You can't have it all… but maybe you can have more than you think

Shame is such a persistent element of this modern life. Perhaps it is because we have so much constant input coming in from every angle, a million how-to books, a million blog articles offering advice, with think pieces on productivity, maturity, parenting, spirituality, career choices, nutrition, social justice, politics, and more.

They may be well-intentioned, but it can create a lingering suspicion that we're always doing it wrong. Even if we correct our behavior or opinions in response to a convincing argument, there's an opposing viewpoint one week later. It's good that we're listening, it's good that we're evaluating and challenging our own beliefs, I think it's a sign of positive change, but it's also an awful lot of noise. With time, it can become an awful lot of weight.

Or, maybe that's just me. Perhaps I'm uniquely influenced by guilt. I kept taking piano lessons for years because I thought not playing piano would make me a bad person. I feared I'd end up regretting my choices.

Many times I don't even realize guilt is influencing my behavior.

All of this leads into a book review…

I recently read "The Renaissance Soul: Life Design for People with Too Many Passions to Pick Just One". The title says it all. This is a book for people who are always finding themselves pulled in a million different directions, by a million different interests.

Our culture preaches the importance of choosing. This is especially pervasive in the dance industry. How often have dancers heard variations of the idea, "Dance requires everything"? There's a lot of talk of sacrifice and focus. Dedicating yourself completely. Not doing so makes you less of a dancer. It means you don't love it as much as the next guy.

It isn't only true for dancers. The further you get in any career or field of study, the more focused you're expected to get. I believe it discourages a lot of people. It's easy to get depressed looking at a future of doing one thing forever if that isn't ingrained into your personality.

I've learned that love doesn't always requires exclusivity. Each time I crack open a history book, sit down at the piano (yes, I eventually went back to piano), create a unique design element, or take time out to work on my novel, it isn't making me less of a dancer.

Maybe that sounds obvious and silly to you, but it was a major illumination for me. I needed permission to love a lot of things, even if permission only came from a book. I needed someone to tell me that my art wouldn't suffer if I widened my scope a little. I wanted to be set free of the guilt I didn't even know I was bearing.

The author, Lobenstine, uses the example of Leonardo da Vinci, who followed his curiosity down many different paths. The guy is credited as a painter, sculptor, architect, musician, mathematician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, geologist, cartographer, botanist, and writer. Would anyone dare to criticize him, telling him to focus his interests and dedicate himself to one field? No, because he's frickin' Leonardo da Vinci. For all the paths he took, his Mona Lisa is still one of the most celebrated paintings of all time. I'd argue his diverse interests made him a better artist than he would have been if he limited himself to one field.

That isn't to say I'm anywhere near the level of Leonardo da Vinci, but I do think I have some similar wiring in the way that I approach art. Lobenstine does a great job outlining practical strategies and plans for those with a Renaissance Soul personality type. Though I didn't fill out all the worksheets, they got me thinking in a more productive way and enabled me to create a few of my own plans.

If you think you might be a Renaissance Soul, I can't recommend this book enough. The career plans are great, but the best part is finding permission to embrace your own curiosity.

Thank You, Mr. Ray Bradbury

I don't remember exactly how old I was the day I read my first Bradbury story. I know I'd already cut my teeth on Lord of the Rings, worked my way through the Babysitters Club and Nancy Drew and consumed almost everything Mark Twain ever wrote. Jane Eyre convinced me that I wasn't alone and Jane Austin convinced me that men would get better as I got older.

But it wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed to consume. The librarian's recommendations, though helpful, weren't filling that deep need for... I don't know... something different. Something transcendent. I was formulating my concept of what was possible with literature and I was desperate for books that would challenge me in unique ways.

Enter Bradbury.

His stories were recommended to me by a unprecedented source: my father. Close as we were, my father and I never talked books. Oh, my dad read now and then, still does, but not in the same hungry, all consuming way my mother, sister and I did. For us reading was an addiction. For him it was an occasionally pleasant way of passing time. So, when he handed me the Martian Chronicles, in my teenage, judgy way, I raised my eyebrows.

But Dad was serious about it. "Bradbury is so good," he said to me, "I loved him when I was a boy."

"Is this a boy book?" I wondered. After all, it had one of those old-fashioned, nerdy sci-fi covers I'd learned to avoid. It was about... aliens? And... spaceships? Really? I mean, I was down for fairies and unicorns, hobbits and dwarfs, but the colonization of a foreign planet was a bit much.

Don't judge me. I was still learning to embrace my inner nerd.

All of this to say - I read it. I read it and then I read it again. I read Fahrenheit 451, Something Wicked This Way Comes, The Illustrated Man, Dandelion Wine, and more. Bradbury's writing was some of the most vivid I had ever come across. You could almost sense him chuckling as he ran his fingers over the keys. His prose was never strained or tormented, but rushed through your brain with sweet inevitability. It was kind. It wanted to share new worlds with you, wanted to let you in on the joke. It found its inspiration in creativity and joy. Even when scary or twisted, there was still a joyfulness to being scared. There was no mistaking the fact that Ray Bradbury loved to write.

Since becoming a rough approximation of an adult, I've revisited Bradbury's work many times. I've read his essays on writing and learned a great deal from them. I've learned to be jealous of his marvelous brain and grateful for his dedication to craft. I've journeyed multiple times into the worlds he created, always finding something to celebrate, something to learn from and something to aspire to. Life is bigger, richer and stranger when you're reading one of his books. Bradbury is the ultimate definition of what I would love to be: a generous artist with the courage to charge on. Dad was right. Bradbury is good. He's really good.

And that's why I can't be too saddened by his death. Sure, I mourn the fact that there will be no more stories, no more quiet knowledge that somewhere in the world Ray Bradbury is thinking about something exciting. But death should never be considered a tragedy for someone who so thoroughly ruled at life. Someone whose influence will be felt far beyond our ability to comprehend.

Thank you, Dad, for handing me that book all those years ago and thank you, Mr. Bradbury, for including all of us in your dreams.

What Makes a Good Leader?

I've been thinking a lot lately about leaders as portrayed in literature and film. This has brought me to the realization that some of my favorite characters are those in leadership roles. When a character is responsible for the well-being of others, it brings so many elements of drama and tension into the story. Everything has a greater cost and that can emerge in fascinating ways.

One of my all time favorite characters is Mal Reynolds from the short-lived television show "Firefly" and film "Serenity". He's prickly, scarred and sometimes unapproachable. He's gotten used to being in charge and the fact that leaders are responsible for making the choices others might find unbearable. Yet, he's also the one cracking jokes and keeping people's spirits up when things go wrong (as they inevitably do). He has faith in the people he's chosen to surround himself with.

Another example is from Nova Suma's latest novel "Imaginary Girls".

Ruby's an enigmatic character who is often hard to relate to. She seems to have the whole world in her hands, but it isn't until late in the story that we find out there's a weight to such gifts. She's an interesting example of a leader, because in so many ways, she's still just a carefree child. Watching her balance those two sides of her personality is an interesting experience, an example of what can happen when a child leads.

Leaders have to be well-developed. There's something about the act of leading that forces dimension onto characters. The same might be said for people (the ones who aren't written, but actually breathe).

Leadership can be toxic, or it can be healthy. It can be held tightly in the fist, or in a laissez-faire style. It can be chosen, or bestowed. There are those who think of leadership and see only power, without acknowledging the self-sacrifice required to be effective, the long and thankless task before all those in charge.

A quote on leadership from Nelson Mandela: "It is better to lead from behind and to put others in front, especially when you celebrate victory when nice things occur. You take the front line when there is danger. Then people will appreciate your leadership."

Publilius Syrus: "Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm."

What about you? What have you found to be the most striking examples of leadership in fiction? Or, film and television?

In Honor of Handmade Book Covers

Okay, they might not be completely handmade, but they all have a personalized, handmade quality to them. It might not be the most professional business decision for your ebook, but I love the idea that something so technological can still speak to us on this level. Even when the artwork is amateurish, there's still a charm to it, especially when contrasted with the template-driven book covers that seem to dominate the independent market.

So, here it is! A celebration of covers. :)

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Would you ever consider drawing your own book cover? Or, having a friend draw your book cover? Do you like the way they look, or are you more drawn to photographs and graphic art? I think so much is changing so quickly, that anything human and tangible in the book world elicits an emotional response from me. That might be why I admire this kind of cover. At the same time, I don't know if it is a choice I would make for my own work. Guess I'm already too entrenched in the digital world.

The Joy of Used Things

I love wandering through thrift stores and garage sales. Looking through old photographs and postcards. Thumbing through racks of previously owned clothing and looking at the strange toys which once decorated a child's room. Stories cling to these items.

Best of all are used bookstores. I love the well-read books. The ones with surprise notes in the margins, dedications, or interesting bookmarks. So many things are jammed between the pages of these books. I've also found a lot of signed copies of books that I love. I've got books signed by Laurie R. King, Connie Willis, Douglas Adams, and others. (All from used bookstores). In a large book I bought with stories and photos of Baryshnikov there was an article clipped out of a newspaper wedged between the pages. It described one of his early performances. Yeah, used bookstores are awesome.

What about you? Do you frequent used bookstores? What sort of treasures have you stumbled upon?

Speaking of stumbling upon things, the below picture is pretty hilarious, yes? I think I need a yokel's wig. Mostly I'm just left wondering what use a gentleman would have for any of these wigs. Especially a female wig. He should wear it with the villainous mustache. Yes. That would be awesome.

Reader's log:

22. City of Ashes - Cassandra Clare

23. City of Glass - Cassandra Clare

Roadtrip Wednesday #69: Imagine that...

Road Trip Wednesday is a "Blog Carnival" where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question and answer it on our own blogs. You can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.

This week's topic is: Invent your own mythological creature!

Let's see...

They live in libraries and wear clothing made out of the pages of books no one checks out.

They have ears like a kitten's that can hear sounds from all the way over in the Children's Section, warning them to hide deep in Reference.

They grow extremely tall and thin, but when they get spotted by a patron, they sink down into a shapeless blob and secrete scented mucus that tricks the patron into thinking that the creatures are merely napping homeless people.

They don't talk, but do occasionally make shushing noises.

They salt the library steps in the snowy seasons and spit on cars that stay in the drop-off spots too long.

Most libraries only have one, though large, downtown locations might have two.

The creatures appear when a library is born and die when it is closed.

If you've ever walked into a library and found the exact right book sitting in front of you at the exact right time, that was the creatures' doing. Don't worry about thanking them. They're only doing their job.

Librarians know about them, but they won't tell.

I call them: Bibliosaurs

Are You a Genre Reader?

If a book looks interesting I'll generally read it, regardless of genre, but there are some themes I'm drawn to more than others.

I'll admit it, I like a melancholy story. If a book ends too happily, I mistrust it. The hero can triumph, but I need a sense that something has been lost along the way.

On the flip side, I hate feeling like every thread of hope has been completely decimated. When a book ends in complete destruction it feels like a cheap out. It reminds of the stories kids used to write in elementary school when they killed off all their characters to make an ending. Misery porn. Bleh.

I think there's something about the human mind that rebels when you offer it too much or too little hope. It can recognize the untrue thing, just as it can spot bad CGI.

I like ensemble stories. I'm interested in seeing how an author can successfully drawn me into a group of people and invest me in their dynamics. So many book characters are lonely, trying to make it through the world on their own. But the loneliness of characters in a group is rarer to read.

I like the fantastic. I like wild ideas that will draw me into plots I couldn't have imagined. I like seeing the same old human conflicts given new complexity through crazy worlds and different belief systems.

I like powerful questions. The author doesn't have to answer the questions, but I love it when they thoroughly explore them. I especially like ambiguity. A question is raised and there is no clear solution. Every choice brings the potential for collapse. I feel that way every time I fill out my ballot.

What I don't like: anything heartwarming. If a book or movie uses the word heartwarming to describe itself, I'm probably going to put it back. Apparently my heart doesn't like to be warmed.

What themes or patterns do you find yourself drawn to over and over again. Which ones do you reject? Does this plant you within a few genres, or is there a lot of overlap?

Roadtrip Wednesday #65: Groundhog Day

Road Trip Wednesday is a "Blog Carnival" where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing or reading related question and answer it on our blogs. You can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic. Check it out here: YA Highway

This Week's Topic

In the movie Groundhog Day Bill Murray has to relive the same day over and over. What books would you pick to read over and over for the rest of your life?

I haven't seen the movie in a looooong time, but I remember liking it. Weird kid that I was, I laughed quite a bit at the scenes where Bill Murray keeps killing himself and waking up the next morning.

The idea of reading only a small collection of books for the rest of my life is a little terrifying. Even answering this challenge is scary, because I have a completely illogical fear that someone will hold me to my answers. Ahhhhhh!!!!

Here they are, in no particular order:

Book One:

The Martian Chronicles

I love all of Bradbury's work, so choosing just one is difficult. He's one of the writers who made me want to write with his endless imagination, and love of nostalgia, horror, impossible things, beautiful worlds, and people who veer from despicable to intensely hopeful. Why Martian Chronicles? Because, as a portrait of a slowly changing world, it's endlessly readable. Also, it's one of the first books that got me into science fiction.

Book Two:

Jane Eyre

I love this book. I read it for the first time as a young KidSarah and found Jane instantly relatable. I still hold that she's one of the best written heroines of all time. Charlotte Bronte's writing is lush and beautiful without seeming overly cluttered. She's a master of description and tone. Plus, secrets, mysteries and moral quandaries! Dark, gothic English mansions! Dangerous, sexy Rochester!

Book Three:

The Prophet

If you're wondering why I would choose this book, read the following quotes:

"You shall be together when white wings of death scatter your days.

Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.

But, let there be spaces in your togetherness,

And let winds of the heavens dance between you."

"Life is indeed darkness save where there is urge,

And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge,

And all knowledge is vain save when there is work,

And all work is empty save when there is love."

"You can muffle the drum, and you can loosen the strings of the lyre, but who shall command the skylark not to sing?"

Book Four:

The Creative Habit

Sure, Twyla Tharp is a choreographer, but this book is essential reading for any artist. Absolutely brilliant and will revolutionize the way that you work. Tharp is an extremely intelligent woman and her body of work speaks for itself. It's also comprehensive enough that you can read it over and over again, getting something new every time.

Book Five:

The 101 Dalmatians

Back before Disney turned it into a franchise, there was this beautiful little book. This is my comfort novel. I'm not always obsessed with books about animals, but this one is so honest, gentle and loving. The dogs' adventures take on a whole new meaning in the hands of Dodie Smith. Most people look at me like I'm crazy if I tell them that I love this book. Trust me. Read it. It's a wonderful thing.

Okay, I'm getting tired. But, I can't give up! Here's the rest of my list:

6. Lord of the Rings Trilogy - There's so much in there. How can you not? The most epic of all epic fantasies, yet it takes time to sit with each of its characters and infuse them with personalities. So creative! So influential. One of the most hopeful books ever.

7. Never Let Me Go - For pure beauty of prose.

8. The Bible - Whether or not you choose to subscribe to the message within, you can't argue with the fact that this is one of the most influential books ever. Plus, lots of stories!

9. The Beekeeper's Apprentice and accompanying series - Gotta squeeze some mystery in there, and these are my favorites of all time. Even more than the original Sherlock stories? Tricky to say, but they sure are enjoyable reads. Plus, they span a wide range of countries, environments and topics. I love the strong, female main character.

10. A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court - My favorite of Mark Twain's book. Funny, smart, strange, interesting, and sad. Love it.

11. Chronicles of Narnia - Despite the movies trying to mess with my affection for these books, I'll still include them. Eventually the memory of the films will retreat, but I'll still have Lewis's creative and refreshing stories. I can't tell you how many times as a kid I wished Aslan would invite me to Narnia!

12. The Brothers Karamazov - Because it has everything a good book could ever imagine having.

This list could be extremely different if you asked me on a different day. If you made it through all of that, congrats!

Currently Listening:

Pack Up - Eliza Doolittle

Mazes

If you spend any time working on mazes, you discover that the easiest way to solve them is most often by starting at the end. Mazes are usually designed to be solved forwards, so all the tricks and dead ends are engineered to trap the forward traveling individual. (It's true! Try it!)

I think when you are building a good story, or any work of art that is experienced by an individual over time, there is a lot to be gained by working the same way. Anyone who has followed a television show for years only to be let down by the ending will agree with me. We owe it to our audiences to know where we are leading them, because every step of the story should be in service to that.

When you are reading a book (a good book) often it feels like being inside a corn maze. You are very alive within that moment, but you can't always see beyond the walls. As you proceed you gain more information, but are still hemmed in to what the writer chooses to reveal. It isn't until the end that you realize how each of those turns brought you to this moment. If it is a stupid maze then you feel let down, quickly get into your car and drive off. If it is a good maze, then there is a moment where you stand there completely aghast at how all those little pieces and parts inexplicably brought you to this perfect moment.

There have been many times that I've read a book, realizing as I read it that it is a pretty good book. Well-written, good characters, lots of beautiful little moments. Happily I continue along until I get to the ending, where the writer just completely eviscerates me with one amazing paragraph that puts everything prior into a completely new light, bowling me over with the power of what I just read. These are the best books. These are my favorite books. These are the books that sit in my heart and haunt me. (Selfishly, these are also the books that I want to write.)

Connie Willis does this and it is one of the reasons I love her writing so much. She doesn't seem to get talked about these days outside the museum of science fiction, but I suggest anyone who hasn't read her work pick up Passage, Lincoln's Dreams, or Doomsday Book. The writer knows what she is doing, even when the reader is completely lost.

Henry James does the same thing, but in a different way. What I love about his stories is that sometimes you don't know the characters until the very last paragraph. You think you do, but in one beautiful moment they turn around and look you square in the face, saying, "No, you don't know the first thing about me. This is who I am and it is far grander, stranger, and more pathetic than you could have guessed." Suddenly their world is larger than yours.

Why do I so love my books this way? Maybe because this is my hope for life as well. So often things seem random, meaningless, messy, dull, and mean. If I can cling to the hope that they aren't meaningless at all, but leading to a magnificent final paragraph, then it makes it easier to accept the journey.

To some extent, isn't that what we are trying to do when we make art? Put the world back into order and prove that it wasn't a lame maze, but a totally awesome one?

I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues - Elton John