Spring Hopeful

Does anyone else experience that overwhelming sense of exuberance when the spring weather hits?  Do you feel your optimism start to climb, your overall feeling of happiness start to increase, and your desire to get out and do things expand exponentially? 

Before I go any further, yes, I am perfectly aware that it is only January, and because the weather in Pullman is notorious for throwing its residents some killer curve balls (anyone else remember the snow day in June?) I have no doubt in my mind that winter won't go down without a fight.  But as often as I tell myself this uncharacteristic glimpse of spring weather is too good to be true, I can't help but get my hopes up that I'll be relieved of the winter doldrums even sooner than expected this year.

I think in my past life I must have been a bear.  Well, maybe that's stretching things a bit, but they're the only animal I can think of off-hand that go into a state of hibernation through the winter months.  Sometimes I feel that's what I do.  During the winter I do what it takes to survive, but my productivity level is noticably lower.  It's harder to get up in the morning because the sun doesn't come out until after 7 a.m., and what is even worse is looking out my office window at 3:45 in the afternoon and watching the sun start to sink behind the hills.  But in the spring and summer months it's suddenly not so hard to wake up at 6 a.m. because I can see the sunlight already streaming through my window.  I can go for a run on my lunch hour because there isn't five feet of snow on the ground to keep me barricaded indoors, and when the sun is still out when it's time to go home.....well, then the possibilities are endless.

I know for a fact that I'm not the only person who feels this way, in fact it's probably difficult to go out and find someone who doesn't enjoy the weather in the springtime more than they do the winter.  But I honestly find it amazing that weather can affect our overall state of being to such a degree.  For me I think the attitude is partially linked to softball.  Nothing could beat the feeling of finally getting outside on the field after months in the gym playing basketball.  The spring and summer months were all about softball games, tournaments, road trips, and all the other little things that go along with organized athletics.  Even though my days of competitive softball are in the past, by the time March rolls around I still get the feeling that I should be outside with my glove, warming up my arm and getting ready for batting practice.  I guess old habits die hard.

I hope the rest of you are feeling as inspired as I am right now.  Right now it's 4:19 p.m. in Pullman and there is still daylight outside, so in my world, things are looking up.    

The End of Good TV

I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that practically every night, each and every one of us sits down in front of the television with the vain hope of being entertained for at least an hour....two if we're lucky.  I'm not a good TV watcher.  First of all, I can't sit still for very long, I always feel like I need to be up doing other things.  My usual TV watching pattern consists of picking a station, watching for a few minutes, then getting up to either put away the dishes, put away some laundry, or just get up to walk around and see if there's anything else in my house that needs doing.  So by the end of a regular 1/2 hour show, I've maybe watched a total of 10 minutes. 

However, there are those times, usually in the evening, when I feel just lazy enough to actually sit down and watch a program from beginning to end.  And it was recently during one of these lazy interludes that I came to the shocking, almost horrifying conclusion that there is absolutely nothing worth watching on TV anymore.  No, wait, the Thursday night lineup on NBC may be the only exception to this rule (Parks and Rec has pleasantly surprised me with its humor and entertainment value, and I will forever love The Office).  That being said, any other night of the week one is usually forced to wade through the atrocity which is mistakenly called Reality Television.  Now don't get me wrong, I will usually pay attention to American Idol (once the actual competition starts....I really have no desire to watch the try outs where people make complete fools of themselves and then are absolutely dumbfounded when the judges inform them that, believe it or not, their voice sound like crap).  But I want someone to tell me, really and truly, where did all the good TV shows go?

Some of the classics are still hanging strong.  The Simpsons just aired their 450th episode a couple weeks ago, The Office is lingering at least for the foreseeable future, and if you enjoy a good murder mystery every now and then you can still indulge in Law and Order.  But seriously people, on the whole TV is going through a serious downfall and I fear there is nothing we can do to save it.  And I'm not just talking about prime time.  Have you taken a look at what is playing on MTV these days?  News flash:  music videos are not on the docket, instead you have to suffer through riveting, drama filled episodes of timeless classics such as Bully Beatdown, Jersey Shore, and one of my all time favorites, Parental Control.  If this is reality, then we officially live in the Twilight Zone.

My husband says that I'm a TV snob, which might be true.  And I don't plan on backing down from my standards anytime soon.  I wish the American public would do the same, but it's quite possible that the glory days of TV are gone.  Now and for the rest of your days, you will have to be content with watching people lose weight, act bitchy to each other on deserted islands, and compete with other men and women to win the hearts of Bachelors and Bachelorettes.  Me....I'll be rewatching my DVD's of Seinfeld.    

Writing About Writing

Growing up, my parents gave me a typewriter that they used when they were in college.  I thought it was one of the coolest things ever, because you could actually flip a switch and the macine would go from typing in black ink, to red ink.  I know, I was easily impressed.  But I would sit up in my room, and just type stories.  I would type stories that I had thought up on my own, and sometimes I would type out stories I had read myself hundreds of times, almost reiterating them word for word.  I had my own little folder where I saved these literary masterpieces, knowing that someday the words would be published.

Flash forward to present day.  I no longer do my writing on a typewriter, althought I am wondering if revisiting that childhood medium will help make writing any easier.  I would say over the last, oh, maybe 8 years of my life I have written some pretty good stuff.  I can think of a couple stories in particular that have some real potential.  However, lately I have felt myself slipping.  No matter what anyone says, writing is hard.  It is hard to look at a blank computer screen and fill it with words.  No wait, scratch that, it is hard to fill the screen with words and have those words be compelling, interesting, and make sense.  Interesting writing is hard. 

Why is it that I used to be able to just sit down, write anything and everything that came to mind, and not worry about how it sounded, or if my sentences were in the right tense, or if my main character was becoming too predicable.  When did I lose that sense of not caring?  I mean, I have always cared about my writing but I never cared so much to the point where I was afraid to even try because I didn't want to fail.  There, I said it.  Fail.  The one thing I absolutely do not want to do.  I care so much that I have literally stopped because I don't want to do a crappy job.  And I think all writers go through this at some point.  I have to tell myself this because to think that I might be the only one is just too depressing to bear.

The thing is, when I actually do write, and I slip into that zone, that zone where the dialogue between the characters is practically writing itself, and I know exactly when and where the next plot twist needs to take place, it's during those moments that I feel.....alive.  It's just plain exhilerating.  But sometimes it only lasts a few pages, and then the fingers tapping the keys slow down, then stop altogether, and I stare at the screen and what I've just written and know that I've lost whatever momentum I had going.  But you see it's those moments, those breakthroughs that make all the blank screens, bad descriptions, and predictable story lines worth it.  Because in those moments I am creating, I am making things happen, I am producing INTERESTING WRITING!! 

I don't think that fear will ever completely leave me.  But there's something about the creative process that manages to trump those fears and doubts that plague me from time to time.  I'm not sure how to recapture the essence of that little girl, sitting up in her room, feeding sheet after sheet into the typewriter, maybe that time has come and gone.  But I know that little girl, who saved all those stories with the dream of one day being published, I know she wasn't just entertaining improbable fantasies.  I still have that goal, that desire, so I kind of feel like it's up to me now to make it happen.  No pressure, huh?

In the beginning there was Stephen King.....

I was in middle school when I read my first Stephen King novel.  Maybe a bit young by some standards, but I was quickly outgrowing the young adult literature and felt up to a bigger challenge.  I happened to be at the public library one afternoon in the summer, and finally took the big step across the room into the shelves of Adult Fiction.  It felt like a graduation of sorts for me, and I knew exactly what I was looking for. 

My friend's older brother was an avid Stephen King fan, and he was always trying to scare us by describing the stories in all their gory details.  Because I was already mesmerized by the horror genre, I knew that I had to experience Stephen King for myself.  From the shelves I pulled down the massive hardcover edition of "Needful Things," a novel that was not well received by critics but became a national bestseller nonetheless.  That afternoon I sat down in the living room and began reading.  I was instantly hooked.  The writing was superb and the story was like nothing I had ever heard or imagined before.  I slowly began making my way through the Stephen King collection, although nearly 14 years later I am still not done.  That summer I completed "Needful Things," "The Tommyknockers," as well as "IT," a challenge in itself seeing as the book is over 1,000 pages long. 

There is not doubt that Stephen King has one of the largest fan bases in the world.  His writing has been entertaining people since the 1960s, and every year new readers emerge who become enraptured and start on a quest to read all the books from start to finish.  I think what I love the most about King is that he is, above all else, a storyteller.  There are so many aspects to writing:  character development, descriptions, dialogue, so many ingredients that need to work together or the end product turns out to be less than desirable.  While King does all this and more, at his core he tells stories that are, well, amazing.  Okay, to be fair, not all his books are out-of-this-world fantastic (I'm thinking of "Christine".....), but even the below par ones have a story that has never been told in that particular fashion.

I think that is what I struggle with in my own writing.  Sure, there are ideas, but they are ideas that hundreds of thousands of people have already written about.  They're not new, and I struggle to find ways to make them relevant.  Then I look at a writer like King and what he does with these books, and it just blows your mind.  Well, it blows my mind.  I think what King has mastered above all else is the art of the story.  Whether it's a novel or a short story, he can captivate like no other.

I have read and re-read King's books, and anytime I am on a quest to purchase new books I always head to his section on the bookshelf.  In a way, I almost hope I am never able to completely read all his books, because (and I'm sure fellow King fans can agree), knowing that there is a new story out there that could potentially become one's favorite Stephen King book.....well, that's an almost priceless feeling.

The Passion of a Reader

I decided to use this blog as the opportunity to discuss one of my most beloved and enjoyable pasttimes:  reading.  I have been an avid reader pretty much since birth, and I will read anything from mystery/thrillers, to biographies, to historical fiction, and everything in-between.  It saddens me to realize that not many people read for fun anymore.  Maybe they never did, but it sure seemed like it.  Of course, everyone has to read in school; it's a requirement.  When I started taking English classes at WSU I was in absolute heaven.  I was surrounded by students just like me, who actually went home at night and read books that were not assigned reading!  Sure, we could sit and discuss Wuthering Heights, John Milton, and Shakespeare, but then we could switch gears and share our views on the latest book by Dan Brown, Tom Wolffe, and Gabriel Garcia Marquez. 

My most favorite place in Pullman is the little used bookstore downtown called Brused Books.  Hundreds of thousands of books on the shelves, tall, looming bookcases, and a creaky hardwood floor all combine to create (at least for me), a most delightful shopping experience.  Everytime I go in the store I feel such a sense of enthusiasm.  All these books.....just waiting to be read.  I know, I know, it's completely and utterly dorky, but when you love and enjoy something this much it just doesn't matter how dorky it is.  When I was a student at WSU I interviewed for a job at the Student Rec Center.  One of the questions they asked me in this interview was, "What would be your dream job?"  I had never in my life stopped to think about that question, because at that point in my life work was not about finding the perfect job, it was about finding a job, ANY job, to pay the rent, pay bills and go grocery shopping.  So you can imagine my surprise when after not even a moment's hesitation I replied, "To own a used bookstore."  This is a moment that has stuck with me, and it honestly felt as if a light suddenly clicked on in my head.  Sure, I love writing and I will never give up on the idea that I can do it for a living someday, but I had never thought I could transfer that love of reading into some kind of a career, nor that I even wanted to.

I think that those who truly know what they want and know how to achieve it are a blessed few.  I am certain that I know what I want to do with my life, and am consistenly working on the achievement part of the equation.  But in the meantime, I have Brused Books, the endless supply of pages filled with words, and the sound of a well worn creaky floor to keep rejuvinating my enthusiasm.  

New Year, Same Me

Roughly eight days ago millions of people around the world rang in the New Year with food, champagne, friends, and a feeling of renewal.  There's always such a profound sense of excitement in that minute before the huge ball drops in Times Square, isn't there?  I always find myself with such a sense of anticipation, as if the dropping of the ball and the ticking of the clock over to midnight will bring about this immense change in everything, and in myself.  Of course, this is all wishful thinking.  Ringing in the New Year is not synonymous to instantaneous change, because at 12:01 a.m. on January 1, 2010, things were exactly the same for me as they had been at 11:59 p.m. on December 31, 2009.

Maybe it's the pessimist in me that wants to dwell on this fact, or perhaps I'm just being a realist.  But I don't think that a new year automatically means things will be any different for anyone.  The fact of the matter is, one has to decide to make things different for themselves.  Which brings us to those lovely little sentiments known as New Year's Resolutions.  I don't always make resolutions, because I don't like to put myself in the mind set that I have to wait for the New Year to decide to make changes in my life.  And yet it is tempting.....a new year, a clean slate, a chance to do things differently right off the bat.  So this year I allowed myself to make not so much some resolutions, but more or less some rules to live by.  They are as follows:

1.  Attempt to be less judgemental of others and their actions (I say attempt because being judgemental is a part of human nature, and I seriously doubt I could ever stop it completely).

2.  Write every day.  Whether it is on this blog, in my journal, on a short story, or a grocery list (okay, that's stretching it). 

3.  Stop feeling bad about things I think I "should" be doing, especially if I know I don't enjoy them.

4.  Stop judging myself on things that have happened in my past, and focus only on the future.

It's a short list, but one which I think makes sense for me and will contribute greatly to my overall happiness.  In all honesty I have not officially started these resolutions.  Until today they have just been thoughts floating around in my mind, but now that they're in writing it somehow feels more official.  So I guess today is the day......and at the moment I'm off to a pretty good start.