Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself.
—Katherine Mansfield,
in Letters and Journals
& The Katherine Mansfield Notebooks
Author Archives: Theryn
Not liking something I’m trying really hard to appreciate
[T]here are cases where I like an artist a lot but hate their work. And that’s much harder for me [than when I dislike the artist but like their work], for some reason. The most common case is when it’s a friend, because then not only do I end up not liking something I’m trying really hard to appreciate, but I have to see them afterward and talk about it.
But there are people who I don’t know who I feel that way about. … I think it’s odd that if I like someone’s work, them being a jerk on a talk show has no effect. But if I hate a band and they turn out to be cool people, I’m likely to try really hard to like the music. Even after I already know I don’t!
Read Both
I think there is a trend for kids to read longer books younger, at least in the sort of community I teach in. But I don’t get the sense that this causes them to abandon picture books earlier. Rather, they read both. In my classroom today I’ve loads of picture books and the kids love for me to read them and to read them again and again on their own. Twenty years ago I focused pretty much exclusively on chapter books. So while kids seem to be reading chapter books younger they are also enjoying picture books when they are older.
[I]t was BECAUSE of picture books that [my son] was reading Stuart Little at 4, not despite them … And even now that he’s 7 and reading from the 9-12 wall at the store, we don’t eschew the picture books. When I left for work this morning, in fact, he was switching between a YA title, Silverwing, to a picture book by Jamie Lee Curtis (no shit).
One of my nieces reads much like I did as a kid, so I’ve been thinking quite a bit about kids’ books and reading recently.
I started reading when I was 4, before I started school. I don’t remember learning to read. It was like an on-off switch, I guess, much the way math always was for me. Once I figured it out, I just could. But that doesn’t mean I immediately ran out and started reading adult fiction. I was 7 or 8 when I started dabbling in grown-up stories, but it wasn’t until I was 10 that I started regularly picking up my parents’ novels and reading them before they had finished.
Although I had the ability to read pretty much anything, what I wanted to read were things I could relate to: stories with kid (or teen) protagonists, stories about school, friends & (fr)enemies, and dealing with parents and little brothers. Just because those books were too easy for me reading-level-wise didn’t mean I wanted to skip over the stories. Even after I started reading grown-up fiction, I still continued to read YA right alongside. And I’d still go back and re-read my favorite picture and chapter books on occasion.
What the people who are pushing their kids to read up seem to be clueless about is that a story can be profound even if the reading level is basic (or non-existent). David Wiesner’s Flotsam has no words, but it still tells an engaging and imaginative story, one that actually requires the reader to think more to understand it than if it had words:
I think the ability to understand/interpret story is a more difficult skill than simply being able to read. People take more or less time to learn how to read, but most eventually do. On the other hand, some people never figure out how to interpret a story on their own (as you can tell by reading reviews at places like Amazon & Goodreads).*
When one is an early reader, it’s easy to get caught up in just devouring words. For me, it wasn’t enough just to read, I had to read fast. I read so fast that I often missed plot points on my first read of a book (something I’d notice when re-reading, which fortunately I often did). A wordless picture book like Flotsam forces the power-reader to slow down to figure out the story, developing creative and analytical thinking skills. And that’s a good thing!
*Afterthought: I think this is also the reason why many wannabe writers think writing a children’s book will be easy. They are just looking at the words (surface elements) and not thinking more deeply about the story. In reality, writing a complex, nuanced story with few words and a simple vocabulary takes a great deal of skill.
Focus 100 percent on the reader
If you want to separate your story, find a way to tell it that focuses 100 percent on the reader and cuts out all the writing that is just there for your own ego. What do people want to read? I think they want to read one great story after another, with all the usual navel-gazing exposition cut out. And this is exactly what I try and get my clients to write.
Just another sort of work
[Writing a book is] very difficult. But so is losing 30 pounds or learning French or growing your own vegetables or training for a marathon … While it’s tempting to keep the idea of writing wrapped up in a glittery gauze of muse-directed creativity, it’s just another sort of work, one that requires dedication, commitment, time and the necessary tools.
Okanagan Half Marathon
10.10.10
So I ran another half-marathon. It was a personal worst, but I expected that going in, so it wasn’t a disappointment or anything. At some point in my training, I sprained my ankle. It’s an inside sprain, which apparently is rare (thanks, Dr. Google). I think I probably incurred it while dodging around people on the sidewalk/seawall who act like I’m invisible and won’t move to the side. Seriously, Vancouverites, what is wrong with you? It’s like a game of chicken out there.
Personally, I treat the sidewalk like a road: keep right except to pass. This doesn’t seem to be normal behavior. There are the meanderers, who do a sort of erratic s-curve thing down the middle, seemingly oblivious to the fact they’re in a public space. There are those who insist on walking three or more abreast, creating a fence across the sidewalk. There are the chatters, who stop and talk in the middle of the sidewalk, sometimes with strollers or bikes placed strategically so there is no way to get around them. But the worst offenders, in my opinion, are the ones that walk to the left, so that they’re coming straight at you, like a car going the wrong way. And then they stare you down and refuse to move. I don’t know how many times I’ve moved as far right as possible without falling off the sidewalk and continued forward, just to see what will happen. And inevitably it’s either I end up having to move off the sidewalk (if this is a possibility) or the other person begrudgingly moves an iota just before walking into me, but not so far that they fail to graze my arm as they go by. I’d love to know what’s up with that, so if this describes you, please enlighten.
Anyway! As you probably know, the cure for a sprained ankle is rest, but since I had this race coming up (it was a Challenge!), I just kept plugging away, albeit more slowly than I would have otherwise. The major consequence of it is that the longer I run, the stiffer it gets. And then my leg gets tired because I’m compensating (trying to not to limp-run and cause secondary injury). So the first half of the race went pretty well, but in the second half I slowed down quite a bit. But, in a curious turn of events, it turned out that both my challengers bailed 😉 (they did the 10k), so despite my really slow time, I won the challenge! My prize? Pancakes & bacon at IHOP.
Now for that much-needed rest. Will be walking in lieu of running until the ankle is healed.
Futures of the book
Dan Visel, a founder of the appropriately named Institute for the Future of the Book, points out that, first of all, a “book” can mean many things: A cookbook, a comic book, a history book and an electronic book are all animals of different stripes.
“It would be a mistake to think that these various forms have a single, unified future,” Visel says. “Rather, I think it’s more appropriate to say that there are futures of the book.” He sees some books, such as romances and thrillers, migrating easily to an electronic form.
Other types of books are not only meant to be read, but meant to be seen: Like when a New York subway rider whips out a copy of Going Rogue by Sarah Palin. “That sort of book largely has value as social display,” Visel says. “It’s not so much an instrument of revelation, because all the revelations in that book, for example, were posted online as soon as anyone could get their hands on it.”
Textbooks, phone books and other compendiums of information could perhaps serve readers better in electronic versions. In fact, Visel says, “I think the electronic book as it’s currently understood — basically a simple electronic text file — will take over a fair amount of the market that’s currently served by printed books.”
—Dan Visel,
interviewed at NPR
Serendipity
It does remove the element of serendipity. By which I mean you walk into a bookstore with the idea of getting this book and you see three or four other books that you really feel you must have but you wouldn’t have known about them unless you went into the store. So how to create in an e-version that experience of serendipity, it’s really hard.
The pleasure you get from what you are creating
A calling is fueled by the pleasure you get from what you are creating. A craving is driven by getting attention and recognition for the good work you produce.
Callings stir your pride and gratitude even if circumstances are frustrating and disheartening. Cravings leave you feeling resentful and judgmental at the end of the day and easily offended when someone doesn’t appreciate what you do. A calling keeps you moving in a specific direction. Cravings can leave you feeling lost and uncertain about your path.
Equal parts meaning and music
Language in fiction is made up of equal parts meaning and music. The sentences should have rhythm and cadence, they should engage and delight the inner ear. Ideally, a sentence read aloud, in a foreign language, should still sound like something, even if the listener has no idea what it is he or she is being told.
Let’s try to forget that the words “Call me Ishmael” mean anything, and think about how they sound.
Listen to the vowel sounds: ah, ee, soft i, aa. Four of them, each different, and each a soft, soothing note. Listen too to the way the line is bracketed by consonants. We open with the hard c, hit the l at the end of “call,” and then, in a lovely act of symmetry, hit the l at the end of “Ishmael.” “Call me Arthur” or “Call me Bob” are adequate but not, for musical reasons, as satisfying.
The Remainder Table 