The Red Tree

Shaun Tan is amazing. Just amazing. I was doing a little bit of research at Pulp Fiction for a Uni assignment on Monday and I came across a stand plastered with his works. I'd heard of him before and hadn't been that impressed, but standing there in that bookstore, seeing it all before my eyes, it suddenly hit me how brilliant his work is. I felt like I was in heaven! I played with the idea in my head of how nice it would be to OWN one of his books, but as I usually do, I talked myself out of it and began to walk away. But I didn't get more than two steps away from the shelf before stopping, turning around, grabbing "The Red Tree", and then quickly buying it before I changed my mind. Nothing could wipe the smile from my face as I walked away from that bookstore, Shaun Tan in my hands. I rarely buy things for myself. And even rarer do I buy things to cheer myself up. But this was a one-off. Oh how glad I am that I changed my mind!

I feel so inspired to create just by thinking about it. If you haven't heard of him before, you don't know what you're missing out on! The Red Tree is a true masterpiece.

I mean, seriously, look at the brilliance in this absurd image:

Nobody Understands Me- Shaun Tan's The Red Tree

The words, so simple, are beautifully crafted prose that resonates deeply within me. And I love a story with a circular story-line. It just feels "good" when you get to the end and it links back to the beginning. Like things have happened, things have changed, and things will be different from now on, and yet we're back where we were before.

As much of a words person I am, I just love stories. So a story with such little words is no problem to me. The less words you use, the better, really. I can't wait to get my hands on "The Arrival". It has no words at all...

That's Deep

Evelyn is head smart but definitely not life smart. In a way, it's like she sees how to reconcile a situation, but is just too stubborn to. Her pride gets the better of her. And she wants nothing more than to wallow in her own self-pity.

Just as I am learning more about myself every day- more about who I am, who I was created to be, what I like to do, where my passions lie, and what I believe in, Evelyn is doing the same. Her person is emerging in a thicket of words that flow from my brain through to my fingertips. She has taken on a life of her own, and I am thoroughly enjoying getting to know her.

I'm getting a small sense of what it would be like to be God. It's rather exciting. And at the same time, enlightening- feeling a persons internal struggles and the actions they cause externally. As Evelyn has become victim to her own torture, it's helping me to see the ways that I have caused myself to suffer over the years. Refusing to remember things- that only pushes the pain deeper.

I have buried my past so thoroughly

That the memories are lost and forgotten.

I have come so far

I don’t even remember who I used to be.

Lost And Found

Last week I was lucky enough to spend three days straight on my book! It was probably the first time that I have ever been able to just go and go and go all day long. Boy was I on a roll and loving every minute of it. To my great dismay, however, on Thursday evening after work, I re-opened the document on my laptop to find that the previous days' work was not there! I didn't know what to do. I was gobsmacked and the reality of my work gone took a long time to sink in. When it did, it hit me hard. I just couldn't believe that it was gone and there was nothing I could do to get it back- other than to write it all over again.

Luckily I went to footy that night and it helped to clear my thoughts and get this great tragedy off my mind. I knew that if I didn't write it as soon as possible then the motivation would be gone and I would have really struggled to "piece the words together". So, when I returned home I was ready to sit down, suck it up, and do what needed to be done. It took just over four hours and it was well into the morning when I had finished, but that was just it- I had done it! What was lost from the memory of my computer was found by recollecting the general flow of where I had taken Evelyn. It wasn't the same, but that is okay, it didn't need to be. Perhaps you could even say that it is better now?

Most importantly, I've learnt my lesson- back up, back up, back up!!!

Thank goodness I didn't let despair get ahold of me as I did once upon a time:

There’s no point holding on anymore

It’s lost, forgotten, never to be found.

The result is as expected;

Disappointment rains down,

The silence rings out deafeningly.

There's more to this piece but perhaps I'll share it another time when I'm feeling a little braver :P

It's All In The Eyes

It took me an hour and a half of research and critical thinking, but eventually I managed to piece together the words that described beautifully my [currently] nameless character! It would have been too much to tell of his creaseless buttoned dress-shirt and pants, his sandy-brown hair that sparkled like the ocean when the suns' rays hit it, and his long thin fingers, that whilst they were harshly charcoal-stained black, they still appeared gentle. No, that would have been too much for such a seemingly perfect character. Because by definition of being perfect, there is a lot of unknown- because a person can only seem perfect, not be perfect.

So I satisfied myself with targeting his eyes. Eyes can tell a lot about a person- you can see pain in someone's eyes. You can see secrets in someone's eyes. A person can use their eyes to cause you to trust. And that is what he has done with his opulent emeralds: caused Evelyn to trust a complete stranger.

There’s something in your eyes

It gets me every time.

The sincerity, the care, the love

And it’s that word which creeps to my lips,

Daring to hang naked between us.

But before I get the chance,

You speak, your smooth voice making me melt,

And your words take my breath away.

It doesn’t matter how good a liar you are

The eyes will always give you away.

Well, eventually Evelyn will see it, anyway...

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?