This is going to be a short post. Most of my posts over the next month will probably be pretty short. I am still going to try to keep up the at-least weekly posting, but I will be focusing on attempting to get a novel written between November 1st and November 30th.
As I stated in an earlier post, I'm competing in NaNoWriMo this year. I was scared pretty much shitless by the idea when I signed up, but as the start date approaches, I am feeling pretty confident. In large part, that is due to the fact that I downloaded a trial version of the program Scrivener. If you happen to be a writer of pretty much any style or genre, I highly recommend you give it a shot. It has helped me organize and plan my novel in a way that has made this insane task I'm undertaking much more manageable and clear. I now have a general plot arc with summaries of each chapter, character dossiers, and plenty of other background research-type information at my fingertips. It has helped me realize that I have a lot more ideas than I thought I had, which was certainly a welcome surprise. Scrivener's user interface is simple, neat, and fun to use - something that is probably likely to help me stay motivated on days when I just don't feel like writing in November.
On a related note, I went to my first official NaNoWriMo event on Sunday evening. It was a kickoff party at Capital Ale House, and I really enjoyed myself. The people there were strange; many of them were even weirder than me. I guess a contest like this attracts its own unique set of participants, most of whom were a lot of fun. It was strange seeing the people who have done this for a few years, and how confident they felt when other newbies like myself seemed so terrified. The organizers provided notebooks for everyone, and we went around and wrote encouragements or ideas in each other's books. It was fun talking to such a varied group of people and hearing the ideas that all of them had. I expected there to be a lot of young people there, and I was surprised that it seemed like most of the participants were baby-boomer aged. I don't know why, but it kind of made me hopeful to see that creativity doesn't die in older folks - apparently, it's more alive there than anywhere else.
That's it for now. I suppose all that's left is to actually write the damned book. Piece of cake.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
It Doesn't Seem Like That Much Has Changed in the Last 400 Years
This week at school has been the type that convinces me that teaching has to be one of the greatest professions a person could ever possibly have.
When I decided to get into this line of work, I did it because I wanted to be a coach and because I wanted to sit around and talk about literature all day. There has been less discussion of books than I imagined when I signed on - the fact is that most of my students don't understand a lot of what they read the first time through, which makes deeper discussion about meaning difficult - but I did find an unexpected joy as I really got down to do the work of teaching.
Most of the kids I teach are fairly low-level students. They don't understand a lot of what they read, they are generally unmotivated by either grades or the pursuit of knowledge, and a lot of them are just flat-out lazy. Thinking about teaching a group like this could be mildly depressing, but it's not all bad. No matter what we are doing, there always seems to be at least one kid who is interested. Usually there are a few in scattered pockets across the classroom. These pockets, though they may shift from day to day or week to week, are who I choose to focus on. It's inspiring and gratifying to see a student really connect with a piece of literature: they feel good about themselves for the positive encouragement they hear when I assure them that yes, that is pretty much exactly what the author was saying. Watching a student really understand a difficult concept (it sounds sort of funny, but you really can SEE someone understand something, I promise) brings hope for the future. I figure that if I can find and enlighten those students who open themselves up to be enlightened each day, everyone will gain at least some small shred of literary knowledge during their time in my room. Sometimes it's hard to feel like I'm leaving the majority of students behind, but I try to imagine the impact I'm having with the ones who are getting something rather than focusing on what the ones who are asleep or zoned out are missing.
This is how I mentally and emotionally deal with the frustrations I encounter every day, and make no mistake, it can be very frustrating. But then there are weeks like this one, when everything comes together and for a moment you see what is really possible in all of these students and in the universe. Instead of looking for hints of light in a room of darkness, you are overwhelmed with the brightness that comes at you from all directions.
On a day that started with my students complaining that poetry is stupid and insisting that they will never need to know any of this, they were dumbstruck by the beauty of Pablo Neruda's words. The boy who volunteered to read his "Sonnet 89" looked as though he were about to cry when he finished. The entire group not only understood the poet's words, but really felt them.
When we read John Donne's "Holy Sonnet 10", my classes engaged in an energetic debate about the nature of death with a degree of intellectualism that I didn't realize many of them were capable of. They brought up their own fears of the hereafter, and recognized the paradox of realizing that there is nothing to be afraid of and their inability to let fear go.
A creative writing project which asked students to write poems using conceits ended with some of the best poetry created by young people that I've seen. One student, a 6'5" bohemoth headed to Virginia Tech on a football scholarship, wrote a tragic and beautiful poem about his mother being struck blind that left half of my class in tears.
When we read the seduction poems of Andrew Marvell, Robert Herrick, and John Suckling, my students were eager to discuss each of these men and their writing. I don't think I saw a single students asleep or not paying attention all day. Like much great literature, the poems we read focus on men's attempts to get women to sleep with them; after reading the poems and discussing their arguments, one girl said, "it doesn't seem like that much has changed in the last 400 years!" I agreed with her and we all laughed about it.
I love that my students are connecting with literature in a way that is meaningful to them. I love that they are interested when they get in the room. I love that I feel like everyone in the room is really getting something out of what we are doing, and not just the few who feel good that day. I don't expect every week to be like this - teenagers really do have very emotionally taxing lives, and it's almost ridiculous to expect them to care about everything every day - but when so many great days are strung together in this way, it makes me know for sure that I am doing the right thing with my life.
When I decided to get into this line of work, I did it because I wanted to be a coach and because I wanted to sit around and talk about literature all day. There has been less discussion of books than I imagined when I signed on - the fact is that most of my students don't understand a lot of what they read the first time through, which makes deeper discussion about meaning difficult - but I did find an unexpected joy as I really got down to do the work of teaching.
Most of the kids I teach are fairly low-level students. They don't understand a lot of what they read, they are generally unmotivated by either grades or the pursuit of knowledge, and a lot of them are just flat-out lazy. Thinking about teaching a group like this could be mildly depressing, but it's not all bad. No matter what we are doing, there always seems to be at least one kid who is interested. Usually there are a few in scattered pockets across the classroom. These pockets, though they may shift from day to day or week to week, are who I choose to focus on. It's inspiring and gratifying to see a student really connect with a piece of literature: they feel good about themselves for the positive encouragement they hear when I assure them that yes, that is pretty much exactly what the author was saying. Watching a student really understand a difficult concept (it sounds sort of funny, but you really can SEE someone understand something, I promise) brings hope for the future. I figure that if I can find and enlighten those students who open themselves up to be enlightened each day, everyone will gain at least some small shred of literary knowledge during their time in my room. Sometimes it's hard to feel like I'm leaving the majority of students behind, but I try to imagine the impact I'm having with the ones who are getting something rather than focusing on what the ones who are asleep or zoned out are missing.
This is how I mentally and emotionally deal with the frustrations I encounter every day, and make no mistake, it can be very frustrating. But then there are weeks like this one, when everything comes together and for a moment you see what is really possible in all of these students and in the universe. Instead of looking for hints of light in a room of darkness, you are overwhelmed with the brightness that comes at you from all directions.
On a day that started with my students complaining that poetry is stupid and insisting that they will never need to know any of this, they were dumbstruck by the beauty of Pablo Neruda's words. The boy who volunteered to read his "Sonnet 89" looked as though he were about to cry when he finished. The entire group not only understood the poet's words, but really felt them.
When we read John Donne's "Holy Sonnet 10", my classes engaged in an energetic debate about the nature of death with a degree of intellectualism that I didn't realize many of them were capable of. They brought up their own fears of the hereafter, and recognized the paradox of realizing that there is nothing to be afraid of and their inability to let fear go.
A creative writing project which asked students to write poems using conceits ended with some of the best poetry created by young people that I've seen. One student, a 6'5" bohemoth headed to Virginia Tech on a football scholarship, wrote a tragic and beautiful poem about his mother being struck blind that left half of my class in tears.
When we read the seduction poems of Andrew Marvell, Robert Herrick, and John Suckling, my students were eager to discuss each of these men and their writing. I don't think I saw a single students asleep or not paying attention all day. Like much great literature, the poems we read focus on men's attempts to get women to sleep with them; after reading the poems and discussing their arguments, one girl said, "it doesn't seem like that much has changed in the last 400 years!" I agreed with her and we all laughed about it.
I love that my students are connecting with literature in a way that is meaningful to them. I love that they are interested when they get in the room. I love that I feel like everyone in the room is really getting something out of what we are doing, and not just the few who feel good that day. I don't expect every week to be like this - teenagers really do have very emotionally taxing lives, and it's almost ridiculous to expect them to care about everything every day - but when so many great days are strung together in this way, it makes me know for sure that I am doing the right thing with my life.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
NaNoWriMo
November is National Novel Writing Month, as decided by the good people at the NaNoWriMo offices. I first heard about the contest, which encourages participants to write a 50,00 word novel in 30 days, a couple of years ago. The younger sister of a friend had participated a couple of times, and she told me about her adventures in insanely fast book-writing. I was immediately intrigued - I used advice from the website to help my middle school students craft short stories during my student teaching just a few weeks later, and I based my entire curriculum around the website when I taught creative writing last year. I flirted with the idea of undertaking what is probably an act of near-lunacy last November, but honestly was just too scared to do it. November is when wrestling season starts, and when my life become exponentially busier, I rationalized.
But I just signed up for an account at the website. I entered myself in this year's contest. I am committed to finishing a book.
I have never been much for New Year's resolutions. I actually can't remember ever making one before this year, but last January I declared that 2010 would be the year of novel-writing. I did about 30 pages of character sketches, background writing, outlining, and general preparation, but only wrote about 10 pages of actual story.
So November is here, my last chance to finish a book this year, and I am determined to get it done. It's time to "nut up or shut up," as the fella says. I love to write. It's why I started this blog. I would love to get a book published and make some extra money, but my probably-quixotic quest is more about the fact that I feel like I have to actually DO something creative in my life. Finish something of my own rather than just be an appreciator or a scholar or a critic. I feel like a writer, even though I haven't really done all that much writing in my life. This is my chance to earn that feeling.
I'm sure my book is going to be pretty terrible, at least on November 30th. Hopefully I can turn it into something that someone might actually want to read, but even if no one ever does, I'm excited at the prospect of doing something.
I'm anxious and giddy and fearful and curious to see what next month brings. 50,000 words is an awful lot. Nearly 2,000 words a day. I'm sure I will be exhausted and at times discouraged, but I hope I can keep up the resolve to actually get this thing done. I think I can. I've done things in my life that seemed impossible at the time, and I have always been glad that I completed such tasks. It's been a long time since I did something really difficult, and I'm looking forward to the challenge.
But I just signed up for an account at the website. I entered myself in this year's contest. I am committed to finishing a book.
I have never been much for New Year's resolutions. I actually can't remember ever making one before this year, but last January I declared that 2010 would be the year of novel-writing. I did about 30 pages of character sketches, background writing, outlining, and general preparation, but only wrote about 10 pages of actual story.
So November is here, my last chance to finish a book this year, and I am determined to get it done. It's time to "nut up or shut up," as the fella says. I love to write. It's why I started this blog. I would love to get a book published and make some extra money, but my probably-quixotic quest is more about the fact that I feel like I have to actually DO something creative in my life. Finish something of my own rather than just be an appreciator or a scholar or a critic. I feel like a writer, even though I haven't really done all that much writing in my life. This is my chance to earn that feeling.
I'm sure my book is going to be pretty terrible, at least on November 30th. Hopefully I can turn it into something that someone might actually want to read, but even if no one ever does, I'm excited at the prospect of doing something.
I'm anxious and giddy and fearful and curious to see what next month brings. 50,000 words is an awful lot. Nearly 2,000 words a day. I'm sure I will be exhausted and at times discouraged, but I hope I can keep up the resolve to actually get this thing done. I think I can. I've done things in my life that seemed impossible at the time, and I have always been glad that I completed such tasks. It's been a long time since I did something really difficult, and I'm looking forward to the challenge.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Dribble, Dribble, Backspin, Dribble, Shoot
I don't have a very scientific mind, but I do enjoy reading about science when it's explained in a way that doesn't require an exceptional knowledge of math.
This is especially true of quantum mechanics. I know I don't possess the background knowledge or intelligence to gain a really authentic understanding or appreciation of what is happening in the world of physics, but everything I hear about what is happening in the discipline just seems so cool. Scientists have done a number of very interesting experiments that deal with light's ability to be both wave and particle; they have turned oxygen into a solid by focusing light through diamonds; they have manufactured gold (albeit out of platinum - not a good business plan, want-to-be alchemists); and they have made the same object appear in two places at the same time. Not two copies of the same object - the same object!
I suppose my first introduction to quantum physics was by way of an old thought experiment - the famous Schroedinger's Cat. If you are unfamiliar, the basic idea is this: if you were to put a cat in a box with a timed-release poison, until the moment you open the box to check on the cat, he exists simultaneously in two diametrically opposed states. He is both alive and dead at the same time.
When my dad first told me about this experiment in 8th grade, I didn't understand it, but I thought it was a really neat idea. To be able to be two totally oppossite things at once was such a totally novel and strange and subversive idea to my cliquish middle school mind. I still don't think I totally understand how Schroedinger's theory works in all its intricacies, but the more I learn and the more I think about it, the cooler it seems to me. It hints at the possibility or multiple worlds. I have images flash through my mind of Doctor Who and Sliders and Quantum Leap.
I think I also like the implications it has on Free Will. I'm not sure if I believe in Free Will or not, but I really want to (how's that for a paradox?) - the idea that, for even just a split second, multiple worlds exist seems to indicate a nexus of those worlds at each moment we make a choice. By choosing Option A instead of Option B, I am choosing World A instead of World B. The more I learn about the world of quantum, the more intertwined it seems the strands of science and philosophy become.
I'm sure that mixing up the ideas behind the two is a dangerous enterprise - in fact, This American Life recently broadcast an episode on the very subject. It's just too tempting not to. Even the name of this blog comes from a probably-misinterpreted law of physics (a story for another post!). When I hear about these rules of governance that affect the world I live in, I want to look at them through the lens of the type of thought that makes sense to me.
As far back as I can remember, I have always been very superstitious - very observant and respectful of ritual, especially when it comes to sports. This was more easily explainable when I still believed in God and the supernatural, but as a humanist, it became rather difficult to justify. Nevertheless, when I sit in a certain position and The Mets do well, I can't bring myself to move, no matter how uncomfortable I am. I learned to deal with cramps silently, because I was unwilling to sacrifice a rally to stretch for relief. I remember an entire two season span when I had to leave the room for every one of Roger Cedeno's at-bats, because he always struck out whenever I watched.
I wore the same pair of ratty orange shorts under my pants in every football game I ever played in; one time my mom tried to throw them away, and I had to search through the trash to get them back. I had the same foul-line routine for every freethrow I ever took, and the same pre-match warmup for every bout I ever wrestled. Now that I'm done competing myself, I have the same routine I go through with my wrestlers when they take the mat. I'm eager to pinpoint rituals that work and adhere to them religiously, whether it's wearing the same shirt to every JMU game or listening to the same song before every wrestling tournament. I am aware that my adherance to such habits is irrational and borderline obsessive-compulsive, but I simply can't bring myself to forgo the ritual - if my team lost, I would be saddled with the guilty knowledge that it was entirely my fault.
When I heard about the scientific principle called action at a distance, I felt a sense of justice and relief. It was a strange reaction, given that I can't recall anyone ever mocking me for my adherance to superstition. I guess I just enjoyed telling my rational mind to shove it. The basic idea behind action at a distance is that two objects or events, without any measurable connection and in entirely separate locations, can act upon each other in meaningful and profound ways. If you shoot two electrons away from each other at the speed of light, actions you take on one of the electrons are mirrored by the other - poke one and both react. It's crazy and I'm not sure that anyone understands why that happens - I certainly don't - but hearing that immediately brought to mind images of me sitting in my bed in 1999, in incredibly uncomfortable positions because the Mets were on a hot streak. The things I do matter!
This world works in ways not only mysterious, but also bizarre. The little bit I know about Superstring Theory makes it seem like a piece of bad short fiction out of one of those 1950s Sci-Fi magazines, but it also seems to be the most likely candidate to explain how our universe really works, and lots of very,very smart people back it with their full support. Every advancement in modern science seems to point towards things being connected in a deeply important way that makes physical separation seem trivial. "I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together" has always sounded intellectually and spiritually right, but it also now looks to be factually correct. That kind of connection is the kind of thing that makes me want to throw my hands in the air and dance everywhere I go, and it also makes me want to sit down and think until my brain melts. I can't claim to know much of anything about how the universe works, but I do know that it's a large and beautiful and unknowably complex thing that never ceases to amaze me.
This is especially true of quantum mechanics. I know I don't possess the background knowledge or intelligence to gain a really authentic understanding or appreciation of what is happening in the world of physics, but everything I hear about what is happening in the discipline just seems so cool. Scientists have done a number of very interesting experiments that deal with light's ability to be both wave and particle; they have turned oxygen into a solid by focusing light through diamonds; they have manufactured gold (albeit out of platinum - not a good business plan, want-to-be alchemists); and they have made the same object appear in two places at the same time. Not two copies of the same object - the same object!
I suppose my first introduction to quantum physics was by way of an old thought experiment - the famous Schroedinger's Cat. If you are unfamiliar, the basic idea is this: if you were to put a cat in a box with a timed-release poison, until the moment you open the box to check on the cat, he exists simultaneously in two diametrically opposed states. He is both alive and dead at the same time.
When my dad first told me about this experiment in 8th grade, I didn't understand it, but I thought it was a really neat idea. To be able to be two totally oppossite things at once was such a totally novel and strange and subversive idea to my cliquish middle school mind. I still don't think I totally understand how Schroedinger's theory works in all its intricacies, but the more I learn and the more I think about it, the cooler it seems to me. It hints at the possibility or multiple worlds. I have images flash through my mind of Doctor Who and Sliders and Quantum Leap.
I think I also like the implications it has on Free Will. I'm not sure if I believe in Free Will or not, but I really want to (how's that for a paradox?) - the idea that, for even just a split second, multiple worlds exist seems to indicate a nexus of those worlds at each moment we make a choice. By choosing Option A instead of Option B, I am choosing World A instead of World B. The more I learn about the world of quantum, the more intertwined it seems the strands of science and philosophy become.
I'm sure that mixing up the ideas behind the two is a dangerous enterprise - in fact, This American Life recently broadcast an episode on the very subject. It's just too tempting not to. Even the name of this blog comes from a probably-misinterpreted law of physics (a story for another post!). When I hear about these rules of governance that affect the world I live in, I want to look at them through the lens of the type of thought that makes sense to me.
As far back as I can remember, I have always been very superstitious - very observant and respectful of ritual, especially when it comes to sports. This was more easily explainable when I still believed in God and the supernatural, but as a humanist, it became rather difficult to justify. Nevertheless, when I sit in a certain position and The Mets do well, I can't bring myself to move, no matter how uncomfortable I am. I learned to deal with cramps silently, because I was unwilling to sacrifice a rally to stretch for relief. I remember an entire two season span when I had to leave the room for every one of Roger Cedeno's at-bats, because he always struck out whenever I watched.
I wore the same pair of ratty orange shorts under my pants in every football game I ever played in; one time my mom tried to throw them away, and I had to search through the trash to get them back. I had the same foul-line routine for every freethrow I ever took, and the same pre-match warmup for every bout I ever wrestled. Now that I'm done competing myself, I have the same routine I go through with my wrestlers when they take the mat. I'm eager to pinpoint rituals that work and adhere to them religiously, whether it's wearing the same shirt to every JMU game or listening to the same song before every wrestling tournament. I am aware that my adherance to such habits is irrational and borderline obsessive-compulsive, but I simply can't bring myself to forgo the ritual - if my team lost, I would be saddled with the guilty knowledge that it was entirely my fault.
When I heard about the scientific principle called action at a distance, I felt a sense of justice and relief. It was a strange reaction, given that I can't recall anyone ever mocking me for my adherance to superstition. I guess I just enjoyed telling my rational mind to shove it. The basic idea behind action at a distance is that two objects or events, without any measurable connection and in entirely separate locations, can act upon each other in meaningful and profound ways. If you shoot two electrons away from each other at the speed of light, actions you take on one of the electrons are mirrored by the other - poke one and both react. It's crazy and I'm not sure that anyone understands why that happens - I certainly don't - but hearing that immediately brought to mind images of me sitting in my bed in 1999, in incredibly uncomfortable positions because the Mets were on a hot streak. The things I do matter!
This world works in ways not only mysterious, but also bizarre. The little bit I know about Superstring Theory makes it seem like a piece of bad short fiction out of one of those 1950s Sci-Fi magazines, but it also seems to be the most likely candidate to explain how our universe really works, and lots of very,very smart people back it with their full support. Every advancement in modern science seems to point towards things being connected in a deeply important way that makes physical separation seem trivial. "I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together" has always sounded intellectually and spiritually right, but it also now looks to be factually correct. That kind of connection is the kind of thing that makes me want to throw my hands in the air and dance everywhere I go, and it also makes me want to sit down and think until my brain melts. I can't claim to know much of anything about how the universe works, but I do know that it's a large and beautiful and unknowably complex thing that never ceases to amaze me.
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