Blog posts from the ~edge~

For example, if I should paint my toenails green- and it just so happens I do paint them green- if anyone should ask me why, I'll say "because I had some free time and my roommate was away."

Music not-theatre Mondays: Silly love songs

We're shaking things up today! Instead of a piece of theatre, I'd like to talk about a different form of music: love songs. Okay, some of them are from musical theatre, but the unifying theme here is love songs. Songs about love. Silly love songs.

1.       You and I by Ingrid Michaelson

Oh yes, they're on this list.

This is a fairly simple love song, but what sets it apart- for me- is that we know who these people are, and we know people like them. We can tell that they’re young, fairly idealistic, and the type of people who want to set out and change the world. The simplicity of the vocals and instrumentals (pretty typical of Michaelson’s songs, I’ve found) really help- the melody is simple and sweet, and the lack of frills means we end up focusing much more on the lyrics- which are all about the nice things this couple wants to do together, with each other and with other people. "Let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France/Let's get rich and give everyone nice sweaters and teach them how to dance."

2.       Stray Italian Greyhound by Vienna Teng

I like this song because it covers a facet of love that I don't think gets covered very often- the scariness of it. Let's face it, love is scary! Sure it's also exhilitating and bubbly and giddy and all those things, but putting your emotional trust in another person is a pretty risky proposition. That's not to say it can't be a worthwhile one, but contemplating the idea isn't a thing of pure warm fuzzies.

I also love how much of a feel you get for the narrator here- someone who's been hurt before and is now confronting the idea of trusting and loving again. "But you had to come along, didn't you/Rev up the crowd, rewrite the rulebook/Where do I go when every no turns into maybe?"

She's Got You High by Mumm-Ra

This one just sounds so peaceful- like a lazy summer day. I know it's from (500) Days of Summer, which is avowedly Not A Love Story, but it's my list, and I'll include it if I want to. "What's this about? I figured love would shine through."

I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie

This song is . . . sort of dark, I guess? I mean, in terms of the fact that it discusses death and dying. But the lyrics never really feel "DARK! SO DARK!" to me. Death in this song is a sort of quiet, gentle thing: "when your soul embarks." It envisions the afterlife as a vacant motel and dying as a rest after a long life. It refutes the idea that love is fear and instead lets the narrator decide for himself what path he wants to follow. It's a sweet song. "Just our hands clasped so tight/Looking for the hint of a spark."

Elephant Love Medley - Moulin Rouge!

Of course this is on this list. Of course this is on this list, and you know why? Dollars to doughnuts, when you hear "silly love songs," you think of this instead of the Paul McCartney version. At least you do if you're of my generation. Thanks to this movie, an entire generation of girls grew up believing that being a courtesan gave you consumption and also required rolling around on the floor and squealing to get a guy. Oh Baz Lurhman, what have you wrought? (But seriously, I love this movie.) "

Faster - Matt Nathanson

I think what we're all learning from this list is that I love bubblegum pop, and I am not ashamed. And that's all I have to say about that. "You taste like sunlight/and strawberry bubble gum."

Born To Run - Bruce Springsteen

Someday I hope to write a Bonnie-and-Clyde-esque story of robbers on the run. And it will be adapted into a movie, and the song playing over every single scene will be this song. And I will know I have done well in this life. "I want to know if love is wild/Babe, I want to know if love is real."

The charming kook has left the building

16224 / 50000 words. 32% done!

In fairness, this is not the thousand words a day I promised when I first started working on this project. But I have been busy! Oh, how busy I have been. Running to classes, running from classes, running to meetings, running home to cook dinner, catching up on my readings from the class I just swapped into (protip: if ever you should switch classes after a semester starts, don't switch into an English class), visiting home, getting my computer fixed- well, you get the idea. And the upcoming week does not look any calmer- tomorrow I have two regular classes, one dance class, and one audition ending at eleven at night, and then I'm up again at nine the next morning for class. I feel a bit like that episode of Nostalgia Critic where he's screaming "I'M THE ADULT! I DO THE ADULT THINGS!"

I've arrived at a point in my novel now that I didn't expect to reach for at least several thousand more words- the main character's breakdown/panic attack. See, as I've mentioned, the narrator of the novel has OCD and takes medication to control it. It goes missing halfway through her roap trip, and what happens? Boom. Panic. I originally planned for this to be more around the middle of the book, but I've been restructuring the plot lately, and realized that my idea of the trip taking up two-thirds of the plot makes no sense. No one wants to read 30 000 words of getting on and off buses. So the panic attack comes just before the halfway point, and as such, I've been revisiting my own illness, reading over descriptions of what panic attacks feel like, and generally trying to get a sense of what's going on in my main character's head. Ironically enough, part of my inspiration came from the TV I've been watching lately.

I'm sorry, were you looking for the sweet, pliant
abuse victim/PTSD sufferer? WRONG NUMBER.

When I get back to my room at night, I'm generally too tired to read or write, so instead I flop on the couch and catch an hour of TV before I go to bed. My latest hour's worth of entertainment has been BBC America's Copper, a show which seems almost uniquely designed to appeal to me: it's a period drama, it's a diaspora story, it's about the underprivileged class that history generally ignores. Also it's kind of like Gangs of New York, but if the screenwriter had had a firmer grasp on the idea of "characterization."

At first glance, the show has exactly zip to do with my book, and honestly, it doesn't- different types of characters, different plots, a sad lack of telepaths. (I feel like every form of media could be improved with telepaths.) What impresses me so much about the show is the way it deals with mental illness, and specifically PTSD. It has two characters with obvious, overt symptoms, and several others who display more subdued reactions. It does well by them, I think- making sure they're sympathetic without turning them into victimized caricatures. And most importantly of all (to me) it says something that a lot of media surrounding mentally ill people never address: being mentally ill does not automatically make you a nice person.

We have a tendency, I think, to valorize those with mental illnesses- we have our Rain Mans and our I Am Sams and our Beautiful Minds where the lead might be crazy, but it's okay! They're a genius so that makes up for it. Or you'll get the Inspirationally Mentally Ill/Disabled character, who is so gosh-darn sweet and kind and self-sacrificing that you'd swear they escaped from a Candyland board. I understand why this happens- to most, disability and illness seem like terrible things, so they try to find some way of "fixing the afflicted," so to speak. They may hear voices, but they're so good at math! They may have flashbacks, but they're so stoic and hot! They may never be able to live independently, but they're so sweet and cuddly!

If the words "just get over it" leave your mouth,
I will shoot you in the EYE.

Except . . . no. No, that's not how it works, and I wouldn't want it to anyway. Making disabled or sick characters one-dimensional angels fails on a writing level- no one is a one-dimensional angel unless they're on an episode of Supernatural- and on a basic human level, because reducing us to that stereotype robs us of our basic humanity. The disabled are still human. We have bad days. Sometimes we cry. Sometimes we snap and yell at people. Sometimes we react to our problems badly and take it out on others. Sometimes we don't have good coping mechanisms. That's what makes us people. And disability does not rob us of our basic personhood. If you think that, you're a crappy writer, and also a pretty crappy person. And that- among other things- is part of what I'm trying to do with this book. People with disabilities and mental illnesses exist. Some of us are teenagers. Some of us are even on your YA bookshelves.

Until we meet again!

I'm afraid I don't have a wordcount to report today! Tuesdays are busy for me- I have to get up relatively early to catch a morning class, then an afternoon one, then discussion group, then bed. Somewhere in there, I cram in breakfast and dinner, and MAYBE lunch if I have time. So you can see how writing might fall by the wayside a bit.

Actually, that's what this post is about- writing in the near future, or the lack thereof. As much as I like blogging, school does have to come first, as do things like sleep and food. As my schedule stands, updating once a day just isn't feasible- especially as I also want to get some writing done in between school stuff. I'm not abandoning blogging altogether, but given what is and isn't feasible in terms of scheduling, I'll most likely be updating once or twice a week. Music theatre Mondays will still be a thing (especially since I can write them up over the weekend, when I have more free time) and I'll be poking my nose in to update y'all on the novel situation, but posting will be a bit sparse for the forseeable future.

Music theatre Mondays: The people called it ragtime

15627 / 50000 words. 31% done!

I have a weird sort of fascination with mediocre creative products. You can see it in my Goodreads reviews- when I like a book I'll leave a few lines of "yeah, I really enjoyed this," but if the book is bad- or has good points that unfortunately don't outweigh the bad ones, then I'll spend several paragraph citing examples and explaining why the book didn't work for me. I love reviews like that- both of my own work and of others'. "I liked it" or "I hated it" don't elucidate much about why the consumer liked or disliked; detailed reviews help readers understand whether or not they'll enjoy a product, and creators understand what did and didn't work in their creative process.

Which brings me to Ragtime.

Ragtime is based on a 1975 novel by E.L. Doctorow, which was also adapted into a movie in 1981, starring a young Samuel Jackson. It's a sort of modern-day Les Miserables, with the cast of thousands and the political backdrop. There are three families, none of whom (with the exception of Coalhouse Walker and his girlfriend Sarah) have names- they're just called Mother, Father, Tateh (which means "father") etc, because this is a Serious Allegorical Novel that Needs No Names. The book was adapted into a musical in 1998, and won multiple Tony Awards. It's playing now at the Shaw Festival, which is where I saw it. Upon seeing it, I came to the following conclusions:

1. The music is great! 
2. The script is terrible.

I can see very well where the problems came from- the book is a panorama of 1910s New York, much in the way that Les Miz covers a vast scope of French society of the 1800s. The problem is, the musical bites off far more than it can chew. It wants to tell a story about every single one of its characters and, in the alotted two and a half hour running time, manages to tell none of them. It wants to make a statement about American culture and the American Dream, but ultimately says nothing because they haven't had time to build to any kind of thematic conclusion. They stuff the stage with cameos from various historical figures- here's Henry Ford! Here's Evelyn Nesbit! Here's Emma Goldman!- but none of them have any real, long-lasting impact on the plot. With the possible exception of Booker T. Washington, who actually influences one of the characters' decisions, absolutely none of these people need to be here. They definitely don't need to have their own songs, which they all do. (Ironically enough, I think Washington is the only major figure without a song.) Some of this, from what I understand, is  a holdover from the novel- where Nesbit had a subplot involving Tateh's daughter (who also doesn't get a name)- but the fact is, she serves no purpose other than the Younger Brother character crushing on her and then throwing an entitled rich boy temper tantrum when she won't love him back. This character is possibly one of the most eminently punchable I've ever seen in musical theatre, second only to Roger Davis. (Oh believe me, I'll get to him one of these days.) "I'm rich! My sister's husband gave me a job! But Evelyn Nesbit won't love me! My life is empty and without meaning! Wahhh!"

The face of First World Problems

I find most of the rich family offputting for exactly this reason- they don't need to be here. It's amazing how much they don't need to be here. Their only purpose is to walk in and become the White Saviour characters for the audience to sympathize and identiy with, despite the fact that nothing in their background indicates that they would be this compassionate and non-racist. They exist to make the audience feel better about their grandpa who still cracks racist jokes. It's as simple as that. And considering how little connection these characters have to each other in general, we don't even need them around to tie everything together, because they just emphasize how little sense this story makes. Coalhouse comes off as massively selfish, since he abandons his son to become a terrorist; poor Sarah gets virtually no characterization before being stuffed in the fridge; Tateh bobs in and out of the story, undergoing massive development offstage; and the various historical figures, as I've said, have nothing to do with anything. So if the musical is so terrible, why am I so fascinated by it?

Well, I love the subject matter. Immigrant history fascinates me, especially urban immigrant history, especially in this time period. And for all that the musical fails so epically at tying their themes together, I do at least respect them for making the effort. It's not like I can't appreciate panorama stories; Gangs of New York is one of my favourite movies, and for similar reasons. But Ragtime is a musical, not a movie; it doesn't have the advantage of gorgeous cinematography and period detail to capture the audience. So what does it have?

Well . . . the music is amazing. Really, truly amazing. I have a good chunk of the soundtrack on my iPod, and  I listen to it regularily. For all that the historical figures don't need to be in the show, they have some of the best numbers. I could happily play "Crime of the Century" or "Henry Ford" or "The Night That Goldman Spoke at Union Square" for hours. "Wheels of a Dream" is beautiful and heartbreaking. The Prologue is breathtaking, even if it does take TEN MINUTES to introduce everyone. I challenge you to listen to this and not want to jump out of your seat and dance. (Although: what's up with the choreography? You've got this big showstopping number, and you . . . have the actors stand in a circle and stomp their feet? Come on, guys.)

But most of all, I think I really just respect the authors for trying. Did they succeed? No, not in my opinion. But I have a lot of respect for people who are willing to make the effort to shine a light on some little-known parts of history. Even if it does mean watching John Hinckley up there whine about how he can't get in Evelyn Nesbit's drawers.

"And now I'm going home"

14915 / 50000 words. 30% done!

I'm back! And apparently a weekend off was what I needed in the first place, because my wordcount is once again happily rising. I have my outlines back, and I'm tinkering with them a bit, thinking about story structure and character development and all those good things. I've had some ideas for extending the plot (which was, as it stood, bound to fall short of the necessary wordcount) and the characters are developing un ways that are new and exciting and making me happy. Progress all around!

As part of my weekend off, I a) lounged around the house and watched movies with my mother (The Holiday; it wasn't a masterpiece, but it also wasn't a half-bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon) and b) I went to a local concert in Gage Park. The performer, Heather Dale, has been a favourite of mine for quite some time- I believe I originally heard of her via Tamora Pierce's blog, where she linked to Dale's song "One Of Us" Since Dale is, happily, local to me, I got to see her perform (yay!) and get her autograph (double yay!) Her music is in a genre- Celtic folk- that I've always been fond of, which I guess is no surprise, given that I'm the granddaughter of Scottish immigrants. Possibly it's foolish, but I like feeling connected to my heritage- even if it is just by listening to "Mordred's Lullaby" on repeat. (Yes I know Mordred wasn't Scottish. Shhh.) I've only been to Scotland twice- once when I was two, and as such don't remember a minute of it, and once a few years ago as a post-graduation celebration. It's a bit of a weird experience- neither sides of my family (Scottish on my dad's, French-German on my mom's) have stayed especially connected to their ancestor's culture, but for whatever reason, that's only made me more determined to hold on to it. Culture's a bit of a weird beastie like that- I think the further away you are from the source of it, the more invested you are in keeping it. Maybe it gives you an illusion of belonging to something, although I don't really see it as illusory. Whatever community you're in, it forms part of you're identity. I'm not advocating for subsuming yourself into the group for the greater good (THE GREATER GOOOOOD) but I think for a lot of people- myself included- nationality and culture represent a sort of semi-family, something you're born into and choose to take or leave as you get older.

Whew. Heavy stuff for a Sunday night. But the section I just wrote had the two main characters discussing community and family, so in an odd way, it all comes back around. Here's a little bit of back-and-forth for you:

“But-” I shook my head. “Of course you need to worry about other people. Don’t you want friends? Family?”
“Of course,” she said impatiently, waving a fry in the air for emphasis. “But I don’t need to rely on them, is the thing. I never need to rely on anyone. Even if people take off, it doesn’t matter, because I can still take care of myself. No matter what.”
I stared at her. “That’s really what you want?”
She shrugged. “Nothing to do with want. It’s just how things are.”

What to sing when you have nothing to say

14015 / 50000 words. 28% done!

Guess who left all her outlines at school? This girl! So I probably won't get much writing done this weekend, at least not with the novel proper- instead I'll be catching up on my reading, and maybe write some pre-novel vignettes to get more of a feel for the characters. In the meantime, I thought I'd do something fun. 

Like most writers, I listen to music while I'm working- it occupies the parts of my brain that aren't focused on the words (so I don't get bored or restless) and helps me get in the mood for what I want to write. Since I don't have much in the way of content to show y'all today, I thought I'd share some of my writing playlist instead. The songs don't necessarily relate to the book in a thematic sense, although some of them do- they just have a feel and rhythm that puts me in a mindspace to write these characters and this setting.

Plus, they're just really kickass songs.

Run - Snow Patrol

Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men

Wake Up - Arcade Fire

Raise Hell - Brandi Carlile

No Rest For The Wicked - Cage the Elephant

Phenomena - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Radioactive - Marina and the Diamonds

Helplessness Blues - Fleet Foxes

Use Somebody - Kings of Leon

Consequence - The Notwist