Links! and a reminder

First the reminder: this Sunday is Pentecost! Wear red to church and cook something spicy (to remember the flames of fire).  :)  And, more than that, pray and read a gospel passage. As a professor of mine taught me, the Holy Spirit always points us to Christ. Look where He's pointing.

Okay, on to the links:

- "Don't Make Fun of the Renowned Dan Brown":

The critics said his writing was clumsy, ungrammatical, repetitive and repetitive. They said it was full of unnecessary tautology. They said his prose was swamped in a sea of mixed metaphors. For some reason they found something funny in sentences such as “His eyes went white, like a shark about to attack.” They even say my books are packed with banal and superfluous description, thought the 5ft 9in man. He particularly hated it when they said his imagery was nonsensical. It made his insect eyes flash like a rocket.

- "How to Root for Captain Kirk": Every month or so, my husband and I have some friends over to watch Star Trek. We worked our way through all the movies, and now we're watching the Original Series. Which made me the right audience for this article: I find Kirk both unlikeable and a heck of a lot of fun to watch. This article goes a long way towards explaining why, for being a jerk, he's still such a compelling character.

- And if you want more Star Trek goodness, Slate has been publishing a bunch of great articles about the franchise this week. Here's one: "The Top Six Star Trek Mistakes".

- "Enhanced Motion Detection in Autism May Point to Underlying Cause of the Disorder": well, wow.

-"Will Your First Book Be Published?": I love the Books & Such blog for just this kind of practical and insightful article.

-"PB sermon turns silk purse into sow’s ear": I just can't even . . .

- "Tragic Worship":

The psalms as the staple of Christian worship, with their elements of lament, confusion, and the intrusion of death into life, have been too often replaced not by songs that capture the same sensibilities—as the many great hymns of the past did so well—but by those that assert triumph over death while never really giving death its due. The tomb is certainly empty; but we are not sure why it would ever have been occupied in the first place.

Only the dead can be resurrected. As the second thief on the cross saw so clearly, Christ’s kingdom is entered through death, not by escape from it. Traditional Protestantism saw this, connecting baptism not to washing so much as to death and resurrection. Protestant liturgies made sure that the law was read each service in order to remind the people that death was the penalty for their sin. Only then, after the law had pronounced the death sentence, would the gospel be read, calling them from their graves to faith and to resurrection life in Christ. The congregants thereby became vicarious participants in the great drama of salvation.

Real Life and Fiction

My characters aren't me. (Except when I write fan-fiction. Then the heroine is totally me.)

But, in my professional fiction, the characters aren't me. It's fun to write about someone else, someone entirely made up, and see how real I can make her. I ask myself, "Who would find herself in this situation?" Or, better yet, "In this situation, what sort of person would have the hardest time?" Because that person, of course, would also have the most room to grow.

Still, despite the fact that my characters aren't me, I usually find part-way through a book project that I've ended up giving them problems I'm puzzling through in my own life.

Like now. I'm writing about two people falling in love and trying to avoid being killed at the same time. So not where I am in my own life, right? I'm happily fallen already and, thank God, no one's trying to kill me.

But when I look past the big plot points - the new romance and the murders that are inherent in the genre and that provide the momentum for the story - I find that both my hero and heroine are mulling over what it means to be a real grown-up.

What does it mean when you get past thirty, and you've made your first big mistakes and - more than that - have survived them and become your adult self? what then?

What happens when you're old enough to assess your character because you finally have enough character that it can be assessed?

What does maturity look like when you can't hope to be really mature, really wise, for decades yet, if ever - but you're still a grown-up, and you can't get away from that fact? (And you don't even want to get away from it, because being a grown-up is good.)

What do you do when you are old enough to look back at your younger self and wince at her mistakes, but are too far past those mistakes to really have any chance of fixing them?

When you're old enough to have a real self, and young enough that that real self isn't really mature yet, isn't wise, isn't done? When you've got a good idea of your responsibilities, and and even better idea of your limits? When you know your best isn't going to be enough, but that not giving your best would be unconscionable?

That you are not enough, but that no one else can be you.

When you finally understand that some disasters really are disasters, when you know how you could have prevented the ones in the past, but are just as sure that you won't be able to prevent the ones in the future?

How do you gather yourself together and decide to go on, trusting the Lord, doing your best, knowing you'll fail, knowing that failure isn't going to be a sufficient excuse for giving up?

Yes, apparently I am wondering about all of these things - and finding my answers - and all of it in a story that isn't about me.

Nope, not at all.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

Daybook for May 13, 2013

outside my window . . . it is HOT. But so bright and lovely, I almost don't mind.

I am listening to . . . Nothing. But I should put something on, because I have Jonathan Coulton's "I feel fantastic" going round and round my brain and I think it's time for a new track.

I am wearing . . . shorts and a t-shirt. Nothing spectacular for, lo, it is Laundry Day.

I am so grateful for . . . my family. It's the end of the school year, and pretty much everyone in my family - on both sides - is somehow connected to academia, so everyone's stressed, but . . . we're all okay. And I'm grateful.

I'm pondering . . . the life of Dallas Willard. I'm so grateful for the work he did and am praying for his family, who must miss him very much.

I am reading . . . TOO MANY THINGS. Again, some more.

I am creating . . . I'm doing heavy edits on a novel, and really enjoying seeing the story that's growing stronger in the middle of the mess.

around the house . . . it's about time to switch the girls' clothes out for the next size up. Such a big chore . . . but so satisfying when it's done!

from the kitchen . . . watermelon and strawberries FTW! I love SoCal.

the church year in our home . . . this weekend we went on an Ascension Day hike with some friends from church. It was lovely! We decided that we probably want to make hiking a regular church activity, and I'm excited at the prospect of getting outside regularly with the people I worship with.

recent milestones . . . I turned Celebrating the Church Year at Home in to the publisher. I think it's good, you guys. The authors did such good work, and when it's done, it's going to be a book you can open at any time of the year and find the exact information you need to celebrate whatever season you're in. It's very readable, and very dense with ideas and inspiration. I'm excited. :)

the week ahead . . . editing the novel! trying not to die of heat stroke!

picture thought . . . my dad and me at the top of the Ascension Day hike:

Links - Habits, Hospitals, and more

"Choosing the Right Habits":

As you know, I am a big proponent of life-change through habit. I thought this quote was good for emphasizing how the "right" habits are not one-size-fits-all, and how "good" choices can have hidden costs.

"Opening Questions to Bad Conversations": a sampling from this painfully fun blog:

"Do you know where the morgue is?"

 "Wait, how many pills did you give him?"

 "Does the patient have any family you think might be likely to sue?"

"Oh, so this was the patient you were talking about?"

"Cheer Up!" and Other Obnoxious Advice:

If Jesus could be sad, and say he was sad, without sin, then so can we.

The word count limit fails to allow me to list the giants of the Faith who made “bad confessions” from Abraham to David to Paul. Great Christians have become great by admitting their pain, exposing it, giving it to God, and then being transformed. C.S. Lewis wrote “A Grief Observed” after all not “A Grief Unconfessed” and Mother Teresa journaled on her doubts and acted on her faith.

Her confession was her life. 

"Come Away With Me":

Tracking spiritual growth is difficult. Maybe we’re not meant to “track” it as though it were the Prime Interest Rate. Becoming more holy seems to happen when we’re not looking. Like the tiny wood anemone I saw yesterday as I sat on a bench in the woods. It is so diminutive it is barely noticeable. Suddenly your eyes focus and there it was all along. 

Rewatching "Once Upon a Time"

The first season of "Once Upon a Time" is on Netflix, and I'm indulging myself with a rewatch.

Guys, I'm having so much fun. 

I love how the writers had the guts to actually state their themes. Over and over again, you hear the characters say:


"You always have a choice"

OR

"I will find you. I will always find you."

OR

"Any curse can be broken."

OR (the biggest theme?):

"Magic always comes with a price."

I love, first, that the show has such strong themes, and I'm just in awe of the boldness of the writers in actually putting these themes into words and then actually putting the words into their characters' mouths and - most of all - totally getting away with it.

Because it works. I don't know how it works, but it works. And I really, really want to learn how they're doing what they're doing so that I can do it myself.


Actually, I take that back: I think I do know why it works.

It works because the characters' actions back up their words.

"Magic always comes with a price," intones Mr. Gold, over and over and over again. But you see that truth in the plot line every time he says it. Someone uses magic - takes the impossible solution - but they pay for their power. They pay for it by losing a child or losing a relationship or losing a valued object or - most strikingly of all - by losing their integrity. You hear the theme stated, but only after you see it play out.

Come to think of it, it's also a method that fits the genre. "Once Upon a Time" is a take on fairy tales, and fairy tales and fables have traditionally come attached to a moral-of-the-story.

The one exception
In the story the writers are telling, the only theme more important than "magic always comes with a price" seems to be: "True love conquers all". And as far as I can remember, no one ever actually says this. The closest anyone comes is Prince Charming, with his refrain of "I will find you; I will always find you."

But it does seem to be implicit: it's the whole theme behind Emma, the main character. She's saving the world, and she can do it because 1) she's the product of true love, and 2) she has true, unselfish, sacrificial love for her son. All the other lessons of fairyland seem to be warnings: be careful, you can choose that, you can take any path you want, but you'll pay for it later . . . except for the lesson of Emma. Which is: true love conquers all.


But maybe, being a Disney product, you're just supposed to get that. Maybe it's the one theme they don't have to state. Maybe it's the one that's so true, so good, so important, that it can just be shown.

Not a conclusion I'm completely satisfied with  - I'm interested to see where this goes, as I continue my rewatch.

But, boy, I'm enjoying myself.

-Jessica Snell

Links: Routines, Book Covers, Bathrooms, and more

"Learning to Love What Must Be Done":

Once we have created a workable routine, another challenges becomes clear. How do we maintain momentum, energy, stability and peace? At least part of the answer comes from Goeth: we should love those things we must do. Once our daily tasks become beloved tasks, the routine become less routine. This, I believe, is something we can pass on to our children, like an attitude, for Goethe is encouraging a mindset not an activity. If they see some measure of joy as we cook, clean, mow and repair, they are apt to find it easier to love (in a manner of speaking) clearing their plates, bathing and doing homework. Strange as it is, they usually grow up to be like us.

"FOLLOW THE HEART: Behind the Cover with Designer Kirk DouPonce" - a step-by-step look at how a book cover is designed - fascinating stuff!

"The Theology of the Bathroom": I can't pull out just one quotation from this one, I'm sorry, but it had me helplessly amused, and thanking God for Simcha Fisher. Because: yes. Very much yes.

"Severus Snape Does Not Deserve Your Pity":

Can I say this out loud? Well… here it goes: it really bugs me when people get all weepy about Severus Snape and his somber, torturous tale. As a Harry Potter fan I usually keep this to myself because Snape fans are a little rabid and also he’s played by Alan Rickman on film, and speaking poorly of any Rickman-played character is probably a criminal offense in most countries.

But it really does bother me. And maybe not for the reasons you would assume.

"Helpless and Vulnerable":

Having to live in this season has made me realize that I still have choices to make within it. How am I going to react to these feelings? I could choose to ignore my vulnerability, shoving it away from me in denial, putting on the brave face to act tough and strong. Or I can be truly brave and let my vulnerability affect me. I can let it open me up to my deeper feelings of grief and fear—yes—but also feelings of compassion, tenderness and love.

Book Notes: "Fragments", by Dan Wells

Fragments by Dan Wells
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

An enjoyable sequel to the post-apocalyptic YA novel "Partials", my favorite part of "Fragments" was the setting. After introducing us to the war-and-disease ravaged city of New York in the first book, Dan Wells dives even further into his world-building as we follow the heroine, Kira, on a desperate search across the abandoned and decayed United States.

I loved seeing both how consistent and how novel the world in this story was. Consistent, because all the destruction followed logically given the disasters of the plot, and novel because the disaster had affected all the different parts of the country in different ways. After being introduced to the looted and overgrown city of New York in the first book, this time we got to see the half-sunken city of Chicago and the acid-rain decayed metropolis of Denver and all the crazy countryside in between. Loved it!

In the beginning I didn't care as much about the mystery of the plot as the main characters did, which was too bad, but it was still interesting enough to push the story along, and it really picked up steam by the end. Meanwhile, I was enjoying the tour of the re-imagined United States too much to abandon the story. I think the third book will probably take us back to New York, but I have a kind of forlorn hope that for some reason the characters will have to cross the Pacific or Atlantic in order to find out the result of the plague on other continents. I'd love to see what Wells would do there.

View all my reviews

-Jessica Snell