It Builds Character

Have you ever had to do something you don't want to only to have another person suggest you do it anyway, saying if anything, it will "help build character"?

Well, I built character. I had to go to a murder mystery to do it.

I was expecting human checkers, only the Clue version with costumes. It was a Hollywood theme murder mystery and I was to be the social-climbing younger sister of a movie star who was murdered later that evening. More importantly, it was a fund-raising event to help find a cure for cancer.

Anyway, my character was somewhat disliked by the others. Three times I was asked to leave while people were talking. The other movie stars looked at me and whispered. I was accused of being a murderer. It felt like high school all over (except the last bit).

ps - If you are currently in high school, hang in there. Things get better. Sooo much better.

The worst part is, I left my purse in the car. I didn't have a book with me, not even a pen. I was officially stuck in the here and now.

With all due respect to everyone who had been there (friends who are much better actors than myself) and the good intentions of the evening, I just didn't like it. I think it was the gossip, but I got ridiculously upset. To my credit, I pretended I was having fun. aka You can control the number of times you smile in a day - Perhaps I resembled a territorial primate ;) (if this paragraph sounds crazy, see last post).

You know what? It was good for me. By the second half of the evening, I convinced myself to have a bit more fun (although I ran for the car when it was time to go). I even figured out the murderer - The Guy with the Fake Mullet.

Here is The Best Part: In my imaginary world, there is this close-knit group of selkies that have refused to talk to me. Perhaps they saw me looking pathetic and decided to throw me a bone, because they have started chattering like crazy. One even let me know why they stayed quiet for so long.

Finally! I get to the point:

Even though a character my not be the most important person in your story, they should be the most important person in their own.

Why couldn't I get the selkies to talk to me?

I wasn't taking them seriously. I wanted to make them that character you could pass in the street and say something like, "Well, hello there. I see you're a selkie."

"Why yes, you're right."

Life's not like that. Consider the selkie rules: In stories, the selkie is most predominant as the selkie bride. In the water, the selkie is a seal. However, they can come on land, remove their skins and walk around as a human.

If a human male finds her skin and hides it, she is immediately his (generally, his wife). So long as the skin is hidden, she will be a good wife and mother. If she ever finds it though, she's gone. No matter what connections she has formed, she will return to the sea. Sometimes she will approach the shore to visit her children, but she doesn't stay.

So what does it mean to be a selkie?

• Never trusting anyone. Even a woman can't be trusted. What if she is only your friend so she can find your skin for a male friend or family member?

• If you become a selkie wife, it is probably difficult to make friends with the other women in town (I only had to put up with it for an evening. Imagine a lifetime).

• Once you have children or even if you just care about your human husband, there would be fear of angering him or of him falling in love with another woman. If he wants you out of the house, all he has to do is leave your seal skin out in plain sight.

• Are there even any rules about the number of selkies one might collect? Could a person steal a bunch of skins and have more than one selkie wife? Keep them as servants? Sell them on the black market?

• If I were a selkie longing for the sea, I know I would be afraid of a house fire. I also wouldn't want any company in the house in case someone terrible would steal my seal skin.

• What of the selkie lover left behind (if there is one) or children? Does anyone ever come to help you escape? Not even friends and family? Do they wait for you to return? Do they go on with their lives? Does the human husband kill them to prevent any unwanted rescues or to make the search for your skin futile since there would be no one to return to?

These are only a few ponderings that struck me in the moment. I'm sure many more pass through the minds of selkie brides than those above. Even though they are only briefly visited in my story, I think I had a chance to get to know a few selkie women better and for who they are, rather than for what they could do for me.

I don't care if it sound silly. Wishing I had a book or something (Anything!) to take me to a different situation gave me a small taste of what it would be like to be a selkie, longing for her skin.

Oh, and are there more murder mysteries in my future? Probably. I might even surprise myself and have some fun.

Character built?

Check and Check.

Do / say / write / the hard thing (Part II)

Quote of the Day:

"One day, you will conquer the world, but for now, you don't know how to send a letter."

- My Friend

This is the point I tried to make in last week's post: Its easy to do the easy thing. Its not always easy to do the right thing. For the entire week, I've wanted to retract that statement, but didn't bother since this is also the week I learned you can't erase your RSS feeds on Google Reader. C'est la vie.

I wanted to switch to: Its easy to do the easy thing. Its impossible to do the right thing.

Highlights:

While driving, I saw a girl (my age) run to catch a bus, trip and fall flat on her face. The contents of her purse spilled all over the sidewalk and she missed her bus. I thought, "Here is where you should do something nice," and slowed down. I waited for her to walk up and realized she was walking slow, waiting for me to leave. Okay, city people don't give strangers rides, got it.

I got a letter in the mail - my handwriting. I had sent someone a thank-you letter, only I had put my address in the Send To section of the envelope, not the Return Address section. I appear thankless. Resend.

Today started with me reading Victoria Lynn Schmidt's 45 Master Characters and finding my character archetype (although not a bang-on match) is The Maiden (but I don't Want to be a Maiden. I WANT to be an Amazon!), and ended with me blasting myself in the throat with a spray hose in a barn (think gentler than a pressure washer, but it would beat a garden hose in a fight).

It was coming to where I thought I would just add a, "That's What She Said," in a comment on the title and say I wanted to be naughty. There. Didn't worry about what others thought while paying homage to The Office.

Then it happened:

Mild scolding in a meeting led to me stand up for myself.

Was it exhilarating?

No.

Do I feel shorter?

Yes.

But I stood up for myself. Boy was it hard, but not impossible.

Do / say / write / the hard thing

There is a saying: .... well, I can't type it out in any semblance of order, so I'll give you the gist of it: Sometimes we are given choices in life but are not sure which one is the right decision. Chances are, the choice requiring the most difficult undertaking is the answer.

- Not always -

For example, programming your VCR. The most difficult undertaking would involve not reading the manual. The right choice is probably to read the instructions, otherwise don't come crying to me - actually, even if you have read the manual, don't come crying to me. Well... you can come crying, just don't expect me to do anything about it. Technology and I don't mesh well (the force is not strong with this one).

Anyway, here is my point: its easy to do the easy thing. Its not always easy to do the right thing.

They (the same people who use the opening saying I couldn't articulate) say that hard thing, those words you are too shy or polite or stubborn to say out loud are probably what you need to write down.

I am attempting to apply this to not only my story, but everyday life. We only get one chance and one day, I don't want to look back and see all I ever did was the easy thing - My husband would probably argue I make everything difficult ;)

As a kid, I was taught if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. For the most part, I stick to this. However, there are times where logistically, this does not make sense.

So I challenge you: some time in the next week, do that thing you've been putting off, that thing you know won't be easy but you're dying to try (and deep down inside you know you probably should). I'm not sure what my thing will be, but I'll keep you updated. Stop by and share yours if you like.

The Little Red Hen

In the real world, the Little Red Hen does not eat the bread.

In the real world, the Little Red Hen ends up roasted and served on the table for supper.

There are times in life when one has to stop and realize they have become the Little Red Hen. Unlike the Little Red Hen, one cannot make a snap decision at the end of the story and say, "I have made my decision. I am putting my foot down. No bread for you." Once this point has been reached in the real world, the time required to lower a foot is exponentially higher than the amount of time it took to raise it.

My point: Don't be the Little Red Hen. But don't be the Duck either.

One of the best things about writing stories is never having to be the Little Red Hen.

I suppose there may be some authors out there who have wearied of writing for the masses and only write for themselves. They may consider themselves The Little Red Hens of the writing world. The late JD Salinger comes to mind. Anyway, this title assignment comes nowhere near something that could be applied to myself in this context, so I am going to go ahead and stick with my previous statement.

One of the best things about writing stories is never having to be the Little Red Hen.

If the Duck and the Marmot want bread, they know they will need to plant their own wheat. As for the Hen, she knows from the start the bread tastes better if you grow your own wheat, water your own wheat, chop your own wheat, grind your own wheat... random farming and cooking references related to wheat.... Bake your own bread.

Every now and then, you might need to stop by the neighbor's house to borrow a scythe or some other device to remove the occasional noxious weed that creeps into the mix, but that doesn't mean your neighbor is baking the bread for you. It might mean lending them your tiller if they need it.

And the whole way through the process, the best part is smelling your bread cooking. Even when the wheat it is still in the ground, you catch an occasional whiff in the air and it smells warm and buttery.

However, at times it can be difficult to keep this in mind. Especially when being measured for the roasting pan.