Our seamstress attempted yesterday to make a prototype of one of the capes for the kids' musical that I'm directing. The musical starts in two weeks, and we need thirty to forty capes.
Problem: Apparently, my fabric of choice (tissue lame') is not a seamstress's best friend. It dulls and breaks machine needles, and frays 'til the cows come home.
Never fear! Your friendly neighborhood director will solve the problem. Our red capes and turquoise capes will be awesome, if I have to stick them together with chewing gum and paper clips.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
The New Kids on the Block
Our Sunday classes for kids change each summer as the kids move into the grade-level they will occupy in the fall. The biggest transition is for the rising first graders, who move from the pre-K/K rotation into the elementary rotation. The elementary level is still age-appropriate and exciting, but it's more academic. Part of the elementary rotation is my class in basic music theory and singing.
Our church is one of a small number of churches in the United States that sing only a cappella. That practice has preserved our congregational singing. Sadly, many churches with instrumental music no longer see much participation from their congregations. Whether the music is traditional (with a choir and piano), or contemporary (with a "praise band"), the emphasis at many instrumentally-backed worship services is on professional-quality performing rather than amateur communal singing. (I don't mean to imply that instrumental worship music is necessarily any less worthy or sincere than a cappella--it's simply not to my taste, because of the frequent lack of participation by the congregation. In many predominantly African-American churches, instruments have not hurt the singing of the congregation, and I find gospel-influenced communal worship very inspiring.)
I treasure this a cappella singing practice of our church. We usually sing in four-part harmony. It's quite something the first time a newcomer hears what it means for a congregation of five hundred to really sing together. (It's even more moving at large gatherings like the Pepperdine Lectures, where three thousand people who all know the same songs blast them out with heartfelt enthusiasm.)
Because I value this historic and communal type of worship so highly, I decided that I needed to help teach the children how to sing in harmony and read music.
Teaching the new first graders this Sunday refreshed me. I had to go back to the beginning and teach the very rudiments. This is a musical staff. This is a quarter note. A half note. A whole note. Here's how we sing them. Now, these other symbols are called rests. They mean we have to be quiet. Put your hand over your mouth. That's how we show that we are being silent for a rest!
The first graders are excellent. They're going to give my star fourth-grade class a run for their money. They grasped the music theory amazingly well, especially considering that only one of them has started piano lessons. They're only six, so their ability to understand that we're learning a code is quite impressive.
What really thrills me, though, is that several of the children are unusually responsive to the music that we sing. I taught them a gospel song called "Ain't No Rock." A little boy was snapping his fingers and clapping with me, while a blonde girl sang with selfless spirit and not an ounce of "performing" to ruin it.
I saw the little girl's grandparents outside the classroom afterwards, and I raved to them about how great she was. The grandma said: "Oh, yes, she loves music, and she has the music in her heart."
Usually, I might suspect a little fond partiality in this kind of comment. Not this time. That little girl really does have the music deep down inside. It's a gift.
It's wonderful to teach music to children who love music. I'm pretty happy about my new first graders! The sixth-grade class that just left the elementary rotation was small and mostly male. Boys of that age tend to be reluctant to sing, and these boys were VERY reluctant, despite the fact that at least two of them were capable of singing well when they wished. Now, I've exchanged a class of non-singers for a class of great singers and music-lovers! Don't get me wrong--I think teaching music is valuable for everyone, even the ones who groan and look sheepish and won't sing. They still benefit from my efforts. But it makes it more fun for me when I get a really enthusiastic group. And it's even better when I discover that some of them are going to be in the musical I'm directing in only...gasp! two weeks...
Our church is one of a small number of churches in the United States that sing only a cappella. That practice has preserved our congregational singing. Sadly, many churches with instrumental music no longer see much participation from their congregations. Whether the music is traditional (with a choir and piano), or contemporary (with a "praise band"), the emphasis at many instrumentally-backed worship services is on professional-quality performing rather than amateur communal singing. (I don't mean to imply that instrumental worship music is necessarily any less worthy or sincere than a cappella--it's simply not to my taste, because of the frequent lack of participation by the congregation. In many predominantly African-American churches, instruments have not hurt the singing of the congregation, and I find gospel-influenced communal worship very inspiring.)
I treasure this a cappella singing practice of our church. We usually sing in four-part harmony. It's quite something the first time a newcomer hears what it means for a congregation of five hundred to really sing together. (It's even more moving at large gatherings like the Pepperdine Lectures, where three thousand people who all know the same songs blast them out with heartfelt enthusiasm.)
Because I value this historic and communal type of worship so highly, I decided that I needed to help teach the children how to sing in harmony and read music.
Teaching the new first graders this Sunday refreshed me. I had to go back to the beginning and teach the very rudiments. This is a musical staff. This is a quarter note. A half note. A whole note. Here's how we sing them. Now, these other symbols are called rests. They mean we have to be quiet. Put your hand over your mouth. That's how we show that we are being silent for a rest!
The first graders are excellent. They're going to give my star fourth-grade class a run for their money. They grasped the music theory amazingly well, especially considering that only one of them has started piano lessons. They're only six, so their ability to understand that we're learning a code is quite impressive.
What really thrills me, though, is that several of the children are unusually responsive to the music that we sing. I taught them a gospel song called "Ain't No Rock." A little boy was snapping his fingers and clapping with me, while a blonde girl sang with selfless spirit and not an ounce of "performing" to ruin it.
I saw the little girl's grandparents outside the classroom afterwards, and I raved to them about how great she was. The grandma said: "Oh, yes, she loves music, and she has the music in her heart."
Usually, I might suspect a little fond partiality in this kind of comment. Not this time. That little girl really does have the music deep down inside. It's a gift.
It's wonderful to teach music to children who love music. I'm pretty happy about my new first graders! The sixth-grade class that just left the elementary rotation was small and mostly male. Boys of that age tend to be reluctant to sing, and these boys were VERY reluctant, despite the fact that at least two of them were capable of singing well when they wished. Now, I've exchanged a class of non-singers for a class of great singers and music-lovers! Don't get me wrong--I think teaching music is valuable for everyone, even the ones who groan and look sheepish and won't sing. They still benefit from my efforts. But it makes it more fun for me when I get a really enthusiastic group. And it's even better when I discover that some of them are going to be in the musical I'm directing in only...gasp! two weeks...
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Joy is Serious Business!
As I walked around Walmart gathering hotdogs, chocolate, and marshmallows for our one-night camping expedition, I felt light at heart--so happy at the prospect of our camping trip that I surprised myself.
I really like camping. I had forgotten how much I like camping until this afternoon. The last time we went camping was seven years ago, when we were newlyweds and had no child yet.
It's a shame that we let the pressures of everyday life prevent us from doing the simple things that bring us such joy. We tell ourselves that it's impossible to camp, or play boardgames, or sing with a chorus, or play softball, or whatever it is that makes us joyful. But we're succumbing to false impressions when we think that that we don't have time, or that we are too tired, or that we have too many "important" things to do.
I've told myself these falsehoods about recreation plenty of times. A few years back, I was struggling with my responsibilities as a young mother with a traveling husband and a dissertation to finish. I went to visit my parents in another state. We enjoyed playing boardgames every night, as we usually do when we go to their house. At one point, I remarked to my dad that I wished I had time to play boardgames at our own home back in Ohio. He gave me a brief, concerned look and said: "You have to make time." Then we went back to our jovial efforts to triumph at our game of the night.
His look of concern stuck with me, as did the truth of his words. I had worked myself to the bone, grinding myself down with what I told myself was "necessity." In actuality, the only necessity was taking care of my daughter. Everything else was negotiable. I realized that I needed to give myself some playtime, and open the door to let joy in.
I play boardgames at least once a month these days, and aim to play more frequently. Now we're going camping. When I camp, I enjoy my family and friends, the crackling fire, fresh air, beautiful trees, and my memories of childhood camping trips. I can't wait!
Dance and game are frivolous, unimportant down here; for down here is not their natural place. Here, they are a moment's rest from the life we are placed here to live. But in this world everything is upside down. That which, if it could be prolonged here, would be a truancy, is likest that which in a better country is the End of Ends. Joy is the serious business of Heaven.
C.S. Lewis
I really like camping. I had forgotten how much I like camping until this afternoon. The last time we went camping was seven years ago, when we were newlyweds and had no child yet.
It's a shame that we let the pressures of everyday life prevent us from doing the simple things that bring us such joy. We tell ourselves that it's impossible to camp, or play boardgames, or sing with a chorus, or play softball, or whatever it is that makes us joyful. But we're succumbing to false impressions when we think that that we don't have time, or that we are too tired, or that we have too many "important" things to do.
I've told myself these falsehoods about recreation plenty of times. A few years back, I was struggling with my responsibilities as a young mother with a traveling husband and a dissertation to finish. I went to visit my parents in another state. We enjoyed playing boardgames every night, as we usually do when we go to their house. At one point, I remarked to my dad that I wished I had time to play boardgames at our own home back in Ohio. He gave me a brief, concerned look and said: "You have to make time." Then we went back to our jovial efforts to triumph at our game of the night.
His look of concern stuck with me, as did the truth of his words. I had worked myself to the bone, grinding myself down with what I told myself was "necessity." In actuality, the only necessity was taking care of my daughter. Everything else was negotiable. I realized that I needed to give myself some playtime, and open the door to let joy in.
I play boardgames at least once a month these days, and aim to play more frequently. Now we're going camping. When I camp, I enjoy my family and friends, the crackling fire, fresh air, beautiful trees, and my memories of childhood camping trips. I can't wait!
Dance and game are frivolous, unimportant down here; for down here is not their natural place. Here, they are a moment's rest from the life we are placed here to live. But in this world everything is upside down. That which, if it could be prolonged here, would be a truancy, is likest that which in a better country is the End of Ends. Joy is the serious business of Heaven.
C.S. Lewis
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Brand Loyalty for Writers
McDonald's has just started serving a "Southern-style chicken sandwich," as well as a "Southern-style chicken breakfast biscuit." The sandwich and biscuit are direct copies of the Chick-Fil-A sandwich, right down to the two pickle slices on top.
As the mother of a five-year-old, I visit McDonald's far too often, in part because it's the burger/nugget joint closest to my home. Because McDonald's is only five minutes away and Chick-Fil-A is fifteen minutes away, I'm glad McDonald's is now offering this rip-off of the Chick-Fil-A sandwich. It's not quite as good as the Chick-Fil-A original, but it's better than a lot of the offerings at McDonald's.
Nonetheless, despite the fact that I will order the McDonald's clone, I still only tolerate McDonald's as a necessary substitute when I can't get the REALLY good food from Chick-Fil-A. Why do I love Chick-Fil-A so much? They are the first and the best.
The lesson here for novelists who want to build brand loyalty is that we have to be either the first (original), the best (amazingly good), or preferably, BOTH, if we want people to love our novels and become loyal readers.
The subject of reader loyalty has been bubbling around in my subconscious for some time. I find that many novels out there on the retail shelves are good at "hooking" the reader, but they don't have the chops to retain the reader and bring her back for more.
New authors come under intense pressure to use strong, rapid plotting to "hook" the reader. That pressure obscures the equal necessity of developing characters to satisfy the reader in a more lasting way.
Plot and character stand in direct opposition to one another in this battle of marketing. Developing characters who seem real takes time. It requires us to allow our novels to "breathe" a little, in the midst of the breathless rush to keep people interested with suspense and conflict.
In my novel, for example, it's necessary to show the family life of my protagonist in order to show the reader who he is. His family life is happy and loving. That sets up a tension for me between driving the action of my novel vs. allowing the reader to really love my character. Right now, I'm figuring out whether I need to reposition the moments when I allow the novel to "breathe." If I position them correctly, I can satisfy the plot hounds while still writing a good novel.
Sure, any capable author can write a novel that is almost pure plot with a mere window-dressing of character. I've read a few of that type in the course of researching my genre. That kind of novel may be easier to publish initially, but it's not the kind of novel that wins awards or develops a loyal fan base. Loyal readers trust the authors they love to provide them with a real Chick-Fil-A sandwich, not the McDonald's imitation.
As the mother of a five-year-old, I visit McDonald's far too often, in part because it's the burger/nugget joint closest to my home. Because McDonald's is only five minutes away and Chick-Fil-A is fifteen minutes away, I'm glad McDonald's is now offering this rip-off of the Chick-Fil-A sandwich. It's not quite as good as the Chick-Fil-A original, but it's better than a lot of the offerings at McDonald's.
Nonetheless, despite the fact that I will order the McDonald's clone, I still only tolerate McDonald's as a necessary substitute when I can't get the REALLY good food from Chick-Fil-A. Why do I love Chick-Fil-A so much? They are the first and the best.
The lesson here for novelists who want to build brand loyalty is that we have to be either the first (original), the best (amazingly good), or preferably, BOTH, if we want people to love our novels and become loyal readers.
The subject of reader loyalty has been bubbling around in my subconscious for some time. I find that many novels out there on the retail shelves are good at "hooking" the reader, but they don't have the chops to retain the reader and bring her back for more.
New authors come under intense pressure to use strong, rapid plotting to "hook" the reader. That pressure obscures the equal necessity of developing characters to satisfy the reader in a more lasting way.
Plot and character stand in direct opposition to one another in this battle of marketing. Developing characters who seem real takes time. It requires us to allow our novels to "breathe" a little, in the midst of the breathless rush to keep people interested with suspense and conflict.
In my novel, for example, it's necessary to show the family life of my protagonist in order to show the reader who he is. His family life is happy and loving. That sets up a tension for me between driving the action of my novel vs. allowing the reader to really love my character. Right now, I'm figuring out whether I need to reposition the moments when I allow the novel to "breathe." If I position them correctly, I can satisfy the plot hounds while still writing a good novel.
Sure, any capable author can write a novel that is almost pure plot with a mere window-dressing of character. I've read a few of that type in the course of researching my genre. That kind of novel may be easier to publish initially, but it's not the kind of novel that wins awards or develops a loyal fan base. Loyal readers trust the authors they love to provide them with a real Chick-Fil-A sandwich, not the McDonald's imitation.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Titles That Sell
The other day, I looked at my sitemeter for this blog and saw that for the second time in a month, I had received a large number of hits in the space of two minutes. My sitemeter records the origin of these hits (Tel Aviv, Mexico, Nevada, Minnesota) and I knew from the random geographical distribution that I must be getting hits from Blogger.
Blogger lists all recently-updated blogs in a rolling headline. Despite this public invitation for random net-surfers, my blog has only received a massive number of hits within seconds on two occasions. My best guess is that on those two days, the titles of my blog posts were widely-appealing.
My first instantly-popular post was titled "A Writer's Voice." Posts on writing will appeal disproportionately to bloggers, who are usually writers themselves. The second post was named "Ruidoso Riders." This might have intrigued several different types of net-surfers: those who know the town of Ruidoso, those who ride horses, and those who love motorcycles.
I spent some time thinking about other successful and unsuccessful titles that I've noticed in the media.
First, I remembered some great titles from inspirational fiction lists:
Petticoat Ranch - This title for a western romantic comedy recalls other successful comedies like Operation Petticoat (Cary Grant movie) and Petticoat Junction. In two words, the author lets you know that her novel is historical, western, and contains romantic comedy.
Searching for Spice - This contemporary novel focuses on a wife who is trying to revive the romance in her relationship with her husband. It's hard to imagine a more universally-appealing theme for this novel's target audience. "Searching for spice" is a perfect phrase to express the problem in an upbeat, comedic way.
A Bride Most Begrudging - For the typical reader of romantic historicals, this title is a winner. Even a cursory glance at the shelves of the inspirational section in the bookstore reveals that the word "bride" or "wedding" must be a huge seller for romance. I must have seen ten novels that included those words in the title the last time I looked. This title also contains immediate conflict (reluctant bride), and conflict is what hooks a reader.
From inspirational titles, I moved on to consider films. Movie titles, like novel titles, always seek a specific audience. SOme of these movie titles came from novels originally, but whoever did the titling did it well. Here are some of the movie titles that were fantastic choices to sell to the target audience:
Master and Commander (Russell Crowe movie about sailors, manly with a capital M. Title appeals to both men who want to be manly and women who want to ogle a manly man. Alternative terrible title: A Life at Sea)
Amazing Grace (The story of William Wilberforce and his effort to abolish slavery in England. Title appeals to Christian audience. Alternative terrible title: Wilberforce)
Sleepless in Seattle (Romantic comedy with a title that stands out among all the bland titles of most romantic comedies. Alternative terrible title: One Chance at Love)
The very worst titles aren't the ridiculous ones (Snakes on a Plane, To Wong Foo-Thanks for Everything-Julie Newmar, Attack of the Killer Clowns). The worst ones are the forgettable ones.
My husband and I *loved* a teen romantic comedy we saw a few years back, but we have great difficulty remembering its title. It was "10 Things I Hate About You." The problem is that like many romantic comedies, it has a title that is completely interchangeable with any other romantic comedy (As Good As It Gets, Someone Like You, Serendipity). Nothing about the title recalls this specific film set in a high school and based on The Taming of the Shrew.
More forgettable titles: The Stranger, The Visitor, The Happening (all out in theaters right now). How will we ever be able to tell one from the other? "Which movie was that, honey?" "Well, it was the one where something...happened." "You know, it was that one where someone...visited." No, if you want a spooky title, try something like "The Exorcism of Emily Rose." I'll bet you a hundred dollars that movie wouldn't have made a dime if it had been titled "The Happening."
Blogger lists all recently-updated blogs in a rolling headline. Despite this public invitation for random net-surfers, my blog has only received a massive number of hits within seconds on two occasions. My best guess is that on those two days, the titles of my blog posts were widely-appealing.
My first instantly-popular post was titled "A Writer's Voice." Posts on writing will appeal disproportionately to bloggers, who are usually writers themselves. The second post was named "Ruidoso Riders." This might have intrigued several different types of net-surfers: those who know the town of Ruidoso, those who ride horses, and those who love motorcycles.
I spent some time thinking about other successful and unsuccessful titles that I've noticed in the media.
First, I remembered some great titles from inspirational fiction lists:
Petticoat Ranch - This title for a western romantic comedy recalls other successful comedies like Operation Petticoat (Cary Grant movie) and Petticoat Junction. In two words, the author lets you know that her novel is historical, western, and contains romantic comedy.
Searching for Spice - This contemporary novel focuses on a wife who is trying to revive the romance in her relationship with her husband. It's hard to imagine a more universally-appealing theme for this novel's target audience. "Searching for spice" is a perfect phrase to express the problem in an upbeat, comedic way.
A Bride Most Begrudging - For the typical reader of romantic historicals, this title is a winner. Even a cursory glance at the shelves of the inspirational section in the bookstore reveals that the word "bride" or "wedding" must be a huge seller for romance. I must have seen ten novels that included those words in the title the last time I looked. This title also contains immediate conflict (reluctant bride), and conflict is what hooks a reader.
From inspirational titles, I moved on to consider films. Movie titles, like novel titles, always seek a specific audience. SOme of these movie titles came from novels originally, but whoever did the titling did it well. Here are some of the movie titles that were fantastic choices to sell to the target audience:
Master and Commander (Russell Crowe movie about sailors, manly with a capital M. Title appeals to both men who want to be manly and women who want to ogle a manly man. Alternative terrible title: A Life at Sea)
Amazing Grace (The story of William Wilberforce and his effort to abolish slavery in England. Title appeals to Christian audience. Alternative terrible title: Wilberforce)
Sleepless in Seattle (Romantic comedy with a title that stands out among all the bland titles of most romantic comedies. Alternative terrible title: One Chance at Love)
The very worst titles aren't the ridiculous ones (Snakes on a Plane, To Wong Foo-Thanks for Everything-Julie Newmar, Attack of the Killer Clowns). The worst ones are the forgettable ones.
My husband and I *loved* a teen romantic comedy we saw a few years back, but we have great difficulty remembering its title. It was "10 Things I Hate About You." The problem is that like many romantic comedies, it has a title that is completely interchangeable with any other romantic comedy (As Good As It Gets, Someone Like You, Serendipity). Nothing about the title recalls this specific film set in a high school and based on The Taming of the Shrew.
More forgettable titles: The Stranger, The Visitor, The Happening (all out in theaters right now). How will we ever be able to tell one from the other? "Which movie was that, honey?" "Well, it was the one where something...happened." "You know, it was that one where someone...visited." No, if you want a spooky title, try something like "The Exorcism of Emily Rose." I'll bet you a hundred dollars that movie wouldn't have made a dime if it had been titled "The Happening."
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Ruidoso Riders
Our visit to Ruidoso this weekend was lovely and relaxing. Here's the view from the enormous window of the inn.
That's a wine festival in the white tents on the border of the lake. We didn't go--we were enjoying the natural beauty around us instead.
One of my favorite activities was our trail ride. I haven't been on horseback in some time, though I was an avid rider when I was young.
In the center below is my husband mounted on his faithful steed, George the Appaloosa.
Here's the view from the back of my palomino, Nugget.
The horses were on autopilot, so we could enjoy the gentle rhythm of the walk and the hilly scenery. The water-like noise of wind rushing through treetops was serene. At horse-level, we felt only a gentle breeze.
Thanks to the sharp eyes of our trail guide, we saw a gigantic elk (a doe) about twenty feet away through the trees. I didn't get the elk on film, but that's OK. I was just glad I finally saw it, after everyone tried to point it out to me for a few minutes. ("It's under that tall pine." "No, that one.")
For some reason, I was particularly happy to see these baby pines. So many things in our world no longer happen naturally that there's something awe-inspiring about the simple ability of a pinecone to fall from a tree, take root, and produce new life.
Taking a trail ride gave us the chance to slow down and observe little things in the woods: broken tree-limbs, the color of new wood, a maple tree's gush of sap that had ossified into a permanent cascade of golden drops down its trunk.
That's a wine festival in the white tents on the border of the lake. We didn't go--we were enjoying the natural beauty around us instead.
One of my favorite activities was our trail ride. I haven't been on horseback in some time, though I was an avid rider when I was young.
In the center below is my husband mounted on his faithful steed, George the Appaloosa.
Here's the view from the back of my palomino, Nugget.
The horses were on autopilot, so we could enjoy the gentle rhythm of the walk and the hilly scenery. The water-like noise of wind rushing through treetops was serene. At horse-level, we felt only a gentle breeze.
Thanks to the sharp eyes of our trail guide, we saw a gigantic elk (a doe) about twenty feet away through the trees. I didn't get the elk on film, but that's OK. I was just glad I finally saw it, after everyone tried to point it out to me for a few minutes. ("It's under that tall pine." "No, that one.")
For some reason, I was particularly happy to see these baby pines. So many things in our world no longer happen naturally that there's something awe-inspiring about the simple ability of a pinecone to fall from a tree, take root, and produce new life.
Taking a trail ride gave us the chance to slow down and observe little things in the woods: broken tree-limbs, the color of new wood, a maple tree's gush of sap that had ossified into a permanent cascade of golden drops down its trunk.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
The Ooze of Oil Crushed
Saudi Arabia is calling an emergency meeting with the world's leading consumers of oil. The Saudis are very upset about the high price of oil.
Seriously? Seriously.
For those who haven't been paying attention, the high price of oil doesn't have much to do with OPEC. Here are the statistics on this year's profits for the big oil companies:
ExxonMobil recently reported $10.9 billion in earnings for the first three months of this year. That's up 17 percent from the year before. And ExxonMobil wasn't alone. BP's earnings are up 60 percent; Shell, 25 percent; ConocoPhillips, 17 percent; and Chevron profits rose 10 percent.
The higher prices for gas that are causing Americans to change their driving habits are in large part due to price-gouging by Big Oil. Once the oil companies figured out that they could charge $3.00 per gallon and people would still buy, $3.00 became the new normal.
The reason the Saudis are upset is that the move to $4.00 per gallon has finally broken the consumer's gas habit. No one is buying SUVs. People are even looking into (gasp!) small, fuel-efficient cars and hybrids. The Saudis are worried that America is about to undergo a sea change that will significantly decrease her dependence on Middle Eastern oil.
I am delighted that gas is now at $4.00 a gallon. It's about time we took advantage of hybrid vehicles and electric vehicles. They've been around for a long time, but there hasn't been sufficient consumer demand to make them plentiful and affordable.
The oil companies' record profits may produce the biggest environmental leap forward in generations. I'm not a bandwagon-jumper, and I don't subscribe to any particular environmental movement. But I do believe that we have a responsibility to be good stewards of this beautiful world we live in.
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; Bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
One of my all-time favorites, "God's Grandeur" by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Seriously? Seriously.
For those who haven't been paying attention, the high price of oil doesn't have much to do with OPEC. Here are the statistics on this year's profits for the big oil companies:
ExxonMobil recently reported $10.9 billion in earnings for the first three months of this year. That's up 17 percent from the year before. And ExxonMobil wasn't alone. BP's earnings are up 60 percent; Shell, 25 percent; ConocoPhillips, 17 percent; and Chevron profits rose 10 percent.
The higher prices for gas that are causing Americans to change their driving habits are in large part due to price-gouging by Big Oil. Once the oil companies figured out that they could charge $3.00 per gallon and people would still buy, $3.00 became the new normal.
The reason the Saudis are upset is that the move to $4.00 per gallon has finally broken the consumer's gas habit. No one is buying SUVs. People are even looking into (gasp!) small, fuel-efficient cars and hybrids. The Saudis are worried that America is about to undergo a sea change that will significantly decrease her dependence on Middle Eastern oil.
I am delighted that gas is now at $4.00 a gallon. It's about time we took advantage of hybrid vehicles and electric vehicles. They've been around for a long time, but there hasn't been sufficient consumer demand to make them plentiful and affordable.
The oil companies' record profits may produce the biggest environmental leap forward in generations. I'm not a bandwagon-jumper, and I don't subscribe to any particular environmental movement. But I do believe that we have a responsibility to be good stewards of this beautiful world we live in.
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; Bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
One of my all-time favorites, "God's Grandeur" by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Sunday, June 8, 2008
"Your Novel Is Different..."
Because my novel is with several agents right now, I'm experiencing for the first time the ups and downs of the long, long wait from the time of submission until the time of response.
I've spent a long time learning how to write, and I can claim proficiency in my craft without a blush. I'm a novice, however, at the business of writing. I had no idea when I submitted these proposals and manuscripts that it usually takes a minimum of three months for an agent to respond, even after she has requested an author's manuscript.
I am learning to put these submissions out of my mind as much as possible, and get on with my next project. Despite my best efforts to be reasonable, I find myself occasionally feeling down about the long silence from agent-land. Silence makes me question myself, and though I value constructive self-criticism, it's pointless in this case.
Thus far, four people have read my manuscript: my two critique partners, my husband, and a friend of mine who is a regular reader of inspirational historicals. My critique partners and my husband received the novel piecemeal as I wrote it. Only my reader-friend Rachel has read it as its future reader will experience it, moving from cover to cover in a number of days rather than over twelve months.
Lately, I have loaned Rachel a number of new inspirational historicals by several well-known authors. Rachel provides me with a brief commentary on each novel she reads; her opinions are very helpful to me as I try to get a feel for how the work of my peers appeals to the public. She's a good critic, because she has high but not impossible standards for the quality of novels.
Last night, she said something that was very, very encouraging to me. She may not even realize how encouraging it was, though I suppose she will when she reads this blog post!
As we entered a dim restaurant and looked around for our other friends, we were talking about dogs. She changed the subject.
"You know," she said. "Since I've been reading those other novels, I've realized that your novel is different. It fills a different niche."
HOORAY! I have never told her anything like that about my novel, so she arrived at that conclusion on her own. Rachel could explain what she means by different, and I could explain what she means by it, but it doesn't really matter. We both know what she means. When the novel is published, other readers of inspirational historicals will find out what she means. I hope that the "different niche" that was evident to her will be as clear to the agents and editors who will be reading it over the coming months.
I've spent a long time learning how to write, and I can claim proficiency in my craft without a blush. I'm a novice, however, at the business of writing. I had no idea when I submitted these proposals and manuscripts that it usually takes a minimum of three months for an agent to respond, even after she has requested an author's manuscript.
I am learning to put these submissions out of my mind as much as possible, and get on with my next project. Despite my best efforts to be reasonable, I find myself occasionally feeling down about the long silence from agent-land. Silence makes me question myself, and though I value constructive self-criticism, it's pointless in this case.
Thus far, four people have read my manuscript: my two critique partners, my husband, and a friend of mine who is a regular reader of inspirational historicals. My critique partners and my husband received the novel piecemeal as I wrote it. Only my reader-friend Rachel has read it as its future reader will experience it, moving from cover to cover in a number of days rather than over twelve months.
Lately, I have loaned Rachel a number of new inspirational historicals by several well-known authors. Rachel provides me with a brief commentary on each novel she reads; her opinions are very helpful to me as I try to get a feel for how the work of my peers appeals to the public. She's a good critic, because she has high but not impossible standards for the quality of novels.
Last night, she said something that was very, very encouraging to me. She may not even realize how encouraging it was, though I suppose she will when she reads this blog post!
As we entered a dim restaurant and looked around for our other friends, we were talking about dogs. She changed the subject.
"You know," she said. "Since I've been reading those other novels, I've realized that your novel is different. It fills a different niche."
HOORAY! I have never told her anything like that about my novel, so she arrived at that conclusion on her own. Rachel could explain what she means by different, and I could explain what she means by it, but it doesn't really matter. We both know what she means. When the novel is published, other readers of inspirational historicals will find out what she means. I hope that the "different niche" that was evident to her will be as clear to the agents and editors who will be reading it over the coming months.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
My Celtic Name
Someone in my large writers' organization requested that we all tell one another the correct pronunciation of our names so as to avoid confusion when we meet at the national conference in September. That's not a bad idea, though mine doesn't really need explanation.
Because our email listserv is now deluged with messages about names and pronunciation, I'm going to spare them yet another message by posting my contribution to my blog. Though many people pronounce my name Rozlyn or Roz-a-lyn, which is not correct, I really don't mind.(The actual pronunciation is Ross-lyn,a two-syllable word with an "s" sound, not a "z" sound.)
The reason for the uncommon spelling of my name is that my parents named me for the town of Rosslyn, Virginia. My father was stationed at the Pentagon when I was born; Rosslyn was a nearby suburb.
Rosslyn, Virginia was in its turn named after Rosslyn, Scotland. I visited Rosslyn Chapel as a girl, two decades before The Da Vinci Code made that odd Masonic/Christian church famous.
If my name were Rosaline or Rosalind, it would derive from Romance languages and would mean "beautiful rose."
Instead, my name derives from the Celtic/Gaelic words "Ross" and "Lyn." Accordingly, it means "a rocky promontory/a lake or pool." My middle name is a form of the Franco-Saxon word for "fairy." When I was about ten years old and deep in my fairy/unicorn stage, I thought the meaning of my given names was the hottest thing since sliced bread. I always imagined a fairy perched on the rock beside the pool. :-)
Because our email listserv is now deluged with messages about names and pronunciation, I'm going to spare them yet another message by posting my contribution to my blog. Though many people pronounce my name Rozlyn or Roz-a-lyn, which is not correct, I really don't mind.(The actual pronunciation is Ross-lyn,a two-syllable word with an "s" sound, not a "z" sound.)
The reason for the uncommon spelling of my name is that my parents named me for the town of Rosslyn, Virginia. My father was stationed at the Pentagon when I was born; Rosslyn was a nearby suburb.
Rosslyn, Virginia was in its turn named after Rosslyn, Scotland. I visited Rosslyn Chapel as a girl, two decades before The Da Vinci Code made that odd Masonic/Christian church famous.
If my name were Rosaline or Rosalind, it would derive from Romance languages and would mean "beautiful rose."
Instead, my name derives from the Celtic/Gaelic words "Ross" and "Lyn." Accordingly, it means "a rocky promontory/a lake or pool." My middle name is a form of the Franco-Saxon word for "fairy." When I was about ten years old and deep in my fairy/unicorn stage, I thought the meaning of my given names was the hottest thing since sliced bread. I always imagined a fairy perched on the rock beside the pool. :-)
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Free Speech: Choose It or Lose It
I'm pulling all kinds of interesting tidbits out of the news of late.
Here's the latest. Brigitte Bardot, aging French siren and animal-rights activist, has been convicted of inciting racial hatred in France. She published in her foundation newsletter her opinion that Muslims are destroying her country. The court slapped her with a significant fine.
Read it for yourself here:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080603/ap_en_ce/france_bardot_racism
When did Liberte', Egalite', Fraternite' lose the Liberte'? Oh, I know... she moved to New York in 1866 and is still sitting in the harbor.
Here's the latest. Brigitte Bardot, aging French siren and animal-rights activist, has been convicted of inciting racial hatred in France. She published in her foundation newsletter her opinion that Muslims are destroying her country. The court slapped her with a significant fine.
Read it for yourself here:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080603/ap_en_ce/france_bardot_racism
When did Liberte', Egalite', Fraternite' lose the Liberte'? Oh, I know... she moved to New York in 1866 and is still sitting in the harbor.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
The Shack, a novel by William Young
The Shack is a novel about a man's encounter with God. It's currently #7 on the Amazon bestseller list. Many believers find its story of renewed faith very appealing; some call it life-changing.
I haven't read it yet, but lately I've been hearing whispers that perhaps all is not well with The Shack. Champions of the novel seem to be claiming that those who don't like it are chiefly hidebound, scared fuddy-duddies who don't like the depiction of God as an African-American woman. But others have raised questions about whether the material Young presents is faithful to basic tenets of Christian theology.
Caution: If you're not a practicing Christian, you will probably find the review below tedious. Just skip it and come back for the next post. :-)
http://www.challies.com/archives/book-reviews/the-shack-by-william-p-young.php
I disagree with one point of the reviewer's theology (the nature of forgiveness), but overall, he sticks to basic theological points. There are many things I appreciate about his review, but chief among them is the way the reviewer highlights the popularity of The Shack with those who are part of the Emergent Church movement. The theological problems of the novel parallel what some have claimed is an Emergent "dumbing down" of Christianity to make it easier for postmoderns to accept. Those critics of the Emergent movement say if you dumb the theology down far enough, you end up making up your own Oprah-like religion.
I haven't read it yet, but lately I've been hearing whispers that perhaps all is not well with The Shack. Champions of the novel seem to be claiming that those who don't like it are chiefly hidebound, scared fuddy-duddies who don't like the depiction of God as an African-American woman. But others have raised questions about whether the material Young presents is faithful to basic tenets of Christian theology.
Caution: If you're not a practicing Christian, you will probably find the review below tedious. Just skip it and come back for the next post. :-)
http://www.challies.com/archives/book-reviews/the-shack-by-william-p-young.php
I disagree with one point of the reviewer's theology (the nature of forgiveness), but overall, he sticks to basic theological points. There are many things I appreciate about his review, but chief among them is the way the reviewer highlights the popularity of The Shack with those who are part of the Emergent Church movement. The theological problems of the novel parallel what some have claimed is an Emergent "dumbing down" of Christianity to make it easier for postmoderns to accept. Those critics of the Emergent movement say if you dumb the theology down far enough, you end up making up your own Oprah-like religion.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
