Difficult Descriptions

Okay, it's make or break time. I'm at that point in my book, where if I don't write this part right, it will be the difference between a best selling hardcover, and an unpublished file on my laptop.

It's the introduction of a key playing character, whose name I am yet to discover. None seems perfect for this seemingly perfect person. It will be because of him that change is instigated in Evelyn's life. It will be because of him that things get better and things get worse. It will be because of him that she will eventually find peace.

And so, because of this, his entrance into her life needs to be perfectly described. His face, his voice, the way he dresses, the way he holds himself, the way he speaks, the way he treats her... it must hold the audience captive to his every move- wanting, yearning, desiring to hear more about this man.

So far, I don't think I've done him justice. The way I've written him to be, yes he is intriguing, but certainly not captivating. 

The cruciality of one character. I've never been stumped by such a description. It's like trying to put words to the beauty found in something like this mushroom I saw in the Dandenong Ranges in Melbourne:

Oh the things that take my breath away,

That leave me speechless-

Unable to find the words that capture

The essence of the beauty I witness

They are Your creations

And they cannot be boxed.

Try as I might, words are not enough-

Beautiful, wonderful, glorious… just not enough.

I Have A Responsibility

Although I have wanted to write for a very long time, doing so was a means for my own pleasure, and hope that others could learn and be entertained by my writings. It was not until this week that it occurred to me that I have far greater a responsibility than that. As a social communicator, I play a role in shaping the community at large, or at least having an effect on a portion of it. Every word I write. Every letter. Every number. Every punctuation point. It all has a ripple effect on the people who read it. The neurons firing in my brain causing thought processes, leave me through my writing, and then attach themselves to others (the readers), causing more explosions, contained in their brains... and from those people, they pass it on to the next, and the next, and the next...

Our existence is not in and of itself. Everything we do- and don't do- has a consequence, whether good or bad, or neutral. And because my love is of writing, and writing is rarely kept to oneself, it is inevitable that I will have an effect on other people. I already have- whether I like it or not!

Now when I decide to write that status on facebook, upload a new blog post, or add another sentence to that novel... I must tread carefully. For every word that I write has the opportunity to build up or bring down society. For with everything there is a chain reaction.

I must not write purely for "aesthetic considerations", or even to write in an aesthetically pleasing way. His Holiness, Pope Benedict XVI agrees, "too often, the beauty that is thrust upon us is illusory and deceitful, superficial and blinding, leaving the onlooker dazed; instead of bringing him out of himself and opening him up to horizons of true freedom as it draws him aloft, it imprisons him within himself and further enslaves him, depriving him of hope and joy" (www.zenit.org/article-27632?1=english 2010).

I must write for something more than that- to "make the moral climate of society more wholesome!" To counteract all the immoral social communication out there! And I am not alone in this responsibility. Artists, writers, social communicators, God is calling you to more!

Oh the Catholic Church is so smart!!!

"Artists, writers and all in whose hands are the means of social communication should use their skills in ways that are in keeping with their Christian faith and with a clear awareness of the great power that is theirs to exercise over men. They should bear in mind that 'all must accept the absolute primacy of the objective moral order' and that it is wrong to give priority to what are known as aesthetic considerations, to material advantage or success. Whether it be question of art or literature, entertainment or communication, each person in his or her province must be circumspect, prudent and moderate and must display sound judgement. In this way, far from increasing the growing permissiveness, each will help control it and make the moral climate of society more wholesome" (Vatican Council II- Volume 2, 109 "Declaration of certain problems of sexual ethics").

Having said this, there is nothing wrong with writing beautiful things. Beautiful things can be uplifting and bring about good morals and a wholesome society. Benedict XVI continues that authentic beauty "unlocks the yearning of the human heart, the profound desire to know, to love, to go towards the Other, to reach for the Beyond".

Reaching for the Beyond... I like that... I like that very much!

Taking A Risk

Today poses for a challenge. Something that I find scary to take on. Something risky- putting myself out there.

A lot of people have asked me if the main character in my book is based on myself. I've been safely saying "no" for six years now. But I'm starting to see my own life emerge in her life. Situations, personalities, attitudes... But her story is about her, not me, I convince myself. And yet the feelings I experienced at certain moments in my life is all too similar to the feelings she is experiencing in her life. I guess the difference is the experiences themselves. I've never been through what she has been through. And I'm glad for it!

Anyway, back to the risk. I'm going to share with you a part of my life that was hard to face. It happened a very long time ago and I feel at peace about it now. However, it is awfully interesting how Evelyn is taking upon the same emotions as I did...

Ok. Breathe. Here goes:

And I find myself thinking about him again.

His face creeps back into my mind.

But I push it away.

I cannot face it, not today of all days.

It's too much for me to handle.

Too much for me to bear.

I am not strong enough yet.

And there is nothing to hold me up

No one to lean on.

I cannot do this on my own.

And I start to wonder if I will ever be strong enough

To stand on my own.

To face it without crumbling, cracking, flaking away in the sun.

I cringe at the thought,

And in my mind, run away and hide.

I wasn't strong enough then, I am not now.

Oh will I ever be?

Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?

I Dream Of Sleep

One of the subjects I'm taking at uni this semester is narrative production. In groups we had to nominate a script (written by one of the group members in a previous assessment) and make it into a short film. I was delighted yesterday when my group decided that we would produce my script, Insomniacs.

In the lecture we talked about copyright and using other people's material in our films. Unfortunately my script included the characters singing a song (no, it's not a musical!). So in order to dodge the copyright bullet, we decided as a group that we would make up our own song... or rather, that I would make up a new song! So, that's what I've spent this morning doing- writing a song about sleep (or lack of).

Once we finish the production, I'll post it up, so the lyrics below will make a lot more sense. But for now, enjoy!

I Dream Of Sleep

All I want to do is sleep,

If only I could close my eyes,

But in the end I know I’d weep,

To know you are not by my side.

Oh if only I could sleep,

I’d dream this night away,

If only you were in my arms,

The night would turn to day.

Where are you, my one, my true?

If only you were here tonight

Oh I will sigh and wait for you

‘Til my heavy eyes can shut tight.

Oh if only I could sleep,

I’d dream this night away,

If only you were in my arms,

The night would turn to day.

In the end, the time will be worth it

In the end, we will be strong

In the end, nothing else will matter

In the scheme of things, ‘tis not that long.

Oh if only I could sleep,

I’d dream this night away,

If only you were in my arms,

The night would turn to day.

Materialism

Back in high school, my year twelve english class journeyed on many-a-tangents. My memories dwell not with the curriculum we learnt (because who remembers school work anyway?), but with how we ventured into random topics, even going as far as what it meant to be an emo. I can recall one particular lesson, my English teacher making a very interesting statement about teenagers and mobile phones. That mobiles had become "an extension of the arm." This thought has come back to me every so often, mainly when I'm in the city. 
I feel that there is a new evolution to the human body in recent years. That of the iPod. I am so intrigued by this, that I decided to include it in Seasons. "Their iPod’s were like an abnormal growth out of their ears, permanently attached after many years of the body accepting the symbiotic relationship."
How does such a thing come about? We went from having home phones to "bricks", to your iPhone of today... and then where did the cassette player go? It's people searching for more and more. They wouldn't need to if they had true fulfillment in our God. Only He can fill the hole in our hearts; the hunger, the yearning inside.

Satisfaction

Customer satisfaction is hard to come by,

When consumers raise the bar every time.

Always wanting, expecting more,

And everyone goes home empty inside.

We fool ourselves thinking that this time will be different.

Full of longing, hopes held high.

And still the disappointment rains on our parade,

Washing away our dreams, 

Leaving us with a little hole that nothing seems to fill.

We all know the answer.

We know where to go.

We all know the question to ask,

And who to ask it to.

So tell me, why don't we?

A Seed Of Hope

It's been a while, I know, however writing has been in a different form as of late. University calls for a mind blazing with ideas, and yes they have come flooding in. The problem being that the hours required in study plus the celebration of a significant birthday bring about a certain level of exhaustion- and being tired finds it hard for inspiration. It is incredible how much freer a person feels when they aren't rushing around from one place to another. I can recall only a month ago, before Uni started for the year, just how much easier it was to be creative. I fear for the completion of my novel in the time period I have allocated myself- December is looming!

Thus, it calls for a seed of hope:

In every hug there is a little bit of love.

In every laugh there is a hint of happiness.

In every dream there is a seed of hope.

In every today there is a thought for tomorrow.

No matter the person, the place, the thing,

No matter the church that brings the ring,

No matter the child that waves goodbye,

No matter the good times that make you cry.

Don't ever doubt the goodness in this world,

Just look to the Heavens you will see the reward.

He has a great plan in mind for you-

The most perfect one in fact: it's yours to pursue.

Something A Little Different

My eyes have been widened in the last few weeks and I feel the need to share it, rather than my usual banter about writing. Disaster seems to be left, right, and centre. It’s in countries far from reach, but it also feels as close as my back pocket.

There has been destruction happening in the Middle East for years, but the coverage of car bombs and dead soldiers has been increasing steadily on the TV screen as we’ve watched.

My wake up call to natural disasters began in 2004 when the tsunamis hit the Indian Ocean. The reason being that I was actually in Thailand at the time when it happened and was meant to be in Phuket (one of the places in Thailand that was wiped out), but due to a series of circumstances, I holidayed safely in Pataya (a sheltered cove close to Bangkok). From then on I have paid closer attention to the scary thunderstorms, unusual weather patterns, things like the black Saturday bushfires in NSW, and more recently, the earthquake disaster in Haiti.

Then there is the daily tragedy of people dying in third world countries from disease, malnutrition, and other things that the rest of us take for granted. Not to mention the fact that abortion is now an accepted practice in many places and pregnancies are being treated as “unwanted problems”.

As much as these things break my heart and make me wonder where all the goodness is gone in the world, what tugs at my heart the most (and likely the same for many others) is those things that are happening to the people around me, those people who I know personally and care for deeply. It started with an acquaintances mother passing away. Then a family friend contracted cancer. And then another with cancer, another having surgery, and then another had a heart attack.

I always thought myself lucky to not have experienced the extreme illness or death of a loved one- or myself for that matter. Especially when I knew that others around me had to deal with tragedy after tragedy. And even though these things have been happening gradually (with natural disasters and the like), it still has been a bit of a shock to the system and shaken me up a bit. It makes me wonder what there is left to be done- what could I possibly do to help? For those far away, it just seems too big, too many people. And as for those much closer, how could any of my words or actions be enough? I feel there is only one thing left to give: prayers. Unceasing prayers for the needy- whether it be in basic human needs of safety, shelter, food, love, or belongingness.

I have been given a blessed life so that I can offer this simple thing for these people. It may not be the only thing I can offer, but I can offer it at any time of any day- so can you and anyone else. It’s as simple as the few words, “Lord be with them.” And what would bring Him greater pleasure than to receive, not only our prayers for His people, but also the gratitude for the blessed lives we live- no matter the difficulties faced? I suppose the key is that life is always blessed with the presence of the Lord in it. And we should be thankful for that alone. Anything else is a bonus.