Expected Much, Achieved Little
I printed up the manuscript for a book I’ve been working on since I was thirteen. Most of the plotline was developed in my teen years, most of the “working on since” has been rearranging the story to make the plot a little more linear. I meant to edit, do some moderate revisions, and send it off to a publisher.
The writing itself is good. I read enough literature to give myself that credit. But the story is so young… all the things I hate about the fad fiction that is out right now. I read Dickens and Forester and write something short of Libba Bray. The sad part is, I think its marketable, I think I could make money from it – but I don’t want my name on it, I don’t want my big sister to read it. They are the immature thoughts of a thirteen or fourteen year old, and still I can’t get the characters out of my head. They’ve been with me for so long. They were my friends when times were tough, my confidants when I was sad, and the people I rejoiced with when I was happy. Reading the story is like reading a diary in code because only I know what event or what comment inspired what sentence and which character.
I think teen girls would find something familiar and comforting in this fantastical tale. I think I would be frustrated that I never meant to be that kind of writer, ever wondering why I hadn’t been able to write like Audrey Niffenegger or Ayn Rand. I’m nearly 26 years old and I had very high expectations for myself and my writing. I may be checking things off my bucket list religiously, but I have actually achieved little.
“Remember how you had to blow on the old nintendo games to get them to work?”
“Remember how you had to blow on the old nintendo games to get them to work?”
That’s what everyone keeps saying. I keep hearing references to blowing on the cartridges by comedians and friends… all we kids of the 80’s and early 90’s. Do you know what I say?
No, No, I don’t.
I remember the Intellivision. Remember that people? Remember Frogger? Remember sliding the controller out of the side of the console (and that was an upgraded feature!). Remember Frogger and Donkey Kong and all those arcade games that were suddenly available right on your television… with the Intelligent Television – the Intelivision.
That’s what I grew up on. No Nintendo. No Sega. No Play Station. We had an Intellivision!
The Lovely Bones
I read this book a few years ago, actually, but with it being so wildly popular again I realized I never wrote a review.
The Lovely Bones is a bit tragic, terrible in its opening rape and murder, hazy with a metaphysical view of heaven, and sad as the family surviving the deceased fourteen year old attempt to function with one less person in the household. Its beautifully written despite its harsh plot points and terrifying point of view, but reading Alice Sebold’s memoir Lucky will help you understand her approach to the story. I highly recommend for 14-18 year old girls to read as a warning to pay attention to what’s going on around you and that the wise choices in life are not always polite nor do they quench certain curiosities.
Buy The Lovely Bones
The Mean Reds
A blast from the past – this is an excerpt from a zine I used to write called The Toilet Bowl Diaries (issue #7):
Blower’s Daughter is my favorite song this season… along with Deftones’ Change… (both of which are featured on my Too Cold Outside 2005 mix) they suit the mean reds of winter, which I get quite a lot. Anyone who has melancholy tendencies, is a writer, artist, raw and genuine, or blatantly a theatrical fake suffers from the mean reds at times. Which is why Holly Golightly in Breakfast At Tiffany’s is such a well-loved character. Capote wrote himself a pure classic to stand the sands of time along with Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath and Harrison’s Legends of the Fall. It speaks to everyone, because in everyone there is a Holly Golightly and a Paul Varjak, the dichotomy of being human.
What do I do when I have the mean reds? I go to Barnes and Noble with my journal and order Starbucks Caramel Chai Tea Latte with extra caramel syrup and sauce. I find myself a corner under the painted eyes of Kafka, Steinbeck and all the other greats and brood about how I’m not one of them yet; and after a few hours of scribbling away in the journal of the month, with my extra fine precise black ink pens that bleed just perfectly (not so much its hard to read, but enough to feel like you are writing in ink as it was meant to be written in), I’ll smile and feel better. My most creative thoughts and the beginnings of my most meaningful ambitions have come from a day of the mean reds.
And there is nothing better than a bottle of jack while casually strolling the house naked/in a robe still soaking wet after a bubble bath in candlelight. They are some of the most poetic moments of my life.
Stalker Music
For awhile now, I have thought that a lot of “love” songs are creepy and stalker like. If I were to make a mixed tape, it would go like this:
Song Title – band – when in the relationship the song occurs
Shiver – Coldplay… noticing, meeting
I’m Gonna Make You Love Me – The Supremes… the attempt at seduction
I Need You – LeAnn Rimes… the abrasive neediness, basically the act of stalking when there is no need to continue the behavior of a stalker because the person is indeed paying attention to you
Push – Matchbox Twenty… the actual (and somewhat abusive) relationship when the stalker continues to objectify the stalkee
Every Breath You Take – The Police… after the stalked party has left, and the stalker wont let go
Shiver – Coldplay… because the act of stalking is circular and continuous in nature
Please, add your stalky love song as a comment, I’m sure I missed a few.
Gloriously Symmetrical
As beautiful as The Time Traveler’s Wife is, Audrey Niffenegger’s Her Fearful Symmetry is awful. Every moment, every line is filled with mystery, sadness, and the terrible selfishness of humanity. I loved it.
People have described this second novel as disappointing. I feel as though it was done on purpose. I cried on page one, knowing that the rest of the book could not be even remotely as beautiful or as happy; and by the end I had been disappointed by every character so often, I merely settled into a sigh of understanding. Of course it ends this way, of course. The novel was gloriously backwards, in comparison to Niffenegger’s first book, just as Valentina is a backward version of Julia.
If you read it, I think you’ll understand my meaning.
If you liked it, I also recommend:
The Lovely Bones
The Mercy of Thin Air
Swan
I Can Do Brilliant Things With a Chicken!
Just one of my very many chicken recipes…
oven 350
in a pan:
skinless, boneless chicken
fresh garlic cloves
LOTS of honey
2 spoonfuls of butter
dill weed (of course, you can’t do a thing without it!)
cayenne pepper (another guilty pleasure)
chives
bake for 30 minutes and enjoy!
Cooking With Andi
So it looks absolutely disgusting, but I promise, it tastes oh so good!
In a crock pot mix:
Some diced up red potatoes
1 can of spinach
1 can of corn
some slices of bacon
some chicken bullion cubes (I think I used 4-5, I just kept adding them until it smelled right)
a bit of season all
ground red pepper (however much you can handle)
some tarragon
lots of dill weed
lots of chives
garlic cloves
melt in some grated cheddar cheese
cook on high until the potatoes are soft enough
it comes out a funky green color, but it is delicious
Have some honey-buttered toast for dessert.
First Book of the Year
Its 2010, I’m sure everyone is mentioning it, and I’m sure many have a hangover and a ton of resolutions. I don’t, on either count. I only had a bit to drink last night, not a lot, and I’ll carry on through 2010 pretty much as I did in 2009. I have goals, but they are not set because its a new year, instead because that is how I function on a regular basis – lists and goals.
So carrying on in the good old Andi fashion, I read a book today.
I re-read an old favorite from my school days, A Separate Peace by John Knowles. I remember everyone complaining about it in class and thinking that it was brilliant and amazing and wonderful. I thought reading it again over a decade later might somehow alter my views, but my ideas on the book are unchanged. I found the students at Devon just as fascinating and hurtful as before, I found Finny just as radiant, and Gene just as sad. I love their coming of age experiences every time.
Except now, I have a sequel to look forward to – something I didn’t have when I read the book for the first time twelve years ago because I was unaware of its existence. Now, I have a copy of “Peace Breaks Out” on my nightstand and cannot wait to see what life-changing stories Devon has in store for me!
What was your first book for 2010?
Anakalian Whims 
Origins and Thoughts, and Original Thoughts
January 19, 2010 at 5:44 am (JARS, Reviews, The Whim) (book, creationists, darwin, family relationships, fiction, history, intelligent design, irving stone, religion, review, social commentary, the origin, theology, victorian era)
My thoughts on Irving Stone’s The Origin so far… (I’m on Book Ten)
Despite being an enjoyable novel, its astonishing how much humanity is lacking in the description – it has the feel of a 1950’s family sitcom, Leave It to Beaver meets the Darwin family in Victorian England.
I like Irving Stone’s version of things, however. It gives a detailed time line of publications and events. Its a good source to use as an introduction to the study of evolution: names, dates, and important essays, journals and other writings are handed to you chronologically on a silver platter so that you can jot them down and do additional research afterward.
The book is quite clever, actually, sidestepping every controversy and smiling noncommittally.
“They established a routine in which everyone fitted harmoniously,” (from book nine: the Whole Life) seems to be the theme of the book, rather than the development of the theory of evolution. It is full of lines like: “The Manuscript on Volcanic Islands moved along felicitously.” Even through his many illnesses and the death of his two daughters, Charles Darwin seems to have led a very charmed life.
I discussed all this with a member the physical JARS book club, and she pointed out something important that I failed to notice: this is exactly the way a man of the Victorian Age would want his biography written. The Victorian era was a time when the upper class mastered the art of smiling and pretending everything was fine, introducing what my friend described as “that very British attitude of ‘Get Over It and Move On.’ ”
http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=FFFFFF&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=anakawhims-20&o=1&p=8&l=as4&m=amazon&f=ifr&ref=ss_til&asins=0451168100
Permalink Leave a Comment