Taven Moore's Blog, page 24

[Anne] Tiger Mother

Perry encouraged me to read the Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. I may review that by the end of this, but I may also just meander around and pull in a bunch of related topics that end up not addressing anything.

We attended Palm Sunday Mass, which was not really a Mass since it was in a Methodist church, and had the opportunity to see a great number of people we had not seen in a while. One of those people is a woman I have known for almost 40 years now. And I made her cry.

She is the mother of a forty-ish son who is embroiled in a bitter divorce, a fact I was not really aware of when I made the statement to a group asking about my kids. I said that the objective I have is a mother is not to make sure my children are well educated, have a great career, or are the star anything that they attempt, but to make sure my children have compassion, empathy and the skills to handle their emotions in a meaningful manner. Because changing jobs, majors, ambitions…those are relatively easy things to do. It is our sorrow and grief, our anger and resentment, our sense of failure that proves difficult in a lifetime. And changing a family? That is the most difficult thing to do.

And so this mother broke down in tears and confirmed that I was right. She said her son is very smart, educated, and has a fabulous career, but this divorce is ruining his soul, as he is consumed with bitterness and anger. And that doesn’t even account for the effects on the two children the couple had.

I was being bombarded with questions about the goals and ambitions of my sons, in terms of careers, schools, majors. I was really trying to explain that I don’t have those details in my brain, because that is not my focus. My sons carry those details in their brains. I wasn’t even trying to be profound. I was trying to not look like a terrible mother, and then someone started crying. This meant I had to hug someone. This is why I like mostly to be an OBSERVER in public settings, because when I am bold enough to speak, I tend to make a mess of things. And I am not a natural hugger, so this whole scene was a catastrophe for me.

So, Perry, still want my opinion of the Tiger Mother?

Mothers are crazy. And like unhappy families, we are all crazy in our own way. I got a million crazy mother stories. Some are mine, but many are culled from others.

Years ago, Husband observed that no matter how great the parenting is, at least one child in a family ends up in therapy years later over what happened in their childhood. So he took the approach that he would purposefully do capricious things so that he would be aware of what was sending our kids into therapy. He has proclaimed “Ruin a Child’s Self Esteem” days before. That always gets a groan at breakfast when it is announced. While I can’t bring myself to that level of self-aware insanity, it looks fun. But I weirdly support it because it lends itself to my program of making sure my kids have the emotional strength to get through life in a comical, non-threatening way.

And this way, I don’t have to leave a bunch of measure by measure notes to my kids, cuz I sure don’t have the patience or interest in that kind of parenting.

And I didn’t really like the book. It was neither funny nor informative for me.

Related posts:

[Anne] The Words We Use Are Powerful
[Anne] Spring Break
[Anne] Husband and I have a Special Way to Torment Our Kids

Self-Milking Cows

So … I had this big long post planned for today? And then Perry posted about science fiction yesterday and Steve Hall had such an awesome comment on it and then I read this article and now?

Now I just want to point out that WE ARE LIVING IN A SCIENCE-FICTION STORY.

For many reasons, but one of the most startling ones for me was finding out that there are machines which feed and milk cows.

Cow walks up. Machine feeds cow. Machine laser-scans the cow’s belly and udder. Machine cleans cow. Machine milks cow. Cow is done feeding and walks off, allowing the next cow in line to get milked.

And this is in no way a theoretical model. This is happening TODAY. On real farms. For profit.

Read the NYTimes Article here.

This completely blew my mind.

Spaceships landing on the moon? Unfazed. Give me a story about self-milking cows and I’m all a-twitter about the possibilities of mankind.

This probably says more about me than about mankind, but I still thought it was wicked cool.

Related posts:

Following Up on Short Stories
[Perry] The Future of Science Fiction
[Perry] Sci Fi Exploring Humanity

[Perry] Sci Fi Exploring Humanity

Do you know what I’ve found?

A lot of science fiction tends to explore the question of what it means to be human.

A lot of stories tackle the issue, to be sure. I know that it’s hardly the the sole dominion of science fiction to deal with the question…but I tend to see it in science fiction more than I do in other genres.

…Of course, that might be because of the genres I tend to read and spend my time with.

In any case, in all of my readings, I’ve never been as profoundly impacted by the question of what it means to be human as I have when I read certain bits of science fiction.

It’s a question that’s echoed throughout the genre.

What I’ve found interesting about it, is that largely speaking, it’s a question that’s explored through the use of external influences.

Things like Asimov and his robots, and the Three Laws of Robotics and all that. By exploring the idea of how a robot can approach being human (a question prominently featured in The Positronic Man), we are taken on a trip that forces us to look at our own deeply held, almost ingrained prejudices when it comes to conferring humanity upon others.

Other writers, like Carl Sagan, approach the issue by looking at how we respond as a species to the knowledge that we are not alone in the universe.

Still others takes a hard look at how we imagine we’ll treat aliens and uses that as a mirror, or a parallel to how we treat ourselves (an idea that John Scalzi takes a hard look at).

Fantasy has dealt with non-human creatures and all as well, don’t get me wrong. But generally speaking, it tends not to have that same philosophical and emotional oomph as a lot of science fiction does.

 

Am I crazy? Am I dead wrong? What is it about science fiction that seems to echo this question?

If anyone out there’s read a book called Vacuum Diagrams, by Stephen Baxter, you’ll know the feeling I’m talking about.

It’s generally not a topic that’s dealt with overtly, but you can feel it all throughout the story. It doesn’t really bring up the question of what it means to be human, but you can feel the echoes of the question nudging against the edges of your mind as you read.

It’s a weird question to ponder, I know. And I’m afraid this post doesn’t really have a point to make.

It’s just a question that I’ve found myself grappling with these past few weeks and I felt like getting it out in the open.

Anyone else have similar experiences regarding broad question that tend to be brought up or handled better in one specific genre than another?

 

Related posts:

[Perry] The Future of Science Fiction
[Perry] The Delicate Art of Fanfiction
[Perry] Magic Systems: Arbitrary Versus Rules

[Anne] Storytellers

Preface from Tami: Anne sent this story to me and mentioned that if I were afraid it might cause friction, I could choose not to post it. I thought about it. The example criticized is the opinion of one person (and the possibly misinterpreted opinion of C.S. Lewis, I do not personally know enough to tell). I do not often post religiously-related articles here as I know I have a widely varying audience for such things and would hate to insult anyone or make them feel attacked. However? In this case I think the fact that it’s a religious opinion doesn’t matter — the overall message of the post is how unbelievable it would be that storytellers have not ALWAYS told detailed and fantastic stories. Also, the folks reading this who are religious tend to be the open-minded sort who (I think) wouldn’t take this as an attack. If I am incorrect, please feel free to email me privately and I shall avoid such topical discussions in the future.

The other day, I was listening to some preacher on the radio.

**I was driving home early Sunday morning through Bakersfield

Listening to gospel music on the coloured radio station

And the preacher said, ‘You know, you always have the Lord by your side’

And I was so pleased to be informed of this, that I ran 20 red lights in His honor

Thank you Jesus, thank you, Lord.**

This preacher was discussing how we could know that the Bible is the true truth.

** I was already letting my cynicism rise. “True truth,” I thought. “Different from the solid truth, unabashed truth, honest truth or Scout’s honor.” **

His whole treatise was derived from C.S. Lewis, who proclaimed that because the Bible has so many details, it is a factual document. Details about how things looked. Details about weather. Details. They proposed that humans did not start putting details into FICTION until centuries later. Did not even consider adding details to fiction. Could not conceive of fiction with details. The preacher gave some actual dates and examples of scripture, but I ignored those details and thought about the premise.

Firstly, I assumed that most fiction during Biblical times was oral. Was I really to assume that storytellers thousands of years ago could not, did not, would not add details to their stories? As if humans were not creative enough until the Dark Ages to think of adding details to their stories.

Or perhaps one would only know the difference between fiction and non-fiction thousands of years ago because of the absence or presence of detail? Maybe this was the only way a storyteller could have their audience understand what genre was being told.

Or maybe adjectives in general were poorly thought of?

I was a bit offended for all the storytellers from centuries ago. I tend to believe that humans have been sharing stories, fiction and non-fiction alike, from the get-go. And some people consider it an art…their art. They put great thought, creativity and energy into making the stories good. Amazing. Entertaining. Whether or not their stories were based on actual events or not, I think the storytellers wanted their stories to be great. Alive. Impactful.

Personally, I found it an unconvincing argument for the true truth of the Bible. I could not agree that the mere presence of details was the clincher for the veracity of the Bible. And I could not agree that details were not part of fiction until late in human history.

I considered taking the time to research the history of literature, specifically fiction, but in the end, I knew that I would end here:

Storytellers are artists. They create. They refine. They amaze. And they describe and use adjectives!

Related posts:

[Anne] Last Week
[Anne] Spring Break
[Anne] The Words We Use Are Powerful

Blog Theme Changes

Pardon the construction dust while I get the new blog theme up and running. =]

I got tired of chasing bugs on the old theme, and I wanted something more flexible from a coding standpoint.

Even while it’s virtually untouched, you can at least read the comments in this one.

Thanks so much for your patience!

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Passwords and Internet Security

With the recent Heartbleed security fail, many sites are recommending that you change your username/password, just in case.

Which is, admittedly, a giant pain.

We all KNOW we shouldn’t use the same password everywhere, but creating a new, unique, strong password for every site you use can be a pretty impossible task.

Strong Passwords

Don’t use dictionary words. Mix capital letters and numbers.

Unfortunately, it turns out that the common misconception of random letters and numbers isn’t all that much safer than your childhood cat’s name.

Don’t believe me? Please check out this XKCD comic.

Uniqueness

The ‘ol correcthorsebatterystaple routine may be nice for one site, but how do you remember passwords for every site you go to?

My proposed solution? Salting.

Take a good, random word combo that isn’t too long. Saaaaaay “batteryhorse”

That’s your salt.

Now, cap and number that sucker. “Batt3ryH0rse”

That’s nice and strong all by itself. Now say you’re making your password for tumblr.

The first three letters of tumblr are “tum”

So your password for Tumblr is Batt3ryH0rseTum.

And your password for Facebook is Batt3ryH0rseFac

Suddenly, you have a strong, unique password for every site you use. And best of all, when you need to change the passwords, you just change the salt. C0rr3ctStapl3Fac.

Weakness

This type of password is very weak to human hacking. If your kid finds out what your salt is, they can log in to any site you use. On the other hand, it’s very strong to computer hacking. Computers aren’t going to be able to get into your gmail because your facebook gets compromised.

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[Perry] Listen to Your Story

Note: The following post/comments may contain spoilers to the finale for How I Met Your Mother

If you don’t know, How I Met Your Mother is a sitcom about a group of friends in New York, their wacky relationship adventures, tied with the framing device of the ‘future’ version of Ted telling his children the long, lengthy (and at times, vaguely disturbing) story of how he met their mother.

The show is rated pretty highly, and is often amusing, sometimes touching, but all in all? Is fairly standard TV fare.

It was interesting enough to keep me going during its 8-9 year run.

Then it ended.

And it ended in a way that sort of invalidated everything the show was trying to do for its entire run.

And in a way, I kind of understand what they did.

The clues lie in the scenes filmed with the children.

Throughout the run of the show, there are various flash forwards to the dad (Ted), talking to his two children as they sit on the couch.

Throughout the entire run of the show? The children don’t age. They don’t mature. They look exactly the same and are wearing the same clothes from the first episode, right to the last one.

This is a clue.

It says that the writers of the show had all of the scenes with the children set up, right from the start.

It says that they had this ending in mind when they started the show.

But here’s why that ending is bullshit.

As a writer, I can respect the fact that you have a plan. That you have a map, and directions that take you from point A to point B. I can respect the fact that you want the story to end a certain way…

But what if the story is screaming at you to do something different?

Every damned turn this story took during its run was screaming out that it should have ended differently.

Barney and Robin finally getting together? That was fine. And more than that, the way they split up after that? Also fine.

Why? Because that’s just life. Life happens, and not everything goes according to plan, no matter how badly you want it to.

What bothered me was how they dealt with Ted’s wife.

Really? Kill her off-screen so that Ted can magically get back with Robin and try again at the end?

Despite 9 seasons of story talking about how he finally managed to let her go?

This is a good example of what happens when you don’t listen to your story, and more evidence of this can be seen in the troubled reactions of many long-time fans when the finale aired.

There are even people who have gone as far as recutting the final few episodes to work around the problem.

While the writers may have started out with this ending in mind, their show was really straining at the bit, trying to push in a direction where Ted and Robin don’t end up together.

An ending where Ted finally learns to let her go…for good. And then finds happiness with someone else, his “the one.”

And instead?

By pushing an ending that the show itself was fighting against, it comes off feeling like we’ve been cheated.

So listen.

When you’re writing, no matter how badly you want a character to turn out a certain way, or no matter how badly you want the story to end a certain way…

If your characters and your story are screaming at you to do something else by the time you start to write that ending? You really owe it to yourself to at least consider the possibility that they know better than you.

Stories are organic things. And, indeed, the best stories are ones that feel like they’ve been grown, that you’re looking through a window into the events of another world instead of forcing the characters to keep their arms and legs inside the vehicle as it trundles down a track.

Listen to your story.

Listen to your characters.

They may surprise you.

 

Related posts:

[Perry] How the Ending Can Ruin the Tone of the Story
[Perry] Music That Tells A Story
My Rough Story Outline Blueprint

[Anne] Last Week

Tami Comment: This probably no longer applies to “last week” as Anne has graciously supplied multiple posts.

Last week, I was working with some fifth graders getting them ready for the state mandated test that is well loved by anyone who has no children and is not at all involved in education. I was reviewing simplifying and comparing fractions. As might be assumed, one of the problems students have with these skills is a lack of knowledge of multiplication facts.

In an attempt to give them a stronghold that will support them during the test, I reminded them of a method for simplifying fractions that does not require them to list all the factors of the numerator and the denominator.

“Because,” I said, “listing all those factors can be tiresome. It is kind of an obnoxious way to simplify. Can I say that? Can I call math obnoxious?”

The students stared blankly and then looked at one another. Finally, the sweetest girl in the whole world said, “Well, we don’t know what obnoxious is, so we don’t know if math is obnoxious.”

“Well, you absolutely know what obnoxious is, as you are in fifth grade. Obnoxious is loud, rude, demanding, thoughtless, boastful, and rather unpleasant. Surely you all can identify someone that is obnoxious.”

They immediately named some people and agreed on who was most obnoxious and then the sweetest girl in the whole world said that obnoxious was a good word. I told them that I was well amazed that they had never heard the word before, as it is not even that obtuse.

My young friend from Wisconsin looked at me slyly and asked, “Are you trying to teach us MORE than math?”

“Nope. Just math. Obtuse is a math term.”

The sweetest girl in the world laughed and said that obtuse was not a good word, but obnoxious was. The whole group agreed.

So I happened to teach fifth graders what obnoxious is, but I am not at all sure if they could remember how to simplify fractions. I tend to believe that this was a wasted day, as I am certain fifth graders do not need to know MORE about being obnoxious. Then again, when do you ever really use fractions in real life??

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On Critiques, And Knowing Yourself, And Hurting Others

Some Laws and a Disclaimer

1) Every writer* wants to share their writing with others.

1a) Every writer wants others to like/enjoy/approve of their writing.

1b) It is not uncommon for this very enjoyment by others to become a motivating force for the writer to continue to write.

1c) Every writer secretly fears that they are wasting their time.

2) Every writer sucks, at least in the beginning and almost certainly continuing far past that point.

2a) The point at which a writer stops sucking is the point where their style appeals to some people.

2b) The point at which a writer stops sucking is ALSO the point where their style does not appeal to other people.

I have, above, detailed some simple and stupid rules for writing. Everyone who reads this blog likely knows that I HUGELY ENDORSE writing through the suckitude, and that I would love for everyone to personally follow their dreams and VERB whatever it is they wish to be a NOUN of. In no way are the above rules intended to dissuade, in any way, from anyone participating in the horrific and glorious journey towards becoming a better writer.

The Truth

That being said.

Because of Rule 1, you will ask your friends to read your writing.

Because of Rule 2, your friends may not actually like your writing.

Your Kind and Good-Hearted Friends

SOME of your friends are going to be accomplished bullshitters, who will be able to grit their teeth and assure you that you do indeed spark rainbows from your fingertips as you tickle the ‘ol keyboard.

Love these poor friends, who value your self-esteem. Pity them, for they will then be subjected to every scrap of writing you produce, and you will thus be crushing their delicate little souls by forcing them to endure something they do not like.

To put it into context, you joined a HEAVY METAL BAND (you’re welcome, Kristen and Anne, for not using Polka there) and your friends listen exclusively to CLASSIC COUNTRY music. Now, they are not only forced to attend every single one of your concerts — they must also attend every band practice and praise you enthusiastically even while their eardrums are bleeding and their souls lay quivering in pathetic puddles around their ankles.

Please do not do this to your friends. It hurts, to have them say they do not like something, but if you’re friends, you care just as much about whether or not THEY are enjoying something as you care about whether or not YOU are enjoying something.

Your Savvy or Strong-stomached Friends

OTHERS among your friends are going to be braver (or have run through this rubbish before, and are therefore wiser). They will tell you what they think.

Your Request

STOP.

This is the point where, you, the writer, need to assess your own feelings.

If you tell your friend “I want a critique, a real one. Tell me what you think. Be BRUTALLY HONEST.”

… and your friend finds flaws? Real ones or imagined ones, things based on personal preference or actual problems with the writing?

It’s going to hurt.

Hurt

You are allowed to exit the room, find a bathroom, and cry. You are allowed to wallow in self-pity (for a short amount of time). You are allowed to do ALL OF THESE THINGS and I will bring you over a pint of ice cream and we will wail about the unfairness of the universe together.

Cruelty

What you are NOT allowed to do is tell that friend that their critique (which you BEGGED THEM TO GIVE YOU) has now so completely crushed your self-esteem such that you will NEVER WRITE AGAIN. *cue dramatic hair wringing while standing alone in the rain, followed by arm flailing and door slamming*

You are hurt. This is understandable, despite the fact that you were in fact hoping for more rainbows in that particular critique.

You are not allowed to transfer that hurt to someone else. you are not allowed to force them to bear your burden — the burden of your entire future and career and self-worth.

No other human being can bear that burden for you. We’re all rather busy holding our OWN psyches dangling by laughably pathetic threads.

It’s not just unfair. It’s cruel. And I do not use that word lightly.

Everyone needs a shoulder from time to time, and although writers need thick skins, I’m not suggesting you earn yours all at once, or attempt to wade through the murky waters of the future all by your lonesome.

I am suggesting that if you have made it to this situation, explain to the other person that you are hurt and that it is NOT their fault, and that you thank them for their honesty and that you really would like a blanket fort and a pint of ice cream right about now.

This reaction is asking someone to share your load instead of accusing them and forcing them to carry the whole damn thing.

The Better Scenario

Preferably? You assessed your self-esteem and told them “I hope you love this. I put a lot of myself into it, and nothing would make me happier than to be able to share it with someone else who loves it. I, however, am not capable of handling negative criticism right now. Please do not sandwich any negative comments between the positive ones. Even so much as a single “this is good, but–” has the chance to send me rocking back into self-doubt.”

And if it is handed back to you with the mildest possible rebuke of, “I’m sorry, but this just wasn’t for me,” then you accept it and do not bother them with writings of that ilk again. You RESPECT THEM.

Myself, Perry, and Zonduth

And if you would, dear readers, before deciding that is a completely spineless and horrible way to go about asking your friends to read your work, please be advised that this is exactly the agreement that Perry and I have about the book I’m writing.

I am fully aware of (many of) its flaws. I cringe at some of the chapters I’ve passed over to him. I will have one helluva revision pass, followed by seven or eight more, before I even hand it off to a Beta reader.

Perry has graciously accepted every noun and verb, and bit his tongue. He has pointed out the things that are GOOD. The things that are fun, the things that make him want to read more.

This is no mean feat, nor am I making light of it. He told me he’d rather me hand over the chapters, no matter how horrible, so that he could read them, and he accepted my caveat — that while I’m writing, I can’t afford to keep looking back over the things I did badly and which need editing.

Instead? I have a word doc full of nothing but encouragement and good things. I know what he likes. What’s working. (and between the lines, several things that are also not working, which is totally acceptable. We’re neither of us idiots)

He offered to read/critique. I knew myself, and I told him what I was capable of handling. As a result, we’re neither of us hurt (well, I won’t speak to his opinion on that score. Some of the new sentence structures I’ve come up with haven’t yet been accepted by respected editors or drunken sailors yet).

TLDR

When you ask someone to critique, ask for the LEVEL of critique you are seeking, and do not punish them when they do as you ask, even if the results are hurtful.

* For simplicity’s sake, let’s just assume:

When I say “every”, I mean “every writer I have ever met, which is not every writer that exists, but which seems to encompass rather a large subset of writers and if you aren’t the sort of writer to whom this applies then you probably don’t care very much what the rest of this blog post has to say.”

When I say “writer”, I mean “producer of thing, be that thing writing, painting, digital art, dance, singing, origami penguins, cosplay, omelettes, or any number of other things that are too numerous to list here.”

There. Isn’t that simpler? Yes. Yes, it is.

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[Perry] Don’t Force Symbolism

A while ago, I listened to the audiobook On Writing, by Stephen King. I’ve touched on a few of his topics in the past, but this is one of the last bits of advice that I’ve gleaned from my listening experience and I want to share it with you today.

It has to do with the topic of theme and symbolism.

English classes may have taught us a lot about the nature of symbolism and themes in literature. We dig into word choices and the timing of certain story elements and draw parallels to the author’s life, the shape of society at the time of writing, and all kinds of other things.

Do you know what I took away from my experience dealing with this subject?

That largely speaking, it was random and an unnecessary distraction. A lot of the time, I would sit there as everyone debated and honestly asked myself how it was that I couldn’t see all of these brilliant insights and socio-political connections, and Freudian imagery that everyone else was bandying about.

I still can’t, not really.

Have you ever read The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe? By C.S Lewis?

I’ve read it a bunch of times as a kid and I enjoyed the movie as a teenager, and you know what?

Not one single time, did I make the connection of Aslan being a Christ figure in the story.

Not. One. Time.

It was only it was pointed out by the professor of my Children’s Literature course in university that I saw it…and I was floored.

King had this to say with regard to the incorporation of themes and symbolism in a story.

His advice was to WRITE the story first, and then read through it. If the themes and symbols jumped out and bit you on the knees, then great. Do what you can to reinforce them as they’ll add power to the story.

However, if they DON’T jump out at you, don’t worry about it and let it go.

One of the worst thing you can do is to try and wrangle your story around to fit the theme and symbols you wanted to express.

Doing that often tends to make the story feel forced…because it is. You’re trying to twist the characters and jerk around the plot to make it fit the message you’re trying to say instead of just telling the story and letting the natural themes and symbolic links rise from the telling.

Some examples of this may include movies such as Matrix Revolutions, and Superman Returns. In both cases, they tried to shove the Christ-figure metaphor for the protagonist’s sacrifice, SO HARD that it felt intensely awkward and really, just killed the movie.

Don’t be that person.

Tell your story. Write your STORY, not necessarily the message you want to leave the reader with.

If you do a good job, that message will arise organically, through the story and the reader will come away with it anyway.

If you force it, the story will suffer for it, and nobody wants that to happen.

This is, of course, advice for story-telling.

If you’re deliberately setting out to push a message, by all means, make it as obvious and forced as possible.

Just know that unless you’re targeting a reader who WANTS to be preached to, the reaction may not be very favorable.

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