Bryce Moore's Blog, page 126

First Book, First Chapter, First Draft

[image error]We’ve been workshopping for the past few days in the fiction writing camp I’ve been running. And since I wanted to set an example for how it would run, I submitted something as well and went first. I didn’t think it would be quite fair (or useful) for me to send something I’m working on now, so I went back in time and submitted something earlier. The first chapter of the first draft of my first novel, written all the way back in . . . 2003? Something like that. So writing from 15 years ago.

And because I like to share with you lovely people, I thought I’d slap it up here today for you to read. Tomorrow, my plan is to put up the final draft of the first chapter, just as a contrast to how things changed over the drafts. Even if no one else thinks that’s interesting . . . I do.

So anyway. Here you go. The first chapter of MAGNIFIA PERIL. (I’ve gotten a smidge better at titles in the intervening years. Not much, but every bit counts . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One

Magnifia

Everything had gone wrong ever since they tried to make me a princess. Don’t go judging me right off the bat, though. One thing I can’t stand is people judging people before they give them a fair chance. If I had become a princess in the normal fashion, I’m sure I would have been perfectly fine with the whole deal. All the girls who became princesses in fairy tales certainly didn’t seem to have that big of a problem with it. You didn’t catch Cinderella complaining about having to leave her fireplace, or Sleeping Beauty whining about being woken up. Snow White seemed quite glad to be saved from eternal death, as a matter of fact, though they never mention if she was happy to leave the dwarves behind or not, so I suppose that particular story is still up for debate. In any case, the bottom line is that regardless of all those other princesses, I got a raw deal. You see, I wasn’t born a princess–my father’s not a king. He’s a librarian–or at least he used to be until he tried to switch career lanes. Of course it had to come right before I entered High School. Fathers never take their daughter’s lives into consideration. That’s probably why Snow White, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty had such an easy time with it–they never had to deal with their dads all that much.

If he could have just stayed a librarian–we would have been fine. He’s always been worried about money, though. Can you imagine that? I mean, if he was so interested in having cash, what in the world did he go and become a librarian for? Maybe if he dealt in expensive rare books or something–do you have any idea what it’s like to have to bring your dad to “bring your dad to school day” and tell everyone that he’s a librarian? Johnny Esterfield’s dad was on a Cops episode–as a police officer, not a criminal, although I admit that with Johnny you can’t be too sure. Rebecca McFarland’s dad sued Burger King for millions. My dad can research the mating habits of the blue whale, but I hardly think that’s going to get him any serious money. Who knew that that stupid ad in the paper would turn out to be for real?

It hadn’t worked before–dad had tried all of the get rich quick schemes. There was that one where he could have made thousands of dollars a month–if he could lick enough envelopes, that is. He tried it though–he’s a librarian, not a mathematician, I guess. Then there was the other deal that had him recruit people to recruit other people to recruit–you get the picture. The whole thing practically screamed pyramid scheme, but did dad pay any attention? No way. There was nothing that he wouldn’t give a fair shot to. It all comes from the librarian in him–he believes anything he reads.

So when he read the ad that said “Wanted: One King to Rule Over Magnifia. Salary Negotiable. Some Experience Required,” he was scrambling for a pen and paper to write down the address quicker than you can blink. Naturally they didn’t have a phone number–those kind of ads never do, and when they have one, then it can’t be traced. It’s true. Rebecca McFarland told me so, and if her dad’s a lawyer, then she should know. You don’t win millions by being an idiot. So anyway, I tried to tell my dad that he’d better be watching out for some kind of scheme, and I tried to remind him about all those other times in the past that we’ve gotten packed, but he just kept feeding me the “fair shot” line until I gave up. In a few years, I’d have my own job and I’d be out of that house. He wouldn’t have to worry about me, and I could take a break from worrying about him for a while.

I have never been a believer in my dad’s ideas, so when I came home from school the next day, I was stunned to find a package lying on the kitchen counter. I’m the first person home every day. Dad is usually at the library until six or seven. He loses track of time pretty easily when he’s reading or researching, and since that covers pretty much all of his time at work, I usually don’t even worry about him until nine or ten. There was one time when he didn’t come home until past midnight, and I was pretty steamed with him. He’s the kind of guy who has to be kept in check–remind him to eat dinner, breakfast–that kind of thing. Not that I care about him that much or anything. I mean, if he didn’t keep those paychecks coming, I’d probably starve.

So Dad was pretty much out of my afternoon picture, and Jacob never got home until four thirty or five, assuming he wasn’t off playing DnD with his loser friends. He really had the life. He got to start school later than me, he never had any homework–at least none that he’d admit to–and he always had his nose in one of those fantasy books. Not that he was a goth or anything. He wasn’t antisocial, what with all his friends and all. I just wished he’d pick up a sport. All that dice rolling probably helped his forearms, but his skin could have used a bit of sun. It was bad enough having a librarian for a dad–having a geek for a brother was really too much. Of course, he was always telling me that I talked like a drunken dwarf–whatever that means–but what does a twelve year old know about, anyway?

With my family situation in mind, you can probably tell why I was so surprised to see a package on the table when I got home. No one would have been there to pick it up earlier. I thought at first that Jacob had skipped school or was sick, but my calls upstairs went unanswered as I put down my bags. So I took a little closer look at the package. It had no postage, was hand written, and smelled kind of funny. Sort of like one of those packages they tell you to watch out for because it probably has a bomb in it or something.

Carefully I picked it up and took it outside–away from anything flammable. Knowing my dad, he would just see the thing and tear it open. Cleaning up the mess afterwards wouldn’t be pretty. Not that I’m a neat freak or anything–I just like to keep things tidy. I went back inside and grabbed a pair of scissors. Have you ever tried opening a mail bomb before? It’s not something that comes up every day, but if you ever get the chance, you should do it. The feeling you get, not knowing if the next minute your hand is going to disappear or you’re going to black out or what. Looking back on it, I guess I should have waited for Jacob to open it. He’d probably know more about bombs, what with all the internet surfing he does. Plus, he’s expendable. I mean, if anything happened to me, no one would have a clue about what to do. At least I could call 9-1-1 for my Dad or Jacob. And I would know how to clean up afterwards. I guess it was really selfish of me to open that thing, not that it ended up mattering.

I cut along the end opposite the normal opening, away from any potential wires. The paper was pretty thick, and it took some effort to get the thing fully opened. When I did, I was a little disappointed to see that there were no wires or explosives or anything. Mail bombs are rather flattering, when you think of it, assuming that they’re not sent to you by some psycho in a hut. I mean, someone has to really dislike you to want to blow you up. It takes a lot to inspire that kind of emotion. Of course, this one was sent to us by a mail order response, and so it most likely fell under the “psycho in a hut” department, but it still would have been fun to tell my friends at school about.

In any case, instead of plastic explosives, the package had a travel brochure. That’s the best I can do to explain it. It looked like a travel brochure from some two-bit country–the kind of travel brochure Arkansas would send out, or maybe Kansas. “Come see the home of Dorothy”–that kind of line. Except this one was all about this place called Magnifia, and it was all hand drawn. At least that’s what it looked like, but it was probably just some snazzy laser printer or something like that. Magnifia–I thought it must have been one of those tiny European countries–they’re always changing their names. Yugoslavia, Bosnia, Inertia–it even fit in with the typical pattern. It was all written by hand in a script kind of like that old German style–the one where the s’s look like f’s, and the letters have all this extra curly stuff. The pictures even looked like they were hand painted. Watercolors showing rolling countryside and this massive castle with banner fluttering lightly in the breeze. I swear the thing almost made me want to write a poem, not that I’ve done anything that stupid since I went to middle school. Poetry was just a phase I went through in grade school–kind of like Barbies. The whole thing was probably done by a fancy laser printer, but it still made quite a first impression, and those carry a lot of weight with me.

The content of the brochure sounded pretty impressive. It sounded way too good to be true, and so I figured it probably was. Too good to be true, that is. I have a copy here, so I’ll just put it in so that you can judge for yourself.

Kindest Sir,

Greetings and salutations from the Subcommittee of Rites and Successions of the Committee of Rules and Regulations. With utmost gratitude we thank you for your interest in taking up the role of Monarch of Magnifia. We realize that this would involve much change on your part, and we hope that through this message, we may convey to you the many advantages and opportunities this land has to offer you.

First of all, may we reassure you that the death of our past Monarch was in no way suspicious. He did not die of poisoning or hexing, and there is nothing to any rumors you might have heard of an invading dragon. Such lies are preposterous, and are the fruits of vicious, narrow minds. King Frazzahr died quite simply of a nasty fall down the stairs. We do have plenty of stairs here at Castle Ellegahrt, and so the chances of this happening are much greater than they would be in your land. Have no fear, a committee has been appointed to look into ways we may avoid this unfortunate tragedy in the future, and we trust that an answer is forthcoming within the next few years.

Perhaps you would like to know a bit more about our country. We are not large in relation to the lands around us, but we have very good relations to all, and have had no involvement in disputes since the War of the Brothers in the year 2931. Our primary exports are centered around agriculture, though we have our fair share of lumber, as well. You need not concern yourself with the management of such affairs, as we have numerous committees overseeing practically ever area of government. You may of course make changes to these committees upon your appointment as king, though these changes must naturally first be authorized by the Committee of Change and Progress. But we digress.

There are far too many details for us to cover is such a brief correspondence as this, and so we invite you to bring your family for a week’s stay. Enclosed you will find a key. Please take this key to the nearest elevator. One in a building with more than five floors, if at all possible. Simply insert the key into any sort of a keyhole you see–usually we are told they have some for janitorial use, at the very least–and press the button for the top floor. We will have someone meet you upon your arrival.

Do not worry about sending word of your anticipated arrival time. Just bring enough clothes to last you for a week. We are currently in the summer months, so plan to dress accordingly. We look forward to your arrival.

SORSCORR Head Secretary

Charles Pluddersnop

Now, what would you have thought from that? I had to say one thing–it read like it was written by a committee–like those letters you always get to take home to your parents about this and that school rule change. The more people you have thinking something up, the less fun and original the end product is likely to be. Still, it did nothing to make me think that this wasn’t some kind of scam job. Travel by elevator. Elevator. Like the one you find in hotels or malls or something. Who did these people think they were–Willy Wonka? Besides, it’s not like we lived in the city, where there were five story buildings on every block. The closest one was the Holiday Inn, and that was like thirty minutes away. I had one guess about what would happen. My dad would file us all into the elevator, we would go to the top floor, the door would open, and a bunch of masked men with guns would rob us blind. Besides, the whole letter sounded like it was straight out of one of my brother’s fantasy games. It had the kind of crazy made up facts that only a man holed up with his computer for days on end could think up. The key idea was original, though. I took it out of the package to get a better look at it. Gold plated, skeleton style. The odds of it fitting into anything remotely resembling an elevator keyhole were slim to none. It looked very hand made, but I guessed that was just keeping in line with the whole theme of the brochure. How wrong I was.

When my dad came home, he was a mixture of emotions. I swear it was like I had opened up his Christmas presents early. I have to confess that I started the argument, but it was a matter of necessities. Never let parents get the upper hand in a discussion. They start trying to pull rank on you, and that kind of behavior can’t be allowed to take root.

“Did you see this?” My dad never notices anything unless it’s shoved under his nose, which was what I was doing with the package right then.

“See what? Oh–a package! Who’s it from?” That’s another thing about my dad–very poor short term memory, though I have to admit, his long term memory is killer. You can’t pull the wool over his eyes for too long, because sooner or later he remembers what you’ve been doing, and they you’re in for it.

“Who do you think, dad? That whole Magnifia deal you wrote to yesterday.”

“Magnifica? I don’t recall writing to–”

“Dad! It was just another one of your newspaper ad things. I’m throwing it away.” Original key idea or not, if I could get rid of this before my Dad read it, we would all be better off. Once he read something, it became as real as anything to him.

“Throw it away? Why would you do that? It’s my package.” He can be fast when he wants to, and he had that package out of my hands before I could blink. He turned it right side up to tear it open. That’s when everything else fell out the other side where I had carefully cut it earlier in the day. Poor memory or no, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to notice someone tampered with your mail. Dad didn’t take it all that well.

I knew that I had to say something fast, or else I was going to be in big trouble, regardless of my selfless tendencies only hours before. “Dad, let’s not get all worked up about this thing. I mean, do you realize the ridiculocity of this situation?” If there’s one thing my Dad couldn’t stand, it’s grammar mistakes. One misused or made up word, and he would start lecturing you on usage. I swear–he was worse than Mrs. Fossile, my English teacher.

“Ridiculocity isn’t a word, Susie–you really need to watch your usage.” I thought I had him, but then he continued. “I can’t believe you’d go so far as to open my mail! If your mother were still alive–” Yada yada yada. For brevity’s sake, I think I’ll just leave it at that. You don’t want to hear all about how he got mad at me, or about how he threatened to ground me. It really wasn’t fair. After all, I was the one who risked my life for the sake of the family, and yet he didn’t even blink at the mention of “mail bomb.” He ignored the suspicious circumstances of the package’s arrival, and he didn’t find the key in any way threatening or odd. Sure, he said it was very “singular,” but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try it out as soon as he could. If anything, it meant he was all the more likely to go through with it. “Singular” is one of my Dad’s favorite words, and he only uses it when he gets really excited about something.

I still had an outside hope that Jacob would come through for me on this one occasion. He can be a real dweeb, but every now and then he surprised me. This wasn’t one of those times. He only “aggravated the situation,” as Mr. Yates, the school principal, would have said. He thought the brochure was “super cool,” and started debating with my Dad whether it was hand drawn or laser-printed. That’s just like them–the entire family is faced with the impending doom of a move and financial ruin, and all they care about is how the stupid brochure was made. I was still steamed at my Dad for ignoring my warnings, so I have to admit that I lost it at that point. To this day I still can’t quite remember what I said, except that I said what I really thought. In my case, that can be a tactical error. It’s not that I don’t respect my Dad. He’s a great librarian, and he’d be perfect if he just kept to books. The real world has a way of intruding in on his ideals, though, and he doesn’t like to have to face them. So when I told him what I thought of Magnifia and the idea of going to the Holiday Inn to get robbed, he started throwing words around like “grounded for life” and “ungrateful little.” Of course, I suppose I might have used some combinations like those myself–“shortsighted bookworm” bumps around in my memory for some reason, though I’m sure that I wasn’t that cold hearted.

I finally tried to just give him the whole ultimatum routine. In the movies, that always worked. Julia Roberts would give the guy the “my way or the highway” routine, and within moments he’d be doing whatever she said. Well, the movies never showed fifteen year olds trying it, because it didn’t work. I lived in America, the supposed land of the free, and yet I was told every waking moment by adults what I could or could not do. They told me what to read, what movies I could see, what I should wear, what I should think. And to top it all off, they told me where I had to go for a week with my family. To the Holiday Inn to get mugged. I knew that I was going to be the first girl ever to keep a mugging appointment.

When my rage started to subside–somewhere in the middle of my tantrum–I realized that this discussion was going nowhere, so I ran away. For some reason Hollywood presents running away as cowardly, and I guess it might be in war or duels or stuff like that, but in an argument–if you’re a girl–it can really be a great tool. “The best offense is a good defense.” That’s what the coach is always telling the football team while I’m at cheerleading practice, and what kind of defense could be better than running away? There’s no chance of you getting hurt that way. In an argument, all you have to do is leak a few tears and dash off to your room, and the male who just barely was ready to wring your neck is suddenly all hugs and concerns. It doesn’t always get you what you originally wanted, but it does seem to take care of some of those “grounded for life” phrases–at least it did with my Dad.

In my room I tried to regroup. Things couldn’t possibly be all that bad. Even if I had to go and get mugged, I didn’t have to bring any of my nice clothes or anything. Those robbers would be stuck with some blue light specials–no Banana Republic for them. Not that I had any BR–I was lucky to have what Gap clothes I did. But it was the principles that counted. On the bright side, my Dad might even learn a lesson from the mugging. It never even entered into my mind that any of that letter could actually be true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like what you’ve read? Please consider supporting me on Patreon. Thanks to all my Patrons who support me! It only takes a minute or two, and then it’s automatic from there on out. I’ve been posting my book ICHABOD in installments, as well as chapters from UTOPIA. Check it out.

If you’d rather not sign up for Patreon, you can also support the site by clicking the MEMORY THIEF Amazon link on the right of the page. That will take you to Amazon, where you can buy my books or anything else. During that visit, a portion of your purchase will go to me. It won’t cost you anything extra.

Book Review: Fuzzy Nation

Fuzzy Nation by John Scalzi

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I’m a big fan of John Scalzi’s writing style. Let’s get that out of the way right off. He has an easy narrative voice that I enjoy reading, and it’s easy to breeze through just about anything he writes. So even if it were a lame book, I’m saying I’d be more inclined to have a great time reading a Scalzi book than another on the same topic.

But Fuzzy Nation is far from a lame book. A snarky surveyor with dreams of striking it rich finds the Mother Lode on a far off distant planet. Things look seriously up for a good few days, until a motley group of alien cat monkey things show up in his house and exhibit alarming signs of possible sentience. Could the Mother Lode belong to them? Yes, if they’re sentient and count as people. No, if they’re just smart animals, like trained Spaniels.

The book tackles a number of very weighty topics, and it does so with a breeze and finesse that hard to find these days. It’s not often you get a great plot that also makes you reanalyze larger implications of life in general. It’s a book that makes you think, even while you’re having a great time.

But Scalzi doesn’t shrink back from having terrible things happen to his characters, no matter how much we might like them. It’s the George RR Martin principle. I’m not saying everyone you ever loved in this book will die, but I am saying anything’s on the table, and those sort of stakes really up the ante for me.

I blazed through this book in a few days, and I gave it an easy 10/10. A bit of language here and there, but other than that, just a smashingly good read. If you like science fiction at all, you should check this one out. If you like cats and/or dogs, check it out too.

If you like cat monkeys, then I assume you stopped reading this review a few paragraphs ago and are already deep in the narrative.

View all my reviews

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like what you’ve read? Please consider supporting me on Patreon. Thanks to all my Patrons who support me! It only takes a minute or two, and then it’s automatic from there on out. I’ve been posting my book ICHABOD in installments, as well as chapters from UTOPIA. Check it out.

If you’d rather not sign up for Patreon, you can also support the site by clicking the MEMORY THIEF Amazon link on the right of the page. That will take you to Amazon, where you can buy my books or anything else. During that visit, a portion of your purchase will go to me. It won’t cost you anything extra.

Longfellow Writing Camp and a Reading Tonight

[image error]As I blogged a few months ago, I’m the fiction instructor at this week’s Longfellow Writing Camp. I finished my second day of instruction today, and it’s been a real blast so far. Class sizes are around 10 students, all of them high school aged. I’ve been impressed with how dedicated they are to improving and learning. They’ve been a talkative group.

I’ve had each group for three hours, and I’ll say that trying to get through an overview of fiction in three hours is . . . daunting. There’s a ton of material to cover, and I feel like I’m doing it with a fire hose. Part of me feels like it might be better just to focus on a couple of principles. Another part wants me to just blurt out all the stuff I can think of on the hope that different pieces of it will stick with different people, depending on what they need.

Either way, it seems like they’ve been having a good time so far. A ton of them really want to write fantasy, so I’ve had plenty to say about that. The trick has been keeping things broad enough for a larger audience. Next class period, we’ll be workshopping most of the time, so it should be a different approach then, that will be more tailored to each student. Should be fun.

And tonight, I’ll be doing a public reading as part of the camp. I’ve been thinking about what I want to read, and after talking to my students today, I think I’ll go with the first chapter of UTOPIA, most likely. They were all much more interested in hearing something they couldn’t hear anywhere else than they were with having me read something they could buy. Fair enough.

Though I do wonder how the writing will play out, narrated. The voice in that piece is so . . . unique. There’s a chance I chicken out and just do chapter one of MURDER CASTLE, instead.

We shall see.

In any case, if you’re in the area tonight at 7pm and want to come by the Emery Arts Center, please do!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like what you’ve read? Please consider supporting me on Patreon. Thanks to all my Patrons who support me! It only takes a minute or two, and then it’s automatic from there on out. I’ve been posting my book ICHABOD in installments, as well as chapters from UTOPIA. Check it out.

If you’d rather not sign up for Patreon, you can also support the site by clicking the MEMORY THIEF Amazon link on the right of the page. That will take you to Amazon, where you can buy my books or anything else. During that visit, a portion of your purchase will go to me. It won’t cost you anything extra.

Lightning (Hopefully) Only Strikes Once

[image error]I was away in Newport on Sunday, attending a different congregation, and I got a text from Denisa.

“We came home from church, and half the power is out.”

That’s a first for me. I’ve had all the power out plenty of time, but some of the outlets were working, the rest weren’t, and the appliances were all making strange buzzing noises. Not a good thing. She reset the breakers, but that didn’t do anything, so she called the neighbors to see if something had happened.

Apparently while we were all at church, lightning had stuck someplace close by. Like, “sparks coming out of the outlets” close by. It played havoc with all of our electronics. Killed a window fan. The electric company came over and got the street patched up, and most things are working again now. My theory is it hit a telephone wire or something, though, since it totally blew out our modem and our phone, which weren’t on surge protectors.

We’ve called our ISP, and they’re sending a new modem. I’m hoping the wiring itself is okay. We were without internet yesterday and today and at least through tomorrow. The kids . . . they are restless. You don’t want to get between a 5 year old and her Netflix addiction.

Speaking from personal experience.

Of course, I figured that was the extent of it, but when I came over to the library today, the same storm had knocked out the electrical system over here, leaving us without AC. It’s not sweltering outside, but it’s still stuffier in here than I’d like.

First world problems.

Glad our house is more or less okay, and everything should be back to normal soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like what you’ve read? Please consider supporting me on Patreon. Thanks to all my Patrons who support me! It only takes a minute or two, and then it’s automatic from there on out. I’ve been posting my book ICHABOD in installments, as well as chapters from UTOPIA. Check it out.

If you’d rather not sign up for Patreon, you can also support the site by clicking the MEMORY THIEF Amazon link on the right of the page. That will take you to Amazon, where you can buy my books or anything else. During that visit, a portion of your purchase will go to me. It won’t cost you anything extra.

One Bed to Rule Them All

[image error]Denisa and I have been married over 17 years now. And so we finally decided it was time for the two of us to have some more space between each other. Hmm. That didn’t come out right. How about . . . “We decided to find alternate sleeping arrangements?”

Nope. Still not great.

We bought a king-size bed. When you’re talking about sleeping, I guess the direct approach is best.

The main impetus behind the bigger bed was that Denisa wasn’t crazy about the new bed we got after the one we’d used for 10 years had reached its end. So we had a new bed, but that one only lasted a four years or so before we got a different one, which has also not been super. Denisa’s back has been hurting when she slept on it, to the point that some nights she’d just go find a different bed to sleep in.

Not ideal.

So when we saw a beautiful king-size sleigh bed go up for sale, we bought it, sans mattress. The plan was to buy a mattress later. But buying a mattress is a bewildering experience these days, or at least it can be. When we first got married, it was more streamlined. You went to a department store, you lay down on a bunch of mattresses, and then you paid a bunch of money ($1,000+ at least) for a good mattress. Because you should pay a lot for a mattress, seeing as how you spend so much time sleeping.

This time, I’d heard a lot of good things about foam mattresses you buy online. Denisa wanted one that was more environmentally friendly. After a fair bit of research, we settled on the Tuft and Needle mattress. It has a ton ton ton of good reviews, and all the sites I saw said it was really solid. Better yet, many of the people I spoke to about mattresses said they’d bought that one.

But we didn’t buy a king size mattress for our king size bed. No no no. We decided to buy two XL twins, because they fit the frame just as well, and because this way, when one of us moves at night, there’s no chance at all of it shifting the whole bed. The best thing? It was only $750 total. (Yes, this is still $50 more than just one king size mattress, but whatever. It’s still a ton less than the fancy pants beds we’d bought before.) We had gotten old twin size box springs, and these mattresses don’t even need box springs if you don’t have them anyway. Score.

It’s one thing to have a plan and another to actually put it into play. What if we got the mattresses and hated them? (Tuft and Needle has a 100 night guarantee. If you don’t like it, they donate your mattress to a local shelter and give you a full refund. Very nice.)

Well, they arrived. And after taking down the queen size mattress and box spring, disassembling the old bed, taking it to the garage, bringing up the new frame, assembling it, bring up the box springs, and putting out the new mattresses . . .

I’m happy to say we both love the new bed. Super comfortable. Better than any foam bed I’ve slept in before. Feels plenty firm (we’d worried it would be too soft). Really, no complaints at all.

Though a king size bed is huge. It’s like we’re sleeping in two different hemispheres, really.

Anyway, if you’re in the market for a new bed and want a great sleeping experience and don’t want to pay a lot of money, definitely check out the Tuft and Needle. Highly recommended.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like what you’ve read? Please consider supporting me on Patreon. Thanks to all my Patrons who support me! It only takes a minute or two, and then it’s automatic from there on out. I’ve been posting my book ICHABOD in installments, as well as chapters from UTOPIA. Check it out.

If you’d rather not sign up for Patreon, you can also support the site by clicking the MEMORY THIEF Amazon link on the right of the page. That will take you to Amazon, where you can buy my books or anything else. During that visit, a portion of your purchase will go to me. It won’t cost you anything extra.

On Proficiency Based Education

[image error]I first really heard about Proficiency Based Education (PBE) the exact wrong way: by finding out my school was transitioning into it, and that it would be coming right away. That’s definitely on me. I know I must have read about the process in the past, but I just hadn’t paid any attention to it. There didn’t seem to be anything that I really needed to worry about, so I ignored it.

Perhaps you’re in the same boat I was. You see “Proficiency Based Education,” and you wonder what in the world it might mean. Allow me to explain.

In a nutshell, PBE moves students away from the traditional grading system (A, B, C, D, F, on a 1-100 point scale) and over to a 1-4 scale that’s based entirely around a student’s ability to show mastery of a subject. The school comes up with a number of different academic areas within each subject and in order to pass the class (get a 2.5 or higher), the student must demonstrate the ability to do that skill.

So imagine one subject area was “can tie their own shoes.” It’s pretty simple. Either the student can or the student can’t. For our district, a student would be rated on shoe tying as follows:

1: Can’t tie their own shoes at all.

2: Can tie their shoes if the teacher helps them.

3: Can tie their shoes by themselves.

4: Can tie other knots, not just shoe knots.

On the surface, there’s a lot about this system to like. The idea that each student can show mastery of individual subject areas is appealing. Each test covers a range of areas. A student might score a 2 on one part and a 3.5 on another part. Instead of having to retake the entire test, the student could just focus in on the part they were having trouble with. In the classic design, a student on that test might have gotten an 80%, but if you looked more closely, they had one area mastered to more like a 95% level, and another was just like a 70% level.

So in that manner, it’s more granular. Students can get a better idea of what they’re doing well in and what they still need help with. That’s a good thing.

The trouble arises in the application of this new grading system. A few years ago, the state of Maine mandated that all schools switch to PBE models by this coming January. It became law. And so our school began the process. Last year was the first year that the transition was completely made for Freshmen. Tomas encountered it then because he was taking Honors Algebra II at the high school, a year ahead of the rest of his 8th grade classes.

The transition was far from smooth. First of all, the messaging that went out to students was confusing. (At least, it was confusing by the time it reached me. I found out much of it at first through Tomas, until about halfway through the year, when I finally started going to meetings on my own to try and make sense of it. I think I missed out on the early meetings because they were aimed at parents of 9th graders, and I was the parent of an 8th grader. Or maybe I just spaced it. It might have been on me.)

Students were told again and again that “a 3 is a great grade.” The takeaway Tomas had from it was to shoot for a 3, and if he managed to get a 4 on something, great. But no big deal if he didn’t. As a parent used to traditional GPAs, a 3 meant a B, and I had a hard time with the concept that we’d all be shooting for B-level work. But Tomas repeated his “3 is a great grade” line often enough, that I began to believe it.

Until I went to meetings and discovered 4s were supposed to be attainable, and to get high honors, a student would need a 3.75 average or higher. Getting a 3.75 average means you’re getting 4s and 3.5s.

Then I started worrying what this would look like for college admissions boards. I was reassured that college admissions boards deal with PBE scales all the time, and it’s no big deal. Which makes sense on the surface. But it’s not the surface that matters here. It’s the underpinnings.

Because the actual application of this grading system has left a lot of parents and students scratching their heads. I get that some parents just blow off the question entirely, saying parents who worry about what college their kid will get into so early on are just being overly intrusive into their kids’ lives. Harvard or University of Maine? Big deal. Well, I suppose I’m guilty as charged.

I’m a BYU graduate. I love my alma mater, and I’d really like my kids to be able to go there. But getting into BYU isn’t a gimme. Yes, it’s got a 65.1% acceptance rate, which seems not too bad compared to Princeton’s 6.4% acceptance rate. But Princeton admitted 1,990 students last year, and 1,314 of them attended, a yield of 66%. BYU admitted 6,520, and 5,246 of those attended. A yield of 80.5%. What does that mean? It means that students who apply to BYU really want to go there. Badly. There’s a fair bit of self-selection that happens when students apply (or don’t apply) to BYU. It’s probably a topic for a different blog post, but suffice it to say getting in isn’t a cakewalk.

Which is to say grades mean something. Good grades mean something. And even setting aside my personal stake in the game, good grades mean something to our district. A district that produces students capable of going to top name schools is a district that attracts parents who want their children going to those same schools. This doesn’t mean we should have all our teachers grade easy, but it does mean we should be sure we’re grading accurately.

And that’s where my biggest frustration with PBE comes in so far. The difference between a 1, 2, and 3 is clear and distinct. It makes sense. But how exactly a student gets a 4 is much murkier than I’d like. I’ve since learned that each teacher is supposed to be very clear about how students can get 4s. What goes into it. And so this coming year I’m going to push to find that out as soon as I can, so that I can help Tomas succeed.

Because this isn’t about me. It’s about him. He wants to succeed. He wants to get into BYU as well.

This is all coming to a head because the state legislature just changed its mind about the PBE requirements. Suddenly, going to PBE isn’t mandatory anymore. And so the question arises: should our district stick with PBE or go back to the old way of grading? There are many teachers in the district that want to stick with it, because they feel it’s a better way of grading. There are some who would rather go back to the old way, because they felt it was fine.

Having read some of the back and forth around it all, I know there’s a whole bunch of parents who are very frustrated with PBE. They feel it doesn’t bring enough to the table to warrant the unrest. I personally lean that direction as well. I feel like PBE has potential, yes, but getting to that Promised Land will come with a price: we’re experimenting with a class or two or three of students, where teachers are learning the ropes at the same time as the students.

The result of this will be that we have some years of graduates who might suffer when it comes to college entrances. I don’t see any other way to put it. Teachers haven’t entirely figured out what makes a 3 vs a 4, and how to teach in a way that everyone can reach their full potential. That’s a problem.

Is it a problem that means we need to do away with PBE? I’m not sure. But I do believe we need to do something right away to fix this gap and make sure our best and brightest students aren’t harmed in the process. That might mean changing the messaging. That might mean developing clear communication channels for parents who are confused. That might mean having sit downs with parents and teachers to make sure everyone understands what’s what.

But I’ve heard of some teachers being very resistant to giving out 4s, and others giving them out more easily. That’s the exact sort of thing PBE was supposed to move away from, was it not? So if we go through all of this sound and fury and end up with another system that isn’t really that much different than where we started, it will have done nothing but harm.

I don’t want that. I don’t think anyone does. I’ve heard reassurances from the district that won’t happen, but the proof is in the pudding.

I suppose in the end I’m willing to give PBE another year. But if we do, I think the district should have very clear procedures in place to measure whether or not its working. Compare the grades of students pre-PBE with the grades post-PBE. Have they improved significantly? Are students, teachers, and parents happy with the results? I’d rather the district be surveying those groups and going forward based on facts and figures, not promises and hopes.

Because it isn’t the law anymore. So the question shouldn’t be “How do we implement PBE as best as possible,” but rather “What’s the best system for our students?”

Yes, we’ve already invested heavily into PBE. So what? It’s a sunk cost. We should ignore the time and effort already spent and make a decision based purely on what’s best for us now. Pretend all that money and time hadn’t been spent. Is PBE still the right choice?

And move onward from there.

Here’s hoping the journey only gets smoother . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like what you’ve read? Please consider supporting me on Patreon. Thanks to all my Patrons who support me! It only takes a minute or two, and then it’s automatic from there on out. I’ve been posting my book ICHABOD in installments, as well as chapters from UTOPIA. Check it out.

If you’d rather not sign up for Patreon, you can also support the site by clicking the MEMORY THIEF Amazon link on the right of the page. That will take you to Amazon, where you can buy my books or anything else. During that visit, a portion of your purchase will go to me. It won’t cost you anything extra.

A Simple Canoe Trip

[image error]Tomas is off today on a “simple” canoe trip. Heading off in Northern Maine for a three night/four day adventure with the other young men in our church. They’ll be traveling about 40 miles, from what I’m told. He left at 6:30 this morning and won’t be back until Saturday.

I don’t think I ever did a single campout trip with a youth group growing up. I went away to summer camp quite a few years, but in terms of your standard “bunch of boys going camping,” that never happened. Tomas has now done a few of them, and I’m happy for him to have the opportunity.

It’s funny. When he was younger and I thought about camping trips, my initial plan had been that I would go with him on all of them. I thought it would be important that I could be there to supervise and make sure everything was okay. But as he grew older and I thought about it more, I changed my way of thinking. It became more important to me that he begin to learn to operate on his own. Independence was a bigger goal than supervision, and if it came at the cost of some mild stupidity on the side, then that was a price worth paying.

The ultimate goal of any parent, I believe, is to raise your kids to the point where they can leave your house and become fully functional adults who can live and be happy and successful without your help. Getting to that point can be difficult and painful, but it’s important to always keep that goal in mind.

So when Tomas was about ready to head off this morning, I gave him the following advice: “Don’t do anything stupid.”

That didn’t feel like quite enough, however. So I decided to define “stupid” for him. “And when I say stupid, I mean if you’re about to do anything, and you think to yourself, “This isn’t the best idea I’ve ever had, and this could really go wrong,” then don’t do that. That’s the stupid thing I’m telling you not to do.”

I almost did a really stupid thing that fits that definition perfectly in college. I lived in DT, and our floor was having a bit of a feud with the floor of a building right across from us. They were posting insults to us in our windows. We were posting insults back.

Stupid.

So we tried to figure out a way to really get even with them. The idea, in the end, was to take paint balls and a slingshot and plaster the outside of their windows with paint. A friend had the paintballs. Another friend figured out how to open our permanently locked  windows, and I had the slingshot.

The night came. We had everything set. I had the paintballs locked and loaded in my slingshot, and I was all set to rain fluorescent fury down on those windows. And then I stopped, looking at the situation. This seems like a really bad idea, and something I could get in a fair bit of trouble for, I thought to myself.

But all my friends were there, egging me on. Encouraging me to go through with it. A fair bit of pressure.

Which I stood up to. I shook my head in the end. “This is a bad idea,” I said. “Let’s not do it.”

See? I can actually make reasonable decisions, every now and then.

Here’s hoping Tomas can do the same . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like what you’ve read? Please consider supporting me on Patreon. Thanks to all my Patrons who support me! It only takes a minute or two, and then it’s automatic from there on out. I’ve been posting my book ICHABOD in installments, as well as chapters from UTOPIA. Check it out.

If you’d rather not sign up for Patreon, you can also support the site by clicking the MEMORY THIEF Amazon link on the right of the page. That will take you to Amazon, where you can buy my books or anything else. During that visit, a portion of your purchase will go to me. It won’t cost you anything extra.

Fort Kenting the Day Away

[image error]I’m up in Fort Kent at a library meeting for the day. For you non-Mainers, Fort Kent is way up at the very top of Maine. It took four and a half hours to drive here yesterday. I’m actually staying at a hotel that sits at the very end of Route 1. If I were to get out and start driving on this road, I could keep going until I hit Key West, Florida.

Having driven four and a half hours yesterday, I think I’ll pass. I have to drive back home tonight, after all.

Anyway. Just wanted to pop on here to say it’s beautiful up in Northern Maine. It’s easy to forget there’s the whole top half of Maine. Not a lot of people live up here. The bulk of the population is in Portland and its surroundings. Once you hit Bangor, it feels like you’ve already gone pretty far. But then you drive. And drive. And drive.

Other states have rolling fields and farmland. There are sections up here like that. Potato fields. But the stretch I drove yesterday (Route 11) was almost all trees. And trees. And trees. Not a whole lot of people at all. On the plus side, that meant hardly any traffic. I did stop by a rest stop for a break. No one was there, and I ended up thinking, “This is how horror movies start out. With the main character pulling into an abandoned rest stop and then ending up in some torture chamber in the remote woods.”

I got back in my car, locked the doors, and kept driving. Though I must note no one has tried to abduct me since my arrival in Fort Kent.

Sunday Talking: Getting, Giving, and Keeping a Testimony

[image error]It’s been a while since I was asked to speak in church. That was corrected yesterday, when I spoke for 20 minutes to the Bangor congregation. As usual, here are my remarks from the day. I was given this talk by President Thomas S Monson to use for the basis.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In his final general conference remarks, President Monson noted “We live in a time of great trouble and wickedness. A strong testimony of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and of His gospel will help see us through to safety.”

What does a testimony look like? I think sometimes we like to add trappings to the things we say and do, hoping perhaps to impress people with our scintillating thoughts and observations. But at its core, a testimony doesn’t need to be anything deep or profound. It’s a statement of our beliefs, with perhaps an explanation of why we believe them.

Nothing brings this home faster than when you lose your ability to add all the trimmings and flourishes you might be used to using when bearing your testimony. If you ask any missionary who’s been forced to preach in a new language, I almost guarantee they’ll talk of how much they relied on their core testimony for at least the first few months. Simple heartfelt statements can mean so much more than fancy multisyllabic observations on everyday life.

Then again, I used to dread testimony meeting on my mission. Not because I was worried about getting up to bear my own, but because I never knew what I could expect for my investigators. True story. One Sunday in Leipzig, Germany I had an investigator finally show up for a church service and, naturally, it was Testimony meeting. He spoke only English, and I translated the meeting for him as it unfolded. One member got up and spoke for literally fifteen minutes about his trip to Greece, with hardly any mention of the Gospel or his beliefs to be found anywhere. Early on in my mission, that might have left me in despair. But I’d been out for almost a year at that point, and I’d learned a thing or two. When you’re the one providing the translation, you have a fair bit of leeway in how you interpret what’s spoken. Let’s just say that while the member went into great detail about Grecian ruins and beaches, somehow in the translation process he ended up talking about Joseph Smith’s first vision and the other basics of the first discussion.

So let’s talk about testimonies. I think there are three basic questions to ask around the subject. How do you get one? How do you give one? And how do you keep one? If any of us can master those three elements, we should be set for whatever troubles lie ahead.

I’ve heard people make a big deal out of knowing things instead of just believing them. I can understand why they want to make the distinction. In the Book of Mormon, the prophet Alma describes how faith can mature over time, starting as nothing more than the desire to believe and ultimately culminating in a perfect knowledge. I can’t speak for everyone. Perhaps there are many people out there who truly have reached that perfect knowledge of all things stage. But personally, I have a long way to go before I’m even in the same zip code as a perfect knowledge. I’m kind of grateful for that, actually. Once you’ve got a perfect knowledge of things, there’s a whole lot more you’re responsible for.

As I’ve watched my children over the years, I’ve seen them always want the same thing: to be grown up. I wanted the same thing when I was younger. Grownups got to do all the fun things. They got to stay up late, drive cars, watch whatever they wanted on television, and eat as much dessert as they felt like. What wasn’t to like? My grandparents had a cabin in the mountains of Utah, and the extended family would go up there for all the holidays. In the basement of the cabin was an object that was the central envy of all the kids. The bumper pool table. An eight sided octagon that could provide hours of entertainment. The catch? You had to be twelve years old to use it.

I wanted to be twelve so badly, but actually becoming twelve takes years of hard work and effort.

In the same manner, I would love to have a perfect knowledge of the Gospel. To understand it so well that it all made sense. To never have my faith shaken. But the path Alma describes takes years for most people to navigate. Likely more than their lifetime.

It would be easier, perhaps, to just tell people “I know” the Gospel is true, but for me, it wouldn’t be accurate. I believe it, and I make sure to keep that distinction in mind. Why?

I read an article this week in LDS Living on how you can navigate a crisis of faith. Not because I was going through one personally at the moment, but I have in the past, and I’ve seen friends and family struggle with the same. I’m always up for getting extra advice ahead of time when and where I can. The article starts off as follows:

“For many people who undergo a faith crisis of profound propor­tions, their whole world comes crashing down because that world had been built on the truthfulness of the Church and the structure that the Church provided in their lives. Given that they spent years testifying, “I know the Church is true,” and given that they now no longer believe that declaration, they call into question everything they ever knew.”

Having faith is often a struggle, mainly because there seem to be so many different things that can crop up to test that faith. You know what else I struggle with? Brownies. If you’ve heard me speak before, you’ll know that brownies and I get along far too well. Add a bit of ice cream and a gratuitous banana or two, and I can’t seem to resist them.

Actually, I have a problem with sugar in general. A year or two ago, I came to a startling realization. I was addicted to sugar. This seemed like a ridiculous concept at first. Addicts were people who compulsively consumed their weakness, continually going back to it, even to their own detriment. They were people who couldn’t physically stop their actions. Sure, I had sugar now and then, but addicted?

Then I thought of how often I ate sugar. An ice cream sundae every night. Snickers bars for snacks throughout the day. Baked goods as often as I could get them. (A definite perk to working in the library field.) And the continual trouble I had with my weight. Could it all come down to sugar?

The nail in the coffin for me was how much I rejected the idea of giving up sugar the moment I had the thought. Not because I thought it was a bad idea, but because I thought it would be very, very hard. In the end, I didn’t like the thought that I was so hooked on anything, so I made the commitment to go without sugar for six weeks. It was difficult. I was cranky, particularly for the first two weeks, but in the end, I got through it.

These days I have reintroduced sugar into my diet, but I swear off it from time to time, just to keep that addiction in check. One thing I’ve learned about myself in the process, however. I am very good at following rules I set for myself, right up until I break the first one.

No sugar? I can do it. As long as I defend the fortifications around that commitment, I can stay true to my decision. But the moment I ease off? When I decide to sneak a few chocolate chips? It’s as if I let the enemy right through my barricades. Next thing you know, I’m back to eating brownies by the mouthful.

I believe this principle extends beyond sugar and brownies. I’ve seen it at work in testimonies as well. We build our fortifications around seemingly random lines. “I know” can be a fortification for some. They cling to that knowledge, insisting its existence, even when it might get wobbly. But because the fortifications are focused around that “knowledge vs. belief” point, if the knowledge gets too shaky, suddenly there’s a breach, and the enemy can do some real damage.

So I’m not one to pile sandbags around things that aren’t a certainty for me. Again, maybe it’s different for you. I can only speak for myself. One spot where I have many years of fortifications built up is in the same concepts discussed by Alma earlier in that chapter.

28 Now, we will compare the word unto a aseed. Now, if ye give place, that a bseed may be planted in your cheart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your dunbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to eenlighten my funderstanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.

29 Now behold, would not this increase your faith? I say unto you, Yea; nevertheless it hath not grown up to a perfect knowledge.

30 But behold, as the seed swelleth, and sprouteth, and beginneth to grow, then you must needs say that the seed is good; for behold it swelleth, and sprouteth, and beginneth to grow. And now, behold, will not this strengthen your faith? Yea, it will strengthen your faith: for ye will say I know that this is a good seed; for behold it sprouteth and beginneth to grow.

31 And now, behold, are ye sure that this is a good seed? I say unto you, Yea; for every seed bringeth forth unto its own alikeness.

32 Therefore, if a seed groweth it is good, but if it groweth not, behold it is not good, therefore it is cast away.

33 And now, behold, because ye have tried the experiment, and planted the seed, and it swelleth and sprouteth, and beginneth to grow, ye must needs know that the seed is good.

34 And now, behold, is your aknowledge bperfect? Yea, your knowledge is perfect in that thing, and your cfaith is dormant; and this because you know, for ye know that the word hath swelled your souls, and ye also know that it hath sprouted up, that your understanding doth begin to be enlightened, and your dmind doth begin to expand.

I know the gospel is good. I know its teachings have brought me happiness as I have followed them. There are parts of the gospel I don’t understand. Reasons for actions that don’t make sense to me. I have built my fortifications accordingly. I acknowledge those gaps, but my testimony does not rest on their explanation.

So how do you give a testimony? Is there a right way or a wrong way? Is it just sort of a monthly open mic in the chapel? Over my years as a member, I’ve seen any number of testimonies given. I’ve seen some that have been incredibly flowery and complex. I’ve seen some that have been nothing more than a few sentences. I’ve seen people bring props up. I’ve seen people come to the stand to simply ask if someone in the ward might mow their lawn. I’ve seen people stand to thank their family for something in particular. I’ve seen people come up to call the rest of the ward to repentance for perceived slights.

In other words, yes. There is a right and a wrong way to bear a testimony. It’s not an open invitation to address the ward or get the word out about an issue close to your heart. It’s not the chance to give the talk you wish the Bishopric would assign you. It’s an opportunity to publically share what you believe and why.

First, let me say that if you only get up and say what you believe, that’s fine. For many, speaking in public can be frightening, and holding onto an idea once you’re staring out at a hundred other faces can be almost impossible. Sharing what you believe publically strengthens your belief. But I do think most testimonies that only list off beliefs are a missed opportunity for both the bearer and the audience.

One of my friends from high school decided to attend a Mormon service one Sunday. I’d invited her to come and find out for herself what it was like, but I hadn’t counted on her going by herself. I’d wanted to accompany her and explain what was happening.

As luck would have it, she went on the first Sunday in a month, and so she attended a Fast and Testimony meeting. In the end, she left confused and unimpressed. She told me that once the singing and Sacrament were over, she’d heard from one of the men up front, who talked about what he believed and why. That part was interesting to her. But from there, she said it was a series of people getting up to talk about what was happening in their lives. They expressed thanks for their families and their jobs. They’d tell long stories that didn’t really seem to connect with anything having to do with religion. Almost all of them would get around to listing off the things they believed, but they would leave it at that.

I’m not trying to say these testimonies were misguided or inappropriate. I wasn’t there, after all, so it would be impossible for me to offer an opinion. But I do know that for my friend, an outsider to the religion, they were missing an essential piece. Why. Why did all those people believe what they did? What experiences had they been through that led them to those beliefs?

I believe the Book of Mormon is true. That statement is a testimony in its most basic form. Me saying it might do something for me, but it’s less likely to do something for people hearing it, because they can’t connect with it. But it also is quite close to just simply stating an opinion. It would be like me saying I believe Batman is the best superhero of all time. Hey–you could even add in the word “know” in that statement. I know Batman is the best superhero of all time. If I dropped that sentence in the middle of a conversation with some of my fellow comic book nerds, they would demand an explanation, no matter how self-evident I might think the statement to be.

I’m an academic librarian by trade, and I teach many students how to find information and incorporate that information into a research paper. Often when I’m introducing the topic to freshmen, I’ll compare a research paper to building a house. You can build a house out of whatever you want. The three little pigs proved that well enough. When you do research, you collate materials you want to build with. It’s up to you which you choose. You can just use the first materials you happen to come across that more or less fit the bill of what you need, or you can take time examining those materials, selecting just the right ones to ensure the final structure is as sound as possible.

In the end, you write a research paper to present your ideas and arguments to others. If you’ve done your job right, then you make a compelling case. You’re believable.

Sooner or later, we will all come into contact with people who will doubt what we believe. In my experience, we’ll also come into contact with events and thoughts that will make us doubt our beliefs. In those times of trouble, it is not enough to simply state “I believe the church is true.” Knowing why we believe what we believe is even more important.

As President Monson noted, “It is essential for you to have your own testimony in these difficult times, for the testimonies of others will carry you only so far. However, once obtained, a testimony needs to be kept vital and alive through continued obedience to the commandments of God and through daily prayer and scripture study.”

We receive a testimony by putting the Gospel into action. Someone could come to me right now and try to argue the church’s teachings have harmed me. Such an argument would be easy for me to dismiss. I know they have helped me, because I have countless firsthand experiences with the blessings the Gospel has brought me. I’ve had discussions with friends about the power of prayer, and whether it can be effective or not. Again, this is an area where I feel I can say I know prayer works. I’ve done it so often and received answers and support in response that it’s no longer in question.

I’ve discussed how we get and share a testimony. So how do we keep one?

I believe the Book of Mormon is true. I’m frankly too skeptical by nature to be willing to upgrade that to a certain “know” still, even after almost forty years of experience with it. That said, our testimonies don’t have to answer every objection that might arise. In a General Conference address in 1975, President Ezra Taft Benson, then the President of the Quorum of the Twelve, noted, “We are not obligated to answer every objection. Every man eventually is backed up to the wall of faith, and there he must make his stand. “And if they are not the words of Christ, judge ye,” said Nephi, “for Christ will show unto you, with power and great glory, that they are his words, at the last day; and you and I shall stand face to face before his bar; and ye shall know that I have been commanded of him to write these things.” (2 Ne. 33:11.) Every man must judge for himself, knowing God will hold him accountable.”

Sooner or later, it is true that the reason all of us believe is because we have made a choice. We have placed our trust in feelings, which is something many in the world view with skepticism today. This is something that has never quite made sense to me, however. There are many different things in the world where we must rely on feelings, love being the first and foremost.

When I was dating, I chose who to date not by listing off a series of facts. I chose by feelings. When I asked Denisa to marry me, it wasn’t because it made logical sense. In fact, up until then, I’d been terrified of marriage. My parents had divorced when I was young, and that left a lasting impression on me. I had always said I wanted to know a girl for at least a year before I even thought about proposing. And then I wanted a long engagement.

Don’t tell my kids, please, but I proposed to Denisa less than two months after our first date. We eloped to the Manti Temple less than four months later.

None of that would have made sense to the part of me that demands logic and sound reasoning. But it’s been the single best decision I’ve ever made, and I’ll happily defend it to anyone who might try to argue the point. But I don’t think anyone would. Isn’t that curious? Society is fine when we follow our feelings in love, but when we extend that guidance to other areas of our life, our motivations may come under fire.

A testimony is something that develops over time, typically. It’s an accumulation of experiences. Answers to prayers. Reading scriptures. Receiving guidances from the Holy Ghost. Discovering over time what happens when you obey the commandments and what happens when you don’t.

In the twentieth chapter of Matthew, Jesus gives the parable of the Workers in the Vineyard:

1 For the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that is an householder, which went out early in the morning to hire labourers into his vineyard.

2 And when he had agreed with the labourers for a penny a day, he sent them into his vineyard.

3 And he went out about the third hour, and saw others standing idle in the marketplace,

4 And said unto them; Go ye also into the vineyard, and whatsoever is right I will give you. And they went their way.

5 Again he went out about the sixth and ninth hour, and did likewise.

6 And about the eleventh hour he went out, and found others standing idle, and saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle?

7 They say unto him, Because no man hath hired us. He saith unto them, Go ye also into the vineyard; and whatsoever is right, that shall ye receive.

8 So when even was come, the lord of the vineyard saith unto his steward, Call the labourers, and give them their hire, beginning from the last unto the first.

9 And when they came that were hired about the eleventh hour, they received every man a penny.

10 But when the first came, they supposed that they should have received more; and they likewise received every man a penny.

11 And when they had received it, they murmured against the goodman of the house,

12 Saying, These last have wrought but one hour, and thou hast made them equal unto us, which have borne the burden and heat of the day.

13 But he answered one of them, and said, Friend, I do thee no wrong: didst not thou agree with me for a penny?

14 Take that thine is, and go thy way: I will give unto this last, even as unto thee.

15 Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil, because I am good?

16 So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but few chosen.

It’s a parable that has stumped me for a while, because it’s never made a whole lot of sense to me. I’ve read various talks and explanations by apostles and prophets, but I could never quite get over the unjust feeling of it all. Some of the laborers had gone the whole day, working for twelve hours, and they were paid the exact same as the ones who had just worked one? Where are labor laws when you need them?

But this week, in the middle of a spiritual thought during one of the meetings I attend, something occurred to me. This parable only seems unjust if you assume the laboring is like any other job. Something difficult and to be endured, so that at the end of the day you can get a reward. But Christ was describing the kingdom of heaven and what membership in that kingdom is like.

Remember, God’s plan for us is a plan of happiness. The Gospel is here to help us deal with the struggles of life and be happier. In the parable, it occurred to me that the ones who labored the entire day had been blessed by being in the kingdom that entire time. They had its guidance and reassurance. Its support and assistance. The ones who came in at the eleventh hour had to struggle the entire day without that same help.

The labor isn’t the hard stuff you have to endure in the Gospel. The labor is the reward. The laws and ordinances bless us, even while they may feel burdensome from time to time. We don’t endure to the end so that once this life is over, we can all go and do the things we wish we could have done the whole time we were living. It’s not like at the end of all this, we get to kick back with a glass of wine and a nice cigar while we do nothing but eat chocolate pudding and binge watch Netflix for the rest of eternity.

We’ll continue doing the things the Gospel teaches us here. Raising families. Keeping the Commandments. Preaching the Gospel. Bringing to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.

Remember my three questions? How do you get, give, and keep a testimony? Two of them have the same answer. You get and keep a lasting testimony by actively living the Gospel. It’s the only way I know how. You give a testimony by telling other people your beliefs, ideally explaining the reason you have those beliefs. The experiences you’ve gone through that led you to them.

I pray all of us can keep our testimonies if we have them, get one if we don’t, and share them with others when we do. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One Sheet to Rule Them All

[image error]I know a lot of people have a lot of different ways of keeping their lives organized. There are day planners. Calendars. Sticky notes. You name it. There are tons of apps and programs that are designed to help you get the things done you have to do. People ask me how I stay on top of everything and get so much done. Some of it is because I have a hyper-scheduled work week. I get up at the same time, eat the same food at the same times, and do the same chores at the same times. (Not that my whole day is like that, but the structure is in place, which helps me then focus on all the other things that need particular attention.)

But the biggest tool I use has got to be spreadsheets. Google Sheets is the flavor of the day, but Excel works just as well. I like Sheets because it’s all on the cloud, and I can access it on my phone or computer or iPad. Anywhere I need to.

I have one master sheet. The sheet that contains my life. All the jotted down notes of things I need to remember, arranged in columns and rows. There are multiple tabs, each tab with a different purpose. Let me go over some of them with you. My master sheet currently has:

Media, where I keep track of all the books, tv shows, and movies I read or watch, as well as keep notes for what rating I gave them. This keeps me on track for reaching my reading goal of a book a week.
Games, where I keep track of all the games I play, particularly Magic the Gathering drafts. Because I’m a geek.
European Travel, where I have my notes for my upcoming trip to Europe. Where we can visit, what dates we’re where, price estimates, etc.
Budget, where I have all my notes about financial-related things.
Credit cards, where all my credit card churning notes go. (I just checked the other day. I’ve made 400,000 rewards points on Chase since I started this, and 260,000 Marriott points. This is going really well, and I’m very glad I did it.
Expenses, where I enter my expenses and mileage for author and church-related travel and business. Because April 15th is always around the corner.
Frequent Flyer Information, so I can keep track of what number to enter in when I fly somewhere
Cube Planning, where I have notes about Magic cards I want for my cube. Because I’m a geek
Master List, which is my main sheet. It has notes for everything. My To Do list, story ideas, shopping lists for home renovation, novel plot outlines, etc. It’s scattered, but I know where it all resides and how to find what I want.
Drafting Results, where I keep track of the records of my Magic the Gathering Drafting Club. Because I’m a geek.
Fantasy Baseball Tabs, where I have notes for my Fantasy Baseball league, because geeks also like sports.

At the end of each year, I create a new Google Sheet, basing it off the last year’s template. And on and on it goes. The document is living, so I’ll regularly delete things on a sheet that I no longer need, or write over them or edit them. When I come up with a blog post idea? It goes on the sheet. When I remember something I have to do? On the sheet. My phone is always with me, and I often add notes in the middle of meetings, walking to work, during breakfast, etc. And then I take a look at what needs doing when I have time, and I churn through the list.

On days when I’m particularly stressed, I’ll transfer the list to paper. I feel much more accomplished when I can scribble out a To Do item, rather than just deleting it digitally. Go figure.

Anyway. That’s what I do. What’s your approach? I’m always interested to hear new ideas. Happy Friday!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like what you’ve read? Please consider supporting me on Patreon. Thanks to all my Patrons who support me! It only takes a minute or two, and then it’s automatic from there on out. I’ve been posting my book ICHABOD in installments, as well as chapters from UTOPIA. Check it out.

If you’d rather not sign up for Patreon, you can also support the site by clicking the MEMORY THIEF Amazon link on the right of the page. That will take you to Amazon, where you can buy my books or anything else. During that visit, a portion of your purchase will go to me. It won’t cost you anything extra.