Rebecca Roland's Blog, page 16

What Doesn't Kill You...

I love listening to podcasts. I'm usually home with the toddler on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I enjoy having something in the background to listen to as we play or putter around the house without resorting to the television.

One of my favorite shows is NPR's This American Life. I listened to one of the most recent episodes about people who had close calls with death (title What Doesn't Kill You). I was riveted to this episode. The first part was about comedienne Tig Notaro. She went onstage a day or two after finding out she had stage 2 cancer breast cancer and opened the show with, "Hi, I have cancer. How are you?" She then went on to talk about all of the other stuff that happened to her in the few months before that diagnosis, and let me tell you, it made all of those stereotypical, depressing country music songs sound like a trip to Disneyworld. For a few months, she had more drama packed into her life than the most outrageous soap opera. And yes, she's funny. The set is funny.  I'm amazed at how much bravery she showed by getting up on stage and talking about her life like that. If you don't listen to the entire episode, at least listen to her part.

This got me thinking about writing (as so many things do) and how awful (or not) us writers can be to our characters. Joss Whedon is ruthless when it comes to his characters. They suffer. A lot. They die. Sometimes they come back. He puts them through the ringer and shows what they're made of. On the other end of the extreme are the writers who are scared to do anything bad to their characters. I'm thinking of Twilight, which was a huge disappointment for many reasons, one of which is that nothing bad ever really happens to Bella, with the exception of some stuff at the end of the first book. And I guess what happens at the beginning of the second, although I thought she had a chance to make a new life for herself, but I digress, and I don't want to spoil the series in case some teenage girl out there who hasn't read it has stumbled across this blog.

I really do try to make my characters suffer. If my pulse is racing or tears are stinging my eyes while I'm writing, then I know I'm on the right track. I want to find out what my characters made of. I like seeing them pull through the worst possible scenario I can think up. I think readers appreciate it when characters struggle.

In the Name of Research

Being a writer is a great excuse to do all sorts of things in the name of research. A few years ago, I had this idea for an urban fantasy detective novel. I never got around to writing it--yet--but I had fun taking a class on private investigation in order to do some research for the novel.

To my surprise, there is a ton of variation among states when it comes to who can be a PI. For example, in New Mexico it's required that you undergo an extensive background check, get fingerprinted, take and pass an exam, and have at least 6,000 hours of investigation-related experience in the previous five years. After you pay the fee and address the other details, then you can get licensed as a private investigator. In Colorado, however, you don't need any of that. Joe Schmoe can simply call himself a private investigator, and that's that.

We had guest speakers, including other PI's who specialized in different areas, and a psychic. The psychic would be in the middle of discussing a case she'd worked when all of a sudden she'd focus on an individual in the class and give a mini-reading right then and there. I was torn between making eye contact with her and furiously scribbling away the entire time. I was (foolishly, I admit) afraid that she'd know all my secrets and spill them in front of the class. Instead, my mini-reading was quite tame.

Private investigators can work for themselves, or for lawyers, or for corporations (doing background checks and internal investigations, for example). The best ones tend to be detail-oriented, organized, and able to think on their feet. And they seem to have even more paperwork than medical professionals.

Here's a list of some schools around the country--and a couple online--that offer PI classes.

Banned Books Week

Banned Books Week kicks off today. Find a description and a list of the top banned books of 2011 here.

To celebrate, I read one of 2011's most banned books, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie. It's a semi-autobiographical story about a 14 year old Indian boy going to an all-white school off the reservation where he lives. The introduction promises that you'll laugh in about a dozen different ways while reading, which I did. I also teared up quite a few times as well. This story is deeply moving, and Alexie pulls no punches whatsoever as he portrays what it's like to grow up feeling like an outsider. The story addresses race, poverty, alcoholism, and yes, even masturbation. Hey, the main character is a 14 year old boy!

Those are the very reasons cited when people have voted to ban this book. I found this on Wikipedia, which says that the Richland School Board in Washington initially banned the book, but when they did so, all ten copies were checked out of the library, and there were holds on the returned copies. So the members actually read the book at that time and discovered that it was, in their words, outstanding. They had banned a book without reading it. They lifted the ban a month after initiating it when it would have never happened in the first place if they'd actually read it. This makes me want to scream.

At its heart, this book is about loneliness. The main character, Arnold Spirit, Jr., feels half-Indian when he's at school in Rearden and half-white when he's home on the Spokane Indian reservation. Here's one of my favorite quotes from the book:

"I realized that I might be a lonely Indian boy, but I was not alone in my loneliness. There were millions of other Americans who had left their birthplaces in search of a dream.

I realized that, sure, I was a Spokane Indian. I belonged to that tribe. But I also belonged to the tribe of American immigrants. And to the tribe of basketball players. And to the tribe of bookworms."

And here's another great quote:

"If you let people into your life a little bit, they can be pretty damn amazing."

What's not to love about this? It's a great message. It tells teenagers, hey, you belong somewhere, you're worth something, you have a reason to be proud of yourself. I loved reading this as an adult, but I would've loved this so much more as a teenager.

Find your tribes. Embrace who you are. And celebrate Banned Books Week by reading something from the list.

Shake It!

I spent most of this past weekend in a classroom taking a continuing education course on balance. It was an excellent course, and very applicable for me as I happen to see quite a few geriatric patients. At any rate, the instructor showed us a video at one point. I found it on YouTube and thought I'd share it here. The next time a patient tells me they're too old to do something, I'll show them this woman. Now, she starts off rather sedately, but things really pick up at about the two minute mark, so watch the whole thing.

A little research revealed she was only in her 70's when this was filmed, not in her 90's as some suggested.

If You're On Your Last Nerve, Where Did The Rest Go?

Some events over the past few days have brought the phrase "on my last nerve" to mind, and I wondered where the phrase originated. It's a little strange, isn't it? "You're getting on my last nerve." "You're working on my last nerve." There are a few other variations of the phrase.

I suppose if it's your last nerve and it's exposed, then if somebody's on it, that would be excruciatingly painful. I googled and couldn't find where the phrase started. I looked through a book of clichés and couldn't find it there either. It can't be that new, can it? If anybody knows the origin of the phrase, please share.

Anyhow, that reminded me of the Room of Interesting Medical Things at Baylor College of Medicine in Houston. I'm actually not sure what the display was called, but I remember one item there. It was the entire human nervous system, carefully dissected out over a lengthy period of time. I tried to find a picture of it online because I never thought to take a photo myself. I didn't find that particular one, but I did find the nervous system of Harriet Cole. Pretty weird, huh?

Shards of History Launch Party.

This past weekend I finally, officially celebrated the release of Shards of History with a launch party. It went well, I had fun, the food was great, and the company even better. I got some excellent tips for throwing a launch party from Mary Robinette Kowal. I strongly suggest reading her post if you're going to throw such a shindig.

My husband talked me into having the party at a tea room called Special Touch, and I'm glad he did because it's a beautiful facility, as you can see here:


That's my little man sporting his jersey. The unfortunate part is that I didn't think to take any pictures during the party. I was in full blown hostess mode and thinking about my reading and making sure my son didn't touch anything on the shelves filled with delicate tea pots and cups and carousel horses. So this picture came after the party, when everybody had cleared out.

There were little sandwiches in the shape of hearts, delicate cuts of fruit, tortilla rolls, and an assortment of desserts, including tiny tarts topped with whipped cream and itty bitty pastry dragonflies.


I ate that one right after taking the picture, and it was delicious. And no, there are none left! Why are you looking at me that way? I always hold my hands behind my back!

I gave a reading, which went well. About two sentences into the reading, I realized my throat was extremely dry, and I thought, I can't stop for a sip of soda now! I was told I didn't sound nervous at all, but I couldn't quite contain my nervous energy and kept shifting my weight from one foot to the other. I've actually never read in front of a crowd not dominated by writers, and I was a little anxious about the response I'd get.

I didn't have physical books to sign, so I signed bookmarks instead, and I included those bookmarks in the gift bags that I gave to the guests, along with feather pens and tiny little notebooks made of upcycled paint sample cards, like so:


The pens were quick and easy to make and tied in with the theme of the novel, and also tied in with the theme of writing in general (as did the notebooks). I ordered the notebooks from One Stitch Designs on Etsy, and I also included chocolate in the gift bags, just in case my guests weren't hyper enough from dessert.

Some friends over at Frame-N-Art framed the cover art for me:


I have yet to hang it in my office, but believe me, it will have a place of honor!

Also, one of my guests mentioned that she and her family recently acquired some chickens, and they had named all but one. They named their last one after a character in the novel. As the 2007 Odyssey workshop class has a thing about chickens, and this novel began at the workshop, this seemed most appropriate.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

My favorite time of year is just around the corner.

It starts in early October with the International Balloon Fiesta. The Balloon Fiesta is touted as the most photographed event in the world. That may or may not be true, but there are certainly plenty of people snapping pictures and filming. If you haven't ever been to the Balloon Fiesta, it's a bit difficult to describe. There are hot air balloons everywhere. They go up in waves, and they're in such cheerful colors. The burners hiss like dragons, and if you stand close enough to one, it helps alleviate the chill in the air. If you get there early enough, you can watch the dawn patrol, which consists of several balloons that take off to assess the wind conditions. They light up the pre-dawn like stars. And then you get to watch the sky turn to gray and then light blue and then the brilliant blue typical of the Southwest as the rest of the hundreds of balloons take off.

And then there's Halloween. It brings out the kid in me every time. Last year I took my son out trick-or-treating for the first time while his father stayed behind to hand out candy. He was a bit apprehensive at first, but when he realized people were giving him candy he got into the swing of it pretty quick. I'm still trying to figure out his costume this year, although I think I know what mine will be. Steampunk My Little Pony, anyone?

After that the holidays come one right after the other. I've always enjoyed the holidays, but celebrating with a young child makes them that much more special. I find myself watching my son's face, trying to memorize every minute expression of joy and amazement as he takes it all in, and I am dying to know what's going on in his mind.

Unfortunately, this glut of celebration makes January and February drag by, and by March I'm antsy for Spring and green, or what passes for greenery in the desert.

Bubonicon

I enjoy conventions. I love being surrounded by like-minded geeks, writers, artists, storm troopers, Captain Mals, and the odd assortment of people who just really dig science fiction and fantasy. I don't have to apologize for being nerdy. And, I'm not the only highly myopic person! Hey, it's the little things....

Bubonicon is a local, small con that happens to be frequented by lots of talented writers. It's the sort of con where you can easily bump into people like George RR Martin. Or rather, you could just stare at him as he excuses himself to pass by you, thus making yourself look like a complete moron. Not that I did that or anything. Ahem.

The theme this year was all about the end of the world. The Mayans predicted that it would all come to an end this year on December 21st. And it does seem as if there's been a surge in apocalyptic fiction in the past decade. So what's the deal? Why are we so obsessed with the end of the world? Part of it probably stems from issues such as global warming, overpopulation, and the recession. Part of it is the appeal of starting over again. We can do it better next time around. And I think part of it is that we like seeing people survive against huge odds. There's something innately hopeful about that.

Earth Abides is currently on my TBR list. One of the novels I read recently that depicted the apocalypse differently was Will McIntosh's Soft Apocalypse . In this novel, the world doesn't end with some global catastrophe that wipes out 95% of the population overnight. Rather, the collapse comes slowly, with people clinging to the old ways and hoping that things will pick up. I found it chilling, and in many ways more disturbing than novels in which the end comes suddenly.

I've read The Hunger Games and The Stand, as I think many have, and enjoyed both immensely. I Am Legend had an interesting take on the end of humanity as we know it (the novel, not the movie). I started The Road and put it down after only a few pages because it already depressed the hell out of me, and from what I understand, it didn't lighten up. I like a healthy dash of hope in my apocalypse, thank you very much.

If you've read any outstanding post-apocalyptic works, please share. Right after you make sure your zombie survival kit is up-to-date.

An Artist's Date

I started reading Julia Cameron's  The Artist's Way  years ago and ran out of steam before I could finish the book, but one of the things I took to heart was the artist's date. An artist's date is meant to fill the well of experience that you draw from. It's time away from your busy schedule to rejuvenate. It's an adventure. It's about play. It can mean going to a museum, taking a hike, trying a new restaurant, exploring a flea market. You never know what you'll find. And according to Cameron, you must go alone.

I love doing adventurous things, trying something new, traveling. However, I have little to no alone time. So for most of the past couple of years, my toddler has gone with me on my artist's dates. Sometimes I have to cut them short, and I don't have the luxury of just sitting still with my thoughts, at least not until later in the day when he's sleeping. But I get to share my love of art, nature, and adventure with my son, and because I find myself pointing out scenery or music or art that I particularly enjoy, I still manage to fit in some deep thought every so often (yes, that's my tongue in my cheek). And besides, little kids are all about play and fun and adventure. Two year olds have no inhibitions. They just do and go, laugh and cry, spin and run and drop to the ground to play with something that catches their eye. They give every moment their all. What better companion for an artist's date?

This past weekend we headed to Old Town and listened to Shelley Morningsong and watched a buffalo dance. Oh, and this guy and his cat were there, appreciating the show:


We listened to contemporary Native American music, enjoyed the dancing, and got to people watch. My son flirted with a five year old, played in the dirt, and picked a flower he probably should have left alone. If only it hadn't been as hot as Hades, it would've been a perfect afternoon.

Here's a list of a hundred ideas for an artist's date. Go, have fun, play, explore! And if you have any ideas for an artist's date, please share.

Storms and Cover Art

This blog post first appeared on the World Weaver Press website, in which I talk about the cover art for Shards of History:



Storms often blew in where I grew up in South Texas. I recall one in particular that I watched roll in at night. Massive clouds blocked the stars. Webs of lightning streaked across the sky. Thunder grew louder as the storm marched towards the small trailer where my family and I were spending the weekend. I felt tiny in the onslaught of that storm, but I also felt the power of it. I couldn’t move from the window as the storm overtook us.The storm clouds on the cover of Shards of History remind me of that night, and I have a feeling the woman on the cover feels much the same as I did. The storm heading towards her is massive and powerful, but you see her heading into it anyway. Maybe she’s scared. It’s hard to tell since you can’t see her face. But she’s standing straight and moving forward, so even if she is scared, she’s not letting it stop her. That’s the kind of heroine I strove to portray in the novel, and I’m glad it’s reflected in the cover.The feathers are key to the novel as well, acting as memory wells and a means of communication. They provide a soft contrast to the harsh storm that’s brewing.I adore this cover. I’d like to thank the kind folks over at Good Choice Reading for launching it, and also a big thanks to those who put all the hard work into designing it.