "Atlanta girl". Thou must come and eat ice cream and watch lots of movies and tell me all of your other crazy driving stories. Incentive enough?
~ ~ ~
Disclaimer: This post contains major spoilers for both the Hunger Games series and the Divergent series. Of course, if you're midway through the books, better I break the bad news to you rather than the authors who use flowery phrases and comically dramatic sentences to bring you to tears.
~ ~ ~
Hey all,Today, I talked for about three hours with a long distance friend. Ahhh, luvly times, I tell you. As it is, about an hour of our conversation was…er…synonymous to:
"DIVERGENT! YOU MUST READ THE SERIES!"
"NOOO. I REFUSE I REFUSE I REFUSE."
"REAAAD."
"MAKE ME."
"YOU ONLY READ ONE THIRD OF THE FIRST BOOK. HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT YOU DON'T LIKE THE SERIES?!"
"I KNOW BECAUSE I'M AN AUTHOR."
"YOU MUST GET ATTACHED TO THE CHARACTERS!"
"YEAH, SO THEY CAN DIE?!"
"THAT'S EXACTLY LIKE THE HUNGER GAMES, AND YET YOU'RE OKAY WITH THE HUNGER GAMES?!"
"YES!"
"THEN READ."
"NOOO."
Imagine all of that through a happy dosage of bad internet and such serious lag that our voices sounded like they were filtered through an autotune machine; you can believe that I had a very eventful afternoon. :)
However, I was stumped on one question that my speshul friend asked me, which was, "You've only read one third of the first book. How can you say that you don't like the series?"
Much to her credit, my friend had several arguments on her side, the first of which is the fact that, ladies and gentlemen, I truly only have read the first third of the first book of the Divergent series, even though I have read the Wikipedia articles on all three books. My limited knowledge certainly dampers my ability to accurately judge the Divergent series.
Do I repent?
Of course not, sillies.
This is the twenty-first century.
I shall judge as I will.
*sarcasssm*
A second point against me is the true fact that the Divergent series is not all too much different in genre from the Hunger Games. There is rebellion, mental torture, a female protagonist, a muscular and weapon-wielding significant other, war, and the books' climaxes are virtually identical. If I like the Hunger Games, oughtn't I enjoy the Divergent series?
Technically yes.
But I don't.
So what's the difference?
In three words:
INTENSENESS VERSUS DYSTOPIA
In the Hunger Games, I was quickly able to pick up a running theme: the concept that mindless killing and killing as a threat is evil. While the theme is unarguably intense, it was never abandoned or compromised throughout the entire trilogy, and Suzanne Collins (despite her lack of accurate grammatical skills) did an excellent job of portraying the cruelties of bloody death from war in a creative and thought-provoking series.
On the other hand, I read through the first hundred-odd pages of the Divergent and was still lost as to the theme. The book seemed to be following a girl, who was placed in depression-inducing circumstances, and those depression-inducing circumstances alone seemed - to Veronica Roth - to be enough to build the plot.
Furthermore, did Tris, the protagonist, have a character imbalance? Not as far as I could see. Was Tris really alive and relatable? Nope. Maybe I pitied her, but I couldn't see her situations and challenges and relate because she had so few inner struggles. The book really seemed to move as a basic skeleton stitched together with shallow (though well-described) characters, and, personally, I think Veronica Roth could have benefitted greatly if she had stopped to consider adding a visible character imbalance earlier on in the story.
All that to say, what makes the difference between the Hunger Games and the Divergent series is that one is intense and the other is dystopian. One includes character imbalance. (The fact that Katniss went from being a chaotic, selfish brat to a semi-likable adult really lessens the horror of the trilogy's ending.) One didn't. (Tris had no such redeeming qualities.) One contains a theme. (At least I walked away with a moral in the Hunger Games.) One didn't. (Whaaa--? Everything's a lie…?! Trust nobody…?!)
Two simple elements can make or break a story for this picky author named Clove, y'all: themes and character developments. Are you using them? Refuse to get lazy as Veronica Roth did; take the time to put some extra life into your book, and you'll find much benefit in doing so.
Write on!
Clove
4.06.2014
"Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold...?"
"Pease porridge in a pot, nine days old."
How do you like your pease porridge? Honestly, peas are one of the select few food items that I despise eating, and, honestly, does anything in pease porridge look even half-way digestible?
Not to sound overly geeky, but I'm hoping that those of you who call yourselves avid authors also call yourselves avid readers, and I hope that those of you who call yourselves avid readers also know whether you like your books hot, cold, or in a pot, nine days old. In other words, I'm not the only one who has book quality preferences...right?!
HOW I LIKE MY BOOKS:
1.) I like to really own books. Libraries are okay for a wide exposure to multiple books, but, in order for me to feel as if I've really connected with a book, I like to have a book that is mine and mine alone, as in, all of my other siblings must ask me if they'd like to read the book before reading it. Generally, this means that I have to buy my own books from a bookstore or order them online with my own money, but, hey...this is how I like my books.
2.) I like my books fresh. No second-handers for me, please. Again, to feel as if I've really connected with a book, all of the wrinkles and stains and creases in the book must be made by me.
3.) If I can't get a fresh book, I prefer a second-hander that has tons and tons of scribbles and notes in it. Twice this school year for my history class, I've read through a second-hander book that has such the most interesting margin notes, and, I don't know who made those notes, but I'd like to think that they were made by a very intelligent professor. ^_^ What's even more mysterious and intriguing is that moment when I realize that a past reader has left a question in the margin and another different person has answered it. (I've only had that happen to me once in Beowulf, but it was awesome.)
4.) If the book is mine and if the book is fresh, I must write in it. Some people say I defile books this way and ruin the whole point of buying a fresh book, but...is it really? After all, reading a good book is being able to vaguely empathize with fictional persons; reading a better book is seeing your life reflected in the life of another fiction person; reading the best of books is actually changing your life after/during reading. If you read a truly excellent book and want to keeping track of the copious changes you'd like to make in your life, you must write down your thoughts for later meditation.
5.) I must keep track of my spot by dog-earing (rather than book-marking), and my dog-ears MUST BE 45-45-90 TRIANGLES COMPRISED OF ONE SHEET OF PAPER.
So why am I this way?
Well, on the subject of book-marks, I don't like bookmarks for paperbacks because the bookmark falls out too easily. Plus, when I sit down to read, find my spot, and set the bookmark next to me, I end up dog-earing the page when I'm finished rather than using the bookmark anyway, just by habit. Also, if you dog-ear a page while you're reading in, say, the Bahamas, then come back and re-read the book during a rainy day at home, chances are you'll remember that you dog-eared the aforementioned page during your stay in the Bahamas, and a great flood of beautiful memories of your time at the Bahamas will douse you before you read. No, I'm not a super-stout devotee to dog-ears (I'm practical), but, no, you cannot change me, and, no, you should not try. :)
On another note, the 45-45-90 triangle, single-sheet thing...
...that's all totally my OCD. Plus, come on, guys, which one is prettier? Duh, the first one.
6.) Also, one of the most important factors of any book ever...is its scent.
Generally, I have three acceptable scents for books. The first scent, which permeates the majority of the books that I've read, smells like paper and ink and wood, and the aroma reminds me of sunbeams coming through a dirty window into my luthier's workshop where varnish brushes, old green bottles, and beautifully-darkened violins are organized above a pile of fresh sawdust. The second smell is much like sweat, pepper, and man's perfume combined, but indescribable otherwise. x) (Honestly, the only books that I've ever read that smell like such are the Peachtree City Library's The Hunger Games series, but the aroma fit the book perfectly - everything was so intense and dangerous and gripping.) The last scent is the smell of nutmeg and cinnamon and coffee, which often comes from the books bought in a joint bookstore and coffeeshop.
Anything that does not fit one of these three scents is automatically a low-quality book for me, though, fortunately, I can't remember ever reading a book that didn't smell like one of the above scents... ^_^
So how do you guys like your books? Hot, cold, or nine days old in a pot? Have you ever smelled a really delightful book? Let me know in the comment box below!
Write on!
Clove
I got a haircut...and my hair, which used to come down to the bottom of my ribcage when it was wet...is now...alas...at my collarbones...it took me...like...thirty seconds to wash my hair this morning...and no tangles...so weird...very short...much help...ugh...in other words...I'm never cutting my hair this short again...teehee...I'm also never going to make a character...with short hair...ever...
How do you like your pease porridge? Honestly, peas are one of the select few food items that I despise eating, and, honestly, does anything in pease porridge look even half-way digestible?
 |
| Eughhh...pig slop or congealed vomit. |
Not to sound overly geeky, but I'm hoping that those of you who call yourselves avid authors also call yourselves avid readers, and I hope that those of you who call yourselves avid readers also know whether you like your books hot, cold, or in a pot, nine days old. In other words, I'm not the only one who has book quality preferences...right?!
HOW I LIKE MY BOOKS:
1.) I like to really own books. Libraries are okay for a wide exposure to multiple books, but, in order for me to feel as if I've really connected with a book, I like to have a book that is mine and mine alone, as in, all of my other siblings must ask me if they'd like to read the book before reading it. Generally, this means that I have to buy my own books from a bookstore or order them online with my own money, but, hey...this is how I like my books.
2.) I like my books fresh. No second-handers for me, please. Again, to feel as if I've really connected with a book, all of the wrinkles and stains and creases in the book must be made by me.
3.) If I can't get a fresh book, I prefer a second-hander that has tons and tons of scribbles and notes in it. Twice this school year for my history class, I've read through a second-hander book that has such the most interesting margin notes, and, I don't know who made those notes, but I'd like to think that they were made by a very intelligent professor. ^_^ What's even more mysterious and intriguing is that moment when I realize that a past reader has left a question in the margin and another different person has answered it. (I've only had that happen to me once in Beowulf, but it was awesome.)
4.) If the book is mine and if the book is fresh, I must write in it. Some people say I defile books this way and ruin the whole point of buying a fresh book, but...is it really? After all, reading a good book is being able to vaguely empathize with fictional persons; reading a better book is seeing your life reflected in the life of another fiction person; reading the best of books is actually changing your life after/during reading. If you read a truly excellent book and want to keeping track of the copious changes you'd like to make in your life, you must write down your thoughts for later meditation.
5.) I must keep track of my spot by dog-earing (rather than book-marking), and my dog-ears MUST BE 45-45-90 TRIANGLES COMPRISED OF ONE SHEET OF PAPER.
So why am I this way?
Well, on the subject of book-marks, I don't like bookmarks for paperbacks because the bookmark falls out too easily. Plus, when I sit down to read, find my spot, and set the bookmark next to me, I end up dog-earing the page when I'm finished rather than using the bookmark anyway, just by habit. Also, if you dog-ear a page while you're reading in, say, the Bahamas, then come back and re-read the book during a rainy day at home, chances are you'll remember that you dog-eared the aforementioned page during your stay in the Bahamas, and a great flood of beautiful memories of your time at the Bahamas will douse you before you read. No, I'm not a super-stout devotee to dog-ears (I'm practical), but, no, you cannot change me, and, no, you should not try. :)
On another note, the 45-45-90 triangle, single-sheet thing...
 |
| ...like this... |
 |
| ...versus the ugly triangular dog-ear, like this... |
 |
| ...or the even worse combination of several pages in a dog ear, like this... |
...that's all totally my OCD. Plus, come on, guys, which one is prettier? Duh, the first one.
6.) Also, one of the most important factors of any book ever...is its scent.
 |
| Yes, it exists. |
Generally, I have three acceptable scents for books. The first scent, which permeates the majority of the books that I've read, smells like paper and ink and wood, and the aroma reminds me of sunbeams coming through a dirty window into my luthier's workshop where varnish brushes, old green bottles, and beautifully-darkened violins are organized above a pile of fresh sawdust. The second smell is much like sweat, pepper, and man's perfume combined, but indescribable otherwise. x) (Honestly, the only books that I've ever read that smell like such are the Peachtree City Library's The Hunger Games series, but the aroma fit the book perfectly - everything was so intense and dangerous and gripping.) The last scent is the smell of nutmeg and cinnamon and coffee, which often comes from the books bought in a joint bookstore and coffeeshop.
Anything that does not fit one of these three scents is automatically a low-quality book for me, though, fortunately, I can't remember ever reading a book that didn't smell like one of the above scents... ^_^
So how do you guys like your books? Hot, cold, or nine days old in a pot? Have you ever smelled a really delightful book? Let me know in the comment box below!
Write on!
Clove
I got a haircut...and my hair, which used to come down to the bottom of my ribcage when it was wet...is now...alas...at my collarbones...it took me...like...thirty seconds to wash my hair this morning...and no tangles...so weird...very short...much help...ugh...in other words...I'm never cutting my hair this short again...teehee...I'm also never going to make a character...with short hair...ever...
4.03.2014
Sayonara, "there" and "it"
(Clove here. Before I begin, please pardon my lowly *pointed cough* character, Jace Dracon, who took a mind of his own for my last post and decided to have a spin at blogging for me. He apologizes to the offended by saying that April's Fools Day had already begun on the other side of the world when he was writing, and he was just trying out Earth's traditions. Yes, he wrote well enough to convey my writing challenge, I believe, but he did forget to mention that, despite my eternal exhaustion, I have finished the outline for my slow-publishing book. I won't be changing the plot anymore, which means all I have to do now is write, write, write! ^_^ No more hours of musing, no more different character development arcs, just good, old grinding and editing.
Fun stuff.
Anyway, please don't be concerned. Jace won't appear again. Currently, I have him tied up and unconscious in my garage, so you may continue on with the regular post without any unfortunate interruptions. ;))
Today, we are kicking the nominative case forms of "there" and "it" to the curb. (If you'll recall from Grade 11 or 12, the nominative case is used for subject nouns, predicate adjectives and predicate nominatives.) No time for last goodbyes. I mean to wrench those two words from your grasp and send them back to the Handlerville where they belong. (Yes, that was an intentional barb at the author of the Series of Unfortunate Events. Eat it, yo.)
For a little while, you, as an author, should attempt writing your next chapter by using "there" and "it" as few times as is possible. I've noticed, in my search for clarity and clutter-less writing, that this eliminates the dreaded "passive" voice (If you'll recall from Grade 4 grammar, "The ball is hit by Jack" is passive, versus "Jack hits the ball", which is active.) and chops down sentences to immaculate preciseness.
For example, you might write:
Not bad, if I say so myself. I chose from a wide range of words and had mildly varied sentence structures. However, the paragraph is stuffy. Too many words are bumping into each other and detracting from the value of a vibrant vocabulary.
So, to edit, I'll reword the sentences until "there" and "it" at the beginning of the sentence are nonexistent.
What do you guys think? To me, the second paragraph is much more free and less diluted. Vocabulary is given meaning, and, without the "there's" and "it's", the picture of my (and your) story can be better painted.
Write on!
Clove
Fun stuff.
Anyway, please don't be concerned. Jace won't appear again. Currently, I have him tied up and unconscious in my garage, so you may continue on with the regular post without any unfortunate interruptions. ;))
Today, we are kicking the nominative case forms of "there" and "it" to the curb. (If you'll recall from Grade 11 or 12, the nominative case is used for subject nouns, predicate adjectives and predicate nominatives.) No time for last goodbyes. I mean to wrench those two words from your grasp and send them back to the Handlerville where they belong. (Yes, that was an intentional barb at the author of the Series of Unfortunate Events. Eat it, yo.)
For a little while, you, as an author, should attempt writing your next chapter by using "there" and "it" as few times as is possible. I've noticed, in my search for clarity and clutter-less writing, that this eliminates the dreaded "passive" voice (If you'll recall from Grade 4 grammar, "The ball is hit by Jack" is passive, versus "Jack hits the ball", which is active.) and chops down sentences to immaculate preciseness.
For example, you might write:
There was, in a far off land, a queen named Eriana. For many years, using her wisdom and beauty, she kept the borders of her realm from intruders, though, on the night of her twentieth birthday, Fate declared differently. It had been a dull night, a restless one for the queen. There had been a strange aura in the still, summer night's air that had bothered her, and not even the breeziest covers of her royal bed could keep her from sweating.
Not bad, if I say so myself. I chose from a wide range of words and had mildly varied sentence structures. However, the paragraph is stuffy. Too many words are bumping into each other and detracting from the value of a vibrant vocabulary.
So, to edit, I'll reword the sentences until "there" and "it" at the beginning of the sentence are nonexistent.
A queen named Eriana once lived in a far off land. For many years, using her wisdom and beauty, she kept the borders of her realm from intruders, though, on the night of her twentieth birthday, Fate declared differently. That specific night had been a dull, restless one for the queen. A strange aura in the still, summer night's air had bothered her, and not even the breeziest covers of her royal bed could keep her from sweating.
What do you guys think? To me, the second paragraph is much more free and less diluted. Vocabulary is given meaning, and, without the "there's" and "it's", the picture of my (and your) story can be better painted.
Write on!
Clove
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)