Currently Reading

So I've stopped with my Girly Book and for the past week I was looking for a new book. Saturday I took a trip to the bookstore and ended up purchasing The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald. I'd read this book once when I was about ten years old and I remembered enjoying it.


George MacDonald

I'm something of a bibliophile. The smell of yellow pulp pages is better than a perfume to me. My favorite sorts of books are those with illustrations. (I'm going to do a post on that someday.) This edition of The Princess and the Goblin had very lovely illustrations.



I fished it the same day I bought it. It is truly a beautiful piece of fiction. Here's just a sampling of his lovely prose:

The princess was a sweet little creature, and at the time my story begins was about eight years old, I think, but she got older very fast. Her face was fair and pretty, with eyes like two bits of night sky, each with a star dissolved in the blue. Those eyes you would have thought must have known they came from there, so often were they turned up in that direction.

After finishing The Princess and the Goblin I remembered that I owned another book by George MacDonald, At the Back of the North Wind.



In the first chapter, I found this gem of a description:

What was the most strange was that away from her head streamed out her black hair in every direction, so that the darkness in the hay-loft looked as if it were made of her, hair but as Diamond gazed at her in speechless amazement, mingled with confidence -- for the boy was entranced with her mighty beauty -- her hair began to gather itself out of the darkness, and fell down all about her again, till her face looked out of the midst of it like a moon out of a cloud.

George MacDonald himself, is a very interesting figure. He was a pastor for many years and many of his stories were written to instruct children in the scriptures and teach them Christian truths. However his stories never read as contrived moral parables and are always true to themseleves.

He was a great influence on C.S. Lewis, and in The Great Divorce Lewis went so far as to include him as a main character. Lewis wrote the following about MacDonald:

I know hardly any other writer who seems to be closer, or more continually close, to the Spirit of Christ Himself. Hence his Christ-like union of tenderness and severity. Nowhere else outside the New Testament have I found terror and comfort so intertwined. . . . In making this collection I was discharging a debt of justice. I have never concealed the fact that I regarded him as my master; indeed I fancy I have never written a book in which I did not quote from him.

One notable theme in MacDonald's stories is powerful, wise women. In The Princess and the Goblin the princess Irene is guided and delivered from danger by her Great-Great Grandmother, who, though very old, is also vividly described as possessing agless beauty and seems to possess great supernatural powers. In At the Back of the North Wind the North Wind (described in the quote above) is female and also powerful and beautiful. At the very least, MacDonald seemed to have a very high opinion of women.

As for me, I'm extremely excited to have discovered such a wonderful author and brother in Christ to inspire me. It's one thing to purchase a pretty book, it's another to find a true author. It's like making a friend.

As the thoughts move in the mind of a man, so move the worlds of men and women in the mind of God...the offspring of his imagination. Man is but a thought of God.

~ George MacDonald

Weekend update

Me and the fam' went to the zoo this weekend. It was a lot of fun.

Jack is a huge Steve Irwin fan (we haven't broke the sad news to him) and he really wanted to see the crocodiles. So after him asking for almost an hour, I finally checked the map. I was hoping to see something like "Crocodile Pit" but no luck. I had break it to Jack that all the crocodiles went home. The last thing we visited was the reptile house, which is always like walking into a guided tour of my phobias. But towards the end I heard Jack's excited voice (if you know him, you know what I'm talking about) proclaiming that they did have crocodiles! Sure enough, he was right. There, behind a glass case, sat the creature, pit and all. Jack happily reminded me many times afterwards that all the crocodiles did not go home. I'm going to remember that for a long time.

Being a parent is a lot like having Stockholm Syndrome. Today was hot and I had to leg it around a park, chasing after tiny individuals who have the same outlook on life as Marie Antoinette. These people continue to devour my time and money and mostly treat me like I'm their butler. And yet, I've never loved anything like I love those wicked little kids.

I look at Jack and somewhere along the line he stopped being a toddler and now he's a boy. And before that he stopped being a baby. I want him to always go to the zoo with me and look for crocodiles no matter how hot it is, or how tired I am, or how much I actually hate reptiles. I love my captors. Stockholm Syndrome.


More zoo photos

Something I wrote:

When she woke, Lilith’s skull felt like it had been cracked with a hammer. She attempted to rise than fell back to the grass with a groan. She could banish the pain with a spell and she searched her rusty memory for the one that would do the job. Finally she muttered a string of words and, after a moment, rose to her feet. But everything was still wrong. The spell would not change that.

Critique musings

I submitted my first chapter to the OWW recently. It's gotten three reviews so far. They're in the moderate to lukewarm range. I've got some good pointers though. Most of the weak areas I'm already aware of but I still need the reminders.

The latest review kind of threw me for a curve. It pegged me as writing a High Fantasy, which I've never wanted to write. My book is set in the future after a nuclear war. But I guess it gives the impression that it's a high fantasy. This doesn't bode well.

It used to really crush me when people picked apart my writing. Honestly, I still don't like it but it doesn't bring me down. The problem with critique groups is that the quality of the advice is decidedly mixed. Most everyone is relating second-hand advice that they've read from actual authors who may or may not be good authors themselves. I remember that I used to always point out point-of-view inconsistencies when critiquing, just because I'd read on some internet article that they were bad. I still think they're bad but good authors are always shifting point-of-views. Just an example.

There's also some great writers lurking around the boards too who have helped me immensely with their advice. Like I said, it's a mixed bag.

Anyway...

I liked this from tonight's writing:

Penelope suddenly felt tired and dull. She hadn’t understood much of what the pale man had said - or had she? Was the mass grave in New Camelot nothing more than the result of a whimsical decision by some unknown personality in the wastes? On the road to Silverwater she had assumed that if she ever met the pale man he would give her reasons that satisfied as much as they hurt. But now she suspected that the reason would never satisfy. She wanted to lay down in the grass and never move again.

It's monday and how do you like your humble pie?

I play in a softball league every Monday. Tonight I struck out. It's a sickening feeling, swinging that bat and hitting nothing but air. Yeach.

Speaking of humble pie, I've noticed that one thing common to my characters is that they're all flawed. Lilith is an out-of-practice witch, grumpy, and bad with directions. Penelope is self-centered and not quite a knockout in the looks department.

They've all got good qualities too but I like that they're flawed. I've been reading a book where there's one character that is just perfect. She's clearly the author's ideal person in every respect. And you know what? I really don't like her. For me to love a character I need to be with them when they blow it, when they're tired and grumpy. Then I'll be excited when they finally get things right. I understand that some characters must be more noble than others but at least make them dress funky or have an ugly mole, or something. Throw me a frickin' bone here!

Something that I wrote, that I liked:

“Magic’s nice, you know,” he said, his voice soft. “I could’ve brought an army to New Camelot. I could’ve made the streets run with the blood of every man, woman and child - all that gory stuff. But magic-” He snapped his fingers and suddenly a red rose appeared in his palm. Penelope had never seen a color so exquisite, every velvety petal seemed to be a jewel; but it was already fading; indeed now it was quite wilted. She watched as the rose crumbled to fine dust in seconds. With a puff he blew the dust from his palm into the wind. “Magic is so elegant. So clean. I spoke and everyone in New Camelot slept. No blood, no screaming, no pain. You should thank me for that!”

One reason I'm smiling

Only kids raised in the 90s will get this. I'm grinning ear-to-ear right now, listening to the first new Smashing Pumpkins song in over seven years. It seriously rocks.

It's interesting to think back to where I was when I bought my last Pumpkins album. I remember the exact place and time. I was sixteen years old, driving down to San Francisco for the first time ever with my own driver's license. (If anyone has ever driven in San Francisco, you'll know why I was nervous.) My dad was riding with me. On the way down we stopped in Sacramento at Dimple Records and I bought Machina/The Machines of God by The Smashing Pumpkins. I listened to it the rest of the way down to the bay, but not too loud, cause I didn't want to bug my Dad. I've lightened up a little since then.

I was driving down to San Franscisco to check out a multimedia trade school that I wanted to attend. (Back in the day, you didn't say "Web Design", you said "Multimedia".) The reason I had to attend this school was because I was planning to marry my girlfriend and I knew that a wife would lead to kids, kids would lead to bills, and bills would lead to more bills - therefore I needed a hot job. One that didn't require a four-year degree (did I mention that I really wanted to get married?). With The Smashing Pumpkins on the stero, driving over the bay bridge, a man in control of my own destinty, a bro going places, I felt pretty cool.

Two months before I was going to move down to SF and officially enroll, the school closed down. The move to SF never happened. I know more about myself know and I'm very glad that it all fell apart. I think it would've really freaked me out living in a big city. I have an extremely low tolerence for city noise and concrete.

Seven years later.


Me and the love of my life.


My boy. The oldest of the litter.


My little girl, AKA: hot competition for the love my life.


The newest and best-behaved Nunnink.

So I did marry my girlfriend. And marriage has led to kids. I can't claim wild success. As a matter of fact, I've learned how unimpressive I am as a person. But I've also learned quite a bit about life, love, Jesus, and all that important stuff. And now the Smashing Pumpkins just put out another song. A lot has happened in these seven years.

Back in the saddle

Last week was amazingly unproductive writing-wise. Just yesterday I fired up the ol' laptop and started writing for the first time in over seven days. The worst part is that I have no good excuse except that I was tired and distracted.

But I'm back now. I can only leave these characters for so long.

Prayer for today

Here's a puritan prayer that I found. It's quite beautiful to a person with myriad heart corruptions like me.

Heart Corruptions
O God, may Thy Spirit speak in me that I may speak to thee. I have no merit, let the merit of Jesus stand for me. I am undeserving, but I look to Thy tender mercy. I am full of infirmities, wants, sin; Thou art full of grace.

I confess my sin, my frequent sin, my wilful sin; all my powers of body and soul are defiled: a fountain of pollution is deep within my nature. There are chambers of foul images within my being; I have gone from one odious room to another, walked in a no-man's-land of dangerous imaginations, pried into the secrets of my fallen nature.

I am utterly ashamed that I am what I am in myself; I have no green shoot in me nor fruit, but thorns and thistles; I am a fading leaf that the wind drives away; I live bare and barren as a winter tree, unprofitable, fit to be hewn down and burnt. Lord, dost Thou have mercy on me?

Thou hast struck a heavy blow at my pride, at the false god of self, and I lie in pieces before Thee. But Thou hast given me another master and lord, Thy Son, Jesus, and now my heart is turned towards holiness, my life speeds as an arrow from a bow towards complete obedience to Thee. Help me in all my doings to put down sin and to humble pride. Save me from the love of the world and the pride of life, from everything that is natural to fallen man, and let Christ's nature be seen in me day by day. Grant me grace to bear Thy will without repining, and delight to be not only chiselled, squared, or fashioned, but separated from the old rock where I have been embedded so long, and lifted from the quarry to the upper air, where I may be built in Christ for ever.

Encouraging story...

About three or four years ago I swapped OWW crits with a very nice writer named Sandra McDonald. I don't even remember what work I'd submitted to be critted but I do remember that she had some very insightful criticism. I also remember that her work had a great feel to it and that her dialogue was extremely witty. I still remember a few lines from the peice I read.

Flash forward to this week, I was browsing the OWW Hall of Fame and I noticed a line annoucing that Sandra McDonald's first novel, The Outback Stars was being released by Tor this week. Wow!

Sure enough:



It's a great cover too.

To see a person who's persisted for many years finally break the publishing barrier - well... I find that extremely encouraging.

Congratulations, Sandra! I'll be looking for The Outback Stars the next time I'm in Borders.

I'm reading a girly book

Want to see the cover of the book I'm reading right now? You sure?

Okay...



Just leave me in my shame...

Oh, and have a great weekend!

Write what you know - it's a good idea

I recently cracked open my first attempts at writing a book. Of course, they were horrible - but one thing stands out above the poor writing: they were wrong. Specifically about being a parent.

My first story focused on a father-daughter relationship. Ohhh boy! What a romanticised view I used to have. Flash forward five years: I recently observed to my wife, "Our house has been captured by insane, violent midgets. How did we let this happen?" And somehow it's mysteriously wonderful. Emphasis on mysteriously. But it's very different than my writing anticipated. Any real parent who read my book would've had to visit the opthamologist from all the eye rolling.

Now my story is again drifting towards parent-child relationships. This time, I know a little bit more about the subject. The romance is gone, my friend but I think this story is much truer than my first.

Bottom line, write what you know.

Another example: I recently wrote a scene where the character freaked out! Yeah! Everyone loves a freak out! One problem... I've never freaked out! Yeah! *Ahem*

It's true. A couple of years ago I was crumbling under the stress of my job, I'd lay awake late into the night, fearing death, disease, aging, etc. I was in the midst of a spiritual crisis. I thought I was having a nervous breakdown. I was one burned-out cookie. Worst year of my life. And you know what? No one knew. Not even my wife. How could I hide something like this over the period of almost a year? I never freaked out. There's always been something in my mind that prevents me from running around, shouting and tearing things apart like Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life. ("You keep playing that song, over and over - now STOP IT!")

So my freakout scene was wrong. Just wrong. I was guessing at how someone gets to that point but I really don't know. I don't know the mental steps from calm to screaming. (And for one, I hope I don't find out.) I know how to be grumpy, snippy, annoyed, annoying, tootie-fruity but not screamy.

So I rewrote the scene. It's emotional but - you know - people don't loose it.

Bottom line, write what you know.